Proof gun grabbers ain't the sharpest tools in the shed!
http://www.illinoislovestogoshooting.org/forums/viewtopic.php?t=2528Chicago Gun "Buy"
On Saturday, July 21, Chicago held its largest and most generous city-sanctioned gun buy of junk and orphaned firearms. The organizers paid $100 for each firearm, regardless of age, functionality or type. Turn in locations were situated at 23 churches throughout the city.
GUNS SAVE LIFE PARTICIPATED!
Guns Save Life participated in this worthy event, attracted by the offer of $100 pre-paid credit cards for any firearms!
…into a bunch of pre-paid $100 MasterCards.
I left Champaign-Urbana at 0530 with 27 guns in my trunk and one on my hip(fanny pack per Illinois Law). Given that Chicago Police reportedly now receive one vacation day and a $300 bonus on their paychecks for each gun they confiscate, I was very cautious. Visions of a car accident and subsequent police contact and discovery of the guns in my trunk filled the back of my mind. It would surely earn me the label of "gun runner" and incarceration in the disease-ridden bowels of Chicago’s city jail.
I'm sure the first officer to find said guns would go:
"Hoo YAH! Cha-CHING, BABY! I just got a month and a half off and a free trip to Aruba!"
I had a map with turn in locations listed and had planned to be there at 0800, so as not to get there after they ran out of cards (as almost happened to us in Joliet a few years ago when we got there at 0930 or so). I went to the best location proximate to I-90/94 and found myself in the heart of the bad-news ghetto in Chicago. Fortunately, the thugs were sound asleep at this wee hour. I found the door locked at the church and nobody around. Called 311 and found that the event started at 1000.
I killed some time by reconnoitering the second location I planned to transact business with and found a store for a restroom. Returned to location #1 and guardedly read a couple of chapters of “Godless” by Ann Coulter. Towards 1000, there were a lot of folks around looking like they were going to be turning stuff in, so I grabbed two bags (of five) out of the trunk and went to the door at 1000 sharp.
I stood in line there listening to a bunch of hopeless sheep bleat for half an hour. It repulsed me. "I've been blessed," one man said. "When things happen around me, like shooting or people screaming, I don't even look up."
"I figure if something's gonna happen to me, it's gonna happen," he concluded.
Won’t look up if he hears a woman screaming? How pathetic is that?
They finally opened a half-hour late. They let us in, two at a time. I was first with a real gun... or ten, in this case. Older, but nice, cop played the gun expert, but it was clear he was no expert at handling guns. I had to help him show clear on many of the revolvers as he was painfully slow in his inept effort at opening some of these old wheelguns. After professing an ignorance about guns, I had to pretend to fumble around with the mechanisms. I threw in a few muzzle sweeps for good measure to make it look good. I did keep my finger off the trigger though, which any "pro" would have noticed right away.
He took all ten, including the starter pistol, as real guns. Not my problem that he gave us $100 for that starter pistol. He was just glad and happy I could show him empty cylinders, as he was initially taking about two or more minutes per gun to check them (until I started fumbling and sweeping) and there were lots of folks waiting outside.
They gave me my ten credit cards and thanked me profusely, falling all over themselves to tell me what a great thing I was doing and I reciprocated, encouraging them to do it again!. I stuffed the envelopes into my back pocket after folding them.
I noticed that she was pulling the envelopes out of a box which contained an estimated 200 envelopes. ($20,000 x 23 locations = About a half-million in support of this program from someone. Looking back, it seems like a pretty fair estimate!) Separate box for the $10 cards for pellet guns and replicas. Similar number of envelopes there.
I left the building in condition orange, watching for any thugs waiting to ambush anyone coming out. The suspicious character who was eyeballing me earlier with my two bags of guns wasn’t there any longer. Got into the car across the street and was giddy with excitement. I had just sold $10 worth of scrap plus maybe a $50 5-shot .22 "affordable" wheel gun for $1000! It was too good to be true, but it really was true!
On to location #2. I was a little worried, since I was a half-hour behind schedule, thanks to the late open at the first church. I had reconnoitered the location #2 earlier, so it was effortless to find after a few minutes and a single turn. Found a parking spot fairly close to the door.
That was a good thing, because I had nine long guns in two bags, plus another small bag of handguns to go. About forty awkward pounds of rusty (s)crap. I mulled over whether or not to split this into two take-ins (at location #2 and then #3), but decided that based upon my warm reception at location #1, I'd just take them all in.
In I went, greeted with "whoa! I see you've got some guns!" by the lady at the door. Waited in line, watching "the room". Hot shot young guy was clearing the guns on the table by the door. Very "friendly", but invasive at the same time. Classic "good cop". I’m sure he’d be a good buddy – if you were a fellow cop.
"Hey, howya doin'" he greets me. "All these unloaded?"
"I dunno. I think so. I'm not real big on guns." My toes were crossed.
He has trouble getting the guns out of the duct-taped bag. I instinctively reached for my blade, which was not there because it’s four and a half-inch blade would have landed me in the slammer in disarmed-victim Chicago.
“One of you guys got a knife to help him open this up?” I asked.
They all looked at one another like I just asked them for a gold brick or something. Not one of about five cops had a blade. How sad.
Finally, some little old lady brings a pair of $1.00 scissors and Hotshot cuts the tape, with some difficulty.
He starts checking them, and notices the rust on his hands from a couple of really choice specimens. You could get tetanus from these if you had any open sores.
"Didja hit a bunch of pawn shops or something?" He asked. "Hey, Benny, come look at these."
Benny comes over and starts sweating me. He's playing "bad cop" in a restrained way. Same questions, only a lot more assertive. "Where'd you get all these? You buy them to bring here?"
They broke me in about as long as it takes in CSI or one of those other cheesy TV cop shows.
"Uh. No, they aren't really mine. They belonged to my grandfather and his father. I sold the decent ones and had this stuff in the attic for a long time until I saw you guys were giving $100 cards for any old guns."
Midway through his clearing of the guns, Hotshot motions for me to come closer while he was holding one of the guns.
"Hey, did you know this one was one of our sniper rifles from World War II," he said. "See this here," he noted, pointing at the elevation mechanism, "this is the windage adjustment."
I’m thinking: SUPPRESS LAUGH!
"Wow. If I'd have known that, I might of kept that one," I replied. It was a broken down, 60s-era, hardware-store, tubular-fed .22 long rifle pump gun with the tube hanging out of the receiver. I told this to the guy who donated this gun to the club, and he laughed. "It must have been a one-of-a-kind custom gun!" he said with a hearty laugh.
After showing clear on all thirteen, Benny showed me to the "money table." Similar number of envelopes, only the box was only 2/3 full here. Another woman was busy making notes for each of 13 envelopes and putting labels on the guns. I sashayed over to the other end of the table and had a peek at the "pistol" box. Total junk. Pot metal wheel guns. Maybe a couple of S&Ws, but more likely, just patent-infringement guns from no-name makers. No modern semi-autos.
"Hey you, get over here." Oops, they caught me eyeballing their treasure.
I sheepishly returned.
They gave me the envelopes and watched suspiciously as I verified the count. Gave them a big thumbs up and a smile and turned to leave. It was like they had formed a reception line behind me. Four or five of the women wanted to shake my hand and thank me profusely. Even took my photo with a big shot there. I remembered to stick my middle finger out a lot further than the rest of my fingers while trying to hold a fanned out stack of envelopes for the photo.
Ugh! Got out of there and I ran out of hand sanitizer and baby wipes in the car wiping the funk off my hands.
EPILOGUE
So, Guns Save Life ended up netting $1700 worth of MasterCards from the event. The club is in the process of selling some of the cards to members for cash and five of the cards are going to be spent at Darrell’s Custom Guns in Cayuga, IN for two CZ bolt-action .22s to be given away to two lucky kids participating in the NRA Youth Shooting Camp coming up over the first weekend in August. The rest of the money (and then some) will be spent purchasing ammo for the kids to use during the camp. The camp, located in Bloomington at Darnall’s, is the longest running NRA Youth Shooting Camp in the nation.
You accounting wizards should know that I didn’t turn in the personal defense pieces that I keep in my trunk, especially when going to dangerous places like Cook County.
And they sure weren’t getting the pistol in my fanny pack!