Living in The Land of the Gun


 By Craig Pugh


 What’s it like living in the Land of the Gun?

Let me tell you right now: not much fun!


I mean, some days it feels like everyone’s

got one. What the heck are they all protecting

themselves from — each other? C’mon, man!


Don’t we have police officers and sheriffs for

that? I scratch my head and wonder: Is this

really the Right Wing’s version of freedom in

the USA in twenty-eighteen? Because this is


a nightmare, not a dream, a culture where nuts

strut about with assault rifles and guns while

we citizens get slaughtered by the hundreds

(adults at concerts, children in schools) because

traitors in congress bow down to NRA fools.


This American culture with men spewing death

and toxic masculinity is so bad, so discouraging.

Gun nuts try and pass it off as normalcy. Really?

If this were true I’d have to give up on humanity.


It’s hard to stay positive and not let the politicians

make me believe in their sick vision of protecting

the second amendment at all costs, even if that

means I have to die for it and you do, too. Look.


Christians don’t own guns. Neither do they run

around killing shit. Did Jesus have one? No.

Now do me a favor: don’t tell me I need one.


I am a child of God, an angel who temporarily

set his wings aside to experience life on earth

with all its pain and sadness, its joy and mirth.  


I came from love and will return to love. While

here I try my best to be a healthy cell in the body

of humanity. I believe that’s what God wants of me.


I don’t know what else to tell you except that

it would come as no surprise to me at all if one

day I got shot by a nut with a gun simply because

I had the great misfortune to be born American.


It’s like that, you see, in The Land of the Gun where

we walking dead keep a gallows sense of humor

and grim perspectives on our mortality because our

so-called leaders made a mockery of public safety

along with every word our Founding Fathers wrote.


In fact, our House of Representatives is a joke that

turns children into targets to be filled with bullet holes.


Oh, the tears in the eyes of the twenty Newton children

who knew they were going to die as they stared terrified

at Adam Lanza’s assault rifle! They cried so hard, held


out their little arms for mommy and daddy as the bullets

tore them in two and cut them in half, shattered their skulls

and splattered their guts and brain matter on the walls.


Twenty lumps of dead flesh, blood running on the floor

and the monsters in the U. S. Senate did nothing at all.


Sorry kids. You gotta go. From Columbine to Parkland,

Maine to New Mexico. You all simply have to go. Why?

I already told you so! It’s the sacred second amendment.

How many times do I have to tell you how precious it is?


So now you know the feeling we who live in The Land of

the Gun have about being sacrificed to the real terrorist:

an angry white American male with an assault rifle. Life

means nothing here. Seriously, it’s just so much fun trying

to stay alive in America. Aren’t you glad you don’t live here?



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