Now, I know what you’re thinkin’: You’re seeing yourself confronting a crook or turning one over to responding officers while wearin’ your faded blue flannel jammie-bottoms with the little sailboats on ’em, and a big black gunbelt draped with deadly gear — and you’re thinkin’ you’d look silly. You wouldn’t look silly to me, or to any cop with a room-temp IQ. To us, you’d just look prepared and serious. And who cares what you look like to that predator, especially if he’s lookin’ up at you through teary eyes, and you’re smiling?

Better a Silly-Lookin’ Winner than a Dignified Dead Dude.

Another acquaintance of mine sorta snorted derisively when I mentioned my Home Defense Rig. A short time later he experienced one of those “bumps in the night” and investigated, pistol and flashlight in hand. He ’fessed up afterward, and I tried not to laugh. At the top of his staircase, he needed a hand free to unlatch the puppy-gate. He unconsciously tucked his Beretta 92 into the comfy, worn-out elastic waistband of his sleepy-shorts. His shorts rocketed to his ankles; he lost his balance, and wound up head-bonked, dazed, barebutted an’ gunless at the bottom of the stairs. The puppy, who had knocked over a potted plant on a stand, came wagglin’ over to lick his face.

Now that’s silly. And I won’t even mention Pete’s name …

Connor OUT.