Did I Really Say “Crack-Pow”?! Am I an Eight Year Old Boy?

Anyway, being that yesterday was really the first time I’ve actually shot a gun (though I recall shooting at bricks in Mark Abodie’s back yard when I was in junior high), I wanted to say something about it other than just “It went bang!  It went bang in my hands.”

Sadly, I lack the vocabulary to talk about it, so I can only tell you that I shot a handgun and one of those other things, a gun gun.

Laugh away, gun nuts.  And then laugh again when you hear that I got home and the Butcher accused me of letting Mack turn me Republican.

I found firing the gun gun less remarkable than firing the handgun.  I guess I’ve shot enough bb guns in my day for it to just feel like the equivalent of stepping from, say, Taco Bell to La Hacienda.  You kind of know what to expect, even if it’s much differnent than you expected.  And I felt like, with enough practice, I could have gotten good at that and enjoyed it.

But the handgun was much different.  I mean, no matter how many squirt guns you shoot, it doesn’t prepare you for that.

What surprised me most was that I had this idea that guns made people feel powerful.  And yet, holding that thing in my hands, and pulling the trigger… I didn’t really feel powerful at all.  I felt like I had an intention–to fire the gun–and a goal–to hit the can.  And in between my intention and my goal was going to be a machine going through a very powerful set of steps that, though I instigated, weren’t exactly in my control.

Does that make sense?  I thought I would feel like “Yeah, I did that!” but instead I felt like “Holy shit!  I could have never done that without this piece of equipment!”

I’m glad I did it.  I was sorry to disappoint Mack and his brood.  I think they were hoping for a repeat of the crying and pissing and moaning I did when they forced me to ride the four-wheeler.

Still, I think it’s good to do things that make you uncomfortable.  It gives you something to think about and a knowledge base from whence to draw on when you read stories about guns.

But, but, but I forgot to tell y’all the most exciting thing.

********WARNING: Not actually that exciting************

Mack’s afghan is doing me in.  I’m just making coasters with no end in sight.  Really, I am a coaster making machine and still have only filled one Walmart bag with them.  So, I was trying to figure out what dimensions to make it so that I could at least have goals–only six more piles of ten coasters each or something–and Mack came up with this brilliant idea that his afghan should be 11×14, since 11/14 is his birthday.

Isn’t that just right?

And, better yet, that means I’m half done with my coaster making (if one excludes all the triangles I’ll have to do at the end.


I love that kind of shit.

11 thoughts on “Did I Really Say “Crack-Pow”?! Am I an Eight Year Old Boy?

  1. Ok, I’m laughing a little at “gun gun”. They are called rifles, Sweetie. And you fired a 22, which has about as much kick as your average bb gun.

    The 30.06 is slightly different.

    Turning you Republican? After I’ve spent the better part of last year fine tuning your liberalism? Tell him to go check the military records of Dems vs Repubs. We know how to handle guns, we just don’t worship them. Now, I will worship my cordless reciprocating saw…

  2. “What surprised me most was that I had this idea that guns made people feel powerful. And yet, holding that thing in my hands, and pulling the trigger… I didn’t really feel powerful at all.”

    Yep. I thought the same thing, like, “Omigosh, it’s going to be a rush and I’m going to want to do nothing but shoot all the time and what if it turns me into one of those weird people who just pulls the gun out all the time to show it off and i end up killing someone…”

    Turns out, I liked it because it relaxed me (go figure), and I realized that my ability to defend myself had gone up pretty much like, 75%. That’s what I like about it. It extends the reach of your defense ability so that the chances of you getting hurt in a bad situation (where you can see the threat coming) are decreased. That, to me, is totally worth the money and time spent at the range.

    Because I don’t have my carry permit yet, my gun sits in its case in the closet, with a loaded clip in a separate but accessible location should I ever need it in the home, and I don’t bring it out except when I go to the range or to clean it. It’s a tool. It took actually shooting one for me to actually *get* that.

    I’m glad you enjoyed yourself! :-)

  3. “And I felt like, with enough practice, I could have gotten good at that and enjoyed it.”

    I love those words. And I love how those words are exactly what the antis fear hearing.

  4. Squirrel Queen can shoot a rifle. When her dad was alive, he told me she could shoot the balls of a possum two football fields away when she was a teenager.
    She denies this.
    I think it’s a great story.
    I’ve actually never shot a gun. I’m a liberal, but guns don’t bother me as they’ve always been around and I have a healthy respect for them as, not my father, but my grandfather was an avid hunter.
    Incidentally, I saw a bumper sticker last week that said “I’m a Christian, I own a gun, I’m a Democrat.”
    Crack-pow indeed.

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  6. I want to shoot a gun, too! I never have, which is kind of shocking since I grew up in rural Tennessee. I went to Turkey shoots and skeet shoots with my dad as a kid, but never got to participate. I feel like I need to do it because, frankly, guns scare the shit out of me. We went over to a hunter-friend’s house last night and he suddenly grabbed this rifle that I hadn’t noticed that was leaning against the wall and showed it to us and was telling us something about it that I don’t remember because I was totally terrified. It wasn’t pointing at me, and I’m sure it wasn’t loaded, but they just make my hackles go up and I feel death nearby or something. Anyway, I’m insane. Maybe if I shot one I’d be less afraid. I love Emily Dickinson’s poem “My Life Had Stood– A Loaded Gun.” Maybe I can overcome my fear through the power of cool metaphors. :)

  7. Dr. J, i hear good things about the NRA’s basic firearms classes. i keep wanting to attend one, but none seem to be held near me. i have my reservations about the political activities of the NRA, but their firearms training and education seems to be top-notch from everything i’ve seen and heard.

    (hey, another thing that conscripted military service could do for the nation; cure some people of that kind of paralyzing fear of guns. nobody should have to be that scared of a piece of steel. guns need to be treated carefully, sure, but if teenage recruits can be taught to do so safely, they’re not the end of the world. carrying an AK-47 didn’t kill me… kindof wish i could afford one, actually, they’re neat little rifles.)

  8. One of my cousins did the NRA course — he swears by it. He says that one thing he appreciated about it was the emphasis on situations in which using a gun would make things worse (i.e. don’t be an asshole just because you have a gun). Which, obviously, is hardly the line they take on their political side, which suggests that there’s nothing a gun can’t improve. He said they didn’t get political at all during the training.

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