Opinion: America Is The Greatest Country In The World Because I Have The Freedom To Sleep With A Gun Under My Pillow In Case Someone Tries To Murder Me In My Sleep
With another mass shooting behind us it goes without saying that liberal snowflakes are going to step up their efforts to come for our guns, but I got news for you libtards, you can pry them from my cold dead hands. I don’t know if you are aware, but we have a thing in this country called the Second Amendment and you can read all about it in a little thing called the Constitution. In case you haven’t read it, I can lend you mine. I keep it on my bookshelf next to my copy of Atlas Shrugged and The Turner Diaries. You know, page turners! The framers were quite clear on this subject and they understood full well that it is the sacred liberty of all Americans to be able to sleep with a loaded firearm under their pillow in case someone tries to murder them in their sleep. It’s called freedom!
America is the greatest country in the world because we have the best people in the world. Nevertheless, I live in a constant state of fear that they will murder me in my sleep. As such, I always sleep with a loaded Colt Close Quarter Battle Pistol under my pillow in case some sicko barges into my bedroom in the middle of the night to murder my wife Diane and me. You see it on TV all the time. Just the other night, local news anchor Chuck Plumpton delivered a harrowing story concerning a home invasion in a suburban town not far from where I live. As part of their gang initiation ritual, some MS-13 members from the nearby city picked a house at random, kicked in the door and proceeded to hog tie the entire family before they cut all kinds of holes in them and sucked out the blood. I’ll be damned if I let that happen to my family, which is why I thank the founders for giving me the right to sleep with one eye open every night in a state of unremitting terror at the thought that some thug could break into my home at any moment and murder me in the most grotesque manner imaginable.
Now, I know what you are going to say: “Aren’t you more likely to kill a family member than an intruder?” All I have to say is: spare me the liberal talking points. Handguns are perfectly safe so long as you have the right training, which is why every night I go to the gun range after I drop off Diane at her tennis instructor’s house where she has lessons for about six hours. While she’s with Sebastiano working on her swing, I get to go to the range and practice with some of the best friends money could buy. Not only is target practice fun but learning how to defend my wife makes me feel like a provider. When we get home, Diane is much more relaxed from her tennis lessons with Sebastiano and my hours of target training make me feel more like a man. Everybody’s happy!
As a result of many hours of hard work training at the gun range, I can confidently say that we are safer as a family. As the father of a seven-year-old son, who oddly enough doesn’t look much like me, I would do anything to protect him. Therefore, gun safety comes first. We had a heart-to-heart about guns and I’m not at all concerned that anything can go wrong in our house. Sure, there was one incident where I almost shot him when he came into my bedroom at night asking me to read him a bed time story. In the heat of the moment I brandished my gun at him when I mistook him for a member of MS-13. Other than that, we haven’t had any close calls. Regardless of what you may think, my home is my castle and I will do what I feel is right to keep my home safe. The outside world is another story, however.
You can’t be too careful these days. Although Ronald Reagan ushered in a political revolution that changed America for the better and he undoubtedly will go down as the greatest president of the 20th century, in the last forty years our country’s cities have crumbled. Through no fault of Reagan, America’s urban centers are rife with homeless beggars, drug pushers and crack dens. Indeed, cities today resemble something akin to a Sci-Fi dystopia from a movie like Robocop or Blade Runner (once again this has nothing to do with Reagan). Hell, I won’t even go to the city unless my wife Diane asks me to take her to see the STOMP touring company at the local theater.
When I roll into the once beautiful metropolis which today only the damned call home, you better believe I’m packing. As soon as I leave my pickup truck, I am accosted by urine-soaked vagabonds asking, nay, demanding spare change. “Sir, some food please,” one creep cries at me while Diane is parking the car. “Back off, pal!” I shout as I reach for my 9mm Ruger’s PC Carbine and tactically ascertain the situation. “The question you have to ask yourself is do I feel lucky? Well do ya’ punk?” I say quoting the the great Clint Eastwood. The vagrant scampered away, no doubt to prey on some unarmed civilian. I thought the exchange went pretty well, although it would have been better if I had my 44 Magnum with me, but alas, I lost it.
The founders knew full well what they were doing when they wrote the Second Amendment. They had good reason to keep the population armed. At the time they were concerned about a continued military threat posed by the British Empire, Indian removal and the ever-present specter of slave uprisings- pressing concerns that remain with us to this day. What’s more, they understood the evil of tyranny having just freed themselves from the yoke of King George III.
The founders knew that if one day our government grew too dictatorial (as it nearly did under President Obama) the people needed to remain armed to fight that government. Sure, today the average citizen is totally outgunned since the US government possesses vastly, monumentally, gargantuanly more sophisticated armaments than the pea-shooters we are allowed to carry, but was that not also the case during the revolution? Who can forget when King George detonated ten thermonuclear devices above Valley Forge inspiring paeans to the “nuclear winter soldier” of whom Paine wrote so eloquently. As Jefferson once said “the tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants” today I say “the mutated half-goat/half-tree must be fed from time to time with the irradiated dust of patriots and tyrants”.