GUNS DON'T KILL PEOPLE,.. LIFE DOES.

Why do news programs find it necessary to present us with a “Deadly Killer” each week? Most recently, the target has been those new Razor scooters. I’ve got a news flash: kids will be kids, so quit spewing panic-inducing sound bytes. Part of being a kid is experiencing life: scabs, broken bones, peeing in the public pool. Just report the news: weather, sports, who killed who, and that’s it. We don’t need some bobbing head telling us what’s going to do us in. We know smoking will kill us. We know eating some foods will rot our innards, shrivel our testicles, and make our asses explode. We don’t give a shit. In those last moments of life, we’ll look back and not feel incomplete about taking the dirt nap. Why? Because we did whatever the fuck we wanted. At some point in our life we may have smoked two packs a day and ate every goddamned bloody chunk of charred animal flesh we could get our murderous opposable thumbs around. We drank to oblivion and ingested illegal substances while listening to Black Sabbath, Eminem, Johnny Cash, and NWA at ear-shattering volumes. We rode bikes and skateboards, and drove well past the posted speed. We read comic books, MAD, Catcher in the Rye, Stephen King, Playboy, and Clive Barker. We sat too close to the TV watching slasher flicks, bad cop shows, Evil Dead, Terminator, Bugs Bunny, The Simpsons, Melrose, MTV, and porn. We played ultra-violent video games, saving the world with the likes of Duke, Snake, Mr. Do and Gabe. We had sex with lovers, fuck-buddies, strangers, and even that weird chick from down the street. And after all that dangerous behavior, we’re still decent human beings. We experienced all the “bad” stuff, made our own decisions, and processed it through the moral filters our parents instilled in us. Telling us Razor scooters can kill our kids is asinine. What can’t kill us? My point is parental responsibility. It is not the media’s or government’s or school teacher’s responsibility to teach children right from wrong. If you are a parent and rely on those sources to raise your child, you might as well send them out in heavy traffic on a scooter, armed with a 9mm, some non-filtered Pall Malls, a 40-oz. of Olde English, and a t-shirt stating “I hate all races, religions, and sexual orientations”. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must get back to my chicken-fried steak, mashed potatoes, gravy, buttery corn, pint of Guinness, and pack of Camels. And I’m going to watch Fight Club really fucking loud.