
I’ve been getting tweet after crazed tweet from gun zealots who are insisting that I shouldn’t live in Chicago (which I don’t) because their gun ban just plain old failed, and since I’m not a gun owner, I’d have no way to defend my defenseless little self.
Handguns are great! Handguns are essential! Handguns are what keep us safe, they keep tweeting me! How dare I suggest otherwise!
Actually I didn’t. I referred only to military-style weapons and large capacity magazines, but who’s counting?
But since they insist…
In 2009 prior to the handgun ban being lifted, per the Chicago police department:
Them’s the stats, folks.
In 2010, the U.S. Supreme Court overturned Chicago’s 28-year-old handgun ban. After the ban was lifted, in 2012 alone there were 516 gun-related deaths, per The Washington Times:
Chicago ended 2012 with a bang — an astonishing 516 gun-related deaths in one year.
In the first week of 2013, Chicago had already outpaced 2012’s gun deaths with 12 homicides.
I’d like to share what one of our Commenters wrote (in part) in response to one of my posts and a few of my own tongue-in-cheek comments that he seemed to take literally:
You are obviously not a reasonable adult, merely a child with the appearance of grown woman. You have probably never held a weapon let alone had to use one to defend yourself.
Real women hold guns. Got it.
One of my Twitter followers, @4dogsplus1, responded with:
So Annie Oakley was more of a woman then say, Golda Meir?
Bright side: Always fun when “real women” can be defined in terms just as assholishly macho as “real men”!
And finally, @MegTee tweeted:
I have held & fired a gun. I’m “grown up” & still for gun control. Their reasoning is non existent.
H/t: @KingDavidLane for all the links and stats.
Today’s guest post by the one, the only, Will Durst:
ODE 2 2012
And so we bid a not- so- fond farewell to the bow of another large unwieldy year as it sinks slowly over the horizon wobbling unsteadily towards the graveyard of memory. And cheers erupt from we folks on shore waving the double- handed “L for loser” sign above our heads. “So long. See ya. Don’t let the door slam you in the butt on the way out. And if you got any brothers or sisters, don’t give them this address.”
Normally there’s some small sense of nostalgia for a departing annum. An iota of regret for the calendar discarded. Not this one. Getting through the past 12 months was like navigating a Black Diamond ski run in roller skates with the wheels rusted shut. While wearing a crib. It was an oil soaked pelican of years. The Year of Living Stupidly. Had the same connection to constructive change that Vladimir Putin has to the editorial board of Crochet Monthly. The Chinese need a new Zodiac sign: Year of the Flatulent Weasel.
But in the interest of keeping this particular piece of puffery positive it might be best if we confine our remarks to reflecting on the good that emerged from 2012.
Okay. Well, that was quick. Wait- got one: at least the presidential election is over. Of course people are already running for 2016, so we got that to look forward to. Which is real similar to looking forward to having five- year twins playing in the back seat of a cross- country drive with a new set of drums and an unlimited supply of metallic sticks. And tambourines. Tons of tambourines. For four years.
You’d think even your average run- of- the- mill politician would possess the simple common human decency to wait till the current President was re- inaugurated, but nooo. These early birds are intent on stockpiling worms. You know what they say: Early money is like yeast. And very early money is like baking soda. And extremely early money is an egg wash brushed delicately across a pan full of hot cross buns.
When you think about it, the only thing that really went right with 2012 was we misread the Mayan Calendar. Everything else is either worse than we found it or the same. Middle East a mess? Check. Crazy people with guns? Check. Weather getting weird? Check. Congress unable to accomplish any sort of worthwhile task, including differentiating between their gluteus maximus and yellow paint? Double check.
Face it. These days, simple survival has become the goal. Continuing existence is the new victory dance. And then for a half a second you ruminate on how good we got it here. What kind of state the rest of the world is in. And most of our problems just kind of fade away, don’t they?
Sure, with great potential comes great responsibility. But it’s an exciting time. 15 years ago, the only people with GPS units were NASA. Now we got them in our cars and phones. We’re also in the middle of a cheeseburger renaissance and pretty good coffee is available almost everywhere. Not half bad perks. So, what do you say? Shall we give another a year a shot? But just 365 this time around. Don’t know about you but that extra day this year kicked my butt.
5 time Emmy- nominee Will Durst’s new e- book “Elect to Laugh!” published by Hyperink, now available at Redroom.com, Amazon or any fine virtual book retailer near you. And don’t forget the Twentieth Annual Big Fat Year End Kiss Off Comedy Show. Through Jan 1. 6 comics. 2,000 laughs. Details at willdurst.com or Facebook.
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