On New Years Day my sister and I went shooting on our parents’ land in Virginia along with a dozen of her friends. Three of them are responsible gun owners, and among them they had enough weapons for us to take turns into what amounted to about four hours’ worth of target practice, with about $20 worth of ammunition each.
Of course some photos came out about this, which ended up on Facebook. This is somewhat controversial among my Mexican friends, understandably. The war going on down here is being fought with assault weapons smuggled in from the United States.
I don’t really feel apologetic about my rights, so I haven’t apologized, but I have maybe felt the need to justify myself for playing with guns. People aren’t very open to hearing it, but I think I was kind of a little successful the other day after watching Full Metal Jacket and trying to tell my friend that it wasn’t just his Blu-Ray and HD TV, or even the brilliance of Stanley Kubrick, that made me flinch whenever someone was torn apart with bullets in the film. It was remembering how the Colt 45 felt and sounded each time it blew up in my hands.