Guns don’t kill people. People kill people and then the people who killed the people kill themselves with the same gun they killed the people after they bought the gun when they decided they were going to kill some people. So how many of these stories have been reported in the last couple of weeks. Like 10? 50? I seriously lost count. It’s mind-bloggling.
Sheesh. I have shooting stories fatigue and summer hasn’t even started. Prompted by last year’s gun slinging summer in Chicago, the University of Chicago issued a report recently (because a report is an excellent response to such situations) finding something like four out of five homicides involved a gun, and of those murders, the vast majority were drug and gang related. And this is new information smarties? The cynical side of me thinks that at the very least gang shootings make sense on some level, compared to these bizarre mass slayings. To a gang member, it’s business right? A cease and desist order if you will, without the billable hours of an attorney.
However, the frosted side of me wishes all guns would magically turn into lollipops and then the worst damage they could cause would be tooth decay. And then if you really wanted to get rid of someone, you’d have to tie them to a railroad track like the good ol days. (Black cape, top hat, and long mustache is optional. Diabolical wringing of the hands in anticipation while waiting for the train is not.)
For the time being, I’ve decided to boycott most crime coverage in the media (except that fascinating Pirate story, of course.) Yet, I will continue to read this neighborhood paper’s crime blotter which reports such stories as this one:
A 35-year old Chicago man started singing loudly during a performance of the musical “Rent” April 5 at 9:30 p.m. at the Oriental Theatre. Theatre security asked the man to leave, but he refused. Security notified police. . .
Scuttlebutt 