You’re snug in your cabin in the mountains outside of Big Bear, California. Snug, but fearful. They’re searching for a killer near you. A terrifying, heavily armed former cop from Los Angeles who has gone on a killing rampage.YES.
Suddenly you hear gunshots. You part the curtains to look outside ... and there’s the man whose picture you’ve seen countless times on TV over the past few days running toward your house as he returns fire to police officers in pursuit.
Just a few weeks ago you had been considering buying an AR-15 just in case it might be needed to defend your home from predators of the two and the four-legged variety. They don’t call the place Big Bear for nothing. You couldn’t buy one, though, because private ownership of these weapons had been outlawed. That didn’t stop the killer. He was carrying one ... that along with several pistols. The law didn’t seem to deter him at all. The murderer was still far enough away that you could stop him with one shot through your window, but that option had been taken away by anti-gun zealots.
Somehow you don’t feel comfortable with only your handgun and it’s seven-shot magazine to protect you from this approaching danger. You know the killer, who is rapidly nearing your door, is much more heavily armed than you. Things aren’t looking all that rosy for you and your family right now.
Why did this have to happen? Why were these liberals -- these Democrats -- so hell-bent on reducing your capacity to act in your own self-defense in a situation just such as this?
Interesting question, isn’t it?
Other places where I have once been snug and then cowered in fear as an insane cop stalked me while I only had seven bullets and my trusty handgun between me and certain death:
- My old Kentucky home
- My Little Grass Shack in Kealakekua, Hawaii
- My bunker
- My duck-blind down by the lake
- My treehouse where the girls aren't allowed
- My orbital death platform
- My fort that I made out of the kitchen table and a bunch of chairs and a whole lot of sheets