On the Question of Rights.

Just to let you know, Dr. Cline emailed me yesterday with the latest update in this ongoing saga. It’s about four and a half pages in Word document form. I’m reading and re-reading and digesting it now. Expect a reply post some time later this week.

I think we’re nearing the end of the discussion. We’re going to reach some accomodation, I think, and agree to disagree on the rest.

For anyone wondering what the hell I’m talking about, read these, in consecutive order. (Fix a BIG bowl of popcorn and your favorite soft drink prior to starting. Hard liquor is only justified when you get to the fifth installment.)

What is a “Right”?


What is a “Right”? Revisited, Part I

What is a “Right”? Revisited, Part II

Rights, Morality, Idealism & Pragmatism, Part I

Rights, Morality, Pragmatism & Idealism, Part II

As before, I’ll post Dr. Cline’s reply and then my response as separate posts, one above the other.

(No, really! It’s fun!)(To a point.)

Will Nebraska Be Next?.

Maybe! The Omaha World-Herald is reporting that State Sen. Jeanne Combs is making a pretty damned good run at it:

Guns a part of life for state senator

BY LESLIE REED
WORLD-HERALD BUREAU

LINCOLN – She has a .38, and she knows how to shoot it.

State Sen. Jeanne Combs believes she can accomplish what three male lawmakers in 10 years before her could not: to persuade the Nebraska Legislature to authorize carrying concealed handguns.

A nurse at the Farmland Foods meatpacking plant in Crete, Combs is a down-home woman with roots in Kentucky and the mill towns of Ohio.

Now 49, she grew up around hunting and often ate squirrel for supper at her Grandma Della Hacker’s home in Kentucky’s Clay County.

She came to believe that people couldn’t count on police for protection after her home was burglarized – twice – while living in Southern California.

Amazing, isn’t it, that exposure to the reality that the government can’t be responsible for one’s safety tends to make one appreciate the right to arms?

She purchased her stainless steel Smith & Wesson revolver when she was a home health-care and hospice nurse in Jackson County, Ky., 11 years ago.

She felt she needed it for protection as she traveled alone, often at night, visiting patients along backroads and in the hollers around Daniel Boone National Forest.

“I never had to use it, I just had it with me,” she said. “It was in my black bag, with my stethoscope and my blood pressure cuff. It was right in the bottom, in a little snap pocket.”

She drove up to 100 miles to visit dying patients and people suffering from injuries or chronic disease. Most qualified for government health assistance and few had indoor plumbing.

“In that culture, everyone has a gun,” she said. “They carry them clipped to their belt, like people around here do a Vise-Grip.”

I think she meant a Leatherman, but you get the idea.

Was she carrying the gun legally? “I don’t know,” she said.

Actually, she wasn’t.

Since moving to Nebraska nine years ago, Combs has stored her gun in a locked box in a closet. She’s no longer in a job where she feels she needs a firearm. Until recently, she hadn’t gotten the pistol out for more than a year.

But if she needed it, Combs said, she’d like to be able to legally stow it in her purse or glove compartment. In Nebraska, she said, it’s not socially acceptable – though it’s legal – to carry a gun in the open.

“I’d be the talk of the town to walk around with a gun on my hip,” she said.

Lawmakers are expected to soon begin debating Combs’ proposal, Legislative Bill 454, perhaps as early as this week.

This weekend, she planned to attend three days of handgun training at Front Sight Resort in Nevada, described on its Web site as the “World’s Premier Resort for Self Defense and Personal Safety Training.”

The training, which normally costs $900, is being provided by the Michigan Legislative Sportsmen’s Foundation. Combs is a member of the Nebraska Sportsmen’s Foundation.

The Front Sight course is accepted for concealed-handgun permits in 23 states. Combs wants to be able to describe, first-hand, the training typically required for obtaining a concealed-weapon permit.

Coverage of THAT would be fascinating! So you can bet no one will.

Combs learned to shoot using her father’s and brother’s guns while growing up in New Miami, Ohio. Her father, a ninth-generation resident of Clay County, Ky., moved to Ohio after World War II to find work. He died when Combs was 14.

Her mother was the daughter of Sicilian immigrants who grew and sold vegetables and plants in Hamilton, Ohio.

After earning a nursing degree from Miami University of Ohio, Combs moved to California with her first husband and young daughter in 1980. She worked as director of nursing for a retirement community.

While living in Riverside, Calif., her housing development became caught up in a turf war between two gangs, she said. On her days off she rode her bike around the neighborhood to cover gang graffiti with spray paint.

Doesn’t that job come with combat pay?

The second time her home was burglarized, she said, police were slow to arrive. A suspect was arrested only because a neighbor got his license plate number. He was sentenced to three years in prison, but court officials warned her he could be released well before that.

You don’t say. And the subtext: “You’ll be on your own, in that case.”

Later she moved to Kentucky, and in 1995 to Friend, Neb., with her second husband, Ronald Combs, whom she recently divorced.

She now lives in Milligan in a home near her mother and stepfather, Shirley and Bill Lewis. They fell in love with Nebraska after attending her 2000 graduation from Concordia University in Seward with a degree in health care administration.

Combs compares her handgun to seat belts or a fire extinguisher.

“You want to be prepared,” she said. “It doesn’t mean you’re living in fear. You want to take a practical approach to living in safety.”

Senator Combs is, of course, a Republican.

Good luck, Ms. Combs. Good luck, Nebraska.

If you want to help, copy and paste the link to the Omaha World-Herald’s front page, http://www.omaha.com, for their current poll question, “Do you agree with a Nebraska state senator’s efforts to authorize the carrying of concealed weapons in the state?” At the time of this writing the poll is running 3124 “Yes,” 1594 “No,” 99 “Undecided,” and 26 “I have no opinion (but I’m willing to click on the survey anyway.)”

UPDATE 4/13: From the Heartland reports that things look good.

Range Report!

I finally got out to the range today. It was a bit windy the last few days here, and I wanted to test my .223 handloads at 300 meters, so I put it off until this morning. Absolutely perfect morning to go shooting. I didn’t have sight settings for 300m, so I stapled up a bunch of sight-in targets and picked the target in the middle. After the first five rounds it was obvious that I was hitting VERY low, so I dialed in a few minutes of elevation, and like a moron I picked a HIGHER target for the second go-around. Five more shots, but I couldn’t see the impact points through my 45x not-so-great quality spotting scope, so I hopped in the truck (I had the 500m range ALL TO MYSELF!) and drove down.

Good news: A beautiful 2″ (4-shot) group! (Best group of the day, as a matter of fact.)

Bad news: Right through the top crossbrace of the target frame. My range charges $1 per hole in the target frame. I know it was a 2″ group because the frame is made of 2×2’s. I figure the fifth shot went just a bit high.

So now I know my sight settings for 300, 385, and 500 meters with that load, (75 grain Hornady BTHP) and it shoots about 1.5-2MOA at 300 meters which is, realistically, about as well as I can see at that range through a 10X scope.

I also took out my freshly restocked 1943-era M1 Garand and my .50 caliber ammo can full of Korean surplus ammo in clips on bandoleers. After a bit of sight tweaking, I was able to consistently drop the steel pig silhouettes with that combo, shooting off sandbags. Iron sights!

After a hundred and fifty rounds of .223 and probably ten or twelve clips or so of .30-06 (it’s so much fun, who’s counting?), it was starting to warm up and get windy, so I shifted down to the Law Enforcement range for a little pistol practice. The new S&W 60-14 I picked up on Saturday is a SHOOTER! This is the first revolver I’ve ever been able to shoot halfway decently double-action. At seven yards I was able to keep all five 125 grain Federal .38 Nyclads in the chest just as fast as I could pull the trigger. I even practiced double-taps and was able to get the two rounds with 2-3″ of each other. I’m quite impressed with this little revolver. The hi-viz fiberoptic front sight is definitely a plus. It’s VERY easy to pick up and makes follow-up shots much faster.

What a great day at the range. I’ve got to do this more often.

Edited to add:

I forgot to mention, I tested out my two free MWG Co. magazines, a 10-rounder and a 5-rounder. Each held the advertised capacity and no more. Each was a bit of a tight fit in the mag well, but I’d imagine they’ll wear in. Each fed properly.

Except the last round. Both mags. Repeatedly. The last round out would jam. I don’t know if the problem is with the follower or what, but I’d be interested to know if anyone else has had this problem with theirs.

One Man’s Misfortune is Another’s Opportunity

I just had a fascinating and thoroughly enjoyable evening. Clayton Cramer noted on his blog that he was going to be in Tucson this weekend to contribute to David T. Hardy’s Second Amendment Documentary. As soon as I saw that, I went to David Hardy’s blog, Of Arms and the Law, and left an invitation to buy these men a beverage of their choice.

Well, Clayton’s flight home today got cancelled due to snow in Denver, so I got to go one better. I had dinner with them both tonight. I also got Clayton to autograph my copy of For The Defense of Themselves and the State: The Original Intent and Judicial Interpretation of the Right to Keep and Bear Arms. For almost two hours we got to discuss a wide variety of topics, including Prof. Saul Cornell, Originalism, Silveira v. Lockyer, 9th Circuit Justice Alex Kozinski, and a lot more. It was GREAT! And I have (bad) photographic evidence, taken with my el-cheapo camera:

That’s David Hardy on the left, Clayton Cramer on the right. (They’re much less blurry in person.)

Thank you, gentlemen. Thank you very much.

Update: Clayton’s home and blogged about his trip.

Oh, and Clayton? The last name is Baker! 😉

BAG Day, 2005 – I Jumped the Gun a Little.

…so to speak. I put off doing my taxes a bit longer than normal, and because of a little complexity I had them done professionally rather than doing it myself this year. So today we went to the accountant and ran all the numbers.

I contributed a bit more to the non-interest-bearing payroll savings plan than I had expected. The refunds, both state and federal, will be substantial.

So, with my wife’s blessing I went out and bought my BAG Day gun. It’s not for my wife. Really. I passed on the beautiful S&W model 25 Mountain Gun in .45LC ($699), and instead went for a 3″ S&W .357 Model 60, used, with adjustable sights and the green Hi-Vis fiberoptic front sight, complete with Hogue monogrip. But it’s not hers. She doesn’t want one.

But when I’m gone on a business trip, this little beauty, filled with five Federal 125 grain .38 Nyclads, will be in the quick-access safe for her.

Edited to add: By request, also using my crappy little camera, a picture of said Model 60:

Anybody from England Want to Weigh in on This?

This is taken, verbatim, from a SomethingAwful forum post. I find it believable, given what else I’ve read is going on over there, but I’d like some first-person commentary on it. If true, the situation is far worse than I thought it was, and if the populace ever grows a pair, there’s literally going to be some blood in the streets.

Yesterday I was in town with a friend. I did some shopping and then I got on a bus to go home. I caught on the 2A, a double-decker, and embarked on a journey that generally lasts about 30-40 minutes. It was pretty busy. I found a seat at the back of the top deck and sat down.

A couple of stops later, four girls boarded the bus and came up to the top deck. I will attempt to use my humble grasp of the written word to convey these girls’ appearance and general attitude as best as I can, but I am making no promises. It was one of those cases where you wish you could record the whole thing because otherwise the story will lack the full impact it needs when you tell it afterwards. This is quite an exciting and dramatic story, however– well, not really, but it is by my standards– so do read on.

Only British people will fully understand me when I explain that these girls could be fitted with no uncertain ease into the social group called ‘chavs’. I consider myself to be a reasonably well-travelled individual for someone of my age and nowhere other than Britain– and only within the past two or three years or so at the most– have I observed these fascinating new breed of people. I also consider myself, or used to consider myself, to be a reasonably fair-minded and unprejudiced kind of guy, which is why it pains me so greatly to feel such a pang of apprehension whenever I spot someone in a baseball cap and designer sportswear approaching me and am almost always rewarded for my hesitation to deal with them with nothing other than sincere mistrust and apprehension. To accept a chav with welcoming arms is usually to invite a fist into your mouth, which quite often happens anyway (as this story will demonstrate). I don’t have it in me to type out a detailed summary of everything that makes a chav a chav, but I will, for the benefit of the uninitiated Americans reading this, explain that they are almost invariably ignorant, aggressive, offensive people and something I consider to be quite an alarming (and growing) social problem in the United Kingdom at the moment. For more (and even less forgiving) details, visit www.chavscum.co.uk.

The girls that got on my bus were in their very early teens– they could have been ten or eleven, even, but no older than fourteen years old. They wore expensive (stolen) sportswear, baseball caps and hoop earrings. They held mobile phones in one hand and packets of cigarettes in the other. They were all scowling. Their arrival was unmissable. They shrieked, screamed, and filled the air with expletives. They fought their way to the back of the bus and I felt my heart sink, because it is at the back of double-decker buses that these people feel most able to violate the anti-smoking laws. I sunk into my seat and read a travel brochure, and listened to them.

They were unbelievable. Unbearable. I’ve never witnessed such screaming obnoxiousness from anyone. They sat around calling each other every name under the fucking sun, rang people up on their phones and had epic domestics with them, accused one another of stealing one another’s’ boyfriends– oh, and, of course, lit up their fucking cigarettes and blew the smoke all over the fucking bus (which is a pet peeve of mine as it is, as a non-smoker). Once again I’d like to stress that I can’t fully convey how incredibly, cosmically vile these four girls were– these weren’t just eye-rollingly irritating, they were offensive, harmful, obnoxious, selfish cunts. And I don’t call people cunts a lot. (Although the girls did.)

After about five minutes of loudly entertaining themselves, they started voicing even louder opinions about the other people on the bus. One of them screamed “Eurgh! Why are there fucking foreigners on my bus?” when a black man and his baby arrived and found a seat. (Incredibly, as we were all attempting to do, he ignored them.) They started discussing someone sitting a few seats in front of me, a man with vaguely long hair, and (still very loudly) debating whether or not “it was a man or a girl”. Eventually one of them said “go up and ask it!”– and they did. They strutted up to the poor bastard’s seat and demanded to know his gender. When he said “I’m a man”, they told him to get his hair cut. This general behaviour continued for several minutes.

What I found most incredible about this situation was everyone else’s reaction to it. Everyone just stared out of the window. There was absolutely no way that any of them could have missed any of this— the girls clearly had hearing difficulties and found it necessary to communicate with one another by shrieking in one others’ faces. I debated for a long time as to whether or not I should risk trying to ask them to shut the fuck up, but couldn’t work up the courage. Eventually, however, someone else got on the bus and restored some semblance of balance to the Force– a guy in a bus company jacket.

Instead of putting their cigarettes out and shutting the hell up, they rose to the challenge. The girls and the bus company dude clearly knew each other from a previous engagement, because they approached him and said “‘Ey, you’re the fuckin’ twat who told us to stop smoking last week!”. He told them yes, and that he’d have them kicked off the bus again if they didn’t quieten down. They didn’t quieten down. They persisted in winding the guy up until finally he snapped, spun around, and started screaming at them in turn.

At this point the Drama level on this bus shot from a 6 to a 9.2. The four girls began pushing and shoving the bus company guy, who was clearly having some difficulty resisting the urge to just pick them up and throw through the window himself. The level of verbal abuse involved here beats anything, I think, I have previously witnessed in my life (and I should once again remind everyone that these girls were about twelve years old). I have experienced louder events, but only because I’ve seen Muse in concert. It was amazing to witness– and most amazing at all was the British public’s sustained ability to simply turn a blind eye and pretend it’s not happening. I watched in horror. And then one of them let off a stink bomb.

They started screaming that “everyone on the bus fuckin’ stinks”, writhing around in disgust and mock-vomiting. One of them spat on the floor and proudly exclaimed “I’ve just been sick!! I’ve just been sick!”. The bus guy looked lost for words, frozen with disbelief and horror.

I said, “Jesus Christ– if you think it stinks so bad, get off the bus!”. The bus guy said “Thanks, mate, thanks!”. The girls turned to me and started screaming at me instead. The term “a word in edgeways” came to mind; it was like being repeatedly pummelled by a giant verbal battering ram and all of its shrieking friends. One of them screamed that if I ‘said another word’ they would ‘hit me and blind me because my glasses would smash and go in my eyes’.

I said another word. One of them hit me in the face. This did not especially hurt, but, rather than shattering them, sent my glasses onto the floor. I grabbed one of them and realised there was nothing I could particularly do here without being arrested; and as I did it, they screamed “that’s assault, that’s assault!”. I don’t know where the bus company guy was at this point; I think he must have gone downstairs to get the bus driver (something he seemed to have done a few times before, although the bus hadn’t stopped). I managed to fish around and locate my glasses before one of the other fuckers did first, which would have spelled disaster for me in the long-term. I sat back down again, boiling with rage, as they circled my seat, shouting abuse and laughing like they were fucking gangsters instead of prepubescent girls. And still none of the other passengers did anything.

This led me into something of a stalemate. I was effectively trapped, as the bus was moving and wouldn’t reach another stop for a few more minutes. One of them thrust a lighter behind my head and singed my hair. I grabbed her wrist, and one of her friends stubbed her own lit cigarette out on my knuckles. This made me feel a bit like The Terminator because having a cigarette stubbed out on you does not hurt as much as you think it’s going to and thus I was able to maintain an air of preserved cool. However, the girls didn’t seem particularly impressed, so I let go of the girl’s wrist and stood up. I grabbed my bag and shoved past them. One of them attempted to block my path.

I am a 19 year-old, heavily-built male. I could have reduced the girl’s idiot skull to a broken Easter egg. I knew that if I did this I would not be given any kind of prize, despite administering a great deal of justice to the universe at large. Instead I kind of flipped out and screamed to the other people on the bus: “Will somebody fucking help me?!” This seemed to do the trick, because as everyone finally stopped pretending and turned to look, the girl seemed to lose her nerve.

As I made my way to the stairs to go to the bottom deck, I noticed my wallet had fallen on the floor. The girl who had blocked my path stamped on it; I lunged towards her and she fell backwards. I grabbed the wallet and went downstairs. As I went down the steps the girl spat on my hair.

The bus company guy was pleading with the driver to stop the bus. The man seemed terrified; not of us, but, I suppose, from what he’d been watching on the camera monitor (and choosing to ignore). We managed to persuade him to pull over and confront them. I don’t know how he managed to get them to respect any variety of authority, but he managed it, because a moment later all four of them marched downstairs. As they did so, one of them shoved at me and attempted to spit at me again (but missed this time). This caused everyone on the lower deck to gasp in horror and mumble things like “disgusting” and “atrocious behaviour”. As we pulled away, they banged and spat on the windows, and, as a final insult, managed to open the vehicle’s rear engine, meaning the driver had to pull over again a moment later to close it.

The whole experience cost me £2.60.

I have learnt two things from all this.

1) My worst fears about the social problem in Britain are confirmed. I don’t mean to get political, but there is an increasing growth in the amount of aggressive and violent crime in the United Kingdom at the moment, and that’s only one measurable facet of the problem. I also don’t mean to come across as prejudiced when I say that it’s an entirely working-class phenomenon; low-income, broken families are giving birth to this rising generation of aggressive, ignorant, cheating pricks. They’re the same people who I have to serve in my shop every week (although, thankfully, I am leaving the job very soon, having been abused, deceived, threatened and nearly stabbed too many times); and they’re the same people who spend their time punching people on buses.

2) I am increasingly convinced that the reason they are able to survive in society is because we tolerate them. An unfeeling sociopath who cannot be reasoned with has incredible power over any unprotected, reasonable individual, because the sociopath is prepared to do things that a ‘normal’ person will not. On that bus, unhelped by anyone other than the bus company guy, I was helpless; if I’d attempted to defend myself I would have been held legally responsible for assault, whereas a 12 year-old hitting a 19 year-old in the face is practically encouraged by the law. But if everyone on that bus had immediately addressed the problem and stood up to those arrogant, unfeeling cunts, then the problem would have been quashed immediately. It filled me with relief to see everyone openly damning them as they were kicked off the bus, but also enraged me to see how most people will only do it when they feel they are safe.

When I got home, I found that I had lost my house keys– they must have fallen out of my pocket too, at some point. My sister let me in.

I smelled of cigarette smoke and stink bomb gas and I had idiot DNA in my hair. I took a shower. It didn’t wash away my PAIN.

EDIT: a lot of people are questioning why I didn’t attempt kill my aggressors. This is for a few reasons.

1) I do not enjoy physical confrontation and do not believe that hitting any of these prepubescent girls would have helped matters. Similarly, I’m in the camp that says that hitting someone who hits you simply for the purposes of revenge doesn’t restore balance to the universe.

It’s not revenge, it’s DISCIPLINE.

2) It was easier and smarter simply to keep pushing them off me and try and get downstairs than actively attempting to wrestle any of them to the ground.
3) When I ‘squealed for help’, as one kind poster put it, I was not, in fact, in tears, or physically unable to move my obstacle. I was attempting to draw peoples’ blind eyes to the mess that was going on in front of them, because it was at that point that I just snapped and thought “Why is everyone allowing this to happen?”

Because that is the way the State has trained you to behave, that’s why.

At the end of the day, I basically won: I inflicted no harm on them, and got them kicked off the bus. I was 100% in the right the whole time. However, I will acknowledge that I did effectively get owned by a bunch of 12 year-old girls and agree that part of my masculinity will now be gone forever.

No sir. You lost, and so did your culture.

Sweet bleeding jeebus.

Why I Love America: Putting the “Wretched” into “Wretched Excess!”

I got back from a business meeting in Las Vegas last night. The meeting ended at 4:00PM, but our flight out wasn’t until 8:00, so we had a bit of time to kill. Having nothing better to do (and I don’t gamble) my associate and I decided to wander the strip, checking out the architecture of the different casinos, and, of course, the architecture of some of the pedestrian traffic as well. (Rrrrowwr!)

One of the casinos we visited was the Bellagio. Lots of interesting stuff to see, intricate detail work, marble mosaics, ceiling freizes, etc., but the thing that stopped me in my tracks was the Bellagio’s Chocolate Fountain. Here’s just a (metaphorical) taste:

Designed by award-winning Executive Pastry Chef Jean-Philippe Maury and Norwood and Antonia Oliver Design Associates, Inc., the fountain took a year and a half in planning and design. The result is a genius work of kinetic sculpture and a daring feat of engineering. Standing 27-feet tall, the masterpiece circulates more than 2,100 pounds of melted dark, milk and white chocolate at a rate of 120 quarts per minute.

I’m an industrial engineering type. I had to think about what my response would be if someone came to me and said “I need a system that will circulate three different types of heated liquid chocolate, with a net weight of 2,100 lbs, over a total vertical head of 27 feet at a rate of 120 quarts per minute, and it has to run 24/7/365.”

Here’s a picture of the fountain, at least the top 14 feet the visitors get to see:

Only in America!

Jane, You Ignorant Socialist Fuck!.

Sorry if the post title offends, (and apologies to the original SNL writers) but I like a righteous rant as much as the next guy, and Bruce at mASS BACKWARDS has as righteous a rant as I’ve read lately. In his Compare and Contrast, Int’l Edition, he details the difference between people who, as he so eloquently and accurately puts it, are prepared with “the means, the ability, and the will to defend” against attack, and those who are not, and who are therefore at the mercy of the merciless.

Bruce’s “ignorant socialist fuck” comment is directed at a representative of Amnesty International.

He shoots, he scores!

Like a Bad Penny, Prof. Saul Cornell Just Keeps Turning Up

This time on the Volokh Conspiracy and David Hardy’s new blog Of Arms and the Law. A while back, I did a fisking of a Cornell op-ed, then the good professor responded to that fisking, and I replied. Shortly thereafter, a student at Ohio State sent me a link to a piece he’d written on the Professor for the OSU Sentinel and the Professor’s position at the John Glenn Second Amendment Research Center. Then the Geek with a .45 followed up with a little in-depth research into the deep pockets and long tentacles of the Joyce Foundation and their funding for that center, and for other gun control groups.

David Hardy, an Arizona lawyer and supporter of the right to arms, noted on April 3 that Fordham University’s Law Review was going to publish

…a symposium issue on the Second Amendment — strangely, without a single recognizable pro-individual rights author (and almost without recognizable authors at all).
Aha, thought I — is the Joyce Foundation at it again? Sure enough, a Google quickly turned this up: “The papers and commentaries presented at the conference will be published in the Fordham Law Review in Fall 2004. The conference was funded by a generous grant from The Joyce Foundation.”

Prof. Cornell’s name came up again in that post in connection to the Joyce Foundation, with reference back to that OSU Sentinel piece I linked to back on the first of March.

The Volokh Conspiracy picked up on David Hardy’s piece, and that got the attention of Il Professore who responded there. Money quote:

The Fordham conference was much more inclusive that the law review issue organized by Glenn Reynolds that gave rise to the silly notion of a standard model. The goal of this conference was to present new research, not recycle the same old arguments.

Right. That would be ideas like “the Standard Model” is “revisionist” and “goes well beyond the idea of interpreting the Constitution as a living document that must respond to changing times”?? Now who’s being silly?

This kind of exchange is awkward, with someone posting on one blog, but the respondent replying on another. Perhaps, however, Prof. Cornell didn’t like my reply to his response here, and has decided to do it the difficult way with intent.

David Hardy’s latest piece on the Joyce Foundation funding is up here. Pretty damning, in my opinion.

“Oh what a tangled web they weave…”

But man they’ve got some deep pockets. And a LOT of bad pennies.

Josh Sugarmann: One of the Few Semi-Honest Gun-Grabbers Out There

Googling around for the last piece, I found an op-ed written by Josh Sugarmann, Executive Director of the Violence Policy Center, and outspoken gun ban proponent. Josh pulls no punches. He wants all handguns banned – as in, “Mr. & Mrs. America, turn ’em all in” banned. And he’s in favor of any means necessary to reach that end, too, as I’ve noted before in the VPC’s (in)famous “anything that looks like a machine gun is assumed to be a machine gun” willingness to mislead the public. He wants “assault weapons” banned, too, but even Josh admits that the threat represented by “scary looking guns” is overblown. But, hey! If it helps in the eventual confiscation of handguns, Josh is all for it.

Anyway, let’s fisk Josh’s latest “frighten the peons” piece from the Charlotte Observer, April 2. (Registration required, use Bugmenot.com)

`The price of freedom’: More bodies

The harsh reality is that too many Americans love their guns more than they love their children

JOSH SUGARMANN
Knight Ridder/Tribune

Now, I’m not sure if Josh or if the Charlotte Observer put in the subtitle (I suspect Josh) but isn’t that just a wee bit inflammatory? “Americans love their guns more than they love their children”? How about “Americans cherish their freedom, and want to pass it on to their children,” Josh? Hmm?

In just 10 days last month, two mass murder-suicides — one ending in a Minnesota high school, the other taking place during a religious service in a Wisconsin hotel — left a combined toll of 18 dead and more than 10 injured.

As Americans go through the familiar ritual of asking how this could happen, the National Rifle Association has a stark answer articulated by former head Harlon Carter more than 20 years ago. America’s gun death toll, he explained, was simply “the price of freedom.”

To Carter, no matter what atrocities stem from America’s unfettered gun culture, they were a small price to pay for the unparalleled “freedom” of Americans to own virtually any gun of their own choosing: from pocket-size derringers to military-bred 50-caliber sniper rifles that can destroy aircraft and penetrate a half inch of armor plating from a mile away.

Did Harlon Carter actually say that? I Googled a bit, but didn’t find such an attribution. I did find a couple of quotes. Harlon is attributed with this:

Can our form of government, our system of justice, survive if one can be denied a freedom because he might abuse it?

I found that on several different pages. Now, Joseph Sobran said something about the “price of freedom:”

The prospect of a government that treats all its citizens as criminal suspects is more terrifying than any terrorist. And even more frightening is a citizenry that can accept the surrender of its freedoms as the price of “freedom”.

As did Benjamin Franklin:

Those who would give up essential liberty to purchase a little temporary safety deserve neither liberty nor safety.

I suppose Josh Sugarmann’s position on whether owning handguns is “an essential liberty” is not in doubt.

I did, however, find a Dave Kopel piece on National Review Online from August of 2000 that addressed the Harlon Carter question. Here’s the pertinent excerpt:

A much more serious error, however, is the description of the late Harlon Carter, the leading architect of the NRA’s transformation from a sportsman’s club into the most powerful civil liberties organization in the history of the world. According to the (Washington) Post, “Asked in 1975 if he would rather let convicted violent felons and the mentally deranged buy guns than endorse a screening process for gun sales, Carter did not hesitate to say yes. That’s the ‘price we pay for freedom.'”

Not really. At the 1975 congressional hearing, a congressman asked the question described by the Post, but when Carter began to answer, the congressman cut him off, saying he wanted a different witness to answer. In the official transcript, Carter’s answer is “The price we pay for freedom — “.

The Post‘s inadvertent distortion of Carter’s meaning was doubtless the product of an interview with someone from a Washington anti-gun lobby, where the politics of personal destruction have been the norm for decades.

Misrepresenting Carter’s statement was pretty mild compared to other attacks that Handgun Control, Inc., launched on Carter. One fundraising letter from HCI featured a picture of Harlon Carter on the envelope. The letter screamed that Carter “has seen to it that thousands of life-loving people like you and me DIE every year — shot with a handgun.”

I’m not so sure that Carter was all that misquoted. Smeared, yes. Misquoted, no. Nevertheless, I will be the first to admit that IF there were no guns, we’d have no gun crime. However, I’ve a firm grasp on reality, and I know that there’s no way to get rid of all the guns, so the point is moot. But let’s continue:

Carter’s words have shaped the world view of today’s NRA. They also lead to a more important question. At what point will Americans agree that the price exacted by guns — the gun lobby’s “price of freedom” — is simply too high?

Well, Josh, I’d say that after 9/11 it will be a point – if ever – far in the future. And you know why? Sept. 11, 2001 was a wake-up call for a lot of Americans, who suddenly looked around them and saw reality, and realized that all the fuzzy-bunny wishful-thinking I’m-OK-you’re-OK philosophies offered by the people who wanted to disarm America for its own good was just that – wishful thinking. They started thinking about the real price of freedom.

An all-too-familiar pattern has already emerged after the Red Lake High School shooting in Minnesota — the worst school shooting in the United States since Columbine. Attention has focused on virtually everything except the actual tools — reportedly two handguns and a shotgun — that made the massacre possible.

Yes, weapons belonging to a police officer. Weapons issued by his police department.

And your point is…?

Did the school have metal detectors?

Yes.

Was the security guard armed?

No.

Did the unique struggles faced by the residents of Indian reservations play a role?

Apparently not.

What about the shooter’s postings on a white supremacist Web site, and did other students help plan the attack? What have we learned since Columbine?

That we have some seriously messed up kids, and that drugging them might be a contributing factor in school shootings?

Each of these questions is legitimate. Yet while other Western, industrialized nations face their own civic, social and economic problems, they understand the direct link between gun availability and gun violence and severely restrict access to specific classes of firearms. The result is that other countries simply don’t experience mass shootings as commonly seen in the United States. The United States is unique in the ease with which it allows its citizens to act on their rage through the barrel of a gun.

Very true. Yet other countries have had school shootings and other forms of lethal attack. Dunblane, Scotland, March 1996. Sanaa, Yemen, March 1997. Friesing Germany, Feb. 19, 2002. Erfurt Germany, April 26, 2002. Vlasenica, Bosnia-Herzegovina, April 29, 2002. Carmen de Patagones, Argentina, Sept. 28, 2004. All shootings. Osaka, Japan, June 8, 2001 (knife, 8 dead, 21 wounded.) According to the Time Magazine’s Asia edition from Nov. 2004:

Last week, the city’s place in (China’s) consciousness acquired a stain that may take years to fade. At midnight, a 21-year-old named Yan Yanming reportedly entered the dormitory of Ruzhou’s No. 2 High School and slipped into the rooms where male students slept. Yan slashed some students’ throats, according to Xinhua, the state news agency. Others he stabbed in the heart. Eight died without rising. Four survived—hours later, witnesses saw the smears where their blood flowed down the school’s front steps. Police caught Yan the next day after he overdosed on drugs at his parents’ home. The attack left the city in shock. “People couldn’t believe that their school could be so unsafe,” says Cheng Honggen, a local Xinhua reporter.

The Ruzhou killings are part of a chilling rite of passage endured by modern societies all over the world. Ruzhou was the sixth in a string of deadly attacks on Chinese schoolchildren that began in August, when a schizophrenic janitor at a Beijing kindergarten stabbed 14 children, killing one, according to police. A bus driver in Shandong province was executed earlier this month for slashing 24 kids in September; last month, a teacher in Hunan province was arrested for killing four students and wounding 12; two weeks later a man in Beijing was arrested for killing a six-year-old and stuffing him into the school’s washing machine. The violence stalking the land of one-child families is not confined to the lower grades. In April, a college student named Ma Jiajue hacked four classmates to death after an all-night poker game. Ma said he was “too poor to afford shoes” and killed from jealousy.

The number of murders, rapes and batteries committed by juveniles in China is growing faster than 10% a year, says criminologist Pi Yijun of the China Politics and Law University. Stunned parents and authorities are searching for reasons for the surge. Some blame greater individual freedom and the decline of authoritarian control. Others explain it as the result of epochal social change and the loss of moral ballast once supplied by communist ideology.

One thing they’re not blaming it on is “knife availability.”

Sorry, Josh, but “gun availability” isn’t the reason we’re having mass shootings. We’ve always had guns.

Even when Americans’ attention is focused on gun policy, a timid mindset takes hold. Advocates and policy-makers look for minor, “common sense” policy proposals into which they can shoehorn the discrete circumstances of a particular attack.

To avoid ugly realities like “cops have guns, and they aren’t going to give them up.” Which might be a message you ought to take from the Red Lake massacre. You’ll notice they ignore your major “ban-and-confiscate” legislation because by common sense they know better than to try.

They are unwilling to acknowledge the basic fact that America’s gun violence problem is a direct result of the ease with which Americans can obtain virtually any gun of their choice for almost any intent. Why talk about banning handguns when you can focus on trigger locks?

Well, Josh, I reject your premise right there. America’s “gun violence problem” has been declining for over a decade – while our stock of guns has been increasing by at least three million new guns per year. That’s over 30 million new guns, and declining gun violence. More guns do not equal “more gun violence.”

No matter how many times you keep repeating the lie.

Mass shootings today are treated almost like tornadoes or earthquakes — unstoppable forces of nature that we must endure. The harsh reality is that too many Americans love their guns more than they love their children. Each new shooting — regardless of the number of people killed or the formerly “safe” environment violated by the sound of gunfire — seems less to shock us than to inure us to the next horrible incident.

Perhaps because we are not willing to be treated as criminals for crimes we have not committed? Perhaps because we resent being told things like “Americans love their guns more than they love their children” by preening self-righteous moralists like you? America listened to the Prohibitionists tell us that outlawing alcohol would solve all kinds of problems. It didn’t. It created all kinds of new ones. England’s subjects listened when their gun prohibitionists told them that banning semi-auto weapons would solve problems. It didn’t. They listened again after Dunblane, and banned all handguns – and that hasn’t helped either, has it? Why would we want to follow that disproven path?

In April, when parents across America think twice about sending their children to school on April 20, the sixth anniversary of the Columbine massacre, remember Harlon Carter’s words: We are just paying “the price of freedom.”

Perhaps they should think about something else: Their children are going to “gun free zones” where there isn’t anyone to protect them against anyone with harmful intent, regardless of the weapon used. No administrator, no teacher, no groundskeeper, in most cases no security guard, will be able to stop a determined attacker.

They’ll have to wait until the cops show up. With their guns.

The world has changed, Josh, but it’s not the guns that are the problem, and it never has been.

Even China is figuring that out.