I wrote a column about guns last Sunday, and came away feeling like I stepped on a land mine. (No offense intended to the pro-land mine people.)
The piece of satire that made a lot of people furious was titled “Questions about firearms? Ask Professor Gunn.”
I concocted an imaginary, inflammatory Professor Gunn (a “noted firearms advice columnist”) to respond to imaginary questions about the role of firearms in our society. It was some dark, in-your-face satire — borne out of frustration.
Frustration that, as seen recently in Florida, it is apparently legal for an armed man to track an unarmed man (or teenager) and then, when the confrontation he initiated turns against him, to kill the man (or teenager) he was pursuing without any courtroom consequences.
Frustration that, after Newtown, an overwhelming percentage of Americans favored expanded background checks for handgun purchases, but — shock — Congress sided with the multibillion-dollar gun industry over the people.
And frustration that debate on the issue is pretty much dead in the water.
The column triggered plenty of heat, and hate, along with some intelligent, thoughtful responses.
The criticism I found most reasonable and honest was that — by attempting to deploy humor in the context of such a deadly serious issue — I was guilty of being insensitive and unnecessarily divisive.
Others suggested I had done a disservice to the vast majority of conscientious, law-abiding firearms owners by implying, as one writer put it, that all gun advocates are “bloodthirsty hate mongers.”
That’s absolutely the opposite of what I believe. But I think the attacks would have come even if I’d found a way to convey that I do support our Second Amendment right to own firearms for hunting and sporting purposes, and of course for self-defense.
About half of those who lashed out at Professor Gunn essentially validated one of his points — that anyone with the audacity to say anything negative about guns in public is asking for a verbal blasting with both barrels.
Here is a partial list of the names I was called: moron, liar, imbecile (except they spelled it “imbicle”), “secular progressive liberal jerk” and a “senseless (bleep)hole.”
But by far the worst was this. Racist.
To me, there can scarcely be a more repugnant charge. And I was deeply, personally offended by the handful of people who chose to tarnish my character, my soul, with that word.
And that is what I told them when responding to their messages. Though it is challenging to “take the high road” in the face of such a vile accusation, I politely assured them that even though we disagreed I valued their opinion.
But I was also quite direct, and sincere, in asking them to explain where that charge was coming from. Because I honestly cannot comprehend it. So far, the good people who called me racist have not been able to explain what the (bleep) they are talking about.
Sure, I was also accused of “smear, distortion, hate and lies.” My writing was called “appalling, amateurish, smarmy, puerile,” “vile, incendiary,” “ugly and demeaning,” “ignorant (and) juvenile,” “drab” and “silly,” “idiotic, boring and not worth reading.”
I can laugh at being called an “imbicle” (I remain convinced the writer meant imbecile) and I delight in my work being called “drivvle (pretty sure they meant “drivel”).
But this racist garbage — that goes way beyond nasty. (Come to think of it, I’m a bit surprised no one called me a Nazi.)
One gentleman from Portsmouth said: “The next time, if there is one, you are allowed to express your First Amendment rights (which you have because of guns) you should focus more on the facts than some silly beliefs.” He also mentioned, “I have more guns and ammunition than most 3rd world countries, and I am not alone.”
OK, so I am focused on trying to learn from this experience. But as someone who, for better or worse, sees humor everywhere I also can’t help but find it here.
Said one reader from Kittery: “I may have to buy a parakeet so I can line his cage with your articles.” Ouch! An oldie, but a goodie. Perhaps instead he should consider a parrot, as they are better at repeating one’s talking points.
As is customary when a columnist pens opinions that readers find objectionable, a few critics wrote that I should “find a new line of work.”
Unfortunately, they didn’t offer any suggestions on what my new job might be (you know, after I resign in disgrace or am forced into unemployment for expressing ideas they disagree with).
So I came up with a couple. Becoming a PR flack for the NRA would help me stay on top of all the latest rhetoric. Becoming a mime would fulfill the suggestion that I keep my opinions to myself.
Granted, it’s a pretty weak list. But I trust my critics will fire some clever zingers my way.
Wait, here’s another idea. I’ll stay here and continue to exercise my First Amendment rights, while celebrating the same freedom of speech among any Second Amendment defenders offended by my words.
— John Breneman