Back in the mid-1960s, one of my guitar pupils was an ex-Marine who had developed a taste for competitive target shooting. I joined him frequently at a local shooting range where we burnt a lot of ammo and poked a lot of holes in paper.

But he began taking on some of the characteristics of a real gun-nut. He had a concealed weapons permit and he carried a Colt .45 automatic. On a couple of occasions, he almost DID it.

One time a friend was coming to visit. The friend knew that—let's call him "Larry"—and his wife were out, but would be back soon, so he parked near their place and waited. When he saw their car pull up, he got out and walked over to it.

Larry caught a glimpse of someone approaching his car in the rear-view mirror, and in a flash, he was out of the car, crouching, and holding the .45 in a two-handed combat grip, with the sights on the friend's chest.

He just about shat a yellow brick when he realized what he'd almost done.

It was Larry's wife who told me about it. It scared the hell out of her too.

On another occasion, he though he was assisting the police who were trying to apprehend a couple of people who were trying to drive away after dinging a parked car. Once again, Larry hauled out his trusty hawg-leg, stepped out in front of the couple's car, dropped into a crouch, and pointed the cannon at their windshield in a two-handed combat hold.

The police arrested the couple. AND Larry. The judge confiscated his beloved .45 auto and rescinded his concealed weapons permit—and gave him on helluva dressing down in the courtroom. What the police were trying to apprehend the couple for was nowhere near serious enough to warrant the use of lethal force. If Larry had shot someone in that situation, HE would have been the one facing a prison sentence or worse.

Larry's trouble—and that of a number of people I've met who are gung-ho about "packing heat"—and, I am sure, Trayvon Martin's killer as well—is that since they have the gun, they want to SHOOT someone!

Under Larry's influence, I got a concealed weapons permit and carried a tidy little .380 cal. Walther PPK (James Bond handgun), but I've long since let the permit lapse, and the pistol itself is safely stashed away.

What mg seemed to be envisioning—as do a number of people, many of whom advocate going armed—is that if you find yourself in a situation such as that in the Seattle coffee shop, you can stop the killers in their tracks by drawing your trusty boom-boom, and taking them out with a few well-placed shots.

Looks good in a TV drama, but in real life it's likely to get even more people shot.

Not that many people are trained in matters of combat shooting and are more likely to add to the mayhem, or of shooting off one of their own toes than they are of stopping someone on a shooting rampage.

Don Firth