From Slate (via Insty):
Ricardo had me watch a short film as part of my gun-safety training, and in it the narrator explained that guns are simply machines. Machines can’t hurt you, he said; the danger lies in the person operating the machine. OK, I thought, but if I am inept in the handling of my blow-dryer, I am unlikely to vaporize anyone’s kidney. As he went through his safety lectures, Ricardo emphasized which firearms would be best for my “personal protection,” even though as a District resident this was virtually out of the question, and even though I assured him that no one was after me. Undeterred, his top recommendation was a pump-action shotgun. “Nothing else makes that sound,” he said, and even I could conjure up that ka-chung. “Hearing that sound alone can negate the need to fire. It makes such a sweet song.”
Space Bunny will dig this. We took one of her very liberal friends to shoot, who very much enjoyed the experience. I’ve taught a few girls how to shoot, and it’s always amusing to see the wild-eyed, vaguely turned-on expression that they get afterwards. With one exception, Chilliette was crying her eyes out the entire time; she was scared to death of this .50 caliber Desert Eagle a guy three lanes down was shooting. Echoing off the concret, the thing sounded like large-bore artillery fire.