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‘Predators’ Has Made Me Rethink My Position on Guns


Image from 20th Century Fox

While I was on holiday in Europe, I published a blog outlining my general beliefs about America’s cultural obsession with firearms, and obviously some not-so-regular “Off the Markley” readers came across it.

The comments were standard fair and not nearly as nutty as some of the people who wrote to me about the bionic cat (just read the first comment). I was about to dismiss my critics as hooting rednecks secretly praying for violent End Times to befall the world so that they have a chance to hole up and start shooting people who ask for their canned meats, but then I came across something will forever alter the way I look at the world.

I saw “Predators.”

Gun proponents are very fond of making arguments using “what if” scenarios. As in, “What if someone breaks into my house?” I previously dismissed this argument because I’m homeless and unemployed. Nothing to break into, you see.

But then I saw “Predators,” where Adrien Brody and a bunch of other people are kidnapped from Earth, taken to a planetary “game preserve” and hunted by a trio of Predators first seen terrorizing gubernatorial candidates back in the ’80s.

Adrien Brody is a mercenary, then there’s a CIA/special forces lady, a Yakuza Japanese guy, a Mexican drug cartel dude, a prisoner with a shiv, a Russian soldier, an African soldier and the guy from “That ’70s Show,” who (spoiler alert!) turns out to be some kind of serial killing psycho. Basically, you got all your stereotypes covered.

This movie got me thinking, “What if I’m kidnapped and dropped on Planet Predator? Do I really want to be the guy with the shiv? Everybody else has a goddamn machine gun, and I’m gonna be the sorry bastard with a shiv when I’m going up against an eight-foot tall monster with a shoulder-mounted laser cannon?”

That’s not gonna work!

Even if I’m really crafty like the guy from “That ’70s Show,” and I spend my time in this alien jungle earning the trust of the other’s and carefully biding my time while I collect a neurotoxin from a dangerous plant on my scalpel, how the hell is that going to help me against a predator?

How am I supposed to charm the predator into a false sense of security? Predators don’t get charmed, they open their crazy insect mouths and scream at you before they rip your skull and spine out.

Screw that. NRA, you win. I want a gun.