how would biden take my guns.

[freyasman]

a city like NY can have the strictest gun laws in the history of the world, but without FEDERAL LAWS it doesn't mean shit

i've had it with the NRA. i've had it with these guns. it's time to ban them all

BAN THEM ALL! BAN THEM ALL! BAN THEM ALL! BAN THEM ALL!

No.





Now what, smart guy?

 

[zaangalewa]

Go

...

One good thing about the years I spent running and gunning around Afghanistan, at least for me, is that it taught me a hell of a lot about insurgency warfare.

And that is useful info to have.


Just saying.

Militant Russians, militant Arabs, militant Europeans and militant Americans. Financed from the tax payers of their countries, who pay taxes for a more safe and comfortable life. And they all made rich drug dealers, who will kill their children and their future. And you was the proud hero who "civilized" with weapons this proud country full of weapons, while you inhaled a lot of dust made by excrements - what no one from your bosses told you. But they gave you money to do this job.

I knew what I was doing, and I have no regrets, and no remorse.

Pay me well enough, in cash, healthcare for my family, opportunities for experiences, and training in various skills I want, and I will happily invade most any country and slaughter the folks there.
I'm all good with it.

Unfortunately, there are far too may people who have no idea what you are talking about. I do, however. Viet Nam was a bitch.....

Dulce et Decorum – #538

And May You Get the Chance

www.unz.com

From the link;

"I am a soldier. I am dirt. With Joshua I put the cities of Canaan to the sword while women screamed and tried to protect their babies. I spent long days in Nanjing butchering and butchering civilians because I enjoyed it. For I am a soldier. I am dirt. I fire-bombed Hamburg till the wind-fanned flames left nowhere to hide and the people burned screaming and their fat puddled in the streets. I am a soldier. I am dirt.

On the crumbling walls of Angkor Wat, the Cold Lairs, trees now crawling over the walls, you may see me carved, marching, marching to kill forgotten peoples, it matters not whom. In the sweltering heat of Chichen Itza and the terrible winter of Stalingrad and the flaming paper cities of Japan and on the Death March of the Philippines I killed and killed, for I am a soldier. I am dirt. I kill.

In this I glory. I spend my declining years drinking in bars with old soldiers I knew when Breda fell to us and we raped and killed and looted, when we torpedoed the troop ships and left the soldiers in their thousands to drown slowly as their strength gave out. The fierce exultation of watching Atlanta burn, Pearl Harbor, Nagasaki, these I remember lovingly. For I am dirt.

Crush their skulls and eat their faces, we say with remembered bravado. We remember the adventures fondly. They almost had us at Plei Cuy when a 551 arrived with beehive rounds, and that put paid to them, hoo-ah.

These are degenerate days. Once I breached the walls of Ilium or Constantinople during the Fourth Crusade and killed and looted and raped girls of seven in front of their parents—how they howled! Now perforce I say I do it for democracy, about which I don’t give a damn, or to end evil, though our allies are the worst tyrants we can find. Before, I could torture my captives between two slow fires, or by running a red-hot poker up their neither ends, and this in the public square for the amusement of a bored populace.

Now I water-board them, bringing them to the edge of drowning, screaming, begging, puking, yes, that does nicely, now a little more water as their minds break, and maybe I will masturbate over it later. For I am a soldier. I am dirt. I am the worst of a sorry species.

I am a soldier. I pride myself on my allegiance to duty, God, honor, country. My god is Moloch of the red fangs, who wills me to besiege a city into cannibalism, to catapult the severed heads of loved ones over the walls, with blankets infected with smallpox. My god, however named—Yahweh, Molloch, Satanas, Odin, imposes my duty, to kill, to rape.

But if my country says to butcher, then butchery were no crime, but a source of honor. To kill for pure enjoyment, as Ted Bundy or Jeffrey Dahmer, is most contemptible, but to do it because Bush II, Tojo, Bin Laden, or Netanyahu commands it—this is virtue at its highest. Killing for your own reasons is criminal. Killing someone you have never seen for the benefit of a politician you have never met is a source of medals.

I was a soldier once. I received certain medals. They were trivial medals. The meritorious variety are awarded for jumping into a trench of scared conscripted adolescents and bludgeoning them to death with a rifle butt. I lacked the character. But medals can be problems. If I put them in the toilet, they might clog it, but I certainly would not want children exposed to them. The military presents problems that Clausewitz did not anticipate.

Once, in a war of no particular importance, I lay in a hospital of little importance in a country in Asia that didn’t matter. It was just a country. Soldiers kill, who and where and why being beyond their capacities for thought. I was blinded. Soldiers are dirt, and sometimes they get what they deserve. I did. Across from me, though I couldn’t see them, were the survivors of a tank crew. An RPG 2, which you probably don’t know what is, had hit their M60, which you probably don’t know what is, and had cooked off the cherry juice, which you probably don’t know what is.

I couldn’t see them. I was a soldier. I was dirt. But I was blind dirt. I couldn’t see them under the plastic sheeting under which they oozed serum. But they spoke of the fire within, and the loader and gunner screaming as their skin sloughed off, and they desperately tried to find the hatches and couldn’t, and died screaming, screaming, fingers groping for hatches they couldn’t find in the smoke and agony and terror, which is why I hate you sonsofbitches that sent them and us to make money for McDonnell Douglas.

For this we hold reunions. We get together in Wyoming and Tuscaloosa and Portland and remember when we were young and the war held off the boredom of life and the star shells flickered in the night sky over Happy Valley and life meant nothing but was at least intense. I hated the H&I fire over the dark forests of a puzzled Cambodia and I hate you cocksuckers living soft at home for sending us and I hate what I did and I hate what my friends did who were there, who are really my only friends. And I hope you one day pay, what we paid, what our victims paid and you pay it as we did. And this will bring me the only joy in my life.

I am a soldier. I am dirt."

Yes Sir........I can relate.

Don't call absurde idiots "Sir" - even if it is a joke.

Kiss my Lilly white ass you snowflake SOB.

Küsse meinen lilienweissen Arsch du Schneeschluchzer ... that was wrong ... du Schneeflockensohn einer Hure. ... hmm ... Got it. Sounds nice.

Du hast keinen Arsch, um dich feige zu küssen

Damned right I call him "Sir" and he would do the same for me.

Aha. And I thought you made a joke. Now you are the joke.

I will happily call one of my Brothers Sir - something you know nothing about.

Put the uniform of your country on skippy.

Go to war. Come home in one piece and maybe, just MAYBE, you'll understand. Until then, keep your mouth shut.

He who joyfully marches to music rank and file, has already earned my contempt. He has been given a large brain by mistake, since for him the spinal cord would surely suffice. This disgrace to civilization should be done away with at once. Heroism at command, how violently I hate all this, how despicable and ignoble war is; I would rather be torn to shreds than be a part of so base an action. It is my conviction that killing under the cloak of war is nothing but an act of murder.
Albert Einstein

Einstein was a dope head fool

Good grief. Poor USA, where criminals think they are "Sir"'s!

I'm an Outlaw, not merely a criminal.

Go back into your book, idiot.

Go hide in a hole and leave the world to the men willing to conquer it.

You will never conquer anything in this world here except you try to understand and respect the world - that's the very simple truth. Example: Since "you" think all countries in the world are "shithole countries" you made your own country more and more to a shithole country.

I understand a lot more than you think.

And you should learn that there is a difference between what is respected and what is respectable.

Empty phrases. The reality of brutality is also always only an illusion of brutal idiots, because it is very easy to be a brutal idiot. But the way how brutal idiots are really able to survive is to go into a psychiatric hospital and to try to start to change the real problem "I". No weapons needed for.

The most brutal people of all are those trained and paid specifically to BE brutal.
And that are those hired by government.
It will always be that way.
Government is always inherently corrupt, and eventually we will be forced to rebel against them, again.
But if some foolish person has conspired with the evil in government to disarm the general population, that will not be possible, and never again will a democratic republic be possible.

What a bullshit. You are your "government" and your elected government is your servant. The USA is a democracy.

On paper, anyway.... reality is a bit different.


Btw, if you were a young person watching your federal government burn dozens of people to death over bullshit, while the Texas Rangers just stood around and watched, it might occur to you that knowing how to fight back effectively would be a good thing to learn, because no one is going to help you.
You might look around and try to figure out where to find such training. You might find a well respected (at the time, anyway) institution that was willing to give you all the training you could handle, and even pay you for it. (It might even come down to a choice between the French Foreign Legion, and The US Army Airborne, and the deciding factor was simply that an Army recruiter called me back before I got on the plane to Marseille.) You might even get a shit-ton of experience using that training in a few other places around the world.

And along the way down this long road, you may see more and more shitty things, and meet more and more evil people in positions of power...... people and things that make you very glad you got that training and experience, because now you are more sure than ever that you're going to need it someday.

Did you make in your life any good decisions? Blues on Easter-Sabbat now?

 

[freyasman]

Go

...

One good thing about the years I spent running and gunning around Afghanistan, at least for me, is that it taught me a hell of a lot about insurgency warfare.

And that is useful info to have.


Just saying.

Militant Russians, militant Arabs, militant Europeans and militant Americans. Financed from the tax payers of their countries, who pay taxes for a more safe and comfortable life. And they all made rich drug dealers, who will kill their children and their future. And you was the proud hero who "civilized" with weapons this proud country full of weapons, while you inhaled a lot of dust made by excrements - what no one from your bosses told you. But they gave you money to do this job.

I knew what I was doing, and I have no regrets, and no remorse.

Pay me well enough, in cash, healthcare for my family, opportunities for experiences, and training in various skills I want, and I will happily invade most any country and slaughter the folks there.
I'm all good with it.

Unfortunately, there are far too may people who have no idea what you are talking about. I do, however. Viet Nam was a bitch.....

Dulce et Decorum – #538

And May You Get the Chance

www.unz.com

From the link;

"I am a soldier. I am dirt. With Joshua I put the cities of Canaan to the sword while women screamed and tried to protect their babies. I spent long days in Nanjing butchering and butchering civilians because I enjoyed it. For I am a soldier. I am dirt. I fire-bombed Hamburg till the wind-fanned flames left nowhere to hide and the people burned screaming and their fat puddled in the streets. I am a soldier. I am dirt.

On the crumbling walls of Angkor Wat, the Cold Lairs, trees now crawling over the walls, you may see me carved, marching, marching to kill forgotten peoples, it matters not whom. In the sweltering heat of Chichen Itza and the terrible winter of Stalingrad and the flaming paper cities of Japan and on the Death March of the Philippines I killed and killed, for I am a soldier. I am dirt. I kill.

In this I glory. I spend my declining years drinking in bars with old soldiers I knew when Breda fell to us and we raped and killed and looted, when we torpedoed the troop ships and left the soldiers in their thousands to drown slowly as their strength gave out. The fierce exultation of watching Atlanta burn, Pearl Harbor, Nagasaki, these I remember lovingly. For I am dirt.

Crush their skulls and eat their faces, we say with remembered bravado. We remember the adventures fondly. They almost had us at Plei Cuy when a 551 arrived with beehive rounds, and that put paid to them, hoo-ah.

These are degenerate days. Once I breached the walls of Ilium or Constantinople during the Fourth Crusade and killed and looted and raped girls of seven in front of their parents—how they howled! Now perforce I say I do it for democracy, about which I don’t give a damn, or to end evil, though our allies are the worst tyrants we can find. Before, I could torture my captives between two slow fires, or by running a red-hot poker up their neither ends, and this in the public square for the amusement of a bored populace.

Now I water-board them, bringing them to the edge of drowning, screaming, begging, puking, yes, that does nicely, now a little more water as their minds break, and maybe I will masturbate over it later. For I am a soldier. I am dirt. I am the worst of a sorry species.

I am a soldier. I pride myself on my allegiance to duty, God, honor, country. My god is Moloch of the red fangs, who wills me to besiege a city into cannibalism, to catapult the severed heads of loved ones over the walls, with blankets infected with smallpox. My god, however named—Yahweh, Molloch, Satanas, Odin, imposes my duty, to kill, to rape.

But if my country says to butcher, then butchery were no crime, but a source of honor. To kill for pure enjoyment, as Ted Bundy or Jeffrey Dahmer, is most contemptible, but to do it because Bush II, Tojo, Bin Laden, or Netanyahu commands it—this is virtue at its highest. Killing for your own reasons is criminal. Killing someone you have never seen for the benefit of a politician you have never met is a source of medals.

I was a soldier once. I received certain medals. They were trivial medals. The meritorious variety are awarded for jumping into a trench of scared conscripted adolescents and bludgeoning them to death with a rifle butt. I lacked the character. But medals can be problems. If I put them in the toilet, they might clog it, but I certainly would not want children exposed to them. The military presents problems that Clausewitz did not anticipate.

Once, in a war of no particular importance, I lay in a hospital of little importance in a country in Asia that didn’t matter. It was just a country. Soldiers kill, who and where and why being beyond their capacities for thought. I was blinded. Soldiers are dirt, and sometimes they get what they deserve. I did. Across from me, though I couldn’t see them, were the survivors of a tank crew. An RPG 2, which you probably don’t know what is, had hit their M60, which you probably don’t know what is, and had cooked off the cherry juice, which you probably don’t know what is.

I couldn’t see them. I was a soldier. I was dirt. But I was blind dirt. I couldn’t see them under the plastic sheeting under which they oozed serum. But they spoke of the fire within, and the loader and gunner screaming as their skin sloughed off, and they desperately tried to find the hatches and couldn’t, and died screaming, screaming, fingers groping for hatches they couldn’t find in the smoke and agony and terror, which is why I hate you sonsofbitches that sent them and us to make money for McDonnell Douglas.

For this we hold reunions. We get together in Wyoming and Tuscaloosa and Portland and remember when we were young and the war held off the boredom of life and the star shells flickered in the night sky over Happy Valley and life meant nothing but was at least intense. I hated the H&I fire over the dark forests of a puzzled Cambodia and I hate you cocksuckers living soft at home for sending us and I hate what I did and I hate what my friends did who were there, who are really my only friends. And I hope you one day pay, what we paid, what our victims paid and you pay it as we did. And this will bring me the only joy in my life.

I am a soldier. I am dirt."

Yes Sir........I can relate.

Don't call absurde idiots "Sir" - even if it is a joke.

Kiss my Lilly white ass you snowflake SOB.

Küsse meinen lilienweissen Arsch du Schneeschluchzer ... that was wrong ... du Schneeflockensohn einer Hure. ... hmm ... Got it. Sounds nice.

Du hast keinen Arsch, um dich feige zu küssen

Damned right I call him "Sir" and he would do the same for me.

Aha. And I thought you made a joke. Now you are the joke.

I will happily call one of my Brothers Sir - something you know nothing about.

Put the uniform of your country on skippy.

Go to war. Come home in one piece and maybe, just MAYBE, you'll understand. Until then, keep your mouth shut.

He who joyfully marches to music rank and file, has already earned my contempt. He has been given a large brain by mistake, since for him the spinal cord would surely suffice. This disgrace to civilization should be done away with at once. Heroism at command, how violently I hate all this, how despicable and ignoble war is; I would rather be torn to shreds than be a part of so base an action. It is my conviction that killing under the cloak of war is nothing but an act of murder.
Albert Einstein

Einstein was a dope head fool

Good grief. Poor USA, where criminals think they are "Sir"'s!

I'm an Outlaw, not merely a criminal.

Go back into your book, idiot.

Go hide in a hole and leave the world to the men willing to conquer it.

You will never conquer anything in this world here except you try to understand and respect the world - that's the very simple truth. Example: Since "you" think all countries in the world are "shithole countries" you made your own country more and more to a shithole country.

I understand a lot more than you think.

And you should learn that there is a difference between what is respected and what is respectable.

Empty phrases. The reality of brutality is also always only an illusion of brutal idiots, because it is very easy to be a brutal idiot. But the way how brutal idiots are really able to survive is to go into a psychiatric hospital and to try to start to change the real problem "I". No weapons needed for.

The most brutal people of all are those trained and paid specifically to BE brutal.
And that are those hired by government.
It will always be that way.
Government is always inherently corrupt, and eventually we will be forced to rebel against them, again.
But if some foolish person has conspired with the evil in government to disarm the general population, that will not be possible, and never again will a democratic republic be possible.

What a bullshit. You are your "government" and your elected government is your servant. The USA is a democracy.

On paper, anyway.... reality is a bit different.


Btw, if you were a young person watching your federal government burn dozens of people to death over bullshit, while the Texas Rangers just stood around and watched, it might occur to you that knowing how to fight back effectively would be a good thing to learn, because no one is going to help you.
You might look around and try to figure out where to find such training. You might find a well respected (at the time, anyway) institution that was willing to give you all the training you could handle, and even pay you for it. (It might even come down to a choice between the French Foreign Legion, and The US Army Airborne, and the deciding factor was simply that an Army recruiter called me back before I got on the plane to Marseille.) You might even get a shit-ton of experience using that training in a few other places around the world.

And along the way down this long road, you may see more and more shitty things, and meet more and more evil people in positions of power...... people and things that make you very glad you got that training and experience, because now you are more sure than ever that you're going to need it someday.

Did you make in your life any good decisions? Blues on Easter-Sabbat now?

Well, I own a nice house on a nice piece of land, on the edge of a quiet little Texas town. One room is my library full of a few thousand of my favorite books, and the garage is a home gym with a thai bag hanging and a black iron weight pile, which is really all I need. I'm healthy and stronger than most, and fit enough for a couple side chicks if I get so inclined, which is not bad for a guy rated 90% disabled by the VA.

I have a job that I enjoy the hell out of most times, that keeps me engaged and sometimes challenged at the things I like to do. I have a side business that keeps plenty of cash (or cryptocurrency, or gold coins, or favors in the favor bank) in my pocket.

I have an extremely large and loving family, (aka: the tribe), a beautiful wife, and I got a wonderful grandchild to dote on.

My pickup and my Harley Davidson are both paid for, and I'm looking hard at the new Indian Chief but I don't need any payments right now.



As I sit here with a cup of good coffee, I have to say, that overall, things have worked out pretty well for me, yes.


What would you do to protect a life like that, and all the people in it?

I already made up my mind what I'm willing to do.

 

[Utilitarian]

Nice that you agree that the western societies need more women in important positions with real decision making power.

If a given woman is the best for a job, sure, I don't mind that. I just prefer meritocracy, which means ignoring the sex of the applicants for a position.

What causes perhaps a wrong exclusivity, because "sex" is also another way to see what's going on - and what's going wrong - in the world. 100% men are 100% blind in some directions, which they will never be able to see. 50:50 in the same level of decision power is the best - what doesn't mean women should work in a mine and men have to work in a kindergarten. But they should decide together what's the best to do.

50:50 assumes that you have an equal number of qualified candidates apply among each sex. That rarely happens.

 

[washamericom]

Go

...

One good thing about the years I spent running and gunning around Afghanistan, at least for me, is that it taught me a hell of a lot about insurgency warfare.

And that is useful info to have.


Just saying.

Militant Russians, militant Arabs, militant Europeans and militant Americans. Financed from the tax payers of their countries, who pay taxes for a more safe and comfortable life. And they all made rich drug dealers, who will kill their children and their future. And you was the proud hero who "civilized" with weapons this proud country full of weapons, while you inhaled a lot of dust made by excrements - what no one from your bosses told you. But they gave you money to do this job.

I knew what I was doing, and I have no regrets, and no remorse.

Pay me well enough, in cash, healthcare for my family, opportunities for experiences, and training in various skills I want, and I will happily invade most any country and slaughter the folks there.
I'm all good with it.

Unfortunately, there are far too may people who have no idea what you are talking about. I do, however. Viet Nam was a bitch.....

Dulce et Decorum – #538

And May You Get the Chance

www.unz.com

From the link;

"I am a soldier. I am dirt. With Joshua I put the cities of Canaan to the sword while women screamed and tried to protect their babies. I spent long days in Nanjing butchering and butchering civilians because I enjoyed it. For I am a soldier. I am dirt. I fire-bombed Hamburg till the wind-fanned flames left nowhere to hide and the people burned screaming and their fat puddled in the streets. I am a soldier. I am dirt.

On the crumbling walls of Angkor Wat, the Cold Lairs, trees now crawling over the walls, you may see me carved, marching, marching to kill forgotten peoples, it matters not whom. In the sweltering heat of Chichen Itza and the terrible winter of Stalingrad and the flaming paper cities of Japan and on the Death March of the Philippines I killed and killed, for I am a soldier. I am dirt. I kill.

In this I glory. I spend my declining years drinking in bars with old soldiers I knew when Breda fell to us and we raped and killed and looted, when we torpedoed the troop ships and left the soldiers in their thousands to drown slowly as their strength gave out. The fierce exultation of watching Atlanta burn, Pearl Harbor, Nagasaki, these I remember lovingly. For I am dirt.

Crush their skulls and eat their faces, we say with remembered bravado. We remember the adventures fondly. They almost had us at Plei Cuy when a 551 arrived with beehive rounds, and that put paid to them, hoo-ah.

These are degenerate days. Once I breached the walls of Ilium or Constantinople during the Fourth Crusade and killed and looted and raped girls of seven in front of their parents—how they howled! Now perforce I say I do it for democracy, about which I don’t give a damn, or to end evil, though our allies are the worst tyrants we can find. Before, I could torture my captives between two slow fires, or by running a red-hot poker up their neither ends, and this in the public square for the amusement of a bored populace.

Now I water-board them, bringing them to the edge of drowning, screaming, begging, puking, yes, that does nicely, now a little more water as their minds break, and maybe I will masturbate over it later. For I am a soldier. I am dirt. I am the worst of a sorry species.

I am a soldier. I pride myself on my allegiance to duty, God, honor, country. My god is Moloch of the red fangs, who wills me to besiege a city into cannibalism, to catapult the severed heads of loved ones over the walls, with blankets infected with smallpox. My god, however named—Yahweh, Molloch, Satanas, Odin, imposes my duty, to kill, to rape.

But if my country says to butcher, then butchery were no crime, but a source of honor. To kill for pure enjoyment, as Ted Bundy or Jeffrey Dahmer, is most contemptible, but to do it because Bush II, Tojo, Bin Laden, or Netanyahu commands it—this is virtue at its highest. Killing for your own reasons is criminal. Killing someone you have never seen for the benefit of a politician you have never met is a source of medals.

I was a soldier once. I received certain medals. They were trivial medals. The meritorious variety are awarded for jumping into a trench of scared conscripted adolescents and bludgeoning them to death with a rifle butt. I lacked the character. But medals can be problems. If I put them in the toilet, they might clog it, but I certainly would not want children exposed to them. The military presents problems that Clausewitz did not anticipate.

Once, in a war of no particular importance, I lay in a hospital of little importance in a country in Asia that didn’t matter. It was just a country. Soldiers kill, who and where and why being beyond their capacities for thought. I was blinded. Soldiers are dirt, and sometimes they get what they deserve. I did. Across from me, though I couldn’t see them, were the survivors of a tank crew. An RPG 2, which you probably don’t know what is, had hit their M60, which you probably don’t know what is, and had cooked off the cherry juice, which you probably don’t know what is.

I couldn’t see them. I was a soldier. I was dirt. But I was blind dirt. I couldn’t see them under the plastic sheeting under which they oozed serum. But they spoke of the fire within, and the loader and gunner screaming as their skin sloughed off, and they desperately tried to find the hatches and couldn’t, and died screaming, screaming, fingers groping for hatches they couldn’t find in the smoke and agony and terror, which is why I hate you sonsofbitches that sent them and us to make money for McDonnell Douglas.

For this we hold reunions. We get together in Wyoming and Tuscaloosa and Portland and remember when we were young and the war held off the boredom of life and the star shells flickered in the night sky over Happy Valley and life meant nothing but was at least intense. I hated the H&I fire over the dark forests of a puzzled Cambodia and I hate you cocksuckers living soft at home for sending us and I hate what I did and I hate what my friends did who were there, who are really my only friends. And I hope you one day pay, what we paid, what our victims paid and you pay it as we did. And this will bring me the only joy in my life.

I am a soldier. I am dirt."

Yes Sir........I can relate.

Don't call absurde idiots "Sir" - even if it is a joke.

Kiss my Lilly white ass you snowflake SOB.

Küsse meinen lilienweissen Arsch du Schneeschluchzer ... that was wrong ... du Schneeflockensohn einer Hure. ... hmm ... Got it. Sounds nice.

Du hast keinen Arsch, um dich feige zu küssen

Damned right I call him "Sir" and he would do the same for me.

Aha. And I thought you made a joke. Now you are the joke.

I will happily call one of my Brothers Sir - something you know nothing about.

Put the uniform of your country on skippy.

Go to war. Come home in one piece and maybe, just MAYBE, you'll understand. Until then, keep your mouth shut.

He who joyfully marches to music rank and file, has already earned my contempt. He has been given a large brain by mistake, since for him the spinal cord would surely suffice. This disgrace to civilization should be done away with at once. Heroism at command, how violently I hate all this, how despicable and ignoble war is; I would rather be torn to shreds than be a part of so base an action. It is my conviction that killing under the cloak of war is nothing but an act of murder.
Albert Einstein

Einstein was a dope head fool

Good grief. Poor USA, where criminals think they are "Sir"'s!

I'm an Outlaw, not merely a criminal.

Go back into your book, idiot.

Go hide in a hole and leave the world to the men willing to conquer it.

You will never conquer anything in this world here except you try to understand and respect the world - that's the very simple truth. Example: Since "you" think all countries in the world are "shithole countries" you made your own country more and more to a shithole country.

I understand a lot more than you think.

And you should learn that there is a difference between what is respected and what is respectable.

Empty phrases. The reality of brutality is also always only an illusion of brutal idiots, because it is very easy to be a brutal idiot. But the way how brutal idiots are really able to survive is to go into a psychiatric hospital and to try to start to change the real problem "I". No weapons needed for.

The most brutal people of all are those trained and paid specifically to BE brutal.
And that are those hired by government.
It will always be that way.
Government is always inherently corrupt, and eventually we will be forced to rebel against them, again.
But if some foolish person has conspired with the evil in government to disarm the general population, that will not be possible, and never again will a democratic republic be possible.

What a bullshit. You are your "government" and your elected government is your servant. The USA is a democracy.

On paper, anyway.... reality is a bit different.


Btw, if you were a young person watching your federal government burn dozens of people to death over bullshit, while the Texas Rangers just stood around and watched, it might occur to you that knowing how to fight back effectively would be a good thing to learn, because no one is going to help you.
You might look around and try to figure out where to find such training. You might find a well respected (at the time, anyway) institution that was willing to give you all the training you could handle, and even pay you for it. (It might even come down to a choice between the French Foreign Legion, and The US Army Airborne, and the deciding factor was simply that an Army recruiter called me back before I got on the plane to Marseille.) You might even get a shit-ton of experience using that training in a few other places around the world.

And along the way down this long road, you may see more and more shitty things, and meet more and more evil people in positions of power...... people and things that make you very glad you got that training and experience, because now you are more sure than ever that you're going to need it someday.

Cheater Joe said again last night, we don't need 100 round mags... but I do.. but just until I can get 200 round magazines.

 

[d0gbreath]

Cheater Joe said again last night, we don't need 100 round mags... but I do.. but just until I can get 200 round magazines.

AFAIK 100 rounds come in drums. I've never heard of one for 200 rounds. It's time for the long belts, and quick change barrels. But, if you're not going to war, those things are a bit excessive IMO.