I went to a firing range for target practice. First of all, I couldn’t believe how easy it was to get a total stranger to hand me a Glock 19 and 50 rounds of ammunition. You get 50 bullets for ten dollars. That’s twenty cents per bullet. Chris Rock is right, we don’t need gun control; we need bullet control. They’re even cheaper if you buy them by the hundred. All it took was a driver’s license and in five minutes I was armed to the teeth.
Then I went to the range. There were about six other guys shooting. Now, I grew up in North Saint Louis, so I’m no stranger to the sound of gunfire, but I still can’t get used to some many guns going off in such close proximity at such regular intervals. It was so nerve racking, even before I started shooting. I have to admit, it was kind of thrilling to have a Glock in my hands and blow holes in the torso of my paper target. The kick of a Glock isn’t so bad, but it’s really annoying to get hot shell casings expelled in your face every time you fire. Knife throwing is a great work out and it really relaxes me. Firing a gun just makes me tense. I was in a knot when I left the range.
The guy who runs the firing range was rather unimpressed with my marksmanship. Out of 50 rounds I hit the target 33 times, 27 potentially lethal hits. I thought I did pretty good for a man who’d never fired a weapon before. I haven’t even held a gun since my divorce.