Hoppy Hopkins, Indianapolis
It’s 2015 now. I’ll go ahead and ask this for you, since you’re dead now. So it goes.
Where the Fuh-kar-wee?
Nowhere good, that’s where.
Humans continue to do dumb, dumb, things. We’re the dumbest. And really, the violentest, too.
I think about animals, you know, the innocent creatures. They coexist and survive don’t make weapons or kill for any other reason than self-defense or the food chain.
Humans are different, of course. In 2015, humans walk with their heads down stuck in the infomatrix of tiny machines. Everything keeps getting smaller and smaller. Soon, we humans will be stuck looking at tiny dots that shout out answers to all of life’s questions. Those dots will play music and project videos and all that.
The guns won’t get smaller, though. I expect there might even be a time where a man’s house is burning down and the two things he grabs on the way out are his gun and his ammunition. Maybe that tiny dot, too.
Of course, I don’t have to tell you all that. You’re somewhere now, somewhere different. Maybe you’re having a smoke with Ernest Hemingway or James Joyce or trying to explain what in the hell a “Hoosier” is to the Bard himself. Heck, you might just be sleeping. I guess it doesn’t matter what you’re doing. What matters is what humans are doing now because of you.
There are some who are reading, writing, and laughing. There are some who aren’t looking at tiny worthless dots or shooting whoever cut in line at the movie theater. I know you didn’t make these nice decent folks, but I do know that you at least didn’t do them any harm.
You probably did help some of them, though, whether or you want to admit it or not.
I know because I’m one of them.
The only gun I ever owned made this: a baby girl. And if there’s a fire in my house, she’ll be the first thing I rescue. Second? A bag a marshmallows. I figure I mine as well find find some positive in a bad situation.
thanks be to time,