Hoplophobia: n. a morbid fear of weapons (Col. Jeff Cooper)

Here’s an example:

Growing up, my greatest fear was dying in a school shooting. I still remember: Two boys in black walking into my classroom, one of them holding a stapler at a right angle. I saw the matte black. My mind read: gun. I panicked. I grabbed the arm of the student next to me. “What?” he asked, startled. I started shaking and laughing and breathing and sweating. The boys were only stopping in to see if my math teacher had any extra staples. They were not there to kill us, me first in the front row.

As long as guns exist, I don’t have a chance of saving the world. I feel useless against daily tragedy, against assault rifles and bullets. Here is something humiliating: I am afraid to write all this. Some people love guns. I do not love guns. I wish fewer people owned guns. Often, I wish no one owned guns. I realize many people will disagree with me, and I do not want someone who loves guns to hurt me.

What pathetic hubris!  “As long as guns exist, I don’t have a chance of saving the world.”  You sure your shoulders are strong enough for that load? 

And sweetheart? Let Mr. Spock soothe your fears:

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I do not have answers. I do not know which kinds of guns should be allowed and what types of background checks are most effective.

(And on a very personal note: I deal with mental illness every day….

This is my shocked face.

I visited the author’s Twitter feed. I found that she had re-tweeted one by Matt Taibbi:

That prompted me to write my fourth Tweet ever:

This is what we’re up against, folks.  Magical thinking and mental illness.

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