Good advice, for anyone who has a stalker, lives in a bad neighborhood, owns property they'd like to be able to defend against those who would take it, or otherwise places their own life and the lives of their friends and families above the lives of random thugs.

Likewise good advice for those who wish to avoid being herded into boxcars.

Politicians prefer unarmed victims.

Suggestions on buying a firearm. Obviously some of these guidelines only apply if you live in the United States of America, but some of them are good advice anywhere.

1.) If you've never used a gun before, go to a gun shop and discuss your needs with the people who work there. They typically have a lot of experience with guns and can help you figure out what you need. Tell them that you've never used a gun before, and ask them where you can go to get lessons in how to properly handle the firearm.
2.) If you're a female member of the race, and you go to a gun store, don't let them sell you a girl gun. That is, don't let them sell you a particular calibre of firearm, or steer you away from another, merely because you are female. Ask them specifically if what they're trying to sell you is something they would feel comfortable carrying through a dark alley. (There are some limits to this rule, but mostly they don't apply just to females. If you weigh 70 pounds and you're 4 foot 8, you probably won't want a .50 cal Desert Eagle. *I* think they kick too much to be really effective, and I'm 6 foot 5. But this applies to small boys as well. It is possible to buy too much gun. But buying too little gun is a problem as well.)
3.) Now that you know what type of gun it is you want, and what caliber you need, buy some ammo from the store. If things go well, that's all you'll ever buy from them, and it's nice to buy something for their help in enhancing your knowledge. Go look in your local newspaper. If it's not run by statist gun-grabbers, it'll have a classified section for firearms. Buy a firearm from someone who is not a licensed dealer. This is known as a private sale, and this means that you won't have your transaction subjected to unconstitutional federal laws about waiting periods, background checks, or registration. If your state has laws regarding registration of firearms, you might take this opportunity to fill out their form. Or, you might not. California (for example) requires registration of all firearms. Recently they used the list of registered owners to confiscate a wide variety of semi-automatic rifles.
4.) If you can't find what you need in the paper, go to a Gun Show. In the Albuquerque, NM area, we have a gun show every 2 months or so, pretty much like clockwork. Private sales at these events are like private sales anywhere else, and you can often find great deals on parts for your firearm.
5.) Find a Gun Owners Group in your area, and go to meetings. Ask if they know of anyone selling a firearm like what you want. These people will frequently know other people with firearms, and some of them will be looking to sell.
6.) Failing all of that, give in to the fascists, and go buy your firearm at a regular licensed dealer. You'll be registered, but at least you'll hve a firearm. If the government decides they want to confiscate all the guns of they type you bought, you can always say "No." And you'll have a gun to back it up with.
7.) Take your training class (if you've never used a gun before) and find a shooting range where you can practice firing your gun. It's worse than useless if you aren't comfortable holding it, and firing it, and can't hit what you're shooting at.
8.) If you have children, either take them with you, or teach them about firearms yourself. Many training classes will allow children in for free if a parent is taking lessons, both because it's good PR, and because these people don't want untrained kids playing around with firearms either.
9.) Practice.
10.) Practice.
11.) Practice some more. Practice regularly. Practice until you're really good, and comfortable, and prepared.

Ah, the old right to bear arms argument. Tedious and contentious at best. Guns are legal here in America; we have the highest innocents-killed-accidentally ratio in the world, outside of countries in which wars are actually being fought. Where’s the beef? You want to be safe? Shut up and keep your head down would get the job done as well I suspect.

It’s the whole issue of buying guns that gets to me. Why aren’t we born with guns? If guns are an inalienable American right, maybe they should be issued at birth, along with those little knitted head-warmers that look so cute in the nursery. Pink revolvers for girls, blue automatics for boys (who for some reason will grow up doing most of the shooting and will need the firepower).

Consider another way to get guns for free: enlist in the military. They give you guns there. Cool ones. I had an M16A1 rifle (very chic when cruising into a service club, where you had to check your weapons at the door, like a dance hall in Dodge City in a movie). The M16A1 is fully automatic; you can get a magazine that holds 30 rounds, though you really only want to load 28--basically enough to kill a baseball team and its owner’s family.

I had an M79 grenade launcher--a thump gun--also a chic weapon with a stylish sling and a barrel diameter as big as a spaldeen--one of those pink rubber balls you city kids bang against your front stoop. The very destructive projectile you loaded into your M79, like a shotgun, breaking at the breech, resembled a little R2-D2. It’d kill any cluster-fuck of less-well-armed morons standing within thee or four hundred yards.

My favorite free weapon was the M60 Machine Gun. Very cool; portable; does a lot of damage in a very short time if you can carry enough ammo and allow for the fact that you are the first one the enemy will try to kill.

When three of us would pull bunker guard together all night, alternating marijuana smoking and sleeping in two hour shifts, we also had plenty of back-up firepower, which I notice not too many “buy a gun” advocates endorse. This, I believe, should be rethought. For absolute security, I cannot recommend enough the M26 Fragmentation Hand Grenade. If you can throw a baseball, you can kill a batter, a catcher, an umpire, and probably knock out a couple of the taller fans in a small National League park quite easily.

For those less athletically inclined, there’s one more sure-fire (ahem) bet: that would be the handy-dandy manually-electrically detonated M18A1 Claymore Mine. A nifty package of plastique explosive and lethal BB’s about the size of a best-selling novel that basically discourages just about anybody. From ever breathing again.

Free guns. Free food. Free clothes. A free college education if you don’t die. THAT’s an argument against buying a gun.

But that’s not what I’m really compelled to write about today. I am actually much more interested in the sorts of people you meet when buying a gun to call your own (if you’re too old or too cowardly to enlist).


She had been kidnapped and raped by three men she knew. There was pot involved, as there often is. Alcohol, a sunny day, a trip to the beach, a piece of ass. She was fourteen years old. Each of them took a couple of turns. They didn’t hurt the dog.

I went insane. I wanted to kill those three cholo motherfuckers two times each. The people I met while buying my “piece” (an interesting homonym) are ultimately the reason I’m not doing time right now.

When you buy a handgun in California, you have to think ahead, cause there’s a waiting period. Or there used to be. Maybe with computers now they can check your raggedy ass out easier. In those days, though, it took fifteen days. So I stewed for a long time. Waiting for my piece.

I hung out in a very trendy gun shop in Santa Monica which was frequented by all the best people. Santa Monica’s a well-to-do burg; a man needs protection. The trouble is, you’re just as likely to bump into the guy who plans on holding you up (who is also doing some gun shopping) than you are to be able to buy your “perfect” protection.

Creeps hang out in gun shops. Even in Santa Monica. Unkempt men with furtive eyes. It’s like a porno book store with a different smell. The guys behind the counter are a Special Sort of Nerd. They count themselves expert in the art of lethal force. These ill-educated overly-verbose salesmen are the guys you have to depend on if you’re buying a gun for the first time. They are distinguished from my brothers in arms in Vietnam by the pistols they wear on their belts (for self-defense in their gun shop, obviously), and by the little 2-meter Ham Radios that also dangle there next to--frequently--their handcuffs and their mace. You must be careful when dealing with gun sellers:

They Will Neglect to Tell You That
—should you kill a man—
You Are Committing a Crime Against Your Self.

I think that’s important to note.

I had chosen a Ruger Speed-Six .357 magnum revolver in stylish, durable stainless steel. My reasoning was impeccable: I’d had automatic weapons jam on me in Vietnam. I was looking for good old-fashioned dependability. I didn’t want my lethal rhythm to be broken with a lot of fiddling and faddling about. Nothing looks odder to a passerby than a guy pointing a pistol at three “bad guys” and there’s no noise and no blood and no falling down. I wanted a good, classic revenge-style murder. That much I knew.

My revolver sat placidly in its original packaging while I waited. I returned frequently to the gun shop, hoping perhaps to catch a glimpse of the culprits (I have to keep myself from using the word “perpetrators” here. Too much TV violence on cop shows, don’t you think?) On the edge of the box on the shelf was my name, in two inch letters, in indelible black ink on masking tape. Buying a gun is a pretty public thing, so you want to think about dressing your best.

The names on the boxes were alphabetical: Alvarez, Fernandez, Gonzales, Jimenez, Limon, Melendez, Narcisco, Ramirez, riverrun.

Hmmm. In an upscale neighborhood on the west side of Los Angeles? Where was Blum the producer? Goldstein, the writer? How come Feinberg, the venture capitalist down the street, wasn’t picking up a piece?

I was having a very bad feeling about my whole approach to killing cholos for revenge when a man walked in the door. He took six brisk steps towards the counter and hands flew to belts and holsters all over the store. The man stopped and declared:

“I want a gun to kill niggers!”

The fat gun nerd behind the counter relaxed and replied laconically:

"That’s what they’re for.”

Buy a gun. Kill a man. Tell me you feel good about it afterwards and I’ll call you a liar.

karfung says re buy a gun your wu just sounds like a long and tedious rant that does not go anywhere, the title is not about killing a man, it is just about purchasing a firearm. i am requesting for this to be nuked."

karfung says how does buy a gun automatically equate to kill a man? this just shows how you think about guns, not neccesarily of the other people.


On Vietnam:


  1. I was a prisoner in a Mexican Whorehouse
  2. A long time gone
  3. How to brush your teeth in a combat zone
  4. Libber and I go to war
  5. Fate takes a piss
  6. Thanks For the Memory
  7. Back in the Shit
  8. LZ Waterloo
  9. Saturday Night, Numbah Ten


a long commute
Andy X Kirby True
a tale of two Woodstocks
Buy a Gun
Dawn at The Wall
Feat of Clay
Funeral Detail
I was a free man once, in Saigon
The Joint Chiefs of Staff
the shit we ate

Breaking Starch
Combat Infantryman Badge
David Dellinger
Dickey Chapelle
Firebase Mary Ann
Garry Owen
Gloria Emerson
Graves Registration
I Corps
Project 100,000
the 1st Cav
The Highest Traditions
Those Who Forget
Under the Southern Cross
Whither the Phoenix?

A Bright Shining Lie
Apocalypse Now Redux
Hearts and Minds
We Were Soldiers

Log in or register to write something here or to contact authors.