“I was shot over twenty times by two different bad guys with guns, and then the police mistook me for a bad guy, and shot me a bunch too. Also, I may have shot an unarmed teen twice in the chest.”
And from The Secret Life of Walter Mitty comes the common gun fantasy of every poorly-trained and nearly-powerless man:
. . . “Perhaps this will refresh your memory.” The District Attorney suddenly thrust a heavy automatic at the quiet figure on the witness stand. “Have you ever seen this before?” Walter Mitty took the gun and examined it expertly. “This is my Webley-Vickers 50.80,” he said calmly. An excited buzz ran around the courtroom. The Judge rapped for order. “You are a crack shot with any sort of firearms, I believe?” said thWe have shown that he wore his right arm in a sling on the night of the fourteenth of July.” Walter Mitty raised his hand briefly and the bickering attorneys were stilled. “With any known make of gun,” he said evenly, “I could have killed Gregory Fitzhurst at three hundred feet with my left hand.” Pandemonium broke loose in the courtroom. A woman’s scream rose above the bedlam and suddenly a lovely, dark-haired girl was in Walter Mitty’s arms. The District Attorney struck at her savagely. Without rising from his chair, Mitty let the man have it on the point of the chin. “You miserable cur!” . . .
To be clear, I believe in the 2nd Amendment (as well as the 1st), and the 2nd Amendment is about more than the right to sporting equipment. That said, unless you are a diamond merchant, a daily carry concealed weapon makes you Walter Mitty, not Rambo, and you are danger to everyone around you.
And speaking of the First Amendment. . . .
And, of course, vice versa.