(This is satire… so, all you redneck friends of mine… don’t holler “YES! He finally sees the light!” Because I am being ironic, and trying to make fun of all the sensible and right-thinking things you believe, and cannot ever give up trying to make me believe also.)
Dear Mr. Wayne LaPierre,
You has done got the rite ideer about guns. I agree whole-heartedly with all the love in my little black one-hunnert per cent ‘Merican heart that the only answer to a bad guy with a gun is a good guy with a bigger ‘n better gun. My name is Lester Winchuk, and I is a good, God-fearin’ Texas good-ol’-boy. And I have bigger ‘n better guns. Now, my main guvvenner, the great an’ honorable Rick Perry of the grand State of Texas (may God ever bless her little black one-hunnert per cent ‘Merican heart) has suggested on the Fox News that since some of them insane mass-shooter dudes likes to go inta movie theeatters and shoot them up some innocent people, we all otter be takin’ our beloved guns to the movies with us so we can pertekt ourselfs and the other folk too. In fact, I like the ideer of taking my bigger ‘n better guns to the movies with me. I jes’ might need to shoot some folks when that there Minions movie plays at the dollar movies in Laredo.
I does has one question, though. How does you aim proper at the bad guy’s haid or heart in a dark ol’ movie theeatter? Does you has to wait for a daylight scene in the movie so you can draw a proper bead on the monkey-flipper? (I doesn’t mean to actually say monkey-flipper, but I doesn’t know how to spell whut I actually mean, and thass the best the spell-checker thingy can do for me.) I would like to suggest a common-sense solution to this problem. I find that if you plug two or three… or six of the folks in the dark where you heard the first dang-old gun shots coming from, you will probably get him. And gettin’ that old perpetraitor is the main and most important thing, right? My brother Wayne (not actually named after you, but you is welcomed to be flattered by it) says maybe you shouldn’t plug any of the littler ones in case they may be innocent children or something… but I says, well, the shooter might be a midget, right?
I does has one old idjit English teacher, Mr. Beyer, who tole me I has gots to be more careful with my beloved guns. He seems to think that whut I thinks about guns is somewhat downright immoral or some such nonsense. But I tells him, I is always veeery careful with my beloved, bigger ‘n better guns. In all my years of carrying my guns everywhere I goes, even into the showers at the campgrounds we uses for our Confederate Social Club meetin’, they ain’t never gotten one ding-dang little ol’ rust spot or scratch on any of ’em.
This lettur was lovingly and carefully writ to you by,
Lester D. Winchuk, son of South Texas…