Posted on 06/25/2014 7:02:43 AM PDT by rktman
The Background Check Initiative Nevadans for Background Checks PAC
(Excerpt) Read more at nvsos.gov ...
And yet they don’t want to background check Ubama.
if you can create a background check system that does not violate rights, nor pave the way for confiscation, and doesn’t cost the users, then we can talk.
I call a toll free number and ask “Can so-and-so own a gun?” and get a yes/no answer. period. that should be all it takes.
The fallacy of the entire thing is that the bad guys will still get whatever they can afford with no problem so gun law number 20,001 will do what the other 20,000 do. Nothing. Waste of tax payers (makers) dollars.
nor pave the way for confiscation
You can't.
I call a toll free number and ask “Can so-and-so own a gun?” and get a yes/no answer. period. that should be all it takes.
And the guy on the other end asks WHICH so-and-so? The camle who lives in [any city] in the state of [any state, USA] or the one who lives in . . . rinse and repeat.
There's the rub. In order to know which camle you're asking about, you have to fill out the ATF 4473, which asks a slew of invasive questions, PLUS the make, model, caliber, SERIAL NUMBER, etc.
Those 4473 forms are supposed to stay with the dealer, but when he closes shop, they go to the ATF. Then we have "audits" of those shops where agents Xerox the forms. It goes on and on and on.
That's why the antis are in such a lather to get "universal" checks implemented.
On looking in to this issue (theirs, not ours) this would (I think) not show up until the 2016 elections so they have plenty of time to get their lies out there. Not to mention lots of visits from folks like mx. mark kelley-giffords. Maybe even shannon watts will show up too. Of course shannon will be surrounded by gun totin’ security.
Is this payback for the Militia members who are still guarding the Bundy ranch?
you id the purchaser by a driver’s license or permit number. if there’s a conflict, you use DOB, just like the PD do.
and the problem is that they ask about the gun, which should be irrelevant. adn that they record the transaction.
you are, of course correct. the elites don’t want to curb criminal behavior as long as they can use it as a lever to pry more and more rights. which explains their haste to harass the innocent gun owners over the guilty criminals
To the far left, this is all about tightening the ratchet. The goal is to disarm the American people because a government monopoly on force would give FedGov a docile population to order around. We cannot in any way compromise with evil - they take the gains of appeasement and come back the next year and the next for more “compromise”. To any responsible person, it’s always time to stop fascists, and always at the dinner roll. “Shall not be infringed” is one of many red lines, lines in the sand drawn by real men, in contrast to the lines drawn in Syria and elsewhere by a petty tyrant.
http://rebirthofreason.com/Articles/Gleaves/Dinner_at_the_White_House_-_a_parable.shtml
Dinner at the White House - a parable
by Richard Gleaves
Once upon a time, I was invited to the White House for a private dinner with the President. I am a respected businessman, with a factory that produces memory chips for computers and portable electronics. There was some talk that my industry was being scrutinized by the administration, but I paid it no mind. I live in a free country. There’s nothing that the government can do to me if I’ve broken no laws. My wealth was earned honestly, and an invitation to dinner with an American President is an honor.
I checked my coat, was greeted by the Chief of Staff, and joined the President in a yellow dining room. We sat across from each other at a table draped in white linen. The Great Seal was embossed on the china. Uniformed staff served our dinner.
The meal was served, and I was startled when my waiter suddenly reached out, plucked a dinner roll off my plate, and began nibbling it as he walked back to the kitchen.
“Sorry about that,” said the President. “Andrew is very hungry.”
“I don’t appreciate...” I began, but as I looked into the calm brown eyes across from me, I felt immediately guilty and petty. It was just a dinner roll. “Of course,” I concluded, and reached for my glass. Before I could, however, another waiter reached forward, took the glass away and swallowed the wine in a single gulp.
“And his brother Eric is very thirsty.” said the President.
I didn’t say anything. The President is testing my compassion, I thought. I will play along. I don’t want to seem unkind.
My plate was whisked away before I had tasted a bite.
“Eric’s children are also quite hungry.”
With a lurch, I crashed to the floor. My chair had been pulled out from under me. I stood, brushing myself off angrily, and watched as it was carried from the room.
“And their grandmother can’t stand for long.”
I excused myself, smiling outwardly, but inside feeling like a fool. Obviously I had been invited to the White House to be sport for some game. I reached for my coat, to find that it had been taken. I turned back to the President.
“Their grandfather doesn’t like the cold.”
I wanted to shout- that was my coat! But again, I looked at the placid smiling face of my host and decided I was being a poor sport. I spread my hands helplessly and chuckled. Then I felt my hip pocket and realized my wallet was gone. I excused myself and walked to a phone on an elegant side table. I learned shortly that my credit cards had been maxed out, my bank accounts emptied, my retirement and equity portfolios had vanished, and my wife had been thrown out of our home. Apparently, the waiters and their families were moving in. The President hadn’t moved or spoken as I learned all this, but finally I lowered the phone into its cradle and turned to face him.
“Andrew’s whole family has made bad financial decisions. They haven’t planned for retirement, and they need a house. They recently defaulted on a subprime mortgage. I told them they could have your home. They need it more than you do.”
My hands were shaking. I felt faint. I stumbled back to the table and knelt on the floor. The President cheerfully cut his meat, ate his steak and drank his wine. I lowered my eyes and stared at the small grey circles on the tablecloth that were water drops.
“By the way,” He added, “I have just signed an Executive Order nationalizing your factories. I’m firing you as head of your business. I’ll be operating the firm now for the benefit of all mankind. There’s a whole bunch of Erics and Andrews out there and they can’t come to you for jobs groveling like beggars.”
I looked up. The President dropped his spoon into the empty ramekin which had been his creme brulee. He drained the last drops of his wine. As the table was cleared, he lit a cigarette and leaned back in his chair. He stared at me. I clung to the edge of the table as if were a ledge and I were a man hanging over an abyss. I thought of the years behind me, of the life I had lived. The life I had earned with a lifetime of work, risk and struggle. Why was I punished? How had I allowed it to be taken? What game had I played and lost? I looked across the table and noticed with some surprise that there was no game board between us.
What had I done wrong?
As if answering the unspoken thought, the President suddenly cocked his head, locked his empty eyes to mine, and bared a million teeth, chuckling wryly as he folded his hands.
“You should have stopped me at the dinner roll,” he said.
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