Some Days, My Brain Hurts

Let’s get two things out of the way.

First, there is no ammunition ban, tax or other restriction being enacted this week.  I know my stuff.  Please stop yelling at me.

Second, if you wear sweatpants, please, for the love of God, consider underwear.

I had three phone calls and three visits in person before lunch from people who were panicked over some impending regulation on ammunition.  Apparently, it was scheduled to become law either January 1st or January 10th, depending on who was telling it.

It’s bunk, and I’d love to find out who’s spreading this crap.  One man was very agitated, and chewed me out because the store wasn’t open New Year’s Eve.  Why?  Because that was the last day before we have to register ammo! Therefore, we must have decided to close because we wanted people to suffer while we rolled around naked on piles of pre-ban ammunition and laughed at them.

At least that’s the way he seemed to see it.  Trust me, if such a thing was even remotely true, a box of 9mm would have been $100 before Christmas, and there wouldn’t be any out there now.  It would be in the mainstream media.

If you’re inclined to panic about things you read online without checking for legitimate sources, the internet is not for you.

Now, underpants.  I never again in my life want to have this conversation:

“Sir, I’ve had some complaints, and I have to ask you to make sure you keep your pants pulled up when you shoot.”

“Why?”

“Because you bend over while you shoot, and they fall down to your knees.”

“Yeah?”

“And you’re not wearing underwear.  Some people find this…um, look, just hitch them up, please.”

Fortunately, he consented.  The man was easily 400lbs.  There’s something very wrong with my life when I’m having conversations like that.

There’s something very wrong with the world in general when I have to carry on conversations like that.