Libs? turned PRO gun, fast too

Discussion in 'General Discussion' started by Marlin T, Mar 8, 2007.

  1. Marlin T

    Marlin T Well-Known Member

    Jul 8, 2005
    New Mexico
    I thought this was a great story of how bad things can happen real fast.

    My Hollywood Gun: The Gauntlet
    By Robert Avrech, SERAPHIC PRESS

    "Attack, always attack."
    My friend, an Israeli tank commander, told me that in the first few days of the Yom Kippur War, both fronts were so weakly defended that had the Egyptian or Syrian high command been strategically bolder, tactically smarter, their soldiers braver, their armies could have achieved massive breakthroughs, and Israel would have found herself in dire straits.
    But small, actually tiny pockets, of brave, determined and very well trained Israeli troops, in some cases, just two or three tanks on the Golan, held their ground and attacked enemy forces sometimes a hundred times their strength.
    "We had no orders except to hold our ground and whenever possible to attack -- always attack."
    All this whips through my mind as I aim our car -- I'm already thinking of the Lexus as a tank, a Centurion -- towards the exit of the parking garage. A knot of rioters are milling about at the exit. It's hard to tell, but oh boy, looks like a few of them are holding baseball bats.
    I'm gonna make a wild guess and assume that they're not little league dads.
    I haven't turned on the headlights. We're lurking in the shadows, not yet detected by the barbarians. Good thing the car is fashionably black.
    Karen says: "Maybe there's another exit."
    "No. This is it."
    "How do you know?"
    "I've been in this building before."
    "What are we going to do?"
    The Talmud says that when a husband or wife uses the collective "we" it means there is love in the relationship.
    Is there a better way to enter battle?
    Ariel ZT'L says: "I have to pee."
    Offspring #2 doubles over with an uncontrollable fit of the giggles. She finds this absolutely hysterical.

    "You're going to have to hold it in for a while, Ariel, do you think you can do that?" Karen says.

    "I guess."

    "Good boy."
    Karen and I exchange glances. Karen gives me a pale smile of encouragement.
    "I just have to say it."


    "Buckle your seatbelts, it's going to be a bumpy ride."

    Karen inclines her head, questioning.

    "Bette Davis, All About Eve, 1950, written and directed by the great Joseph L. Mankiewicz."

    "Robert, Robert," Karen sighs, and smiles tolerantly but with affection.
    In the back seat, the giggles from Offspring #2 increase tenfold.
    I inch the car forward, gain speed, 5 mph, 10 mph, and now I switch on the headlights using, surprise, the Hi-Beams, drenching the criminals in white light, and then, I lean on the horn.
    -- the rioters are blinded by the powerful lights (those Japanese really switch it on, G-d bless 'em) and the shrieking horn is made even worse by the echo of the concrete garage walls. The rioters are blinded like animals, frozen as I bear down on them, coming at what seems like Formula One speed, they fall back like bowling pins, hurling obscenities, and --
    -- and we blow right past them, make a sharp left turn--we're ordered by a street sign to turn right--but that would deliver us to the front of the theater and directly into the eye of the mob, and so tires screeching--hey, just like in the movies I write--we race away from the theater.
    I heave a great sigh, realize I have not taken a breath in, gee, in a long time.
    I drive for a few blocks, and then pull over, and take a series a deep breaths.
    "What's wrong?" Karen asks.


    My heart is slamming so hard in my chest it sounds and feels like a Ginger Baker solo.
    Karen switches on her little flashlight, studies the Thomas Guide. She maps out a route home for us.
    "I think we should stick to the big streets, it'll probably be safer." Karen says.

    "You navigate. I'll pilot."

    "Let's move. Staying still can't be safe." Karen cautions.

    I have to tell you, I feel like Karen and I should be communicating like this:
    Bravo 2 to Bravo 1, do you have the proper coordinates? Over.

    Crackle, crackle.

    Bravo 1, this is Bravo 1, Yes, I can confirm those coordinates. Do you copy? Over.

    Crackle, crackle.

    Bravo 2, copy. Heading into Indian territory, better lock and load, over.

    Crackle, crackle.

    Bravo 1, lock and load, for Ma and the flag, we're gonna put the chill on those hostiles, over.
    Anyway: As we cruise through the streets there are fires burning in almost every neighborhood. The city feels like a forest under a siege of flames.
    Small businesses are being deliberately torched.
    Orange streaks of fire inscribe themslves against the velvety sky. It takes me a moment to recognize the distinctive signature of Molotov cocktails.
    "Where is the Fire Department?" Karen asks.
    Looters help themselves to everything from television sets and stereos to diapers and liquor.
    Every so often we hear the distinctive flat crack of gun fire.
    But nowhere do we see any police.
    Turning down a street, Karen calls out: "Nooooo!"
    Twenty yards are separating us from a group of thugs who are milling about, looking for trouble. They spot us. Dead eyes study us. All wicked and street savvy, they shuffle in our direction. Call me crazy, but I have a sneaking suspicion they're not about to discuss Daf Yomi.
    "Let's get out of here," Karen says.
    Who am I to disagree with the love of my life?
    I shift into reverse. Back up a few feet. Then shift into drive, angling for a U turn, but there's not enough room in the narrow street.
    The locals are getting awfully close.
    I'm pretty sure I just glimpsed a Tec 9.
    And I've got a Swiss Army Knife.
    Oh boy.
    "Hurry," says Karen.
    And so I just drive right up on the sidewalk, down the sidewalk, and we're away.
    "Nice," says Karen.
    Affectionately, she touches my shoulder. To this very day I can stilll feel the cool imprint of her palm. It's her way of saying, "My hero."
    Or at least that's what I tell myself.
    "I really, really, really have to pee," Ariel urgently reminds us.
    I hand him an empty styrofoam coffee cup.
    It takes us forty-five minutes to get home. Normally this drive would take us maybe fifteen minutes, but we have to circle round and double-back countless times in order to avoid fires, and rioters, and unknown streets that, for one reason or another, Karen declares: "We'll never get out of alive."
    Listening to the radio we finally hear about the Rodney King verdict. We are informed that the Fire Department is not being deployed because their men have come under intense gun fire.
    We have learned that the Los Angeles Police Department has been "pulled back for their own safety."
    I thought that was part of the job description.
    Casa Avrech: I carry Offspring # 2 to her bed where she recites the She'ma and then falls asleep without even donning her pajamas. We tell Ariel how proud of him we are. He shrugs. No big deal. We look in on him five minutes later and he's fast asleep.
    Karen, crisp and efficient, pins a black sheet over the large picture window in the living room. We cannot be too careful. I search the house for a weapon, settle on an old ice ax from my mountain climbing days.
    On the TV, Karen and I watch as Reginald Denny gets his brains bashed in; we watch as the barbarians dance over his broken body. We watch as, G-d bless them, others rescue the tragic Denny.
    There's video of Fidel Lopez, a Guatemalan immigrant, he, like Denny is pulled from his truck and robbed. They smash his head open, and slice his ear off. The mob grafittis his chest, torso and genitals.
    Between 56 and 50 people were murdered in the riots, 2,000 people were injured, over several days, as the police were finally deployed, approximately 10,000 arrests were made. Estimates of between 800 million and a billion dollars of property damage have been reported. Approximately 3,600 fires were set, destroying 1,100 buildings.
    Korean shopkeepers were specifically targeted by black rioters. But the Koreans owned guns, and heroically defended their property and lives through force of arms. It was a lesson that should have reverberated nationally, but some commentators took to calling the Koreans, vigilantes. Just another case of the mainstream media getting it wrong.
    And then, of course, the race hustlers, Jesse Jackson, Al Sharpton, the usual suspects, parade across our TV screens informing the good citizens of Los Angeles that the riots were really "an uprising."
    Oh really?
    As in: The Warsaw Ghetto Uprising?
    "After this is all over," I say to Karen, "I'm going to do is go out, and buy a pistol."

    Karen says: How about a shotgun?"
    If the Los Angeles riots taught us anything it's that you're a fool if you count on the authorities to protect you in times of civil unrest -- in fact, at any time. In the end, only I can protect me and my family.
    I'm never, ever going to allow myself to be outgunned by the bad guys. All the gun laws that are on the books, and there are thousands of them, just make it that much easier for the barbarians to amass weapons, and for good and law-abiding people like you and me to be at their mercy.
    If you outlaw weapons, as so many squishy liberals yearn to do, well then, only the outlaws will possess weapons.
    One week after the riots I legally purchased my first pistol: My Hollywood Gun. I joined the NRA, took their excellent Gun Safety Classes, and recommend such a course of action for everybody who believes in personal responsibility.

    Alright I'll have to admit that the title of this thread is misleading, but what can I say;)
  2. Nighthawk

    Nighthawk New Member

    Aug 22, 2006
    South Central Texas
    at least their education didn't cost them their lives and they were able to put it to use. there have been a lot of these ed courses over last few years and very few seem to learn or if they do they seem forget in a short time. I just wonder how big of a lesson it's going to take to wake people up. danger flags are flying don't ignore.
  3. rosierita

    rosierita Active Member

    Mar 13, 2004
    South Carolina
    well, i'm not a liberal & i was born pro gun :)D ) but if i were a liberal & i were anti gun, THAT would NOT be what i'd want to go thru to change my mind!;)
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