I was one of those gun-hating, chicken-hearted, thug-hugging, liberal wussies, but now I can hardly wait to put my precious hide under the protection of a bazooka-blasting, machine-gun-mowing, fire-breathing, true patriot and Christian who will put the next lane crowder-inner in his or her place (“We have right to use weapons to protect ourselves,” March 14, letter to the editor).
An AR in each hand and a armored Humvee in every garage is my motto, and I can hardly wait until I run into the next aisle-blocking gabfest at Costco. And don’t tell me that I don’t need an assault rifle with a 30-round magazine to hunt with either, because those dratted deer sometimes charge when their wounded.
Those commies who oppose our dear Donald had better don their body armor because the righteous among us are going to rule. We’ll show those lily-livered liberals who’s boss. Suddenly, I’ve come to love the smell of napalm in the morning.
Don Curtis
Stanwood
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