| Monday, October 14, 2002 |
 | Once again I find my mind drawn to the USA, and what a wery wery strange place it is. As Bush's reliance on the consumer spending bubble looks increasingly threadbare as a strategy, Michael Moore is sharpening his claws again, this time on the NRA, and in general on the US' culture of fear. Now, to be fair, if I were the only nation ever to be invaded by Canada, I'd be pretty twitchy as well.
However, it turns out that most of the 11,000 people who die from firearm-inflicted wounds in America per year are not in fact Canadian, or the English oppressor, but American. Which seems somewhat wilful of them; a sort of ongoing mass suicide. Plus, Charlton Heston will get all spunk on him, which is never good.
So, problem. Guns are really sexy. Just ask the American equivalent of White Van Man - very much like our own, but with a penchant for leaving tarot cards and little notes saying "Dear Police, I am God" lying around rather than crisp wrappers (and I love the insouciance of the declaration. "I am God. Hope the family's well. Yours Aye, G."). And guns don't kill people. Bullets kill people.
So, why not make bullets incredibly rare and expensive, so that anyone will have to be really pissed off with you before they shoot you? That way we can increase the piece/peace, without totally ruling out the possibility of civilian militia skirmishes around Niagra Falls.
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