By Eddie Griffin
Friday, June 27, 2008
Now I am the one disappointed with a Supreme Court decision. While John McCain hey and haw over the Court’s decision to give the accused terrorist the right to defend themselves, I bemoan the lifting of gun bans, giving everybody the right to shoot it out. If you are a black, male, ex-offender, you are just at the mercy of handgun owners, who have the instant power to make a life-and-death decision of the spot.
Eddie Griffin could care less. Who has guns? How many guns they have? I could care less as long as they keep them pointed the other way. I don’t take to kindly to being shot at. And, Texas has been notorious for its gun-tooting shootouts and drive by shootings. It is the birthplace of the Wild West. The Supreme Court’s decision simply re-opened the days of men carrying six-shooters on their sides… that is, all except black men.
A black man with a gun is going to go to jail, permit or no permit. GO TO JAIL: DO NOT PASS GO. Jail first, ask questions later. Wherein, everybody else is given the benefit of the law.
So, the public shooting gallery is opened to everyone, except black men. As a black ex-con, I do not even have the right to a gun to defend my home. I am at the mercy of the armed burglar.
But I do have a right to defend my life, which is why I learned how to kick a gun out of anybody’s hand, except a “trained officer”.
Now let’s look at the need to “bear arms”.
No middle-American family wants their child to find the family’s handgun. But Columbine taught us something. Virginia Tech taught us something. And, we are still learning the terrible truth about gun violence. We can go on and on about these unexpected and unintended consequences of gun possession.
But there is this fretful public argument about “protecting ourselves against criminals”. Are you kidding me? You have need of being protected from yourselves. America doesn’t even understand the workings of “the criminal mind”.
The criminal is not a criminal if he does not commit a crime. This is the way the criminal mind thinks. To him, a gun is nothing more than a trophy, with no criminal intent behind it, until the trigger itch his finger. And, every gun owner seems to have that same itch, that desire to use it, and that secret desire to kill somebody with it.
I never saw a gun that I did not like and did not use in the commission of a crime. Just having it begged for its use, otherwise, no gun, no crime… not even the thought.
Now comes the “criminal intent” part, where people reason: He knew within his own heart, before he did it, that he was going to commit a crime … premeditated and deliberate.
But gun crimes follow the Law of Spontaneity. Opportunity opens the door to crime.
A gun gives a man an advantage over his surroundings and the people in it. Any or everybody can become a target. (Some criminal minds look at targets as a shoot gallery) It just depends on the circumstances as to when a criminal will strike.
As long as a potential “criminal” don’t jump at the opportunity, no crime will occur. So, a potential criminal goes about his business as a law-abiding citizen, until “that” opportunity comes along.
I agree: Hand guns for protection of home and family is a protected Second Amendment right that should be afforded to all citizens, barring ex-offenders and mentally unstable. Gun safety is a head-of-household responsibility. (In other words, big brother doesn’t shoot little brother).
The gun must remain in the possession of the family as an heirloom and never be re-sold. All guns should be traceable to its purchasing source, and the owner held responsible.
The only way a black ex-con is going to get a gun to use in the commission of another crime is by stealing it from a burglarized house, or from gun dealers moonlighting from the trunk of their cars. (Been there, done that, and got the t-shirt).
Criminal Mind Thinking
If you shoot me, I refuse to bleed, because I am too mean to die. I feel no pain, because I grew up in an abused family, half-hungry, crack-head mama, and an alcoholic daddy. You can’t kill me, because died already, a hundred times. I am my own worse nightmare that grew up to almost adulthood. I stop hurting inside a long time ago, when the tears dried up. You can’t kill me.
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