Just a couple of days ago, I posted about an “article” by Alan Baird and his encounter with an open carry senior citizen. I Just found out via The Smallest Minority that Mr. Baird allegedly got “scared” and removed his post. He wails about his First Amendment rights being attacked by us Barbarians and now more than ever that nobody should own guns.

Mr. Baird seems to believe that the Right to Free Speech comes with the extended bonus that you are not allowed to be criticized. I did a quick check in my personal copy of the Constitution and unless I have a defective one, I see nothing of the kind.  Mr. Baird did remove the original post and changed it to some long rant about he being a taught by a hunter or some other bullcrap that now, unfortunately for him nobody believes but his equally minded fellows.

Fortunately somebody made a copy of the original post We The Armed so I am gonna reproduce it here for your reading pleasure:

Gunfight At The Shopping-Cart Corral. (by Alan C. Baird)

shopping cart corralSo, the wife and I were shopping at our local natural-foods grocery store this morning. No, we’re not tree-huggers. They just have a nice fruit section. Peaches and sh*t.

We were browsing through the peach aisle when my wife urgently pulled me aside: “Did you see that guy?”

“What guy?” I craned my neck to peek around behind her.

“Don’t look. He might shoot.”

“Whaaaat?!” That really captured my attention. Sure enough, some corpulent 80-year-old a**hole was standing in front of the donut peaches, packing a pistol. Rosewood-checkered grip, tooled-leather holster, the whole bit. Not a law enforcement guy, just some retired jerkoff who evidently wanted to enhance the perceived size of his schlong.

Allow me to digress for a moment: the last time I wore a gun and a tooled-leather holster, I was six years old. I had imaginary shootouts with Tommy, who lived next door. Our guns were just cap pistols. Nobody got hurt, unless you tried to drop a big rock on several rolls of caps. (Don’t try this at home. I speak from experience.) We loved wearing the full cowboy drag. And we enjoyed using our guns and holsters.

Until we outgrew them.

At age six.

I mean, everybody outgrows them, right?

Well, apparently not.

Okay, back to Mr. Second-f___ing-Amendment: when I saw that gun in the grocery store, steam started shooting from my ears. I marched up to the front office and loudly demanded to see the manager. When he arrived, I was apoplectic: “If you’re gonna allow this kind of behavior in your store, I’m not gonna shop here anymore.”

The manager was apologetic: “I can’t stop him. Arizona is a Right-To-Carry state.”

no firearms allowed “You can’t post a ‘No Firearms Allowed’ sign on the door?”

“Sadly, no.”

I riposted: “Bars can do it.”

“I know. But that’s because they sell alcohol.”

“Then it’s high time to get a liquor license.”

He nodded. “I hear you.”

“So, guns are off-limits in bars, schools, government buildings, airports and airliners. You think it’s a good idea to allow them in your grocery store?”

“No, but…”

“And it’s not like this white-bread neighborhood is dangerous. The worst criminals you have are jaywalkers.”

“Exactly. I recently moved here from California, and I can’t believe what these people get away with.”

I pulled out the big guns: “Displaying a gun is an implied threat of violence. His threat has spread fear in your customers. Instilling fear is a hallmark of terrorism. Under some definitions, he has already committed a terrorist act.”

He sympathized. “Guns are just murders waiting to happen.” But then he shrugged.

The shrug derailed me. What’s that Edmund Burke quote? “All that is necessary for evil to triumph is for good people to do nothing.”

I shuffled back to the peach aisle, tail between my legs. The gun-totin’ a**hole had moved over to the nectarine aisle. My wife said: “Well?”

“It’s legal. Nothing to be done.”

“You’re kidding.” Let me explain: she’s European. And like most civilized people, she often has trouble understanding some of Arizona’s mediæval laws.

I shook my head. “Nope. And I can’t say anything to him. If he’s psycho enough to wear a gun in a grocery store, he’s psycho enough to use it. All of us would end up on the evening news, looking like Swiss cheese.”

She was silent for a long time. “You’re afraid of him?”

“Duh.”

“Then I will buy you a gun at Christmas. And you will buy one for me.”

“Huh?” I couldn’t believe my ears. Every now and then, she has trouble with the English language. I was beginning to wonder if this was one of those times.

“We will return here on December 26th, and we will stand in front of that old fasz with our brand-new guns, and we will call him out.” ‘Fasz’ is the Hungarian word for ‘pr*ck.’ When she starts peppering her conversation with Magyar expletives, it’s a pretty good indication she’s having no trouble at all with her English. “And if he tries to walk away, we will laugh at the size of his tiny shriveled-up fasz.”

“He’ll draw. You know he’ll draw.”

“He’s old. We’re faster.”

Yes Mr. Baird, you are famous. Enjoy!

Update: UPDATE: Mr. Blair, citing undue attention from our side, deleted his original post. Unfortunately for him screenshots of his original post  can be found in Walls of The City. And to avoid himself any further need to defend what he allegedly believes in but maybe not, Mr. Baird has closed comments on his blog citing First Amendment concerns…Huh?