On the Altar of the Black Rifle: The NRA’s Failure

I am a gun rights absolutist. I mean that. There is nothing I qualify the position with. Obtain a weapon with which to wage war. That is your mandate. It is an unconditional mandate. This mandate became such in my mind via simple means. There is a very basic hypothetical one must indulge to determine the degree to which, if at all, he believes something. I like to call this the Apocalypse Diametric. It’s simple. One looks at the two sides of a given debate, and determines the fundamental insanity of each, and subsequently decides which is preferable. They both result in an apocalypse of a sort. In the case of the gun, it is no different. The most fundamental conclusion of the gun control side explains itself: guns are perfectly controlled. A single entity maintains exclusive access and use of all guns over all others. Extrapolate whatever conclusion you would like. The pro gun argument is everybody has access to a gun. Extrapolate whatever conclusion you would like. I will examine the logical insanity of each path as they appear to me.

A Visceral Dissection of Bret Easton Ellis’ First Non-Fiction Work: White

Apparently Bret Easton Ellis used to be a big deal. As part of the literary brat pack that emerged in the 1980s he had a bad boy aura. His books were young, edgy and depicted a darker America, something that to outsiders seemed both glamorous and destructive. He appealed to that eternal hunt for the fountain of youth. But Bret is a writer whose literary legacy is stuck in the 80s and 90s and his edginess has been subsumed by society and culture at large. He can’t write the same books any more when life is more entertaining than fiction. It is not surprising then that he has moved from fiction to talking quite literally about the exact same themes.