The title of this thread had me laughing before I ever opened it! Way back in the Stone Age, when I was a young E-5 in the Navy, one of my best buddies decided that 4 years were enough, and that he was going home. There were a couple of days between his discharge date and his flight to Miami, so he stayed at our place. Him, a lot of beer, and a brand-new, really sharp butterfly knife.
I came back from the ship one day to find him very drunk, and very bandaged on the couch. None of the cuts were severe, but were manifold! The visual that comes to mind is the trashcan heaped up with beer bottles and bloody paper towels.
"Guns don't kill people. Male Kennedy's kill people."