Thoughts from the ammo line

Our old friend Ammo Grrrll has filed another edition of Thoughts From the Ammo Line. Ammo Grrrll speaks:

You know that scene in The Wizard of Oz where Dorothy says, “We aren’t in Kansas any more, Toto”?

We had only been back in our dusty little village (DLV) in Arizona for a few weeks after the summer break when we were shopping for groceries at Fry’s. My husband picked up Conceal and Carry Magazine and added it to the pile. Our checkout lady was an attractive African-American woman who also may or may not have been gay. Wouldn’t bet the ranch either way. And couldn’t care less.

To our surprise, she picked up the magazine and actually started thumbing through it. Uh-oh, we thought. In Minnesota, as a member of at least 2 and possibly 3 protected groups, she could have summoned Security and claimed that the magazine had made her feel threatened or – my favorite bogus charge – “uncomfortable.” (“You have the right to remain comfortable. Anything anyone says or does that makes you uncomfortable can be litigated…as long as you aren’t a white Christian male who likes women…”)

But, no. We aren’t IN Kansas any more, remember?

“What do you carry?” she asks, conversationally. Somewhat flummoxed, my husband answered her.

“I carry a .25,” she says, “I want to put ’em DOWN, not just scare ’em.” “Are you sure a .25 will put ’em down?” asked my husband. And she replied, “I’m a very good shot!”

Well, OK. Bless your little heart, sister. Now, I don’t know where this lady lives. Our DLV has just been rated the 8th safest town in Arizona. But what was most striking at the last gun show I attended was just how many women, elderly people and people with disabilities were shopping for weapons. In other words, the most vulnerable among us – looking for Mr. Colt’s “equalizer” or at least a sporting chance.

When we women were younger, we could convince ourselves that we could possibly fight our way out of trouble. We were undoubtedly grievously mistaken. Testosterone is just a terribly unfair advantage! But, once we hit 60, say, no matter how many Zumba classes we have attended, it becomes crystal clear that we are sitting ducks. And, make no mistake, thugs go for the easiest targets. Counting on a thug to say, “Oh, Jeez, I didn’t see your wheelchair, there, never mind,” is a pipe-dream. Ladies, forget your traditional friends, Ben and Jerry. Count on Mr. Smith, Mr. Wesson or their Austrian cousin, the super-reliable Mr. Glock.


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