Only Man In Texas Without Gun Trusts In Handy Cactus
I had a discussion with one of my friends about robberies. She insisted I get a gun to protect myself, but I calmly informed her, no need, because no burglar would want to rob me once he found out how interesting I am. She didn’t laugh, and not just because the joke wasn’t funny. Her eyes turned to pity, as if I was suddenly a raccoon who just gave birth behind the local Burger King. Look, I’m not (that) dumb. I don’t think I can change a robber’s mind by tossing him a Bud Light while we play Madden ’13 on my Xbox. But why do we all need guns? I live in a one-bedroom apartment, and I could probably effectively defend myself with a cactus sitting on my nightstand, much less spraying a rifle around my living room.
I grew up in Texas, but it was a wealthier part. If the alarm system went off, robots or drone strikes would take care of any intruders. Guns only served for hunting, and even then, only if a deer or coyote ran off with your servants. I don’t care how many guns someone else owns, but I’m not fond of them. Maybe it’s the noise. Or years of liberal propaganda. Or flashbacks of losing online Call of Duty matches to 10 year-old Asian girls. But to look on me in pity because I’m somehow endangering my family by not owning a safe full of military hardware? That’s not fair. If I get stranded on the roof as a helicopter tries to pick me off, fine, give me a shotgun or bazooka or Spider-Man or whatever. But for a nighttime home robbery? The bad guys would be far more scared of a screaming naked man attacking them with an office chair than any sort of tiny pistol. Though to be fair, all my research comes from Bourne movies.
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