I’m a dreamer. I can’t help it. I’ve seen The Lion King too many times not to be a visionary. I have many dreams, desires and visions. One in particular is to hunt all of the big five dangerous game animals in Africa. If I live long enough I plan on making that happen. Here’s another thing I’d like to see, a dream I’ve been having lately: I’d like to see a nationwide tsunami of ladies equipped to the teeth with the physical prowess and the firearm capability to kill any and all would-be murderers and rapists should such creeps ever accost them (as in the Petit murders).
I have a dream!
A dream where girls walk in utter confidence amongst the masturbatory me-monkeys who surround them. A dream where women have solid assurance that they can and will serve some ham-fisted tool his own scrotum if need be.
I have a dream!
A dream where instead of reading about a cute college coed left dead and naked out in a vacant lot or bloated and floating in a river, the story reads: “dead jackass found double-tapped and dead on the curb as his soul wings its way to Hades—all because he messed with the wrong mama.”
A dream where it’s normal for girls to know Jiu-Jitsu and mixed martial arts. A dream where they can shoot golf ball sized groups with their .38 at 15 feet. A dream where they have a BS detector that’s so sensitive they can read people and environments with godlike clarity within a nanosecond.
I have a dream!
A dream where the Joran van der Sloots and all the other Bobbie Cutts-like splooge brained droogies in the midst of us live forever in fear. A dream where parents will raise their daughters to be sweet and deadly dames.
I have a dream where if some moron in the name of his stupid religion ever abuses his wife or daughter and God doesn’t strike him dead on the spot, that his wife or daughter will. Okay, maybe that’s too extreme. How about put him in an irreversible coma?
I have a dream!
A dream where the tide turns in the news cycle, and we start hearing reports of murderous men going to an early grave instead of sending a good girl to hers. A dream where if a girl tells her buddies that a guy is bothering her, her friends scare the living daylights out of him.
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I have a dream!
How did this dream come about? This holy vision came from God in direct response to my prayers over the cultural nightmare women in the U.S. live with now.
In addition to God birthing this vision within me, another factor gave rise to this would-be dream world of mine: I just realized that protective fathers, brothers, friends and uncles aren’t omnipresent (I know … I’m slow. I went to public school), and therefore all girls everywhere have to rely upon themselves as their own first line of defense.
Yes, since their gallant male counterparts can’t be everywhere at all times to render aid, we’ve got make certain that our babies know how to leave a bad guy severely inoperative and, if need be, kill him all by their lonesome. That is my definition of “girl power.” This is my dream: all girls of every conceivable stripe having the attitude, skill, and force to pulverize a felonious punk.
I’d like to see the following:
• One million girls flooding into martial art classes
• One million girls getting handgun training
• One million girls purchasing their own piece and getting licensed to carry it
• One million girls getting a heavy dose of common sense to avoid dangerous scenarios as much as possible
This concludes my heavenly vision.
I know this not a pleasant topic to contemplate; however, this is the world we live in, and to be forewarned is to be forearmed.
Think about how many girls would be alive and pursuing their desires today … if only they had known how to fight. And think of all the punks who would be in jail or worse … if only their victims had known how to immobilize the imbeciles.
Given the violent culture we inhabit here in the United States of Acrimony, I have purposefully raised my daughters with this maxim: When the crap hits the fan, be the fan.
Dad, one of the greatest things you can give your girl is the ability to shoot—to rock in a hard place—should the occasion ever arise. Be prepared.
If you want more 411 on raising righteous and rowdy kids in a rank day, download a copy of my book, How to Keep Jackasses Away from Daddy’s Girl. Also, check out my daughter Regis’ gun-loving apparel company, Girls Just Wanna Have Guns.
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