Trask Avenue

Yesterday Texas slipped further back into its wild, wild west fantasies. A flurry of laws went into effect which make the Lone Star State a fascinating and depressing petri dish of individual liberty and systematic repression. The ever-shifting Texan ground is fertile for commentary. Today let’s focus on House Bill 1927.

House Bill 1927, named for the last year when all was right with America dammit, allows most Texans to carry a handgun without first securing a permit. Before you get all indignant, keep in mind the Texas legislature is a reasonable body comprised of rational people making common-sense laws. For example, anyone convicted of a felony or domestic violence will still need that permit. Sensible, right? You should feel ashamed for scoffing at the notion the Texas legislature is anything other than reasonable.

Assuming you are without conviction, you are now free to carry your gun as you please. You can mosey down the street and play cowboy without needing a stupid piece of paper from a stupid bureaucratic hack trying to enforce stupid commie rules. This is progress. Yet Texas is not yet where it needs to be. Back in the good old days *every* cowboy, regardless of criminal history, could carry a peacemaker. Until everyone can freely pack their hand cannon of choice, work remains to be done. But rest assured, pardner. Frontier justice is coming.

Tailgate parties at AT&T Stadium will certainly get more interesting. Not to worry, though. Folks who need to arm themselves against imminent threats while roasting a whole pig tend to be super responsible. Besides what can go wrong when you mix beer, firepits, and unfettered sidearms with drunk people who paint their bodies blue and silver? That’s right, nothing. If someone gets fueled by a bit too much liberty and starts waving their piece around, they’ll have to deal with the other patriots donned in oversized Styrofoam hats and stars and stripes muscle tees stretched like lycra on an elephant. The important thing for everyone to remember between bites of brisket is to shoot first.

American citizens who happen to be of Mexican descent should probably rethink their plans for taking nightly strolls along the Rio Grande. You never know when some real American may mistake you for an actual foreign illegal Covid-infected drug mule. Those evening walks should now come with a warning, much like an approaching hurricane. “Hurricane Bubba is intensifying near El Paso. Stay sheltered.” The problem is hurricanes come in batches of one and can be easily labeled. How can you possibly name thousands of storms simultaneously sweeping in with righteous retribution and beef jerky breath? You can’t call them all Bubba. That would be too confusing.

Spring breakers on South Padre Island should also tread lightly. One undeniable truth is that you need to remain focused in 2021 Texas. Always. All those raging hormones can be distracting. A misheard word or mildly provocative suggestion may bring with it more than a non-committal roll in the dunes. Who knows what that lil’ lady totes in her bikini or what some other testosterone fueled bro carries in his speedo. Actually, the assumption that a young adult may prematurely jump to certain conclusions is harsh and unfair. We all know if college kids are famous for one thing, it’s sound judgement.

Folks in San Antonio, indeed across the entire state, are ecstatic because “Remember the Alamo!” will get a new life. It is never too late to enact justice for past ass-whuppings. Sure, General Santa Anna is long dead and the Alamo is comfortably in Texan hands. That doesn’t diminish the need for continued vigilance. A little display of roscoe power surely can’t hurt. Of course, most Texans at the Alamo died. Never mind that. Freedom comes at a price, as long as someone else pays it.

Thanks to House Bill 1927, passed by the reasonable Texas legislature comprised of rational people making common-sense laws, the good folks south of the Red River can spray freedom’s essence across their big state with the efficiency of a Ruger GP100 .357 Magnum. It also makes being a Texan politician extra intriguing. Naturally, as a politico the goal is to stay in the good graces of your followers and hold onto to whatever votes are allowed. With all these red, white, and blue sidearms blocking site lines, maintaining loyalty can be challenging. You can’t piss off your mob. That’s obvious. They got guns. But what about the other mobs, the ones not drooling at your politically expedient positions? They got guns too. Who should a defender of a few specific constitutional amendments align with? The angry mob with the red hats? The angry mob of hard-working ruffnecks? The angry mob with a latte in one hand and a Smith & Wesson in the other? The angry mob from Piney Woods or the one from Big Bend? It is baffling, what with the unregulated ease these mobs can arm themselves. Texas’ elected officials need to be like Fred Astaire dancing across a minefield, soft shoeing their way around hardened beliefs and itchy trigger fingers. Or in terms they might find easier to understand, it becomes trickier than line dancing on a bourbon-soaked floor after midnight.