Last Friday my friend and I headed to the range for some trigger therapy. While there, we were accosted (for lack of a better word) by a club member who wanted to verify our membership at the club. Once it was determined that our documents were in order, and that we had been properly advised of the range rules, he turned his eye to the collection of hardware we had spread out on the benches, which included three AR-15s, two Ruger 10/22s, and my Colt Gold Cup 10mm. He proceeded to educate us about the capabilities of our firearms.

Regarding the ARs, and the scoped match AR in particular, we learned:

You can't do nothin' with 'em.

This was clearly a reference to the fact that you can't hunt with a semi-automatic rifle in Pennsylvania.

They're just for sprayin'.

No, no, they just look like they're bullet hoses. In fact, these are semi-automatic guns: one trigger pull, one bullet, just like Grampa's thutty-thutty. And by the way, I just sprayed twenty rounds into this little two inch circle without really trying.

They're not really meant for scopes. You just put that on there.

Yep, machined that rail onto the receiver frame myself, because you can't buy one like that anywhere.

You can't shoot a pistol at 50 yards. I don't care how good you are.

Since you mention it, actually we can, and we can even score accurate and repeatable center mass hits.

Sadly, despite our attempts to educate this gentleman, we were clearly just a pair of punks with evil assault rifles and no idea how to use 'em. Clearly to us, this man was a Fudd who would happily pass another gun ban so long as he got to keep his sniper rifle huntin' gun.

That old saying about hanging together or hang separately keeps floating through my mind.