The Weekly Screed (#626)

An offer virtually too good
for the gun lobby to turn down
by David Benjamin

PARIS — It’s a brainstorm so dazzling it could have come only from America’s foremost “idea man,” Dr. Wilhelm “Machine Gun” Bienfang.

Bienfang’s latest money-making scheme is the issue of gun violence. “I feel so sorry for the National Rifle Association,” he said. “By pushing total  access to all firearms, the NRA ends up fighting for muggers, poachers, vandals, neo-Nazi wackos and mass murderers. But deep down, the NRA doesn’t care about crooks like that, or homeowners defending their families, or hunters, skeet shooters, or any other consumers of modern weaponry. The NRA is a corporate front, whose main job is lobbying Congress on behalf of gun manufacturers.”

Bienfang advises gun control advocates to ignore the NRA, which is the mere mouthpiece of the money men, and go straight to gun makers with an offer too juicy to resist. “And when you meet the gun men,” said Bienfang. “the first hero you should mention is that five-year-old boy in Kentucky who blew away his two-year-old sister with a brightly-colored, specially designed toddler rifle.”

“It’s called a Crickett,” I said. “A toy gun that shoots real bullets.”

“Tragic, yes. But heroic! Because that kid clarifies the issue: The solution to the gun crisis, as the NRA often says, is more guns. But the NRA is naïve. We need tons more guns than even Wayne LaPierre ever wished for in his wildest dreams.”

“More guns? Tons?” I asked. “Isn’t 310 million enough?”

“Not even close!” Bienfang raved on. “Re-read the Second Amendment — especially the ‘well-regulated militia’ part. NRA types like to skip this clause because it implies that only members of this militia should be able to buy the street-sweeper of their choice. But those twelve little words open the floodgates. They could expand the gun industry ten-fold, while pacifying the gun-control crowd.”

When I asked for an explanation, Bienfang started talking about the Draft.
“Every 18-year-old male has to register for the military, right? Even though the Draft is defunct. You go to the post office and sign up for a virtual Army.”

“This is true,” I mused. “You register, but you never have to serve.”

“Exactly,” said Bienfang. “We can work the same deal with this imaginary militia that’s in the Constitution but doesn’t exist in real life. We draft everybody into the virtual militia, and then they can stock up on all the guns they want.”

“I see,” I said. “ But if you don’t sign up at 18, you can’t get a gun. Right?”

“Why 18? And why just males?” Bienfang said. “Let’s register everyone at age five, boys and girls, just like our pint-size Minuteman in Kentucky. Make everyone buy a semi-automatic combat weapon, specified by the Pentagon and made in the U.S.A. And — here’s the best part, because let’s face it, a well-built gun is too well-built. It can last a lifetime. So, Congress, every five years, would have to vote brand-new virtual-militia gun specs. And every law-abiding citizen would have to go out and spend $500 or $1,000 on a new gun all over again.”

I recognized the implications. Currently, 220,000 Americans work in the gun industry, building some 6 million guns a year and generating $33 billion in annual revenue. By forcing every family of four to buy and maintain four guns every five years — those numbers would explode. Gun makers would be like oil companies.

“My God, Bienfang,” I said. “At that rate, every 70-year-old would eventually own a stockpile of 14 military-grade weapons capable of killing ten, 20, 30 people in a matter of seconds. Every broom closet in suburbia would be an arsenal.”

“Not an arsenal,” insisted Bienfang. “A ‘well-regulated militia.’ Every shooter would be trained, and — here’s the carrot for gun-control freaks — each gun would be registered, just like the family pickup truck or the TV set from Rent-A-Center.”

“I guess,” I said skeptically. “But the family pickup would be full of guns, and you’d have ordnance all over the house, in the cellar, pantry, attic, nursery…”

“Not necessarily,” said Bienfang. “Because pretty soon, there would emerge, almost organically, the Bienfang national network of federally insured gun banks.”

“Gun banks?”

“Let’s say that you’d rather your house wasn’t overflowing with M-16’s, AR-15’s and Uzis. After all,” said Bienfang, “even a well-drilled 6-year-old is going to slip up once in a while and grease the family cat, or gut-shoot the meter-reader.”

I agreed vehemently. Bienfang rolled on. “So, your options are: a) Trade in your old guns for new. Or b) take your surplus guns and sell them. Or c) if you want to keep them — but not at home — deposit them in your local gun bank. After that, every five years, rather than shlepping to Walmart for your new virtual-militia sniper-rifle, it goes directly into your account at Bienfang’s.”

Here, Bienfang revealed the true genius of his idea: “Eventually, gun makers wouldn’t bother to actually, physically, manufacture your particular gun, or anyone else’s. I mean, we’re talking about a make-believe militia here. So, all the gun company has to do, really, is collect your money and record your gun deposit — virtually — in the gun bank.”

“Wait,” I said. “So all of us, loyal members of America’s 2nd-Amendment virtual militia, would end up buying, every five years, a virtual gun.”

“Wait!” exclaimed Bienfang. “Who said five years? If every gun is make-believe, why not make everyone buy one every year? Better yet: enlist everyone in the direct-deposit Virtual Gun of the Month Club! America’s virtual gun makers would wallow in non-virtual wealth, Uncle Sam would score billions in kickbacks, the NRA would shut up at last! And pretty soon— ”

“Pretty soon,” I broke in enthusiastically, “anyone with actual live firearms cluttering up his house would look as outdated as one of those old farts nowadays, with a landline phone, who only uses it to talk on the phone.”

“I rest my case,” said Bienfang.