So here’s this lady who gets depressed and suicidal. I’ve very sorry to hear that.
No, seriously, I can almost relate. Having gone through some bad stuff from time to time in my life, the question of whether I wouldn’t be better off putting a shotgun under my chin has occasionally occurred. I never did it, obviously, because I’ve never reached any point where there was no hope that tomorrow might not be a better day. But to that extent, I can sort of understand where she’s coming from.
Except – and here’s where we part company so abruptly I may need to be treated for whiplash – her solution to fighting her suicidal compulsion involves punishing me.
Please take away my Second Amendment right. Do more to help us protect ourselves because what’s most likely to wake me in the early hours isn’t a man’s body slamming at my door but depression, that raven, tapping, rapping, banging for relief.
I have a better chance of surviving if I never have the option of being able to pull the trigger.
Huh? Wait.
Let’s set aside the notion that there’s something called a “second amendment right.” There isn’t. The right to keep and bear arms so transcends the constitution as to reduce that document to irrelevancy. This lady doesn’t own a gun. There is no serious law anywhere in the land mandating that she must own a gun, or any other weapon. If she wishes to remain helpless, she is perfectly free to do so. By her own testimony she has done so. Living where she does, there is absolutely no possibility that she will impulsively go out and buy a gun for the purpose of offing herself.
So by any conceivable standard, she is safe from suicide by her own gun. Okay, if that’s what she wants. I’m not going to sneak on to her porch and shove one through her letter slot.
But that’s not good enough for this pathetic woman. No. Some day in the future she might buy a gun, and apparently that frightens her. So I must lose the ability to exercise my right, so that she will feel safer in her own head.
Lady. All I can say is, nooses and gas ovens and bottles of sleeping pills. Cars in garages and the ledges of tall buildings. Razor blades with a warm bath and a bottle of wine. Consider being afraid of these things instead, and leave me the hell out of it.
H/T to Ann Althouse.
You know, these post is rather creepy dark good.
“…nooses and gas ovens and bottles of sleeping pills. Cars in garages and the ledges of tall buildings. Razor blades with a warm bath and a bottle of wine….”
Sung to the tune of “These are a few of my favorite things!”
gfa
What a pathetic pile of pink slime. She hardly qualifies to be called a woman at all…
Interesting suggestion, Guffaw. Lemme try:
Nooses and ovens and things with sharp edges
Cars in garages, tall buildings with ledges
Sleeping pill bottles dispense more than one;
These are the reasons you don’t need a gun.
Swimming pool bottoms and bags made of plastic
Blow dryer bathtubs and bands of elastic
Some risky practices normally fun;
These are the reasons you don’t need a gun!
When you’re lonely
When your dog died
When you’re feeling blue
Please try to avoid all these dangerous things
Because they can all kill you!
If she’s so afraid of guns and the mere possibility that some time in her poor pitiful depressed life she might buy one and off herself, she might want to stay away from the annoying Tangerine Kitty song that lists Dumb Ways to Die…it might give her ideas. Oh, and stay away from the Hello Kitty bubble guns too…those are so dangerous that 5 year olds get suspended just for talking about them!
Oh, and what ML said!
What a spectacular version of the song Joel
Just to update y’all…apparently modern cars burn so cleanly the exhaust can’t be used for suicide very easily anymore.
The passing of another grand tradition. Guess she’ll just have to jump off a bridge…
Do love the song, Joel.