PROCRASTINATORS UNITE - Post a comment

*sounds of rifles cocking.*

You know the rest.

Okay, so now that the feline's outta the burlap, I suppose I'd better explain that. And if you don't know what I mean by 'feline out of burlap,' you probably need help dressing yourself. But I know that the people who read this tend to be intelligent enough to figure that out, so away we go, then.

One of the things that's very important to me, is firearms. Call me a trailer-park incestuous redneck if you must, but if you're gonna, know this: I live in the suburbs (shudder), I don't have a sister, my cousins are too far away, and I don't go outside often enough to qualify as a 'redneck.' Also, I don't have a pickup truck (nor do I particularly want one), let alone one that's falling apart, or that flies a Confederate Flag as large as the vehicle itself. And if you continue to think I'm a hillbilly or whatever, then please get hurled out of an airplane, and land anus-first on a cathedral spire. Moving on. The reason guns are so important to me, is because they're a great time-waster, and dead fascinating, besides. It's almost an art form; getting a small metal slug to fly x distance, and hit a spot a y inches across. And it gets more and more challenging as X increases. Though, from the firing line, Y always appears to be the same size, if you use standard bull targets at the right range.

On top of that, I also play vidjagames. By the logic of some who shall remain pants-on-head retarded, I should be a gibbering psychopath trying to kill everyone and their dog. And while I do gibber at times, it's mostly because my tongue has decided to rebel against the rest of my head (an insurrection that is quickly put down). As far as the psychopath junk goes: I'm about the most peaceable person you're like to meet. I like to think I'm easy to get along with. However, if you insult me for any reason, that will tend to disappear in a big damn hurry, replaced by you being on my bad side, and it's not easy to get off that.

But I digress again. Sorta.

Summarizing: If you want to disarm me of my legally-owned and operated firearms? Μολών Λαβέ. For those of you who DON'T read ancient Greek: Come and get them. I am not fond of anything other than what is ACTUALLY common sense gun control: Bar felons and such from owning them, those with mental instability, etc. And if you don't want one? Okay. So don't have one. If you think I shouldn't have one? Well, to paraphrase Everyone's Favorite Misanthropic Diagnostician: "I never met a... study I couldn't refute."