In Which It Is a Day Ending in 'Y'

Law enforcement officials have declared the San Bernardino shootings a "terrorist attack."  Fair enough.  I can't disagree.  But Republican candidates are racing to declare that this designation somehow obviates the need for better gun control laws.  What is needed, they claim, is not stricter laws but a "recognition" that we are at war.  Liberals, they say, won't acknowledge that the Islamic State has declared war on the United States and, indeed, Western Civilization.

OK, Republicans: I acknowledge this.  I acknowledge this mostly because I read the newspapers and am an informed citizen and live in the real world, and I have heard all about how the leaders of the Islamic State have called on their followers to attack and kill "infidels" wherever they may be found.

But because I live in the real world, etc., etc.--and because I acknowledge that there are psychopaths--including here in the United States and including far too many (Robert Dear, Dylann Roof) inspired by things other than "Islamic" beliefs--who subscribe to apocalyptic worldviews mandating death for "undesirables"--because of all this I would like to see some attempt to make it slightly more difficult for these enemy terrorists to legally acquire weapons--as all of those listed above did!

So the GOP would have us do everything in our power to combat terrorists--everything, that is, except actually disarm them.

In Which We Talk about What We Talk about When We Talk about Guns

What really gets me is that, if you slice through the hyperbolic rhetoric--"Obama's a-comin' for yer guns!!!"--the actual proposals that most people talk about when they talk about gun control are things you would think the vast majority of people--Democrat or Republican, black or white, rich or poor--would have very little problem with: Close loopholes that allow people to avoid background checks when buying guns at gun shows.  Require people to undergo training before being licensed to carry a gun.  Maybe require gun owners to carry insurance.

It's not accidental, by the way, that many proposals mirror regulations generally associated with automobile ownership.  A standard (and oh-so-tired) argument put forth by gun enthusiasts is that, if we want to save lives, we should ban cars not guns.  A specious argument, of course, as almost nobody actually talks about banning guns, merely regulating them and making it more difficult for sociopaths to amass arsenals.  But still, if we're going to compare guns to cars, I'm all for that.  If we simply regulated guns as much as we regulate cars, we'd be well on our way to solving the mass shooter problem.

If it will make the enthusiasts happy, I will go on record (as I have before) as a proud liberal and say that I have no desire to see guns confiscated.  If it makes you feel safer to keep a gun in your house, fine.  I will even say that I understand the gun owners' concerns about legislation that would ban a particular type of gun or limit the number of guns a person can own.  I don't agree with those concerns, but I understand them.  To go back to the car metaphor, most people would take issue with the government limiting the number or type of vehicles a person can own.  So in that regard, I understand a person being troubled at the thought of government officials restricting his/her right to own, say, a small army's worth of guns.  Probably not as troubled as I am by wondering why someone would feel the need to own said small army's worth of guns, but troubled nonetheless.  Still, I would point out that different types of vehicle--motorcycle, boat, truck--require different types of licensure.  Maybe a person who wants to own a military-grade semi-automatic weapon should go through greater training requirements than a person who simply wants to pack a derringer.

My point is, I am willing to concede that some of the points made by gun-rights activists have merit.  Now, could the NRA return the favor and concede that some of the points made by those of us who simply want to live our lives without constantly wondering if we will be the next victims of heavily armed sociopaths also have merit.  Can we please find some common ground and do. . . well, something?!?

In Which We Fix the Classics

Holly Wilson always dreamed of the "perfect wedding."  Even as a young girl, she would flip through bridal magazines and clip pictures of her favorite dresses and veils and other wedding accessories.  Throughout high school and college, she would at least partially judge every boy she dated by how she imagined he would look in a tuxedo, standing at the altar, slipping a ring on her finger.  Of course, when the time came to plan her own wedding, she made it into a full-time job (much to the chagrin of her colleagues and supervisor at the dental office where she worked as a receptionist).  Venue, decorations, flowers, bridesmaid dresses, invitations--no detail was too small for Holly to obsess over.  On the big day, Holly looked radiant; her groom seemed sprung from the pages of a men's fashion magazine.  Everything was perfect!  And then midway through the ceremony, the sprinkler system in the church inexplicably went off, drenching the gathered celebrants before they could scramble for cover.  Holly laughed it off as best she could, but deep down she was traumatized--and the marriage itself,  seemingly cursed at the outset, never recovered.  Less than two years later, Holly and her husband went their separate ways.

This isn't a sad story, though.  Holly soon met someone else, someone superior to her first husband in all respects.  They fell in love and quickly decided to get married, and Holly, perhaps chastened by her first experience, vowed not to get too overwhelmed in the planning.  The one thing she did decide immediately, though, was that she would hold this wedding outdoors, in a beautiful spot in a local park, away from any temperamental fire-suppression technology.  On the day itself, her friends and family gathered at the appointed location, under a majestic elm, next to a gently burbling brook.  Birds twittered charmingly, and Holly's Aunt Michelle swore she even saw a deer peeking out from behind a stand of trees not far from the wedding party.  Everything was perfect!  And then, as the priest began the ceremony, the sunny skies suddenly darkened and, despite all meteorological assurances to the contrary, a tremendous rain cascaded down on Holly's wedding party.

There.  You're welcome, Alanis!

In Which We Dream a Little Dream of Someone We Apparently Already Know

Scrolling through Facebook yesterday, I came across a link to "12 Amazing Facts about Sleep." Blatant clickbait to be sure, and so, obviously, I clicked.  The first fact was, indeed, kind of amazing, to wit, that you can only dream of faces you've actually seen--even if you don't consciously remember seeing them.  Fascinating. And then I thought about that statement.  "Wait a second. How could you possibly prove that?" I mean, I can certainly dream of PLACES I've never been. I'm willing to accept that faces differ from places--for one thing, they have an 'f'--but still. If I dream of a person I've never seen, how can anyone prove that I've actually seen that person, but that I just don't remember it? Sounds like something sleep scientists came up with to make themselves look cool at parties.

Interesting ramification:  If I meet ithe girl of my dreams, then I've actually met her before. I just didn't know it.