gls
07-02-2009, 11:06 PM
http://morningsentinel.mainetoday.com/view/columns/6544382.html
When the conversation at the ladies' luncheon suddenly swung from cats and grandchildren to the ammo shortage, I finally verified I was not imagining things.
We're living in strange times. Perilous times. Definitely uncertain times.
The Internet is full of kooks and near-kooks preparing for "the end of the world as we know it," or TEOTWAWKI. Some have a precise date set for the apocalypse. Hmm. I think I'm going to keep on working on keeping my soul clean and taking my chances on that one.
Others predict the economic collapse of the United States. This is TEOTWAWKI in a more figurative sense. It is a vision of hungry residents of exurban McMansions walking 15 miles to town (because gas is no more) to pick from what's left on the shelves of Hannaford or Shaw's, but probably not both because there won't be enough processed food to support multiple grocery chains.
We'll all be sporting those bumper stickers that proclaim "My Other Supermarket is My Garden" on our bicycles.
Perhaps we'll also be toting Lady Smith revolvers in the wicker baskets attached to the handlebars.
Which brings us back to the ammo shortage. In ordinary times, I would not be paying any attention to stocks of ammunition, nor to anybody who was concerned about where they were going to get their next bullet. I'm generally in favor of gun control, at least to the extent that I don't think the average citizen (or garden-variety thug) needs access to semi-automatic weapons.
I usually think about guns only once in a while. A decade ago, on a trip to the Adirondacks, I visited the Olympic biathalon site at Lake Placid. I took advantage of shooting a rifle at a target and found I not only enjoyed the experience but was good at it.
Actress Laura Linney, portraying Abigail Adams in the miniseries "John Adams," picks up a musket and heads out the door when she hears a strange sound. She's alone with her children in Braintree, and there's a war going on. She's not taking any chances. "I could do that," I thought suddenly as I watched. "If I had to."
The thought was theoretical at the time. Now that I am aware of the ammo shortage, I am wondering what I could shoot. Would shoot. A redcoat, definitely. A squirrel, but only if I was down to 65 pounds and the lifetime supply of brown rice I'm building up and that will hopefully be in place before TEOTWAWKI arrives is completely depleted. I'm confident I could wave the thing around with a great deal of eye-popping menace and hopefully scare off whoever's looking to steal my rice, my strawberries or my virtue.
This all presumes I have a piece.
Or is that just Philip Marlowe-speak, when we're actually talking "Mad Max" here?
Now, I do take the ammo shortage talk with a grain of salt, as I do all discussion of TEOTWAWKI. Given the freak-out scenes at Christmas when stores don't stock enough Wiis, we are not a people known for having any sort of acquistion patience. An "ammo shortage" might mean the Wichita Wal-Mart was down to five boxes of .22s on May 6, for all I know.
But I sit up straighter when chatter on the Internet reaches critical mass and especially when it overflows into the sacred milieu of the ladies' luncheon. At this point, unarmed as I am, I don't really care about ammo shortages per se. I'm concerned that others do -- and enough to talk about it.
I've had the distinct feeling lately that we are poised precariously between two realities.
Our lives go on much as they have before. Our cars still run, our washing machines chug away, our children still manage to find summer jobs at McDonald's. Every so often the federal financial gurus tell us things are getting better. The Dow goes up for a day before it goes down again. Our jobs are safe. For now.
But then we hear the state government of California is writing IOUs. Tent cities are springing up in Florida. Major auto companies, once a mainstay of our economy, would go under if not for government help.
We seem to accept it all without a blink of an eye. So far we have left revolution to the Iranians. But we are talking about TEOTWAWKI among ourselves. Ordinarily peace-loving citizens are arming themselves. The murmur is growing louder.
I am listening.
Liz Soares is a freelance writer and the author of “All for Maine: The Story of Gov. Percival P. Baxter.” She welcomes e-mail at lsoares@gwi.net.
When the conversation at the ladies' luncheon suddenly swung from cats and grandchildren to the ammo shortage, I finally verified I was not imagining things.
We're living in strange times. Perilous times. Definitely uncertain times.
The Internet is full of kooks and near-kooks preparing for "the end of the world as we know it," or TEOTWAWKI. Some have a precise date set for the apocalypse. Hmm. I think I'm going to keep on working on keeping my soul clean and taking my chances on that one.
Others predict the economic collapse of the United States. This is TEOTWAWKI in a more figurative sense. It is a vision of hungry residents of exurban McMansions walking 15 miles to town (because gas is no more) to pick from what's left on the shelves of Hannaford or Shaw's, but probably not both because there won't be enough processed food to support multiple grocery chains.
We'll all be sporting those bumper stickers that proclaim "My Other Supermarket is My Garden" on our bicycles.
Perhaps we'll also be toting Lady Smith revolvers in the wicker baskets attached to the handlebars.
Which brings us back to the ammo shortage. In ordinary times, I would not be paying any attention to stocks of ammunition, nor to anybody who was concerned about where they were going to get their next bullet. I'm generally in favor of gun control, at least to the extent that I don't think the average citizen (or garden-variety thug) needs access to semi-automatic weapons.
I usually think about guns only once in a while. A decade ago, on a trip to the Adirondacks, I visited the Olympic biathalon site at Lake Placid. I took advantage of shooting a rifle at a target and found I not only enjoyed the experience but was good at it.
Actress Laura Linney, portraying Abigail Adams in the miniseries "John Adams," picks up a musket and heads out the door when she hears a strange sound. She's alone with her children in Braintree, and there's a war going on. She's not taking any chances. "I could do that," I thought suddenly as I watched. "If I had to."
The thought was theoretical at the time. Now that I am aware of the ammo shortage, I am wondering what I could shoot. Would shoot. A redcoat, definitely. A squirrel, but only if I was down to 65 pounds and the lifetime supply of brown rice I'm building up and that will hopefully be in place before TEOTWAWKI arrives is completely depleted. I'm confident I could wave the thing around with a great deal of eye-popping menace and hopefully scare off whoever's looking to steal my rice, my strawberries or my virtue.
This all presumes I have a piece.
Or is that just Philip Marlowe-speak, when we're actually talking "Mad Max" here?
Now, I do take the ammo shortage talk with a grain of salt, as I do all discussion of TEOTWAWKI. Given the freak-out scenes at Christmas when stores don't stock enough Wiis, we are not a people known for having any sort of acquistion patience. An "ammo shortage" might mean the Wichita Wal-Mart was down to five boxes of .22s on May 6, for all I know.
But I sit up straighter when chatter on the Internet reaches critical mass and especially when it overflows into the sacred milieu of the ladies' luncheon. At this point, unarmed as I am, I don't really care about ammo shortages per se. I'm concerned that others do -- and enough to talk about it.
I've had the distinct feeling lately that we are poised precariously between two realities.
Our lives go on much as they have before. Our cars still run, our washing machines chug away, our children still manage to find summer jobs at McDonald's. Every so often the federal financial gurus tell us things are getting better. The Dow goes up for a day before it goes down again. Our jobs are safe. For now.
But then we hear the state government of California is writing IOUs. Tent cities are springing up in Florida. Major auto companies, once a mainstay of our economy, would go under if not for government help.
We seem to accept it all without a blink of an eye. So far we have left revolution to the Iranians. But we are talking about TEOTWAWKI among ourselves. Ordinarily peace-loving citizens are arming themselves. The murmur is growing louder.
I am listening.
Liz Soares is a freelance writer and the author of “All for Maine: The Story of Gov. Percival P. Baxter.” She welcomes e-mail at lsoares@gwi.net.