A little quiet here in Casa Cameron

Sorry for the radio silence. I’ve spent the last couple of days watching the news about the Orlando shooting and having what I will politely term as “discussions” with people about why AR-15s do not belong in civilian hands. A word of warning; if you are someone who does believe that we all need assault weapons because of the people’s militia/Second Amendment/gotta protect myself from the government, please go away. I’m not interested in your Founding Father gun porn dreams about “good guys with guns.” And I will delete any comments to that effect.

While I didn’t lose a friend or loved on in the shooting in Orlando early Sunday morning, I do have friends who live there, ones whom I wasn’t sure hadn’t been at the club until they all checked in later that day. That is a sensation I would not wish on anyone. I can’t even imagine how it must have felt for the family members and friends who did have someone who had gone to Pulse that night, who were still waiting to find out whether or not that person was alive or dead.

49 of those families are now facing the task of burying a loved one. Claiming the body and arranging for a funeral is bad (and expensive) enough, but there’s all the other stuff that happens after someone you love dies. Cleaning out their home and trying to figure out what to do with their belongings. Finding a home for their pets. Closing out their social media accounts. Dealing with bill collectors wanting to know why the last credit card payment hadn’t been made (and suggesting that since you’re family, it’s your duty to take on that debt. Just so you know, you are not legally liable for a non-spousal loved one’s debt if you didn’t co-sign on it.)

These 49 families not only have to deal with all that, they have to deal with certain religious individuals (I won’t sully the title “pastor” by giving it to them) celebrating their loved one’s death and calling it “community service.” They have to deal with getting sucked into the ongoing debate about gun control. In a few cases, they have to deal with the fact that their loved one was gay and was too afraid to tell them.

I don’t even know where I’m going with this. All I know is that I’m sad and angry that 49 people were violently murdered by one small, vicious, self-hating person, and delighted as hell that Democratic representatives started shouting “Where’s the bill?” after yet another useless minute of silence, and that Democratic senators are even now filibustering in the Senate to demand new gun laws.

Sandy Hook. Virginia Tech. San Bernardino. Orlando.

Mass shootings like these don’t happen anymore in Canada, or Australia, or New Zealand, or the UK. They’ve got to stop here.

If you’re an American, please vote in November and help stop the next massacre before it happens.



About Nicola Cameron

Nicola Cameron has had some interesting adventures in her life -- ask her sometime about dressing up as Tietania, Queen of the Bondage Fairies. When not writing, she wrangles cats, makes dolls of dubious and questionable identity, and thanks almighty Cthulhu that she doesn’t have to work for a major telecommunications company any more (because there’s BDSM, and then there’s just plain torture...).

Posted on June 15, 2016, in Personal. Bookmark the permalink. 2 Comments.

  1. Hi hon, I am glad for our gun laws and politics, things are not perfect here, as we keep trying to get gay marriage rights through, but I am grateful we don’t have big guns in the hands of people who hate. xxx

    • The problem is multisided — we have gun manufacturers who want to make money, politicians who are more than happy to block reasonable gun laws as long as they get “donations” from said gun manufacturers, the NRA doing their usual cheerleading of owning more and bigger firepower, and a subset of people who subscribe to a cultural mindset that celebrates gun ownership as a fond remembrance of the good old pioneering days (you know, when men were men, women did what they were told, and people of color could be killed with impunity)

      To borrow a line from a comic whose name I’m blanking on at the moment, if these folks want to wear powdered wigs, shit in chamber pots, and live off what they can kill with muskets, they’re more than welcome to do just that. But they want a law written in the 1700s to apply to 21st century weaponry, and that is where I call bullshit.

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