What do I need a major arsenal for, exactly? Am I really a better person if I have a wall full of gun racks and guns? And if it has nothing to do with being a better person, am I really that much safer with all that firepower? In a certain sense, yes, because I could've blown a hole in the wall to keep you out. But then, looking at it more closely, no, because I myself could've been killed by a fearful society trying to protect itself.
I was always brought up with the dictate that we have to protect our own. Because there's always someone out to get what you have, and to get you. So we've loaded up on guns, making our own shells, etc. But when you live that way, you notice enemies around every corner, someone wanting to take away your way of life. Finally, our way of life becomes a matter of complete fear. With an itchy trigger finger that gets itchier all the time.
I've been talking some of this over recently with the Pink Professor. I would've gone with his logo but I accidentally messed up the file. That ticks me off. So I used the guns graphic and my raging bear, which I've used numerous times. It's just as well, because rage is a part of the life I've been protecting. Fear and rage. Being a threat to our neighbors, who need to be gotten before they get us.
Then today -- and like I said, the Pink Professor was instrumental in helping me sort through some of this -- I took a major step in renouncing violence. How? By taking my guns to the pawn shop and selling them, literally lock, stock, and barrel. It took my own car and my cousin Roto used his truck to get all of them there. He couldn't believe I was doing it, since he's worse than me, standing guard every evening with a cocked gun at the window.
I listened to the Pink Professor. Do you know how crazy that sounds to a guy like Roto? But the P.P. is my friend, so I wasn't ashamed to tell Roto, Those days are behind me ... all the guns, everything.
But I want to tell you, it was hard. Especially when I looked at the guns all packed up. Suddenly I wanted to call the whole thing off. Because I saw how real it was. But I kept the larger purpose in mind, that violence is not the answer. They say it's never the answer, which I don't really believe. But frankly, is it ever the answer for one single, lone guy? No, it only causes heartache and misery.
There was a story on the internet just this morning (12-21-2010) about a guy -- I think he was in South Korea [turns out it was Brazil] -- who got married with apparently nothing on his mind wrong. But then at the reception, he pulled out a gun and killed his bride, the best man, and himself. I'm going to confess, there was a time in my life when I would've said, "So? What's your point? Do you have a point, or do I have to grind one for you on your head?" But those days are past. Now I say, he should've renounced violence, sold his guns at the pawn shop, got counseling, confessed his sick fantasy to his bride-to-be, then married her, if she was crazy enough to still want him.
Getting back to me, do I think it's going to be easy for me not to have my arsenal? Well, I'm thinking some days will be better than others. Like if I'm not angry. But other days will probably be tough. Like if I see a dog pooping in my yard, or someone dumps a bunch of cats in the driveway, or I'm watching something unpleasant on TV. Did you hear about that guy shooting out his TV set because he didn't like "Dancing with the Stars"? That wasn't me, but it could've been, if I was stupid enough to watch shows like that, or Fox News.
To renounce violence. That's a pretty lofty thing for a guy to do, right? But it really happened! I actually took my guns to the pawn shop today and sold them. I had one more major pang of regret, and that's when I saw the pawn guy carrying them into the back room. I turned and looked at the ones he had one last time. And that's how it ended. They're at the pawn shop. So some other violent guy who hasn't renounced violence can buy them and maybe kill me in a fit of road rage.
You want to hear how peaceful I am? I even called the pawn shop and warned them I was coming, and asked them not to be freaked out when I came in with armloads of guns. They said, "Just so they're unloaded," which kind of pissed me off; I mean, I'm not stupid, loser! But I counted to 10, held my head, and, in one final outburst, shot the phone. It was one of the cheapies you get at Walmart, so no big deal.
Tonight, then, here I sit, virtually defenseless. I was looking out the window at a dark yard, imagining all kinds of forms and shadows over by the garage. I just hope it's no one. At this point, all I've got is God help me. And since God does help those who help themselves, I'll have no one else to blame but myself.
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