Why we carry
This was sent to me by someone, and though I cannot verify it's actual existance or source, it does make sense.
The Gun is Civilization
By Maj. L. Caudill USMC (Ret)
Human beings only have two ways to deal with one another: reason and force. If you want me to do something for you, you have a choice of either convincing me via argument, or force me to do your bidding under threat of force. Every human interaction falls into one of those two categories, without exception. Reason or force, that's it.
In a truly moral and civilized society, people exclusively interact through persuasion. Force has no place as a valid method of social interaction, and the only thing that removes force from the menu is the personal firearm, as paradoxical as it may sound to some.
When I carry a gun, you cannot deal with me by force. You have to use reason and try to persuade me, because I have a way to negate your threat or employment of force.
The gun is the only personal weapon that puts a 100-pound woman on equal footing with a 220-pound mugger, a 75-year old retiree on equal footing with a 19-year old gang banger, and a single guy on equal footing with a carload of drunk guys with baseball bats. The gun removes the disparity in physical strength, size, or numbers between a potential attacker and a defender.
There are plenty of people who consider the gun as the source of bad force equations. These are the people who think that we'd be more civilized if all guns were removed from society, because a firearm makes it easier for a [armed] mugger to do his job. That, of course, is only true if the mugger's potential victims are mostly disarmed either by choice or by legislative fiat--it has no validity when most of a mugger's potential marks are armed.
People who argue for the banning of arms ask for automatic rule by the young, the strong, and the many, and that's the exact opposite of a civilized society. A mugger, even an armed one, can only make a successful living in a society where the state has granted him a force monopoly.
Then there's the argument that the gun makes confrontations lethal that otherwise would only result in injury. This argument is fallacious in several ways. Without guns involved, confrontations are won by the physically superior party inflicting overwhelming injury on the loser.
People who think that fists, bats, sticks, or stones don't constitute lethal force watch too much TV, where people take beatings and come out of it with a bloody lip at worst. The fact that the gun makes lethal force easier works solely in favor of the weaker defender, not the stronger attacker. If both are armed, the field is level.
The gun is the only weapon that's as lethal in the hands of an octogenarian as it is in the hands of a weight lifter. It simply wouldn't work as well as a force equalizer if it wasn't both lethal and easily employable.
When I carry a gun, I don't do so because I am looking for a fight, but because I'm looking to be left alone. The gun at my side means that I cannot be forced, only persuaded. I don't carry it because I'm afraid, but because it enables me to be unafraid. It doesn't limit the actions of those who would interact with me through reason, only the actions of those who would do so by force. It removes force from the equation... and that's why carrying a gun is a civilized act.
By Maj. L. Caudill USMC (Ret)
So the greatest civilization is one where all citizens are equally armed and can only be persuaded, never forced.
i dont disagree with what he says. liberals have always traditionally been for the equal distribution of misery.
Why do I carry? Because;
An armed man will kill an unarmed man with monotonous regularity.
Regarding origin, a guy named Marko Kloos claims to have written it. He says it was lifted by somebody who put the name Maj Caudill on it and also says Ted Nugent plagerized it in his book. I don't know & don't really care...
I carry because there are 7-billion people on this rock and I don't trust more than a few dozen.
Excellent post, thanks!
Actually Cane may have summed it up, paraphrased it, abbreviated it or interpreted it, but that is pretty much what is says in a round a bout way.
An excellent post.
"God created men, Col Colt made them equal." Unknown
I think this story covers a lot.
“Why Do You Carry A Gun?”
Best Of John Connor
From July/August 2005 American Handgunner
If I had a nickel for every time I’ve been asked that question, I’d have, uh … as many guns as his firearm-festooned Editorial Immenseness, Roy-Boy. It’s been asked of me by all flavors of folks in all slices of society, with attitudes and expressions ranging from angry-arrogant to curtly-contemptuous, to brainless an’ befuddled. My answers to it have sorta formed three phases in my professional gun-carrying life. During that first and longest phase, I answered all of ’em sincerely and articulately, often following up with stacks of historic and legal documents. After many years, I concluded only a semi-significant sliver of people even heard what I was sayin’. The rest had already made up their muddled minds.
Finally, I just got sick of it, and moved on to Phase 2. If those asking seemed to have teensy open spaces in their minds, I gave ’em S & A: “Sincere & Articulate.” The more harshly-bleating sheep, however, often got exchanges like this:
“So,” queried Snidely Snotworth III, lookin’ down his un-busted but needed-bustin’ nose, “Why do you think you have to carry a gun?”
“Well,” bellowed the Brutish Neanderthal (that would be me): “Because you’re not QUALIFIED to carry one. You haven’t got the skills, the judgment, the sense of responsibility, or the courage for it.”
This answer often popped out after I’d just returned from some Heart-Of-Darkness where every living soul knew that the difference between slaves and free people is having the means and determination to defend their lives, property and liberties. That meant having guns and guts and God-given rights. Most of those people would quite literally die fighting for the freedoms so many Americans casually give away, and proudly bear social responsibilities those sheeple* won’t even recognize.
Then I matriculated to Phase 3, where I started having some fun with the Snidely Snotworth types. When they asked the Big Question, I’d go all hunchy-shouldered an’ secretive, then lean in close and mutter, “Because of the voices, ya know?” “The VOICES?” sniveled the Snidelies, suddenly scaredy-cattish. “Oh, yeah, the voices … They told me to be, you know, prepared for when the killer clowns come … ” I’d furtively goggle around. “The voices say the killer clowns are comin’ … They’re cannibals, some of ’em, and … ”
About that time the Snidelies would be skitterin’ away like mice on polished marble.
Yeah, I know, the “killer clowns” answer might not have been “helpful,” but it did just as much good as giving S&A answers to the sheeple, and it was a lot more fun for me. I know you already know why we carry these cannons. But sometimes, just sometimes, we all need a little reminder. That includes me, and I’ve got one to share with you. One that got me where I live.
The Connor Clan has been nomadic, and we’ve lived in a number of places. In one of ’em, we shared a side yard and friendship with a young woman we’ll call Miss Maine, and her knee-high daughter, Little Lizzie. Miss Maine quickly bonded with the Memsaab Helena. Clearly, Helena’s Amazon-warrior spirit and skill with arms impressed Miss Maine mightily, and much of their time and talk revolved around that fierce self-confidence — and guns.
As for Little Lizzie, the munchkin almost duct-taped herself to the Mem’s leg. She followed Helena everywhere, but always, always, kept glancing back to check on her momma, as though she were the worried parent.
There was something guarded, something hurt and defensive about both of them, and that fearfulness extended to me for a while. They got over it, thank God. Then I sorta became a moving bunker for ’em, representing cover and protection. Finally, we learned the story.
Miss Maine had been attacked — brutally and viciously. You don’t wanta know the details. As with so many such crimes, it wasn’t really about sex. It was about hate and domination, cowardice and cruelty. And an even younger Little Lizzie had witnessed it. I like to think the Memsaab and I helped them to recover emotionally.
Then one day Lizzie came and snuggled into my shadow, visibly disturbed. That morning her kindergarten had put on “Frighten The Munchkins Day.” Some schools do a pretty good job of alerting children to predators — don’t go with strangers and that kinda thing — but others do more harm than good. All they do is terrify the tots and give ’em no operating options. Lizzie already had twin tears glistening, ready to fall when she grabbed a tiny fistful of my trouser-leg and asked, “Connor-Sir, will you a’ways be here? Wouldja be here … When the bad mens come?”
My knees cracked on the sidewalk as she slammed into my shoulder, shaking with sobs as the hot tears came, splashing my neck and searing into my soul. “ ’Cause I’m a-scared!” she choked, and clutched me tighter.
Oh, GOD! Who would not — who could not — fight without fear, suffer without sense of sacrifice, and kill or die deliberately, using the most effective means available — to protect life, liberty and a Little Lizzie? For God’s sake, who?
Those who would not are no better than the predators.
Maybe in Phase 4, when somebody pops The Big Question I’ll just smile and say, “For life, liberty and Little Lizzie.” You guys can fill in the details.
Some great writting, with word for us to follow. People carry for different reasons, some to protect their loved ones, some for a piece of mind, and others so they can show off. Regardless of why most of carry we have to be aware of the people that are trying to take that right away from us.
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