"Marvin Long, Jr." <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> wrote:
>Anyway, whatever combination of
>circumstances were involved, for the first time I felt in my gut, "Oh my,
>I'm holding an instrument of death." Not, "Guns are dangerous but OK for
>target practice," but, "Dear me, I could turn around and kill somebody,
>and so could anybody else on the range." For the first time I had a
>moment with a gun that was unmediated by romanticism or myth.
The first and only time I've handled and used a firearm was a similar
experience. My father-in-law bought my wife a .22 rifle for some
unfathomable reason and we took it to a shooting range.
The other patrons who stick in my mind were some rednecky-looking times
trying out a shotgun ("this... is my boomstick!" is an accurate assessment
of the noise from that thing) and a woman and her mother (neither of whom
looked mentally stable) trying out a .45 revolver.
Compared to those, the .22 rifle was a popgun. Aim, squeeze, and "pop" - a
small hole appears in a target 50 feet away. It seemed surreal. What
instantly came to mind was an episode of the forensics show "The New
Detectives" recreating an investigation where a sociopath is driving around
farmlands picking off joggers with a .22 rifle. Aim, squeeze, and "pop",
someone's dead.
Wheee.
Joshua
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