By: David Steiner
It’s been said many times over, by many varied groups. Harley-Davidson riders put it best; “If I have to explain it, you probably wouldn’t understand.” People have preconceived notions about everything, especially, it seems, about guns.
Well, boys and girls, you can rest assured that your old, Uncle Izzy is not The Hebrew Hammer’s altar ego. I’m not Clint Eastwitz, nor am I Charles Bronstein, Sylvester Ben-Stone or Arnold Katzenjammer. But if you’ve been keeping up on this blog, you know that I have made the profound and personal choice to obtain and make use of a concealed firearms license. I will not delve into the rationale behind my decision, as there would be no point. Of those who agree with my choice, most have done the same, and for much the same reasons. Of those who do not understand, most will never allow themselves to even hear arguments that contradict their brainwashing. This post is for the minority of the latter.
Upon sharing my choice with certain friends and family members, I was faced with a most interesting combination of reactions. It would seem that along with a programmed fear and induced ignorance of firearms, firearms safety and all related culture pertaining to both self-defense and sport shooting, comes a grocery list of gun owner stereotypes. It is my hope that after reading this post, there will be just a few less people out there who are genuinely concerned that I am going to either get myself killed by riding around playing Mister Superhero, or wind up in jail from stopping my car for a tailgater, getting out and brandishing a weapon to show my dominance over the situation.
First off, I am not a crook. I have nothing to hide, I want nothing to hide. Therefore, everything I do in this department, I do by the book and with a high degree of common sense. I took my four-hour class, had myself fingerprinted and got the license. The only two handguns I own, I bought brand new, and both from licensed gun shops. I have and read books on self-defense and the law. I watch self-defense videos, and am planning on taking tactical classes. Lastly, I practice often and I keep my guns cleaned and oiled at all times.
It is because I have and want nothing to hide that I don’t have a problem with registering myself and my guns with government agencies. If I actually fire a handgun at another person, IT WILL BE JUSTIFIABLE, LEGAL AND CLEAN. The idea is for me to be able to LAWFULLY defend and protect myself and those around me, period.
On that note, and to the aforementioned end, I have adopted a gun-carrying philosophy rooted deeply in my geekdom. Although the metaphor requires creative license, since my weapon of choice resembles a blaster, rather than a light saber, I think of myself as a Padowan learner. I am not yet ready for the title of Jedi Master, but I must obey the code. My weapon is never to be drawn out of anger, and never on the offensive or for personal gain. It is an implement of self defense, and the protection of others. No, that does not mean that in the real world I have card-blanche to engage in acts of vigilantism. But under the right circumstances, I can end or prevent a violent attack or robbery, even if I am not the potential victim.
Contrary to popular belief, buying a gun does not turn you into Yosemite Sam overnight. If it does, then you shouldn’t have gotten one in the first place. Giving a ‘loose cannon’ a gun is like teaching a violent bully Karate fighting techniques without any of the associated mental disciplines. It’s a fast track to disaster. But has it ever occurred to any of you that some of us about whom you worry in that capacity had previously been exhibiting such short proverbial fuses because we were living in fear? Ever notice how it’s always the little dogs or the shorter or otherwise lesser-endowed guys that go around making the most noise over nothing and starting the most fights? Ever notice how some other people just seem to be walking targets? Or how some targets have taken so much more than their fair share of crap that they are themselves beginning to act like small dogs? Well, boys and girls, Uncle Izzy fears no more. Uncle Izzy walks and stands a little taller. Uncle Izzy sits a little higher up in his seat when he’s driving. Uncle Izzy is also a hell of allot calmer and a hell of allot more selective as to whom he chooses to confront, how and why. If you can’t stay sharp, yet calm under pressure, if you are prone to panic attacks, or if you go through life ‘with something to prove,‘ then you should not even be driving a car, much less carrying a gun.
Granted, you are only reading one man’s words. But I am not alone in feeling humbled by carrying the power of death on my person, and by the knowledge that I have volunteered myself to be the object in focus under the microscope more-so than ‘the next guy.’ But there too, if you’ve reached the end of this post, you’re probably not one of the brainwashed masses who is totally incapable of understanding that it was not written by a paranoid hot-head, soap-boxing for gun rights on a platform as radically misguided as those adopted by so many of the anti-gun lemmings who would have long-ago navigated away from this webpage.
