When I was young, there were some fairly exotic cap pistols for kids. You could pull the casing off the simulated bullet, place a new round cap on the end, replace the casing, then place six of them back in the cap gun.
Here’s why it plays in here.
You had a kid who pulled out his six (cap) gun, fired off all six bullets (caps), and of course nothing happened. In your mind you had just conquered the bad guys. Everything was right on what passed for your own imaginary ranch.
If you were lucky enough to have a matching set, it was twelve caps.
What you have here is Obama having entered the White House with his matching loaded six (cap) guns. He’s fired them all off. He’s noticed nothing happened. Now he’s still pulling the triggers thinking that if he does it long enough, he’ll get better results.
Sorry Mr. President. When you’re out of caps, you’re out of caps.
Sure you’ve got the little cowboy hat.
You’ve got the cowboy shirt, and the scarf hanging down from the side of the neck.
You’ve got the cute little cowboy belt and buckle.
You’ve got the proper cowboy pants.
You’ve even got the simulated chaps.
You’ve also got the proper cowboy boots.
Somebody even chipped in and got you some simulated spurs.
You’ve also got the twin six-gun holster set, with matching six-guns.
You look like quite the dude.
Sadly, you’re a late 40s or early 50s dud.
Get over it.
We have, and we’re moving on...
I love the analogy, the reminiscence, and the characterization of our little Dude cowboy.
I too was an acolyte of Hopalong Cassidy , Roy Rogers, and the others in that period.
I even had the Hoppy wristwatch, which I somehow lost on my town’s railroad tracks.