August 31, 2018


This morning, in light of recent events, Bobbi replied to my “I’m headed out” with “Do you have a gun?”

She was asking out of genuine concern, and so I did not reply sardonically with “I’m wearing pants, aren’t I?” or “Am I in the secure area of an airport?”

But I’m not carrying a gun because I’m afraid. I’m carrying a gun because carrying a gun is what I do. If I’m dressed, there’s a Gen4 Glock 19 on my person, whether I’m at home or out and about.

I carry a wallet in case I need to buy something. I carry a flashlight in case I need to see something. I carry a knife in case I need to open something. And I carry a gun in case I need to stop someone from trying to grievously harm me.

This doesn’t mean that I walk around thinking everyone’s trying to grievously harm me, any more than it means I think everyone’s a dark place that needs a flashlight shone on them.


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