Haha, OK, buddy — you’re all done for a little while!
Let’s back up a bit: It looks like George Zimmerman (who shot that kid last year) is shopping around for a tactical shotgun at the same manufacturer that produced the pistol that he shot that kid last year with.
Also, he posed for a photo with the manufacturer’s son, and he rearranged the hair on his head from courtroom Boy-George back to regular Grown-Up-George who shoots kids.
See? Anyway, it’s only logical that George needs a larger gun, now. Pistols are great, but kids are getting bigger and bigger these days, what with all the steroids we pump into our foods and athletes, and sometimes you just need that extra bit of stopping power to get the desired “effect on target.”
If you think this guy is really going over the top, let me stop you right there and give things a little context. Truly understanding George Zimmerman is more about understanding the extreme measures he isn’t taking:
- NOT taking martial arts, or otherwise exercising
- NOT violating Geneva Convention with things like chemical weaponry
- NOT engaged in any means of torture that we know of
- NOT frowning/scowling in photographs
See? Chill. Other stuff he HAS been doing:
- Caught speeding in Texas with a gun in his glove compartment three weeks prior to the above
Haha, what?! Oh man … get a grip, pal! (And I don’t mean a pistol grip!) Here are my — and I assume everybody else’s — favorite parts of this story:
- When asked by the police officer where he was going, Zimmerman replied “nowhere in particular”
- The officer told Zimmerman to “Just take it easy,” and “don’t play with your firearm, OK?”
This raises some interesting, and particularly American, questions regarding the state of our nation.
No, no. Not about gun laws. About something far more serious.
What does one do — and indeed, where does one go — when they’ve already fucked up so bad they can’t retreat to Florida?
Maybe Puerto Rico? I don’t know. But if we don’t consider these problems, we are only going to create more and more heavily armed nomadic fatties with no place to go and nothing to lose. Can you imagine? Roving bands of hungry marauders, stalking our highways in search of trouble? It’s like that book The Road.
[Ed. note: This story contains content aggregated from news aggregate Gawker.com, which I won’t even provide links to, because they ignored my resume. All unquoted words are mine, however.]