Click here to download the catalog as a PDF file. To view this site you need Adobe Flash Player and your browser must allow javaScripts. Go here to get the latest Flash Player. ODD ANGRY SHOT • JOHN CONNOR • “why do you CaRRy a gun?” Best of John Connor from July/August 2005 American Handgunner. f I had a nickel for every time I’ve been asked that question, I’d I have, uh … as many guns as his firearm-festooned Editorial Immenseness, Roy-Boy. It’s been asked of me by all flavors of folks marble. Yeah, I know, the “killer clowns” answer might not have been “helpful,” but it did just as much good as giving S&A answers to the sheeple, and it was a lot more fun for me. I know you already know why we carry these cannons. But sometimes, just sometimes, we all need a little reminder. That includes me, and I’ve got one to share with you. One that got me where I live. The Connor Clan has been nomadic, and we’ve lived in a number of places. In one of ’em, we shared a side yard and friendship with a young woman we’ll call Miss Maine, and her kneehigh daughter, Little Lizzie. Miss Maine quickly bonded with the Memsaab Helena. Clearly, Helena’s Amazonwarrior spirit and skill with arms impressed Miss Maine mightily, and much of their time and talk revolved around that fierce self-confidence — and guns. As for Little Lizzie, the munchkin almost duct-taped herself to the Mem’s leg. She followed Helena everywhere, but always, always, kept glancing back to check on her momma, as though she were the worried parent. There was something guarded, something hurt and defensive about both of them, and that fearfulness extended to me for a while. They got over it, thank God. Then I sorta became a moving bunker for ’em, representing cover and protection. Finally, we learned the story. Miss Maine had been attacked — in all slices of society, with attitudes and expressions ranging from angry-arrogant to curtly-contemptuous, to brainless an’ befuddled. My answers to it have sorta formed three phases in my professional gun-carrying life. During that first and longest phase, I answered all of ’em sincerely and articulately, often following up with stacks of historic and legal documents. After many years, I concluded only a semi-significant sliver of people even heard what I was sayin’. The rest had already made up their muddled minds. Finally, I just got sick of it, and moved on to Phase 2. If those asking seemed to have teensy open spaces in their minds, I gave ’em S & A: “Sincere & Articulate.” The more harshly-bleating sheep, however, often got exchanges like this: “So,” queried Snidely Snotworth III, lookin’ down his un-busted but neededbustin’ nose, “Why do you think you have to carry a gun?” “Well,” bellowed the Brutish Neanderthal (that would be me): “Because you’re not QUALIFIED to carry one. You haven’t got the skills, the judgment, the sense of responsibility, or the courage for it.” This answer often popped out after I’d just returned from some Heart-OfDarkness where every living soul knew that the difference between slaves and free people is having the means and determination to defend their lives, property and liberties. That meant having guns and guts and God-given rights. Most of those people would quite literally die fighting for the freedoms so many Americans casually give away, and proudly bear social responsibilities those sheeple* won’t even recognize. the Voices Then I matriculated to Phase 3, where I started having some fun with the Snidely Snotworth types. When they asked the Big Question, I’d go all hunchy-shouldered an’ secretive, then lean in close and mutter, “Because of the voices, ya know?” “The VOICES?” sniveled the Snidelies, suddenly scaredycattish. “Oh, yeah, the voices … They told me to be, you know, prepared for when the killer clowns come … ” I’d furtively goggle around. “The voices say the killer clowns are comin’ … They’re cannibals, some of ’em, and … ” About that time the Snidelies would be skitterin’ away like mice on polished Miss Maine had been attacked — brutally and viciously. You don’t wanta know the details. As with so many such crimes, it wasn’t really about sex. It was about hate and domination. 86 WWW.GUNSMAGAZINE.COM • APRIL 2009