BEST OF STUPID HEADLINES for 2012

After 15 minutes of careful consideration I submit the best of

STUPID HEADLINES for 2012

 

 

 

These are Cranky's best headlines with my stupidier, sophmoric and sometimes offensive comments.  If you think these are bad, you see the ones I discarded!

 

 

Egyptian Court Bans Military 'Virginity Tests' on Female Detainees – Egyptian Military no longer able to ask female detainees, “Do you know what a virgin is?”

One Million Moms to JC Penney: fire Ellen, she's gay – Ellen to one million moms:  Fuck you, I’m rich!

Some blacks insist: 'I'm not African-American' – They now insist on being referred to as “Not-a-cracker-American”

Family asks judge to order Massachusetts school district to remove 'under God' from Pledge of Allegiance – Family also requests that the word DOG never be displayed in front of a mirror.

What sank the Titanic? Scientists point to the moon – It was an iceberg…did they even see the movie?

William Ayers: 'I get up every morning thinking ... today I'm gonna end capitalism' – “But then I get a headache trying to figure out how to price all that shit.”

Police: US Virgin Islands mother had week-old baby girl zipped up in her purse while driving – “Hmmm driver’s license, driver’s license…I know it’s in here…OH here, right under the baby.”

Sarkozy dangles "empty chair" threat over Europe – Ooooh Europe is sooo scared.  An empty chair….Ooooh!

Does the G-spot exist? New study fuels debate – Experts claim it is right between the F-spot and the H-spot, but for some unknown reason men cannot find it.

Ohio man was making meth inside Walmart, police say – Police also claim the man wath trying to thteal lotth of thtuff and refuthed to clean up hith meth.

World awaits latest in hunt for Higgs particle – Scientist’s search includes chant, “Saint Anthony, Saint Anthony please come around; something is lost and needs to be found.”

Pakistan shuns physicist linked to 'God particle' because of religious beliefs - Country demands the scientific discovery be named the “Allah Thingy.”

Scientists may have found the secret to a male birth control pill – Pill makes most women look like Justin Beiber.

Baby born in plane toilet named after Emirates Airline – The other choice was “American Standard.”

Mars Curiosity rover stops sampling to check out shiny object seen on surface – NASA’s robot falls for the old Martian ring on a string gag!

 

WALKING ON EGG SHELLS - a cranky re-run

A Cranky reminder that the New Year can be the start of better things, especially for those that are:

WALKING ON EGG SHELLS (From December 2011)

When you hear stories of spousal abuse, people often think, why would you stay so long with such a person?  As a man I think I used to have these thoughts more than I suspect would most women, until I realized I was myself a victim of spousal abuse.  I won’t say which of my ex-wives was the abuser; if you know one of my exes, and this accusation surprises you, then know it is the other ex-wife.  

My wife did not physically abuse me, although if she was capable she would have.  There were many occasions where I fended off her feeble attempts to punch or kick me.  Her abuse was mental.  The difficult thing about abuse is often, and this was the case for me, the abuser is sweet, loving, charming and just fun to be with 85% of the time.  The other 15% she is an “Exorcist” like demon with a violent temper and vile nature so unlike the person you love, that it shocks you every time it appears.   

I never knew what would set off one of her tirades.  The cute little thing I did last week when I channel surfed right over her favorite movie made me a “fucking asshole piece of uncaring selfish shit” today.

No amount of my apologies would right a wrong, and later when she was “normal” again she would never address her insanity.  (She did once say to me, “It isn’t easy living in this head.”) 

After one of her explosions her mind would stay firmly locked onto my perceived miscue and was ready to bring it up again and again during future tirades. 

My favorite accusation was, “You don’t love me as much as I love you!” 

Always, there was the threat of divorce.

When I came home from work, I never knew who would greet me.  Most times it was Donna Reed.  Sometimes it was SATAN.  Anything could set off a tirade at any time. 

Living in my house was like walking on egg shells.

I often thought, “If only I hadn’t done this or if only something unforeseen hadn’t happened.”  The truth is when she was ready to explode, she would find something.  I think she even may have planted things to use when the “curse” hit her.

Some years ago, she left me for an old fiancé, a past lover, the Mr. Big to her Carrie.  It was not until then that I could step back and look objectively at our relationship, and realize that I was in fact abused.  It is not an easy admission for a man to make.  It is difficult to admit you put up with absurd temper tantrums when you probably should have shaken her and yelled, “Shut the fuck up you crazy bitch!” 

Of course in the eyes of the law and in public opinion, that would have made me the abuser and I would have lost everything; everything, but my own self-respect.

It took her adultery, and my being thrown out of my own house in one of her final fits of uncontrollable, irrational temper, for me to realize that I had been a victim of abuse for some 14 years.

It took me several years and the subsequent love of a sane woman for me to come to grips with the fact that my ex-wife was in fact…er…let’s say unstable and our separation and divorce was a God send.  If I had remained married after my retirement and forced to stay home 24/7, I doubt very much I could have survived her abuse.   My escape from her tantrums, heavy smoking and heavy drinking, would probably have killed me.

Mental illness is insidious.  It not only affects the life of the afflicted, but it turns upside down the life of everyone connected to that person.  Fortunately I am now out of that insanity.

I have been with Mrs. C for over three years now and we have not had a single argument.  Oh there has been a couple (maybe) of “discussions” and an occasional harsh word (although I can’t really think of one), but nothing even close to approaching the intense insanity of my previous relationship. 

I am now in a relationship based on trust and love, a relationship where I don’t need to filter my every thought, where I am allowed to make a mistake, and where I can be myself.  It is being in such a relationship that I realize…I used to walk on egg shells.   

JOINING THE MILE HIGH CLUB - a risque re-run

JOINING THE MILE HIGH CLUB (from December 2012)

 

On the flight home from our recent vacation in Barbados, I joined a club I never thought I would have the nerve to join.  A mile above the ocean, I decided to go for it.  Mrs. Cranky gave me a knowing coquettish glance and I returned the look.

I bent down, undid my zipper and pulled out my tool.  It need turning on, but after just a short while I was all warmed up.  The passengers on the plane seemed to not notice or care as my fingers began to move sensuously.  Slowly at first, but soon I was pounding away, without a care about what the other passengers thought.  

As I got into it, the fact that I was on an airplane with 150 strangers did not bother me at all.  I kept at it with increased fervor until finally I was finished.  Mrs. Cranky looked at me when I was done and asked, “Was it good?”  “Not bad for the first time” I replied.

The task completed, I closed up my laptop, replaced it in its case and zipped it back up again.  One mile above the ocean, traveling more than four hundred miles an hour I had completed my first in air blog. 

At last, I am a member of the blogging mile high club.

WHEN I BECOME FAMOUS - A cranky re-run

WHEN I BECOME FAMOUS (From December 2011)

 

This holiday season I saw numerous products sold by famous people.  What does Justin Bieber know about scents? What does Kim Kardashian know about fashion?  Did these people go to fashion school; did they go to “Smelling-good” university?  I think they only sell stuff because they are famous.  It made me think, what will I sell in case I ever become famous?

  Here are my ideas:

OLD SPICEY DUDE – A cologne for cranky old men - A musty, dusty, smell with a hint of grandma’s parlor, old cigars and a touch of gas.

CRANKY TEE SHIRTS – A collection of loosely fitted sleeveless white tee shirts with cranky old man sayings in blurry print:

            “Help, I’ve fallen and I forget which way is up!”

            “I coulda kicked your ass 20 years ago!”

            “I am lost, please return me to a rich young lady with big hooters”

CRANKY BIG FOAM FINGER – Never mind the “we’re #1”; this large foam middle digit lets you flip the bird even with arthritic hands.

A COMB-OVER TOUPEE – For old geezers that want to look younger, but still fit in with their crowd.

CRANKY OLD DUDE BOARD GAME - Choose your token piece; a walker, a pair of shoes with the laces tied together, or a Li’l Rascal scooter.  Roll the die to see who can advance 20 squares and go from your bed to the TV in the den.  Watch out for road blocks!  “You hit a shag carpet, lose a turn” or “You crapped your drawers, go to the John, do not pass the handicapped ramp; do not collect your SS check.

These are just a few of my ideas to strike it rich.  All I need is fame and an agent!      

GET A LIFE!

GET A LIFE! (From December 2011)

(OR SHUT THE F*CK UP)

 

My plan was no posts until next year...turns out I'm addicted, so as a compromise there will be only re-runs until next year.

This may pee a few people off, but what the heck, the beauty of being old is not having the time to give a shit.

Several things happened this last week that make me want to just scream, “SHUT THE FUCK UP!”

Some people just look for shit to happen so they can wave a flag and say “Look at me, I’ve got an agenda and I’m not afraid to raise a stink about something to push it.”

POR EXEMPLUM: (What you never took Latin?)

A lady in my town posted on Facebook an open letter to the police about the horrible traffic problem in town and how she is afraid to cross Main Street with her children (future blog on this is in the hopper.)  She asserts she has almost been KILLED twice by careless drivers. 

Why do I suspect she has an agenda and is looking for attention?  She posted a picture of her son crossing the street.  Her son was wearing a yellow traffic vest and an orange traffic cone hat.  Apparently this is how he is always dresses when going downtown to cross Main Street!

Main Street in Metuchen, NJ is perfectly safe to cross if you just watch where you are going.  Cars cannot travel any faster than 10 MPH down Main Street. 

SHUT THE FUCK UP!! 

The news recently reported that a Woman traveling from Las Vegas to Boston had a TSA agent take away a cupcake as the frosting was a potential explosive (future blog in this subject is in the hopper.) How did the news hear about this “major” incident?  Did the TSA overreact?  Probably.  Is this lady making a big deal about a lousy cupcake? I would have just laughed it off; she goes to the press, who loves to pick on airport security, and she acts like she was horribly victimized.  This is not Iran.  They did not strip search and beat you.  They took away a cupcake. 

SHUT THE FUCK UP!!

Today I read an article about a woman being told to not breast feed at a Washington DC Motor Vehicle station.  Personally I don’t care if someone breast feeds in front of me, I seldom give more than a passing two or three minute glance.  However, some women are just asking for a scene.  They could go to a corner of the room, turn their back and discreetly feed their baby (sometimes a three year old toddler).  Instead in the name of “What is the big deal it is perfectly natural”, they open up without warning in the middle of a crowd just asking for someone to say something. 

You know what?  Peeing is perfectly natural, but if I’m in a car and I have to go, if there is no rest stop available, I pull over and hide behind a tree.  I don’t stand in the middle of the road, pee, and yell at passerbies, “What you never saw someone pee before?  It’s natural you know!” 

SHUT THE FUCK UP!!

Finally what is with those clowns wearing shirts that say stuff like “This is my drinking shirt?”  When you take the time to read what the shirt says, these morons give you shit, “Yo what the fuck you staring at?” 

Listen jerkweed, if you don’t want people staring at your shirt, don’t wear a shirt that says stuff! 

“Here, look at my shirt, it says:

 SHUT THE FUCK UP!!”    

CRANKY’s POEM OF CHRISTMAS EVES PAST

CRANKY’s POEM OF CHRISTMAS EVES PAST

Another Cranky re-run

‘Twas the night before Christmas

In my little house

I tried to play Santa

Though I was half soused

The children were sleeping

Content they’d not sinned

They had not a clue

Dad was three sheets to the wind

Trying to construct

A bike or a plane

While being half toasted

Was simply insane

There was no excuse

For my sorry condition

But getting bombed on this night

Was my Christmas tradition

On Lancer’s on Gray Goose

On Dewars I’m sippin

Screw Rudolph and Donnar

I’m getting Blitzen

The presents were laid out

The stockings filled in a hurry

I staggered upstairs

With sight that was blurry

The children awoke

And jumped on our bed

In their excitement

They didn’t care of my head

Down the stairs 

To the tree they did run

The presents; the stockings

Were nothing but fun

The children were happy

They were all in high clover

Merry Christmas to all

And to Dad a hangover

The new, improved, sober Cranky say's drink responsibly, and if you must drink...don't wrap presents!!

MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYBODY!! - I'll be back next year.

STUPID HEADLINES 122312

STUPID HEADLINES 122312

Sunday is time again for stupid headlines and Cranky's stupider (I know it's not really a word), sophmoric and sometimes offensive comments.

By 2018, computers will touch, see, hear, taste and smell – Seems to me that’s getting a bit too “Personal!”

OR

“Damn, now I have to shower, shave and brush my teeth before I check email!”

 

Australian woman gets workers' comp for sex-related injury during business trip – Court ruled that her “business” was none of our business.  Damn I love the Aussies!

Texas cop hands out ticket—and $100 bill – Is Texas a great state or what?

Sinful Robot developing fully-immersive virtual reality sex game - I thought “Pong” was cool!

Obese killer on death row pardoned by Ohio governor – Instead of “The Chair” for the killer’s penalty, he will be surrounded by fellow inmates who chant “Fat, fat the water rat” for 15 minutes every day.

Giving breasts a squeeze could hinder cancer growth – That is what I used to tell my dates, but they just thought I was creepy!

Texas lawmaker: ‘Ping-pongs’ deadlier than guns – Well then lets regulate Ping-Pong too!

Thieves Arrested After Stealing 6 Million Pounds of Maple Syrup – Surrounded, the panicky thieves managed to flush 2000 pounds down the toilet before the police broke in.

Potentially habitable planet just 12 light-years away – Well, that would be 70,388,400,000,000 miles so I think I’ll wait till they know for sure.

Magic Mushrooms May Explain Santa & His 'Flying' Reindeer – O   K   or maybe…it’s just a fun myth we tell children…shhh.

In rare natural event, mother right whale adopts orphaned calf – No stupid comment here, this is just a really cool story…check it out!

 

Gotcha, Oops I’m Sorry

Gotcha, Oops I’m Sorry

 

My son, Matt, is a practical joker.  This Wednesday when I went to his home to toddler sit, he handed me a lottery ticket and a quarter as a scratch off tool.

“Here, this was supposed to be in your Christmas card” and he waited for me to scratch it off.  Instead I just said thanks and put it in my pocket for later.

When later came, Matt and Devon were upstairs putting the kids to bed.  I pulled out the ticket and started to scratch.  There were five Christmas trees to remove and reveal a dollar amount.  Match three dollar amounts and you are a winner.

I scratched off a $25, then a $10,000.  Damn, I was hoping for another $25 because no one ever wins $10,000.  I scratched off a $35, and another $10,000.  I scratched off the final tree knowing I had a loser and it came up $10,000.  I looked at it three times.  I think I just won $10,000, but I am always skeptical about stuff like this.

I went upstairs saying to myself, “I think I just won $10,000…this is very cool.  I can get Matt a giant TV for their new finished basement.  Mary Beth could use a grand, so could Mike.  I’ll put $1000 in Spencer’s college account, something for the step-cranks and Mrs. Cranky and I will be off to Aruba this February!”  I showed the ticket to Devon.

“Devon, tell me why I didn’t just win a bunch of money.”

Devon looked at the ticket.  “Oh my gosh…Matt look at this!”

Matt looked at the ticket.  “What does it say on the back?”

“I don’t know, even with glasses I can’t read the fine print.  You tell me.”

“Hmmm…it says if you match $1000 or less, bring the ticket to any Pa. Lottery Department for collection.  If your ticket say’s you have won  $10,000 jump up and down and yell yippee, then rip it up because this ticket was bought at 'Frank’s Gift and Novelty Shop' and you have been had!”

Well I was skeptical at first…but I was still disappointed.  It would have been so cool to win some “go crazy money” and I was looking forward to sharing the wealth; a Christmas to remember.  For years everyone would say, “Remember when Dad won the $10,000.”  It would have become part of Hagy lore.

Instead I laughed thinly and said, “Damn Matt, you got me good with that!”

Matt’s laugh was less robust than with his usual practical jokes. 

I really was not terribly upset that it was a joke, but there still must have been a pretty strong look of disappointment on my face.  Matt had expected me to do the scratch off in his presence so he could reveal the joke before I had spent the money in my head.

The next morning he told me he felt so bad about the joke that he couldn’t sleep.

GOOD!! Serves him right.

Shit…he can go buy his own TV!!

 

By the way Matt, I have a blog and I am not afraid to use it!

Oh Cranky Tree, Oh Cranky Tree

Oh Christmas Tree, Oh Christmas Tree

 

Mrs. C and I will not have a Christmas Tree in our house this year.  Oh I still love Christmas Trees.  For me they officially start the season.  I guess we are getting just old enough where we can start the season with other people’s trees.  I have gone through the Christmas tree evolution. It starts with enthusiastically picking and decorating a tree every year, and ends with throwing an ornament on a ficus plant and calling it a day.

When I was a young man, and the children of the house demanded a tree, getting the tree was a tradition and a production.  In the earliest years, we bought a cut tree from the mall parking lot.  Size was of utmost importance, a seven foot tree was the goal.  The branches had to be of perfect length and shape, and there must not be any bare spots.  Finding this perfect tree often took well over an hour.

Once chosen, it was another production putting the tree up.   It seems it went in the same room every year, but only after trying it out in several other rooms first.  Getting the tree to stand perfectly straight was near impossible as any bend in the trunk would throw it off straight from at least one view point.

Finally after decorating the tree it’s beauty could be enjoyed…until the needles began their inevitable decent to the floor as no matter how much it was watered, even with the fresh cut to the bottom and a daily dose of aspirin the tree was nearly bare of needles by Three Kings Day when decorations come down.

One year my wife had the brilliant idea of using a live tree.  A local tree farm would sell live trees for the price of a cut tree, as long as you dug it out yourself.

Shovel in hand we went off to the farm, found a suitable tree and commenced to dig it out, saving the roots in a large ball wrapped in burlap.  Do you know how much a balled live tree weighs?  I’m going to guess about 175 pounds and it is all distributed in one place.  Getting that tree to the car, then out and in the house, and finally after trying the usual rooms settling in the same place the tree always went, my back was shot. 

The advantage of the live tree was it would not lose its needles and after Three Kings Day we would plant it in the back yard where it would grow and fill in a naked spot.

Turns out that to keep a tree alive over the winter you need to dig a large hole in the place you intend to eventually plant it.  If you do not dig that hole before the ground freezes your tree will not survive the winter.

 I did not dig a hole in the back before the ground froze. 

Our live tree did not make it to spring. 

Every time I bend over and my back sends an electric shock down my leg I think about that friggin tree.

We now have an artificial tree.  It is in a box in the basement.  It is a pain in the ass to put together.  It is a pain in the ass to take it down and put it back in the box.  This year it is staying in the box.

My son has a beautiful tree.

FRANK A. AND THE MOB

FRANK A. AND THE MOB

 

It seems that everyone loves a good mob story.  Some of the most popular movies of all time are mob movies.  “The Godfather,” “Goodfellows,” and “A Bronx Tale” are classics.  “The Sopranos” series put HBO on the TV map.  There is something about the power of evil along with the occasional ability to exact “Mob Justice” that is intoxicating.

One of the most interesting men I have ever known had “Mob” connections.  Frank A. was a clerk in a Wall Street Operations unit I supervised years ago.  His connection to organized crime was through his father whose barbershop was apparently once a popular mob hangout (there is a story of a famous mob rub-out which may have taken place in one of the shops chairs.) 

Frank might just be the nicest man I have ever known.   He may not, however, have been the brightest bulb in the lamp.  Because of this he was sometimes taken advantage of by some people with questionable backgrounds.

Frank never did anything criminal, but he was a member of a Masonic Temple-like club and was often called upon to perform minor favors for other members who might have had criminal dealings.  That is as much information as I could ever glean from him.

My favorite story that illustrates Frank’s innocence and somewhat slow wittedness involved a police situation.

Frank was returning to work from lunch in downtown NYC.  As he crossed the street he somehow found himself in the middle of a drug bust.  Half the way across the street, a plain clothes cop pulled a gun and pointed it at a suspected drug dealer behind Frank.  “Hold it right there,” the cop yelled. Frank stopped in his tracks and raised his hands.  “Not you, you idiot,” the cop screamed, “Get the hell out of the way!”

Frank told me he thought he was being stopped for crossing against the “don’t walk” sign.

Frank had twin sons who were also a bit on the slow side.  One son was being relentlessly bullied by another kid in school.  At some point, his son had enough and popped the bully in the nose. 

That night Frank got a call from the bully’s father.  The man claimed to be a friend of “Joey the Hook” a well-known gangster, and he made a veiled threat to Frank that his house just might “accidentally” catch on fire.

Frank was very upset and scared at this threat, so he called one of his friends from the club.  He called “Joey the Hook.”  Mr. Hook apparently did not take too kindly to having his name thrown wantonly about. 

Joey picked up Frank and along with two other friends whom Frank described as “refrigerators with arms and legs” called upon the man who had threatened Frank.

“Say hello to my little friends!”

“Please don’t hurt him,” Frank implored. 

“Naw, we won’t hurt him none, we just want to provide some disincentive for him to use my name.”

Frank rang his tormentor’s doorbell with the three gentlemen by his side.  The man who claimed to know “Joey the Hook” opened the door and was greeted by Joey himself.

“I understand youse suggested to my good friend Mr. A here that I “Joey the Hook,” was a friend of yours and further that as your friend I might be inclined to cause harm to Mr. A here.  I want to assure you that that is very unlikely.  Mr. A is an old friend to whom I owe several favors.  One favor if he so indicated it would amuse him, might be to cause distress to your person.  Do I make myself clear on this issue of causing harm to one’s friends?”

Frank told me that you could actually see the blood drain from the man’s head as he stammered his assurances to Joey that it was all just a joke and he meant no harm.

“Yeah, sure, a joke…” and everyone laughed except the man at the door, and Frank who was still afraid that his friends might hurt his kid’s bully’s father.

Organized crime and its members can be very scary, but when they use their muscle against a bully to protect an innocent, nice man like Frank, it is easy to see how they are sometimes characterized as “the good guys.”

Oh, and Frank's kids were never bullied at school again. 


Today's toddler talk quiz from Connor:
"Cam ee av pitat booby?"  HINT...it's a snack!      

Gun Control

Gun Control

 

Cranky Old Man does not own a gun, has never owned a gun, and has never even fired a gun.   Guns scare me.  I don’t want to hunt; I have no interest in target shooting, and don’t believe I need a gun for protection.   If I had a gun, the only time it would be fired it would likely be an unfortunate accident.  I don’t like guns.

I do not object to hunting.  Many people have a genetic urge to kill animals and fill their freezer with game.   I have eaten venison…it is delicious when prepared correctly.  I have no objection to people culling the deer herd by gun rather than culling it myself with the front bumper of my car.

Many people enjoy target shooting and or skeet shooting.  I do not wish to deprive these people of their sport.  I like to bowl.  I would be upset if laws were passed that take away my bowling ball just because some nut killed people by dropping bowling balls off a highway overpass.

If I lived in a remote area where visitors were rare, I would own a gun.  I would greet every car that came down my dusty country road with a smile, a wave, and a loaded shotgun.

Still, I believe we need stronger gun regulation in this country.  Purchasing guns should not be easy.  People should have a license to buy a gun.  The gun buying license should require some psychological testing.  At a minimum, people with crazy eyes should be disqualified (come on, you know what I mean!)  

 



 Do NOT sell guns to these people!

There should be a written test and a demonstration to prove the candidate is knowledgeable in gun use and gun safety.

The gun purchase license should be expensive, and should need to be renewed periodically.

Now the arguments against gun restriction:

Guns don’t kill people, people kill people. 

     Yes, but guns do make it easier and do increase productivity.

Only the criminals will have guns. 

     Well the criminals and the people that clear all the reasonable gun law restrictions.  Oh yeah, and the police.

Listen; do we really need assault weapons to kill a deer?  Do we need rapid fire heavy ammo to shoot at targets?  Does anyone need an Uzi for protection?

It is true that most of the mass murders in our recent history were perpetrated with guns that were either legally obtained or stolen and gun regulations would probably not have stopped these crimes.  However, all the stories have not been reported.

In April 2002, Cecil Plotnick went into a gun shop in Seattle with the intent of purchasing several handguns and then driving to the nearest mall and killing as many people as he could.  When told he had to wait for a background check he changed his mind and bought a PlayStation 3 instead.

In June 2007, John "Bubba” Beady tried to buy a high-power rifle and several boxes of ammo at “Ralph’s Burgers and Guns” café in Lacy Arkansas.  Ralph questioned him as to why he wanted so much ammo and Bubba responded, “To kill a whole bunch of people.”  When Ralph told Bubba he did not sell ammo that was to be used to kill people, Bubba went bowling.

The stories of Cecil, Bubba and hundreds of other similar stories never made the evening news.  Gun legislation that saves lives is not news.  Bad shit that never happens is hard to demonstrate statistically. 

If drunk driving was legal, wouldn't the roads be less safe?  If pilots required no training would you be nervous about flying?  If anyone could just hang up a shingle and call himself Doc, who would you go to when you were sick?

People do drive drunk.  Idiots do fly and crash planes.  Charlatans do imitate doctors.  Does that mean we should not have laws and regulations?  Laws and regulations limit bad shit.  They do not eliminate bad shit but they do reduce and restrict it.

Stricter gun regulations will not eliminate random mass murders, but it will stop some…we just won’t know about them ...ah...cause they didn't happen.