A Letter to the Ammosexuals

Your guns will not save you.

You sit impassive on a throne of mangled flesh and shattered bone that grows higher and heavier with each passing day’s massacre of the innocent and you lash out with unhinged fury at those who say to you that this is immoral, that this is unacceptable, that this is a travesty of all that is sacred and holy, that this needs to change, and your guns will not save you.

You cling to your guns above all else, above human decency, above morality, above your obligations as a citizen and your duties as a community member, as if those guns mean anything more than bloodshed, as if they make you a “patriot” or a “good guy,” and your guns will not save you.

You throw your faith in a twisted caricature of a god into the faces of all who work to make this world a better place, not knowing or caring that any god worthy of the name will cast you aside and blot your name from memory unto the seventh generation. You will someday face your god and that god will turn away from you, and your guns will not save you.

You stockpile instruments of slaughter because you are weak, because you are too immature or greedy or inhumane to recoil in horror at the cost of your actions. You are content to ignore that cost as long as it is borne by the children of others because you find that cost an acceptable price for others to pay to satisfy your own desires, and to justify that bloodshed as the necessary price of your free access to your precious toys, and your guns will not save you.

You work unceasingly to make more massacres inevitable, to block any effort to fix the problem as every civilized nation on earth has already done, and your toddler-level understanding of freedom and rights has more hold on the shriveled remnants of your soul than the lives you claim to hold dear, and your guns will not save you.

They will not.