The idea that firearms owners should be forced to insure their guns is nothing new. Gun grabbers have glommed onto it with gusto for years. Ignoring the fact that government-mandated gun insurance falls squarely under the “shall not be infringed” part of the Second Amendment, and that driving is not a natural, civil or Constitutionally protected right, it must be said (by a mindful Jew like me, anyway) that gun registration leads to gun confiscation which opens the door to state-sponsored murder and mass extermination. To make that point perfectly clear, I draw your attention to the prologue of Neal Knox’s book The Gun Rights War . . .
In Charley’s little town in Belgium, there lived an old man, a gunsmith. The old man was friendly with the kids and welcomed them to his shop. He had once been an armorer to the King of Belgium, according to Charley. He told us of the wonderful guns he had crafted using only hand tools. There were double shotguns and fine rifles with beautiful hardwood stocks and gorgeous engraving and inlay work. Charley liked the old man and enjoyed looking at the guns. He often did chores around the shop.
One day the gunsmith sent for Charley. Arriving at the shop, Charley found the old man carefully oiling and wrapping guns in oilcloth and paper. Charley asked what he was doing. The old smith gestured to a piece of paper on the workbench and said that an order had come to him to register all his guns. He was to list every gun with a description on a piece of paper and then to send the paper to the government.
The old man had no intention of complying with the registration law and had summoned Charley to help him bury the guns at a railroad crossing. Charley asked why he didn’t simply comply with the order and keep the guns. The old man, with tears in his eyes, replied to the boy “If I register them, they will be taken away.”
A year or two later, the blitzkreig rolled across the Low Countries. One day not long after the war arrived in Charley’s town. A squad of German SS troops banged on the door of a house that Charley knew well. The family had twin sons about Charley’s age. The twins were his best friends. The officer displayed a paper describing a Luger pistol, a relic of the Great War, and ordered the father to produce it. That old gun had been lost, stolen or misplaced after it had been registered, the father explained. He did not know where it was.
The officer told the father he had exactly fifteen minutes to produce the weapon. The family turned their house upside down. No pistol.
They returned to the SS officer, empty-handed.
The officer gave an order and soldiers herded the family outside while other troops called the entire town to the square. There on the town square the SS machine-gunned the entire family—father, mother, Charley’s two friends, their older brother and a baby sister.
Progressives don’t believe such a thing is possible in America. Let me put it this way: firearms are our insurance that it won’t. ‘Nuff said?