A United States Marine was attending some college courses between assignments. He had completed missions in Iraq and Afghanistan . One of the courses had a professor who was a vowed atheist and a member of the ACLU.

One day the professor shocked the class when he came in. He looked to the ceiling and flatly stated, “God, if you are real, then I want you to knock me off this platform. I’ll give you exactly 15 minutes.” The lecture room fell silent. You could hear a pin drop.

Ten minutes went by and the professor proclaimed, “Here I am God. I’m still waiting.” It got down to the last couple of minutes when the Marine got out of his chair, went up to the professor, and cold-cocked him; knocking him off the platform.

The professor was out cold. The Marine went back to his seat and sat there, silently. The other students were shocked and stunned and sat there looking on in silence. The professor eventually came to, noticeably shaken, looked at the Marine and asked, “What the hell is the matter with you? Why did you do that?”

The Marine calmly replied, “God was too busy today protecting America ’s soldiers who are protecting your right to say stupid stuff and act like an a$$. So, He sent me.”

Edited by dipshit420 (Feb. 27, 2013 20:35:31)

Donuts for the Class

There was a certain Professor of Religion named Dr. Christianson, a studious man who taught at a small college in the Western United States. Dr. Christianson taught the required survey course in Christianity at this particular institution. Every student was required to take this course his or her freshman year regardless of his or her major. Although Dr. Christianson tried hard to communicate the essence of the gospel in his class, he found that most of his students looked upon the course as nothing but required drudgery. Despite his best efforts, most students refused to take Christianity seriously.

This year, Dr. Christianson had a special student named Steve. Steve was only a freshman, but was studying with the intent of going onto seminary for the ministry. Steve was popular, he was well liked, and he was an imposing physical specimen. He was now the starting center on the school football team, and was the best student in the professor's class.

One day, Dr. Christianson asked Steve to stay after class so he could talk with him.
"How many push-ups can you do "
Steve said, "I do about 200 every night."
"200 That's pretty good, Steve," Dr. Christianson said. "Do you think you could do 300 "

Steve replied, "I don't know... I've never done 300 at a time."
"Do you think you could " again asked Dr. Christianson.
"Well, I can try," said Steve.
"Can you do 300 in sets of 10 I have a class project in mind and I need you to do about 300 push-ups in sets of ten for this to work. Can you do it I need you to tell me you can do it," said the professor.

Steve said, "Well... I think I can...yeah, I can do it."
Dr. Christianson said, "Good! I need you to do this on Friday. Let me explain what I have in mind."

Friday came and Steve got to class early and sat in the front of the room. When class started, the professor pulled out a big box of donuts. No these weren't the normal kinds of donuts, they were the extra fancy BIG kind, with cream centers and frosting swirls. Everyone was pretty excited it was Friday, the last class of the day, and they were going to get an early start on the weekend with a party in Dr. Christianson' s class.

Dr. Christianson went to the first girl in the first row and asked, "Cynthia, do you want to have one of these donuts "

Cynthia said, "Yes."

Dr. Christianson then turned to Steve and asked, "Steve, would you do ten push-ups so that Cynthia can have a donut "

"Sure." Steve jumped down from his desk to do a quick ten. Then Steve again sat in his desk. Dr. Christianson put a donut on Cynthia's desk.

Dr. Christianson then went to Joe, the next person, and asked, "Joe, do you want a donut "
Joe said, "Yes."
Dr. Christianson asked, "Steve would you do ten push-ups so Joe can have a donut " Steve did ten push-ups, Joe got a donut. And so it went, down the first aisle, Steve did ten pushups for every person before they got their donut. And down the second aisle, till Dr. Christianson came to Scott.

Scott was on the basketball team, and in as good condition as Steve. He was very popular and never lacking for female companionship. When the professor asked, "Scott do you want a donut " Scott's reply was, "Well, can I do my own pushups "
Dr. Christianson said, "No, Steve has to do them."
Then Scott said, "Well, I don't want one then."

Dr. Christianson shrugged and then turned to Steve and asked,
"Steve, would you do ten pushups so Scott can have a donut he doesn't want "
With perfect obedience Steve started to do ten pushups.

Scott said, "HEY! I said I didn't want one!"
Dr. Christianson said, "Look, this is my classroom, my class, my desks, and these are my donuts. Just leave it on the desk if you don't want it." And he put a donut on Scott's desk.

Now by this time, Steve had begun to slow down a little. He just stayed on the floor between sets because it took too much effort to be getting up and down. You could start to see a little perspiration coming out around his brow. Dr. Christianson started down the third row. Now the students were beginning to get a little angry.

Dr. Christianson asked Jenny, "Jenny, do you want a donut "
Sternly, Jenny said, "No."
Then Dr. Christianson asked Steve, "Steve, would you do ten more Push-ups so Jenny can have a donut that she doesn't want " Steve did ten....Jenny got a donut.

By now, a growing sense of uneasiness filled the room. The students were beginning to say "No" and there were all these uneaten donuts on the desks.

Steve also had to really put forth a lot of extra effort to get these pushups done for each donut. There began to be a small pool of sweat on the floor beneath his face, his arms and brow were beginning to get red because of the physical effort involved.

Dr. Christianson asked Robert, who was the most vocal unbeliever in the class, to watch Steve do each push up to make sure he did the full ten pushups in a set because he couldn't bear to watch all of Steve's work for all of those uneaten donuts. He sent Robert over to where Steve was so Robert could count the set and watch Steve closely. Dr. Christianson started down the fourth row.

During his class, however, some students from other classes had wandered in and sat down on the steps along the radiators that ran down the sides of the room. When the professor realized this, he did a quick count and saw that now there were 34 students in the room. He started to worry if Steve would be able to make it. Dr. Christianson went on to the next person and the next and the next. Near the end of that row, Steve was really having a rough time. He was taking a lot more time to complete each set.

Steve asked Dr. Christianson, "Do I have to make my nose touch on each one "

Dr. Christianson thought for a moment, "Well, they're your pushups. You are in charge now. You can do them any way that you want." And Dr. Christianson went on.

A few moments later, Jason, a recent transfer student, came to the room and was about to come in when all the students yelled in one voice, "NO! Don't come in! Stay out!" Jason didn't know what was going on.

Steve picked up his head and said, "No, let him come."

Professor Christianson said, "You realize that if Jason comes in you will have to do ten pushups for him "

Steve said, "Yes, let him come in. Give him a donut"
Dr. Christianson said, "Okay, Steve, I'll let you get Jason's out of the way right now. Jason, do you want a donut "

Jason, new to the room hardly knew what was going on. "Yes," he said, "give me a donut."

"Steve, will you do ten push-ups so that Jason can have a donut "
Steve did ten pushups very slowly and with great effort. Jason, bewildered, was handed a donut and sat down.

Dr. Christianson finished the fourth row, then started on those visitors seated by the heaters. Steve's arms were now shaking with each push-up in a struggle to lift himself against the force of gravity. Sweat was profusely dropping off of his face and, by this time, there was no sound except his heavy breathing, there was not a dry eye in the room.

The very last two students in the room were two young women, both cheerleaders, and very popular. Dr. Christianson went to Linda, the second to last, and asked, "Linda, do you want a doughnut "

Linda said, very sadly, "No, thank you."

Professor Christianson quietly asked, "Steve, would you do ten push-ups so that Linda can have a donut she doesn't want " Grunting from the effort, Steve did ten very slow pushups for Linda.

Then Dr. Christianson turned to the last girl, Susan. "Susan, do you want a donut "

Susan, with tears flowing down her face, began to cry. "Dr. Christianson, why can't I help him "

Dr. Christianson, with tears of his own, said, "No, Steve has to do it alone, I have given him this task and he is in charge of seeing that everyone has an opportunity for a donut whether they want it or not. When I decided to have a party this last day of class, I looked at my grade book. Steve, here is the only student with a perfect grade. Everyone else has failed a test, skipped class, or offered me inferior work. Steve told me that in football practice, when a player messes up he must do push-ups. I told Steve that none of you could come to my party unless he paid the price by doing your push ups. He and I made a deal for your sakes. Steve, would you do ten push-ups so Susan can have a donut " As Steve very slowly finished his last pushup, with the understanding that he had accomplished all that was required of him, having done 350 pushups, his arms buckled beneath him and he fell to the floor.

Dr. Christianson turned to the room and said. "And so it was, that our Savior, Jesus Christ, on the cross, plead to the Father, 'into thy hands I commend my spirit.' With the understanding that He had done everything that was required of Him, he yielded up His life. And like some of those in this room, many of us leave the gift on the desk, uneaten." Two students helped Steve up off the floor and to a seat, physically exhausted, but wearing a thin smile. "Well done, good and faithful servant," said the professor, adding "Not all sermons are preached in words."

Turning to his class the professor said, "My wish is that you might understand and fully comprehend all the riches of grace and mercy that have been given to you through the sacrifice of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. He spared not only His Begotten Son, but gave Him up for us all for the whole Church, now and forever. Whether or not we choose to accept His gift to us, the price has been paid. Wouldn't you be foolish and ungrateful to leave it laying on the desk "

Vanity

A middle aged woman had a heart attack and was taken to the hospital. While on the operating table she had a near death experience.
Seeing God she asked "Is my time up?"
God said, "No, you have another 40 years, 2 months and 8 days to live."
Upon recovery, the woman decided to stay in the hospital and have a facelift, liposuction, and a tummy tuck.
She even had someone come in and change her hair color.
Since she had so much more time to live, she figured she might as well make the most of it.
After her last operation, she was released from the hospital.
While crossing the street on her way home, she was killed by an ambulance.
Arriving in front of God, she demanded, "I thought you said I had another 40 years? Why didn't you pull me from out of the path of the ambulance?"

God looked at her and smirked. "I didn't recognize you."

Letter from one "Angry Woman"

I don't know who wrote it but they should have signed it. Some powerful words This woman should run for president.

Written by a housewife from New Jersey and sounds like it! This is one ticked off lady.

"Are we fighting a war on terror or aren't we? Was it or was it not started by Islamic people who brought it to our shores on September 11, 2001?

Were people from all over the world, mostly Americans, not brutally murdered that day, in downtown Manhattan , across the Potomac from our nation's capit ol and in a field in Pennsylvania ?

Did nearly three thousand men, women and children die a horrible, burning or crushing death that day, or didn't they?

And I'm supposed to care that a copy of the Koran was "desecrated" when an overworked American soldier kicked it or got it wet?...Well, I don't. I don't care at all.

I'll start cari ng when Osama bin Laden turns himself in and repents for incinerating all those innocent people on 9/11.

I'll care about the Koran when the fanatics in the Middle East start caring about the Holy Bible, the mere possession of which is a crime in Saudi Arabia .

I'll care when these thugs tell the world they are sorry for hacking off Nick Berg's head while Berg screamed through his gurgling slashed throat.

I'll care when the cowardly so-called "insurgents" in Iraq come out and fight like men instead of disrespecting their own religion by hiding in mosques.

I'll care when the mindless zealots who blow themselves up in search of nirvana care about the innocent children within range of their suicide bombs.

I'll care when the American media stops pretending that their First Amendment liberties are somehow derived from international law instead of the United States Constitution's Bill of Rights.

In the meantime, when I hear a story about a brave marine roughing up an Iraqi terrorist to obtain information, know this: I don't care.

W hen I see a fuzzy photo of a pile of naked Iraqi prisoners who have been humiliated in what amounts to a college-hazing incident, rest assured: I don't care.

When I see a wounded terrorist get shot in the head when he is told not to move because he might be booby-trapped, you can take it to t he bank: I don't care.

When I hear that a prisoner, who was issued a Koran and a prayer mat, and fed "special" food that is paid for by my tax dollars, is complaining that his holy book is being "mishandled," you can absolutely believe in your heart of hearts: I don't care.

And oh, by the way, I've noticed that sometimes it's spelled "Koran" and other times "Quran." Well, Jimmy Crack Corn and-you guessed it-I don't care !!

If you agree with this viewpoint, pass this on to all your E-mail friends. Sooner or later, it'll get to the people responsible for this ridiculous beh avior!

If you don't agree, then by all means hit the delete button. Should you choose the latter, then please don't complain when more atrocities committed by radical Muslims happen here in our great Country! And may I add:

"Some people spend an entire lifetime wondering if they made a difference in the world. But, the Marines don't have that problem" -- Ronald Reagan

I have another quote that I would like to add AND.......I hope you forward all this.

"If we ever forget that we're One Nation Under God, then we will be a nation gone under." Also by.. Ronald Reagan

One last thought for the day:

In case we find ourselves starting to believe all the Anti-American sentiment and negativity, we should remember England 's Prime Minister Tony Blair's words during a recent interview. When asked by one of his Parliament members why he believes so much in America , he said: "A simple way to take measure of a country is to look at how many want in.. And how many want out."

Only two defining forces have ever offered to die for yo u:
1. Jesus Christ
2. The American G. I.

One died for your soul, the other for your freedom.

YOU MIGHT WANT TO PASS THIS ON, AS MANY SEEM TO FORGET BOTH OF THEM. AMEN!

Edited by dipshit420 (Feb. 27, 2013 20:12:52)

Bet you would have never guessed this one! No matter your politics. The media will never tell of this, so pass it on.
There was an article in the Wall Street Journal on Cindy McCain, John's wife. All I ever saw was this attractive woman standing beside John. I was surprised how talented and involved with world problems she is. This is a summary of the article.
She graduated from Southern Cal and was a special-needs teacher.
After her Dad died she became involved with his beer distributing firm and is now the chairwoman. Sales have doubled since she has taken over from her father.
They have a marriage prenuptial agreement, her assets remain separate.
She is involved around the world clearing land mines - travels to these countries on a detonation team and service on their board.
They have a 19 year old serving in Iraq, another son in the Naval Academy, a daughter recently graduated from Columbia Univ., an adopted daughter in high school, and a son who is the finance guy at the beer firm.
Raised kids in Phoenix, Az rather than Washington DC.(better atmosphere) He commuted.
In 1991, Mrs. McCain came across a girl in an orphanage in Bangladesh. Mother Teresa implored Mrs. McCain to take the baby with severe cleft palate. She did so without first telling her husband. The couple adopted the girl who has had a dozen operations to repair her cleft palate and other medical problems.
They have a Family Foundation for children's causes.
She's active with 'Halo Trust' - to clear land mines, provide water and food in war ravaged and developing countries.
She will join an overseas mission of 'Operation Smile', a charity for corrective surgery on children's faces.
She has had two back surgeries and became addicted to pain killers. She talks openly about it which she says is part of the recovery process.
I'm surprised the media is so quiet about her attributes. She sounds more capable than Hillary or Obama. We would really get two for the price of one. A person with business and international experience. John did work for the firm for awhile when he left the Navy. She, however, has the real business experience. Very interesting.

Edited by dipshit420 (Feb. 27, 2013 20:13:16)

In Florida, an atheist became incensed over the preparation for Easter and Passover holidays and decided to contact the local ACLU about the discrimination inflicted on atheists by the constant celebrations afforded to Christians and Jews with all their holidays while the atheists had no holiday to celebrate.

The ACLU jumped on the opportunity to once again pick up the cause of the godless and assigned their sharpest attorneys to the case. The case was brought before a wise judge who after listening to the long, passionate presentation of the ACLU lawyers, promptly banged his gavel and declared, "Case dismissed!"

The lead ACLU lawyer immediately stood and objected to the ruling and said, "Your honor, how can you possibly dismiss this case? Surely the Christians have Christmas, Easter and many other observances. And the Jews - why in addition to Passover they have Yom Kippur and Hanukkah . . . and yet my client and all other atheists have no such holiday!"

The judge leaned forward in his chair and simply said "Obviously your client is too confused to know about, or for that matter, even celebrate the atheists' holiday!"

The ACLU lawyer pompously said: "We are aware of no such holiday for atheists. Just when might that be, Your Honor?"

The judge said, "Well, it comes every year on exactly the same date - April 1st!"

The fool says in his heart, "There is no God."
Psalm 14:1, Psalm 53:1

HOORAY FOR THIS JUDGE

Edited by dipshit420 (Feb. 27, 2013 20:29:04)

A young lady came home from a date, rather sad. She told her
mother, "Jeff proposed to me an hour ago."

"Then why are you so sad?" her mother asked.

"Because he also told me he was an atheist. Mom, he doesn't
even believe there's a hell."

Her mother said, "Marry him anyway. Between the
two of us, we'll show him how wrong he is. Ooh looong johnson. ohh don piano."

There was this Christian lady that had to do a lot of traveling for her business, so she did a lot of flying. Flying made her nervous, so she always took her Bible along with her to read and it helped relax her.

One time, she was sitting next to a man. When he saw her pull out her Bible, he gave a little chuckle and went back to what he was doing.

After awhile, he turned to her and asked, "You don't really believe all that stuff in there do you?"

The lady replied, "Of course I do. It is the Bible."

He said, "Well, what about that guy that was swallowed by that whale?"

She replied, "Oh, Jonah. Yes, I believe that, it is in the Bible."

He asked, "Well, how do you suppose he survived all that time inside the whale?"

The lady said, "Well, I don't really know. I guess when I get to heaven, I will ask him."

"What if he isn't in heaven?" the man asked sarcastically.

"Then you can ask him." replied the lady.

Edited by dipshit420 (Feb. 27, 2013 20:11:15)

littlegreenpills posted:

wait wait wait why are they letting muslims into heaven

mongosteen posted:

find the one where the dude beats the shit out of the pacifist

Not sure but I found this gem:

Up From Pacifism

by Clayton Cramer

It was July, 1984. My wife, daughter, and I, had just moved from a peaceful, largely rural county north of San Francisco, to Orange County, near Los Angeles. Within hours of arriving, I found myself holding a handgun under my jacket; a short distance away, a drunk with a very large knife was threatening to kill someone, and I was trying to decide whether or not to draw the gun, and shoot the drunk. It was one of the two most frightening events of my adult life. How did I get into this situation?

In my late teens, I had decided that I was a pacifist. Clearly, the only people that had bad things happen to them were drug addicts, people that hung around with drug addicts, and those who had the misfortune to be related to drug addicts. Therefore, the risks of violent injury or death were nonexistent for me. Who would want to hurt me? To the extent that I had any opinion about gun control at all, it was straightforward and clear-cut -- what rational person could oppose gun control laws? The Second Amendment? That was about the National Guard -- how could someone think that there was an individual right to own a gun? Why would anyone but a criminal need one? Certainly, my parents had demonstrated that there was no need for a gun in our house -- even at the heights of the Watts Riots in 1965, it was not considered.

Mine was a convenient pacifism, however, like many others of my generation. When I saw a man with a baseball bat threatening a teenager one night in Santa Monica, California, I had no qualms about calling the police -- who were prepared to use state-sanctioned violence for a noble cause. As long as I wasn't directly involved with the use of violence, my hands were clean. The man with the baseball bat was in the right, as it turned out, and the police department had three cruisers on the scene three minutes and fifteen seconds after I called them -- impressive performance, by anyone's measure.

But as with most things, the passing years gave me increased experience that damaged my simplistic textbook ideology. A friend was robbed at gun point. Fortunately, he suffered no injuries. Handing over his wallet solved the threat, but still...

Things got worse. A couple I know had just come home, when three thugs broke down their screen door, tied up the husband, beat him up, raped the wife (while forcing the husband to watch), and stole everything they owned, right down to their wedding pictures. The assailants were never caught. Over the next few years, I watched this couple, trying desperately to hold their marriage together as each battled the demons of this traumatic event. Fortunately, the time came when they could put it behind them.

Another couple was awakened by three strangers who had forced entry into their home. While the husband compliantly went to another room to give them valuables, two of the thugs attempted to rape the wife. The husband fought back, and was stabbed seven times. He lost two pints of blood, and came very close to dying. He was self-employed, uninsured, and the medical bills put him $30,000 in debt.

I ran into a friend from high school, a couple of years after graduation. Her mouth was wired, and it severely impaired her speech -- but she was able to tell me what happened. Two men had robbed her, after beating her so hard that her jaw was broken. Shortly thereafter, my own apartment was burglarized, and I realized that even in a high security building, I wasn't safe. Along with these close friends, a dozen or more acquaintances and friends of friends were victims of rape and murder. Many of the rape victims were haunted by the fear of it happening again, and who could say that it wouldn't?

Then I met my wife Rhonda. Like me, her friends and acquaintances included many victims. Some fit into my comforting, "Stay away from drug addicts and criminals, and you'll be safe" paradigm. But most did not. Two roofers, high on heroin, broke into a house, intent on burglary. A high school acquaintance of Rhonda's walked in on the burglars -- and discovered that they had already raped and murdered his little sister. Then the burglars removed his head with a roofing hammer. Like me, my wife had many acquaintances and friends who had been raped.

The final event that broke my easy confidence in pacifism as a personal philosophy was seeing a map of crimes over the previous three months in our neighborhood. I discovered more than a dozen rapes had been reported within four blocks of our apartment in Santa Monica, a "nice" part of Los Angeles -- and that the three minute police response time to the man with the bat was an extraordinary stroke of luck. If I called them for my protection, would I be so lucky? A friend called the Los Angeles Police Department to report a domestic disturbance one Saturday night -- and he waited tens of minutes before anyone could ascertain how severe the crime was that he was reporting. If trouble came to the apartment my wife and I lived in, we might well be on our own. Brave words about "not lowering myself to the use of violence" evaporated when I thought about what had happened to my friends; there were things worse than death -- like being beaten to death with a hammer.

My wife wasn't similarly deluded; we trained and obtained licenses to carry tear gas. As it became obvious that tear gas was a weapon of only limited effectiveness, we realized the need for something a little more certain. Further, we also came to realize that the refusal to use force reflected an essentially selfish aspect to the "convenient pacifism" to which I had pledged myself: rapists, murderers, and the other savages that roamed the streets of Los Angeles, seldom confined themselves to single victims. Refusing to take direct action in self-defense would guarantee not only our own suffering, but that of the next victim. Self-defense against these monsters is not a selfish act; it is an act that benefits civilized society as a whole. I have reason to suspect that the three savages who raped the first couple I mentioned in this article, may have also been the same trio that attacked the second couple I have mentioned, two years later, within two miles of the first attack.

After many weeks of discussion, prayer, and studying the Scriptures, we made a dramatic decision. I went out and bought a gun. For a writing class, I had learned everything that I could about military small arms, so I was starting from a stronger knowledge base than the average city boy. Our first gun was a Colt Government Model, .45 ACP.

I took the responsibility of gun ownership very seriously. At the local library, I read through all the sections of the California Penal Code that regulated the carrying of guns, then the case law in which the courts had interpreted those statutes. I was surprised to find that it was illegal to carry concealed or openly without a permit, and even more surprised to find that, at least where I lived, it was effectively impossible to get a permit to carry concealed. Finally, the greatest surprise of all: California Military & Veterans Code sec.120 through sec.123 defined me as a member of the "unorganized militia." Wait a minute! The "militia" was the National Guard, and I couldn't recall signing up! Had I been misled about the Second Amendment?

While now I knew what the laws were, I hadn't thought through my willingness to use a gun in much depth. I can remember telling people at the time, "A gun is not a talisman; mere possession won't do you much good," and, "There's no point in owning a gun if you aren't going to practice with it." But in fact, my practice was all target shooting; real-world scenarios seldom crossed my mind.

We moved north, to semirural Sonoma County, north of San Francisco, where people left the car keys in the ignition; if you lost your wallet or purse, it would be returned to you, with all the money in it; where many people only locked their houses if they were going to be away overnight. (Yes, this was in the early 1980s, not the 1950s.)

Then, in 1984, we moved to Orange County, just south of Los Angeles. Our first night we stayed in a motel in Costa Mesa. My wife heard some yelling; I walked across the street to find out whether this was simply boisterous teenagers, or a real problem. Across the way was a two-story apartment building. A man in his 20s, obviously intoxicated, was dragging a woman of similar age down the stairs, while she screamed and struggled to free herself from his grasp. I ran back to the motel room, and my wife and I called the police, to report a kidnapping in progress.

And then we waited. And waited. After about five minutes, the struggle was still underway; she would work herself loose, run back up the stairs, and then he would grab her again, and pull her back down the stairs. His strength was clearly far superior to hers; his drunkenness made it roughly an even match -- but I could not discount the possibility that he would eventually succeed. I put the Colt inside my belt, put on my coat, and walked back across the street. (This was not a violation of California law; our Penal Code specifically allows carry of a loaded firearm where the police have been summoned, and have not yet arrived.)

For the first time while armed, I felt fear in my guts, like an icy hand, squeezing my stomach. The hair on my neck stood up; I felt a slight nausea, and an apprehension that circumstances might force me to make a very unpleasant decision: whether or not to shoot, and likely kill another human being. The advocates of restrictive gun control make the claim that sometimes, the finger doesn't pull the trigger, but the trigger pulls the finger -- that the emotions of the moment, in combination with a gun in the hand, encourages the use of deadly force. My experience that night in Costa Mesa was quite the opposite -- the awful realization of the power that rested between my Levi's and my hip, terrified me. I sought a way to avoid exercising that power -- and fortunately, I did not have to draw that gun.

At no point had the drunk crossed the line where I felt that I had to use deadly force. He had committed kidnapping when he dragged the woman out of her apartment, and tried to take her away. The drunk had committed assault with a deadly weapon when, armed with a hunting knife, he threatened a young man who had come to the woman's rescue. Either of these felonies, had he refused to stop, would have justified deadly force under California law -- and if the bloodthirsty, trigger-happy image that our opponents raise was an accurate description of the average gun owner, I should have shot the drunk.

Eventually, fortunately, the drunk began to sober up, realized that the police would eventually get there, and he left. Forty-five minutes after I called, Costa Mesa Police Department showed up. Helicopters were sent out, and later that evening, a police car brought a man in handcuffs to be identified by the victim.

I learned a number of valuable lessons from this experience. First, it is not enough to buy a gun, and have an intellectual knowledge of the laws on the use of deadly force. You must also think over carefully, before the fact, under what conditions you are prepared to use deadly force. For most people, those circumstances are likely to more restrictive than what the laws of your state allow. If a burglar breaks into your home at night, are you prepared to shoot him as soon as you positively identify him? After he has refused to leave? When you are unsure if he is armed or not? These are both questions of the laws of your state, and your own moral judgment. Are you prepared to risk getting badly hurt, perhaps permanently disabled, to avoid killing a burglar who may not be armed? The time to think these matters through isn't when adrenaline is pumping, and you are making split-second decisions.

Second, you must engage in realistic training exercises. As a result of this experience, I started to spend the extra money to fire at human silhouette targets -- I'm not at all worried about being attacked by a bullseye in my home. You must also imagine the fear that you will experience under the stress of an actual life and death crisis. My wife, for example, trains for the most worrisome and stressful situation she can imagine -- an intruder who attempts to take our children out of the home.

Third, we must be prepared to take responsibility for our decisions. If that drunk had followed through on his threat with the knife, I'm not sure that I was then ready to draw and shoot. While there would have been no legal consequences for failing to shoot, my sense of guilt would have been enormous. We must be responsible for our decisions -- good or bad, in both the legal sense, and the moral sense.

Clayton E. Cramer is a software engineer with a telecommunications manufacturer in Northern California. His first book, By The Dim And Flaring Lamps: The Civil War Diary of Samuel McIlvaine, was published in 1990.

LaserJew posted:

libelous_slander posted:

The atheist looked directly into the light "It would be hypocritical of me to suddenly ask You to treat me as Christian now...

It would be hypocritical of me to suddenly believe in god, after time and space were frozen before my eyes and a voice in the sky began conversing with me.

mescaline is a hell of a drug