“Wolverines!”

There are some welcome ideological surprises lurking within the script’s 104 pages.  Shockingly, Hollywood actually seems to accept the premise that if the Chinese and Russkies invade the United States we are justified in fighting back with hot lead instead of teach-ins and choruses of Kumbayah.  But the script also displays a bit of the moral illiteracy we’ve come to expect from the Hollywoodoids – naturally, the script has to imply that we kinda brought the invasion on ourselves and that resisting tyranny somehow means becoming just as bad as the tyrants.

The re-imagining of Red Dawn will be released later this year and does very little actual re-imagining of the original’s simple plot.  We first meet some all-American teenagers.  They play high school football, party, and talk and look like CW series cast members – not real bright, but pretty (the pretty part in the script).  For some reason, the Soviets (replaced here by the Chinese with a Russian assist) invade America and seize their hometown.  Their town’s tactical significance appears to be that invading it advances the plot.  Anyway, the teenagers go up into the mountains, score some of the firearms our prescient Founders ensured we’d always have the right to keep and bear despite the best efforts of those gun control-loving wusses, and launch a bloody guerrilla war against the invaders. 

Sure, that sounds awesome in theory, but John Milius’s original Red Dawn was – well, let me be diplomatic – probably one of the silliest movies ever made.  And I loved it.  When you combine killing communists with unbelievable camp – like the teen warriors’ giggle-inducing battle cry of “Wolverines!” and Harry Dean Stanton’s memorable scene that ends with him hollering “Avenge me!” – and then add some beer, you’ve got one hell of an awesome time at the movies.  In the quarter century since its release, it’s inspired a cult following.  A young captain even adapted the title as the name of the Army operation that rounded up the late, unlamented Saddam Hussein.

Now, I’m not here to evaluate the aesthetic worthiness of Carl Ellsworth’s script.  I’ll leave that task to someone with the expertise to properly critique its unique aesthetic qualities – like noted reviewer Hackey von Hackenheimer.  I will say that Ellsworth must have sat through a few of those screenwriting seminars because you can set your watch by the predictable action beats (“Hmmm, we’re three quarters through the script, so time for Act III to begin:  {*types into FinalDraft 8*} ‘MCGUFFIN ENTERS and provides motivation for climactic battle sequence.’”)

Let’s just say you won’t walk out of the theater feeling that your prior conception of what “cinema” is has been radically redefined.

—–

Of course, there’s no Patrick Swayze here.  Boo.  And the new Red Dawn also unforgivably omits the cry of “Avenge me!” in favor of a much lamer substitute.  Those interested in specifics of the plot, such as it is, can peruse this spoiler-filled synopsis.  As John Nolte memorably put it, we’re here to spot the liberal sucker punches for you, not to reveal fanboy-centric plot points like whether Boba Fett’s helmet will be dented on the right side or the left side.

The hero is Jed, probably because Hollywoodoids think everyone who lives east of the I-5 is named “Jed,” or possibly “Zachariah” or “Cletus.”  Jed is a 22-year old Marine who has come home after fighting in Iraq.  I guess the fact that he’s not portrayed as a raving psycho counts as something like progress.  The script’s view of Iraq is ambiguous, as demonstrated by Jed’s exchange with a local hick who incoherently swings between gung ho belligerence and neo-isolationist cliches. 

Returning vets do get into those kinds of conversations, but it’s usually with Blue State quarter-wits sounding off with Mother Jones talking points.  Whatever – we should just be grateful Jed doesn’t launch into a speech about how Bu$hitler lied and his buddies died, or how Dick Cheney, in association with the Carlyle Group, hid WMDs in oil wells to raise Haliburton’s stock price.

There are a couple of nice scenes.  Early on, the escapees get to a cabin and decide to arm themselves with the firearms stored there.  The script does not see this as odd or unusual – it rightly assumes that every American should always ensure his or her ready access to weapons in order to be able to do their duty and defend their society in time of emergency.  However, the cabin’s owner had failed to stockpile a sufficient amount of ammunition, and the script properly points out this major lapse.  All real Americans should always be ready with adequate supplies of arms and ammunition – after all, “Bang” is the sound an American makes while maintaining this country’s freedom. 

Jed trains up his guerrillas and they start killing the Chinese occupiers.  That’s cool.  Some might scoff at the notion that a bunch of armed rural folks could have any effect against a professional army.  I would note the fact that we don’t speak with an English accent and enjoy our beer cold rather than warm and by the pint.  I would also note the example of a Finnish hunter who personally took out at least 705(!) Russian soldiers, and observe that deer are harder to hit than people.  Now, the training scenes are a bit perfunctory (I’d have gone for an 80s-style musical montage myself) and the “Wolverines” go from high school kids to steely-eyed killers pretty quickly – though they sure babble about their feelings a lot.   A lot.

There is also a rudimentary explanation of the theory of insurgency – Ellsworth rightly does not seem to think his kids can win by literally forcing the stronger enemy to flee by inflicting damage, rather than by forcing their departure by setting conditions among the populace that make further occupation too painful to bear.  Guerrillas who get in stand-up firefights with counter-insurgents tend to become dead guerrillas. 

And there’s a refreshing take on the proper response to those foreigners who murder Americans – the script actually agrees that you fight back and kill them.  I wish I could share the exact quote, but just seeing that sentiment on the page of a Hollywood script is a revelation.  Did someone at a Rodeo Drive bistro secretly spike Ellsworth’s Pellegrino with Awesome Coolness Pills, because Hollywood needs more of that kind of clarity and old-fashioned can-do.  I need a cigarette after reading something like that.

It’s not all awesome.  There are a couple of throw-away lines where the Chinese invasion is explained, in part, by the massive liberal-spending binge debt we owe them.  There are lots of reasons to worry about foreign debt; I’m not sure the threat of repossession is one of them.  The explanation for how the wily, inscrutable Asian enemy (and the script does portray them as wily and inscrutable) pulled off the invasion is pretty lame too. 

Also, there’s an unintentionally hilarious scene where the junior varsity guerrillas get a drop on some US commandos, the leader of which introduces himself as a lieutenant in the Delta Force.  Ummm.  Well, that bunch does not take inexperienced lieutenants.  And they don’t tell outsiders they are from “Delta Force.”  And pulling an AK-47 on one of those guys is a good way to get a 7.62mm suppository – if you’re lucky.

There are no real sucker punches, but there is at least a sucker tap.  The script really falls down on the job toward the middle, where Jed momentarily devolves into the kind of dork who spews the type of moral equivalence that might seem profound to a pampered UC Berkeley sophomore but that is, in reality, really stupid. 

He whines that because he’s using guerrilla tactics that he is now just like the jihadi scumbags he fought in Iraq.  His girlfriend Toni inarticulately disagrees.  This is supposed to be a moving moment, but it only served to move my lunch back up my esophagus.

The character of “Toni” should have smacked some sense into Jarhead Jed since the script didn’t have his drill sergeant around to do it.

You know, the audience is watching an uplifting and inspirational tale of shooting communists and all of a sudden this nonsense pops up.  Just stop.  Let’s try another example.  Nazis liked oxygen.  Hey, Americans like oxygen too!  Ergo, Hitler and Americans are the same, right?  Nimrods.  The fact that we kill bad people for killing us does not make us bad too.  For the perpetual sophomores out there, the test of the morality of a conflict is the cause you fight for; the tools you use are largely irrelevant.  American bayonet – good.  Nazi bayonet – bad.  I blame the public schools for this kind of nonsense and muddled reasoning – the “critical thinking” they purport to teach is actually anything but. 

Let’s clarify for those who remain unclear – the act of shooting, blowing up, bludgeoning or otherwise eliminating those who threaten and murder Americans is an unambiguously good thing. What al Qaeda terrorists, Taliban, Shiite militias, Republican Guards, Viet Cong, North Koreans, Nazis, Imperial Japanese soldiers and their ilk feel or felt deeply in their little hearts and warped minds about their various causes is irrelevant and unworthy of attention — except to the extent that understanding their thought processes facilitates defeating them.  Their destruction was and is a moral necessity and unquestionably morally right; their fighting Americans was and is unquestionably morally wrong.  Always.  End of story. 

Any questions?  No?  Good. 

However, the script is admirably forthright on how best to deal with American traitors and collaborators.  Let’s just say due process comes quickly and in pistol form.  That’s refreshing.  As a lawyer, I appreciate trials and such, but as someone who has known folks killed and wounded by such bastards, my perspective is different.

It’s nice to see that in Red Dawn, Hollywood is at least inching toward ideological sanity.  The Americans are the good guys.  The people trying to kill the Americans are the bad guys.  In this way, if in no other, the new Red Dawn is just like real life.

Of course, I’m hardly Rosie’s daily television show target demographic.  I work for a living instead of sitting at home staring slack-jawed at the succession of Sham-Wow commercials and ads for shyster lawyers promising big payouts for the imaginary injuries of their deadbeat clients that fill the time between inane segments of mindless yak.  And while the social parasite demographic seems to grow larger after every freebie, hand-out and pay-off the Administration and its Congressional flunkies issue in favor of their employment-averse constituents, Rosie O’Donnell still seems like a bad economic bet.

This is no longer the same country as it was back in 1999 when Rosie was honchoing her first daytime gabfest and hassling Tom Selleck over his support for the Second Amendment of the Constitution.  It’s not even the same country as it was in May 2007, when the former “Queen of Nice’s” anti-conservative bile culminated in her slandering American fighting men and women as terrorists on The View:

ROSIE O‘DONNELL, HOST, “THE VIEW”:  655,000 Iraqi civilians are dead.  Who are the terrorists?

ELISABETH HASSELBECK, “VIEW” CO-HOST:  Who are the terrorists?

O‘DONNELL:  655 Iraqis—I‘m saying you have to look—we invaded…

HASSELBECK:  Wait, who are you calling terrorists? 

O‘DONNELL:  I‘m saying that, if you were in Iraq, and another country, the United States, the richest in the world, invaded your country and killed 655,000 of your citizens, what would you call us?

She also takes particular pleasure in attacking the Catholic Church and seems to consider anyone not buying wholesale into her radical agenda against traditional marriage and adoption as a contemptible bigot.  And let’s not forget her equally insightful foray into that moronic twilight zone known as 9/11 trutherism; it completes her personal trifecta of idiocy.  

Rosie’s backers for the new show seem excited at the chance to pick up Oprah’s viewers, whose departure will apparently leave them without a reason to live.  “Those 4, 5, 6 ratings points have to go somewhere,” one told Variety. “Something’s going to come in and fill that vacuum.”

But with the President’s approval ratings in freefall, and with Congress envying the polling numbers achieved by such public favorites as Kim Jong-Il, Vanilla Ice and syphilis, it is a new world.  Rosie’s kind of aggressive, grating, in-your-face liberal stupidity may well serve to alienate a substantial part of today’s potential audience.  Her partners seem to know it too, assuring Variety that:

“If Rosie wanted to just have a platform for her causes, she would go get a show on cable news . . . .  She’s a comedian, not a political pundit.”

Except no one is laughing – her Rosie Live! variety show was cancelled the first night after scoring an anemic 5.25 million viewers, though the presence of such hip, relevant and cutting edge guest artists as Alanis Morrissette and someone/something called “Ne-Yo” probably didn’t help. 

The fact is that Rosie O’Donnell is an unpleasant, smug and actively dumb woman who is unlikely to garner anything like the following she once had before embracing her personal jihad against the most deeply held and sincere beliefs of a significant majority of the country.  The stay at-home mommies I know are too busy to sit and watch television without a very good reason, and being bitched at by a sanctimonious harpy isn’t one of them.  Oprah likes Barack Obama, but (I assume) she doesn’t spend an hour a day telling her audience that they are the scum of the Earth for not agreeing with her.  Rosie probably couldn’t resist – and watching her show would probably make the Bataan Death March look like a week at Club Med.   

So, there are two possible reasons behind the resurrection of Rosie as a daytime talk show hostess.  The first is that the producers think they can make some money by harnessing what they believe to be her undeniable audience appeal.  Perhaps that’s true, but that seems like a triumph of hope over recent experience considering the unbroken track record of audience alienation and failure that has haunted her since she left her original talk show back in 2002 as well as the increasing polarization of the American public into liberal and conservative camps.  Does it seem smart to invest in a show that at the threshold flips the bird to at least 50% of the people who might be enticed to watch it?

The other possibility is that Rosie’s aggressive lefty political stance is a net positive for her backers, and that they believe she would provide a valuable, if only intermittently coherent, liberal voice in the vast wasteland that is daytime television.  And they may be willing to suck up the potential losses in order to let that obnoxious voice be heard.

The truth is probably somewhere in between.  It’s not unknown for Hollywood to try to mix business with leftism (*cough* The Green Zone *cough*).  Of course, that doesn’t always work real well. (*cough* The Green Zone *cough*). 

Will Rosie O’Donnell succeed with her career resurrection?  No one can know for sure, but just in case, I’m keeping a crucifix and some garlic handy.

[Ed. Note: Here are Part I and Part II of this series.]

I’ve seen John Ford’s Young Mr. Lincoln at least a dozen times, but screening it here at Hillsdale College made me see the film in an entirely new light.

In one of the most lyrical passages of the movie, Young Abe, played by the young Henry Fonda, studies a book of law and comes to a revelation:

“By jing, that’s all there is to it. Right and wrong.”

But his revelation is only complete when Ann Rutledge, Pauline Moore, appears on the scene.

John Ford was deeply rooted in Catholicism and Ann’s appearance has an almost divine quality.

We see only the briefest glimpse of their courtship. There’s an ellipses and abruptly Ann is dead.

Young Abe visits Ann’s grave where he carries on a conversation with her spirit. And then the grief-stricken Abe allows Ann to decide the direction of his life—and by implication the fate of the country.

The laws of man, Ford seems to be saying, can only be known when we recognize G-d.

Take a look at the clip:

Dan Ford, John Ford’s grandson, an assistant director, production manager and producer who was active in live television for over 25 years, delivered a fine, unsentimental lecture.

The year 1939 was not only a great year for Hollywood, but that was the year in which John Ford established himself as the premier director in America with: Stagecoach, Young Mr. Lincoln, Drums Along the Mohawk, and The Grapes of Wrath.

Dan observes:

Without taking away from the magnitude of John’s accomplishment, it should be said that three of these films—Young Mr. Lincoln, Drums Along the Mohawk, and The Grapes of Wrath—were studio projects, films made on that marvelously efficient and immensely profitable assembly line called Twentieth Century Fox. The real story behind these three works is not so much John’s genius as an auteur director as his ability to work within the confines of the studio system and his volatile and sometimes quarrelsome relationship with Darryl Zanuck.

Dan Ford recognizes that Hollywood movies are a series of endless collaborations. But some collaborations yield more than others.

Dan Ford elaborates:

Judged by any standard, Zanuck was one of the most important figures in John Ford’s life. Zanuck steered him toward his greatest work, created an atmosphere that was supportive and creative, and brought the fine edge of discipline to his films. Perhaps more than any other man (and certainly more than John himself) he understood the kind of films that John was really good at. Yet, there was a considerable amount of tension in their relationship.

Zanuck insisted on a crisp pace and frequently recut Ford’s films, eliminating the slapstick humor and the broad sight gags of which Ford was so fond. Ford liked to dwell on little bits of business that slowed the pace of his films, while Zanuck, with bulldog tenacity, insisted on sticking to the storyline and maintaining a forward velocity.

Both men were stubborn and egocentric and their creative tensions yielded some of John Ford’s best work.

Dan Ford’s book, Pappy, The Life of John Ford, is a clear-eyed view of the life and work of his talented, cantankerous grandfather.  Highly recommended.

When not screening great movies and listening to erudite lectures, I had the opportunity to explore Hillsdale College and its lovely, historic campus.

I spent at least fifteen minutes gazing at this Civil War memorial.

From the Hillsdale website:

A higher percentage of Hillsdale students enlisted during the Civil War than from any other western college. Of the more than 400 who fought for the Union, four won the Congressional Medal of Honor, three became generals and many more served as regimental commanders. Sixty gave their lives.

Joe Cella, one of the many generous and courteous staff members responsible for inviting Big Hollywood to Hillsdale, took me aside and asked if I’d like to shoot trap.

Turns out that Hillsdale, which already has an excellent athletics program, is also building a world-class outdoor firearms education facility.

At Hillsdale, students put the Second Amendment into practice.

From a prospectus prepared by Hillsdale College:

In the Constitution of the United States of America, the Founding Fathers set forth the rights and responsibilities of self-government. They knew, however, that future Americans would enjoy those freedoms only as long as they understood and defended their underlying principles. Many Americans today have forgotten—or worse, have never even learned—the high ideals behind the country’s founding. Fortunately, there remain educated citizens who are aware of the subtle threats to the self-determination that is the right of every American.

The beautifully crafted shotguns were donated by Beretta to Hillsdale College.

Hillsdale College is one of only four colleges or universities in this country that require each student to take a course on the Constitution. Hillsdale students examine the Federalist Papers, read the Declaration of Independence, and study the Constitution in the context of important historical events in U.S. history. They learn that the Amendments are mutually supporting, thereby making the Constitution a “whole document” rather than a “living document.” They discover the reasoning and perspectives of the men who ratified the Constitution, giving them a deep understanding of the founding.

Here is your faithful screenwriter observing the Hillsdale College range, getting ready to shoot trap for the very first time.

Hillsdale College received an estate gift for the establishment of a world-class outdoor firearms education facility. This project creates exciting new opportunities not only to host shooting events, but also to present seminars on the Constitution to participants. This is a singular opportunity to help young people discover, and concerned adults rediscover, their rights and responsibilities as free people. Hillsdale College faculty and guest lecturers, who are among the finest constitutional scholars in the country, will teach these seminars. This initiative will help shooters and concerned citizens to develop a deeper understanding of and appreciation for the philosophical and historical foundations of their country.

I’m using a Beretta 12 gauge shotgun. The clay flies at about 40 mph, and the range is approximately 50 yards. You can see the shell ejecting from the gun. Of about 20 shots, I only hit the clay three times. It is very difficult.

Movies and firearms. It’s a wonderful life.

Stay tuned for my next installment of, Hillsdale College: The Films of 1939.

Note:  No, I do not actually think that George W. Bush was a war criminal. Even though I was undercover, I felt dirty just wearing the shirt.

I go to bed full of hate and wake up the same.  I hate blacks, Hispanics, gays, women, abortion doctors, liberals, Lefties, Democrats, you name ‘em, I hate ‘em if they’re not like me. I especially hate President Obama for being black. Just ask Janeane Garofalo, although being a Stalinist Socialist doesn’t help Obama’s cause any with me. Fact is, Obama could be a GOP Michael Steele Uncle Tom, and I’d still hate him even more than liberals hate Steele. Skin color trumps all. Thank God I was born the right color, or I’d probably kill myself. Wait, the hoods are dry! Be right back.

Where was I? Oh, yeah. Joe is my hero and role model, Archie Bunker a distant second, Ted Nugent a close third. I have posters of all of them lining my walls, alongside such conservative Republican heroes as Dick Cheney, George W. Bush, Richard Nixon, Adolf Hitler and Darth Vader.

I used to have one of Robert C. Byrd, but he lost me when he left the Klan and became the Conscience of the Senate. Whatever that means. Didn’t know the Senate had one. But I never understood that. How can a white guy in good conscience leave the Klan? But I digress.

I have a mega-gun collection and a huge stockpile of hollow-point Teflon-coated ammo that’s just itching to be used. Haven’t decided yet on which abortion doctor I’m going to target next. Maybe I’ll just go down to the border and shoot brownskins for sport. dHs, sToP mE BefORe I KilL aGAiN!

And though I really hate homos like the Good Book says I should, I spend a lot of my free time cruising aiport rest rooms and tapping footsies like Larry Craig. If I’m lucky, I’ll get some real teabagging in. If not, I’ll try to get some in at my local Tea Party. Of course, my shotgun wedding Handmaid’s Tale wife with the nice tooth doesn’t know about any of this. She’s usually home watching Jerry Falwell and the “700 Club” most of the day, and role-plays being Sarah Palin for me at night. Is that kinky or what? God, I love my wife! Would never be unfaithful to her with another woman.

As to being with other men, well, nobody in the GOP’s perfect. But it beats being a liberal! Except for the part where they get away with murder, and we get stoned for jaywalking.

Our favorite day is Sunday, named after our favorite radical fire-and-brimstone preacher Billy Sunday. We sing hymns like ‘Onward Christian Soldiers’ and wash ourselves clean in the Lord. Really necessary for me. A conservative Republican can get real dirty during the GOP workweek. Good thing my wife’s family is rich. Her toothless redneck dad gave us a beat up ‘78 Ford pickup with NASCAR and confederate flag bumper stickers and an Easy Rider rifle rack. Pride of the Bayou!

I want war. Lots of it. Want the economy to get a boost? Works every time! Bomb bomb bomb, bomb bomb Iran! Of course, in the interest of disclosure, I must confess to being a consultant for Blackwater, Halliburton, the Carlyle Group and Big Oil. And so what if we all staged 9/11? Made a ton of dough and dusted enough Islamist ragheads to fill the new Yankee Stadium, didn’t we?

Liberals are such pussies! And screw Global Warming! I WANT the world to burn! Only then can Jesus bring Paradise to earth. Speaking of which, where’s that landing strip for Christ in Yosemite National Park James Watt put on order? Days are gettin’ short! And don’t forget, Jesus is white, and might is right. I’m sorry, what was the problem with slavery again?

Actually, I have to confess yet again. All the above is only what I aspire to be, i.e. the best GOPer Repug Nazi I can be. Like most mortals, I fall far short of my goals and dreams. I don’t even own a gun or hollow-point Teflon-coated ammo, but I support the Second Amendment, which is just as bad. May as well be a co-conspirator with Scott Roeder and James von Brunn.

I detest the corrupt Mengele-like genocidal statutory rape-hiding abortion industry that needs reform even more than Iran’s government, but support a woman’s LEGAL right to choose. It’s the law. Until and unless it’s overturned, what can you do? Shoot up clinics? Ya, in my Rethug dreams!

I’m really not a bathroom footsie player, or like cock and hairy ass in general. But gay marriage is legal in my home state of New Hampshire and I haven’t been sodomized yet, so live and let live. What can I say, I’m weak. And even though as a six-year veteran I believe in General Douglas MacArthur’s axiom that “no one hates war more than the soldier,” sometimes they just gotta be fought if civilization as we know it must survive. Be it a cold war with the Russians or hot ones with Hitler and bin Laden, the dirty deeds must be done. And without quarter until victory is complete.

Fight a war to the end or don’t fight it. You can’t do both. One way assures victory, the other defeat. The Art of Fighting Without Fighting doesn’t work with the abu Musab al-Zarqawis of this world.

Worst of all? I was born and raised in Cambridge, Massachusetts. Now THAT’S a confession! How can I ever face my conservative redneck Republican sister-banging moonshine-guzzling Zionist drinking buddies at the NRSC and AIPAC again?

I put it all on the table, people. Now, if only liberal Democrat lefties would freely admit to all the world that they’re all hypocritical, mentally disordered, drug-addled, tree-hugging, America-hating, nihilist anarchist recruiting office-bombing, terrorist and dictator-loving, tinfoil hat, limp-wrist pansy spoiled brat full-grown trust fund Stalinist toddlers who couldn’t get gangbanged by the Green Bay Packers hard or fast enough (practice squads included), maybe we’ll get somewhere in this country.

I seek progress, not perfection. We can all sit down together and have one big ideological circle jerk. Get it out of our systems, you know? Hey, we’re all Americans here! Confession is good for the soul. Or your metaphysical, Pagan or Wiccan existential plane of being, depending on your religious or non-religious proclivities and inclinations.

God, I feel so good now. Got it all out. Okay, let’s hear it in the comments section now. No holding back. That includes you, Unrighteous Bubba and Cognitive Dissonant. Tell us about all the kinky things you like to do with tinfoil, Vaseline and vacuum cleaners while watching sick online German porn in your mothers’ basements

“Thing is, he’s going to kill me.”

“Have you gone to the police?”

“Yes, of course I have.”

“And what happened?”

She shakes her head from side to side, wraps her arms protectively around her chest.

“I got a restraining order against Ned, that’s my ex-boyfriend. But you know what good that is, don’t you?”

“Tell me.”

She inscribes a big zero in the air.

Five Minutes Earlier

It’s a crowded Sunday morning in the Martin B. Retting Gun Shop in Culver City.

There’s the usual cross-section of customers:

Two elderly black women, sisters, who have been robbed countless times by drug-addicts. Ignored by the LAPD, they have no choice but to buy a gun for self-defense. The women wear colorful bonnets. Yup, they dressed up to go gun shopping.

There are a couple of hunters buying high-powered ammunition; they sound like Los Alamos scientists as they discuss the exquisite physics of various exotic slugs. It’s way beyond my comprehension.

Two Marines on leave are stocking up on rugged, combat-ready clips for their side-arms. Semper Fi.

There’s also a young Hispanic apartment manager who lives in a high-crime area. His wife just had a baby—Mazal Tov!—and he wants to protect his family from the local “desperadoes.”

I’m waiting my turn.

Protagonist

And so is a young woman who absolutely sticks out in the gun shop. She’s wearing a cream colored linen baby doll with blue grosgrain trim; on her feet, pink flip-flops that pop off alabaster skin. Her hair is the color of golden Kansas wheat. Mid-twenties, she’s an iconic all-American beauty who makes me flash to memories of a truly insane childhood crush: Tuesday Weld as Thalia Menninger on The Many Loves of Dobie Gillis.

Looking as if she’s on the edge of a meltdown, she paces, glances nervously at the display cases lined with gleaming rows of pistols and revolvers. She makes a move to exit the gun shop, then returns, as if yanked by a fishing reel.

“Excuse me, do you, do you know about guns?”

She’s even got that vulnerable, tremulous Tuesday Weld pitch to her voice.

And she is talking to yours truly.

“A bit.”

“I’m terrified of guns.”

I hold out my hands as if checking for rain.

“Sounds crazy, I know, thing is—do you think the salesmen are going to be much longer?”

“There’s tons of paperwork if you buy a gun.”

Her eyes dart about, then she just looks at me straight-on:

“Thing is, he’s going to kill me.”

Antagonist

That’s when she tells me about Ned; the evil, the obsessive, the ex-boyfriend.

Ned is a stalker, a human virus who has infected every aspect of her life.

She speaks of restraining orders:

“The thing about them is that people like Ned always find a way around them. He’s there on my computer. He’s a computer guy, for Chrissakes. He knows when I start going out with a new dude and he makes sure to tell the new one all sorts of trash about me. And d’you think the dude sticks around? No one wants that level of drama. I’ve moved twice already and he always finds me. Ned’s always there. Sometimes I wake up at night, go to my window and I’m telling you he’s watching me. Hey, I’m sorry for unloading on you. You must think I’m such a loser chick.”

“It’s fine. I feel awful for you. But it’s good you’re taking steps to protect yourself. It’s admirable. Men like Ned count on women being scared and defenseless.”

She pauses. Looks down at the display of guns.

Conflict

“I can’t believe I’m here. I’ve been against guns and violence my whole life.”

I let this pass. Now is not the time for a self-righteous lecture.

Intertitle: UTOPIA IS THE OPIATE OF LIBERALS.

“Did Ned threaten you, physically, I mean?”

“Said I belong to him and no one else. That’s about it. But I know what he means.”

“What did the police say?”

“The last cop, as he was leaving, whispered for me to get a gun.”

I tell her that owning a gun isn’t sufficient. She has to take safety classes, self-defense classes. She has to know what she’s doing. From the counter, I grab a handful of NRA brochures and press them into her hands. I make her promise that she’ll sign up as soon as she gets her gun in ten days.

“Ten days?” she says.

Nodding, I explain:

“First you have to take a test, here in the store, a written test. They’ll give you a booklet to study. Then you get a certificate making you eligible to buy a weapon in California. After you purchase the gun there’s a ten-day waiting period until you take possession.”

“But why?”

“Background check. To make sure you’re not a felon, a psychopath, an illegal immigrant, a terrorist, a drug addict. It’s the law.”

Once again, she wraps her arms around her chest, as if trying to keep her heart inside her body.

“Ned’s really smart—a psychozoid like you wouldn’t believe.”

Rising Tension

I do not ask her why she went out with Ned in the first place. The answer is obvious: psychopaths are clever at disguising their pathologies. Evil is seductive.

“You’re going to be okay. I know you are.”

She shrugs, scans a row of pistols.

“Are those good?”

“Those are .45 automatics. Probably too much gun for you. I’d recommend a simple revolver. Probably a Smith & Wesson J frame, a .38. But we’ll see what the salesman have to say, they are the experts here, okay?”

She manages a thin smile, her first since I’ve met her.

“Cool.”

“One piece of advice, even before you buy a gun, and this is important.”

“Yeah?”

“Lose the flip-flops.”

She looks down at her feet, curls her toes, lacquered a hot psychedelic pink.

“Huh?”

“You can’t run or maneuver in those things. Get in the habit of wearing a good solid pair of running shoes.”

“Oh, right, right. What was I thinking?”

I lead her to the glass case that holds the wheel guns, weapons that are simple to load, easy to handle, jam-proof. And, you better believe: lethal.

She scans the display. She seems overwhelmed.

Finally, she looks up at me and says: “What’s to stop Ned from killing me in the next ten days?”

I have no answer.

Resolution, Not So Much, For This is, Unfortunately, Reality

Hours later, I tell my wife Karen about the conversation. In the background FOX Cable News is reporting the brutal murder of a pregnant woman. The chief suspect is her ex-boyfriend, an evil piece of human garbage with a history of stalking women.

“I’m terrified I’m going to wake up one day and see that she’s been murdered. Maybe I should have done more.”

“What more could you have done?”

Shrugging, I admit I have no idea.

But Ned is out there, obsessively dreaming, watching, waiting for the right moment — to make her his own.

The Cornered Cat is an excellent resource for women who wish to learn about self-defense and firearms. Highly recommended.

Copyright © Robert J. Avrech

Let me give you an example. On Sunday I was watching Fox News and one of the newsreaders was doing a piece on the drug war on our southern border. Part of this story was a short interview with the liberal New York Congresswoman Nita Lowey. Ms. Lowey hates the fact that you have the right to own a gun. Of course, she never came out and said that. Instead Ms. Lowey was faithfully reciting the administration talking points about the Mexican border drug war which includes the idea that the problem on our southern border is largely due to the Second Amendment to the United States Constitution.

Here is how the logic goes: Drug cartels are coming into the United States and buying “assault“ weapons. If we would outlaw the legal sale of these guns to American citizens the problem would disappear! You see, the Democrat logic goes, the reason there’s drug violence on the Mexican border isn’t corruption in Mexico, lack of enforcement of our existing gun laws, or an ability to control our nation’s boundaries. The reason is that you and I have the right to own a weapon that could be used to protect our home and family in a time of national crisis.

Let’s take a minute here and test your critical thinking skills. Ready? Here are some of Ms. Lowey’s statements. I may be paraphrasing them a bit as I was trying to write them down while continuing to watch the interview without the help of my DVR, but I believe I’ve captured them fairly accurately.

Ms. Lowey said that, “Mexican Drug Cartels are operating in 239 cities in the United States.” The idea behind that talking point is to shock and horrify you with the vision of drug lords invading the country so that you’ll be willing to give up your right to own a gun! Stop reading for a minute and think about that statement and make a list of all the things that you might question if you have functional critical thinking skills.

Here are a few of my critical thinking questions. How did these violent drug criminals get into the country? Are they here illegally? Does that make them illegal immigrants? Would their children be eligible for in-state college tuition under the Dream Act if they stay here long enough? If a policeman or border patrol agent shot one of these illegal immigrant, assault weapon owning drug dealers in the backside who would end up in prison?

239 is a very exact number which makes me think that some very exacting police and DEA work has been done to arrive at this number. What are the 239 cities? Wouldn’t these drug cartel guys sort of stand out in Provo, Utah (207th largest city in the US) or in Olathe, Kansas, (206th largest city in the US). Are they only operating in those cities? Do we know who any of these people are? If we know they are here and we know who they are, why don’t we arrest them? Are they working only with other illegal immigrants or are there American citizens involved. Why aren’t they under arrest? I could go on, but I think you get the idea. There have been a number of our laws broken already but if we could just ban these assault weapons all these other laws could somehow be enforced.

Ms. Lowey further stated that these drug kingpins. “…come here and buy weapons to take back across the border. There are 200 gun dealers near the border making a fortune.”

Do the drug dealers come in and fill out lawfully mandated paperwork? How do they get the guns back across the border? Would enforcement of our existing border laws make this harder? Are they using fake IDs? Who are the dealers they are buying the weapons from? If we know these 200 gun dealers are selling weapons illegally to drug dealers, why don’t the police arrest them? Why doesn’t the Obama Administration pull their dealer licenses and impound their inventory while we investigate who they are selling guns to? Don’t gun dealers have to keep records about who they sell to? Are all of these laws being followed?

The philosophy of this administration is grounded in that old Saul Alinsky “Rules for Radicals” philosophy to not let a crisis go wasted. Why let a little drug war go to waste when there’s a chance to limit Second Amendment rights?

Here’s my advice to Ms. Lowey and her gun hating friends, do a little more police work and get a clue! If you want to repeal the Second Amendment have the courage of your convictions and say so. Stop using our nation’s problems to foist your liberal agenda on your fellow citizens. Yes, you won the election but during that election your guy assured us that he wasn’t interested in banning guns Now that he is our President, I expect him to keep his word.

I am putting this challenge up to all my gun hating liberal friends. If you hate guns put a big sign in your yard that reads, “I hate guns and we don’t keep any in this house.” Make it easy for the gun owners and the criminals! Any takers?