I did a little duck hunting when I was younger and I served in the military. Guns have a very powerful attraction for people: perhaps it's some primal connection with thrown rocks and spears, I don't know. Even folks who have never fired one, who are scared of them, upon first firing one get a bit of a glazed look in their eyes. In many ways, they're like a drug. It's weird.
That said, the vast majority of people live normal lives without them. Just like the vast majority of people are not alcoholics or drug addicts or compulsive criminals, even though the opportunities for these vices are always present.
Gun nuts have given in totally. They revel in a perverse, fetishistic worship of these objects. They must own them, care for them, talk and read about them, think about them, look at them, touch them, use them. It's twisted.
And to justify this sick compulsion they wrap it in the flag, in a bizarre interpretation of one sentence written two hundred years ago.
Perhaps I am living with rose colored delusions, time will prove one of us misread the signs. I'll lose no sleep over the rantings of keyboard commandos.
Take that Pratt, what kind of fool would telegraph his true intent in such a manner. Like a con man or a televangelist his only purpose is to relieve his believers of their money.