The Skeeter Daddle Diaries

Gun Gospel

It’s been a few weeks since the Parkland killings down in Florida and Big Walter seems to think he’s Designated Spokesman for the NRA, judging by his non-stop harangues from the Diner to the Pilot Lounge. Last time I was fortunate enough for a reprise, he was on a soapbox in the big box grocery’s cafeteria off island presumably to spread his gun gospel to the gunless and misinformed citizens of Stanwood and Gomorrah.

“They could ban assault rifles all day long and not one life would be saved!” he fumed with a styrofoam cup of coffee waved to make a point. “Same with background checks. Any nutcase can buy a gun if he wants one. A psychiatric test, ha! He’ll just go buy one illegally on the street. Not gonna stop him! The only thing that’ll stop him is more guns … in the hands of the good guys!” Walter slammed his cup on the formica table and splattered coffee on the newspaper his victims had set down to listen all the better. Big mistake, but then, Walt was new to them.

Out here in the hinterlands the NRA P.R. machine is running full tilt. I guess if banning AR-15’s won’t prevent some other massacre, well, why bother at all? If some guy flunks the psycho test and buys a gun from a buddy, then what’s the use trying to stop him? The NRA sure doesn’t see the point when the correct answer is to arm everyone from daycare teachers to Walmart greeters. Next would-be massacre might look like the O.K. Corral, collateral damage sure, but the next psycho-killer would think twice, wouldn’t he? And if everyone’s blasting away, the cops are going to have a hard time sorting out the good guys from the bad guys, but that’s the price you pay for the god given right to bear arms, Walter would argue.

Meanwhile he’s explaining how he himself is ‘packing’ now. The lady at the table next door who’s evidently been listening suddenly picks up her tray of half eaten food and moves to the far end of the cafeteria, maybe figuring stray bullets would be considerably less likely. Me, I headed for the exit. Before I wanted to get a conceal carry myself. For Walter.

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