We promised Bill of Rights, so Bill of Rights it shall be. First, the Second Amendment and our Nation’s Capital.
Our ever-amusing and multi-talented civil rights abuser, the D.C. City Government has determined that no matter what the U.S. Supreme Court says, no way, no how are any law abiding citizens with the District ever going to own semiautomatic pistols. Only revolvers. And they’ll tie you up in so much red tape, you’d wish you’d never even thought of exercising your civil rights.
In a bit of irony, the majority black government of the District is imposing laws preventing its majority black populace from owning guns for self defense. Much like the racist white Jim Crow South did in order to keep blacks down. Not pretty.
I say D.C. residents should beat their government at its own game. Go out and purchase this lovely revolver, which is capable of handling both .45 ACP and .410 shot shells in the same cylinder. While not very accurate at any large distance, this weapon is more than capable of putting big holes in an intruder who, with bad intent, comes into your abode uninvited. And its at least as powerful and “scary,” if not more so, than the big, bad semiautomatic handguns the District wants to prevent you from owning.
Always right, unless he isn’t, the infallible Ghettoputer F. X. Gormogons claims to be an in-law of the Volgi, although no one really believes this.
’Puter carefully follows economic and financial trends, legal affairs, and serves as the Gormogons’ financial and legal advisor. He successfully defended us against a lawsuit from a liquor distributor worth hundreds of thousands of dollars in unpaid deliveries of bootleg shandies.
The Geep has an IQ so high it is untestable and attempts to measure it have resulted in dangerously unstable results as well as injuries to researchers. Coincidentally, he publishes intelligence tests as a side gig.
His sarcasm is so highly developed it borders on the psychic, and he is often able to insult a person even before meeting them. ’Puter enjoys hunting small game with 000 slugs and punt guns, correcting homilies in real time at Mass, and undermining unions. ’Puter likes to wear a hockey mask and carry an axe into public campgrounds, where he bursts into people’s tents and screams. As you might expect, he has been shot several times but remains completely undeterred.
He assures us that his obsessive fawning over news stories involving women teachers sleeping with young students is not Freudian in any way, although he admits something similar once happened to him. Uniquely, ’Puter is unable to speak, read, or write Russian, but he is able to sing it fluently.
Geep joined the order in the mid-1980s. He arrived at the Castle door with dozens of steamer trunks and an inarticulate hissing creature of astonishingly low intelligence he calls “Sleestak.” Ghettoputer appears to make his wishes known to Sleestak, although no one is sure whether this is the result of complex sign language, expert body posture reading, or simply beating Sleestak with a rubber mallet.
‘Puter suggests the Czar suck it.