Gun control? Not nearly enough. The very sound of the word gun should be illegal, and any object that so much as resembles a gun should be banned:
I know some people with the surname Gunn. The question is, should they be enrolled in re-education camps, or just forced to change their names? Perhaps to World Peace? (There’s precedent for that.)
And, in the meantime, says Jim Geraghty, here’s a note from the National Security Agency: “Call your mother. Our records indicate that it’s been a while.”
“Those who expect to reap the blessings of freedom,” wrote Thomas Paine in The American Crisis (No. 4, 1777), “must, like men, undergo the fatigue of supporting it.” He was, quite obviously, a paranoid loon. Much like Wendell Phillips, whose “Eternal vigilance is the price of liberty,” spoken in an address to the Massachusetts Antislavery Society in 1852, has often been misattributed to yet another right-wing crazy, one Thomas Jefferson.
Here’s the close of George Orwell’s 1984:
“Winston, sitting in a blissful dream, paid no attention as his glass was filled up. He was not running or cheering any longer. He was back in the Ministry of Love, with everything forgiven, his soul white as snow. He was in the public dock, confessing everything, implicating everybody. He was walking down the white-tiled corridor, with the feeling of walking in sunlight, and an armed guard at his back. The longhoped-for bullet was entering his brain.
“He gazed up at the enormous face. Forty years it had taken him to learn what kind of smile was hidden beneath the dark moustache. O cruel, needless misunderstanding! O stubborn, self-willed exile from the loving breast! Two gin-scented tears trickled down the sides of his nose. But it was all right, everything was all right, the struggle was finished. He had won the victory over himself. He loved Big Brother.”