There are a lot of things I don’t like about Texas. I’m not comfortable in the heat, and it’s so freaking huge that a trip across feels like an eternity. I’m scared to death of snakes, and all the rest areas have signs warning for rattlesnakes. It freaks me out every time. That being said, there are a lot of things I absolutely love about Texas.
One, of course, is Whataburger. It should be called “WhatAJoyousRapture of MeatandCheese,” because that’s exactly what it is. George is a tried and true WhatABurger fan. He has one in particular we stop at every time we’re in Texas. He has the same affection for it that I have for Krystal (which is another story entirely). Let’s suffice it to say, I know the first exit far enough South on I-75 to get a Krystal burger (or ten), and I mysteriously have to pee every single time we get anywhere close to it.
Though there are some local exceptions, Texas also seems to understand that truckers need places to sleep. They have ample rest areas and are very tolerant of parked trucks. I always appreciate that.
Another thing I like about Texas is the fact you can pretty much assume everyone has a gun. You rarely see a sign prohibiting sidearm possession, except for at Walmart, and since I will wither and die before I ever set foot in another Walmart, I don’t see them at all. I find it asinine that companies would not only prohibit legal weapons, but advertise it on their front doors. Why not put a little sign out front that says, “Please come rob us. We have no way to defend ourselves”?
I can’t understand why people think a cardboard sign could possibly contribute to making sure they’re safe from the maniacs who go shoot places up. If anything, don’t you think a maniac intent on killing a bunch of people would most definitely enter a place that prohibits weapons? You don’t see a lot of fruitcakes running into gun stores and opening fire, do you? No you don’t. They go to schools and movie theaters, where they assume they can cause a maximum amount of damage before anyone has a chance to drop them like a rabid animal.
I grew up in a gun family. The kitchen table at my granny’s house was covered in guns and gun parts every weekend, because my dad, uncles and grandad all chose to exercise their Second Amendment rights to the fullest extent. And guess what? None of them ever once killed a human being. Crazy, right? Quite to the contrary – we were taught safety and respect for the weapons. We were taught how to use them properly and when to use them properly. We were taught to obey the law and that having a deadly weapon is a responsibility as well as a right. No one ever needed a cardboard sign to tell them what to do with their gun.
I realize not everyone shares my beliefs about owning a weapon. That’s the beauty of living in a free country. You don’t have to like it and you don’t have to do it. That doesn’t mean you should be able to keep me from doing it. I wouldn’t force you to own a gun; don’t tell me I can’t have mine. And if you happen to be unfortunate enough to ever be in the general vicinity of an armed robbery (God forbid), I certainly hope your little cardboard sign provides you the necessary protection to keep you from bodily harm. I’ll stick with 9 mm, thankyouverymuch.