There used to be guns in schools.
I had one.
When I lived in Minnesota with my dad the high school had a biathlon team.
He constantly wanted me to get into sports, preferably football.
To be in sports in my school you had to try out for and successfully join TWO teams.
That's why was the hockey goalie.
Dad had mixed feelings about the sports I'd chosen, but his "son" had finally gotten into athletics. Never mind that I was taking karate and riding my bike twenty-five to thirty miles a day. I think he meant "team" sports.
There is no 'I' in 'Team' or 'Hockey', but there sure as fuck is in biathlon!
I'm a good shot. With the constant practice I became an excellent shot. I am not a great cross country skier, but my shooting almost made up for it. Almost.
But we had guns in our school. Locked cabinet in the locker room in the coaches office. I could even sign my rifle out for a weekend and take it home on the school bus, or slung on my back on my bike. And I did too!
Come monday, I'd take it back to school the same way.
Remember, I was a bullied loner gamer geek. I had a rifle, ammunition, anger and skills to hit a head at 50m after cross-country-skiing for a mile. Yet nobody ever died. Nobody even got aimed at. Heck, I never even visualized my bullies as my targets.
Grampa stressed the four rules when we were playing "war" with our toy guns.
The four rules were hammered home learning biathlon because we'd be spared five minutes of time trials skiing for each of the rules we could recite. If you've never skied like this, trust me; it's an incentive.
I was exposed to guns and taught correctly. That's 90% of it.
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The Abode of McThag joins many others in its support of Erin Palette's "coming out".