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They say that Louis XIV had the inscription Ultima Ratio Regum cast into all the cannon of the French Army. It means “The Ultimate Argument of Kings,” and that always struck me as one of the most honest and up-front things any ruler or would-be ruler ever said. “We can dress it up prettier than this, but when it comes down to the unvarnished truth this is what it’s about: You’ll do as I say or I’ll send my goons to kill you.”
I thought about that for a long time. If there’s an ultimate argument, it seems only logical that there must be an ultimate answer. For years I thought the ultimate answer must be the bullets in my rifle, but it never seemed quite right. I’ve got bullets – he’s got frigging Cannon Balls. I mean, if there were three hundred million rifles throwing bullets at him, then maybe. But we all know that’s not going to happen. So if there’s an ultimate answer to his ultimate argument, it sure as hell ain’t bullets.
It finally came to me – and that’s when I abandoned the city and most of my stuff, and gave all that was behind me a good stiff Randian Shrug.
The ultimate answer to kings is not a bullet, but a belly laugh.
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Previous OPSEC Violations
AGGGGG!! Finger in the trigger indiscriminately! He loads it and then is pointing it all over the map!
Too painful to watch.
He needs a little remedial time with Cooper’s rules.
Back in my NTI days, guys like this were known as Gear Queers. Most of them couldn’t shoot very well and their gear routinely failed to function at the worst possible times. The only weapon you possess of any consequence is your brain. Everything else is optional.
Quick, get these into the hands of the enforcement thugs, along with that “double-Glock” thing. And for godsake make ’em full auto.
With that much plumbing hanging off the chassis, it seems inevitable that a sufficiently gonzo “operator”* would eventually grab the wrong handle…