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.