You’ll shoot your eyes out
Free guns and a bag full of candy Guns don’t kill people. Bullets moving very, very quickly through people’s bodies kill people, and with that in mind Canada should not be afraid to welcome America’s NRA to Ottawa.
The 2nd Amendment of the American Bill of Rights reads: “A well regulated Militia, being necessary to a free State, the right of the People to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed.” A careless extra comma or two thrown in by the recording scribe when the Bill was voted in subtly changed the meaning, but it all worked out in the end.
President Reagan’s Solicitor General, Charles Fried, proclaimed the 2n “guarantees no right to keep and bear firearms that does not have some reasonable relationship to a well-regulated militia.”
Pres. Bush Sr.’s Solicitor General Kenneth Starr added, “Possession of a firearm does not fall within the rights guaranteed by the 2nd Amendment.”
Fortunately W’s dude, John Ashcroft, solved two centuries of debate when he asserted formally in 2001 that folks can have guns, after he read closely a 1982 study report written by gun lobby advocates Stephen Halbrook and David Hardy, that said firearms was okay.
Hallelujah, guns really don’t kill, bad men with guns kill. We just need to kill all the bad men.
Everybody knows skytrain jumpers are bad; therefore, of course the transit cops should be armed. All security guards and parking attendants should be provided lethal weapons. It’s not like they’re not given a couple days solid training, you know. Checkout cashiers at supermarkets, and parking valets, too. They all wear uniforms. It’s only fair.
Who else is in Vancouver are looking after our best interests and should therefore be handed shooters? Why, the various BIA special agents prowling our beautiful streets protecting us from loiterers, naturally. Can’t you see it? Can’t you feel the excitement as the four respectable businessmen’s associations’ muscle gather at the cardinal corners of Robson and Granville?
The flash of wandering eyes, the glint of steel braces on teeth, the shine of pimples on weather-beaten skin.
The Robson Diplomats in orange, orange like rust on a neglected switchblade, sporting Magnum .357’s.
The Downtown Ambassadors in blood red rayon, goose-stepping
in sync and scratching itchy facial scars with the tip of their pistols.
The Gastown Rangers, or whatever they call themselves, gussied up blacker than the eye sockets of skulls. Black sixty gallon Stetsons bobbing to their bowlegged swagger, tin stars glinting, chewing tobaccy glistening darkly on their sneering lips, fingering their pearl-handled Colt .45’s.
They’ll divide this town up amongst themselves like a badly given set of directions.
24 Hours, Metro and Dose in a Mexican stand off. Squeegee kids versus panhandlers versus canners and binners (always united) and all of them versus the “Do you have a quarter, spare chaaaange … twenty-five centsssss?” lady with an Uzi.
Convenience store clerks need weapons so they don’t have to deal with irate customers and people who like to pay with pennies. And there are always the bus drivers, especially the ones who get stuck driving the 20 Victoria any time of day. We should arm that guy on Robson who stands outside the Greek restaurant in his national pajamas chatting up the girls on the merits of souvlaki. Give him a bouzouki and a bazooka and see which one is better for corralling tourists into his ouzeria.
Then we should arm the children, because there are monsters under the bed. And because nobody can force brussel sprouts on you when you’re packing.
Then we should give guns to the dogs and cats and hamsters and goldfish and other housepets, because they can’t speak for themselves.
Then we’ll arm the birds and the bees and the flowers and the trees because that thing called Love can be a bitch. We should give guns to the wind, with silencers, so when the clouds shoot the breeze it’s merely a whisper. We should give Mother Nature a Peacemaker, ‘cause she sure ain’t getting her point across with those hurricanes.
We don’t need to give God a gun. According to the NRA, He’s a long-time member in good standing.