Blasting Away, At Anything That Moves

WE AS A SOCIETY have long since reached and passed the point of being surprised whenever somebody with an automatic assault rifle shows up in a public place, and starts killing randomly. One also suspects that we have long since arrvied at the point at which we as individuals are, if not outright reluctant to become part of a crowd, are at least harboring a mild, vague sense of forboding and anxiety at the thought of joining the crowds. We become cautious in deciding where to go, what to attend, which crowd to join. Entering a restaurant in a conceal carry state, you select a seat in a corner or near the front door, wondering which if any of your fellow diners are carrying, and with what intention. Who is packing heat while enjoying salsa and chips for appetizers, if any, or if all. I recall listening to a talk radio program in which the questioner asked the listener what his reaction would be were he to walk into a fast food restaurant, say, Mickey Dee's, to discover that thirty of forty people were sitting there chomping on a Big Mac, armed with holsters and pistols hanging from their belts, with perhaps ammo belts strapped across their shoulders. I recall that the listener said he would be perfectly fine with it, would, in fact, prefer it. After all, a room of heat packing "good people" is of no concern, is actually comforting; plenty of "good guys" to stop the one bad apple who might, at any monent, cut loose. Safety in numbers. A room full of pistol packing peeps, all, presumably, good guys. As for me, I would be scared and nervous as hell. How would I know, as I stood at the counter waiting for my burger, which among the well armed throng was good, and which bad, well armed with evil intent? We must presume the "good guy" part, for in fact, we simply do not know, and, well, why not assume the best? And that, my fellow first and second amendment worshippers, is precisely the point. One simply cannot tell the good from the bad by looking at someone, just as one cannot discern a Muslim by stye of dress or speech. Actions speak louder than personal appearance. Were I a Kansas City Chiefs fan who lived in or near Kansas City, I would not have attended the million member celebration rally. Not for fear of potential gun violence, but because of an aversion to excsively large crowds. An actual football game with eighty thousand people seated and relatively motionless ensconced screamers, all pulling in the same direction I can handle; a massive mob of more thana million milling hyped up overly ebullient Super Bowl celebrants packed together in swarmng,inchoate motion for me is another matter. Everybody was surprised at what happened in Kansas City; arguably, nobody should have been. Nobody seems to have suspected even the possibility; argaubly we all should all have. Hundreds of police officers had doubtless been briefed; they too were no doubt taken quite by surprise, despite thir preparation and training. A friend of mine said that he was watching live on TV when he suddenly saw people scurrying in all directions, but that he did not hear the shots in living color. What would have happened had the more than a million good guys all brought their guns to the party? A war zone, with citizen heroes pulling pieces and blazng away at presumed killers? There was no well prepared mass murderer at the party. It was a couple of pistol packing teenagers having an argument. A few other bystanders just happened to get in the way. If only all the other million man army of good guys had had access to crime stopping guns in their eager to help hands.One can scarecly iagine the potential mutual mass murdering carnage among the good citizens elebrating the Super Bowl.