Dear Guns,

Dear Guns,

First, let me say that I wish I didn’t have to lump you all together. I know there’s nothing you hate more than blanket generalizations. Unfortunately, one bad apple can spoil the whole bunch, and since you all look alike (basically) and perform the same primitive function—to destroy—you all get lumped in together.

Except for you squirt guns, Nerf guns, and 1980s hair band L.A. Guns. Everyone knows you guys are different, so you’re exempt. By the way, thanks for being cool.

Now, back to you no-prefix guns.

I know none of this is your fault, since you don’t kill people. (If there’s one thing I’m “clear” on it’s that people kill people.) However, I’m wondering why—if guns don’t kill people—we send our soldiers off to war with guns. Better to just send them with nothing, right? No sense in having to tote some non-killing object along. It might just get in their way.

Forget that. I don’t want to get argumentative with you right from the get go. Lord knows we’ve had our fair share of disagreements.

So let me take a different approach. Perhaps I can get your opinion on a few things. I know it’s rather unusual to write a letter to a gun, but whenever I try to discuss this with other humans things get heated, and since bad things happen when you get heated, I thought it best to write down my thoughts.

First, what’s your take on this whole Second Amendment issue? I mean, this country’s founders thought that you were so important that they wrote you into the Constitution. Holy crap! That’s impressive.

Are you upset that militias are a thing of the past?

Of course you’re not, because those of us who pet you at night and whisper sweet nothings into your ear blatantly ignore the first few words of that amendment.

Speaking of sweet nothings, I have another question.

What’s your secret? How have you managed to get a segment of the population to worship you? I mean you don’t do anything (like kill). You’re just sort of there as a silent observer, until you make your presence known. I do have to hand it to you. You know how to make an impact.

Okay, if you don’t want to tell me that secret, then maybe you can tell me this. Don’t open relationships bother you? I mean, here you are, the old faithful gun, always there when your human compatriot needs you, and that lovely person who idolizes you so goes around with other guns. Doesn’t that drive you crazy? I mean are you not gun enough to do the job yourself? Your sole purpose of existence is to cause havoc and destroy. Can’t you handle that? Apparently not, since most people who cradle you have other guns that they cradle.

But, I guess if you’re okay with that, I’m okay with that.

Actually, there’s a lot that I’m not okay with.

I’m not okay that you’re so easy to get. I know you’re useful sometimes, and I’m sure everyone alive will have at least one moment in which they wish they had a gun, but that doesn’t mean that any Tom, Dick or Harry should have you.

I’m not okay that instead of showing actual patriotism--which might require making tough decisions, and doing things like realizing that our founding document was written in a country that’s different from ours in race, gender, sex and culture, and just might need to be revisited—that some people think simply protecting you at all costs makes them patriotic. Again, how’d you get so lucky to be singled out?

That’s all for now, Guns. I have more to say to you, but I feel myself getting worked up, and I want to keep this civil.

I’ll leave you with a warning though. You’re becoming less popular as years pass by. Fewer people have you these days. And since there’s no hope of getting rid of you, our only hope is that people choose not to have you. So your days are numbered.

Finally, something I can thank you for.


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