niner
11-11-2005, 07:45 PM
http://www.dailytoreador.com/vnews/display.v/ART/2005/11/11/437431b28eaa0
MARTIN: A shotgun raffle beats a shotgun wedding
Polo Club raffle makes Lubbock look bad, DT's prairie dog coverage not helping
By Jeremy Martin/Opinions Editor
November 11, 2005
Before I get a bunch of letters from all you NRA members calling me a limp-wristed gun-hating mama's boy, let me assure you that: 1) My wrists are quite firm and manly, 2) I have fired a gun before and 3) My mother has said on several occasions that she never really wanted to have me.
Most importantly though, let me re-emphasize - I have, indeed, fired a gun before. Let me tell you about what kind of rugged, trigger-happy Texan I am. I was sitting in my girlfriend's father's living room one day, and I noticed a small rifle leaning up against the door frame.
Drawing upon all the gun expertise I've accumulated as opinions editor for a college newspaper, I immediately decided to go pick the gun up and start messing with it.
Remember that anti-marijuana commercial where the stoner guy picks up a handgun and, because weed apparently clouds your judgment as to whether things die when you blow a big hole in them, decides to shoot his friend at point blank range?
Oh how I used to laugh at that commercial. There's no way, I thought, that any amount of marijuana could make you so stupid you'd forget your friend wasn't bulletproof. I don't laugh at that commercial anymore, because what I did with the gun next, I did completely clean and sober.
I was playing with the rifle, and in my defense, I thought it was a BB gun, and I decided to pull the hammer back. It clicked and I thought: "Oh crap, I probably don't want to leave the gun like this." What if it fell over and shot a BB at the TV screen? It probably wasn't loaded, but it might have made a scary popping noise when the hammer came down.
The only way I could figure out to get the hammer back down would be to pull the trigger, and fortunately (probably because I pass on grass), I was at least not brain dead enough to pull the trigger indoors. I'm sure you know where this story is going.
I took the gun out on the back porch and squeezed the trigger. The world exploded, and by that I mean I heard a scary popping noise and a little bit of smoke came out of the barrel. Apparently the rifle was a .22.
Fortunately the bullet went harmlessly into the grass in a neighbor's backyard. Or it may have killed someone's dog, or maybe a sunbathing grandmother. I don't know. I immediately ran inside and spent the next 45 minutes huddled in a closet crying like "Sex in the City" got taken off the air again.
Anyway, I did fire a rifle one time so I'm not writing this column out of gun-bashing ignorance here. That's right, for those of you still reading - I'm about to actually start the column now.
The gun issue concerning me right now is this - the Texas Tech Polo Club is raising money by raffling off a 12-gauge shotgun. According to the entry on Tech Announce, this is no ordinary gun, but one featuring: "refined, floral and scroll engraved decoration that will make this shotgun a source of pride for years to come."
You got it "a source of pride for years to come." Here's a question for all you ladies out there: At what point during a date is it appropriate for a guy to take you back to his place to show you his elegantly crafted shotgun? I imagine the dialogue would go something like this -
Man: Check out the refined floral engravings on this sucker. You're a chick, you like flowers right?
Woman: Um, yeah it's cool, I guess.
Man: (Becoming upset.) This gun's my pride and joy. I want to shoot something with it so bad, but I'm afraid I'll damage the pretty engravings. (Pets the gun.)
Woman: (Faint sound of pant-wetting)
So maybe, Tech Polo Club members, raffling off a gun is not the best way to raise to show your devotion to Ralph Lauren. Thanks for perpetuating the gun-crazy Texan stereotype. You're doing enough damage to the image of West Texas by riding around on horses all the time, I would think the least you could do would be to not raffle off a 12-gauge like it's a Christmas ham.
Listen, Lubbock is already looking pretty bad this week without a college club gun lottery. I know part of this is The Daily Toreador's fault for running that story about Prairie Dog Town on the front page of the paper the other day. I'm sure everyone would have been just as happy not knowing a field full of mutant gerbils is Lubbock's fifth most-popular tourist attraction.
This statistic becomes even more disturbing when you take into account what the top four attractions in Lubbock are:
1. The Buddy Holly Museum
2. The future possible site of a George W. Bush-related library type-thing, maybe
3. Guinea Pig Commune
4. Your mom's house (tie)
4. Aw, snap. I totally said your mom's house. (tie)
So Lubbock's looking less and less classy, mostly thanks to weird student organizations no one cares about like the Tech Polo Club and The DT. What do you say all us little clubs call a truce to stop making Lubbock look like it's probably the place where people in New Mexico move to legally marry their first cousins?
The Tech Polo Club should raffle off turkeys or something equally less bullet-y, and The DT will stop running stories on Lubbockites' love of rodent-themed fantasy villages and go back to being the liberal rag students tear the crossword puzzle out of and then throw on the floor.
MARTIN: A shotgun raffle beats a shotgun wedding
Polo Club raffle makes Lubbock look bad, DT's prairie dog coverage not helping
By Jeremy Martin/Opinions Editor
November 11, 2005
Before I get a bunch of letters from all you NRA members calling me a limp-wristed gun-hating mama's boy, let me assure you that: 1) My wrists are quite firm and manly, 2) I have fired a gun before and 3) My mother has said on several occasions that she never really wanted to have me.
Most importantly though, let me re-emphasize - I have, indeed, fired a gun before. Let me tell you about what kind of rugged, trigger-happy Texan I am. I was sitting in my girlfriend's father's living room one day, and I noticed a small rifle leaning up against the door frame.
Drawing upon all the gun expertise I've accumulated as opinions editor for a college newspaper, I immediately decided to go pick the gun up and start messing with it.
Remember that anti-marijuana commercial where the stoner guy picks up a handgun and, because weed apparently clouds your judgment as to whether things die when you blow a big hole in them, decides to shoot his friend at point blank range?
Oh how I used to laugh at that commercial. There's no way, I thought, that any amount of marijuana could make you so stupid you'd forget your friend wasn't bulletproof. I don't laugh at that commercial anymore, because what I did with the gun next, I did completely clean and sober.
I was playing with the rifle, and in my defense, I thought it was a BB gun, and I decided to pull the hammer back. It clicked and I thought: "Oh crap, I probably don't want to leave the gun like this." What if it fell over and shot a BB at the TV screen? It probably wasn't loaded, but it might have made a scary popping noise when the hammer came down.
The only way I could figure out to get the hammer back down would be to pull the trigger, and fortunately (probably because I pass on grass), I was at least not brain dead enough to pull the trigger indoors. I'm sure you know where this story is going.
I took the gun out on the back porch and squeezed the trigger. The world exploded, and by that I mean I heard a scary popping noise and a little bit of smoke came out of the barrel. Apparently the rifle was a .22.
Fortunately the bullet went harmlessly into the grass in a neighbor's backyard. Or it may have killed someone's dog, or maybe a sunbathing grandmother. I don't know. I immediately ran inside and spent the next 45 minutes huddled in a closet crying like "Sex in the City" got taken off the air again.
Anyway, I did fire a rifle one time so I'm not writing this column out of gun-bashing ignorance here. That's right, for those of you still reading - I'm about to actually start the column now.
The gun issue concerning me right now is this - the Texas Tech Polo Club is raising money by raffling off a 12-gauge shotgun. According to the entry on Tech Announce, this is no ordinary gun, but one featuring: "refined, floral and scroll engraved decoration that will make this shotgun a source of pride for years to come."
You got it "a source of pride for years to come." Here's a question for all you ladies out there: At what point during a date is it appropriate for a guy to take you back to his place to show you his elegantly crafted shotgun? I imagine the dialogue would go something like this -
Man: Check out the refined floral engravings on this sucker. You're a chick, you like flowers right?
Woman: Um, yeah it's cool, I guess.
Man: (Becoming upset.) This gun's my pride and joy. I want to shoot something with it so bad, but I'm afraid I'll damage the pretty engravings. (Pets the gun.)
Woman: (Faint sound of pant-wetting)
So maybe, Tech Polo Club members, raffling off a gun is not the best way to raise to show your devotion to Ralph Lauren. Thanks for perpetuating the gun-crazy Texan stereotype. You're doing enough damage to the image of West Texas by riding around on horses all the time, I would think the least you could do would be to not raffle off a 12-gauge like it's a Christmas ham.
Listen, Lubbock is already looking pretty bad this week without a college club gun lottery. I know part of this is The Daily Toreador's fault for running that story about Prairie Dog Town on the front page of the paper the other day. I'm sure everyone would have been just as happy not knowing a field full of mutant gerbils is Lubbock's fifth most-popular tourist attraction.
This statistic becomes even more disturbing when you take into account what the top four attractions in Lubbock are:
1. The Buddy Holly Museum
2. The future possible site of a George W. Bush-related library type-thing, maybe
3. Guinea Pig Commune
4. Your mom's house (tie)
4. Aw, snap. I totally said your mom's house. (tie)
So Lubbock's looking less and less classy, mostly thanks to weird student organizations no one cares about like the Tech Polo Club and The DT. What do you say all us little clubs call a truce to stop making Lubbock look like it's probably the place where people in New Mexico move to legally marry their first cousins?
The Tech Polo Club should raffle off turkeys or something equally less bullet-y, and The DT will stop running stories on Lubbockites' love of rodent-themed fantasy villages and go back to being the liberal rag students tear the crossword puzzle out of and then throw on the floor.