Long live the Fuck You revolution.
A bit of military wisdom has it that you should never give an order you know won’t be obeyed. Issuing such an order accomplishes nothing except to undermine your authority and expose the extent to which, no matter what enforcement mechanisms are in place, you rely upon voluntary compliance. But now that Connecticut’s resident class of politically employed cretins has awoken to the fact that, in their state, like everywhere else, people overwhelmingly disobey orders to register their weapons, they’re acting like this is a shocking revelation. They’re also promising to make those who tried to comply, but missed the deadline regret the effort (proving the point of the openly defiant). And the politicians’ enablers in the press are screaming for the prosecution of “scores of thousands” of state residents who, quite predictably, flipped the bird at the government.
Three years ago, the Connecticut legislature estimated there were 372,000 rifles in the state of the sort that might be classified as “assault weapons,” and two million plus high-capacity magazines. Many more have been sold in the gun-buying boom since then. But by the close of registration at the end of 2013, state officials received around 50,000 applications for “assault weapon” registrations, and 38,000 applications for magazines.
Some people actually tried to comply with the registration law, but missed the deadline. The state’s official position is that it will accept applications notarized on or before January 1, 2014 and postmarked by January 4. But, says Dora Schriro, Commissioner of the Department of Emergency Services and Public Protection, in a letter to lawmakers, anybody sufficiently law-abiding but foolish enough to miss that slightly extended grace period will have to surrender or otherwise get rid of their guns.
This, of course, is the eternally fulfilled fear of those who oppose registration of things governments don’t like—that allowing the government to know about them will result in their eventual confiscation. Such confiscation, despite assurances to the contrary, occurred in New York, California, and elsewhere. Connecticut has accomplished something special, though, by making “eventual” a synonym for “right now.”
You know who won’t have to surrender their weapons? People who quietly told the state to fuck off.
All that’s well and good, of course, and hats off to those stout Connecticut residents who have refused the bit. But here’s the bottom line:
But compliance with gun registration would have been a historical aberration. Gun restrictions of all sorts breed defiance everywhere they’re introduced. About 25 percent of Illinois handgun owners actually complied when that state’s registration law was introduced in the 1970s, according to Don B. Kates, a criminologist and civil liberties attorney, writing in the December 1977 issue of Inquiry. Then, when California began registering “assault weapons” in 1990, The New York Times reported after the registration period came to a close that “only about 7,000 weapons of an estimated 300,000 in private hands in the state have been registered.”
Similar defiance occurred in Australia, Canada, and many European countries. People, unsurprisingly, seem to think that being armed is not a bad thing, and that governments can’t be trusted.
Can’t imagine why.
To the liberal-fascists who still seem to believe that waving the magic legislative wand solves all problems: we defy you. You will never take us all down–NEVER. Some of us will never kneel to you and your goddamned meddling government; some of us will resist you to our dying breath, in as many different fashions as there are individuals among us. Some of us will openly fight you, with all the violence we deem necessary and can bring to bear; some of us will seek to clandestinely and quietly undermine you, or sabotage you and your works and constructs. Some of us will mock you, and scorn you, and pretend to fealty while teaching our children the exact opposite. ALL of us despise you, and will work against you just as hard as we possibly can, by any means available to us and appropriate to our situation.
In the long run: You. Can. Not. Win. We defy you. Try as you like to mow us all down; pat yourselves on the back in smug satisfaction at each and every seeming victory by your hollow Grey Men: in the courts, in the Congress, in the media, in all the places where empty suits gather to spin their webs, make their sordid deals, and dictate to their betters. We will still be there, forever out of your reach. We defy you. We always will.
Count on it. Leave us alone; it’s not too much to ask. Just leave us the hell alone. If you know what’s good for you, if you care about what’s good for this nation, just keep your noses out of our affairs, mind your own business, tend to your own knitting. Some of us don’t wish to be turned into New Progressive Man, and won’t go along with your totalitarian program no matter what you do; some of us don’t want your silken fetters around our necks; some of us don’t want or need your “help.” And some of us aren’t afraid of you, no matter how much illegitimate power you glom onto for yourselves, or how many petty little laws you pass, or how many militarized Gestapo squads you send to our homes to bring us under your heel temporarily.
All such power is, as Tuccille says, illusory, dependent on ratification by our consent and compliance. That compliance is not forthcoming, which simple fact renders you and your henchmen and minions buffoonish and absurd: clowns in jackboots, punks pretending to manhood, usurpers of a throne that not one of you is strong enough to seize on your own.
You sit back in your little enclaves and picture the rest of us cowering and crouching and slavering at the approaching onslaught, because that’s what you yourselves would do if the positions were reversed. But just because you lack the wit or imagination or experience to dream of any other response–in your dorm rooms or faculty lounges or op-ed meetings or think-tank debates or legislative strategy sessions-doesn’t mean there isn’t one.
There is far more in this world, Poindexter, than is dreamed of in your shitty little philosophy.
You wish to dominate and subjugate far better and stronger men than yourselves; your presumption is boundless, as you reach out with puny, scrawny arms to throttle the tiger. But we still have some teeth to us yet. If even a place as far gone down the primrose Progressivist path as Connecticut–Connecticut, for Christ’s sake–is still home to this many resistant freedom-lovers who refuse to meekly yield, then there are bound to be more of us out there than could possibly haunt your sweatiest, most feverish nightmare.
This won’t be your final warning, not quite yet, but it soon will be: leave us alone. Failing that, come and take them, you puling, pussified, officious douchebags. Come to Mississippi and try it; come to Montana. Come to Texas, by God. Just try it. Send Pajama Boy, why don’tcha. Send a whole army of Pajama Boys. See what you get in the end.
Sit back and wring your hands over what troglodytic haters we all are; denounce us in your dying, lying newspapers and on your unwatched MSNBC/CNN/ABC/whatever shows as bigots, as throwbacks, as anachronisms, as unenlightened, vicious droolcases. We don’t give as much as a single shit, I promise you. Your dunderheaded opinion means absolutely nothing to us; your laws mean nearly as little, and mean only as much as they do insofar as they inconvenience us and force us to trouble ourselves to find a way to go around them. But there always is one, and people always find it.
We defy you. Come and take them. You never-to-be-sufficiently-damned little turds.
Update! “I love the people who say you could never deport all the illegals, but who think you could lock up all the gun owners.” Again, and in spades: in-fucking-deed.