B Rant: Gun Control Etched in Futura

by Brantly Martin

6 January 2016

 B = me 

Rant = declaim violently and with little sense; rave

Craig slid his alarm off, popped four Excedrin, tapped Instagram (two new followers) and surveyed the top of his dresser drawer: watch, money clip, ChapStick, Glock. He was meeting up with his team in four hours and wanted to hit the shooting range first. He liked to stay sharp. It was, after all, part of his job. 

Craig drove away from the shooting range and toggled thru XM Radio: Pearl Jam, 90s Hip-Hop, Classic Rock, Jazz. He'd been drinking just a bit more than he was comfortable with of late. No biggie. Nothing dark. But he'd missed a few early morning workouts. He couldn't remember the last time he sat down and tapped the Buddhify app, or worked on his Spanish via the Duolingo app. This new assignment was taking a toll.

Craig's boss told the team tonight's fundraiser had been moved, on account of the unseasonably warm weather, from one donor's West Village brownstone to the terrace of another donor's co-op on the Upper West Side. The boss gave a grimace-pause … and told the team the threats against the candidate had increased. They would be doubling their security detail: from four to eight. The boss told the team he was in contact with a government agency that would remain unnamed, and that this agency would have four of their men “on patrol,” including two snipers. 

The Candidate—“The First Real Independent for President”—was, depending who you asked, either the savior American politics needed, or (according to both the Democrat and Republican establishment) a mutinous wild card capable of sinking the USS OMERTA once and for all. The Candidate was a mother, a self-made billionaire, widowed in the San Francisco terrorist attacks of 2022, by far the best public speaker of the three candidates, and—let's be honest—beautiful (it didn’t' hurt). She was polling above the other two candidates (but barely) and that was causing a disturbance in the binary Americana Force. The threats against her life were real. Real!: they weren't the threats against the first black President! or the first female President! but were threats against The Threat to the very system of Death From (the invisible &) Above. 

* * * *

The Candidate was what some would call “moderate” on gun issues and what some would call “totalitarian.”  As she meditated in the sitting room of the Upper West Side co-op, going over her speech, she was well aware of the slice-o-pie-veracity and binary-world omnipotence of those hoping—(Darwinian needing?)—to add her to the list of assassinated Americans. She felt LBJ's specter and Hoover's neurotic repression: impending violence. But mostly she felt the impending burden of the speech's honesty she was about to chemically change: What was cranium-contained shall soon be digitally-dispersed. (Ain't no goin back on dat!) The Candidate was about to be Honest about … Guns in America!


The Candidate

Thanks to everyone that paid to drink champagne with me in this lovely home tonight. 

(100 glasses raised)

Thanks to everyone that paid to drink champagne virtually with me in this lovely home tonight—from their lovely home. 

(40 thousand glasses raised virtually)

And a very special thanks to everyone that found a way to drop in without paying a dime.

(millions of giggles and joints pulled)

Let's talk about guns. Right now I have about twenty well-trained—the best-trained—men inside this home, outside this home, on the roofs of other homes … protecting me through the threat of lethal precision and firepower. Some of these men are in my employ; others are in the employ of the US government—Yes, your taxpaying dollars are helping to protect me!

And—yes, I'm for gun control to the point of tearing up the second amendment. So—do I think I'm better than you? In a way, yes. I'm running for President—leading in the polls!—and you are not. I'm running as a true independent, risking my life in the process—and you are not! I'm a billionaire—and you are not! We are not all the same. Life is unfair and so is America. It's time we grow up as a country. We are not all equal. We never were and we never will be. I will continue to be protected by firearms twenty-four hours a day while I do my best to remove as many guns from America as I can.  I also receive tax breaks that you don't. This is America—it always has been. I'm not the perfect candidate but I'm better than the other two. Thanks for the financial contribution and let's elect The First Real Independent for President!

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