weapon sales

5

QUARK: I’ve been sent by my people to open up a market for advanced Ferengi technology.
DENNING: What kind of technology you talking about?
QUARK: How would you like to travel beyond the stars at speeds you never even dreamt were possible? Or to transport yourselves from one place to another in the blink of an eye?
DENNING: You know how to do that?
QUARK: That’s only the beginning. We can give you the medical knowledge to cure your deadliest diseases. We have machines that can produce food and clothing out of thin air.
DENNING: What about weapons?
QUARK: Weapons? If you want weapons, I’m the man to see. We can teach you to make phasers, disruptors, photon torpedoes or even quantum torpedoes. A little more expensive, but worth it.

just so you guys know justin trudeau the happy canadian cool guy prime minister™ hasn’t honoured any of his platform promises since getting into office and the first thing he actually did as PM was sign a 15bn dollar weapons sale to Saudi Arabia–the largest human rights violator in the world atm–even though he promised, if he was elected into office, that he would get rid of the deal altogether lol. canada is complicit in crimes against humanity and is still really really really racist don’t be fooled by JT’s six pack he’s a piece of human trash too 

4

QUARK: But when you’re dealing in weapons, buyers aren’t interested in casual conversation. They just want their merchandise, no questions asked. It’s so impersonal.
GARAK: Your charms would be wasted.
QUARK: Exactly. So now Gaila owns his own moon, and I’m staring into the abyss. And the worst part is, my only hope for salvation is the Federation.
GARAK: I know precisely how you feel.

I am trying to get back into the writing thing and today I was watching baseball and moved to write. So, yay! 

I mean, it’s nothing much, but it is something. So, have some quick, fluffy Darcy/Bucky, sort of baseball related fic. 

Thanks for being patient with me during this dreadful writing dry spell. I really appreciate it. 


Autumn was starting to creep into the city. The weather was still mostly warm and green, but there’d been a couple of blustery, rainy days, and a new little chill in the air in the mornings. Darcy wasn’t sure she’d ever quite get used to Fall starting in September, but, it wasn’t the worst thing in the world. Because, for real, east coast summers were the worst.

Bucky’s apartment was not the best place to spend a summer. There was no cross breeze, it got stuffy as hell, and had no central air or anything. A couple fans by the windows, and mostly they just pushed around the sticky, grimy air from the outside.

Today was one of those slightly blustery days, though, and there was a hint of cool and damp and a definite breeze that rattled his blinds. And the apartment was quiet, nobody constantly demanding her attention for this thing or that. She could maybe get some things done. Maybe. Truthfully, it was just nice to hang out quietly with him.

“I think the bar oughta be a Dodgers bar,” Bucky said decisively from his spot on the couch.

On the other side of the couch, curled up, her back to the arm rest, feet braced on his thigh, Darcy was spending her Saturday afternoon reluctantly reading reports from Phil. She didn’t even bother glare. “Over my dead body.”

“It’s my bar.”

“That I’m paying for.” Darcy glanced up from her work and considered the screen. “How about the Mets? I have no strong feelings, they’re local, and they’re not the Yankees.”

“I don’t know,” he grumbled. “What the hell’s a Met?”

“Metropolitans.” She rolled her eyes and nudged his knee with her foot. “Oh my God, don’t be like that.”

His lips lifted into a little smile and he shrugged. “I’ll consider it.”

Darcy braced her elbow on the back of the couch and set her chin in her hand, watching the game for a minute. “I know a guy on the Mets.”

“Yeah?”

“Well, know.” She shrugged. “His mom’s my lawyer, and his grandpa was my lawyer before that. We sort of knew each other as kids. Kind of. Like, Memorial Day cookouts at his grandpa’s house kind of thing.”

Bucky jerked his chin at the tv. “He playing?”

She squinted at the field and counted the numbers. “I don’t see him. I think he’s mostly a bench guy this year. Second base, some shortstop. Good defense, quick on his feet. So-so hitter. Though, he had a good year in triple-A last year. Rick Carmine.”

“I’ll look out for him,” Bucky said and turned his attention back to the game. “Miami Marlins. Sounds like a double-A team,” he grumbled and fell silent for a long moment. “That guy needs a haircut. His hair’s longer than yours.”

“Says you, Mr. Lucious Locks down to your manly shoulders,” Darcy laughed, with a roll of her eyes, turning her own attention back to her tablet. So, okay, it wasn’t entirely quiet at Bucky’s, especially when he was in a ‘kids these days’ mood. Hilarious as that usually was. “Besides, baseball — it’s a long season, what else are they going to do other than grow weirdass beards and bad mullets? Not that there’s a good mullet.”

He let out a long breath through his nose. “I don’t like the long pants, either.”

Darcy stared at him for a second, looked at the screen, then back at him. “Are they playing baseball?”

“More or less.”

Exasperated, she waved a hand at him, the tv, the universe. “Then, just, whatever, okay?”

He snorted and slumped down on the couch, kicking up his feet onto his coffee table. “Okay, so if some guys have their pants long, and other guys have their socks high, I’ll pretend I don’t mind. But, if the socks are high, shouldn’t they all be the same? It’s a uniform. How come that guy’s got stripes on his socks, and that guy’s are just black? They’re on the same team, it oughta look the same.”

Darcy rubbed at her forehead and tried to pretend she was focusing on blackmarket weapon sales in Ukraine, and not her partner’s old man griping. “Let me get you the commissioner’s email. You can send him a letter.”

“Yeah, I’ll send him a letter,” he said, his tone dark with menace.

Darcy nudged his leg again. “Why are you all grumpy cat? You’ve been watching games all season.”

“Yeah, but by myself mostly.” He gave her a sad little look, like she’d abandoned him through the baseball season. “A couple times with Barton.”

“But you don’t bitch to Barton.” Aww, he wanted to save his bitching for when she could hear it. That was both annoying and sweet.

“I don’t know. I guess not.” Bucky watched the game and then slapped his hand on his thigh. “Where the hell was that pitch, ump? Geez. That was right across the letters. Ball, what a crock.”

Darcy laughed at his outrage. It was so normal, and those moments where he was just a regular guy were always such delight. “I’m pretty sure the proper nickname for every baseball umpire is 'bum’. So, like, that was a lousy call, you bum.”

“I agree. And he is a bum. Look at that strike zone. Or don’t, because I can’t tell where the hell it is.” He pointed at the TV. “I like the strike zone box they put up on the screen. Bet the umps don’t.”

“Some people want robo-umps,” she informed him. “I’m on the fence. I don’t entirely hate that, you know, each ump can have his own sort of unique strike zone, but that’s only okay so long as they’re consistent, you know.”

“Robo-ump?”

“Basically that strike zone box. A computer would call balls and strikes. I don’t know. I still like the human element. And you get to yell at the bums, which is part of the fun. Some people, though…”

He kept his face pointed at the TV, but his eyes slid over to her. “Yeah, well some people like the DH.”

Darcy scowled at him. “I am not arguing about the DH with you. Again.”

“Ruining the game,” he said, his voice rising.

“Oh my God, shut up about the DH.”

Bucky slapped his metal fist in his palm and glowered at the world. “Glad I was on the ice when it was instituted or I woulda burned the league down.”

“For real, stop.”

“What a waste of the bench,” he barked, his voice heating and he was waving his hands at the TV. “So, you carry an extra guy who’s only job is to—” Darcy lurched up and lunged at him, clapping her hand across his mouth.

“No,” she said, begging, demanding, insisting, pleading. “You’re a National League guy, it’s fine, I accept it. I like you for who you are, this critical personality flaw included. But, please, no more.”

They stared each other down for a long moment before he finally nodded and she let him go. She sat back cautiously, watching him warily like he might start in again.

There’d been a very, very long flight from Argentina where he talked about the designated hitter rule the whole time. She’d been tempted to jump out of the quinjet, except her suit’s arc reactor was offline and she was having a hard time getting it back. Even then, though, she was still tempted to jump. She worked great under pressure, and nothing beat the pressure of gravity and a quickly approaching planet.

He turned his attention back to the game. “Mets are okay, I guess. For the bar, I mean.”

“Good, great,” she told him, relieved to have escaped that dangerous, dangerous DH moment.

“But, I don’t want a bunch of tvs in the bar,” he said, pointing a finger at her. “Most places, they’ve always got 'em up too loud. I’m not going to the bar to have some sports jock shout at me while I’m trying to drink a beer.”

“A couple, just for games, turn them off the rest of the time.”

“'Kay.”

They were silent for a moment and then she laughed. “You’re like a million years old.”

“I like what I like,” he grumped. “I don’t like the DH, though, because it takes away from strategy—”

“NO!” She dropped her tablet listlessly onto her lap, threw her head back, and let her body go limp in utter and complete defeat. “Call Steve. You guys can go do your old fogey thing about it. Rarr, kids these days and their designated hitter. God. Leave me in peace,” she groaned, so much pain, so much anguish. Minor anguish, but still, shut up Bucky.

The room fell quiet after her cri de coeur, except for the quiet rumble of traffic, the voice of the play by play man, and Bucky’s laughter. The big asshole.

“Jerk,” she muttered and petulantly shoved at his leg with her foot.

“I love riling you up.”

“Biggest jerk.”

He let out an amused sigh and grabbed her foot before she could kick him again. “Okay, so the Dodgers are in LA. The Athletics are in Oakland. The Giants are in San Francisco. Weird.”

“The east coast needs to stop hoarding all the teams,” she shot back, her tone sour, still annoyed.

“I guess, or California will steal them all.” He gave her a look and then returned his attention to the game. “Oh, and the Braves are in Atlanta. And I don’t know what happened to the Senators except now they’re the Nationals?”

“I think they’re the Twins now, and the Nationals moved from Montreal.”

His brows drew down in a confused frown. “Montreal. Canada?”

Darcy shrugged and picked up her tablet again. Work was not really getting done, but she could try to pretend. “Toronto Blue Jays.”

“I can’t keep up with all this.”

“Don’t try to see the then, live with the now,” she advised.

“What?”

“Half the league are teams after your day. Just, you know, embrace the league as it is now.”

“Except the DH.”

“Mother fu—” Darcy thumped her forehead with the palm of her hand. “I walked into that one.”

“Yeah, you did,” he told her, sounding almost gleeful.

“See if I let you use the company seats at the ballpark of your choice. Ever,” she told him, glaring darkly.

“You’ve got seats at all the parks?”

“Ok, well, no, not really. The places we have major offices. For, you know, schmoozing clients, or rewarding employees, and like that. I’d have to check where all. But I’m pretty sure I  could get really awesome tickets anywhere. Not that I will for you. So, know what you’re missing and suffer. Nosebleed seats for you, buddy.”

Bucky snickered and rubbed a hand down her shin, squeezing her ankle lightly. “Yeah, 'cause I can’t buy my own tickets.”

“Boo to you,” she whined and huddled over her tablet. “Ruin every scrap of fun I have.”

He drew a meep of surprise from her when he pulled on her leg, drawing her down the couch. Flailing a little at the sudden move, she found herself flat on her back under a looming and impressive assassin. He had one hand braced on the back of the couch, and the other on the arm above her head. It was … a breathtaking view.

“Yep,” he said, smirking. “Ruining your fun, that’s me.”

Letting out a long breath, she poked at his chest; not hard, only just enough to appreciate the closeness and solidness of his pecs. He wasn’t the biggest guy she knew, but wow, he really knew how to work the upper body. And, she was free to grope at will. In a not creepy way. Hooray dating.

“You are in an interesting mood today,” she murmured, still examining his chest. The gray henley was really well fitting. And probably brought out the blue in his eyes, but she was focused elsewhere.

“Nobody’s shooting at us,” he said, leaning down to press a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “Nobody is torturing us.” Another kiss on the other side of her mouth. “Nobody is trying to blow us up.” His lips landed solidly on hers, but before she could make it a real kiss he drew back with a smile. “Nobody is—”

Her phone rang and he turned his head towards the device with a growl. A real, deep, animal growl. Darcy couldn’t help it, she laughed.

“Of course.” Grabbing his chin, she turned his face back to her and captured his lips with hers. She was getting her kiss, interruptions be damned. But, the phone kept ringing and it was Phil’s ringtone and there was only so long they could ignore the Director.

“I hate Coulson,” Bucky grumbled against her cheek. “I hate him a lot.”

“But, he’s such a big fan of yours.” She shoved at his chest, but regretfully this time it was less about feeling him up and more about moving him out of the way.

He didn’t move far, just slid to the side, squeezing between her and the back of the couch. Shoving his bristly chin against the side of her neck, he grumbled darkly, swearing in Russian, while she fumbled for the phone.

“This better be a planet-wide emergency, Phil,” Darcy greeted with a groan.

“I need you to go to Japan,” he greeted. “I’m sending you the file.”

“Bucky wants you to know that he hates you.”

“That’s too bad,” Phil said, his voice bland and unbothered by the fact that one of his childhood heroes hated him. “I’d like to do a video brief in half an hour.”

“You’re interrupting his baseball day,” Darcy pressed.

“Baseball lasts for a half the year. Did you know I played second in little league?”

“No.”

“Read the file, briefing in thirty.” Phil hung up and Darcy dropped her phone on the floor and patted the side of Bucky’s head.

“I hate him,” Bucky muttered.

“Me, too. Briefing in thirty.” She squirmed away from her partner and rubbed a hand over her eyes, trying to shake off the haze of 'attractive man and his kissing and attractiveness and such’. “I think we need to sweep your apartment for cameras.”

“Why?” Bucky shoved himself up and flopped back over to his side of the couch.

“His timing is too … suspicious.” She glared up at a likely corner of the room. “I bet he’s colluding with my dad.”

“I think you’re paranoid.”

“Is it paranoid when we work for a spy agency? And my dad is a big nosy, nudnik?”

“Probably,” he said with a dry chuckle. “So, briefing? Where are we going?”

Darcy glared sourly and pulled her tablet out from where it got stuck between the couch cushions. “Japan.”

“Sounds fun. I like Japan.”

Darcy closed her eyes and shook her head slowly. “And now you’ve cursed it.”

So much for a quiet Saturday. Boo.

washingtonpost.com
Czech government tells its citizens how to fight terrorists: Shoot them yourselves
While the E.U. passes strict gun laws, Czechs are urged to arm themselves.

The Czech Republic already has some of the most lenient gun policies in Europe. It’s home to about 800,000 registered firearms and 300,000 people with gun licenses. Obtaining a weapon is relatively easy: Residents must be 21, pass a gun knowledge check and have no criminal record. By law, Czechs can use their weapons to protect their property or when in danger, although they need to prove they faced a real threat.

This puts the country at odds with much of Europe, which has long supported much more stringent gun-control measures.  In the wake of the 2015 terror attacks in Paris, France pushed the European Union to enact even tougher policies. The European Commission’s initial proposal called for a complete ban on the sale of weapons like Kalashnikovs or AR-15s that are intended primarily for military use. Ammunition magazines would be limited to 20 rounds or less.

anonymous asked:

There's a GODLY Palindrome amongst other weapons for sale this week. r/sharditkeepit has a breakdown of all the new vendor weapons and some are looking really good!

I saw! That palidrome is very VERY nice for PvP

The Event Horizon and Seventh Sense is pretty good for PvE as well! 

Anyone interested can view the reddit post here: https://www.reddit.com/r/sharditkeepit/comments/6e4j1d/weekly_vendor_stuff/?st=j3bfvdm5&sh=3bf09b45

ESFJ: Quark, “Star Trek: Deep Space Nine”

ESFJ – the Provider, the Facilitator, the Caretaker

DS9 enjoys making its characters outcasts from their home cultures. As the self-professed keeper of Ferengi tradition, Quark has the farthest to fall when he loses everything and becomes a failure in his people’s eyes. It’s then that he discovers that he’s made friends among the misfits on the station—the hew-mons and other non-Ferengi he’s disdained, but still served as their faithful bartender.

Dominant Function: (Fe) Extraverted Feeling, “The Garden Fountain”

Quark could also be called, “the Host, the Negotiator, the Party-Planner.” His bar is the hub of DS9’s civilian population, arguably as important as Ops itself. When Sisko convinces/blackmails him to stay and keep the place open after the Occupation, the community on the station comes back to life.

Despite their ongoing combative relationship, Quark feels actual affection for Odo, and always tries to goad the constable into admitting the same. He likes messing with Odo’s composure using Fe in the same way Odo likes to frustrate his life using Te. They have it out one day while stranded on a mountain together, and Quark assures Odo he meant every hateful word—and the feeling is mutual.

Quark’s materialism isn’t driven just by personal desire, but by the need to be seen as a successful Ferengi. His culture says that acquiring profit by any means necessary is the goal of life, and Quark aspires to this standard. When he fails, he’s embarrassed. When his family fails him, or bucks the values they were raised with, Quark tries to shame and bully them back into line.

Keep reading

I’m now convinced that the “second omnic crisis” is a fiction perpetrated by Katya Volskaya against her own country in order to profit from the sale of weapons, and, TBH, Zarya is going to throw her down a bottomless pit Emperor Palpatine style when she finds out

7

SELLING CALEDSCRATCH! No decent Dave Cosplayer can be without his most iconic sword!

  1. Dimensions: 42″ Long from Butt to Blade. The Handguard is about 5.5 inches wide and 2.5 inches thick. The Blade is less than half inch thick.
  2. Special Details: The Knob and the Record CDJ turntable thing both spin and can be turned. There is also a slot on the back for a iPhone 4 or 4S to be Velcro-ed in for Selfies or Music or anything really. When I went to Kawaii Kon the sword was a HUGE HIT! “Selfie Sword” was all they could say!
  3. Sturdy Pine Wood construction, Smooth paint job and finish, and 1/4″ aluminum rods as record needles.
  4. I’m selling this for $200, OR BEST OFFER. If you want the iPhone that goes with it, I can supply it at an additional charge. It’s been used once for Kawaii Kon 2015 and that’s all. It doesn’t look perfect, but it was a rush job done in just a few weeks.
  5. If you’re interested, please send me an email at unrelatedtohomestuck@gmail.com. 
  6. I’m also available for commissions, weapons or armor preferred only; I don’t do sewing. If you would like to see more images or have other inquiries, please send me an email as well. My ask box and email box are always open.
The cast of Resident Evil 4 in "Local Man" terms
  • Leon S Kennedy: Local man travels to Spain, is infected by mind-control parasite, saves presidents daughter
  • Ashley Graham: Local woman is kidnapped, infected with mind-control parasite, throws some lamps
  • Ada Wong: Local Spy reveals that she is alive, saves love interest, fights coworker, quits job
  • Luis Sera: Local man gets captured, reveals crucial information, dies of chest eruption
  • Jack Krauser: Local man betrays coworkers, attempts to murder old friend, dies of parasitic infection
  • Albert Wesker: Local man sits in spiny chair, attempts to orchestrate murder with unwilling employee
  • Village Chief: local man attempts murder, turns into a centipede
  • Salazar: Local child claims to be in his 20's, makes giant robot statue of self, turns into a weird plant
  • Saddler: Local man revives cult, kidnaps presidents daughter, murders hundreds, turns into spider monstrosity
  • The Merchant: Local man experiences boom in weapon sales
Iron Man / The Avengers: Anthony Edward Stark [ESFP]

OFFICIAL TYPING by Charity / The Mod.

Extroverted Sensing (Se): Tony is comfortable engaging with the environment and using it to the best of his ability; when imprisoned, he uses the objects around him to invent the first Iron Man. He is comfortable in high-risk situations and enjoys physical engagement. Prior to finding “a purpose” as Iron Man, Tony is a playboy, caught up in indulging all his sensual whims (gorgeous women, fine cars, expensive parties, etc). Each situation is an “experience” for Tony, who goes straight for the quickest solution to resolve problems. He uses the world, connecting to and finding its possibility, without difficulty or hesitation – and nearly gets himself killed multiple times in the process. For the most part, he lets Pepper run his companies, preferring to “play” instead of “work.”

Introverted Feeling (Fi): Until the sales of weapons impacts Tony directly, he doesn’t care about them – and then once he reaches a hard line moral conclusion that it is wrong, he refuses to further make or sell weapons, which threatens the company’s bottom line. Tony’s Fi is unhealthy, in the sense that he often sticks to his own moral beliefs, without considering the fall out (refusing to sell weapons means closing some of his businesses, forcing hundreds of thousands of people into unemployment; he also disregards Cap’s feelings about Bucky, focusing on his own intense beliefs and need for revenge). Tony’s emotions bottle up, sometimes over years (his anguish over the last argument he had with his parents, finally exploding with rage when he finds out who killed them).

Extroverted Thinking (Te): CONTROL. Tony strives for it, constantly; he believes humans need monitored and protected, and that the Avengers need a check… government oversight. He sees a logical problem (the mass damage they have caused) and goes straight for the obvious solution (a contract forcing them to abide by rules) rather than engaging in creative thinking or finding loopholes (unlike Cap, whose Ti has analyzed the problems of governmental oversight). When Cap refuses to agree and sign the document, Tony recruits and avidly tries to force him into obedience. Tony often loops through Se/Te, creating brutal frankness in conversation, harsh insults and criticisms of others, and a tendency to disregard personal feelings to accomplish a task (ignoring Cap’s feelings about Bucky). Financial gain has little motive over Tony, who can put together business proposals but prefers to leave running companies to Pepper.

Introverted Intuition (Ni): Tony tinkers with inventions, but all of them pertain in some way to Iron Man after awhile. He fixates on this one project, obsessively refining and perfecting the suit. He reaches singular conclusions, a sense of what he believes is going to happen or what will “fix” the problem, and refuses to change his mind, which leads to conflict with the other types. It’s ONE WAY, all the way. Under stress, Tony becomes convinced of catastrophic impending events, and disaster around every turn. He becomes so caught up in this vision, he can’t see any other possibility or solution. Further, sometimes his excitement over creating things fails to take into account the futuristic fall-out (Ultron).

Note: I know, I know. I’m going to take heat for this typing. Stereotypes want Iron Man an ENTP. This one is not. No Ne. None. One solution, one object, one interest, one resolution to every problem is not Ne. Half the movies are about Tony reacting to and engaging the environment (Se) and fixating on a single opinion (Ni). He also has no Ti. His adaptability comes from Se, but when presented with difficult problems, Tony locks into using control, force, and rules (Te), rather than inventing a new system (Ti). The last movie really showcases this, with his single solution of “sign the document.” His raging emotions turn up frequently, far more than futuristic insight. Tony internalizes feels until he loses it. His PTSD a few movies back showed his inability to articulate emotion outwardly, instead leading into a depressive, paranoid spiral. There is a margin of error for ENTJ, since Tony does spend most of his time in an unhealthy loop, but he exhibits the paranoid symptoms of lower Ni, and he appears much more capable with Se than Te, suggesting it’s the dominant. Some of his decisions are incredibly short-sighted (Ultron??).

independent.co.uk
Labour will immediately ban all weapons sales to repressive countries if it wins the election
Labour has signalled it is looking at new measures to ensure British-built weapons and military technology are not bought by repressive regimes around the world. It comes as the party plans its general election manifesto and following uproar at the Government’s backing for billions of pounds worth of arms sales to Saudi Arabia.
2

Clement Mle 1903 pistol

Manufactured by Liégeois armourer Charles Ph. Clément c.1903-1908 in Belgium - serial number 7733.
5x18mm Clément - originally Charola y Anitua - 8-rounds removable box magazine, blowback semi-automatic.

An early semi-automatic pistol, similar to the FN Browning 1900 in some ways. Its descendant the M1907 will do away with the Clement cartridge and adopt the .25ACP and .32ACP rounds.

The 5mm Clement cartridge was a Mauser pistol copy much like the Charola y Anitua pistol, but was not well stabilized in flight. As such it tumbled a lot, but this somehow didn’t impair the pistol’s sales.

Here’s some common sense for you. I want gun ownership to be as boring and annoying as car ownership. I want you to go to some Department of Weapons and sit for hours. I want folks who own guns to prove their skill, their mental and physical health, and to be licensed and reviewed over the years just as happens with our driver’s licenses. You earn the right to own and drive a vehicle; earn the right to own and use a gun.


Quibble with me over semantics if you want to; what is a “right” vs. what is a “privilege.” I’ll be busy with my friends trying to prevent more unnecessary deaths.


Gun ownership isn’t some inalienable right granted by God.

Remember, the Constitution was written by men coming out of a long and bloody war near the end of the 18th century. It was written for their time.


It also included the “right” to own a human being.


Things change. Folks evolve.


I want a voluntary federal buyback program for firearms, with hunting weapons and vintage/historic weapons exempt. I want the sale of weapons to be even more tightly controlled than the sale of Xanax and other controlled substances. I want advertising for firearms to be as regulated as DTC (direct to consumer) advertising for pharmaceuticals (“May cause shortness of breath, long-lasting boners, etc.”) We can do all of this. It’ll create jobs, believe it or not: regulators, educators, enforcers.


It will not end murder. It won’t end rape or robbery either. It WILL make it harder to commit those crimes. There will be a black market for guns as there is for any coveted item in a capitalist society. (And I’m not anti-capitalism, btw. I’m a big fan! Sorry, hippies. I do love you guys, by the way, you’re very nice people with good instincts.) Continuing education credits for gun owners should be required, just as they are with medical professionals.


When you have a greater ability to take a human life you have a greater responsibility to prove your fitness to wield the tools that may create that end.


And that’s how the fuck you well-regulate a goddamn American militia..