Party On, but Cease Fire
I rang in last New Year with a celebratory flare, lighting off fireworks up until it came time to pop the champagne cork, at which time I reverted to the pure spectator mode–quickly followed by the refugee mode when I heard the unmistakable rhythmic staccato of gun fire. In doors I went–in haste.
In the states every New Year and Fourth of July is accompanied by news stories of some hapless soul getting zapped by a bullet out of nowhere. Well, seemingly nowhere. Bullets don’t appear out of the ether, and they don’t disappear into it, either.
Axiom 1: What goes up most go down.
Axiom 2: Guns, like cars, are dangerous in the hands of idiots. Come to think of it, everything is dangerous in the hands of idiots. Even Q-tips. And especially fertility.
Axiom 3: The idiocy factor increases exponentially with the arrival of holidays, at least insofar as the guns and cars angle goes. I’ve seen no statistics on irresponsible use of of Q-tips and fertility within this context–but I have my suspicions.
A Navy pal of mine ran into these axioms the hard way. He and the misses took off to North Carolina for some camping and R&R for the Fourth. Some fool with a .41 magnum (yes, there is such a thing) got liquored up and was cranking out rounds at night. One such round found its way into my friends’ tent and into his wife’s leg.
It tore her a three-pound chunk of hamburger, plus bone splinters.
If that sounds strange, this is stranger, still: the authorities found the culprit and he was let off the hook scot-free. Just another misguided good ol’ boy, I guess, and boys will be boys.
That guy’s got a cousin–if not genetically, then in spirit–in Manila. Guards there have some serious armament, and I once spied some guard standing his watch with a Remington 870 shotgun; the muzzle was resting on the toe of his shoe and his finger was inside the trigger guard. Maybe that’s the most comfortable way to carry the thing, but it sure as heck ain’t the brightest.
But it does beat a technique used in Panama, where I used to do a bit of work. There, they’d point their blunderbusses at me on occasion, for seeming lack of anywhere else better to point them. Hopefully those blokes will take some R&R in North Carolina someday.
Things sure are a lot tamer on our fair shores, thank goodness. And I certainly don’t begrudge a fellow his enjoyment of his Mini-14 or whatever else suits his fancy, as long as he’s not doing something insanely reckless with it, like seeding the sky with bullets that may rain down on my head, or your head, or somebody’s head.
The year 1999 was a big enough headache as it was, and I don’t think 55 grains of copper-jacketed lead-alloy piercing my noggin is going to improve things at all.
No, not at all. Next year already has enough challenges to offer, eh? So I’ll see you then, and I look forward to another year of service as your humble scribe.
Okay…as your “not-so-humble” scribe.
That’s better.
