Sometimes I miss being an optomist
by Dennis E. Florian
GunOwnersResource
I never used to be like this, you know. Once upon a time, I was the most laid back guy you could ever have met. I existed in tie-dye, played the guitar, wrote sappy poetry, grew my hair down to my beltline and even worked for Greenpeace for a while. In other words, I was a close to a hippy as you can get without being stoned. And I've still got the stack of old Grateful Dead tapes to prove it.
I'd be lying (to myself as much as you) if I weren't to say that there are a great many things that change someone from the man they were to the one they are. I'm no different that way. But I can honestly say that, more than any other single thing, it was the Firearms Act — and what it did to my country — that put the most work into making the cynical bugger who bangs out the stuff on these pages. The fear and loathing that it introduced into the culture of my birth has been the greatest test to the strength of my faith in my fellow man.
But that's not what I'm here to write about today. Go figure.
