This article should be entitled “Big Pussy Quivers at Little Gun.” A New York Daily Snooze columnist aptly named Gersh Kuntzman (yes, I’m giggling like a juvenile at his name) recently tried firing an AR-15, because, you know… he wanted to feel like he was doing something after the shootings in Orlando. I would applaud him for trying to learn to defend himself with the most effective tool available on the market today, if it was, in fact, what he was doing, rather than trying to write an article about how horrible and easy to obtain this rifle is.
It feels like a bazooka — and sounds like a cannon.
One day after 49 people were killed in the Orlando shooting, I traveled to Philadelphia to better understand the firepower of military-style assault weapons and, hopefully, explain their appeal to gun lovers.
But mostly, I was just terrified.
Not in my hands. I’ve shot pistols before, but never something like an AR-15. Squeeze lightly on the trigger and the resulting explosion of firepower is humbling and deafening (even with ear protection).
The recoil bruised my shoulder. The brass shell casings disoriented me as they flew past my face. The smell of sulfur and destruction made me sick. The explosions — loud like a bomb — gave me a temporary case of PTSD. For at least an hour after firing the gun just a few times, I was anxious and irritable.
Poor baby. One has to wonder how delicate are his lilac scented labia if he loses bladder control while shooting a varmint rifle. And yes, that’s what it is. To confirm, my characterization, I pinged Ted Nugent, who knows infinitely more about firearms than a newspaper columnist, and who said I was absolutely correct.
One has to wonder, as my friend Jaime notes, if he seated the rifle in his gaping vagina, as it appears to contain enough sand to provide the stability he needed.
A “temporary case of PTSD,” this douche pickle says! Really? Spoken like a spoiled, brandy sipping, clap-infected walking testicle who never bothered to talk to real warriors who came home with real post traumatic stress after seeing and dealing with things this sniveling cock rocket only sees in the movies!
“The recoil bruised my shoulder.” I think you misspelled “vagina” there, Sparky. And this is not meant to offend the numerous vagina-bearers (myself included) who could outshoot and outclass this whining cunt without effort.
By the way, Kuntzman, my daughter has been shooting guns with much more recoil since she was 10 years old, and she thinks you’re a gaping twat, as does my son, who just arrived at Army Basic Training.
Oh, and the whining gun grabbers at Rolling Stone also have you beat in the testicle department. They acknowledge the semi-automatic rifle has nominal recoil, which, along with its ease of use, contributes to its popularity.
Fact is, you sniveling, pusillanimous pustule, that this rifle is a semi-automatic. It doesn’t “spray” anything. It fires one round every time the shooter pulls the trigger, which is no different than a normal handgun, and the speed with which it fires depends entirely on the skill of the person who holds it.
It’s only cavernous, oozing snatches like you, who want to exaggerate and make it seem more deadly, more dangerous, and more horrifying than it is in a pathetic and transparent effort to promote its ban.
And to that effort, and to you, I say “get bent.”