(1918 Bolshevik Poster by Alexander Apsit reads "Citizens, hand over your weapons!") Posted on 01/12/2013 2:06:42 PM PST by DogByte6RER
(1918 Bolshevik Poster by Alexander Apsit reads "Citizens, hand over your weapons!")
Why I gave up my guns
• A former firearm enthusiast explains his personal epiphany
Late one night in the spring of 2008, I was jolted awake by the sound of yet another a burglar trying to break into my Atlanta home. We’d already had a series of scary close calls, but this time I was ready: I had staged my shotgun and a box of shells in a broom closet right by the back door, next to the umbrellas.
While my girlfriend called the police, I ran into the kitchen and looked out the window just in time to see a human form rush to hide in the shadows behind my car. I grabbed the gun and fumbled for the ammunition in the half-light, spilling most on the ground, but finally found one cartridge I was able to slide into the chamber.
I worked the action furiously, once, twice, and again, realizing dimly as I did that in doing so I was actually ejecting the shells, unspent, and basically unloading the weapon. But the unmistakable sound of the pump carried to the backyard, and, in a flash, the prowler was gone — a blur of raggedy jeans and tattered flannel sliding across the hood of my car and vaulting over the picket fence into the night.
I couldn’t make out his face or tell if he was armed. The next moment I was in the bathroom, vomiting hot puke all over the floor and toilet, water from the bowl splashing my face and eyes. Later, my girlfriend told me I had made her feel safe, protected. I just felt ill.
I’m a New Yorker born-and-bred, and unlike the just under half of all Americans who keep guns in their homes, I didn’t grow up with firearms. But when I moved first out West, and then to the South, I got into guns big-time. I’ve owned a dozen guns over the years, including a Bushmaster AR-15, and have fired scores more. I’ve put in countless hours at the range, in the woods, and at gun shows.
I’ve made good friends on the range, love shooting skeet, and appreciate how integrally guns figure into the rural professions and outdoor pastimes of many Americans. I understand, also, why so many Americans don’t just like their guns but love them. From the robust kick of firing a revolver to the emphatic, mechanical bursts of shouldering an assault rifle on full auto, I have come to know the rhythm of guns, have felt the addictive thrill of their multi-sensory intensity.
But on that night in 2008, I learned something else. I learned how guns relate to fear, and not just the fear my gun inspired in the would-be-burglar. Owning guns had given me a sense of security, but all that was a fantasy that imploded in a few terrifying seconds.
Sure, I had frightened away an intruder, defended my castle. But I could have just as easily been killed by him or accidentally shot myself or my partner. Hundreds of hours of range time didn’t mean anything in the confusion of the moment.
The ease with which I had bought my guns, fired them recreationally, and even stoically contemplated the possibility of defending me and mine with lethal force suddenly seemed foolish.
In fact, it was almost as if my very closeness to guns had blinded me to the real possibility that they might lead me to actually killing another human being.
Whether we like it or not, in today’s America, we are all close to guns. In a nation with nearly 300 million privately owned firearms, it would be hard not be. But just because we are saturated with weapons does not make our relationship with them mature or reality-based.
Instead, just the opposite is the case: The American vision of gun ownership is dominated by fantasy, and the public discourse around guns is frequently hijacked by a kind of fantasy logic.
Only in fantasy does keeping a gun in the home make you safer; the statistical reality is just the opposite. Only in fantasy is the possibility of even minimal gun regulation a threat “to take away all the guns.” And only in fantasy can arming teachers and abolishing gun-free zones be seen as a reasonable response to gun violence — for only in fantasy does throwing more of a problem at a problem equal a solution.
After Newtown, the predictable chorus of “if-only-I-had-been-there-with-my-gun” included an Oregon state representative, Dennis Richardson, who wrote to some of his constituents that, “If I had been a teacher or the principal at the Sandy Hook Elementary School and if the school district did not preclude me from having access to a firearm . . . most of the murdered children would still be alive, and the gunman would still be dead, and not by suicide.”
Perhaps. Or perhaps the good representative would have been shot dead without having a chance to draw his weapon. Or perhaps he would have been gunned down by confused first responders. Or perhaps Richardson would have taken the best aim he could while under stress, missed, and killed a child or two himself.
If trained NYPD cops can only manage to take down a single gunman by wounding nine bystanders in the process, as recently happened outside the Empire State Building, it seems unlikely to expect much better from the 63-year-old Richardson.
All of these scenarios are equally hypothetical, but that Richardson should offer macho posturing in lieu of constructive reflection speaks as much to what Gov. Cuomo has rightly termed a national “madness” as it does to that madness’ allure. If only the minimal difference between the life and death of 20 children, the only bulwark needed against tragedy, was some decrepit politician playing Dirty Harry.
I had thought I’d be ready to play that role, too. I had my shotgun at the ready that spring night because there had been three break-in attempts on our house in as many months, the last in the early afternoon while my girlfriend was home. I don’t think they realized she was there — the car wasn’t in the driveway — and when they tried to kick down the door, already damaged by someone with a crowbar a couple weeks prior, she called the cops, then me.
I got there before they did and found her hiding in the bathtub, the front door in splinters around the hinges and a couple of shotgun shells lying on the porch. Presumably, whoever tried to break in had dropped the ammo while attempting to get inside.
I called my landlords to give notice and took my gun out of its case, removed the trigger lock and put it in that closet. The feeling of safety this gesture gave me was quite real.
The desire to feel secure is understandable, but our fantasies are killing us. America averages 34 gun homicides a day.
For an organization that blames America’s gun crisis on violent movies, the NRA in particular seems deeply committed to cultivating the notion that we can all be the stars of our own personal action flicks.
I got my opportunity to play hero. Not in fantasy, but in real life, the chance to flex my finger with three pounds of pressure and shoot another human being dead in my driveway because he wanted to steal my TV. Right after we moved, I sold all my guns. I never wanted to put myself in that position again.
Enough is enough. In 2008, Japan, which maintains strict gun regulations, saw 11 gun homicides; in that same year, America had over 12,000. This is the world in which we live, which we have made for ourselves, and which understandably inspires fear.
The choice before us now is either to double down on that fear and make the situation worse by arming ourselves further, or to break the chains of fantasy altogether. Blithely wielding the power to kill does not make you heroic, and it will not make you safe. We are not free if we choose to continue living in fantasy, and we are not brave if we choose to continue living in fear.
Blanchfield is a Ph.D. candidate and Woodruff Scholar in comparative literature at Emory University in Atlanta.
Lot's of possibilities on that "paid volunteer" track! Almost as good as being a bag boy at the grocery store. Probably smart enough to know the bread doesn't go under the watermelon in the bag.
Or, he could be an anti-gun writer! He's got the vast experience.
LOL, what a pile of steaming baloney.
Hmmm, I wonder what happens when you pull that pin from her belly button?
comparative literature
what kind of job does that qualify one for?
Well, one can correctly decline “Dost thou desire to supersize thy Happy Meal?”
what kind of job does that qualify one for?
Formulating AstroTurf memes out of whole cloth for the left's agenda.
yet I don’t hear idiots like this demanding private ownership of automobiles be banned.
At one point, they had been demanding the end of private ownership of Automobiles in favor of public transportation. The backlash shut them up.
“Blanchfield is a Ph.D. candidate and Woodruff Scholar in comparative literature at Emory University in Atlanta.”
For those in the know, this is a red flag that alerts us that we are dealing with a total and complete idiot.... and probably a liar.
I don’t believe his story about range time until I hear it confirmed from a second source. I’m not kidding. This is exactly the kind of fiction that is written by our Leftist friends from Emory.
Emory is a joke. Didn’t used to be. Is now.
To our everlasting shame, we also can claim membership in the club of mass murders. The magnitude of the numbers paints us as petty criminals compared to the real monsters, however it matters not to those who were slaughtered at Wounded Knee 122 years ago, under "Old Glory".
The Wounded Knee Massacre occurred on December 29, 1890, near Wounded Knee Creek on the Lakota Pine Ridge Indian Reservation in South Dakota, USA. It was the last battle of the American Indian Wars. On the day before, a detachment of the U.S. 7th Cavalry Regiment commanded by Major Samuel M. Whitside intercepted Spotted Elk's band of Miniconjou Lakota and 38 Hunkpapa Lakota near Porcupine Butte and escorted them five miles westward to Wounded Knee Creek where they made camp.
The remainder of the 7th Cavalry Regiment arrived led by Colonel James Forsyth and surrounded the encampment supported by four Hotchkiss guns.
On the morning of December 29, the troops went into the camp to disarm the Lakota. One version of events claims that during the process of disarming the Lakota, a deaf tribesman named Black Coyote was reluctant to give up his rifle, claiming he had paid a lot for it. A scuffle over Black Coyote's rifle escalated and a shot was fired which resulted in the 7th Cavalry's opening fire indiscriminately from all sides, killing men, women, and children, as well as some of their own fellow troopers. Those few Lakota warriors who still had weapons began shooting back at the attacking troopers, who quickly suppressed the Lakota fire. The surviving Lakota fled, but U.S. cavalrymen pursued and killed many who were unarmed.
By the time it was over, at least 150 men, women, and children of the Lakota Sioux had been killed and 4 men, 47 women and children wounded, some of whom died later. Some estimates placed the number of dead at 300. Twenty-five troopers also died, and 39 were wounded. It is believed that many were the victims of friendly fire, as the shooting took place at close range in chaotic conditions. At least twenty troopers were awarded the coveted Medal of Honor.
Regards,
GtG
It reads like a book. The entire article is a giant load of BS.
To our everlasting shame, we also can claim membership in the club of mass murders. The magnitude of the numbers paints us as petty criminals compared to the real monsters, however it matters not to those who were slaughtered at Wounded Knee 122 years ago, under "Old Glory".
The Wounded Knee Massacre occurred on December 29, 1890, near Wounded Knee Creek on the Lakota Pine Ridge Indian Reservation in South Dakota, USA. It was the last battle of the American Indian Wars. On the day before, a detachment of the U.S. 7th Cavalry Regiment commanded by Major Samuel M. Whitside intercepted Spotted Elk's band of Miniconjou Lakota and 38 Hunkpapa Lakota near Porcupine Butte and escorted them five miles westward to Wounded Knee Creek where they made camp.
The remainder of the 7th Cavalry Regiment arrived led by Colonel James Forsyth and surrounded the encampment supported by four Hotchkiss guns.
On the morning of December 29, the troops went into the camp to disarm the Lakota. One version of events claims that during the process of disarming the Lakota, a deaf tribesman named Black Coyote was reluctant to give up his rifle, claiming he had paid a lot for it. A scuffle over Black Coyote's rifle escalated and a shot was fired which resulted in the 7th Cavalry's opening fire indiscriminately from all sides, killing men, women, and children, as well as some of their own fellow troopers. Those few Lakota warriors who still had weapons began shooting back at the attacking troopers, who quickly suppressed the Lakota fire. The surviving Lakota fled, but U.S. cavalrymen pursued and killed many who were unarmed.
By the time it was over, at least 150 men, women, and children of the Lakota Sioux had been killed and 4 men, 47 women and children wounded, some of whom died later. Some estimates placed the number of dead at 300. Twenty-five troopers also died, and 39 were wounded. It is believed that many were the victims of friendly fire, as the shooting took place at close range in chaotic conditions. At least twenty troopers were awarded the coveted Medal of Honor.
Regards,
GtG
.....cognatively conflicts with this.....
I worked the action furiously, once, twice, and again, realizing dimly as I did that in doing so I was actually ejecting the shells, unspent,
I must confide in all of you one little secret: in my entire lifetime of experience with firearms, NOT ONCE has one cartridge turned into something that allowed me to cycle the action three times, ejecting shell*S* (plural).
I mean, yeah, okay, Jesus did it with fishes and loaves, but that was a long time ago, and Jesus was the Son of God.
So there's that.
I am not afraid of the limo liberals. Not now...not ever.
They can kiss my Christian fanny. They can take all my stuff. They can kill my body. I will be who I am no matter what they think they are doing as the all powerful dark stinkers of the universe. : )
“...copied the new [Bolshevik poster] & made a hard copy”
You & me both, Cid Campeador. Heh, heh, your version looks like the Bolshie is grinning. “Trust me, comrades, turn these in and all will be well!”
Real quote: Gen. Eisenhower was trying to befriend Marshal Zhukov after V-E Day with predictions of American style freedoms in Europe including the right to bear arms. But then, Zhukov drew him up short: “We say to the masses, `No, comrade, you can’t have those things. You must give them to the state!’”
Now, the Russians of all people are warning us Americans not to give up our gun rights.
Blanchfield is a Ph.D. candidate and Woodruff Scholar in comparative literature at Emory University in Atlanta.
Probably didn’t mention that his partner was probably a guy. Blanchfield is not a PHD, but only a candidate and not a candidate in any meaningful field. I would suggest that next time that he cower under the covers and either he or his “partner” hold his weenie until the burglar blows him and his “partner” away.
So he tried to load and alreadyt loaded gun, worked the chamber several times UNloading it, and he wants us to believe he spent HOURS training????
The boogeyman ran away at the sound of the gun being racked- I would say MISSION ACCOMPLISHED at that point...
But I hope that criminal doesnt read this and realize that now he doesn’t have a gun, and come back
You're welcome. Here's a second lifeline!
So his comment about guns he has owned "over the years" is highly unlikely to include the time he was in Cambridge, since getting a Mass. class A or class B firearms ID as a college student in Cambridge is nearly impossible. Obviously until he was 21 he couldn't have legally owned a pistol, and even long arms and ammunition require at least a firearms ID card in Mass.
I doubt he bought and presumably sold or "lost" all of the weapons he described in the last seven years, particularly given his obvious lack of basic firearm handling knowledge. I've never seen anybody, even a novice, rack a shotgun while they were loading it. Normally one's fingers object to that. Nor do even novices rack out the ammo they have just loaded.
He also worked for CyberEdit, which provides "editing" services for resume and essay writing - in other words you hire them to "edit", or maybe ghostwrite your essay to get into medical school or college. Some people consider that line of business somewhat dubious from an ethical point of view. People who write or "edit" essays and resumes for other people are usually pretty good at writing fiction.
Suggestions? Sure, send him a polite email and ask him your questions. While you are at it you may want to ask him about his work for George Soros, and if he has any comments about the sudden rash of shootings by people who are seeing psychiatrists, since he is "Completing four year, 460-hour course of training in psychoanalytic theory and clinical practice" according to his resume.
Police reports.
He claims this occurred in 2008. Did he ever call 911 during any of the multiple break-ins?
Did Atlanta PD take any reports?
Can any of the Atlanta crime records be accessed as public info?
Maybe a FOIA request.
Ewe
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