"The Shortest Measurable Unit of Time."

It used the be that the shortest measurable unit of time was called a "Planck."  The scientists tell us that a "Planck" is the amount of time it takes for light to travel a "Planck's length" across one "Fermi," which is just about the size of a nucleon, in a vacuum.

That's like one millionth of a second.  Or something.  And a nucleon is, ummm, like really, really small!  Thank God for scientists.  Otherwise, who would make up this stuff?

Quicker than that, even, I, your loyal scribe, the graying Yoda you look to for inside information about esoteric effluvia, the flotsam and jetsam of modern life so important to those who actually care about such stuff, now report to you, is called the "Taxi."  That's the time it takes for the taxi behind you at a stop light in mid-town Manhattan to blow its horn once the traffic light in front of you has changed.  We're talking the blink of the proverbial eye here, folks! 

By the way, I just made that up.  Don't thank me.  It's why God put me here.  But hey, it makes sense, doesn't it?

But far and away the absolute quickest measurement of time these days is now called a "Gunny."  I know, because I just made that up as well.  That's the time it takes for some Left-wing jackass in Congress (a little less than half of them), or a late-night "comic" on TV (aren't they supposed to be funny?), or perhaps a room temperature-I.Q. actor or actress (isn't that just about all of them?) who fires up his/her/its Twitter-er-er thingie and proceeds to make a complete fool of him/her/itself following a tragic shooting.  

We have to add the "itself" here in California as so very many of my fellow residents are of confused sexuality.

So here's the scenario.  Some deranged bozo, looking to go out in a blaze of glory, and take a lot of innocent folks with him, or some jihadist Muslim deranged thug killer, looking to score those mythical 72 virgins, shoots up some place, kills far too many, and leaves lots of blood and carnage in his wake.  And usually he either kills himself when the cops burst through the door, or forces the cops to shoot him instead.  That last solution is called "suicide by cop," by the way.

And then, while the acrid smell of gunpowder and smoke is still hanging in the air like a hovering evil specter, the echo of the shots that just rang out still reverberating around the place like BB's in a boxcar, some Lefty TV talking head, or hipppmotizzzed Hollyweird actor, or an "inside the Beltway" lobbyist, or Democrat pol looking to whip up the crowd of fawning sycophants to help fan his reelection flames, will run, not walk, to the nearest microphone and begin babbling some incoherent condemnation of guns, gun owners, ammunition, country music-lovers, flags, pickup trucks, hot dogs, fireworks, anthems, beer and Republicans.  Oh yeah, and Global Warming. 

Yes, I know, another long sentence.  But hey, you understood what I was trying to say, didn't you?  And it's my blog so I can do anything I want, right?  If I like long sentences I can use them, right?  All you have to do is read it, right?  And you can't beat the price, right?

They will rail, they will shout, they will blame, they will shake their fists in anger, they will jump up and down.  They will demand, demand that we "do something, do anything" about the "lax" gun laws so as to prevent a recurrence of the latest tragedy.  Of course, if you ask them exactly which new law they would propose that would prevent another such shooting, they routinely come up short.  Their eyes glaze over.  They begin to mumble incoherently.  They can't name a single one.  Not a law can they come up with to prevent what this crazy fool in Vegas did recently.  And, with exception of Islamic religious killings, none of the other mass shootings we've been forced to live through of late, either.

Need proof?  Check out what Sen. Lady "Di" Feinstein had to say on "Face the Nation"last Sunday.  She, the woman who came up with the term "assault rifle" back in 1992 when she and her boss Billy Jeff "Blue Dress" Clinton were looking to ban all those black, evil-looking military-style but completely safe civilian rifles.  She, when asked if there was a prospective law that would have made the Vegas Massacre not happen, calmly said, "No!"  

So what do they want?  They demand GUN CONTROL!  Lots of it!  Gimme' some more of that GUN CONTROL, they shout!  Impose "Universal Background Checks!" (Hello Democrats!  We've had Federal background checks for all gun purchases since 1998!).  And close the so-called "Gun Show Loophole!" (No such thing!  All guns purchased legally, no matter where, including at a gun show, must be preceded by a Federal background check!).   And make the waiting period before citizens can buy a gun much, much longer! (You might be wishing to murder your probably abused wife so we can't let you have that gun you just purchased for a week or so!).  And declare the National Rifle Association, the oldest public-benefit charitable organization in the entire U.S., with more than 5 million dues-paying citizens like you and me, or at least, me, as a "terrorist organization" (thank you Keith Olbermann...you were, are, and always will be a world-class, totally worthless, boil-on-the-butt-of-humanity, jerk).  

But when reminded that Chicago, which has the very most stringent gun laws in the entire Untied States, and that they lose an average of about the same number of victims to gun crimes every month as died during that fateful concert in Las Vegas, they usually change the subject, or begin waving their arms and shouting in anger, or start to stutter uncontrollably, or accuse the questioner of being a "tool of the NRA," or a bloodthirsty Republican who doesn't care who dies at the barrel of a gun.  

But to sidestep the almost overwhelming urge to pontificate endlessly on this topic about which I know so very, very much, I will close with this:  If you're a Liberal Democrat Progressive-type, gun-hating, politically-correct, Social Justice Warrior, you'll advocate for total disarmament of the 'Murican people at the earliest possible occasion.  And if you're a red-blooded, God-fearing, bourbon-swilling, flag-waving, self-reliant, patriotic Son of Liberty, you'll wish all the panty-waisted, limp-wristed weenies to leave you and your guns alone, today, tomorrow and forever.  Strong letter to follow...

Moral of the Story:  If even 5% of ducks were armed, do you think anyone would go duck hunting?