GUNS IS FUNS. My hands and arms hurt because yesterday I went to the small arms range with the Old Oligarch. It was only the second time I’d been shooting, and the first time was with a rifle; the pistol was much easier and more rewarding. My aim improved rapidly, whereas aiming the rifle was just a crapshoot given my limited upper-body strength and hand-eye coordination. However, I did learn that I have pretty much no strength in my arms and hands, hence today’s pain. Russo lent me one of those executive squeezy balls that you use to strengthen your hands, and I hope to be much faster and better next time. Anyway, it was a total blast.

And the Oligarch pointed out that learning to shoot can dissipate the air of taboo that hangs around guns for people like me, who were not raised with ’em–he’s totally right that there’s this fear that guns, all by themselves, just randomly go off, that if you pick up a gun you’re quite likely to shoot your foot or something, whereas in fact even someone with my build and sensible-but-somewhat-clueless level of inexperience can handle a gun safely. The recoil, for example, was negligible, and the gun was certainly not on a hair-trigger. (I was using a Glock .22, I think–is that the smallest?)

Guns are weapons and need to be treated as such: The O.O. gave the standard rules, including, “Assume all guns are loaded unless you can clearly see that it’s empty, you’ve emptied it yourself or you’ve seen it emptied, and it hasn’t left your sight since,” “Never point a gun at anything you don’t want to hit,” and, “Always look behind your target.” (Here’s an illustrative story from Jane Galt on what not to do.) But guns aren’t wild animals just playing ‘possum until they can lash out at their owners.

…More relevantly for my range experience, as I noted at the top of this post, guns is funs. Many thanks to the O.O. for his patient instruction!