Mexican Food and Gun Debate

 

Just spent an afternoon catching up with some college friends, two are currently professors, two are in the private sector, and one is on her fourth rich husband. If I ever scrap together the money, I'm getting the name of her plastic surgeon because her puppies are FABULOUS! You know how women bitch when men stare at their tits? I swear to God, they were staring at me. I kept trying to avoid "eye" contact; but no matter where I looked, they were there. Staring. But I digress. We were evenly divided. Two moonbat professors and a professional gold-digger against a John Deere dealer, an investment broker and me.

 

The conversation started out lively, each side passionately defending its position; but then talk turned to the last Gun Grab legislation (moonbats hate it when you say "gun grab", it's unseemly). And things really got interesting. We did the endless circle argument: Gun Free Zones don't work because criminals don't follow laws. Then destroy all the guns, destroy the gunmakers, destroy anyone that has anything to do with guns. Only cops and military need guns, anyway. Oh really? If the privately owned guns are all destroyed, and gun manufacturers are destroyed, and gun dealers are destroyed, why do cops and the military need guns? ~crickets~ Well? Not everybody is going to turn in their guns, criminals will always find a way to get guns, crazy people will always find a way to do harm. So, gun laws don't work? Gun bans don't work? ~crickets~

 

Then, being the obnoxious redhead I am, I threw in the possibility that all of the federal ammo buildup, and the push to disarm American Patriots had more to do with the establishment of an authoritarian dictatorship. Stunned silence, sputtering, and then the accusations of racism, hatred, blah, blah, blah. I thought the John Deere dealer was going to take the English professor out in the parking lot and whup him. But through all this, the interesting thing was the Gold-digger's reaction. As her side got louder and meaner, she got quieter and almost sad. The party broke up shortly after that little discussion with the two professors paying "their fair share" and not a penny more, the rest of us covering the tab and a healthy tip for the poor waitress who bravely waded in a time or two with some good points. Hugs to my friends, and Stacy (no longer the gold-digger in my mind) followed me to the momvan.

 

"Do you really believe what you just said?"

"Unfortunately, Stacy, yeah I do."

"Oh, my husband talks about it a lot, but I don't really listen. I thought he was just talking shit. Um, is there any info out there? That I can look at?"

 

I handed her a copy of "It's the Constitution, Stupid" and "III to Liberty", a couple of III cards, and my phone number. Gave her a hug and told her to call if she had any questions; I don't have all the answers, or most of the answers, but I have great resources. And a badass mentor.

 

Moral of the story? Some of the sheeple don't have their heads shoved so far up their asses that they can't hear the truth. Keep talking, shine the Light of Liberty so those searching can find you.