Let’s be clear: I’m not a real Starbucks fan in the first place. The coffee is horribly expensive and, frankly, you can get a better cup for a quarter of the price at a Quick Trip. Interestingly enough, even McDonald’s has stepped up their coffee quality lately. Dunkin’ Donuts is good also, but I prefer to sweeten my own coffee, thank you, so don’t ask me how many Sweet ‘n Lows I want.
Another thing …. I stopped going to Starbucks when they came out and openly supported Obama for a second term. I guess it goes with the territory … Seattle and all that … but I prefer not to support businesses that actively participate in the destruction of our country … and supporting Obama fits that bill. That’s why Boortz appearances have been rare around such places as Starbucks, Costco, Kohl’s, and Atlanta Falcon Football games. (Can you believe Falcons owner Arthur Blank throwing a fundraiser for Obama?)
Now … the big coffee news yesterday was the CEO of Starbucks sending a letter – and Tweets – to Starbucks customers asking them not to bring weapons into Starbucks even if they happen to have a valid concealed carry permit. Fine … that’s his privilege. To be perfectly honest, though, it was the gun owners themselves that goaded him into this. It seems that some Starbucks locations have been targeted by permit holders to flaunt their weapons. They would gather at a particular Starbucks with their pistols visible in holsters – and sometimes carrying rifles.
Frankly, I find it hard to fault the Starbucks CEO for his actions. Some customers are just not going to be comfortable with a bunch of show-offs brandishing their guns in a coffee shop.
Yes … I have a permit to carry a weapon. And yes … I have received some pretty extensive training in the use of that weapon (An Uselton 1911) and appropriate safety measures. And yes … I do carry that weapon—CONCEALED—when I think the situation warrants it … and that means pretty much everywhere I go in Atlanta. The key word, though, is “concealed.” I believe that to flaunt your weapon is to invite trouble. I don’t need some thug deciding to test just how tough I am. If you walk through life in a fighting pose with your fists balled up and ready to strike, someone, someday, somewhere, is going to want to test your mettle. I can think of only one time where I wanted it to be clear that I was armed … and that was gassing up in Atlanta at a station that, shall we say, was not in one of Atlanta’s finest neighborhoods. One guy at another pump looked at me, looked down at my holster, and then gave me a big thumbs up. “Smart move,” he said. “Especially here.” If the clerk inside is behind a bulletproof barrier … well, there’s your clue.
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