Author Richard Cahill's Website--Living By Our Motto:"There Are No Stupid Questions, Just Stupid People Asking Questions Everybody else already knows the answer to."

The Former Guy did a bravura turn in Texas last week, not only putting in an appearance at the NRA Convention three days after a bunch of elementary school kids were slaughtered by automatic weapons fire, but actually doing a few cheerful, snappy dance steps to the tune of “Hold On, I’m Coming,” in a completely oblivious celebration of their deaths.
 
This pissed off the heirs of Isaac Hayes, who wrote the song, but not many Republicans, or at least Republicans in attendance at the convention, as they cheered wildly for Trump strutting over the freshly-turned earth covering the bodies of third-grade gunshot victims.
 
When asked how Trump could possibly be celebrated for being so completely insensitive to tragedy and loss, one Republican operator, on condition of remaining anonymous, opined, “I think if he danced well, people would resent it. But he dances like a tipsy step-grandfather at a wedding everyone was hoping he wouldn’t show up for. As long as he doesn’t start moonwalking, I think he’ll be okay.”
 
Trump still couldn’t come in first in GOP Stupidity of the Week, though, as Marjorie Taylor Green, who’s been in I’m-Going-To-Make-You-Forget-Madison Cawthorn-Ever-Existed mode ever since the cross-dressing cripple lost his bid for re-election, first popped off on Twitter about Bill Gates growing fake meat in a “peach-tree” dish, thus proving that neither she nor anyone that works in her office ever passed high school biology.
 
Not content to rest on her peach-blossom laurels, she then attacked the Prime Minister of Canada for attempting to ban pistol sales in his country, warning him that “Russia would invade Canada,” if Canadians were forbidden to  purchase handguns.
 
Over here, we suspect that MGT couldn’t find Canada on a map, despite the fact that it the easiest country in the world to find on a map, and possibly she isn’t aware that there is a country currently being invaded by Russia, and the one weapon that the Ukrainians aren’t trying to shame us into giving them is handguns. Zelensky isn’t screaming himself hoarse begging for Glocks. That is because they are useless against tanks, artillery, drones, long-range missiles, etc. Putting a free handgun in the hands of every Canadian whose hands are big enough to hold one wouldn’t make Putin hesitate to invade the Yukon, if he thought that was a good idea.
 
Which he probably doesn’t, considering his current invasion is going over like an outhouse in a penthouse.
 
So, the consensus here is that Green wins the week.
 
Maybe she feels like dancing.

The unwanted patrol car spotlight of publicity has been shone upon the Uvalde, Texas Police Department, and it has been found wanting.
 
Bear in mind, this little cop shop had not been notorious for incompetence before being called upon to take down a mass murderer. The Uvalde cops, I presume, were capable of doing all those things that medium-town police departments do so well—setting speed traps, manhandling poor people with cars deficient in things like current registrations or working brake lights, finding drugs in vehicles that had failed to properly signal a turn, waiting outside nightclubs on weekends to make sure they got their quota of DUI’s, and coming over and shooting your dog if you reported a burglary.
 
They were probably no better and no worse than any similar sized police force in the nation, keeping in mind that all police locker rooms are basically armed high school locker rooms, with a similar ratio of bullying, jealousy, secret hatreds, open hatreds, grinding, years-long personal feuds, and loudmouths whom the rest of the room fervently wishes would shut up.
 
“So what?” I hear you saying. “Aren’t country clubs, boardrooms, and city councils basically the same thing as well?” Yes, but you probably get a little more bullying out of a PD. Bullies are naturally attracted to police work, because you can go right out of junior college into intimidating people full-time, while in other career paths, you have to work yourself up to boss-hood before you can use fear as a management mechanism, and that can take years.
 
Besides, you don’t call upon The Only Mexicans Here Mow the Grass Country Club when a teenager with an automatic rifle opens fire on a school full of babies. You call the cops, just not the Uvalde ones, because those cops are just going to mill around outside, in fear of their lives because there is a single shooter in a single room inside, who has body armor and a gun just like the ones they are carrying and wearing, and the Uvalde police only outnumber him twenty-to-one. The Uvalde cops are going to while away an hour pepper-spraying and handcuffing people who want to rush the school and save their kids. That's apparently illegal.
 
The Uvalde cops are going to wait until the Border Patrol shows up, and then make them wait for thirty minutes, until the Border Patrol says, “We’re tired of this child-murdering shit,” and goes in and shoots your mass-murderer for you.
 
Despite standing outside wetting in their tactical underwear during the killing spree, the Uvalde police were back in perfect form the next day, when Beto O’Rourke confronted his rival, the sitting Governor of Texas, Greg Abbott, and pointed out that Abbott, who was having a press conference along with his Lieutenant Governor and the man known throughout the land as America’s Top Asshole, Ted Cruz,* wasn’t going to do diddley about mass murdering, because he cared far more about the gun nut vote and NRA campaign cheese than he did about dead third-graders.
 
The Governor and his fellow pols were outraged, because when you’re having a press conference about how the right thing to do about school shootings is pray and then fortify school doors like bank vaults rather than do something that the NRA is against, like raising the age for purchasing a machine gun in the Lone Star State to the same age the government wants you to be before you buy a six-pack, you don’t want to be interrupted by some Democrat.
 
They had Beto kicked out on his ass. The Uvalde police handled it.
 
So, the Uvalde boys in blue are back on the job. Count on them. Just make sure that if you decide to report a burglary, lock the dog up before they arrive.

*Sorry, Rand. Regards to your neighbor.

​John Kuczwanski, who was the director of external affairs for Florida’s State Board of Administration, was killed in a shooting outside a convenience store last week.
 
The death of this Republican politician was apparently directly caused by his being a deranged gun enthusiast. Kuczwanski was involved in a minor accident with a Toyota Prius, which, witnesses say, was caused by Kuczwanski. When both drivers pulled into a convenience store parking lot, instead of exchanging insurance information, they exchanged gunfire, but only after Kuczwanski had rammed the Prius and taken a couple shots at the driver first, missing him.
 
The Prius driver was also armed, and also a better shot. He put a bullet through the director of external affair’s noggin. Kuczwanski was pronounced dead at the nearest hospital.
 
Because of Florida’s stand-your-ground self-defense laws, it is unlikely that the armed tree-hugger who killed Kuczwanski will face criminal charges. Another point in his legal favor is that Kuczwanski had just completed probation for pulling a gun on another driver eight years previously. The guy just enjoyed road rage, firearms and bullying people with loaded weapons.
 
Most of us, when we are involved in a minor accident, don’t automatically think, “Well, I can shoot my way out of this,” but not Kuczwanski. He apparently thought, “I’ll make this Prius pussy crap in his cargo pants before I show him my Geico card.”
 
Now, nothing is known about the pistol-packing Prius pilot. He could well be blissfully in tune with nature, a tender soul who weeps over dead manatees, of which they have plenty in Florida, simpatico with Greta Thunberg in all things, who just happens to pack heat when he gets behind the wheel of his environmentally-conscious car and does not contribute to global warming while driving to a Save Our Swamps candlelight vigil.
 
Or he could be just your average armed yick-a-doo who’s pissed off that he has to drive his sister-in-law’s Prius because his Dodge Ram with the hyper V-8 option is in the shop. He threw his gun on the passenger’s seat fuming, thinking “If anybody makes fun of me for driving this Biden-mobile, I’ll plug the bastard.”
 
We’ll never know, because the cops in Tampa aren’t going to release any info on somebody they’re not going to arrest. What we know for sure is that Florida needs a new external affairs director for the State Board of Administration. Likely they’ll never find another one like Kuczwanski, though. His boss said of him, “He was a quiet fellow. Everything in his world was about his family.” 
 
Well, okay. I guess you can’t say, “He was a crazed shithead, constantly on the verge of blowing up. Probably would have shot up the office sooner or later if this hadn’t happened."
 
Speaking ill of the dead and all that.

Title contributed by Nancy Federman

Having had the same email address practically since email was invented, I get an excessive number of emails, most of which I immediately delete. Seriously. I have to check my email every day, not to be responsible, which I don’t want to be, but because if I don’t, I’ll have fifty or more emails to delete tomorrow.
 
Some I don’t delete, though, just because of their sheer weirdness, and I don’t mean Nigerian-prince-wants-to-share-his-throne-with-you weird. I get the Epoch Times delivered to my inbox every day. How this happened, I don’t know, but thanks to the Times I am constantly updated on the number of people who have died after getting vaccinated against Covid-19 (thousands) and am never reminded that if you take 150 million people as your sample, thousands of them are going to die in a week anyway. In fact, the Epoch Times never calls the virus Covid 19—they call it the Chinese Communist Party Virus, because, while they hate the CCP, they are mostly Chinese themselves, having been originally funded by the Falun Gong, and while they sleep with racists, they object to the ‘rona being referred to as the China Virus. If they could get away with calling it the Black Lives Matter Disease, they would.
 
It was probably them that gave my email to the National Association for Gun Rights, whose head honcho, one Dudley Brown, sent me an email the other day with the eye-catching subject: Need 9MM? : We’re Giving Away 1,000 Rounds to One Lucky Winner!
 
I don’t need a thousand rounds of 9MM FMJ (full metal jacket) bullets, especially from someone who thinks a full colon belongs after a question mark. I haven’t had a gun since 1992 or so, and even then, it wasn’t a 9MM. I bought a gun in 1980 because I thought it would be cool to have one, went target shooting with my revolver a couple times, then stuck it in a succession of closets for the next twelve years. It was only removed one time during that period, which was when my then-wife tried to shoot an earthquake with it. I got rid of it when my son started to walk.
 
Dudley sucked up to me by addressing me as “Fellow Patriot,” but I quickly saw through that. In the minds of people like Brown, the meaning of “patriot” has migrated south from “one who loves his country and the principles it was founded on,” to “someone who is willing to murder Democrats.”
 
In addition to my chance at the free ammo, Dudley was willing to throw in a subscription to Gunpowder Magazine, the publication sponsored by the NAGR. So, I checked that out to see what I would be missing if I declined that offer. Sure enough, it was a collection of articles bemoaning states that are pushing “secure storage” laws for guns, which would forbid gun owners from concealing their pistols under their sofa cushions or in their kid’s toy boxes, and other articles praising the efforts of states like Texas, which are proposing laws to let every citizen carry concealed weapons everywhere, on the premise that surprise gunfire on account of any minor misunderstanding is a Constitutionally protected right.
 
They also do “product reviews.” One was of an automatic pistol with a built-in silencer, in case you wanted to fantasize that the CIA was willing to recruit your high-school-dropout ass while you were plinking cans and drinking Old Milwaukee in the woods, and the other was a murder machine capable of spitting out fifty rounds faster than you can say “Newt Gingrich.”
 
But I’m tempted. Subjects for satire seem so much sparser now that we no longer have a Caucasian-in-Chief, and who can tell what rich and colorful characters the Dudster can sell my email to?
 
I’m sending it in.

An Oregon man stood up for his Second Amendment rights by shooting himself in the genitals while waiting in line in an Oregon supermarket a few days ago.
 
Nick Ellington performed this act, and likely altered the size of the condoms he will be buying in the future, while showing off his Glock to a friend of his who was also standing in line at the supermarket.
 
This event raises any number of questions besides the obvious one, which is why are you taking your friend shopping anyway? The answer to this is, probably, that there’s only so many cubes of Natural Light a man can carry on his own, and shopping carts are for girls.
 
Now, there are good reasons to carry a rod while standing in line at the supermarket. We’re not going to argue with Nick on that. Quick, on the spot enforcement of the fifteen-item rule in the express line is optimized by firearm possession, and when the octogenarian in front of you pulls out a checkbook with her shaking fingers and asks the cashier, in a quavering voice, for a pen, a stern “Nobody does that anymore,” accompanied by letting her have a glimpse of your chiller will have the old girl whipping out her debit card like a regular American and getting the hell out of your way in no time.
 
I’m not saying there aren’t other occasions when carrying a gun may be more important. When you’re in possession of a paper bag full of hundreds is one good example. When you’re sitting on a batch of freshly cooked meth is another. If you’re a Proud Boy or a Patriot Prayer you keep your gun on you like a nun wearing a rosary—you just can’t feel close to Jesus without it. A lot of open-carry aficionados like to carry their gats into Walgreens when they’re picking up a thoughtful birthday or tender Valentine’s Day card, although from the pictures you see of guys doing that, long guns with telescopic sights are the preferred firearm for such occasions.
 
It is also much harder to shoot off your own dick with an AR-15, so maybe that’s the lesson Nick should learn here. Glocks are natural genital mutilators. If you’re a clumsy, excitable guy, a heavy-caliber pistol is not something you should be shoving in your belt before you go off to pick up a can of peas. A semi-automatic nearly as long as you are tall poses far less of a danger to the leading citizen of your trousers.
 
In any case, Nick has picked his spot on the mantlepiece of Guys with Guns. When your gun is fired, whom it hits determines whether you’re a Good Guy with a Gun, a Bad Guy with a Gun, or a Stupid Guy with a Gun. Before that, you’re just Another Guy with a Gun.
 
Congrats on finding your place on the Guys with Guns spectrum, Nick.

The wresting of state legislatures from Republican control has resulted in some states passing what they like to call “common sense” gun laws, like making people be 21 before they can buy a machine gun and “red flag” laws, which let the cops take guns away from people who seem to be homicidal or suicidal.
 
Modeled after sanctuary city ordinances, which allow local police to refuse to cooperate with ICE, gun sanctuary laws say the local sheriff can refuse to enforce gun laws passed by the state government.
 
“About time,” said Sheriff Humble Bugtick of Chitlin County, in the far west of Virginia. “Guns don’t want to be regulated by some Dimcrats in Richmond. Like Mexican kids in cages, they want to be free, except that guns are legal and belong in this country.
 
“A gun has the right to be stuffed under the sofa cushions, or carried in a purse so that a toddler can grab it and put a bullet in his mom. Guns belong everywhere, especially the bedroom, where they can be grabbed in case of an intruder or used in role-playing during kinky sex which occasionally results in a gunshot wound.
 
“Kids shooting each other with guns they have found in tool boxes or on your favorite stump in the yard to plink beer cans off of is a rich Southern tradition, like mixing mint juleps or making black people wait in line for hours to vote.
 
“Having a gun nearby makes people here feel safer. Voters here don’t like the thought of regaining consciousness from a Jim Beam or an Oxy stupor and not being able to grab a gun and point it at whatever woke ‘em up.
 
“A man’s got a right to defend his home, tent, still or meth lab out here. And we don’t want no part of them red flag laws where you decide in advance that a gun owner is homicidal or suicidal and take away all his guns. So what if a guy wants to kill his whole family and then himself? The Bible teaches that the most of them unfortunate people are going to Heaven anyway, and it clears out a pew in church.
 
“Let guns be free. And by that, I mean, let them be freely traded at swap meets and sold proudly in liquor stores without all those troublesome background checks. Let them be open-carried into CVS and Walmart. And if them Dimcrats want to come out here and try and take them away, we’ll be waiting for them.”

With that, the Sheriff tapped his sidearm meaningfully, which caused it to accidentally discharge, with the bullet apparently hitting the official in the foot. “Criminey,” he said as he limped off. “Been meaning to start wearing that holster on the other side.”

The school year started a few weeks ago, and little Brittany and little Keanu are going through the annual rites of the American educational system—cracking the spines of new books, reviewing personal or criminal highlights of the past summer with their peers, bullying the new kids in school, and practicing what to do if someone starts spraying bullets at them.
 
Even as I write this, kids all across America are practicing how to shelter in place, what objects to hide behind that are bullet-resistant (refrigerators, brick pillars, particularly large gym teachers) and what objects are not (their desks, and door and classroom walls). They are learning how to watch after classmates that are bleeding to death. They are strapping on their bulletproof backpacks and working up their sprinting skills in the hope of being one of those kids standing crying at one of those clusters of candles, crosses and balloons, instead of being the kid whose last school picture is at the center of it.
 
In the meantime, though, what have you been doing to avoid being the victim of a shooting rampage yourself? Kidding yourself, probably. You’re saying, “Hey, all these other random shootings are just a fad. It’s a summer thing—they’ll go back to shooting up schools right after Labor Day.” Or saying “I know what to do if I’m exposed to random gunfire—stop, drop, and roll.”
 
No, you idiot—that’s if you set your clothes on fire smoking your crack pipe. Here are the recommendations set forth by the Surgeon General, the Department of Homeland Security, and other government officials that are surrounded at all times with professional armed security.
 
Don’t go to church, especially if you are a Muslim, a Jew, either a white or black Christian, or any other member of a religious minority, as these services tend to get shot up. Also, don’t be an atheist, because praying harder is the only way to stop the mass shooting epidemic. That’s according to Texas state representative Matt Schaeffer, who says that only God can cure depraved hearts and minds. “Pray for protection. Like you pray your wife isn’t pregnant after both of you got fubared on Jack and cokes and had raw dog sex again. Don’t rely on the leaky condom of gun control.” *
 
Don’t believe in evolution. This is according to Tony Perkins, who blames the absence of God, instead of the presence of murderers, in public schools for mass shootings. If you believe life evolved from random chance, the next logical step, in Perkins’ mind, is for you to become a random shooter. Believing that life came from dust=no mass shootings. Believing that life came from slime=carnage. Even though slime is usually just wet dust.

The gay. Stay away. This is Candice Keller, Republican state representative from Ohio’s advice, who sees a direct link between tolerance of homosexuality and active shooters. Also, porn, video games, Colin Kaepernick and recreational marijuana. So, if you spot a gay guy smoking weed and watching porn while playing a video game and harboring a crush on Colin Kaepernick, confiscate that AR-15 right out from underneath his gay bed.
 
All this is useful advice, but I would add stay out of Walmart. They’re about to change all those smiley-face Price Rollback guys into little Chinese-looking guys that say “Sorry—New Tariff” anyway. Also stay away from country-western concerts. Downtown nightlife districts. Garlic festivals. College campuses. Work, needless to say.
 
In fact, stay home. And keep your head low there.

*May not be an exact quote.

The White House, under fire once again for not calling two mass shootings in one day “domestic terrorism,” clarified its position in a brief press release.
 
“Please note that President Trump and Stephen Miller both agree that only Muslims can be terrorists. And maybe people in a caravan, or if they’re in M-13. White loners who can’t get laid aren’t terrorists, even when they post hate screeds on 8chan 45 minutes before they open fire in a Walmart full of Hispanics that they’ve traveled 400 miles to get to because they weren’t enough Hispanics to shoot at home. 
 
“These people are just mentally ill cowards that nothing can be done about, because they just look like other white people responsibly owning a lot of guns and ammo and who vote Republican. Now, if this fellow had put on some ookie-looking Muslim head wrap or robes we could say terrorist for sure. Or he could have burned a Bible or a flag before he picked up his gun if he wanted us to call him a terrorist. So, it was his choice. Probably the result of playing too many video games. Right now, all we can say is, he for sure wasn’t a very fine person.
 
“Don’t think this Administration is doing nothing about mass shootings either. Right as we speak, Mike Pence is praying. And we’re encouraging as many people as we can to walk around holding candles, and leave balloons and stuffed animals at the places people fell.”
 
Texas governor Greg Abbott has also been criticized for his pro-gun policies, and his push to make Texas an open-carry state. His office said, “Open-carry had nothing to do with the fact that people observing a guy with an AK-47 going into a Walmart couldn’t identify him as a potential mass murderer because it’s perfectly legal in our state to care a military-style weapon into a big-box store just in case something goes down in the Health and Beauty aisle. Good guys with guns are our defense against crimes like this. It’s just a tragic coincidence that all those potential heroes appear to have been shopping at Target at the time.”
 
NRA head honcho Wayne LaPierre was quick to jump in to defend the mass shooters’ weapon of choice, the semi-automatic weapon.  “The fact that a guy in Ohio opened fire in an area with an active police presence and was still able to kill 9 people in less than a minute before the cops took him out does not mean that the AR-15 is an inherently dangerous weapon. The fact that random loonies prefer them is no reason to ban automatic weapons. What about America’s hunters? If they can’t take an infantry-style weapon into the woods, what happens to them if they suddenly find themselves surrounded by twenty hostile deer?
 
“Nevertheless, alert gun owners know that AR-15’s tend to go off in the heat of summer. I blame this spurt of violence on the hot weather we've been having, which has nothing to do with global warming. Just keep your machine gun in a cool dark place until after Labor Day, and we’ll all be fine.”

​An Alabama man accidentally shot and killed himself while changing his daughter’s diaper in a Chuck E. Cheese parking lot last week. The baby being changed was also shot, but expected to recover.
 
Suicide was ruled out, even though it is well known that going to too many children’s birthday parties at Chuck E. Cheese brings on a sense of existential despair and a profound feeling of loss of self. “Life has to be more than watching a giant dancing rat cavort on a big flat screen TV,” the more sensitive Chuck E. Cheese patrons have been known to say, before falling into a deep well of depression at wasting two hours of their brief existences there.
 
Fortunately, the place serves beer, or at least all the Chuck E. Cheese’s I went to in my early dadding days did. I’m not sure about one in Alabama, but it raises the possibility that the victim in this case had been drinking.
 
Being even mildly buzzed while changing a diaper can be dangerous, even without having a loaded chiller in your diaper bag. The process requires a strong stomach and a passable grasp of fluid dynamics, or you end up wearing a little poopie yourself. The changee often kicks and gurgles, presenting different angles that the changer is forced to stab at with his or her baby wipe. Before wrapping another diaper on the child, it is necessary to apply some sort of baby butt grease, or at least some powder, to the target area. It is possibly that tube of lubricant the victim was reaching for when he accidentally grabbed his loaded gat instead.
 
There are concealed carry diaper bags available, because this is America and there just had to be, but there is no report that the victim in this case was using one. It was a regular old diaper bag, covered with images of Heffalumps or Teletubbies, like the one I hauled after my entry into dadhood. I packed it many a time—diapers, wipies, baby ass lotion. I never added a loaded heater, because I never fantasized about saving everyone at a Chuck E. Cheese’s from a mass murderer, possibly because I thought they all deserved to die for making me go there.  I fantasized about potty-training my kid instead, which I eventually did. I am slightly ashamed to say that the realization that I had bought my last pack of Pampers was the proudest moment of fatherhood for me. Changing a baby is not a natural act for a man. Women will actually volunteer to diaper an infant not their own, just to get their hands on that adorable baby flesh. A man’s natural reaction to the opportunity to change a child’s bottom is to run away and hide, possibly in the woods.
 
But this Alabama man was at least woke enough to change his kid’s diaper. He wasn’t quite brainy enough to figure out that his home town was not as full of lurking murderers as Fox News and the NRA would have him believe, though, so he took his piece everywhere he took his daughter. He had a couple beers, his child had a slice of pizza and pooped before the show was over. They’ll do that. He took the child outside. When he started changing the little girl he panicked somehow, maybe because he got a little poo under his fingernails—that happens, especially if alcohol is involved. He reached into his diaper bag quickly, for an emergency baby wipe, grabbed his loaded weapon instead, and now there’s nothing left of him except a diaper bag with a bullet hole right through Tigger's ears in it.
 
The local cops said it was “a tragic accident.” That’s because they’re not allowed to say, “This was Darwin at work.”
 
But that’s what they’re thinking,

​The National Rifle Association claims it is going broke and may soon cease to exist. It blames the State of New York, which is screwing with its insurance business, but the truth is, the NRA is ceasing to exist because it has won all of its battles. We live in a country where, in most of its states, it’s easier to buy a gun than a bottle of Fireball. Americans frown when a diabetic buys a donut, but shrug when a schizophrenic gets an assault rifle. Why renew your NRA membership when you can spend the money on an extra box of hollow points instead?
 
There’s a whole slew of Democrats out there who want to regulate assault rifles, but even the dumbest gun-toter is starting to become dimly aware that nobody is coming to search his sofa cushions for concealed weapons. Ammunition is still freely available at the liquor store. If a gun enthusiast wants to strap his AR-15 on when he goes to CVS, then trip over his massive receipt and accidentally shoot himself or the person in front of him in line, it is his God-given American right to do so.
 
There are other factors, of course. The NRA is depressed because sassy Russian spy Marina Butina is no longer sleeping with it. The Ted Nugent Save the NRA Victory Tour crowds numbered only in the dozens, barely enough for the band to buy gun oil so they could stay on the road.
 
“Oh, God, this is horrible,” I hear you thinking. “How is Ollie North going to make a living? Will he have to go back to selling weapons to Iran? And what will Wayne LaPierre do when he’s not getting paid to trash kids who are complaining about getting shot at?”
 
This is where your thoughts and prayers can help. Pray for the NRA. Maybe the Creator of the Universe just hasn’t noticed its plight, Him being busy fine-tuning the galaxies and such. Only you getting down on your knees and imploring Him silently will get him to slap His forehead and say “These quasars look good enough. I’d better get back to Earth and save the only organization that is devoted to making sure every American has a gun to inadvertently discharge at the mall.”
 
“Couldn’t I just send the NRA money like I used to when Obama was coming after my guns?” Some of you are thinking this, but it isn’t thinking big enough. Buy a lottery ticket, donate it to the NRA, and pray that it’s a winner. One nice Powerball jackpot would keep the NRA going until enough Democrats get elected that they could plausibly scare people into thinking the FBI is going to confiscate their assault shotguns again, and the cheese will start flowing back into the NRA’s coffers.
 
If you still think you haven’t done enough, and if you live near an NRA office, gather up all of your stuffed animals, candles and half-filled balloons and make a little memorial on its steps, so other people will stop and think about your loss.
 
That works almost as well.