I am happy. The guns-in-bars bill nobody in Nashville really wanted is becoming law, thanks to our state legislature overriding
the governor’s veto.
We’ve heard so many lily-livered arguments against the bill over the last two years, even Gandhi might pick up a salad fork and think twice about his legacy.
Tennessee has been in a deficit situation, and that deficit has been in the category of awesomeness. This new law will fix that, and we can once again show the nation that “Tennessee Stud” is more than a song by Jimmy Driftwood.
It used to be when you were trying to show off how awesome you were, all you had to do was drive around town in a cherry red Corvette, slap on some Hai Karate aftershave, walk into a bar and just exude magnificence. Those were halcyon days, but then came the fall. We got metrosexuals, Sex and the City and low-calorie water. I swear, for a time there, I thought all this was a commie plot to get us to let our guard down. Good thing I saw Red Dawn.
It won’t be long until these pantywaists come up with some new way to take away our awesomeness that comes with the gun I can now carry into Hooters. What we need to do now is crank this momentum to 11.
Instead of wearing a holster that is too often camouflaged by camouflage, we need to show off our pearl handles with our love handles. From now on, when you wear a gun into a bar, wear a Speedo with it. The beltline tuck should be no problem with this gear. And it will send a powerful message: Not only are you not afraid of any potential terrorists or gangsters — but the makers of Lipitor can go stick it as well.
Another argument I’ve been hearing is over the cost of all this. I’ve heard things like, “Tourists aren’t going to come here,” and “This will kill our convention business,” and “Who is going to pay for all the people who get shot?” Well, folks, those questions are already answering themselves.
The tourists and conventions aren’t coming because we got flooded. And we all pay for those people who get shot, guilty of some crime or not.
You don’t believe that last part? Up in Louisville, Ky., there’s a guy named Dr. Bill Smock, who keeps track of all this stuff and calls it the “Gun Shot Wound Registry,” which sounds like something you can sign up for at Walmart when your cousin gets married.
They wrote about him in the Louisville Courier-Journal: “In 2008, there were $18.3 million in charges to treat 419 gunshot cases, up from $7.6 million for 336 cases in 1996, the first year of Smock’s study. In 2007, it was $16.8 million to treat 432 cases.”
And there was this: “Because most shooting victims are uninsured, much of the money to treat them is never recovered. Treatment for an average gunshot patient in 2008 cost more than $43,000, according to Smock’s research. Most of those charges were absorbed by the hospital, which recoups an average of $5,000 for uninsured gunshot patients from the Quality Care Charitable Trust, a state and local public fund for those who can’t pay for their medical care.”
I don’t know about you, but that’s a lot of Snickers bars if we’re not careful who we’re aiming at.