In the Silver State, where the spirit of the frontier once bloomed like sagebrush after a storm, the Assembly has lately taken to whittling away at the Constitution as a man might shave down a stick of kindling. By a vote of 27-15, they passed Assembly Bill 245, a measure that aims to forbid any citizen under the ripe old age of 21 from owning a semiautomatic gun.
Now, I reckon if a man is old enough at eighteen to shoulder a musket for Uncle Sam and be sent to far-off lands to fight strangers, he ought to be able to mind his gun at home. The wise gentlemen of the Assembly seem to think otherwise, placing their tender faith in the idea that the Second Amendment is a matter of preference rather than a binding guarantee.
Under the newfangled law, any young soul who dares to possess the wrong iron will be declared guilty of a gross misdemeanor–a stain on his name that no soap will wash off. And should he slip again, whether by stubbornness, ignorance, or mere accident, he’ll find himself branded with a category B felony, caged for no less than a year, and maybe lightened of $5,000 besides–enough to break a man trying to earn an honest living.
The bill now ambles toward the Senate, where one hopes cooler heads might prevail. But if not, the State of Nevada may soon be a place where you can sign a mortgage, marry a woman, go to war, and die for your country–but heaven help you if you so much as touch the wrong kind of firearm before blowing out twenty-one candles.
A violation of the Second Amendment? I’d say so–as plain as a steer in a bathtub, but these days, common sense is as rare in politics as rain is in July.
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