Showing posts with label Fascist. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Fascist. Show all posts

Sunday, November 27, 2011

An Open Letter To The Idiot With High-Capacity Gun Magazines


Dear "Rookie",

I love firearms, weapons, things that go "boom." You really don't understand how much admiration I have for these things, you really don't. Not in an obsessive, right wing, I-feel-the-need-to-protect-myself sort of way, but in an appreciation of the devastating power these instruments project. It is not unlike the admiration a storm chaser experiences staring down a tornado or, on a grand scale, flying into the eye of a hurricane.

One would expect such appreciation to close my eyes to the fact that the United States leads the world in gun violence. Truth be told, I am used to this fact, not unlike the fact that my nation does not have universal health care unlike other nations. But just because that's the way things have always been done, that does not make what has been done inherently a good idea.

The Second Amendment to the Constitution of the United States, or "right to bear arms," is almost a mantra to gun owners. Like a mantra, it is uttered in reverence, in motivation, in deference and also indifferently when confronted with the dark side of this coin. For every "law abiding" citizen who enjoys this right, there are other citizens with less intent to abide the law who enjoy the right. Still, many gun owners will say that this only reinforces their need to own a firearm. Multiple firearms, in strategic locations around the house. But that's just not enough for some, which brings in the issue of high-capacity magazines. Some argue that the magazines give a person an edge in defending themselves, but there are others who'd disagree. I'm more than certain Sen. Gabrielle Giffords can vouch for the fact that high-capacity gun magazines aren't the best thing anyone can own.

I can definitely say on my end, that the ownership of high-capacity magazines is foolish and pointless. It didn't impede the Virginia Tech shooter from gunning down 32 people. High-capacity magazines don't make you look badass, or cool, or even remotely proficient in the use of firearms. To those of us who know how to handle our steel, you look like a novice, an amateur or as they say, "a fuckin' rook." I've seen you, you lover of extra rounds on the range. I'm the guy firing center mass with less than an inch difference between shots. Yeah that was me, the guy who rolled his eyes and refused to talk to you. You're an embarrassment to true marksmen, and that M4 you painted pink with a Hello Kitty face on the stock for your girlfriend? Alright, yes, that was cute and I'm probably going to buy one for my girl, but my girl doesn't need more than a 15-round magazine. Meanwhile I got a good giggle out of watching her freak out when an expended shell landed on her jacket.

If my words have not deflated your desire to run out and buy a 50-round drum magazine for your AR-15, then remember this: Learn to fucking reload. Because if you can't take the guy down with the 15 you already have, you may as well point the business end of your nickel-plated sissy pistol at yourself; that's the only head-shot you'll ever score.

Respectfully (I guess?),
Rey Ignatius Fawkes

Monday, October 24, 2011


Dear Nutrition-Fascist,

Hello, it's Rey, the guy you said shouldn't be in such good shape given the fact that he smokes, drinks and puts gravy on everything? The fella who can (and will) smoke your ass in sprints or any other physical challenge you throw at me?

Yeah it's me, and I've got a proposal for you...

Normally, I'd tell you to eat a dick, but this time I've got something special cooked up. Cooked up especially for you; it is bacon. Yes, cut-from-the-hog, thick-cut, applewood-smoked bacon. An entire plate of bacon, from me to you, bitch. I wish to force-feed you bacon through a funnel. Like bacon water torture (bacon-boarding?)

Lets be honest, I didn't like meeting your ass that morning while I was on that business trip. I enjoy business trips, and you tried to wreck it for me. This affront to my business-trip happiness will not go unanswered. Especially considering you are, to put it lightly, overweight. Pardon me if I may seem rather untoward and vociferous, but I am confident in the fact that you'll understand my next question, since I know I'm not too "ghetto":

How in the fuck a fat bitch like you thinks she can roll her jello-ass in and tell me how to eat? I should have cut some bacon off your back for that! Seriously, what makes you think you're even fit (no pun intended, well, maybe a little) to do so? Were you the butt of a joke? Did you lose a bet? Did you not think someone besides myself would react this way? That's like a Victoria Secret model lying face-down,ass-up with no pants on at Tiger Woods' house and expecting NOT to get fucked!

...'cause she's getting fucked, no way around that...

Before you carelessly use the excuse that you're "recovering from food addiction" as I was recently informed, let me just say that I have seen the face of addiction. I've known alcoholics who would boil down aftershave to get at the sweet alcohol that lay within, and heroin addicts who shot up in some of the most incomprehensible body parts (here's a hint: their fucking cock!). When you don't care about the quality of what you're getting so long as you get it, then you're "qualified" to call yourself an addict. I don't see you fishing around a dumpster to get at a Big Mac, so please spare me that load of bull.

I hope this letter speaks to the part of you that know's to hold itself accountable, or drives you to the brink of sanity; either/or.

Sincerely,
Rey Ignatius Fawkes