Thursday - September 03, 2009

Wiener Alert

Lefty Journalist Gets His Gun in DC

Then gives it back. Because he doubts his ability to use it to save his own life. Even though he lives in a crime infested neighborhood.

despite the fact that my government trusts me to own a gun, I’m not sure how I feel about having a weapon that can send a piece of metal the size of a thimble hurtling through space with such speed that it could make someone’s head explode.

Hey, despite my sure knowledge that reading this drivel is going to make my head explode, I’ll do it, just in case you find your balls by the end of the article and learn how to man up. But I know you won’t. Reporters are Liberals. Liberals are pussies. Therefore ... I’ll leave the obvious logical conclusion up to my readers.

From the moment I wrap my fingers around the grip, the gun feels uncomfortable, unwieldy and so surprisingly heavy that my entire arm dips a bit as Abraham hands it to me. A toy it is not. As I adjust my grip, the muzzle dances wildly around, pointing its deadly black eye all over the room.

Oh brother.

But hey, at least he gave it a try. And the newspaper (The Washington Post) covered his expenses. And how! It cost him plenty, even though the gun was only $275:

It took $833.69, a total of 15 hours 50 minutes, four trips to the Metropolitan Police Department, two background checks, a set of fingerprints, a five-hour class and a 20-question multiple-choice exam.

and it goes on for pages ...

… he’s also preparing me to shoot at another human being. Because, really, isn’t that what a handgun is for? It’s not for squirrel hunting—certainly not in the District, where the law prohibits me from taking the gun out of the house unless I’m going to a “lawful firearm-related activity” such as the shooting range.

The first shots are an absolute shock, a full-body experience I feel in my shoulders, hips and knees. The gun doesn’t fire so much as explode, kicking back ferociously, releasing a hot whiff of air and a bright red flash from the muzzle. It’s louder, more violent and more cannonlike than I expected, and I realize that part of me is more than nervous. I’m a little scared.

... and as far as I can tell, he’s doing his training with a .38 revolver. I think he must be Mr. Sensitive. .38 target ammo in a (probably) 25 ounce revolver. Pop. Pop. Pop. Recoil? What’s that?

later on it starts to get a little better, and the guy is running Mozambique drills without even knowing it:

I completely forget that the gun I’m holding is a deadly weapon.

By the end, I find myself having so much fun that I ask for the target to be moved back. For my last test, I want to try shooting two to the body, one to the head, which is more difficult than going for the bull’s-eye in the middle of the target.

I hit the body twice, but miss the head.

And after all of this hoo-ha? It turns out you can’t even actually buy a gun in DC, you have to have one transferred there. To the ONE guy with an FFL. And he’s ripping people off blind - the usual transfer fee is $40, on the receiving end. Oh no, not in DC:

It may be legal to own a gun in the District, but you still can’t buy one within the city limits. At least not in a gun store because there are none. Instead, you must make the purchase in one of the 50 states and have the weapon transferred into the custody of one man: Charles Sykes, who plays an odd role in the transaction.

As a licensed firearms dealer, he could, theoretically, sell guns. But he chooses not to because “I don’t want to have to carry an inventory,” he says. “Too much liability.” Instead, he’s the middleman, the only licensed dealer willing to help D.C. residents acquire handguns, a nice little side business for which he charges $125.

...

... even though the dealer tacks on a $35 fee for transferring it to Sykes.

Son of a gun. Literally. $160 in transfer fees, 4 times the standard rate. Boy, these new found freedoms and the rules put in place sure sound like a whole new serving of Jim Crow pie to me. FIVE HUNDRED AND SIXTY DOLLARS in taxes, fees, licensing, registration, and training costs. PLUS the cost of whatever the gun was. Yeah, sure, all those poor folks down there are just going to rush out and legally arm themselves now, you betcha. Um, considering that you can get a gun on the street for $100? Not a chance.

And then there are more hoops to jump through ...

Next, I have to go to the police station—my second visit—to get fingerprinted and pass a 20-question exam that covers D.C. gun laws, a hurdle neither Maryland nor Virginia requires. Then I have to wait 10 days—considerably longer than in Virginia or Maryland—while police run a criminal background check.

Only then will the gun be mine.

Yo bro, in NJ that 10 days is 30. And that’s IF the government follows it’s own law. Which they are famous for not doing when it comes to handgun permits.

and of course he isn’t going to actually keep the gun. His wife won’t even let him bring ”that thing” home with him. And now comes the necessary lefty anti-gun talking points BS:

The chances of something bad happening with a gun in the house might very well outweigh the chances of using it effectively in that kill-or-be-killed situation. What’s more likely: a Plaxico Burress-esque accidental discharge or a wild-eyed murdering-rapist crack addict breaking into the house?

In DC? Hell, I’d bet on the cracky doing a B&E in a heartbeat. Hell, I’d give you 20:1 odds.

and yet our intrepid reporter still remains Pharaoh, the King of DeNile

While I’d love to believe I will never need, my wife and I have often seen drug dealers in our alley doing their business. To no avail, we have called the police. A couple of years ago, a neighbor was nearly abducted in front of her house. And then my wife’s car was broken into while parked directly behind our house. Which led to another of the should-we-move-to-the-burbs discussions that have become more frequent of late. Once again, we talked about better lighting and alarm systems.

Horry Clap, get this guy some Viagra, pronto:

Still, I’m torn. Say the murdering-rapist crack addict is charging up the stairs, coming to get us. Would I, as he raises his gun, be able to fire mine? The District can make me take a five-hour class and pass an exam. But none of that ensures that in the heat of the moment my hands won’t be shaking so badly that I send a bullet hurtling not into the center mass of my would-be assailant but instead into the bedroom of my neighbor’s teenage son.

Hey, isn’t this a blanket admission that the criminals are all armed and intent on causing you physical harm? And he never once makes the connection that DC is putting him, the law abiding citizen, through tons of BS just to be on a slightly level playing field in his own home! Forget about out in public or in his car! Verboten!

Well at least he gave it a try. And maybe with a bit of recreational target practice using rented guns - dude, bring your wife along! - some attitudes might change in his house. But don’t bet on it. And he pointed out some really rotten aspects of the DC gun laws, even if he did so unintentionally. So hurrah I guess. But it’s worth a read just to look into the lefty mindset from a safe distance.

Pardon me, I’ve got to move another few thousand rounds upstairs from their box in the living room. Here’s the link to the whole article. Enjoy.

PS - Mr. Brave, our brash reporter here, bought himself a used Taurus 85. An airweight snubby. As if he were going to carry concealed. Go figure. The smallest bit of research would have lead him to buy a 4” barreled steel revolver as a house gun. 

Posted by Drew458     on 09/03/2009 at 01:26 PM   
Filed Under: • Guns and Gun Control •  
• Comments (10) • Trackbacks(0)  Permalink •  

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