Sometimes I am so afraid.
Since Newtown, I’ve been afraid — as I suspect we all have despite our anarchic bravado — of what the hoplophobes and control freaks will try to do to us with the deeds of one hopped-up wacko as their excuse.
I’m not afraid of DiFi’s proposed “assault weapon” ban. Oh, don’t mistake me; I hate it, despise it, loathe it, and have many unspeakable thoughts about it. But I don’t fear it. It probably won’t pass. And as we know even better than the banners, even if it did, it’s all about cosmetics. We’d be losing rights but only scraps of fuctionality.
The thing I most fear is a ban on private sales.
Nothing would stop private sales, of course. It’s just that every private sale could be a threat of 10 years in prison. And we’d learn to distrust people who ought to be our peaceable trading partners: “Is this one an agent provocateur?” “Will that one snitch if they put pressure on him?”
A private-sale ban is even more fearsome because the NRA and the R-Party will go for that one, and the most gun-hating people in Congress (Lautenberg and McCarthy) are already customizing bills to give their alleged opponents something to “compromise” on.
Some FFLs will even be in favor or it because they’ll think it’s a way to use government against the competition. Or force more of us to bring them transfer and background check business.
It’ll be only a closing of the true “gun-show loophole” at first. You and I will still be able to sell our possessions privately to our neighbors and friends. The NRA will tell us what a “reasonable” compromise they helped achieve and oh by the way, send Your Great Protectors another contribution.
But when tightening the screws on gun shows doesn’t halt violent crime — and it won’t — then … well, you know.
But of course, a lot of us are not going to fall for any of this. We’ve already made up our minds not to cooperate because government must never be allowed to know where all the guns are. They must never be allowed to know.
Because once they know, the fuzzy line we’ve all argued about for years is fuzzy no more: we will have crossed from being free people to being serfs. Not to mention easy victims.
And that’s why a private sale ban is so much worse than losing the easy ability to have “a shoulder thing that goes up.” Because there will be some compliance. Too much of it. And there will be grand non-compliance.
So sometimes I am very afraid. Not that DiFi and Carolyn McCarthy will come marching door-to-door to pull our “liberty’s teeth.” (I’d love to see them try; and let them bring Chuckie Schumer, Josh Sugarman, Frank Lautenberg, and Barack Obama along for the task.)
But afraid of living in a war zone. Maybe not all-out war; I’d be surprised to see that in my lifetime (thank heaven). But something like the gang wars of Prohibition at least — the fedgov being the biggest gang. Sporadic violence; but always the threat. Never the sound sleep at night.
I can see secession, too. A wall of Rocky Mountain west states rises between east and left coasts. Eastern Washington and Oregon join Idaho rather than go on living under Puget or Portlandia rules.
That part’s a little exciting. No, a lot exciting. But still … too “interesting” in the Chinese-curse sense to wish for. You know what’s going to happen when DC, New York, and Massachusetts declare war on Wyoming and Idaho.
I wish these people who are so eager to have their agents control us would just quit poking the sleeping rattlesnake with a stick. The rattler won’t hurt you if you leave it the heck alone. Because they won’t leave it alone — and because I really don’t think they understand the power they’re so eager to let loose (and I mean the power on both sides — their government’s power to do evil and Americans’ power to stand when standing is undeniably needed) — I am so afraid.
But now is not the time to be afraid.
To be continued …