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[personal profile] hailthenarc
For a few months in my life, I lived with my Uncle and my Aunt in their house while I attended college. It was close by, I needed a house, and my aunt was desperately in need of someone that wasn't her husband in the house to stave off the encroaching insanity, so I willingly volunteered to live there with her. I say this like it was a hard thing to do, because it was. My aunt is a delightful human. She's wonderful, a saint. A little cracked, got some weird ideas about demons living in my brain, she thinks God is sitting in heaven with a sniper rifle waiting for someone to fuck up but other than that, a perfect human.

It was my uncle who was the problem. My uncle, who we will just refer to as 'uncle', had some interesting, similar beliefs along with aunt. Like that it was totally okay, if not expected, for an average, non-military or police human being living in rural New York in a relatively densely populated area, to own and use a goddamn AK-47 assault rifle. Because that's fine, right? He told me that I wasn't allowed to mention this gun to anyone else and that it was the worlds biggest most well kept secret. I feel it prudent to mention the only reason I brought it up was that I kept tripping over the damn thing because he left it in the middle of the floor. Just literally, all the time. No cabinet, no locks. Just there propped up on the floor and if he wanted to pretend it wasn't there he'd put a blanket on it. This is, of course, how we all hide our secrets, we either put them under our mattress or we drape a quilt over it and loudly proclaim we have no idea what everyone is looking at.

But whatever, uncle. I'll pretend the AK-47 human lawnmower doesn't exist. I'll deal with the no alcohol thing too, up until it means 'no cough syrup'. Uncle, what kind of slavering, gibbering drug maniac do you think you'll turn into if you have a medicine cup of cough syrup? I wasn't allowed to have cough syrup either, lest I fall into the heathenish evil ways of alcohol and chug the entire bottle of cough syrup in a violent, booze induced rage. Mouthwash was out for the same reason, because we're all just one gargle and rinse away from being hairy dirty hobos cannibalizing our fellow hobo's faces and living in Sears boxes.

Okay uncle.

I would like to think I tolerated uncle very nicely, until the day uncle told me that he didn't like the fact that I was mentally ill in his house. Specifically, he didn't like the fact that I took medication for the mentally ill in his house. Now, here was uncle's rationalization for kicking his poverty level college student niece out of his house: If I stayed in his house... the government would take his guns.


Now, it's moments like this that make me feel as if the people who talk to themselves aren't actually the craziest people you've ever met. I talk to myself, and in doing so, I learn things about myself. Things like 'wow, if I say this thing right here, I sound completely, totally, and absolutely butt gargling insane!'

Uncle never had that moment of clarity. Uncle never sat down with himself, and discussed the matter of our Governor personally sending a SWAT team into his house to repossess all of his shooty toys because the 24 year old girl in his house takes a pill. Uncle never ran this idea over in his head, thought about the amount of other, far more crazy people living in New York, all the crimes and drug rings, and arsonists and rapists and underfunded schools and terrorists and actually real crimes going on in New York, and thought 'Maybe this isn't as big a thing as I thought.'

Nope, no definitely the bald guy with a bad back in upstate New York living with a sad 20 year old is top priority for our local government, send a SWAT team, a tank, three helicopters and every man in the NYPD to descend upon his house and steal away all his guns.

Why would you need a military assault rifle in Upstate New York anyway? What on earth do you think is going to happen? What goes through your mind, what happens to get you to that point? You know what the most dangerous person we commonly have in Upstate New York is? Crack and Heroine addicts. You know who also doesn't have a lot of money, forethought or weapons? Crack and heroine addicts. If a crack addict breaks into your house, he's probably ninety pounds soaking wet. Why? Because he's a crack addict, that money doesn't go into non essential things like food and a gym membership. We're lucky he put on pants for this endeavor, if he even has pants at all, because you cannot smoke pants. Or underwear.

You also cannot smoke a really cook high powered gun, so chances are cracky is going to sneak in brandishing anything he can pick up in the house. Like an ax or a butcher knife. Crack addicts are also not well known for delicately planning and executing a break in. Here's a list of other things crack addicts aren't good at:

Literally anything including holding still, speaking English, walking in a straight line and being immune to bullets.

They're really bad at that bullet thing.

Actually, it's proven it doesn't take a bazooka to the face to kill a crack addict! Like a gun will work! One gun, a shot gun or a hand gun will kill your average naked house breaking crack addict in literally one hit. One hit! One bullet and then you can sit down and call the cops and that's the end of Cracky's grand house burglarizing adventure!

Why an AK-47. We don't live in Mad Max. There aren't roving bands of violent, depraved rapists with cannons strapped to their cars who are going to show up at your house and demand all your food and women. Al Pancino hasn't been secretly plotting to destroy you, and yes, probably cause ends at 'decapitating another person by the sheer amount of bullets you shot at him'.

That's what a crazy person would do.

'The government will take my guns', he may as well have told me I have to leave because the lizard people can smell my blood. That is literally, just as sensible as the government taking his guns, and probably a lot more likely.

'No I need these anti-aircraft guns. For the lizard people.'
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