a hypothetical analog?


"guns don't kill people. people kill people"

let's say, for a second, that the above defense of gun ownership wasn't retarded illogical irresponsible. let's say, for a second, that guns manufactured purpose was to show the love of god to others.

now, jump into your delorean, pump that fucker up to 88 mph, and zippity zip back to, let's say, august 28th of 1963. you're in the crowd, way back in the back. you can barely make out the lincoln memorial, much less hear the "i have a dream" speech. you kick yourself for not setting the time on the delorean for a few hours earlier, but are too tired or too lazy to hop back in the car and try again. you just decide to kick in the back with the other late-to-the-party'ers. you start talking to some well-enough meaning, middle-aged white guy. he's come to the march on washington for the spectacle of it all. he has taken his place near the back so he can hightail it back home before the crowd disperses and he's swallowed by the overwhelming mass of black people fellow human beings.

middle-aged white guy is nice enough you observe. during your conversation about the day and the era he lives in, he says something that strikes you as familiar.

"it's not really racism that hurts people. it's the racists."

you think to yourself, "what the fuck?", but you keep that profanity in your brain and respond with a curious, "hunh?"

"we all got racism in us, son. we can't help it. it's the world we live in. there's, what, 189 million people in this country nowadays? that's a whole lot history, filled with slavery and our country being okay with slavery. now, we don't got slavery. we just got people who love black people like the bible tells us to, and we got people who are trying to pretend they love black people like the bible tells us to, and we got people that still wish we had slavery. all of us are sick. we all have the racism. it's in our dna. it's how our country was born. it'll always be in us." 

you nod your head because you don't know if this guy is batshit crazy or the grandfather you never had. either way, you want him to keep talking.

"there's 189 million of us in this country, son. even if we wanted to, we couldn't ask everyone to give us their racism back. it's just not possible. we just got to hope that the older this country gets, the more of them that still want slavery will die off." 

the racists?

"yep. the ones that take them ugly thoughts that we all have in our heads and let 'em all out. shoot black people. spray 'em with hoses. keep their kids away from the black ones. burn crosses in their yards. 

it's not the racism that's the problem. it's the racists."

i gotta go. he's done talking. i better get home." 

you sit there and let the mass of people wash past you. some of 'em give a double-take to your sweet-ass ride, but most of them look happy to go where they are going. not where you're going.

back to the future.

--------

after sarah link-bombed my facebook timeline this afternoon, the above scenario flashed through my head while reading the ensuing conversation. i don't know why the delorean in my mind took me to 1963 and not to some other important and formative date in our country's history. maybe i'm just already feeling black history month. maybe it was "the racism" inside me. who knows.

the gun thing, as i've noted many times here in the last couple months, kills me. the discussion kills me. people talking about losing their freedoms and rights is starting to kill me.

"thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven." a commenter on the christian left blog said that uttering those words today would be tantamount to calling for a revolution, and they'd be right.

we are so fucking fascinated and entitled to these country specific rights and freedoms of ours that we casually and conveniently lose sight that being born here versus the middle of the rain forest was just dumb luck. we casually and conveniently lose ourself in what we enjoy and what we've earned versus what is best for the greater good. we hide behind what can be passed through our broken legislative system instead of taking a proper stand. and we casually and conveniently play the "well, i'll never be that crazy motherfucker that abducts kids off school buses" card with no regard for the guy that actually is that crazy motherfucker.

the old-timer in my pretend past was well-meaning, but he was wrong. it's not the racists that are the problem. it's, of course, the racism.

mlk didn't "have a dream today" of no more racists. he had a dream of no more racism.

now, let's get back to the subject at hand.

"guns don't kill people. people kill people."

"we've got to attack mental-illness."

"we've got to have less violence in movies and video games."

"i just shoot my handheld weapon of mass-destruction for fun. at paper targets and beer bottles."

"my gun that was passed down to me from my great, great, great grandpappy has never been shot. never will be shot. i'm not giving up that gun. you're asking me to give away my grandpappy."

the hypothetical analog in 1963 is not, i repeat, not apples to apples.

but the sentiment is.

the sentiment is that i am choosing to ignore the problem at the same time i'm glossing over the symptom of the problem. the sentiment is one of passing the buck. the sentiment is "it could never happen to me." the sentiment is prideful. the sentiment places more importance on "your" life than "their" life. the sentiment implies that something must be done, but washington is too broke to fix it.

the sentiment is for shit.

"thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven."

why say that shit if we don't really mean it? you think there are guns in heaven? for real??? heavenly shooting ranges where you just blow off some of that angel angst after saint peter picked your pocket in texas hold 'em again?

alright.

our world, on the whole, man. we don't want heaven on earth. if we did, mission work and caring for others and taking extra special care of the poor wouldn't just be a vacation to build a church somewhere in mexico. or an exception to the rule. it would be a lifestyle. a way.

the way.

we don't want heaven on earth. we want our guns. we want what we've earned, dadgummit. we want more drug tests. we want what'll make it through the congress, because ain't shit making it through congress.

we want for shit.

the gun thing, man. it's not a choice. it's not a debate.

it's a mutation. it's a perversion. it's scary. and it's sad.

i have a dream, too. and don't misunderstand me. it's a bigger dream than you turning in your guns because it sends the smallest of messages that you're interested more in the greater good than your born in the usa rights.

but for the moment, i do wish the "good" people would turn in their guns. throw 'em in a pit. burn 'em. ban them. stop manufacturing the ammunition. and let the racists the bad guys eventually die off.

stop making excuses. stop being afraid.

what are you afraid of?

god's got this.

doesn't he?