Glock

A well regulated Militia,
being necessary to the security of a free State,
the right of the people to keep and bear Arms,
shall not be infringed.

I am NOT the NRA.

I am, however, an American who has read his Constitution. Say what you will about the risks, the pleasures, the dangers, the costs, the benefits, the mortality and the morality; we have the inalienable right to bear arms.

My regular readers and constant commenters are sure to state statistics, and you are certainly welcome to do so, but the fact remains, I love my gun. It is shiny and clean, well-oiled and meticulously-maintained. It is six inches of stainless steel that will raise tufts of dust from the ground when its heaviest loads are discharged.

Contrary to the obligatory title, my weapon was actually crafted, with a fine tradition of workmanship, by Mr. Smith and Mr. Wesson. With the Monkey in mind, it is safely stored. Yet, it is also readily accessible to thwart any nerdowell at my stoop, bearing malicious intent.

Alas, the only casualty to have fallen before my muzzle sight was a willow, or perhaps it was an aspen. Carl may remember. Ryan was there too. Way atop Dorn Peak, at the end of the treacherous timber path, we had laid waste to any number of troublesome legal texts. The UCC took one through the heart, and I wasn't getting any refund on my shredded Federal Tax Code.

The day was dimming, and the sun had fallen behind the trees. Shadows grew long, and the coolness was setting in. Suddenly, there was a rustle from the woods behind us. There, at the edge of the clearing, it stood with a sadistic sway. I could have sworn it was coming right for us.

I opened up with massive muzzle flashes. Beside me, a shotgun came into play. Carl's 9 joined the defense, as did his Walther. Our aim was true, and our shots (at least most of them) found their target. The tree held fast though, dogged, determined.

It continued its attack on our position, nearly taking out Ryan. We stepped up our withering fire, and eventually we were rewarded by the telltale creak of falling lumber. Victory was ours.

humans:1
Killer Trees: 0

It's been many years now, since the battle of Dorn Peak. I still get the gun out now and then for maintenance and care. There's nothing quite as pleasurable as gun cleaning out on the back deck. It's been far too long, however, since I've gone shooting.

Anyone got any law books they want to slaughter?

Reading for Comprehension:
1. Have you ever read the Constitution?
2. Do you know the difference between perambulatory clauses and operative phrases?
3. What is the biggest thing, if any, that you've ever shot?