SHOT Show

Guns, guns, guns, battle repetition awaiting orders in this stronghold of personal saviour should anyone in the next five days decide to embark on personal crusade against the soverign nation of the United States. Childhood feelings of waging war against friends in neighborhood canyons with no more than low grade BB guns could not compare to holding a semi automatic rifle in my hands. The only drawback was the lack of shooting ranges within the convention center itself in which to give some of these weapons a test drive, so I had to be satisfied in sodomizing my brain with high energy, violence, and explosion movie trailers of the mind starring myself with a stockade of guns assemble from the show floor. NRA banners, advertisements, and stickers adorned many of the booths through the expo, amendment rights, hobbyists, and backers of a lifestyle some might argue is intertwined into the very fabric of what it means to be an American in the first place. Granted, I am not what one would term as an outdoorsman or collector of firearms; thoughts of turning a gun on myself occasionally when depressed or on someone else when pissed off are often too common themes posing as solutions when the debt collector comes knocking or some asshole cuts me off on the freeway, otherwise there are not too many things more adrenaline fueled than emptying a clip from a machine gun; it invokes private thoughts of primitive kill lust described throughout the ages in various dramatic forms, thankfully most people can resist that impulse one can feel when pulling that trigger, however some people cannot, which does not mean an entire subgroup of enthusiasts should have to bare the weight of those containing questionable rationale integrity. Those with the disturbed sense of sociopathological nature could just as easy use a large vehicle, homemade explosives, or bare hands to accomplish their own self absorbed manical goals.

Right away, I can tell the outdoor trade is not an everyman type of endeavor even though on the surface it appears to advertise to the so called common man, if that kind of person really exists anymore. The over abundant amount of new technical equipment ranging from laser guided sight scopes to wireless high defenition video cameras smells of a hobby that has been compartmentalized to extract as much money out of its loyalist as possible. It is not enough to buy a high powered rifle that can hit a dime at a thousand yards but the assortment of a la carte items suggested by the wide collection of vendors who are hawking hand carved bird callers, sex animal scent, blow up doll deers that make life like noise, and blinds which are camoflauge hideouts to pass time while waiting for the bird migrations or unsuspecting game seems a bit self indulgent.

What is the point, thought it was to go out like De Niro in the Deer Hunter and pit the skills of man against nature, minus all these hi tech gadgets with GPS tracking systems, military grade night vision, and noise cancelling camouflage paddleboats. I understand there is a need by the sellers to offer the people what they want and some folks are completely content with having all the high end gear available at their disposal, but doesn't going after a buck with the arsenal and computing capacity of an aircraft carrier seem a bit overkill, maybe in a fantasy sort of way tracking game with a laptop, cameras, and laser guided telescopes supplants a need to live as if in a military war like setting, except the enemy can at best possibly gore you with its horns.

Talked with a bow hunter for a few minutes and right away could appreciate the stripped down nature of his experiences in tracking game which had a more organic feel consisting of such elements as analyizing footprints, trails, and developing a knowledge of the surrounding enviroment, watering holes, grazing meadows, and migration patterns. The amount of stealth, patience, and mental conviction necessary to bring forth all the appropriate conditions to even get close to a wild animal intrigued me. Tons of control, breath, body movement, and the bow itself really felt like something I could get into, a real challenge without having to blow some animal away with a bullet or buckshot that turns the meat into hamburger, either way people have their preferences, but the Indians couldn't win the wars with the bow so any discussions of what rules the day and personal choice can be acquired with the proper hunting permit.

Throughout the day of interview showfloor sellers, one of the producers on the show I was working for asked me if all this gun stuff made me uncomfortable, basically was I some lefty looney liberal who liked to bang the gong for human rights and gun control. What did it matter, I told him if I had guns, putting animals out of their misery would be low on my list, there are enough animals in the streets, in political offices, and the streets of Beverly Hills who need to be given the Island of Dr. Mareau treatment. Think the literary reference threw him off and the semi radical attitude of my answer may have brought out personal judgements as being another whack job like the gunman who took out all those people in Arizona, yet that character as much as an outcast in which he is being portrayed in the media just happen to murder children, middle class folk, and nearly a politican that kind routine will get you prime news coverage everytime, but gang bangers, transient hookers, and the random street harden runaway might lead to a legacy of unsolved murders at the hands of a serial killer, funny how things work in this society, but it is the one we have inherited and on good days does a pretty fine job, but on the bad ones, you get the Arizona mall massacre, just the kind of ammunition anti-gun groups cream their pants over.