Weapons comprise a major chunk of Gritty’s catalog, so I get a lot of requests to make gun-related jewelry. I lose a lot of custom work by turning them down. There’s a solid reason why I don’t make them: I fucking hate guns.
Serial killers fascinate me, but I don’t respect their right to be serial killers. I don’t think we need more of them. Still, I prefer my horrors more personal. Gripping somebody by the shoulder and gazing through their pupils while you mince their guts with a 9” chef’s knife shows dedication. It’s heavy and dirty. Few people could ever do it, far fewer than people who have easy access to guns.
Guns killed 15,000 people in the United States last year. They killed over 12,000 so far this year. Maybe we need to think about how deregulating certain personal freedoms affects the whole of a society. My freedom to stay alive hits the list lower than some toxic nut’s freedom to acquire a machine designed specifically to kill me. That’s unlikely to change anytime soon. Caskets full of cash lease cathedrals full of thinking and praying politicians. Clearly, everybody’s hands are tied.
You can shoot a gun and feel pretty detached from your target. You kill from range. You don’t have to smell your victim’s sweat, or hear their breath crackle and deflate. That’s a feature. You blast out 30 rounds in seconds, slaughtering 20 children and their teachers before anybody can stop you. That’s a feature. The NRA receives donation spikes when it happens. Babies die, dozens of concert goers die, families die, and the organization that lobbies to ensure the killing continues profits. That’s a feature.
Murder is bad, kids. Don’t mistake a macabre interest for encouragement. But gun murder is pathetic.