Oppression By Bureaucracy

It’s not often I get an email that creates both sadness and almost-ungovernable rage, but Reader Bruce sent me this:

Last week, on one of the saddest days of my life, I went to a local police station and handed over my three rifles for destruction by the “Commissioner of Police”.

They were nothing special: a B/A Savage 320D in .22 Hornet; an Anschutz .22RF 1451 Sporter (with custom fibreglass stock); a Savage Model 12 .223 Varmint heavy barrel (in a custom fibreglass stock). But they were MINE! to me, they represented something: that society had accepted me as a responsible human being. I obsessively hand loaded for the Hornet and .223, seeking the best performance each was capable of.

So why did I do the unthinkable?

Firstly, my wife and I “downsized”. We moved from a suburban 4 x 2 on a huge lot into a 3 x 2 apartment close to the river. And then came the first cruncher. By law, my firearms had to be kept in an approved gun safe, bolted into brick or concrete on two surfaces. And the only place for that in our new abode was in the lock-up roller door garage. Uh-uh … the law says it has to “be under the main roof” … and it isn’t. My safe was “grandfathered” anyway. Had I bought another firearm or had one of mine rebarrelled, I would have been compelled to buy a new “approved” and vastly more expensive safe. So I had nowhere to store my guns (or ammo, for that matter).

Secondly, I have been a competitive target shooter for 51 years, from air pistol to pistol to full-bore to rimfire. I am nationally qualified as a Range Officer. I was, until I let it lapse, a qualified Commonwealth Shooting Coach. I have been able to use my rifles competitively and for hunting, quite legally. Not so now. If I want to use them competitively, I have to get “another” licence category for them, and compete a regulated number of times per year. Once they are so classified, I can no longer use them for hunting or vermin control. The reason? Our the Minister for Police declared that target firearms are likely to have lightened triggers and are not “safe” to use off a range.

My dilemma. Give up plinking or bunny busting or fox shooting, or give up competition. OK, so I’ll just use them for the former and forego competition. Problem. I can only shoot on “approved” properties. My friend has a farm. I can shoot there, provided he registers me every year on an internet portal with the police department. If his neighbour wants me to shoot a few foxes on his property, I am not allowed to unless he also registers me electronically. Oh, and calibres are limited by the size of the property you have permission to shoot on.

And so I handed them in. I have owned a firearm (or more than one) since 1967. I’m pleased to say I’ve never done anything dangerous or even vaguely illegal with any of them. And to now be told that I can’t have them unless I jump through bureaucratic hoops hurts. Deeply.

My point? DON’T GIVE YOURS UP! Fight the bastards until you can fight no longer.

Note that gun ownership can be ended simply by incremental “reasonable” gun control regulation — e.g. guns must be stored in a safe —–> safes must be encased in brick walls (an almost impossible condition to meet for most people, which is the point of such bastardy).

Bruce, my friend:  if you ever make it to Texas, I’ll organize a Schutzenfest for you with some of my fellow Texans, at a place where we can bang away all day without fear or apprehension.  As for guns… let’s just say you’d be overwhelmed by choice.

Levels

Sent to me by Reader Sean F.:


…who thinks that he’s reached Level 4.

So have I, with only a slight difference in gun choice.



…but yeah, conceptually I’m there.  I’m too old to fuck around with all that modern shit.

Dept. Of Righteous Shootings

Don’t know how I missed this one, right here in Texas.  Apparently, some choirboy decided that all he needed to rob a bank was a knife, and indeed, it kinda was.  All was going to plan, except that one of the bank’s customers didn’t think that this little wealth redistribution plan was acceptable, drew his trusty carry piece and shot the fucker dead.

Lesson learned:  Using a knife to rob a bank:  not the best instrument, at least in a state where customers are likely armed with guns and have a proper sense of right and wrong.

(Thanks to Reader Brad, who sent this news to me from his private fortress in deep-blue Illinois — where an action such as the above would have landed Our Hero in deep trouble.) 

Dept. Of Righteous Shootings

Several Readers sent me this happy tale, thankee all:

An alleged intruder is dead after being shot multiple times by a Spartanburg County, South Carolina, homeowner around 2 a.m. Sunday morning.

Wait… multiple times?

I’d like to know a lot more details about this happy episode, e.g. the gun used, cartridge, exactly where the choirboy’s worthless hide was perforated, but I guess we’re not going to be told any of that.  [pout]

Dept. Of Righteous Shootings

Whenever I’m talking about some scrote getting shot in the act of burgling someone’s house and threatening the homeowner, some bleeding heart always asks the question:  “So you think that your TV is more valuable than someone’s life?”

The answer, of course, is that it’s not whether I think that;  in fact, it’s the burglar who thinks that the TV is worth more than my life.  So as we’ve established that someone thinks that a life is worth less than a TV, it might as well be me who ends the philosophical discussion.

I was reminded of this when reading this happy little tale:

A man who reportedly became angry after being denied alcohol entered a Riverton, Utah, convenience store Friday with a shotgun and was shot dead by a bystander.

Okay, that’s worth some applause all by itself.

However, when the full story is revealed:

KUTV reported the man entered the convenience store and was denied an alcohol sale because he did not have identification. He allegedly responded by confronting the clerk and was then coaxed out of the store by other customers.

KSL noted the man had become “argumentative” and “belligerent” before having to leave the store. He then got into his vehicle and drove around, only to circle back to the store and enter carrying a shotgun, according to the report.

The Gephardt Daily pointed out that an armed bystander engaged the man when he re-entered the store, fatally shooting him.

But wait!  There’s MOAR!

One report indicated that two armed bystanders may have fired at the man.

Now go back to my original thesis.  Think about it:  This asswipe put the value of a bottle of hooch above the cashier’s life.  (I know, I know:  maybe he just wanted to scare the poor schlub into selling him a bottle of Old Rotgut 2-year-old;  but maybe he was that angry and frustrated that he intended to blast the guy into Kingdom Come — we’ll never know.)

So Our Hero (or Heroes?  O be still my beating heart) was quite within his rights to see him off;  and Anger Boy found out, too late, that the booze wasn’t really worth it.

Scratch one more asshole off the list of Them Wot Needs Killin’.