Though he is waffling now, Bush, speaking through spokes-schmuck Ari Fleischer, wasted no time coming out against a national ballistic info database in the wake of the tragic shootings in the DC area. This idea has been proposed repeatedly, and except for the rabid pistol-packers at the NRA, few seem to oppose it. It would require manufacturers to test-fire all guns sold and keep a photographic record of the unique pattern all gun barrels leave on bullets fired from them and the shell casings which remain.
In the event of a crime, a recovered bullet or casing could be compared with the database for possible matches. These ballistic "fingerprints" are not perfect. They are not 100% reliable, as is the case with most forensic evidence, including DNA and actual fingerprints. But they can be used quite effectively to narrow the search from thousands or tens of thousands of guns down to hundreds or dozens of guns, and to narrow the locus of a search for point of origin. Would the ballistic imprint info of thousands of guns owned by law-abiding citizens be in the database? Yes. Just as the fingerprints of hundred of thousands of law-abiding citizens (including mine) are in a variety of law enforcement databases now. While the word "database" strikes fear into the hearts of many civil libertarians (including me at times) a database of weapon characteristics is a valuable resource. In the event of a crime, the ballistic characteristics of non-crime guns would be easily excluded by ballistic matching, just as my fingerprints don't trigger an investigation for a crime in which I am not involved.
I can't understand the position of the idiots in the White House on many issues, but this one is simply stupid. (Probably doesn't have anything to do with the $25k donation to Ashcroft's Senate campaign, the $400k spent supporting his campaign, nor the nearly $1 million spent supporting Dubya)
That great sucking sound you hear is Dubya servicing the NRA.
(Oh, and by the way, in case some of you don't know, I have been a handgunner since I was 18. I am a gun owner and a concealed handgun license holder. I also have no objections whatsoever to registering my guns in a national owners' database, a ballistics database or any other sort. I have a drivers' license and a registered motor vehicle; my car is only slightly more lethal than my pistol).
My good friend Brian, (college housemate and father of my god-daughter Carolyn) sent this to me yesterday, and it struck a chord. I added my own thoughts at the end and sent it back. I also decided to share it with you here.
How Did We Survive? Looking back, it's hard to believe that we have lived as long as we have.
As children, we would ride in cars with no seat belts or air bags. Riding in
the back of a pickup truck on a warm day was always a special treat. Our
baby cribs were covered with bright colored lead-based paint. We had no
childproof lids on medicine bottles, doors, or cabinets, and when we rode
our bikes, we had no helmets. (Not to mention hitchhiking to the ski area
as an 11 year old girl!)
We drank water from the garden hose and not from a bottle. We would
spend hours building our go-carts out of scraps and then rode down the
hill, only to find out we forgot the brakes. After running into the bushes a
few times we learned to solve the problem.
We would leave home in the morning and play all day, as long as we were
back when the streetlights came on. No one was able to reach us all day.
We played dodgeball and sometimes the ball would really hurt. We ate
cupcakes, bread and butter, and drank sugar soda but we were never
overweight.... we were always outside playing.
Little League had tryouts and not everyone made the team. Those who didn't
had to learn to deal with disappointment.....Some students weren't as smart
as others so they failed a grade and were held back to repeat the same grade.....
That generation produced some of the best risk-takers and problem solvers.
We had freedom, failure, success and responsibility, and we learned how to
deal with it all.
And you're one of them, congratulations!
Nice piece. Allow me to add my own thoughts on this topic near to my heart...
Our swing sets had exposed bolts and our slides had sharp edges. When
slides weren't slippery enough we slid down them on waxed paper. We played
on "monkey bars" or "jungle jims" at local schools, climbing to heights that
would make today's parents apoplectic. The ground beneath them was
blacktop, not pea gravel or rubberized "play surface." Sometimes we fell.
We usually got up.
Our parents who smoked cigarettes or drank alcohol generally did so through
pregnancies, and afterward, as we grew up in homes with second-hand smoke.
Despite the absence of pre-natal vitamins, and ignorance of what antibiotics
crossed the placental barrier, we grew and emerged relatively unscathed
after 9 months.
We learned to swim with a "Swim Buoy" strapped to our backs, a
football-shaped piece of Styrofoam (later inflatable, like a ball)
scientifically designed to hold a child face down in the water. Unless they
learned to swim upright. Most of us did. We climbed trees so high the
ground looked miles away. Sometimes we fell. A lot of us found out that
our teeth loosened or went through lower lips when that happened. We
learned that stitches hurt, but that scars were sort of cool.
Our toys had millions of small parts which periodically we swallowed. We
learned that all things, even marbles and Legos "shall pass in time..." We
learned that round was better than square in such cases. Our Lincoln Logs
and Tinker Toys were potential weapons and eye-pokers. Our model planes
and cars (put together with odoriferous glue) contained hundreds more small
parts. Our Erector Sets had edges sharp enough to shave with, long before
any of us shaved. The hands and feet came off our G.I. Joes. Our
Pick-Up-Sticks were long and pointed. Mousetrap had steel balls, our Hot
Wheels cars lost tires, and our Give-A-Show projector warmed up to
temperatures that approached that of the surface of the sun.
We learned that while "non-toxic" did not exactly mean "edible," that eating
Play-Doh or paste did not kill us. "This too shall pass." Our Jarts had
heavily weighted sharp points that made them stick in the lawn when we threw
them. Most of us learned to stay near the throwers. Dart catchers didn't
grow up.
Our lunchboxes (which also had sharp edges) had no refrigerant or "blue
ice." Even our Thermos didn't always keep milk really cold. But our
sandwich lasted till the noon hour, and ptomaine rarely reared its head.
The dent in the PB&J made by the apple Mom made us take was more of a
problem than freshness. Tuna salad was sometimes a little dicey.
We ate food prepared on wooden cutting boards rife with bacteria. Our
hamburgers were often rare, our hot dogs often raw, and so was our cookie
dough. We snuck extra Flintstone vitamins, St. Joseph's baby aspirin and
filled up on Pez, Pop-Tarts & Pixie Stix in case they weren't bad enough for
us. Most of us thrived anyway.
Were we safe? Hell no. We were kids.
I wouldn't trade one minute of those dangerous times.
