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THE STORY OF THE MONTH"What a Card(-Carrying Member)!" or "Wayne, We Hardly Knew Ya" by Mike Magnum December 2002 Hey Folks, I hope everyone had a good time feeding turkey to the extended family. Ya know, nothing quite says "I love you" like a big, overcooked, dry-tasting, sleep-inducing, amino-acid-filled dead bird. Me, I'm more of a honey-roasted, precut, dead pig kind of guy. Turkey is boring, like Uncle Smelly (an unfortunately appropriate moniker my kids gave him, which we don't use to his face, especially while having to cover ours). Speaking of family, remember that piece I wrote about giving up my card in the NRA family? Well, it prompted a few of our more enlightened (or is that BudLitened?) readers to point out other examples of our overzealous government using the NRA to further their own nefarious goals. Don't say, "Don't tell me 'I told you so,'" because we told you (see commentary), but it seems the cops in Dallas have figured out the NRA-Member-equals-Gun-Owner connection and have been using routine traffic stops to stick their snouts in stuff they should leave well alone. While the courts said a NRA sticker couldn't be used as a reason to search a vehicle, don't think those coppers won't find another reason to dig around your dualie once that red, black and gold emblem sees the bright end of a shiny black flashlight. Cops aren't dumb, so don't give them a reason to think you're packing -- scratch your bumper clean. And it's not just the NRA list we have to worry about, as one reader whispered to me in all CAPS. When John "Dr. Evil" Poindexter's Total Information Awareness computer scans the concealed weapons registration list in your home state, that call you get won't be for cheap tix on virus-laden Disney cruise ships. No sirree, they're coming for your gun. See, it's the law-abiding folks out there, who dutifully register their piece with the local yokels, that have to watch their back. These G.W.Bush-league folks are overstepping their court-appointed roles and will no doubt use that same dang list, cross-checked against the DC-based (well, Virginia, but it's the same thing) NRA membership list, to single you out as a vocal supporter of our second amendment right to shoot things (and people, if they get in the way of the things we're shooting). And it won't matter if Johnny-Boy stops the NICS searches if Bush and Poindexter have your gun store credit card purchases. So say sayonara to that concealed weapon registration card. Tear it up, stomp on it, and put in a pipe and smoke it. Then call your local government headquarters and ask to be removed from the list. Additionally -- and this pains me to say it -- you gotta dump that hunting license like an out-of-season doe when the game warden is hot on your trail. While not as conspicuous as fresh blood stains, Yosemite Sam mudflaps, or "Crazy Gun Owner" scribbled in red ink on a post-it note stuck to your forehead (trust me, I've seen it all), that hunting license is a dead giveaway that you use guns (unless it's bow or trapping season, but that's another column). The truth is, what do you need a hunting license for anyway? The birds/squirrels/deer you fill full of buck and pellet don't ask for ID when you drop 'em to the dirt. Next thing you know we'll have to tell the secret service every time we smack a rat with a shovel. So, in light of all this potential misuse of our personal information, here's what I'm suggesting: get unregistered. Dump every connection that hooks you with John "I've Sold My Soul to Big Gov't" Ashcroft and his extwemewy wight-weaning wascally weepublicans. Once you're free of all that, try not to fit any "profiles." Despite what they say, officers use -- however right, wrong or unfortunate it may be -- their "sizing up" abilities to determine how dangerous you might be. A good way to be "sized up" as a good citizen is to disassociate yourself from those linked to brazen and reckless gun ownership. That means you need to abandon items, styles and attitudes that run hand-in-hand with the brazen and reckless types, like a wallet on a chain, a gun rack in the back window, and an unkempt mullet (business in the front *and* business in the back says a lot about your relationship with guns). Finally, if you do get caught doing something stupid with your weapon, you might as well call the ACLU (NRA puppy Bob Barr did), because don't think for a minute that 'ole Wayne LaPierre is looking out for your backside. No sirree, not without a wallet full of $1000 bills. It seems that Waynerd has become one of "them." You know, one of the rich folk, all prettied up in his ivory stinking tower, prattling on with the hoity-toity of upper Washington circles, raising his pinky when he daintily grasps his silver soup spoon. I know you're thinking, "Why you want to say nasty things about Mr. Wayne?" Well, because we just found out that La-La-LaPierre takes down a cool $400,000 dollars a year in NRA salary. Can you believe it? Let me repeat that number a little louder. FOUR HUNDRED THOUSAND DOLLARS A YEAR! That's ten of my annual salary. And where does he get all that pretty money? From your NRA dues-giving pocket, that's where. But, don't believe me, read it for yourself. This bit of info was the nail in the coffin of my love for the NRA. I don't know about you folks, but I'm lucky enough to have fifty cents left at the end of the month, and that's if I don't pay alimony and child support. If you want to subsidize Richie Wayne's champagne and caviar dreams, go ahead. Not me. The NRA has become "Them," and US ain't paying for the lifestyle. Like my father used to say, "Where's there's a will, there's a woman trying to kill you for it." Until next month, - Mike |
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