Something must be done.

Ever since filming of Charlie’s Angels finished, sales of snub-nosed 0.38s have apparently just plummeted. Actually, it’s not just them – those who interacted with a certain Mr Thomas Magnum seemed to be proponents as well. Maybe it was just an 80s thing. Perhaps Sydney Sheldon had shares in the factory, I dunno. But it just seems that the class of your average thug has dropped a few rungs since that golden age when the lovely Jaclyn Smith, the hotttttt Cheryl Ladd and that other chick – Mrs King, I think she was – used to solve all manner of crimes and stuff aided by nothing but a tie-side bikini and a piece that fit in your pocket. Not today, though. Those big shiny slide guns, while admittedly quite masculine, are too much chrome in an already overly blinged world. And the Glock is just so soulless, I think. Sure, they’re efficient and well designed and all, but then they come from Sweden, don’t they?
Speaking of which (whom?), is there like some kind of handgun superstore, where you have to be in a committed kidnapper/kidnappee relationship to shop there? Outside of the ‘States, I mean. That could really work, you know. You’d get a little flat package with an Allen key and a pre-rounded Phillips head screwdriver, and by the time the thing was assembled you’d forget who you were angry at. Then there’s bound to be a vital bit missing that prevents it working at all.
That could be an effective means of – it irks me to say it – gun control. (Have to say, I’m with Ted Nugent on this one. It was he who suggested that gun control meant the ability to put two rounds through the same hole.)
Maybe we could get back to a simpler time, when just having a gun gave you an inflated sense of power and self-worth. Rather than having to have the biggest gun. Or maybe, just maybe, I’ve been watching too much day-time Tee Vee.