Confiscate

Confiscate: (v) to take or seize someone’s property with authority.

Nasty criminals in the wicked pursuit of evil have made it their business to confiscate our country.

The ransom note has been received. We are being held hostage.

The request is simple–a demand that you and I submit to the New Order and surrender any notions of brotherhood, common good and doing what we should.

They threaten to tear apart our property, our lives and our dreams.

They are convinced that years of toleration, understanding, adjustment and patience have brought us to a place where we have lost our domination and have just funny wisdom on words that begin with a Cbecome part of Earth’s typography.

They are angry.

They are certain of their cause.

They are committed to restoring a former time, which, in its era, was proven to be ineffective and even deadly.

They have a knife to our throat, alternating with a gun to our head, interchanging all of that with a mocking laugh of anything suggesting mutuality or agreement.

We are temporarily stalled by a kidnapping of kindness and a promotion of crudeness.

Should we pay the ransom?

And if the ransom is paid, will we get our country back? Or just what’s left of it?

Perhaps we should take a moment and realize that even though these forces did confiscate our lives, we certainly were more than willing to give up–because of our bigotry and anger.

Can we rescue ourselves from ourselves?

It’s a damn good question.

Fortunately–or perhaps unfortunately–we will all be around to hear the answer.

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Clay Pigeon

Clay pigeon: (n) a saucer-shaped piece of baked clay thrown up in the air as a target for shooting.

I have shot a gun. It was delightful. I liked it.

Yet I am completely against killing people. Those two sensations do not have to be at odds.

But saying that “guns don’t kill people” is one of the more ridiculous statements ever made.

Guns will continue to be the main way that people kill each other if they happen to be in the same location when people are angry at one another. Strangling someone to death is not even a close second.

What we should be discussing is how much fun guns are–and also opening up more places where people can go out and safely fire a gun until they get sick of hearing it, shooting it and breaking apart clay pigeons, which, by the way, they will probably miss most of the time. (Perhaps the reason we don’t do this is that so many clay pigeons land safely, and somebody has to go out and pick them up.)

Since guns aren’t going anywhere, we should find ways to enjoy them before the lack of having fun accidentally turns us all into killers. And don’t get pious and say, ‘I would never shoot anyone…”

Each one of us gets angry enough to pull a trigger if our finger happened to be near one. But if we had just finished shooting 125 clay pigeons, we might have put the gun away in the closet, weary of the exercise–and the kickback.

 

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Birth Control

Birth Control: (n) various methods for counteracting pregnancy

This amazing idea came to my mind, which probably, upon future inspection, will not seem quite as gleaming. But while it is still glistening in my gray matter, I shall write about it.Dictionary B

Let us be blunt: a man has a penis and a woman has a vagina.

Nature created these physical parts for the purpose of allowing our species to make smaller versions of ourselves, who eventually grow up, forget our telephone numbers and no longer contact us.

Simultaneously, gun manufacturers make weapons which often–even by design–resemble the human penis.

Now, we do have sense enough to find a way to take the procreative weapon of the penis and make it less dangerous to the vagina by generating all sorts of prophylactics to prevent pregnancy.

Only a few cults and religions object to such an intrusion–the Catholic Church, for instance.

So the Catholic Church is kind of the NRA of human reproduction. They believe that every penis should have the right to shoot wherever it wants, without interference.

But other religions, cultures and philosophies allow for the penis-gun to be more limited in its effectiveness. In other words, they allow various approaches to preventing pregnancy.

Without this, we would have indiscriminate births based on the cycle of the female of our species. Then we would begin to do strange things, like pushing euthanasia, turning our heads away from genocide or even trying to engineer processes by which we can control the type of child being born.

No–birth control is a good thing.

It keeps us from hurting ourselves, while still giving us the freedom to enjoy the right to pleasure our parts.

Hmmmm–now if we can just find a way to put a rubber on a gun …

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Armed

dictionary with letter A

Armed: 1. (adj) equipped with or carrying a weapon or weapons.

I shot a gun seven times in my life.

Now, there’s an odd sentence.

What do I remember about the experience? I recall it as being fun.

I pointed a gun at a tin can and shot five times before I finally hit the thing. There was a real sense of satisfaction upon knocking over the former bean container.

I wanted to do it again.

If I really believed that being armed was a choice of recreation, I could completely comprehend the desire.

What I have trouble with is when people tell me they want to be armed so they can prepare to be dangerous.

After many years of dealing with human beings, I can tell you–we were never meant to be dangerous. Matter of fact, there is a real danger in us being dangerous, Why?

1. We are impetuous.

We do many things and are sorry later. It’s just hard to apologize for shooting someone.

2. We feel powerful about the wrong things.

The best gift we have is our ability to negotiate life and get along with others. Feeling the power of being armed sometimes makes us unwilling to be pliable.

3. We need good thoughts.

As long as we feel protected by a weapon, we will not use our better angels to fly in and solve our problems. And if we do, it may be in the back of our minds that we are still armed.

I know the classic saying is, “Guns don’t kill people; people kill people.”

I can’t argue with that.

But long before we actually kill one another, we can develop an attitude of intolerance because we feel endorsed by our weaponry.

  • It makes us nasty when we could be gentle.
  • It makes us pushy when we might achieve compromise.
  • And it makes us confident in implements of anger instead of instruments of peace.

 

 

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American Dream

dictionary with letter A

American dream: (n) the traditional social ideals of the U.S., such as equality, democracy and material prosperity.

I think the American dream has been over-analyzed by Freudian pundits and politicians who plan on using their own interpretation to bring about the enactment of their particular will.

I’m not so sure I agree with the Republicans that every American wants a gun.

Likewise, the more liberal view of the Democrats concerning giving people license to do whatever they want to under the guise of civil rights doesn’t achieve much more than an emotional traffic jam.

I’ll tell you what I think the American dream is: Hunk, Chunk, Junk.

I think the power of freedom in this country, with the intelligent use of capitalism, enables me to go out and get my hunk. I should have every right to do that. If it doesn’t infringe on the needs of others or hurt my fellow-man and woman, I should be applauded for my efforts and be given a barn to store my bounty.

Then from that hunk, I should get my chunk. This is probably where people will disagree with me. Lots of folks think they need every single dime they earn to cover their own personal indebtedness. If that’s the case, you’ll spend your life pretty miserable. I should be able to break off a chunk from my hunk that will make me happy and keep me in grits, gravy, gravel and glee.

What remains from my hunk actually becomes my junk. Things I don’t need. Things I don’t want anymore. It’s a startling but true statement that if everybody in America emptied their attics and garages of all the things they haven’t used in the past six months, and gave them to their neighbors, 75% of the personal needs of others would be fulfilled.

It’s not treasure if moths and rust are corrupting it and it’s being stolen by time and depreciation.

Get rid of your junk.

Bless someone else. They won’t think it’s junk.

They will treasure it as their hunktheir American dream.

 

 

Ambulance

dictionary with letter A

Ambulance: (n) a vehicle equipped for taking sick or injured people to and from the hospital, especially in emergencies

I’ve only been in an ambulance once.

I’ve seen them on TV. I’ve watched shows about those who drive them and care for the injured.

But many years ago, when my son was hit by a car and they placed his dramatically injured body into the back of that howling van, the reality of its purpose, function and destiny became quite clear to me.

I didn’t know what to do.

When I get confused, frustrated or totally wacked out of my mind, I always talk too much. I probably should have sat there, silent and stunned. But somehow, as I perched by the side of my child and the attendant was working on him, trying to revive him, putting tubes into his body, I felt as if I needed to speak.

Maybe it was similar to letting the pressure off of a steam engine to keep it from blowing up. I don’t remember all of what I said–I’m sure some of it was stupid, because the technician occasionally looked up, surprised at my perception or question.,

I looked down at my son’s compound fracture in his left leg and I asked the gentleman if it would be difficult to fix it.

Without missing a beat, between checking pulse and heart rate, he replied, “They’re good with bones. What you need to pray about is the head injury.”

I felt like someone shot me with a gun.

Even though I’ve never had that experience, it is the closest way I can think of to describe how those words pierced.

I was quiet the rest of the way.

Ambulances are like so many other things in life: they should be avoided at all costs.

But mercy should be given to those who find themselves within. 

AK-47

Words from Dic(tionary)

dictionary with letter A

AK-47: (n) a type of assault rifle, originally manufactured in the Soviet Union.

It’s a big gun. That’s what I know.

I’ve never fired one of those. I have used a shotgun. That was pretty impressive.

Impressive… What do I mean by that?

I think guns are fascinating. Otherwise we wouldn’t want to play with them as children. After all, nobody wants a squirt-monkey or a squirt-hose. No, it’s a squirt-gun.

Being able to point something at somebody and dispel ammunition–even if it’s just water–is pretty thrilling. But you see, that’s the problem.

Somewhere along the line–at about the age of eleven or twelve–the bullets change from H2O to a helluva lot more deadly.

When would I want a gun?

  • If I were in the wilderness and a bear was getting ready to attack me, I think I would rather have a gun than a bow and arrow.
  • I guess if I was trapped on a desert island and was trying to track down game, using a bullet might be more effective than setting traps or throwing rocks.
  • I think if we’re going to insist on having wars, we should give our soldiers weapons to match the enemy’s, or be prepared to be enslaved by being “out-gunned.”

But I just don’t believe that guns are the answer to everything. It’s like so many other things in our society–the solutions we come up with seem to create their own dilemmas instead of alleviating conflict.

Putting a gun into the hands of a common man who, at this moment, is rational, does not mean that this person will be logical under the influence of alcohol, anger, frustration, or just dumb stupidity.

I guess what bothers me is the idea that law-abiding citizens require guns to protect themselves from non-law-abiding citizens. It begs the questions:

  1. When should I pull a trigger and release a missile of death to terminate the life of another human being?
  2. Should I do it because they have entered my home to steal from me?
  3. Should I shoot them because they are walking on my sidewalk, speaking threats in the direction of my domicile?
  4. In my frivolous and often unpredictable nature, should I be trusted to decide who lives or dies simply because I have a weapon to determine the outcome?
  5. Or are all these questions moot–because we have a Constitution that allows us to be “gun-toting,” so that’s all the justification we need?

There’s no doubt–guns are cool. I would be greatly fascinated to look at someone’s gun collection. I just wonder how we can determine how these weapons are used, or … how we can trust one another to make that decision.