WEEKS DON’T GET MUCH CRAZIER THAN THIS/CANTO #41

WEEKS DON’T GET MUCH CRAZIER THAN THIS/CANTO #41

The truth is, after the week we’ve had, I don’t feel like writing a hell of a lot. I really don’t. Say what you will, but the fact of the matter is that sometimes even doing something you love can be difficult, especially when difficult things are going on in your life.

Most of the time, I have more things to write about swirling around in my head than I’d ever have the time to commit to the page. It’s a good thing, hell- it’s a great thing. I’m never starved for content and I’m grateful for that, but after this week I’m just OUT.

You should know I’m serious about this given that my blood is almost entirely comprised of Rockstar Zero Carb. If I’M out of gas, you know I’m not yanking your chain.

Something happened to us earlier this week that rattled me in a way nothing else has in my entire life. It changed me, fundamentally, and I’ll probably never be the same again. I’m alive, I’m healthy, but I’m not fucking OK. It was innocuous enough, it was late afternoon on Monday and we walked down to the mailbox with the kids to get the mail. A silver BMW pulled into our neighborhood and I didn’t think anything of it- until it stopped in front of our driveway.

The woman driving the car looked at us for a few seconds and put the car in park. She got out and she was wearing a WellStar uniform. If you don’t like in Georgia, or more specifically the Metro Atlanta Area- WellStar is a major healthcare/hospital group around here. Anyway, we didn’t know this woman and I had those stories from the news in my head about women dressing as nurses and stealing shit from people’s porches.

Needless to say, I was on fucking high alert.

She’s visibly shaken, or nervous, or something- I don’t really know to be honest. She stood there for a second, looked at us, and proceeded to say “I see you have a little girl here. My daughter is getting married right now and the power girl is sick, would your daughter want to be the flower girl instead?”. Laura and I both instinctively looked at each other, said “No thank you”, and IMMEDIATELY rushed our kids into the house.

My “papa bear” instincts have never kicked in so fucking hard in my life, maybe a couple times when the kids were super-sick but this was different. This was visceral. This was terrifying, and this was real. Right in front of our house, in broad fucking daylight.

I rushed around the house, locking doors and shutting blinds, and I called 911 as soon as I finished all that too. You see, this was one of three things: An out-and-out kidnapping, a desperate attempt at extortion, or something worse. Human trafficking. There was no good end to this scenario, not in a million years. The 911 operator agreed, and she asked if I wanted them to send an officer to the house.

I’ve been watching WAY too much Breaking Bad to have whoever the FUCK that was see cops in front of our house.

I did tell them to send someone out to patrol the area though, unfortunately I didn’t get her plates when she drove off (as soon as we said “no thank you” she threw her hands up and got back in her car, and drove off into the neighborhood) because I was in extreme fight or flight mode, and I didn’t want this shit to happen to anyone else so I figured they might be able to run into her and get her for SOMETHING.

I stayed up all night that night, sitting in our music room with my baseball bat, completely freaked out and wanting to do what I could to protect my family. This is the kind of shit you hear about on the news, but this time it was us. Nobody asks random strangers to borrow their kid for a wedding, so it doesn’t even really matter what her ultimate objective was, it was a threat to my family and FUCK that.

So, we talked about something and I made a decision. It’s a decision I didn’t take lightly, and one I didn’t want to make either. I went out the very next day, exhausted and stressed out of my fucking mind, and I bought a fucking gun. Yeah, I know. ME. Mr. Anti-Gun, Mr. “Fuck The NRA” himself is now the owner of a gun. Call me a hypocrite if you want, I suppose you’d be right, but I don’t give a fuck.

Not one single solitary fuck.

I don’t give a fuck because I know who I am. I’m a decent human being who wants to have a fighting chance of protecting his family if some shit like this goes down again, or something else. Me in our dark house, flailing around with a baseball bat, hoping for the best- that shit ain’t gonna cut it, and I gotta get some fucking sleep. I made the decision and I stand by it. I’ve somehow managed to not end up with any felonies in my life (close calls don’t count motherfuckers!) so I went to a gun store and I legally purchased a firearm so I can protect my home and my family.

I guess I’m Ok with it because, the thing is- I’m not suddenly one of those 2nd Ammendment, trigger happy, “cold dead hands” motherfuckers overnight, and I never will be. I still think those people are assholes (here’s lookin’ at you, Phil Labonte), I still think they should apply their teeny-weeny intellect to vastly more important causes, and I’ll not be joining the NRA. Fuck THAT. I’m doing this because the world we are now living in due to COVID-19 is one where people feel OK trying to swipe my kid from my god damn driveway in the middle of the day, and if I’m ever gonna sleep again I need to know I can keep us safe.

Don’t worry, I’m not THIS guy.

I’d only ever even SHOT a fucking gun once in my life, I was super hungover once and woke up in a strangers clothes in a place I barely remembered and somebody wanted to go skeet shooting. Dude’s dad had some land, and one of those clay pigeon shooting things, so this group of weirdos decided we’d go shoot some shit. We got to the top of this hill and I got handed a shotgun. They obviously didn’t know who I was, cause nobody with a fraction of a brain would have handed me one of those unless they had never spent more than five minutes around me but whatever.

I took a swig of “hair of the dog”, cause this fucking day couldn’t get much weirder (and I fell in a lake the night before, hence the strangers clothes, and yes this IS a story for another time), and shot at the clay pigeon in the sky. I’d immediately had my fill, I vomited, and went and sat under a tree. Billy BadAss right here.

I took my newly acquired firearm to the range yesterday so I could get some practice in, I did pretty well in fact, and here’s another thing- I’ll never be a one of those gun dudes because I don’t particularly LIKE having the power to kill things in my hands. I’m AGAINST violence, so the very act of holding a gun goes against EVERYTHING I fucking stand for, period. It does. I was insanely nervous at first, but I got used to it, but let me tell you this- when you see the fucking things in movies, TV, whatever- it doesn’t do justice to just how LOUD the fucking things are. You feel that kickback in your hands, you smell the gunpowder burning in the air, and you feel the shell casing when it hits the ground and bounces around like a marble.

Wayne LaPierre I am NOT.

I can see why it’s something people enjoy, don’t get me wrong. When you’re not completely terrified and going against every principle in your being I bet it’s a great stress reliever. Plus, if you’re good at shooting I bet it’s wicked-rad to hit those targets in all the right places. I get it, I do. For me though, this isn’t something I relish, having the ability to end a life so quickly is NOT something I want to hold in my hands. Judge me all you want, call me a pussy if that’s your thing, I DON’T GIVE A FUCK.

I made this decision for one reason, and one reason only. To protect my family. That’s it. I won’t be carrying it in public, I won’t be shooting cans in the fucking yard- it’ll be sitting in a safe that I hope I never have to open. Besides practicing here and there to make sure I don’t shoot my ceiling instead of an intruder I hope it sits there and never gets used. So, there you have it. Like I said, judge away- I know who I am, I know the things I’ve said, and I know that owning a gun is extremely afar from whatever idea of me you have in your head.

Shit, I’m STILL processing this shit myself. I don’t like that I had to do this, but I also keep playing the tape from Monday in my head. Over and over again, and every time I do I understand why I’m OK with this. 100%, I’ll come to the same decision every time. Our world is becoming more and more desperate every day and if this shit gets worse (it will) more jobs will be lost, more bills will go unpaid, and more people will start doing bad things to keep themselves alive. That’s a fucking FACT. I don’t like it anymore than you do, but I have to be realistic because I have a family. Nobody is going NEAR my family without a fight, but if I can’t do shit then we’re fucked. I can’t stand for that, not now and not ever, so if that means I have to do something that I don’t necessarily agree with so I can protect them then that’s what I’ll do.

Calm down, I’m not going full-on Walter White on ya.

That’s it, that’s the story. I’ve lived through some drug-fueled madness in my day, I’ve ran afoul of the law a time or two, and I’ve been closer to death than I care to admit on more occasions than I can count on my fingers and toes- but NOTHING felt as awful as the moment my brain realized that woman was intending to take my little girl. Fuck that, that was the worst. Maybe I’m compromising a little of my moral code in exchange for the ability to protect my family, but fuck it. There’s a thin line between a LOT of things, and I can sleep at night cause I keep myself on the good side of most of the god damn things. That said, this has been an immensely fucked-up week and I’m glad it’s over. If an asteroid hit my house tomorrow I wouldn’t be surprised I the slightest, but for now- I’m gonna go watch Picard with my wife, smoke some fucking weed, and rest a little easier knowing that I’m the kind of guy who’s willing to do what needs to be done to take care of his family.

if that makes me a hypocrite, no worries- I’ve been called MUCH worse.

AFH

A blog/website where these happily married, 30-something parents of 2 little minions rant, rave, and speak in tongues. Raw, honest, and riddled with profanity. Get on board and let’s make The Ghost Generation awesome together! http://theghostgeneration.com Twitter.com/Gh0stGeneration

The Ghost Generation

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