WHEN in the course of human Events, it becomes necessary….
byVanderleunonMay 25, 2021
Of all the firearms in the world owned by private citizens for non-military purposes, half are in the United States of America. In number they exceed the country’s population: 393 million for 328 million people. This is no coincidence, nor a matter of market alone: it is rather a matter of tradition and Constitutional guarantee. It is the history of the Second Amendment, ratified in 1791 to reassure the inhabitants of the newly independent territories that their Federal Government could not, one day, abuse its authority over them. Two hundred and fifty years later, the Second Amendment is still entrenched in all aspects of American life and this book frames its current status through what are seen as four fundamental American values: Family, Freedom, Passion, Style. More at The Ameriguns – Gabriele Galimberti
Joel, Lynne, Paige and Joshua (44, 43, 5 and 11 years old) – Austin, Texas (They don’t want to show their last name – The firearm you see in the photo are just 80% of the whole collection) Both Joel and Lynne were born and raised in Austin, Texas. They met 14 years ago and they have been together since then. They define themselves “compulsive buyer and serial collectors”. Joel collects watches, motorbikes, RC cars and various other things. Lynne collects mostly jewels and guns. More than 90% of the guns present in their house belong to her. “I love guns and I love to shot them every day. I can’t stop buying them. I am not sure about the exact number but I probably have more the 170 firearms. I think from the moment I bought the first one I then kept buying around 5-6 guns every month and I think I’ll keep buying them with the same rhythm in the future.” She says laughing. “I also love to customize them and make every piece unique. This is also why I have never been able to sell any of my guns”. Lynne and Joel have two children, Joshua and Paige. “Joshua is 11 now. He started to shoot guns when he was 6. Now he has his own gun, which he built by himself. He’s really proud of that. He has made it by assembling pieces that he have chosen from an online catalog. Sometimes we also let Paige shot some guns, but she’s still too small to be able to handle one alone”, she says. Lynne and Joel run a business together, they are dealers for luxury watches and jewels. Contacts: Lynne – email@example.com +1 512 731 5635 Joel – firstname.lastname@example.org
“I’ve seen things you people wouldn’t believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. I watched c-beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate. All those moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain. Time to die.”
Lament for the Rohirrim
Where now the horse and the rider? Where is the horn that was blowing?
Where is the helm and the hauberk, and the bright hair flowing?
Where is the hand on the harpstring, and the red fire glowing?
Where is the spring and the harvest and the tall corn growing?
They have passed like rain on the mountain, like a wind in the meadow;
The days have gone down in the West behind the hills into shadow.
Who shall gather the smoke of the dead wood burning,
Or behold the flowing years from the Sea returning?
His soul stretched tight across the skies
That fade behind a city block,
Or trampled by insistent feet
At four and five and six o’clock;
And short square fingers stuffing pipes,
And evening newspapers, and eyes
Assured of certain certainties,
The conscience of a blackened street
Impatient to assume the world.
I am moved by fancies that are curled
Around these images, and cling:
The notion of some infinitely gentle
Infinitely suffering thing.
Wipe your hand across your mouth, and laugh;
The worlds revolve like ancient women
Gathering fuel in vacant lots.
Song of Myself
I CELEBRATE myself, and sing myself,
And what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.
I loafe and invite my soul,
I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass.
My tongue, every atom of my blood, form’d from this soil, this
Born here of parents born here from parents the same, and their
parents the same,
I, now thirty-seven years old in perfect health begin,
Hoping to cease not till death.
— Walt Whitman
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from Canto CXV BY EZRA POUND
The scientists are in terror
and the European mind stops
Wyndham Lewis chose blindness
rather than have his mind stop.
Night under wind mid garofani,
the petals are almost still
Mozart, Linnaeus, Sulmona,
When one’s friends hate each other
how can there be peace in the world?
Their asperities diverted me in my green time.
A blown husk that is finished
but the light sings eternal
a pale flare over marshes
where the salt hay whispers to tide’s change
neither life nor death is the answer.
And of man seeking good,
In meiner Heimat
where the dead walked
and the living were made of cardboard.
“From a student radical/hippie/leftist of the Free Speech Movement/Vietnam Day Commitee era and a full-on Democratic Liberal in the decades after, I think I’ve evolved a politics that is neither right nor left but is, in its elemental nature, draconian. In the last 20 years, I’ve taken apart my beliefs with a sledgehammer. Now I’ve got to put the surviving parts back together with tweezers and other ‘shabby equipment, always deteriorating’.”
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