According to SOTI, the oldest mass shooter in U.S. history was age 72.
I turn 72 on Ammo Day in November this year.
Coincidence? I guess it all depends what happens in the world, whether I miss it by thismuch or hang on for a year or two and go for the record. Right now it seems unlikely that I’d shoot the works prematurely, so to speak, because I’m quite enjoying all this Trumpy goodness and the Marxist wailing. But later on?
Factors that could influence this event: Democrats cheat their way into winning the Presidential Election in 2028 and immediately call for universal gun confiscation or whatever (see: Virginia’s new gun control law as a starting point). The problem with this scenario is that assuming I live that long, I’d be up against some fierce competition — and that’s just among my Readers. Gawd knows how many other irascible Olde Pharttes are out there who would prefer to take out a few (okay, lots of) Commies rather than let their lives end gradually in the excruciating pain of [insert Fatal Senior Ailment here].
As SOTI also said: “Right now, a lengthy prison term seems less like a deterrent and more like a paid vacation, with free medical.”
Note to the Perpetually Fearful: this whole post was a joke.
Or maybe not.