America… just a nation of two hundred million used car salesmen with all the money we need to buy guns and no qualms about killing anybody else in the world who tries to make us uncomfortable.
Hunter S. Thompson
Two Hundred Million Used Car Salesmen walk into a neighborhood bar. A guy with red hair says, "Barkeep, what IPAs you got on tap?" And the man next to him, big bearded guy in a Yankees cap, sucks down the last of his Miller Lite, pulls a Ruger from his pants, and blasts the offending ginger in the head. Brain matter splatters the bartender and etc. Reporters have to sort out 199,999,999 stories before the evening news. A source close to the victim says that though he often extolled the virtues of Indie microbreweries in a "kind of bray" after midnight, he was essentially a good guy, never hurt no one, so how'd he end up with a cap in his ass after ordering a Sam Adams at Richard Cranium's Bar? Meanwhile, police say it has nothing to do with race, because all lives matter (even swill-sucking hipster liberal lives), and also it is not true that the shooter was an off-duty cop who managed to slip away in the confusion, but that in fact they have no leads at this time and are not taking any more questions. NRA lobbyists argue it was not the Ruger that killed the redhead but the unsub's finger on the plastic trigger. One bad apple, that is, and not one of the millions of decent Americans who should be able to bear arms without submitting to invasive background checks, mental health records, or ridiculous waiting periods. A half dozen local high school students take to the streets in protest, forgetting homework. Some of them break a few shop windows. At least, that's what the armed out-of-town anti- protesters say is the case when they're stopped by the burning gas station and etc. A lot more Americans stay home, weighing in online. They make a lot of Chuck Norris jokes. A meme goes viral: "How many Chuck Norrises does it take to to screw in a lightbulb? / None. Chuck prefers to kill in the dark."
