After last week’s events, the post I was going to put up will wait for another week or two. I was going to write about an experience going target shooting with a friend of mine, but right now I can’t stomach even seeming to sympathize — in ANY way — with the psychotic horror show the NRA has become.
The USA is the only country where these kinds of shootings happen with such horrific regularity. We’re already up to 30 mass shootings so far this year in 53 days: at that rate, we’ll have over 200 mass shootings this year. How many more people — kids, especially — need to die before we activate some kind of common sense regulations controlling the sale of firearms? A guy I went to high school with was talking on Facebook about trading spare firearms for other things over the years, like lawnmowers, and there’s the problem. In a perfect world, such transactions should be unremarkable: in the day and age in which we actually live, the thought of someone trading guns to someone else — with no paper trail, no background checks, no accountability whatsoever — fills me with dread.
I don’t have any answers. These shootings are too terrible a situation once, much less 30 times in less than two months. We MUST change how we do things, even if those changes are imperfect and need to be refined over time, NRA be damned. And they are damned — if you believe in such things — for turning their backs on the gun violence epidemic to line the pockets of the corporate masters — the gun manufacturing industry.
The only way to stop this is to replace all the money-grubbing politicians who line up to feed at the NRA trough. Vote. Not tomorrow, not next time, NOW, and in every election to come for the next decade. Read about where the candidates stand on the issues. Pay attention to who endorses them, and really think about what those things mean. We can’t make any real change until the enormous roadblock to sanity is removed from offices, at the local, state, and federal level.
If it turns out that Wayne LaPierre and his cronies are, in fact, damned, they can count on my thoughts and prayers to comfort them while they roast in their own juices.