totallyfrozen
One of the Regulars
- Messages
- 250
- Location
- Houston, Texas, United States
When I was 11, I snuck my .22 rifle out of the house and killed a squirrel. After a short while when it sunk in that the squirrel wasn't going to get up and would never climb a tree again, I felt bad. Sad lesson learned. Even though my dad was a professional hunting guide and had hunted all over the planet, I don't hunt.My folks didn't mind my playing with
toy guns or air rifles.
But I stopped when I was ten after
wounding a bird on the wing.
I took care of it and the bird was able
to fly again.
It was not until I was 19 that I picked
up a gun again.
Thanks, Uncle Sam!
I decided long ago that guns are for dealing with bad people and dangerous animals--but mostly bad people. My Uncle Sam just taught me how to deal with the bad people without getting dealt with myself.
Today, I work in a maximum security prison with a lot of bad people. I've had some inappropriate, threatening things said to me by people who are, uh...doing less than a life sentence. I never hesitate to tell the inmate clearly in plain English, "If you show up at my house, there will be a nasty gunfight and the Army taught me how to gunfight. I'm still here, right? So you're best off forgetting about me."
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