G.D.K.P; P.K.P.!


My favourite film actor is Charlton Heston, with possibly Clint Eastwood and Orson Welles coming joint seconds. In his field of excellence, few can compare with Charlton for both the range of roles he played, and the emotions he passed across the screen to the viewers. But, as with many movie heroes, he has a favourite subject; and for Mr. Heston, his is on the subject of Gun Control. Who has not seen the famous clip where he brandishes a rifle whilst declaiming, “From my cold, dead hand!”? If he had not waved that weapon around whilst making his speech of defiance, he might, just might, have made a few more converts to the cause of the defence of the Second Amendment. These days of course, speeches such as that one are classified as ‘Top Spin’, and filed away in memory as the time when Mr. Heston came down a bit in some fans’ expectations.

From about five milliseconds after the news of the Colorado cinema ‘Batman’ shootings took place, the ‘Spin’ merchants commenced selling their bullshit across the radio waves, the web pages and the print pages of the West. Its all too obvious that the great stress placed upon the ‘facts’ that both guns and the enormous quantity of ammunition were ‘legally purchased’, is being targeted to a single goal, and that goal is the smallest chink in the so-far impenetrable wall placed around America’s Second Amendment.

The whole realm of liberal and anti-gun thinkers and legislators must be having wet dreams on the hour and every hour at the very thought of launching yet another attack upon the one American ideal which has proved impenetrable to their wheeling-dealing and blandishment; namely the right of every American, providing he has obeyed the Law, and has no warrants outstanding, to arrange the purchase and delivery of enough portable hardware to commence a private war on his neighbours.

I carried a revolver for around ten years, during the time I spent in South Africa, but once we returned to England I had no need, primarily because we live in a Society which, for the greater part, was crime- and violence-free.  Apart from Cloud-Cuckoo Land, which of course is otherwise known as Northern Ireland, the general population had no need to routinely check who is either knocking on their doors, or following them down the street; because we obey the Law. Not so much these days, partly because the police themselves have become so politicised that many believe that Justice is reserved for Guardian readers! (But I digress). I carried a gun because I lived in a truly violent country, where life was cheap, and I was fairly certain that my life, as well as my family’s life and well-being, ranged much higher than some scum who thought he deserved my money or my possessions.

Consider the following tale, and then make your mind up about how dangerous life was in South Africa. My friend’s wife ran a bakery in Cape Town, and the staff all had to travel very early to commence work on time. This particular staff lady, on a Saturday, had to catch two buses, with a walk through an overgrown area of scrubland between the two buses. It was dawn, and she walked as briskly as possible, because the area was known to be dangerous. She came into a small clearing, and she saw maybe four or five young men leaning up against trees. She marched bravely towards them, and called out ‘”Morning” in Afrikaans. As one, the young men replied, “Morning, Mother,” and she passed by safely. Some ten minutes later, another early-morning worker walked into that same clearing, and lost his life as he was stabbed some ten times over a total of Fifty Cents from his pocket!

Don’t tell me what I have to do to protect mine, and I won’t tell you what to do to protect yours.

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