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I Will Let the Government Confiscate My Guns. In Some Circumstances . . .

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I recently wrote a blog post where I repeated the pro-gun mantra, “you can have my guns when you pry them from my cold, dead hands.” I gave that some more thought and decided that I wasn’t being entirely truthful. There are some circumstances in which I would surrender my firearms. For example . . .

If government agents descend upon my house in force, armed and ready for a firefight, I will let them take my guns. I reckon I’d be no good to the pro-liberty, pro-gun side if I’m lying in a pool of my own blood, dead.

Oh sure, I’d make a damn fine martyr. Gun blogger slain defending his natural, civil and Constitutional right to keep and bear arms. (That’s not how the media would spin it, but you get my gist.) But I’d rather stay alive, escape the long arm of the law and continue the struggle behind a keyboard. Or, if necessary, take up arms in the defense of my country – when I have a better chance of defending myself and freedom from the instruments of oppression.

My father was Nazi slave; beaten, starved, denied shelter and medical attention. He was worked to the point of collapse. His contribution to the cause of freedom? Surviving. Emigrating to America. Raising at least one son dedicated to preserving the liberty he cherished. Would he have preferred to have shot the anti-semites who butchered his parents and destroyed his community? Absolutely. But he didn’t have the chance.

I have the chance. I’m armed against tyranny. I’m wired into a community of like-minded people. And I’m in Texas, where gun confiscation isn’t a thing. Yet. Hopefully, I could see that dark day coming – whether it’s here or somewhere else – and be ready. But there’s no guarantee. As the Brits say, it’s the bus you don’t see that kills you.

I guess the bottom line is this: if I can use my guns effectively to defend my freedom, and my children’s freedom, and the freedom of my fellow Americans, I will.  I don’t know the how, what, when or why of it. At what point does shit get real? I’ll let you know. (Hopefully not.) Meanwhile, my hands are warm and my powder is dry. Good enough?

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