That would be a shame. When I lived in Hawaii in 1971 we’d often go down to the beach with our .50s and shoot-down airplanes taking-off from Hickam and Barbers Point. I bagged two P-3s and a C-141 on one fine Sunday afternoon. When I got tired of my .50 I sold it on the Internet to a swell 12-year-old in New York City. I heard from him that he had a lot of fun with it robbing armored trucks and shooting at satellites in low Earth orbit. I understand that he subsequently became president of the NRA and that he passed it along to his brother for help with his brother’s management of his bipolar psychotic disorder.
LOL! Excellent!
Good satire! :-))