It Happened, Hell Froze Over

I've always believed that one should never say never. And I'm about to prove why. As you all know, I'm fiercely pro gun control. I've always thought keeping guns in the home was ludicrous, and have supported any piece of legislation which aimed to keep guns off the streets. Basically, second amendment my ass. I'd never seen an actual gun (aside from the ones the cops carry), let alone touched one. The concept of firing a gun seemed as likely to me as meeting the President of Burundi. In fact, they downright scared me. But after much thought, it ocurred to me that just like anything else, if I hoped to have an even semi-convincing argument against the use of guns, I should have some actual practical, instead of just theoretical, experience.

Which brings us to yesterday, and my hours spent at the shooting range with my uncle. Believe me, nobody is more shocked by this development than me. But I went for two reasons. One, in order to see once and for all what the big deal is. Why people are so adamant that they be allowed the opportunity to hold, own, and shoot guns on a regular basis. And to learn what I could about the mechanics: what a gun actually weighs, what it takes to aim properly, how likely it is that you will actually shoot something you're aiming at, how difficult it would be for me (and also for a small child), to remove the safety, etc... And second, because like any other phobia, the best way to conquer it is to address it head on. In that vain, I present to you the sixth sign of the Apocalypse: Sol, armed.
This is with a Revolver, .22 caliber

This is a Pistol, also a .22 caliber. It's much lighter and smaller.

If you look closely behind me, you can see the target. It seems that I'm actually a pretty good shot. I'm both extremely proud and terribly horrified.