Monday, 11 November 2013

Life’s Irony

Sometimes the irony of life catches even me off guard.  I had a seriously thick moment not so long ago (‘thick’ in this context defined as ‘not so clever’, ‘a little less than bright’ or ‘a few bricks short of a load’).  I live in a much more violent society than I grew up in and I do not want a gun in my house because I think accidents can happen really easily and fast and there is no turning back time after that. So in an effort to be proactive, I decided to go and learn self-defence.
‘Good idea’ you’re thinking.  And so thus far, I have learned ground work and basic self-defence and have now graduated a level on to ‘weapons’ and spent a day recently learning how to “hold and cock” a gun properly. 

The ‘change addict’ with a gun.  God help us all.

Seriously; how does a decision made in an effort to avoid using a gun land up with me learning exactly what it is that I was avoiding to start with?

Truth be told, I am not sure what I was thinking; should have taken knitting class.  Stabbing someone with a knitting needle seems a little less permanent and more prone to intentional accidental damage with higher prospects of survival on the part of the other party.          

But I, somehow; did not see this one coming, which incidentally doesn’t happen to me very often.  Perhaps I should have, but still didn’t.   It has my mind seriously reeling. 

You see, in self-defence you learn how to disarm an armed (wo)man; which results in you becoming armed; the state of being you took self-defence to begin with, in order to avoid.   

And the problem is this, when you have disarmed someone else of their gun; what do you do with it now...?  

Good question.   

If you throw it into the bushes, they might retrieve it and the chances of you getting it back are slim...  They will shoot from a distance next time. 

Disarming it requires know-how and causes distraction...  You may not have the time. 

So left with little choice, you cock it and aim and better at least look like you know what you are doing. 

The question is:  Can I live with the consequences?  And that is the question I seem to be battling with. 

So the moral of the story is simple.  Don’t leave home without your knitting needles.          


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