Open Carry Comebacks to Odd Looks & ?s

[Loadedtech]

I am here in VA Beach and just got my CHP. I noticed a guy oc right outside my business, entering a neighbor business. I just smiled and noded. I honestly would have felt more comfortable if I had one on. Still researching myself before I purchase.

[DefensiveCarry.com]

[Sonora Rebel]

After awhile... ya get tired of it.... the 'questions.
I've crafted a few or the following responses 'n repeated others. 'Depends on who is asking...

Why do you carry a gun (or words to that effect)...:

Because the Sheriff's too heavy...
In accordance with the prophesy...
The voices tell me...
Because I can.
Because you won't.
Zombies!
Apache's!
It's what I do...

[jwhite75]

WV is technically an OC state but it is not common practice. Some folks are much too wrapped up in their world to noice a well holstered firearm on your waist. Plus, if you are carrying yourself with a certain decorum, most don't question it. I have OC on certain occasions, and it was not even noticed by some but those who did didnt say a word because I was acting like I had some sense for lack of a better phrase. But if asked by anyone but LEO I would just say "I have a permit." That will generally sooth most people. LEO I would just do what they ask and politely explain the law to them if they are uninformed.

[LongRider]

I don't carry a gun.. to kill people.
I carry a gun to keep from being killed.

I don't carry a gun to scare people.
I carry a gun because sometimes this world can be a scary place.

I don't carry a gun because I'm paranoid.
I carry a gun because there are real threats in the
world.

I don't carry a gun because I'm evil.
I carry a gun because I have lived long enough to see
the evil in the world.

I don't carry a gun because I hate the government.
I carry a gun because I understand the limitations of
government.

I don't carry a gun because I'm angry.
I carry a gun so that I don't have to spend the rest
of my life hating myself for failing to be prepared.

I don't carry a gun because my sex organs are too
small.
I carry a gun because I want to continue to use those
sex organs for the purpose for which they were
intended for a good long time to come.

I don't carry a gun because I want to shoot someone.
I carry a gun because I want to die at a ripe old age
in my bed,and not on a sidewalk somewhere tomorrow
afternoon.

I don't carry a gun because I'm a cowboy.
I carry a gun because, when I die and go to heaven, I
want to be a cowboy.

I don't carry a gun to make me feel like a man.
I carry a gun because men know how to take care of
themselves and the ones they love.

I don't carry a gun because I feel inadequate.
I carry a gun because unarmed and facing three armed
thugs, I am inadequate.

I don't carry a gun because I love it.
I carry a gun because I love life and the people who
make it meaningful to me.

Source unknown

[270sniper]

a response i came up with the other day (that i havent used yet) is
"me carrying a gun is no different than you knowing the number for 911. you hope you never need it, but if you do, you'll be glad you have it"

[LongRider]

If I had a nickel for every time I've been asked that question, I'd have, uh ... as many guns as his firearm-festooned Editorial Immenseness, Roy-Boy. It's been asked of me by all flavors of folks in all slices of society, with attitudes and expressions ranging from angry-arrogant to curtly-contemptuous, to brainless an' befuddled. My answers to it have sorta formed three phases in my professional gun-carrying life. During that first and longest phase, I answered all of 'era sincerely and articulately, often following up with stacks of historic and legal documents. After many years, I concluded only a semi-significant sliver of people even heard what I was sayin'. The rest had already made up their muddled minds.

Finally, I just got sick of it, and moved on to Phase 2. If those asking seemed to have teensy open spaces in their minds, I gave 'em S & A: "Sincere & Articulate." The more harshly-bleating sheep, however, often got exchanges like this:

"So," queried Snidely Snotworth III, lookin' down his unbusted but needed-bustin' nose, "Why do you think you have to carry a gun?"

"Well," bellowed the Brutish Neanderthal (that would be me): "Because you're not QUALIFIED to carry one. You haven't got the skills, the judgment, the sense of responsibility, or the courage for it."

This answer often popped out after I'd just returned from some Heart-Of-Darkness where every living soul knew that the difference between slaves and free people is having the means and determination to defend their lives, property and liberties. That meant having guns and guts and God-given rights. Most of those people would quite literally die fighting for the freedoms so many Americans casually give away, and proudly bear social responsibilities those sheeple * won't even recognize.

* Sheeple: Sheep-like people, many of whom deny the existence of wolves, and vote to pull the teeth of the sheepdogs who protect the flock.

The Voices

Then I matriculated to Phase 3, where I started having some fun with the Snidely Snotworth types. When they asked the Big Question, I'd go all hunchy-shouldered an' secretive, then lean in close and mutter, "Because of the voices, ya know?" "The VOICES?" sniveled the Snidelies, suddenly scaredy-cattish. "Oh, yeah, the voices ... They told me to be, you know, prepared for when the killer clowns come ... " I'd furtively goggle around. "The voices say the killer clowns are comin' ... They're cannibals, some of 'era, and ..."

About that time the Snidelies would be skitterin' away like mice on polished marble.

Yeah, I know, the "killer clowns" answer might not have been "helpful," but it did just as much good as giving S&A answers to the sheeple, and it was a lot more fun for me. I know you already know why we carry these cannons. But sometimes, just sometimes, we all need a little reminder. That includes me, and I've got one to share with you. One that got me where I live.

The Connor Clan has been nomadic, and we've lived in a number of places. In one of 'era, we shared a side yard and friendship with a young woman we'll call Miss Maine, and her knee-high daughter, Little Lizzie. Miss Maine quickly bonded with the Memsaab Helena. Clearly, Helena's Amazon-warrior spirit and skill with arms impressed Miss Maine mightily, and much of their time and talk revolved around that fierce self-confidence--and guns.

As for Little Lizzie, the munchkin almost duct-taped herself to the Mem's leg. She followed Helena everywhere, but always, always, kept glancing back to check on her momma, as though she were the worried parent.

There was something guarded, something hurt and defensive about both of them, and that fearfulness extended to me for a while. They got over it, thank God. Then I sorta became a moving bunker for 'em, representing cover and protection. Finally, we learned the story.

Miss Maine had been attacked--brutally and viciously. You don't wanta know the details. As with so many such crimes, it wasn't really about sex. It was about hate and domination, cowardice and cruelty. And an even younger Little Lizzie had witnessed it. I like to think the Memsaab and I helped them to recover emotionally.

Then one day Lizzie came and snuggled into my shadow, visibly disturbed. That morning her kindergarten had put on "Frighten The Munchkins Day." Some schools do a pretty good job of alerting children to predators--don't go with strangers and that kinda thing--but others do more harm than good. All they do is terrify the tots and give 'era no operating options. Lizzie already had twin tears glistening, ready to fall when she grabbed a tiny fistful of my trouser-leg and asked, "Connor-Sir, will you a'ways be here? Wouldja be here ... When the bad mens come?"

My knees cracked on the sidewalk as she slammed into my shoulder, shaking with sobs as the hot tears came, splashing my neck and searing into my soul. "'Cause I'm a-scared!" she choked, and clutched me tighter. Oh, GOD/Who would not--who could not--fight without fear, suffer without sense of sacrifice, and kill or die deliberately, using the most effective means available--to protect life, liberty and a Little Lizzie? For God's sake, who?

Those who would not are no better than the predators.

Maybe in Phase 4, when somebody pops The Big Question I'll just smile and say, "For life, liberty and Little Lizzie." You guys can fill in the details.

John Connors
Gun Crank Diaries
American Handgunner
August 2005
http://www.americanhandgunner.com/CGC705.html

[Chesphoto]

After reading this entire post, I thought of a great response to put the sheep at ease.

What do you think of this response?

"I am authorized by the state to carry, I have a gun to protect myself and my family. But also, I am legally allowed to protect you in case your life is in jeopardy. It's pretty cool that I can help you if you are in trouble too? Don't you agree?"

It should put them at ease and let them see us more as a protector than a predator. We need to let the public know of the benefits of citizens carry guns.

The OC guy calmly tells her "I'm authorized by the State to carry a weapon, and I do so for my protection, and yours if someone were to attack you".

Doooh, I just re-read some of the posts and see that Rugergirl already posted a similar response. So, she was first and it looks like I stole her reply, (sorry) and I have to say a like that response a lot!