Glennon Doyle

 

 

I just received a beautiful video from Glennon Doyle. I don’t know her or anything, but I do follow her and the work she does.

 

The video is about the students who are leading the way toward sanity in our gun-crazed country. It’s truth. It’s sad. It’s inspiring. It’s real.

Grave New World

 

 

So this is our life now. This is what we’ll see before going to bed at night and what we’ll read first thing in the morning.

 

The past week’s various shootings across America have left me feeling like a 4-year old. I don’t understand much of anything. My safety is in the hands of others (who may or may not be able to provide it). Any knowledge I’ve gleaned from my short time on this planet is mostly useless. At the same time, I feel ancient. My body and mind are too tired to keep going in a world that refuses to learn. The ignorance and fear of my countrymen is heartbreaking. I’ve seen this all before and cannot understand why we’ve not yet chosen change.

 

And yet we continue down our road of ignorance and hate. We indoctrinate our children by openly discussing our fear-rooted racism at the dinner table. We use slurs in the presence of impressionable teens. We buy more and more weapons and espouse our rights in doing so. We think it’s okay to walk onto a college campus with a gun thrown over our shoulder. In short, we are fools.

 

So this is our life now. I daresay our situation is dire, our world grave. If we choose to watch the evening news before going to bed, we will likely see reports of yet another senseless killing. If we elect to read the papers after we wake, we’ll read much of the same. It is pitiful and pathetic. And I will never understand it.

When Is Enough Enough?

 

 

The murder-suicide that ripped through UCLA 2 days ago is reverberating. It’s being discussed and dissected. As of this writing, 2 innocent people are dead (1 here and 1 in Minnesota), along with the shooter. Countless others are forever affected.

 

Reading about the students’ and teachers’ traumatic experience during the UCLA shooting brought back a memory of a brush I had with lockdown, when a gunman was being sought. (The link to my writing about that is here.) My rough night was tame in comparison, scary though it was. And while I realize some folks at UCLA are probably back to their routines, I’m quite certain many others are still trying to shake off the horrid fear of Wednesday morning. And there’s just no telling how long that will take. It’s complicated. And ugly. Pathetic even. This sort of all-too-common occurrence is ridiculous. We don’t know if these tragedies can be traced to mental illness, or to a failure to value life, or to something else entirely. For anyone who’s lost a loved one, the reason – if at all nameable – will never be enough. In fact, a long list of reasons won’t change one simple truth: Guns are far too easy to obtain.

 

Here’s what I want to know: When is enough enough? For the tunnel-visioned NRA lobbyists and gun-obsessed, what will it take to enact stricter gun laws? I mean it. Sit down and formulate your magic number, then tell the rest of us just how many innocent people have to die before you’ll accept changes to current lax gun restrictions. I’m serious. You decide. How many is it? Clearly, lives lost thus far don’t matter enough to alter the fact that it’s all-too-easy to purchase a firearm. So I’m asking you, the gun-toting, second-amendment-quoting citizens of this country, to decide how many lives it takes to enact change.

 

Don’t want that responsibility? I didn’t think so.

Only In L.A.

 

 

Not sure how you’ll be celebrating tomorrow night’s New Year’s Eve, but whatever you do – please heed the advice on this L.A. bus and keep your guns aimed low, yo. Only in L.A., friends. Only in L.A.

Patriotism in Da Hood

 

 

Yesterday I found myself tooling about Da Hood. I mean Da Hood, y’all. As in, please don’t ever make me go there except in daylight.

 

For most of my hood drive, I was behind a thug-mobile covered in stickers proclaiming love for various types of guns. As in, “I Love My Gat.” And “I Love My Nine.” The kid driving couldn’t have been more than about 20 and he should’ve scared the pee out of me.

 

But he didn’t. I’m not sure why, but I kept seeing his eyes in his rear-view and I couldn’t help thinking he was posing. Now I wouldn’t have challenged that kid – on any subject – for nothing. But I wasn’t afraid. Of him. His bumper stickers freaked me out, but not him.

 

As I made my way through Da Hood, I successfully avoided some sort of major ruckus involving multiple police officers. It must’ve been something, as others were standing on the tops of their cars and taking pictures with their phones. I didn’t see any of it, as I was just trying to circumvent the entire scene. I succeeded.

 

At some point, I spotted the flag in the above photo. It was gi-normous, I tell you. Upon first seeing it, I couldn’t help thinking how if it fell on me, I’d be a goner. But it didn’t fall. It just waved in the wind and billowed on the breeze. It’s one of the biggest flags I’ve seen around L.A. Maybe they’re just more patriotic in Da Hood. Go figure.

 

And if they’re not more patriotic, well, there’s at least one kid there who loves his guns more than Ted Nugent ever will. Nothing says “America” like…