Uncle Fun and Sparky Land

(Note: The slogan on the flag that Sparky’s holding is the rallying cry of Funsville’s only homegrown political movement, the Fibbertarians. They’re a small but not terribly fanatical cadre dedicated to the principle that a government and its people should be allowed to tell each other the occasional harmless white lie. Our friend Dermot the Circus Worm lends his likeness and celebrity status to the movement, for a modest consideration. Sparky can tell you the rest of what’s on his mind better than anybody else could—no particular surprise there—so I yield the floor to him. –Uncle Fun)

Thanks, an’ a Happy Tony Gwynn’s Birthday ta all'a you fans'a precision opposite-field hittin’,

So, I see that th’ big thing on th’ World Wide Interweb this week is ‘bout how some law stoodint in Texas has made hisself a real live workin’ gun usin’ a 3-D printer an’ some plans lifted frum a govimmunt website. B’fore I go off all half-cocked (which I’m gonna do anyway), Uncle Fun wanted me ta tell ya that this sorta thing is very much in keepin’ wit’ th’ American Way an’ whatnot, ‘cuz th’ mass manufacture of interchangeable machine-tooled parts for firearms was one of the things that made the American Revolution possible. (Unk also spelled that last part fer me, so’s ya’d know whut I wuz talkin’ ‘bout.)  

Inishully, I thot the guy musta done this azza skool projeck — like mebbe he wuz majorin’ in Th’ Law West’a th’ Pecos, er some such — but it turns out he’s jus’ one’a those constatooshunnal litterullists who thinks that th’ right ta th’ persoot’a happiness is yoonilaterull. Now, there’s such a thing as standin’ up fer yer beleefs, an’ there’s whut Uncle Fun calls bein’ a rectal sphincter about th’ whole thing. Whatever that means, this creep definitely sounds like he’s oozin’ t’wards th’ proctology end’a th’ lower intestine. Anyone as knows me knows that I’ve gotta high threshold fer whut constitutes irresponsibull beehavyur, but buddy here has Chuck-Yeagered thru my “sounds like a bad idea” barrier at about Mach 150.

In th’ interest’a fairness (which I’ve never found all that interestin’, but that’s another story), I’ll give ya The Case in Favor fer Xeroxed shootin’ irons. It runs like this:

1. Ya need a gun in case someone wants ta take yer stuff.
2. Ya need a gun in case one other person in th’ entiyure world has one.

(Well, that wuz boring.) Now, The Case Against. As fer Point 1, I’ve found that th’ best approach ta th’ consept’a persunnal property is ta never own nothin’ that ya diddunt get frum someone else. That way, ya don’ miss it as much when someone takes it frum ya. Point 2 is just plain silly, an’ not just frum th’ obveeyus standpoint’a creatin’ th’ potenshul fer needless bloodshed. Havin’ a gun ain’t gonna perteck Joe Average against th’ folks as is always gonna have guns — i.e., yer skill’d marksmen an’ yer crazy gun nuts. Yer marksman is gonna draw a bead on Joe Average an’ drop him b’fore he knows whut hit him, an’ yer gun-crazy nutjob ain’t gonna care ‘bout proper perfeshunnal techneek b’fore he starts blazin’ away. If we all hafta have a gun ta fend off crazy gun nuts, then we all become crazy gun nuts.

B’sides, th’ whole “ya gotta have a gun” argumint presupposes that there ain’t no other effecktive d’fensive weapons in th’ world. (Uncle Fun sez I’m not allow’d ta tell th’ whole internet whut I kin manage wit’ a egg whisk, er a emery board.) Unless ya kin use Dr. Tongue’s 3-D Gun Printer ta whip ya up a extra pair’a eyes fer th’ back’a yer head, ya ain’t got no way’a knowin’ everywhere trubble may be comin’ frum at any given momunt. As if that wuzzent enuf (an’ fer crazy gun nuts, nothin’ ever is), a weapon is only as good as whoever’s usin’ it. Even wit’ a fancy homemade plastic gun, ya ain’t got no way’a dealin’ wit’ trubble if ya’ve got th’ gun-aimin’ skills’a Barney Fife.

All’a this crazy gun nut Seckund Amendmint stuff is bad enuf, but that ain’t th’ crux’a Texas Plastic Gun Boy’s argumint. He pulled his li’l Smith an’ Wesson impersunashun jus’ ta show all th’ other crazy gun nuts out there how easy it is ta do. (It ain’t quite that easy yet, forchunately, ‘cuz th’ printer ya need ta make a plastic gun that don’ fall apart when ya release th’ safety costs sumpin’ like eighty-seven kajillion dollars, discount price. Fer once, whut Uncle Fun calls th’ invisibbul hand’a th’ free market has got it right.)

This’d be neither fish ner fowl ta anyone, I guess, ‘cept Plastic Gun Boy is studyin’ ta be a lawyer. I figger he musta miss’d th’ class where they walk ya thru th’ differnce b’tween flappin yer gums ‘bout what someone might hypathetickally do — like, say, if they wuz under th’ control’a aliens frum Planet Stunned-in-th’-Head — an’ ackchewally haulin’ off an’ doin’ it in th’ real world, where it has consequences. As a service ta educashun in gen’ral, an’ Gun Boy’s educashun in particular, I’ll let ya in onna few other tidbits’a informashun ya kin git fer free an’ easy offa th’ Web:

1. Gun Boy’s Real Name. It’s Cody Wilson.
2. Where Gun Boy Goes Ta School. It’s The University of Texas at Austin.
3. What Faculty Gun Boy is Studyin’ In. As I said b’fore, he’s takin’ Law.
4. Tidbits 1 thru 3 make it easy enuf fer anyone wit’ a smidgen’a inishative ta find out Tidbit 4: Where Gun Boy Lives.
5. Google Earth’ll give ya a decent view’a Tidbit 4, makin’ it easier ta case th’ joint.
6. Finally, a all-importunt tidbit: Th’ video Gun Boy posted on YouTube has NO footage showin’ him (er anyone else) firing the Amazing Homemade Plastic Gun. Also, th' video that shows him testin' it duzzent show if he even came close ta hittin' th' broad side'a Texas wit' th' one bullet he got off clean. I kinda figger as big a braggart as he is would wanna show off if he wuz a crack shot, so it’s a fair guess he’s a lot less like Doc Holliday when he hasta pull th’ trigger than he is like th’ aforemenshunned Barney Fife. (Th' form he displays in th' firin' range video bears this out, by th' way.)

Wit’ all that in mind, I wanna make it clear that I’m not suggestin’ that anyone track down Exploding Plastic Inevitable Gun Boy an’ put his claims ta th’ test in any illegalish kinda way. All’s I’m sayin’ is that this informashun is even easier ta ackcess than th’ seeckrit plans ta a plastic gun, an’ has far more potenshul ta be misus’d in a real an’ non-comic-book-type way. Speakin’ as a cartoon character, I kin draw onna wealth’a expeeriyunts on th’ subjeckt’a whut’s real an’ whut izzunt.

B’sides, it ain’t like there ain’t no plastic guns out there already. One’a my persunnal faverts is th’ Super Soaker. If ya gots nothin’ better ta do, ya cood always fill one’a these beauties up wit’ grape Kool-Aid (er anythin’ else that leaves a harmless but embarrassin’ stain), look up Plastic Gun Boy, draw a bead on him, an’ let him have it wit’ both barrels. Tell him Civilization sez “hi”, an’ wood appreshiate it if he stopp’d by more often. As Mister Kuzzents, Senior, who wuz in a World War where they play’d wit’ guns fer keeps an’ not simply ta win d’bate points wit’ th’ Ron Paul crowd, usedta say, “never let anyone know you have a gun unless you’ve got at least one bullet for everyone who finds out.”

 Sparky