There is only one common sense solution to end the carnage. Gun Control. Sensible gun laws.
And it also is damn time some of these irresponsible politicians, and yeah, I’m talking to you Palin, and you Bachmann, and you Steven King, and a whole host of other primarily in the GOP) stop preaching hate and pretending you stand for freedom and the American way. You don’t. You are evil. Go to hell where you belong.
This rant was inspired by today’s shooting in Wisconsin.
Since all the cool kids are doing it, well, here is mine. Don’t hate me.
* * * * *
Unlike my cooler blogger sisters, I loved to babysit. I was born to babysit. And I had the best job on the planet.
Mr. and Mrs. F went out every single Saturday night, from 7 to 11 or so. They had two really nice kids, a huge colonial house and a swimming pool. At about 12 I started supervising kids in that pool, in spite of the fact that I bear no resemblance at all to Michael Phelps.
These folks were rich, but incredibly nice. And they loved me.
Their house was huge, and quite old, which meant it squeaked and made all kinds of noises at night. My much smaller house was old, too, so I was pretty much used to the noises.
But it was 9th Grade that year. I was reading In Cold Blood by Truman Capote for English class. Yup. Reading about the slaughter of an entire family in their home.
To make matters worse the F’s house was being renovated. So after the kids went to bed, I hung out with the terrifying book in a part of the house I was unfamiliar with.
There were noises. Of course there were noises.
There were footsteps. Upstairs.
Was it in Hadley’s room, at the top of the stairs?
Or was it in Scotty’s room, a few footsteps down the hall?
I knew it was in one of the two. I could hear it. Clear as a bell, on the hardwood floor upstairs.
So I did what any dedicated babysitter sitting next to a fireplace would do. I picked up the poker.
I don’t want to kill anybody, I thought. So I put it back.
I picked up the little shovel. The spade. I was ready to protect those kids no matter what. And I crept up the carpeted steps.
I looked down the long, hallway. I didn’t want to alert the killer to my presence, so I didn’t turn on the light. The carpeted hallway was lit only with one measly nightlight. But the thick white carpeting helped me see that there was no burglar/murder there.
But there was plenty of space for the burglar/murder to hide.
I walked into Hadley’s room. She was sleeping soundly, still alive, because I could hear her calm breathing.
I had just walked into Scotty’s room when I heard true, distinct footsteps downstairs.
This time I knew it wasn’t my imagination. Because I realized that I wouldn’t actually have heard footsteps upstairs because the carpeting was thick and luxurious and the kids were always getting out of bed and sneaking up on me. (It would have been helpful had I remembered that earlier.)
But the footsteps downstairs were on hard wood. They were real.
“Elyse? We’re home!” Mr. and Mrs. F had come home.
And there I stood in their son’s bedroom, with a shovel in my hand.
Trust me, it’s scary at night. Alone. While reading In Cold Blood. (Google Image)
Tuesday evening, just before 7, a huge tree fell half a mile from where I once lived. A man, who seconds before had been simply sitting in traffic, died when the tree crashed down on him as he sat in his car. It was a tragedy that could happen to any one at any time. Unexpected.
Photo Fairfax Police courtesy of The Washington Post
What happened next? Well, the tree’s twin across the way was cut down. Arborists are looking at nearby old, big trees, checking their health, determining if these trees, too, are dangerous. If so, they will be cut.
Of course that’s what they’re doing.
They are protecting human life. It’s the logical next step following such a tragedy. Of course, there will be traffic snarls and hassles as the old diseased trees are culled. It will be a huge pain for commuters. But, you know, that’s OK. I and just about everybody accepts a bit of inconvenience if it means that someone else won’t die. (Which doesn’t mean we won’t all grumble, natch.)
It’s the same with other stuff, too.
In the 60s and 70s, it became clear that fatalities in automobile accidents could be prevented by using seat belts. They became mandatory after a series of Swedish studies demonstrated that fatalities were dramatically reduced when car occupants involved in an accident had buckled up. Seat belts protect folks. Last year in this post I provided some statistics on the benefits of seat belts:
The National Highway Traffic Safety Administration’s latest statistics state that 15,147 Americans survived accidents in 2007 that would have been fatal without seat belts. That’s a lot of people saved by a law that doesn’t really inconvenience us all that much.
We do a lot of things to keep ourselves and our families safe. Of course we do. And when the danger comes from the unknown? Well, that’s when we ratchet up our actions to protect ourselves. It’s common sense.
Remember the Tylenol Murders? Twenty years ago, Tylenol, laced with cyanide, killed seven people in the Chicago area. The murders were never solved. But they did change our lives. Every time I struggle to open a package of virtually anything purchased in the United States, I think of that bastard, those murders. I hope he/she has a horrible case of rheumatoid arthritis in his/her hands and therefore has even more trouble opening those damn packages than the rest of us. I also hope they catch him/her.
It’s common sense to react protectively, isn’t it. It’s what we do as a species. It’s part of our evolutionary trajectory. It is the manifestation of the problem solver in all of us. Stay alive. Protect. Survive.
Well, that’s usually true.
Unless, of course, there is a random lunatic with a gun. Then, well, logic and common sense are suspended as we all enter the Twilight Zone.
Yes, when a guy (and they do all seem to be guys) who gets a bunch of guns (as in lethal weapons) and kills people, randomly, or by specifically targeting individuals, well then we double down on the 2nd Amendment. WE PROTECT HIS RIGHT TO DO IT! We let it happen again. And then, when it happens again, we are shocked, shocked.
Yup, when we should be shouting “STOP THIS MADNESS!” we instead cow-tow to the National Rifle Association and to the cowboys who are oh-so-sure that if they had only been there with their gun, well, then the outcome would be way different. If only ….
Bullshit. It is a fantasy.
Remember when Congresswoman Gabby Giffords was shot? Nineteen people were shot that day at a local grocery story when a crazy person opened fire.
Did you know that seconds/minutes after the shooting, a man carrying his own gun came out of the store and saw somebody holding a gun on a man? Yeah, it’s true. Here’s a smidge of the story:
[Joe] Zamudio was in a nearby drug store when the shooting began, and he was armed. He ran to the scene and helped subdue the killer. Television interviewers are celebrating his courage, and pro-gun blogs are touting his equipment. “Bystander Says Carrying Gun Prompted Him to Help,” says the headline in the Wall Street Journal.
But before we embrace Zamudio’s brave intervention as proof of the value of being armed, let’s hear the whole story. “I came out of that store, I clicked the safety off, and I was ready,” he explained on Fox and Friends. “I had my hand on my gun. I had it in my jacket pocket here. And I came around the corner like this.” Zamudio demonstrated how his shooting hand was wrapped around the weapon, poised to draw and fire. As he rounded the corner, he saw a man holding a gun. “And that’s who I at first thought was the shooter,” Zamudio recalled. “I told him to ‘Drop it, drop it!'”
But the man with the gun wasn’t the shooter. He had wrested the gun away from the shooter. “Had you shot that guy, it would have been a big, fat mess,” the interviewer pointed out.
Yeah. A big, fat mess. Mr. Zamudi would have added to the carnage, not helped. BECAUSE HE DIDN’T KNOW WHAT WAS GOING ON.
When a tragedy like today’s shooting in Aurora, Colorado, happens, there is only one person who knows pretty much what’s happening – the shooter. Yeah, the bad guy. Everybody else is reacting.
And no matter how cool, how brave, how well meaning a would be hero is in a situation, the sane gun owner is unlikely to shoot first. And if he/she doesn’t, the bad guy will. And unlike in the movies, in real life, you can’t just get back up.
It is really time that we all just accept the passing of the Cowboy Era. We have accepted other similar passings: The Middle Ages, The Age of Kings, The Age of Exploration. The Teen Years. Besides, the last gunfight at the OK Corral happened already. You missed it. Get over it. Move on.
How many more massacres are we going to allow before we stop folks from buying assault weapons, multiple guns that can kill multiple people? How many more deaths will it take?
We changed how every item we use every single day is packaged. Because of SEVEN deaths from tainted Tylenol. We took action to prevent the eighth and the eighth didn’t happen.
What’s the death toll from these random acts of violence with guns? At last count, it was, ummm, more than twelve. And that’s just for today.
What will it take for us to come to our senses?
Mr. Saturday night special
Got a barrel that’s blue and cold Ain’t no good for nothin’ But put a man six feet in a hole
Someday, you guys will be considered pioneers. The first know-it-alls. The first to proclaim to the world that I am a sentient being. (Or is it that I am a “senting” being in the sense that I can smell a rat? Or maybe that I am a dog. Whatever.) You all will be among the first to realize that I am a genius.
Everyone else had forgotten her. Put her out of their minds as she stayed strangely silent. Unusually speechless. Not at all noteworthy. Or, perhaps she was just that tree that falls in the woods that nobody heard.
Huh?
She’s back ….
Google Image
Yup, Michele Bachmann is in the news again — saying inappropriate things about other people.
In the last couple of days, she’s said stuff that’s even gotten Speaker John Boehner, among others, trying to distance himself from her craziness.
Here’s a smidge of a write up from the SCTimes (that’s the St. Cloud Minnesota paper for those of you who aren’t up on all your acronyms):
Rep. Michele Bachmann had made fresh allegations of ties between an Islamist movement and Rep. Keith Ellison, even as Bachmann’s fellow Republicans increasingly condemn her calls to investigate the movement’s influence within the U.S. government.
In an interview with radio host Glenn Beck today, Bachmann said Ellison, the first Muslim elected to Congress, “has a long record of being associated with … the Muslim Brotherhood.”
This was, of course, after Michele also claimed that Secretary of State Hilary Clinton’s deputy chief of staff, Huma Abedin, was an infiltrator of the Muslim Brotherhood.
Does she have proof? Of course not. She doesn’t need proof. She has faith!
But those meanies who are criticizing Michele, well, they don’t understand her like I do. Those folks, like so many others, were not followers of FiftyFourAndAHalf back when I explained Michele’s problem to the world. So they just don’t know Michele’s secret. They don’t understand her the way I understand her. And the way you understand her if you were one of the three people who had actually read my blog one year ago, when I explained just what happens to Michele Bachmann sometimes.
Sigh.
So here it is again. There are of course some differences between now and then. But please — don’t make me repeat this next summer.
From July 21, 2011 — I give you the explanation you’ve been waiting for.
TWINSIES
Me and Michele Bachmann are twinsies! And gosh I’m excited to tell you about it. Especially since I just learned it was true! We share something truly special. It’s the big story in today’s news!
Well, there are the regular, ordinary things we have in common. We’re both women, we’re both interested in politics, and we both love to pledge allegiance to the flag! What could be more fun at a slumber party? What’s more, we both believe in and even PRACTICE marriage. I would bet the interest on the national debt, though, that my husband isn’t gay. Now that we’ve all met Michele’s, I don’t think many folks would bet that hers isn’t. So she has lots of time for sleep-overs.
Anyway, the thing we both have most in common are migraines! Did you read about hers? Well I get them too! And I can tell that they affect us both the same way. So we all need to feel really bad that we’ve been so hard on her. I know I do. Because this diagnosis answers a lot of questions for me.
You see, when I get a migraine, I don’t hide in the dark under a pillow. I don’t cringe in agony. I don’t stay home from work, shirking all my responsibilities, waiting for time and pain to pass.
Nope. I get stupid.
I wish I got “dumb” as in “mute.” Then I wouldn’t look so, well, dumb. But I don’t. I talk even though I develop a really-not-funny-and-don’t-you-dare-laugh-at-melinguistic problem. It’s called transient aphasia, and sometimes it comes instead of the headache. The wrong word comes out of my mouth. And the word that comes out isn’t even close to the one I meant to say.
For example, sometimes I tell my friends that I have a “microwave” when I’m trying to say I have a “migraine.” They get confused.
Clearly, my new twinsie, Michele, has aphasia, too. And since we share migraine symptoms — we’ll be BFFs!
Think about it – it must be true. There are so many examples! Like when she said that the first shot in the Revolutionary War was fired in “New Hampshire”? She clearly knew that it was fired in Taxachussetts – she just had a migraine! And you thought she was dumb.
Or when she was naming Founding Fathers, she knew that she wanted to just say “John Adams” but “Quincy” just jumped right there in the middle. So everybody thought that she thought that John Quincy Adams was a Founding Father. Of course she knew he was still a mere lad at the time of the Revolution, she just couldn’t say it right. And you thought she didn’t know the names of the Founding Fathers.
And when she said that those same Founding Fathers fought tirelessly against slavery.
Clearly, she gets migraines like mine a lot.
Poor Michele. Not everybody understands her. Not everybody believes her. Not everybody stops up their mouths to keep from laughing aloud when she speaks.
But I do. Well, I do now.
So here is my pledge. If my new BFF, Michele Bachmann, becomes President, I promise to have lots of sleep-overs at her house. That way I’ll be sure to be with her when she acts all Commander-In-Chief-y, and needs to order the troops during a nuclear confrontation. And when she needs to say
You probably won’t be surprised to know that I am enjoying the news these past few days. Some of it anyway. I am fascinated by Mitt Romney’s tenure at Bain Capital. I may even start to watch business news, CNBC. And pick up a copy of the Wall Street Journal.
Nah.
But tonight I tuned in to find out the scoop. The latest. The Dirt. And I heard a lot.
Mostly, the sound I heard was me screaming, though. Because in one of those efforts to present “both sides of the story,” MSNBC interviewed David Corn, the reporter who broke Mitt’s “When did he leave Bain Capital, and when did he know it” story. But, to keep the semblance of balance between the two sides, they also interviewed a total DWEEBE Republican by the name of Rick Tyler.
Rick worked for Newt Gingrich and was involved in Newt’s opposition research which took on Mitt’s record as head of Bain Capital. Now? Well, Rick has his talking points, and he’s going through them. On national TV. Whether he really understands them or not. And whether or not he can even read them correctly. Sadly, I got the distinct impression that there is quite a bit that Rick doesn’t understand. [We can start with the fact that during the GOP primaries he worked for a guy that everybody hated and hadn’t a snowball’s chance to win the nomination.]
OK, my problem? Rick kept insisting that all this talk about Bain Capital is:
“A lot to doabout nothing.”
He said it with an air of intellectual superiority, as if he knew something that we did not.
Ummmm. He did not. He did not even know what we all know to be the correct name of that there Shakespeare play.
Remember, this guy is a Republican spokesman. Shouldn’t speaking be kinda his thing? By definition, shouldn’t he be able to quote from the Bible, from Machiavelli, from Shakespeare? Isn’t that what spokespeople do?
Now, I like to give folks the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps Rick misspoke. Nope. Because he said it repeatedly.
Here’s the link to the segment: #48179609 [Sorry, no YouTube. This is the link to the piece — the offending language appears about 5 mins into the story.]
After the third time he announced that, for the world to pay attention to the whole Bain Capital “when did I leave and when did I know I was gone” thing was, “a lot to do about nothing,” well, the only thing I could hear was the sound of myself screaming at the TV. Sorry. Stupidity makes me shout.
At this moment in time, I don’t know what this Bain Capital story will amount to. Personally, I think it is very serious, because no matter which way you look at it, you really can’t say that it is “Much Ado About Nothing.” One way or another, Mitt Romney lied. Either he left in 1999 and lied to the State of Massachusetts about his residency when he was running for governor, or he left in 2002 and lied about the fact that he wasn’t in charge when all those nasty layoffs happened.
According to my mother, lies come back and bite you in the butt.
Maybe this time, even if you’re a Republican, those teeth are going to hurt.
FiftyFourandAHalf 