Mother And Child Reunion

Manfully they are struggling, there in the United States Senate, to craft some sort of gun control bill. One that will be something more than a bad joke, but that also will not compel the Cro-Magnon contingent to set fire to the place.

This morning came news that two senators with serious ties to Cro-Magnonism had emerged with a background-check bill that is said i can haz gunzto have a prayer of passing.

That would be Joe Manchin III, Democrat of West Virginia, representing a state so riven with racist retroverts that 40% of the Democratic voters in the 2012 presidential primaries cast ballots for a Texas prison inmate, rather than that monstrous black man in the White House. And where apparently The Thing To Do is to prance around on a television show nakedly celebrating your essential yeehawness, until you “go to heaven” upon reeling out of a bar at 3 a.m. to carbon monoxide yourself getting your SUV stuck in the mud.

Then there is Patrick Toomey of Pennsylvania, home of the glow-tombs of Three Mile Meltdown, and doctors so disabled by a demented variant of Jeohvahism they would prefer that young women be corpsed on a slab, rather than use birth control. The best that can be said about Toomey is that he is not Rick Santorum, the batshit insane grub-in-a-skinsuit whom Pennsylvania voters previously heaved into the Senate.

In any event, the Manchin/Toomey Cro-Magnon-friendly “compromise” would expand background checks for purchasers of killing machines to gun shows—where a certain form of human goes to get theyself a new gun, while also pausing to fondle collections of swastika belt-buckles—and the intertubes, where currently humans can order theyselves a passel of pistols, while meanwhile masturbating like a monkey.

These provisions are Sane. Also Sane is a requirement that these sales be subject to record-keeping.

But, alas, in order to secure votes from a sufficient number of Cro-Magnons, there are some Manchin/Toomey items that are Not Sane: such as exempting from any checks or record-keeping the transfer of killing machines between family members.

Because, lord knows, nobody would want to Know if doomsday prepper Nancy Lanza decided to shower some more guns on son Adam, blazing away at targets down there in the basement, obsessively killing people on his Call to Duty video screen, dreaming of the day he too can become a fully authorized Semper Fi serial killer in the United States Marines.

Which is exactly what happened.


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When I Worked

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