#1 and 2 were feeling bored and out of sorts on Friday evening, having been taken to see a movie they absolutely loathed. So, in order to cheer them up, I looked on the ‘Great things to do’ website, a list of all the weekend’s events on a local radio station. I found that this weekend was the Detroit Gun and Knife show. Figuring that they couldn’t get into any trouble by going to this, I told #1 to call new uncles Russ and Trevor. They were men, they had a plan- never mind. Anyway, they all agreed to go.
Sunday morning really did arrive, just to prove #2 wrong. I stayed at home, despite a nearly overwhelming longing to go and hang out with men with beer bellies, green camo and who have more guns and knives than teenagers have black t-shirts. Ok, never mind- you couldn’t have dragged me to this fete if I’d been bound and gagged. Nonetheless, the boys set off, goal in mind, grimly determined to have a good time.
“I’m A Bad, Bad Man”
They returned hours later. #2 came in just beaming. “Everyone was so nice to me!” he chirped. “All of the gun dealers let me hold weapons. The knife guys gave me demonstrations of the throwing knives. Almost everyone gave me a business card. Don’t they sound nice?” Sigh. Remind me to explain marketing to the boy, and soon. Poor #2 tries so hard to be the tough guy, but he’s still too enthusiastic to be believably scary.
#1, however, had the real stories to tell. He did get to hold a Marine sword, and he liked that. However, he was smart enough to realize why the vendor was no longer his friend after he stated that he was not there to buy stuff. He enjoyed walking around, though, seeing all of the bizarre items for sale. And the equally bizarre people both buying and selling the loot.
His award for the dumbest item for sale: the brass knuckle-o-rang. It’s a set of brass knuckles, sort of, in the shape of the Batman symbol. The two outer edges look like axes and are razor-sharp. I think that instead of a warranty card, these ought to come with a postcard you can mail in to the company reserving your Darwin award. Imagine how much damage the average weekend warrior could do to himself with these babies.
"I can shoot a partridge, with a single cartridge…”
The scariest guy was the gun salesman who started a conversation about hunting with #1. My boys are not hunters, unless money or candy is involved. #1 has never hunted, not ever. The gun salesman called him over to hold some of the guns. Although the man showed him a variety of guns, he told #1 that his favourite was a 22-calibre semi-automatic with a clip which holds 16 rounds. He pointed out that extra clips could be purchased separately, in case a hunter needed to reload really quickly. #1 asked what the man would hunt with a weapon like that. “Why, deer! You hunt deer with these babies!” the guy said, looking at #1 as if he’d worn a pink ruffled tutu to the gun show. “These are for deer hunting. You ever go with your buddies to hunt deer?” #1 admitted that he had not. He did ask the vendor why he felt that he needed such a large clip just for deer hunting. “Well, deer are tough! Everyone knows that. Sometimes you need several shots to bring one a them suckers down. Know what I mean?”
#1 did not know what he meant. I don’t, either, to be honest. My dad and brothers hunted, and they never had a semi-automatic anything. My dad liked to point out that you should be able to get a deer with no more than two shots, and one shot would do it unless you were a sh**-poor shot. The notion that anyone might need at least 16 rounds in order to finish off a deer is scary. Not that I’m an expert, but anyone who needs that many bullets to take a deer really hadn’t ought to have a gun of any kind, much less a semi-automatic.
Now, no matter how intelligent and successful #1 is, he is still my child. Therefore, you just know that something weird would happen to him at the gun show. And boy did it ever! He found the perfect item, something which is the epitome of weirdness, something absolutely breathtaking in its awful glory. He found: NRA Barbie.
“The girl that I marry will have to be, as soft, and as pink as a nursery…”
NRA Barbie was not a real Barbie, although I have this terrible feeling that it might be endorsed by the NRA. No, the item which so attracted #1 was a bright pink .22 rifle. A very small, very pink, very deadly .22 rifle. Rifle, for young girls. Because, you know, shooting is for everyone, and by teaching gun safety at an early age, the girls can learn how to handle a gun while spending quality time with dad. This rifle is not a replica. I’ll say it again: this .22 pink rifle for young girls is not a replica. I even found a blog entry about it, on
Ted Nugent’s hunting board: Quote:
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I think it depends entirely on the maturity level of the child, and the comfort level of BOTH parents. I have a 3 year old too and I just got her started shooting a bow. She hasn't seen any of my guns yet, but she knows my "shooting stuff" is in the safe. My plan is 1) don't lie to her 2) satisfy her curiosity 3) teach her good safety habits as early as she can understand them. She's getting a good dose of safety rules with the bow and that will only help her when we move up. Next stop will be a BB gun when she's a bit older and mom feels more comfortable. Ultimately, she will get one of these.
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The Crickett website describes the gun as
“My First Rifle”. Undoubtedly the first of many. That’s it- how to build an NRA Barbie. Equality in action – your daughters can be as involved with shooting things are your sons are. If she starts doing target practice when she is three, if she survives into adulthood she’ll be one hell of a shot. Who says you can’t get a man with a gun?
The boys had fun. Uncles Russ and Trevor had fun watching the boys. All four agreed that they will not be buying tiny pink rifles for any daughters who might show up. I’m hoping that the boys have learned their lesson, and that they’ll be going with me to the dog show in January. No one has been killed with a loaded poodle lately.
When Poe ain't happy, ain't nobody happy.
I'm going to bust on my brother and tell him I found the perfect Christmas present for his daughter.
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