There are a few things about handguns you'll never see in the movies. The first is an exit wound - because it's hard to enjoy those Twizzlers after watching a lung pop out of someone's rib cage. The second is recoil, because the monosyllabic hero simply can't look suave when Newton's Law kicks in and the "equal and opposite reaction" takes out his eye teeth. The third, of course, is a real gun enthusiast.

... for that, it's daytime TV.

You'd think that people who are paranoid would be a little more observant. It's not like, when they cross the tracks, they can't crawl out from under the sink on one of their hour-long hourly breaks and take in the scenery. And rather than noticing what all there is they haven't got, perhaps they might notice what isn't there that they do: no auto parts in the kitchen, no junkers in the yard, and no guns - anywhere. Of course a few of them get at least that far, before coming to another realization.

We don't own guns. We own cops.

What's the point in owning a gun when you can own the person who operates it? For five dollars an hour, we can rent a minimum-wage coolie to keep all the other minimum-wage coolies out of our neighborhoods - except maybe once a week to clean or fix or mow something. Of course, it takes more than a bit of inspiration to earn your way out of the greasy side of town - in which case, maybe his time at the shooting range isn't wasted?

... lose two more teeth, get an honorary degree from UNC.