It's one of those nights when I can't stop remembering things, so I thought I'd post one of the things that keeps going round and round. William Sanders recently initiated a new and very enlightening public newsgroup over at www.sff.net callled Discuss Things That Go Bang. It's about guns, their history, mechanics, and such. But one thread got off topic and ended up discussing knives vs. guns and how much worse knives were. It seems that there is an old saying "Rush a gun, run from a knife" and I agree with that one.

I have had two encounters in my life in which I had to employ something sharp to save myself from being badly beaten and possibly killed, but I grew up in rough neighborhoods. I agree with Sanders that using something sharp is unpleasant and even nightmarish. But so is being beaten and being in fear of one's life. Mama always taught me that if you found yourself in a threatening situation, you went all out with no holds barred and thought only of survival. And then there is the old adage, better for twelve to sit on you than six to carry you.

Anyway, getting back to topic, I was raised by a woman with a temper who was hell on wheels when threatened or provoked. One of her favorite stories, which she told me as an example of proper behavior and she told it with genuine relish was what she once did with a stick pin on a street corner late at night in Los Angeles back in the early 1950s. She and Papa had gone downtown for dinner and a movie. It was in the days of the zuit suits and sheath dresses. She had on one of those very tight sheath dresses and you just about had to be poured into them. As they were walking, a group of wild young males in zuit suits ran past her and one of them slapped her very hard on the butt. It hurt and made her angry. She quickened her pace seeing him stopped at a light waiting for it to change and cross. She pulled the pin out of her coat and drew back as hard as she could, then slammed it into his ass as the light changed and continued on without breaking stride. The wounded individual simply fell down screaming "I've been stabbed" Mama hoped sincerely that it was a long time before he could comfortably sit down again.

The morale of the story is: Don't hit strange women they might be armed.


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