Gerald (Jerry) Zezas

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Vacuous Sophistry and Low T replacment therapy

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I own a gun. A .38 Special. It holds 5 rounds. I also have a concealed weapons license. The reason for these is a perceived threat from 10 years or so ago, causing me to allow the basest of my instincts to overcome logic. That gun is currently stashed in a closet.

If you ever try to take my gun from me, I’ll let you. You wouldn’t have to pry it from my cold, dead hands. You won’t have to give me free movie tickets or a video game or a weekend at Disney (OK, maybe Universal).

I’m not worried about the (insert bogey-man of choice here) coming to my house for the purpose of raping, stealing, peeing in my fish-tank, or any of the other things of which I’m supposed to live in constant fear.

I’m not worried about the tyrannical government landing a black helicopter on my front lawn and coming for my weapons (although that would be a great story to tell at work the next day). The main reason for this lack of fear is the fact that there isn’t an army on the face of the earth large enough to confiscate the 300 million guns we have in this country. So maybe those who use that argument will give up on it soon.

I don’t live in the 1850s, in the Wild West, where there is no law enforcement for 100 miles; where hungry bears, wolves and coyotes are spotted regularly, waiting for the opportunity to eat me. Nor do I need to kill any of them for food. I can buy anything I want to eat at the supermarket, even if I’m unarmed. There are no desperadoes lurking in the woods, just-a-waitin’ for my women-folk to go a-pickin’ wildflowers so they can have their way with them. Besides, those longs skirts and multiple petticoats and bloomers probably slowed that kind of thing down quite a bit…but I digress.

Hunting, I’m told, is a sport, no more or less than football. OK, I’ll buy that. So please let me know the next time a bunch of people in a movie theater are attacked by vicious quarterbacks whose mothers didn’t love them, wielding Wilson “Duke” footballs in a really menacing way.

During the Cold War, the Soviets were more scared of us than we were of them. Black militants have never tried to take over the country in order to subjugate and enslave whites. Immigrants still haven’t come and stolen any of the jobs that citizens are willing to do. Muslims are not going to make your women wear hijabs and tilt toward Mecca 5 times daily.

Every one of your threats of impending bogey-men has turned out to be a vacuous piece of pre-pubescent sophistry, dumbed down to the point that you call it “common sense” in order to make it more palatable for the most common among us.

At some point, you will have to admit that you’ve been wrong. At some point, those of you who conveniently forget the inaccuracy of every “slippery-slope” and straw-man prediction you have ever made will run out of intellectual escape passages.

One day we will come to the realization that ideology does not supplant humanity.

One day the issue of guns will go the way of racism, hatred of alternate lifestyles, misogyny, lynching, cigarettes, 64 oz sodas in NYC and smacking your wife around when she gets out of line. One day the basic humanity of people will cause the issue of guns to become relegated to men’s locker rooms and go-go bars. No one with an IQ above freezing will be proud of them, and they will slowly move to the background. It will take some time, but we’ll just have to wait, because these guys just aren’t giving up their shiny metal manhood affirmers.

We’ve waited before. Some things take much longer than they should. But those who continue to defend this most basic of “Low T” replacement therapies will someday get tired of being whispered about behind their backs. Some day they’ll accidentally hear the background chuckling when they brag about their Wayne LaPierre Signature Series armor piercing bullets, how they used the food money for the new Kevlar Supreme Freedom Defender shoulder holster, or how many “rounds” they can tightly pack into their “magazines” (wink, wink).

Someday they’ll see that it isn’t everyone else on the highway who is driving in the wrong direction, or everyone else in the parade who is out of step.

Someday they’ll see that its just them.

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