Coot wrote:Go figger!:laugh:
I visited a few small towns in Arkansas some weeks ago and one thing that made my mouth fall open was the large amount of rifles that many of these people own. More than that, people generally don't lock their doors in that area, so you can just go in the backdoor and see three, four or five heavyduty firearms hanging on the wall. Now, the locals there are among the friendliest, warmest and non-violentest people you'll ever meet, but still, for somebody from a country that has such radically different laws about guns that's very alien.
P.S.: Chanak, I didn't post this to debate you, of course. I visited other parts of the US where there was nary a gun to be found.
LOL! The scene you described above is quite vivid in my mind, since I've seen it myself time and time again. I can only imagine how flabbergasted you must have been.
Coot: "Buh-buh-buh-by the way Mr. Turnipseed, is that a .50 caliber elephant gun I see laying on your kitchen tuh-tuh-tuh-table?"
Mr. Turnipseed: "Why shure thang it is, Mr. Coot. Wanna take her out back and shoot some holes in the woodshed? Maw won't mind. Junior does it all the time."
Coot: "Wuh-wuh-wuh-well, Mr. Turnipseed, I would be happy to oblige, buh-buh-buh-but you see, I have a flight to catch, my hayfever is acting up, and as it is I have to guh-guh-guh-go now." :speech:
The misconception is, as you pointed out, that all Americans live that way. Not all Americans drive trucks with a gunrack mounted on the backglass. That, and not all Americans will have a Pit Bull or Rottweiler in the bed of said truck, unrestrained and snarling at passersby. You won't find that everywhere...
...however, you
will find that in
certain areas. :laugh:
EDIT: I knew a fellow who owned a small farm in the Tennessee countryside (apart from Memphis, Nashville and Chattanooga, that describes the entire state
). On the weekends, this was his entertainment: close to midnight on Friday and Saturday nights he would gather up one of his rifles, a box of bullets, something to drink and a flashlight. He would station himself at a good vantage point looking into his chicken coop, and proceed to shoot rats for hours. His method: he would listen for evidence of a rat in the chicken house. Upon hearing one, he illuminated the area with the flashlight, startling the rat. BOOM.
He had hired me to do some work on a polebarn he was erecting. We worked late into a Friday night, so he offered his couch as a place for me to crash out. I woke up that later that night to the sound of gunfire!
I decided to investigate, which was how I discovered his...pasttime. Too curious to get the heck out of there, I sat down and watched him in action for a while. I'll be damned, the guy never missed one of those rats. He killed in excess of 14 that night. :speech:
