Another day, another gun store. In contrast to my last experience, where a “take a number” machine was obvious by its absence, tumbleweeds blew across the floor. And no wonder. The store was harder to find than a cigar smoker in a maternity ward. I’ve seen mid-rank collectors with a greater number and variety of firearms. The salesmanship was cursory at best, derisory at worst. When a rube entered their darkened den and asked for a handgun for his wife (who couldn’t deal with a semi), the sales guy whipped out a Smith & Wesson Airlight and said “All she has to do is pull the trigger. You can’t miss.” Wow. What’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever heard in a gun store (aside from the price of a Wilson Combat 1911)?