The current occupant of the Oval Office yesterday signed more “gun control” into law. It passed thanks to weak Republicans — 15 in the Senate, 14 in the House — and it’s being hailed as a “bipartisan” measure that doesn’t infringe on citizens’ rights guaranteed by the Second Amendment.
Those characterizations don’t pass The Sniff Test. It’s not about “gun safety,” nor does the new law have the slightest chance of doing what Doctor Dementia claims it will.
“God willing, it’s going to save a lot of lives,” he slurred as he signed the legislative abomination.
Bullshit — that’s not what it’s meant to do. Its sole purpose is to punish and control true Americans, the regime’s political enemies. And since timing is everything, it aims to restore what Thursday’s Supreme Court decision took away.
Have you thought about that? When SCOTUS bitch-slapped New York last week for its anti-American licensing scheme, it essentially robbed six progressive states of a tool they used to disarm law-abiding citizens. The bill signed into law yesterday throws wads of cash at states that enact “red-flag laws” — and not only is that an abrogation of due-process rights protected by the Fourteenth Amendment, it effectively raises an entire army of Karens to carry out the states’ unconstitutional infringements.
Not all states will take that bait, of course. But there will be some, otherwise Second Amendment-friendly places, that’ll sneak a “red-flag law” through their legislatures. Ohio’s idiot governor took a run at it once before, and I predict he’ll try to do it again.
And what does all that mean for you and me?
Well, “red-flag laws” mean that we have to pay attention — where we live, with whom we do business, our personal relationships, even random encounters. Behind the wheel of that Prius you just cut off on the Interstate was an insufferable Karen who saw your AR-15 bumper sticker and your Trump flag, and she got a good picture of your license plate.
Do you talk about guns with your doctor? Your therapist? Your pastor? Reconsider that.
If you think I’m over-reacting, you probably should ask someone who lives under “red-flag laws.” I’m not wrong about this.
The unconstitutional provisions of the “Bipartisan Safer Communities Act” (a ridiculous name befitting unserious legislation) will have no direct effect on most Americans’ right to keep and bear arms, at least not right away. Only time will tell how actively the fed-state junta will repress that right. But it does beg the question — if paying states to trample citizens’ due-process rights works this time, what’s next?
Stand your ground, my friends, and walk through life with the presumption of Liberty.
Deb and I met our auctioneer at the storage unit shortly after noon today. He offered us his guidance on what’s likely to sell and what not, and after he left we made a respectable dent in the piles, admittedly hampered by mid-afternoon heat.
Everything behind the roll-up doors of that 10-by-20 unit has been out of our sight for years, in some cases for decades. There’s lots of childhood stuff, both ours and the boys’, and way too many holiday decorations. Today I rifled through boxes of trinkets I’d saved for reasons since forgotten, perhaps because “it could be worth something someday.”
There’s a ton of Ohio State Football memorabilia, mementos from my motorcycling days, thousands of enameled pins and a dozen bobbleheads and audio gear and how the hell did I end up with so many hats?
We rolled away a couple of hours later with a truckload of trash, which we deposited in the dumpster when we got home. The plan is to return this week, starting early in the day (when the air is cooler) and hacking through the rest.
It’ll take a while.
One year ago today, morning storms rocked the bus. Dipstick was going through his first Cushing’s crash. And after eight weeks on the road we came to the conclusion that traveling “toadless” wasn’t working for us.
We tore up our itinerary, blew up our plans and canceled a slew of campground reservations that would’ve taken us through South Dakota. The next morning we’d begin a two-day run back to The Ozarks to begin our search for a tag-along for Ernie.
It was a big decision and a big day, one that completely transformed our journey.
Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Stay free.