A Rear, I mean Year, End Review

Nothing makes the Angry White Mom more bored than the Year-End Review spots that absolutely every media source drags out at the end of every December.  As if we were not familiar enough with the crap we have endured for the past 12 months.Those who really care about celebrity deaths already know who reached the Great Beyond this year. For the rest of us, the list is merely depressing. As for any real historic value, the belchings and  writhings of a Congress terminally ill with Obama Derangement Syndrome, now with an amazing overall approval  rating of 9%,  will be forgotten and dismissed by most Americans as a bad dream, if they give it any thought at all.
Its not that I am against looking at the past and evaluating its continuing affect on our present, its just that at this time of year is seems a bit overdone, like reheated Christmas turkey. Instead, though, I prefer to use the New Year as a reminder to look forward into obligations and potentials of the next bend in the river. I think is a much better use of my time to take the dregs of the past year and toss them back quickly, as bitter as they may be, and hold out my cup for the new brew.
Already this new year has quite a bit more going for it than last year.  First off, I am employed.  Having been unemployed for four years it is still an exhilarating feeling even after nearly six months on the job.  The job itself, as janitor at a Texas roadside rest area, is,  in a word, nasty.  The pay is pathetic. The facility is uncomfortable --hot in the summer, cold as hell in the winter. The standards are strenuous, at least for me at my age.  I come home absolutely exhausted after work, hungry and filthy. I can relate stories nearly every day that will leave you shaking your head in wonder at the low, low,  private behavior of your fellow human beings. And you know when the news broadcast says "only essential personnel" are expected to brave forbidding weather" to report to work? Rest assured that means the minimum-wage mop jockey is on his or her way through the storm to ensure an adequate supply of toilet paper and clean up the shit that somehow doesn't quite make it in the toilet. It is a job that requires me to be a trip navigator (I am endlessly amazed at the number of folks who take off on a trip and have no idea where they are going, have no map, and have only a vague sense of the shape of Texas), a tour guide (our exhibits prompt all kinds of questions about the area's history), a plumber (water pressure problems, stopped up toilets, overflowing urinals, you know, the fun stuff), and a constant apologist for every ill that plagues our state.  This last is because Texans don't often get a chance to see someone they believe is a state employee face to face. They gripe to the uniform. It's not personal.
But it is a job. And actually, I work for a contractor,  thank goodness for that.  As nasty as the job can be, my immediate supervisors go a long long way to make it at least not suck. They completely handle the really difficult stuff -- septic issues, electrical problems, maintenance chores, and have always been available at a moments notice. Of course, we handle no money, no paperwork besides our time sheets and maintenance
logs (basically your shift's to-do list). For me, it is a virtually stress free job, one that totally consumes me while on duty but that I can totally leave behind when I drive out of the parking lot at the end of the day.
And when I really think about it, no doctor, no senator, no Type A personality corporate executive, no millionaire business owner, has that luxury.I have learned this year that a nasty job with a great boss is far and away more preferable than a great job with a nasty boss.   It seems I have the ideal job, after all.
So I look forward to the New Year employed. What has already been incredibly beneficial to me physically, mentally and financially, can only continue on its way toward positive results.Will there be bumps in the road?
Well, yes. But this year I can afford new tires.

The Truth hurts. Now go wash it and put a bandage on it

On Labor Day, Not all Jobs Are the Same

How ironic that this Labor Day Celebration blog should appear six weeks into The Angry White Mom’s thirty-second career incarnation as a janitor (only and estimate). And it’s wonderful. Five or so years of unemployment has been a difficult time. My husband, in addition to being rewarded the same salary for the past eight years with no increases for cost of living or merit (well, forget merit, he works for the State of Texas, after all), has had to take on two additional part time jobs. Both are physically demanding and exhausting for a fifty-six year old heart patient with six stents and three knee surgeries.

But I digress. I am finally employed. And at more than minimum wage, which in my opinion should be eleven bucks an hour. And although it is part time my schedule is

darn near perfect for what my life demands. My supervisors are the rare specimen, real persons, who have worked harder than most for their positions, and they remember what it is like to endlessly toil for one’s daily bread.

That said, my work brings me face to, um, face, with an incredible number of people. In all my careers, I doubt I have had as much direct contact with Johnny and Jenny Public. Only two of my past incarnations come even close – the years I sang solo as well as with a trio at places like pizza parlors and military officers clubs, and the year I spent as a waitress in Houston.

And I have to tell ya, folks, it ain’t pretty. In just a mere six weeks, my experience tells me that The Public should be ashamed of Itself. The facility I serve is a public rest area, designed to help weary drivers rest and recuperate from driving the seemingly endless miles across the Texas prairies. Paid for by road taxes, the facilities are of course owned by the Texas Department of Transportation, but thanks be to my creator I work for a contractor. We see thousands of people during the week, from truck drivers to teens taking “road trips” and from senior citizens visiting distant grandchildren to foreign tourists seeking the Texas experience. We plow through voluminous amounts of toilet paper, trash bags of all shapes and sizes (we shall review some of them here in this space in the coming months, I ‘m sure), as well as gallons of cleaning fluids, gasoline and mixed fuels to keep the entire facility from collapsing beneath the weight of both nature and the trash and effluvia deposited there.

So now I am a Professionally Trained Mop Jockey. And in addition to the wages, this

job gives me a wealth of observations about our visitorsto be shared with the best application of truth that I can muster. A short list of these would no doubt include gems like: The Inability to Read Signs. The Inability to Follow Instructions. Inappropriate Gum Disposal (this one has special sub-factions).The Inability to Flush a Toilet. The Inability to Hit a toilet (this one can be divided into gender categories). The Undeniable Urge to Touch Sparkling Windows with Grubby Hands (this seems to be universal among all races, genders and ages). As a general thing, I have come to understand quite personally that there is a lot you can tell about Johnny and Jenny Public by the way they treat The Help (I loved that movie. If you haven’t seen it, you should. If you are a white woman, you need to). In fact, I suspect I have a lot in common with domestic workers. And proudly so. My brilliant 18-year old son recently reminded me that Money is just an expression of Effort, which in turn is an expression of Energy. Most rich folks collect on other people’s efforts, and other people’s energy, regardless of how much of their own personal energy they exert. When I contemplate this, I find myself wondering if say, Governor Rick Perry puts in any more effort in to his “shift” than I, or if Warren Buffet soaks his shirt through halfway through his day like I do.

While all employment is noble, not all jobs are the same. For a long long time I have believed that school teachers should be paid $250,000 a year and lawyers should earn

$8.50 and hour. Totally based on my experiences with both. In the coming weeks, I will probably diverge quite a bit from my more philosophical and political ramblings to dig

out some real nuggets of experience that this gold mine of stories that my new job

provides. And I hope, fervently, that other – former, current, and retired – Mop Jockeys

of The World will feel free to comment here.



Because the Truth hurts. Now go wash your hands, and put a bandage on it.

Zimmerman Acquital Wrong in So Many Ways

Like many of us out here in the Real World, I am sick and heartbroken over the Zimmerman acquittal. Because I am the mom of two young men, I find the significance of this trial to be particularly troubling. Really smart folks have honed in and commented on the prominent issues of racial profiling or on prosecutorial mismanagement and already so much has been said about this horrible tragedy and the relentless miscarriage of justice that has followed. But the Angry White Mom sees this rather simply. This   Zimmerman acquittal basically upholds a lot of really scary ideas that touch all  moms as scorchingly as that bullet passed through Trayvon Martin’s hoodie on its way to his heart.  It is a clear warning shot over the heads of all young men between the ages of 16 and 25.

For years—well, centuries, really, American mothers of black and brown and any mixture thereof American children have had to caution them about being around White People.  Now, most white people don’t know this and don’t care but it is the Truth and there is a long and complex history that supports this Truth. With their willful disregard of prosecution witnesses, facts, and Zimmerman’s obvious manipulation of his story, this jury of white women has just condemned children of every walk of life to the possibility of their lives becoming forfeit to the neurotic fears of another pudgy Barney Fife Zimmerman.

The Truth of it is, now every young man between on his way home on foot is subject to being accosted and interrogated by anyone who has a notion of their own superiority.  Whether that sense of being better is because of ignorance and prejudice, religious intolerance, or because of the availability of firearms, or because laws everywhere are starting to support the shooter over the shot, the effect is the same. In reality, New York cops have been doing this “stop and frisk” profiling for years now.  Other police departments are considering it as a regular thing, not just a necessary evil in times of domestic crisis. It’s bad enough, to my way of thinking, that a uniformed official can exercise the legal right to stop anybody for anything at anytime for any reason, but now this Florida jury says its okay for anybody to stop anybody.  And if anybody wants to  pick a fight with you, they have the right to shoot you when it becomes clear they are losing the fight. Somehow this is now called “self-defense.”  We probably should now call it the Zimmerman Help Help I Have a Gun Defense and attorney Mark O”Mara should hang his head in shame.

We should all hang our heads in shame. Because we all accept it, all with reasons for accepting it as varied as our own selves. I am so reminded of the great author Robert Heinlein’s observation by the timeless character Lazarus Long, “You can have peace, or you can have freedom; don’t ever count on having the two at the same time.”

The Truth is that we have traded our freedom for security, and not even real security at that, just a thin veneer of temporary safety. Whipped into a frenzy of urban fears by rabid right-wing hatemongers, we so desperately want peace from the nonexistent threats in our streets, but we are determined to stay away from tacking the hard parts like revising laws and cleaning up law enforcement. Americans  prefer to rely instead on short-term chest pounding and tears that eventually bores the press and makes politicians fidget.

Sometimes the Truth Really Hurts. And no bandage can cover the pain.

Revisiting the Deen Issue

Truth be told, The Angry White Mom has to admit that I bit down a little hard on the Paula Deen thing,
before I had all the facts, and before I had considered much of the evidence not tainted  by social hysteria.
So I am stepping back a bit from my earlier conclusions, and would like to take another chew if  you don't mind. Since the additional information released by the plaintiff in the civil lawsuit pending against Deen and her brother, I have realized that I need to explain further.  What I was trying to say actually mirrors closely
the statement the plaintiff released in that the case -- and the social issues it exposes -- is soooo much
more than Paula Deen's casual racism.  What I was trying to stress is that all of us are casual racists
simply because we are products of a racist culture.  That does not mean we should stand down on
racial equality, but it does mean that we need to focus our awareness more on the institutionalized racism that still exists in our country.  We need to dismiss and ignore the older, entrenched remnants of  a generation that has seen its demise and turn our hot glares in the direction of those still in power who seek to dismantle any progress bloodily gained since the Emancipation Proclamation. We need to tackle the bigger, harder issues with as much vigor as we do the petty Paula Deens. Do I need to list these things here?  Nah.  Because we all know we can find racist elements at the core of our voting policies, our law enforcement practices, educational opportunities, you get the drift.  As I said in an earlier post -- the Supreme Court's decision to gut the Voter Rights Act reflects the same attitude as a father who thinks his child is potty trained simply because he has not personally changed a diaper in a whilte.

If they bothered to open the tidy little package, they would find a real mess.

But I have to push back against some ultra-liberals with whom I usually find comraderie. Words are just words.  As a writer, I can easily trace the evolution of our modern American parlance that has seen the very  meaning of the words themselves change.  The word "gay" comes to mind. Back in my day, calling a woman a "bitch" was seriously insulting. Calling her a "cunt" was unheard of.  The word "faggot" used to mean a match, or a small burning stick used to light a pipe or stove before it became a derogatory term for homosexual men.  Now I hear my sons and their friends, none of whom are gay, call each other that as a matter of common everyday banter. South Park did an entire episode on this, by the way, that was absolutely hysterically funny. I could go on. "Paddy" was an insulting term to mean the Irish. Now it means
a police vehicle.  Go figure.  But count on this. American English is always changing, adapting, and
not recognizing this, and understanding that this fact is incidental to our culture, not driving it, seems rather anti-progressive to my perspective.

I certainly do not think I am a bigot.  You are free to disagree.  But I will put up my life's work in contradiction to that characterization. I am quite positive I have used racial and sexist epithets, and if I have offended anyone, I am sorry but I would hope you would tell me, -- and tell me exactly -- how  a word can  cause you personal pain. I used to repeatedly tell my young sons that old saw "sticks and stones can break my bones, but words can never harm me." They had this down pretty much by third grade. What happened to the rest of  you?

The truth hurts. Now go put a bandage on it. I did.

A Survey of Summer Schmucks -- Deen's Critics and Snowden's Supporters, an overview

I can hardly decide who has pissed me off the most in recent weeks.  I hope to sort it out here. And because it is hot as hell I am thinking of starting with the easily the loudest, just for organizational reasons. Okay, I am just putting it right out there. I feel sorry for Paula Deen. Here is a woman, a "celebrity chef," who has made a fortune cashing in on the very culture for which she is now a pariah.  How in the world is she now to shrug off the very thing she has hung her hat on? Really. C'mon folks.  Do we really believe we can sanitize for our own protection our own history?  Get real. Anyone and I mean ANYONE who is of Deen's generation, and probably one or two after, who has been shaped and formed by the American South, has at one time or another, used racial epithets. Black folks. White folks. Brown folks. Mixed race. Whatever. And yet there are people with the nerve ---and an enormous amount of fake sanctimony  ---who have judged and found her wanting in the social relations department.  Gee.  Good work there all you Sherlock Holmeses.   Personally, I dislike her for a completely different reason -- her recipies kill people. With all that fat and sugar calories you would think a diabetic like Deen, with  her supposed talent, would dedicate her life to making healthy food taste better, instead of promoting food that takes the distinctive flavors of the South and drowns them in yuck. Am I saying that racial epithets are okay? Don't be stupid.  I am just saying they are there and they remain a reminder of the fact that racism is not dead, no, not even feeling poorly, in America.

Okay, one down. And one which brings me to the second group of summer schmucks who have gotten the attention of the AWM, namely, the US Supreme Court. These idiots remind me of the father who declares his child is potty trained because he hasn't changed a diaper in a while.  Their recent gutting of the Voting Rights Act is simply unbelievable, if you believe for one instant that these rich fat white men (all the Justices in the majority ruling are men) care at all for the majority of Americans.  Their argument that racism is largely anecdotal, that certain places, predominantly in the South, are no longer racist, is either willfully ignorant or childishly naive. Casual racism is endemic in the South. Remember Governor Rick Perry's Niggerhead Ranch? Just because the name is now changed, do you think anyone has stopped referring to the location by that name? Really?  In the South, Southerners sooth their consciences in just exactly the way Lynyrd Skynyrd reminds us--  "we all did what we could do." And what southerners have done isn't  much, and certainly it hasn't been enough.  Slavery -- not just racism -- but slavery, the legal institutionalized kind, was completely the norm for more than 400 years in this country. You want to declare the end of racism, I suggest you call me after a couple more centuries of legal, institutionalized equality.

And now, for the fans of that little snot Edward Snowden.  Now as a mom, I did not always rely on
corporal punishment, because I found out relatively early that you can really make a child realize,without ever laying a hand on them, that they are not the center of the universe.   I also found out early that two and three year olds are incredibly flexible nd can twist their bodies in remarkable ways, so that it often takes a few whacks just to land a good solid smack,an exhausting and altogether unsatisfying result that leaves you open to charges of abuse by people who most likely do not have children anyway. However, the occasional butt-smack was in fact a weapon in the armory, as it were, and if I ever saw someone in dire need of a spanking, it is Edward Snowden. This narcissistic jerk lied about his qualifications and misrepresented his intentions in going to work for a security contractor in the first place, earned a six-figure salary, lived in Hawaii, and now calls himself a whistleblower. Certainly, he blows.  Just not a whistle.  What he has blown up, and  way out of proportion, are programs that were the entirely legal results of the Bush Administration's panic attack on civil liberties known as thetrio Patriot Act. His hystrionic supporters consider him to have outed the "Obama administration spying on its citizens," but most of us who have been paying attention for more than the past five minutes, already know that. Most of us also know that our internet postings -- of any type -- are not private any more than our cell phone conversations are private.  Most of us accept, like mature adults, that in this day in time we have sacrificed some liberties for security.  Most of us are far more accepting of the Government's attempts using our private information for security reasons, than we ever will be of the purely mercenary reasons used by private industry to increase their profits. And you know, I have a really hard time supporting any idiot who claims to want privacy when they shout out  personal conversations over cell phones in every public setting you can imagine except maybe church.If you believe in telecommunications privacy of any sort, then you must also believe in unicorns.  And another thing. True "whistleblowers" do so out of a sense of righteousness, of loyalty to their country even though it may be doing something awful which should be stopped.  And they stick it out  -- my country, right or wrong.  They don't take support from foreign governments. They don't flee their country.  They come out with a Truth and confront the Consequences.  Karen Silkwood  -- whistleblower.  Bradley Manning -- whistleblower.  Snowden -- self-aggrandizing, self-important, and self-deporting.  The boy needs to be turned over a knee and spanked.

Because the Truth hurts.  Now go put a bandage on it.

As the Stomach Turns....

Just a couple of stomach turning moments this week seriously racheted up my bitch levels.  First one is rather personal, so bear with me for a few paragraphs while I get this one off my chest and then I will
bite into the more public ones.
My oldest son, home on spring break from West Point, and with a fellow cadet guesting with us for a few days, his brother, dad and I were enjoying a great down-home diner-type meal at a fine culinary establishment in town. Being a small burg, a number of folks who know him, who taught him, who went to school with him -- in true classic small-town fashion, hollered greetings or waved to him as we walked in,
some motioning for him to join them at their tables for a few minutes for a brief chat. 
When he finally rejoined us, one of the town's wealthiest ranchers, vocally anti-Obama, always loudly and publicly proclaiming his partisanship, always touting his own supposed military service, always dropping names of supposedly important other rich people he knows, stopped by on his way out to announce to us all that Americans have gone and elected again A SOCIALIST.
Now I really do not care what his opinions are, nor do I give his opinions much credibility.  Having watched him over the years interact with our local officials and other parents  it is pretty evident to me that except for his having money, no one would give him the time of day.  His loud mouth, his self-insertion into other people's lives, reminds me a lot of having to deal with the babbling homeless man of the urban environrment. Or more like a political thug, lurking in the dim world of his political bubble, waiting to jump
the unwary as they go about their day.
Aside from the comedy relief aspects of his intrusion,, in a larger sense, because I realize that he is not by any means alone, I am troubled by his rudeness.  Can someone puh-leeze tell me why he feels he can intrude this way?  What on earth have I ever said to this man that gives him an invitation to choke out his putrid thoughts in my arena? It seems a peculiarity among conservatives, primarily, because I have never had anyone sit down publicly with me and loudly denouce any Republican. Ever. Even during the last years of the Bush bungle.

Fortunately, this stomach-turning insensitivity absolutely pales in comparison to the utterly revolting gutting  by Sen. Harry Reid of the Assault Weapons control aspects of any Senate gun legislation.  Good God, man!  You have the backing of nearly ninety percent of Americans, and some sixty-five percent of gun owners.  Get a frigging spine, will ya?  You cannot tell me, a gun owner in Texas, that Americans' Right to Bear Arms will keel over and die when these whiners cannot have, what is it, like SEVEN guns?
I would like to prescribe two ccs of ManTheFuckUp to our honorable Democratic Senators and
Representatives.  I  beg them all to do the right thing.

Other stomach-turning events included nearly the entire parade of clowns at CPAC. Oh man. All of them hurling up the same old vomit, all the while saying, "Look, it is kinder, gentler, more inclusive vomit."
I just have one question and would welcome just about any of the CPAC speakers to answer it:
When the Democratic Party has given us our social safetly net, access to education, access to health care, protected voter rights, WHAT EXACTLY HAVE THE REPUBLICANS GIVEN US?  Let me think,
and I am sure there are a number of things I will miss.  Hmmm.  The Iraq War. The Afghanistan War.
The Worst Economic Crises Since the Great Depression.  De-Regulation of those who authored The
WECStGD (see above).  Cutbacks in local education, local law enforcement, local health care. 

Let's look at some of the answers offered by the Republican leaders speaking at CPAC.  Sen. Rubio says our problems can be solved by "America." I have expected him to break out with West Side Story.  Rand Paul claims that its the fault of the dusty old goobers in his party.Instead of tired old racism, they need to try updated twenty first century racism. Half-Governor Palin blames Mayor Bloomberg. Trump is incomprehensible, so we'll let that go. Overall, I found myself missing Mr. Eastwood's empty chair.

I think I would rather have the flu than have this Congress. I would probably be less sick.

The truth hurts. Now go put a bandage on it.

Well, It's This Gun Thing...

Jeez, it seems like just yesterday I was pissed off at conservative rich guys, corporations and right-wing muscle.   Honestly, I really haven't had much to add to the regular ol' liberal batch of pundits's opinions, and have found it is easy to slack off when so many other folks -- much much smarter than I -- are speaking my mind just fine. In fact, it has been kind of nice to get up everyday and tune in to those few but brilliant voices, and not bother to open up my blog page and spew.  One of the side benefits is that I am less angry as well, which they tell me is good for blood pressure, overbitching, overeating and other over-ing not benificial to health or pocketbook.
But the Angry White Mom finds herself simmering lately  over the snipey stereotyping of gun owners that is currently being painted by otherwise fair and fundamentally sane people. These folks are generally of moderate and progressive perspectives, with whom I often agree. For instance, I agree that no one's right to a particular weapon supercedes another one's right to life.  Nor do I  believe anyone should have a gun unless they are licensed and registered. I certainly don't believe high-capacity magazines are covered by the Constitution. And I believe we need to close the "gun-show loophole" now, and that every prospective gun owner must pass a thorough background check.  And I strongly believe, and have contacted my elected officials on this very issue --- that the darn Congress needs to adequately fund the ATF so it can do its job, and stop neutralizing this agency with budget cuts. Recently I applauded Sen Feinstein's rebuttal to that moron Ted Cruz over his sophomoric lecture to her on the Second Amendment. And I cannot support any politician who ignores the will of the people.
Having said all that, and knowing that I do speak for many  gun owners, this morning I was listening to one of my favorite talk radio hosts who took a call from a man who was obviously passionate about more restrictive gun laws.  And, this may surprise some,  it wasn't the gun law issue that bothered me, it was the general agreement about this guy's idea that "most gun owners" (and I am paraphrasing here) want to be "George Zimmerman, to be heroes, to be the one who steps up and saves the day in their fantasy gun battle, and that is why they have to have their "toys." Someone else chimed in that guns are merely entertainment for the gun owner, a rather simplistic and condescending point of view, for sure.
Wow.   I have to speak up here. These folks are just downright wrong, in so many many ways. There are some of you who may be nodding to each other, saying "ah hah, she is from Texas, after all.  here it comes -- her true colors."
And yep, all that is absolutely true. However, bear me out.  What I think I may have to offer here is a perspective that no one is getting -- except maybe (that is maybe) Sen. Cornyn, although he stated
it in such a partisan and inept manner probably no one bothered to listen.  So here I go and I hope to hear from others who share this view.
My family are gun owners. We are no longer NRA members. But we are licensed hunters in the State of Texas. My husband has a concealed handgun carry permit and  helps teach gun safety classes regularly. I would wager quite a sum that I know far more gun owners than this caller and the studio staff combined, and I can almost guarantee that no gun owner I know regards their firearms as "toys." I know many who are active shooters, meaning they practice modern firearms regularly, and  I know many who only participate in costumed historic shoots with their antique or reproduction pieces.  I know many gun collectors who maintain  historic treasures that are part of American history, which would be lost to rust and decay if not for these firearms aficiondados.   I seriously doubt that many regard going to the range as "entertainment," although stress relief admittedly may be a motivating  factor in a gun owners' experience, much like the practice of any sport or hobby.  Nearly all the gun owners I know, and some of them are close friends, go to the gun range  for one reason -- to get better.  To be safer. To gain confidence. To learn when not to shoot. I don't know anybody who gets any kind of prurient gratification or pleasure from practicing with their firearms, but in fairness, I never would have pegged  Fox News' pundit pathetique Dick Morris as a toe-sucker, either.
But I digress down a dark road of ick, which, while fun, doesn't address the point. I would compare gun owners' satisfaction, and remember, I know quite a few,  to be similar to that of golfers' or basketball players' when they "fire" off a good "shot." Funny how those words are acceptable in certain contexts and not others.  Usually I find this  kind of hypocrisy predominant among my more conservative aquaintances.

As for that hero nonsense, I must say that this idea is really off the mark (one of those expressions, again).
Most gun owners, and this includes law enforcement, security professionals, game wardens, hunters,
and those whose jobs put them at some risk, absolutely dread having to fire a weapon at a human being. Ask them, dammit.  Ask them if they have fantasy moments of firing at another person, and chances are, they will look at you like you have grown horns. Ask someone who has had to face that
reality, and you will find little to no claim to some kind of warped or twisted "heroism."
Shame on those who accept-- and who perpetuate -- this portrait of responsible, law-abiding gun owners.
For so many of us who make our living in rural areas of our country, a gun is a necessary tool.  It is not a toy, and it is often not a choice.  Raising two boys on a prairie has presented innumerable human-wildlife
encounters, not always of the cute, fluffy kind. I have defended my children -- and as they grew older, they defended me -- from rabid skunks, vicious raccoons, nosey coyotes, and poisonous snakes, although I prefer a sharpshooter shovel for dispatching the snakes.
I would like to invite these oh-so-vocal and oh-so-knowledgeable opiners to visit me for a couple of weeks here in the wilds of North Texas -- let them step out of my front door on any given morning into a pile  of coyote shit, or have the wonderful experience of being hissed and stamped at by a skunk in your backyard at ten in the morning (in case you're wondering, skunks are nocturnal and are not seen in the day unless they are ill.) Let them be tailed by a crew of coyotes while walking to the mail box. Let them watch a pack of feral dogs cross the prairie -- we don't have dog catchers here in the hinterlands, folks.  Seriously.  Still an issue in rural twenty-first century America.

The truth hurts. Now go put a bandaid on it.