A mister A. Lighton of Dighton Massachusetts sends a letter to the Boston Globe.
To the man I sat next to on the train: I am the gun owner you hate
…You spoke about the “murderous NRA” and “bloodthirsty gun nuts” who were causing our schools to “run red with blood.” You spoke profanely of the Republicans who opposed President Obama’s call for “sensible gun control,” and you lamented the number of “inbred redneck politicians” who have “infiltrated Capitol Hill.”
The writer reminds us how Steven Seagal would risk his life to save the tittybaby likes of ours.
I found myself amazed at the irony of the situation. While you were spewing your venom, I sat quietly next to you with my National Rifle Association membership card in my wallet and my 9mm pistol in its holster…So, let me say this as plainly as I can:
…isn’t it ironic when somebody says ‘shrimp’, or ‘plate of shrimp’, and then it turns out your neighbor has a .32 caliber crawfish strapped to his leg? Boy, I’ll say.
So, let me say this as plainly as I can: If a bad guy with a gun had decided to walk onto that train and start shooting people, I would have been prepared and able to use my gun to defend my own life and the lives of everyone else on that train, including yours. Although you may hate me, a gun owner, I would risk my life for you.
Picture my face ruddy with tears, then let me say: Thank you A. Lighton. [choke] Thank you for sitting right next to me, armed for combat. [sob] I couldn’t be more put at ease by the likes of you. [dry heave]
Opinions and ideologies make a pretty thin shield against the bullets of a madman. Your liberal self-righteousness and ignorance may have made you feel superior and comfortable, but during that 40-minute train ride to Boston, my gun kept you safe.
That’s right. No American is safe anywhere until A. Lighton sits next to them on the train. That’s the one time when all is well and everything is finally right with the world. Apparently that’s also the time when Mr. Gun Owner is tempted to drop his khaki parachute pants so we can all give him the bleating-sheep blowjob he’s clearly earned.
I am reminded of the tragedy in Las Vegas where the anti-government wingers fresh from the Bundy ranch ambushed two cops in a pizza shop then laid siege to a Walmart. Sensing the gravity of the moment our local NRA hero, Joseph Wilcox, bore down upon bad guy Jerad Miller. Having produced his #2A handgun Joseph drew a shaky bead on Jerad and then
promptly saved everyone’s liberal lives got thoroughly blasted by Jerad’s wife, Amanda, standing behind him. Though there was no reason for Joseph to die right there in an aisle of Walmart that’s what he did, seconds before the two nutter patriots committed suicide.
What does it mean? I’m not sure, but A. Lighton should probably keep a tight grip on that gun.