AR-15s are dumb, and we as Americans should work to collectively rid ourselves of this hyper-masculine scourge that has become a symbol of the mass shooting.


But I totally get it. It’s a weird, indescribable, hard-to-define phenomenon among insecure men. The gun is very phallic, and some guys are just desperate to feel that sensation of “big dick energy.”

And some men just want to walk into a WalMart and shoot Mexicans.

Side note: Someone should have told the alleged WalMart shooter that if he didn’t like Hispanic people, he is really going to hate Texas state prison.

Anyway, don’t get me started.

The garden-variety insecure nonpsychopath American male — which, sadly, is most of us — might find the AR-15 a tempting way to make ourselves feel like a man. And the gun, with all it’s aftermarket accessories, also checks off the desire for gadgets that runs deep in anyone with a Y chromosome.

But semi-automatic rifles really have no place in civilized society. This isn’t a war-torn, third-world country. At least not yet.

OK, yeah, we are probably six months away from some kind of United Nations intervention in the United States. But we don’t have to be.

Part of the solution: Lose the semiautomatic rifles.

There are so many other ways to “be a man” that don’t involve weapons of war.

A good alternative, and it pains me to the depths of my soul to say this because I hate them, but get yourself a motorcycle. It’s a sure-fire way to impress shallow people, and you can’t kill 20 people in 45 seconds with one. In fact, you might just hurt yourself.

For me, an insecure American man — yes, I admit it — an electric guitar is the solution.

I’m not talking about some effete acoustic guitar that a busker uses to belt out off-key Tom Petty numbers. I mean an electric guitar. You can even get a jet black one that looks like an assault rifle. Guitars are also called “axes,” so you can use them to protect your family.

I got my first electric guitar when I was 9ish and got stoned and took it apart when I was 15. It wasn’t until I was 22 that I re-upped and bought another. My girlfriend at the time got me a good deal because she was also sleeping with most of the staff of a La Jolla, Calif., Guitar Center. She had many boyfriends. I’m afraid all of us just had to get used to it.

Anyway, I’ve played off and on for about 30 years, and I don’t know one song. And it doesn’t matter. The true joy of the guitar is the surge of godlike power that rushes through me just knowing that, if I wanted to, I could crank the amp up full blast and annoy dozens of people in minutes.

So shitcan the killing machine and get yourself a battle ax. For those who need to accessorize, I’ve got two words for you: effect pedals. I’ve got one that makes my guitar sound like a laser gun. Aside from that, it seems to have no other function whatsoever.

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