Most gun owner that I know are pleasant people, that is until they get on the subject of firearms with a liberal. Like my friend packing her pistol into the alcohol serving restaurant, why do seemingly ordinary citizens get so uptight about whether or not they get to carry around a little lethal chunk of lead spitting metal?
What does the average gun owner look like? The answer depends on who you talk to. Once driving through Kentucky with my father, we saw a man driving a Pontiac with a perfectly round basketball sized shotgun pattern of dents in the middle of the driver’s door. At that moment, I would have painted you a picture of toothless mountain dweller in a shack, shining shotguns with a dirty sock and taking moonshine assisted potshots at raccoons in the yard and hitting the family car instead. One hopes that the family was not unloading groceries from it at the time.
My in-laws are the unhappy but prim handgun owners. Surly brooding types, who worry excessively about what others think of them. The sort who comment on your clothes, roll their eyes at you, attend church regularly and are prone to making vague threats separated by long silences. We no longer speak. Based upon my experience with the in-laws, I would have described a gun owner as being the love child of Hyacinth Bucket and Jack the Ripper.
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