A clownish view of concealed carry
It has always struck me that if I were a diamond courier, I might want to have a gun in my pants.
But I'm not a diamond courier and there has never been a gun in my pants. I have spent most of my life living in an urban setting, working in an urban setting, or both. I can never remember living anyplace where the nightly local news didn't have gun crimes to report.
In the Navy I qualified as a Marksman with a .45 Automatic. I even got a ribbon.
I'm a small guy who has grown to carry an avoirdupois that demonstrates my love of food and is testimony to my barely passing acquaintance with good, sound cardiovascular health. I could probably throw one reasonable punch if I had to. As a much younger man, as an adolescent really, I threw a lot of punches with the street mates where we grew up. Most other such groups were ethnically monolithic; ours was mixed. None of the groups felt the need to arm up. Sure, we used 50s street arsenal weapons like bicycle chains and baseball bats. A few had knives.
Our "fights" were almost totally confined to threats and name calling as a result of the doctrine of mutually assured destruction coupled with little or no actual hatred toward the other guys.
I grew up confident in my ability to take care of myself and my family. For quite some time I carried a big screwdriver under my can seat. I no longer carry that, preferring instead to carry a big, remarkably heavy 66" folding umbrella.
But no gun and no desire for one.
If a perp ever grabs my umbrella, shoves it up my ass, and opens it, the worst I get is a butt ache a headache
See, the simple fact is I DO NOT LIVE IN FEAR. It is my heartfelt belief that concealed carry proponents are basically candy asses with a gun for an exoskeleton. They CC because they fear.
They're candy asses. They're chicken shit wimps who need to gun to complete them. I find them sad excuses for men.
~OR~
They carry guns because they want to use them to kill someone. They're the ones who brag over a few beers about wanting to blow away punks and druggies and thugs, and any other broad brush target group they can construct.
But they're the real punks. Scared, candy ass, whistle butt punks.
Now, back to that diamond courier. He needs more than that CC gun in his pants. He needs a real Luca Brazzi, but the improved one who doesn't get killed by someone not bigger, not badder, but completely unafraid of his illegal concealed carry.
Personally, and speaking just for me, I harbor feelings ranging from pity, to disgust, to derision for people who feel a need to carry a gun. For a very special few of them, I see . . . . people who don't realize they look like even funnier clowns.
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