From: Gregory P. Kane, Disgruntled Citizen Menaced by Dirt Bike-Riding Scofflaws
Re: Dirt bike-riding scofflaws
It happened soon after I made the turn on to Oakley Avenue from Park Heights Avenue. My first sign that there might be trouble was when I saw the two dimwits standing in the middle of the street at the corner of Oakley and Palmer avenues.
"Ah!" I said to myself. "And here we have two more geniuses who have no idea why the word sideWALK has 'walk' in it."
That's when I saw the dirt bike boys, two them, headed in my direction - the wrong way on a one-way street, I might add - as I drove east on Oakley. I had just passed them when they wheeled the dirt bikes around and headed back up Oakley, tailgating my beat-up 1991 Honda Accord, tilting the dirt bikes back on the rear wheel so that the front wheel was raised in the air as they jetted menacingly up the street.
I sized up both guys immediately. That bad part of Greg Kane - the one you know all too well, Ms. Mayor and Gov. O'Malley - immediately pegged them. But I was determined I wasn't going to let these miscreants rattle me. I didn't speed up, but I didn't slow down, either. I maintained my speed until I stopped at a red light at the corner of Oakley and Pimlico Road.
I suspect either speeding up or slowing down was exactly what these characters wanted me to do. If I had sped up, they'd have known they had rattled me and they would have sped up. If I had slowed down, they may have crashed into the bumper of my car, accused me of causing an accident and then done God only knows what.
That "God only knows what" is the reason this letter is addressed to you, Governor. Since I see the day soon coming that I'll need to defend myself against youthful lawbreakers out to provoke a confrontation, I appeal to you to encourage the legislature to pass an effective right-to-carry law here in Maryland. And I would urge you to sign it.
And no, I don't mean that pathetic, far-too-restrictive statute currently on the books that you think is a right-to-carry law. I mean one where I can walk into a gun store, have the owners do the necessary background check, wait the specified time period and then get my weapon once it's been determined I'm a law-abiding citizen.
You don't want to support that kind of law, Governor? Fine. Then you've just tossed the ball into Mayor Dixon's court.
Ms. Mayor: Since the governments of the state and city have made it virtually illegal for me to protect myself, then the city has implicitly promised me protection 24 hours a day, seven days a week, 365 days a year. I can't carry a gun that shoots bullets to protect myself. I think I'd be on shaky legal ground if I even toted a water gun or a peashooter.
Knives are out. So are pepper spray and stun guns. With all these restrictions, the only option I have against budding criminals like the ones I've described is to go up against them - and whatever weapons they choose to wield illegally - with my bare hands. Ms. Mayor, I urge you to look carefully at the photo that accompanies this column.
That photo is indeed of one Greg Kane, who's been renowned for being pugilistically challenged since he popped out of the womb. I need a leg up when defending myself; city law won't allow me one. So, Ms. Mayor, you give me one. You have a moral obligation to assign a police officer to guard me 24 hours a day, seven days a week, 365 days a year.
You say you can't to that, Ms. Mayor?
Then Governor, the ball's back in your court. You're going to have to persuade the legislature to give me that right to carry. You can pull this off. You seem to have that Dr. Mabuse-like effect on Democrats in the state legislature, much like the one you have on the minds of Baltimore's citizens.
Come on, Governor. Work that magic. Go do that voodoo that you do so well.
Does this ball go back in Ms. Mayor's court? Ms. Mayor, if you can't protect me, then at the very least you have to order police Commissioner Fred Bealefeld to do something to put the kibosh on these dirt bike-riding scofflaws. Because I guarantee you: I'm not armed, but somebody these idiots roll up on will be.
And they might not be the kindhearted, caring, lovable soul that I am.
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