May 1996 Column: Wonderland

"The time has come," the Walrus said, "To talk of many things:
Of shoes-and ships-and sealing wax-Of cabbages-and kings-
And why the sea is boiling hot-and whether pigs have wings."

Good old Lewis Carroll has an appropriate quote for just about any 
circumstance; although many people know Alice and her Adventures (in 
Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass), it has recently occurred to 
me that he may rival Shakespeare for apt quotes for all occasions.
While I'll leave the knotty question of why the sea is boiling hot alone, I 
did have many things to talk to you about this month.
"Then you should say what you mean," said the March Hare.
By all means, please take a few minutes to fill out the survey that bisects 
this column. The more we know about you, the readers, the better able we 
are to produce a magazine that is of interest and use to you month after 
month. Since the questionnaire is anonymous, feel free to answer fully, 
and use the flap on the back for any comments. Just tear out the page, fold, 
seal, stamp and mail. In addition to helping direct this publication, your 
answers will serve to help me and Publisher Julianne Versnel Gottlieb 
when we speak to the general media.
W&G has done two other surveys, one in 1990 and one in 1993, so it will 
be interesting to see what's changed and what hasn't. 
Since this kind of survey is just that — an overview — rather than a 
scientific poll, we expect it only to bring our readership into focus a little 
more clearly. If you take seriously the generally accepted notion that there 
is a firearm in every other household in America  (and it isn't one that's 
debated much), it is pretty clear that most gunowners don't subscribe to 
any magazine on the subject, which is too bad. It's a fairly simple way of 
being counted in the "active" column, after all.
"And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!"
I'm not sure what that means, and Carroll's Jabberwocky has been subject 
to some fierce scrutiny over the years, but it seemed an appropriate way to 
lead into a few brief notes on the Handgun Control, Inc.-Rep. Charles 
Schumer-American Pediatrics Association Federal Trade Commission 
filing to halt handgun advertising.
If ever there were a "tulgey wood" it is Washington, DC in the very late 
20th Century. 
And there are plenty of Jabberwock about in the District of Columbia, all 
wiffling and burbling, too.
The premise of the FTC filing goes like this: ads for dangerous items are 
themselves a danger inasmuch as they entice consumers to purchase 
something dangerous which they wouldn't have done without seeing the 
ad—deep breath—and furthermore, the FTC should regulate "commercial 
speech" (as distinct from First Amendment "free speech") when it finds 
the object of the commercial speech so dangerous that the claims about it 
are in and of themselves dangerous.
Fair enough, you say, my beamish boy. If mustache-twirling sharpies 
could advertise hammers, as, say, a diet aid ("Simply hit yourself over the 
head until all thoughts of eating vanish!"), you might want to have 
someone step in and say, "Uh uh, boys, you can't make those kinds of 
outlandish claims." (On the other hand, you might want to just wait until 
all those chubby people take up the diet aid and march on the 
manufacturer's home office.)
You would want an FTC that says you have to disclose, in fairly big type, 
that your chocolate crunchy frogs are indeed made up of bone-in 
amphibians.
Taking a perfectly valid premise to its most absurd lengths, Sarah Brady, 
Charlie Schumer and a bunch of  doctors, finish the equation thus: Ads for 
handguns imply that they can be used as a self-defense tool, but because 
they can also be misused, any claim of the benefits of the product is 
outweighed by this. What particularly bothers these Jabberwocks is that 
the ads show the handguns out in the open in a variety of settings: next to 
a clock showing a late hour, near an open book, etc. And that this 
somehow indicates that the gun should be left lying around in these 
positions. Oh, yes, it also bothers them if the product is not shown at all, 
but instead, a mother putting her daughter to bed. And, they don't like it if 
you show a handgun lying on top of a map. This would probably be okay, 
these folks imply, if the disclaimer—the safety message on most handguns 
ads—weren't in such tiny type. 
Well, which is it? As an experiment in fairness, run to the freezer (I mean, 
walk at a sedate pace, not carrying scissors!) and pull out a package of fish 
sticks, or some such prepared frozen food. There will be a picture of the 
fish sticks, on a gleaming china plate, and nestled next to the fish will be a 
sprig of parsley. In teeny, weeny type, you will see the legend, "serving 
suggestion." This is a legal requirement designed to alert the savvy 
consumer that there is no parsley in the package—just fish sticks. I guess I 
don't have a big problem with that, although I would kind of wonder at 
anyone who thought a package containing a hunk of processed fish, frozen 
for months, could also contain a fresh-as-a-daisy piece of parsley as well. 
Maybe gun manufacturers should do likewise, as the alternative proposed 
would be to have a white piece of paper showing only a cardboard box 
that says "If you are a criminal or a fool, you could get into big trouble 
with what's inside here."
Actually, the proposal by HCI et al is quite simply to destroy gun 
ownership by destroying the means to communicate about them. 
Last month, when W&G was at the printers, all neatly "put to bed," we got 
wind of this outrage from   Nancy Ross, in Washington. Nancy went to the 
National Press Club and got to hear this nonsense live, filed her story with 
us, and let us do the hair-and-page ripping necessary to get the story in 
print sooner. Karen MacNutt weighs in on the topic with her column on 
Page 39, but I couldn't resist my own comments. This is a First 
Amendment issue, plain and simple. Rep. Schumer has admitted (boasted, 
actually) that it is a "second front" in gun control. Those of you familiar 
with the Jabberwocky know it has only one side, even if Alice thought it, 
like most of us, must have two. Out of power, the antis use only what is 
left—a regulatory agency controlled by an anti-gun executive—to do what 
they cannot do in this country's legislatures and opinion polls.
"Talking of axes," said the Duchess, "chop off her head."
In the Looking Glass world of publishing, it is not really the merry month 
of May as I write this, it is, instead, schizophrenic March. I look forward 
to May, not only to see if my tulip bulbs survived the most brutal winter I 
can remember, but also because by May, some of the rhetoric, which gets 
ratcheted up during presidential election years, will have cooled.
And I like politics, believing it to be the world's best sport for both 
spectators and participants.
There has been much written lately about the lack of civility in civil 
discourse. Some of this is akin to a child running to Momma to complain 
that other children are "mean to me." Kids can indeed be mean and wound 
the pride and feelings of their fellows. Language is important—it is the 
sticks and stones of life. I'm not above a little name calling myself, as the 
preceding paragraphs attest.
But, I think when the language gets too hot, too absurd, too dangerous, we 
must pull up sharply and demand an explanation.
In early February, Larry Pratt, executive director of Gun Owners of 
America, was called some pretty hot, absurd and dangerous things. 
Pratt was forced to defend his honor and his sensibilities, to say he was 
not a racist and to explain why he wasn't. In deciding to label someone 
with such a vile epithet, we should look to actions and languages. I am 
sure I could find things to disagree with Larry Pratt on, but not his whole 
hearted commitment to firearms civil rights. I don't know him well, but in 
the 15 years I've been acquainted with him, I've never seen words or 
deeds that suggest he is a racist.
What offended the Duchesses of Washington's media, was that Pratt had 
spoken out on the Ruby Ridge disaster at a public forum that included 
people also appalled at the death of Vicki Weaver, even if they  were 
racists.
That type of guilt by association is the most dangerous limit on free 
speech I can think of. By implication, anyone who speaks to a group that 
contains even one person who the rest of us rightly deplore, is just as 
guilty of deplorable actions.
As someone who has probably, in the 15 years I've been involved in the 
gun rights movement, talked to a racist, a criminal, etc., I deeply resent the 
implied logic that I am also a criminal or a racist.
Charles Dodgson, a mathematician, who became Lewis Carroll, would 
find that sort of speciousness, "curiouser and curiouser."
I heard James Valentino, president of the Illinois State Rifle Assocition 
(ISRA), use a particularly apt analogy when introducing Pratt at a press 
conference. 
Education on the issue is one of our main goals, said Valentino. And, he 
continued, he often spoke to disparate groups when trying to explain 
firearms rights.
"I have spoken to the League of Women Voters," said Valentino, "but I 
assure you, that doesn't make me a woman voter."
If the general media thinks all gunowners, or even all people concerned 
about the disposition of authority by federal law enforcement are racists, 
they should say so, directly, and not smear one representative. And they 
should be able to prove it.
"The further off from England, the nearer is to France."
It was my pleasure recently to speak at the ISRA  members banquet that 
was part of the group's annual convention.
I was struck again that we gunowners are at once a disparate and 
homogenous group.
Much as a Western New Yorker like myself might try to distance hereself 
from the excessess of New York City and environs, especially when it 
comes to that area's penchant for gun control, most of the Illinoisans were 
quick to point out that they were not from "Chicagoland."
The 300-plus people that attended the dinner were, indeed, a banquet. 
People from different parts of a big state (even Chicagoland) and from 
different walks of life—if you didn't know they were all gunowners, you 
might not have been able to figure out what they had in common.
My thanks, especially to Director Lois Burr who invited me originally and 
to Jim and Pat Valentino, and the rest of the ISRA folks. And my best 
wishes to a terrific group of women who make up the Illinois State Pistol 
Team (hope I win the raffle, ladies.)

"Tut tut, child," said the Duchess, "Everything's got a moral if only you 
can find it."
Peggy Tartaro,
Executive Editor