There is never a time in this country to discuss guns.
In the immediate aftermath of a tragedy like Las Vegas, it is considered an inappropriate moment for debate.
Two weeks after a tragedy like Las Vegas, it’s still an inappropriate moment for debate.
A month after a tragedy like Las Vegas, other tragedies have occurred. Storms. Blasts. Terrorist attacks. So we don’t have a gun debate.
Then another gun tragedy happens, and the immediate aftermath is considered an inappropriate moment for debate.
Two weeks after another gun tragedy, it’s still an inappropriate moment for debate.
A month after another gun tragedy, other tragedies have occurred. Storms. Blasts. Terrorist attacks. So we don’t have a gun debate.
On.
And on.
And on.
We are a flawed species. There was, some 30 years ago, a film with Jeff Bridges called “Starman.” I remember loving it, and one exchange in particular …
The one line—”You are a strange species …”—had me sold. And yet, as I sit here as an adult, I realize it’s completely untrue. It’s pure puffy bullshit, written by Raynold Gideon for a screenplay and nothing more. We are not particularly beautiful. We are not at our best when things are worst. In truth, we create the worst. We make really bad, but never fix it. There are no solutions too simple for humanity to butcher; no obvious answers too easy to screw up.
The gun debate isn’t actually a debate: Too many guns equal too many deaths.
We can fix that.
But we never will.
