Just Checking

Why is it that I have to verify my intention to print off a document, and not my intent to fire a weapon? That is fairly backwards as far as I can tell.
Don't get me wrong. I'm all for saving a tree, and twenty-two cents worth of ink, but I'm also totally for putting a little extra thought into each bullet that gets shot.
"I'm gonna kill that bastard!"
"Are you positively sure that the bastard deserves to die?"
"Hell yes! He had sex with my wife!"
"OK then, do what you have to do."
It's not going to stop the common psychopath, or engraged lover, but what if it made somebody think twice, and decide that they actually did love their mother or father? What if the general public had two extra seconds do dive out of the way? What if that guy on the 405 had to double-click something in order to shoot your face off after you failed to use your turn signal?
Obviously, killing in general is uncalled for. I wish that I was creative enough to stop it. The best that I could ever hope for, though, is to slow it down a bit. Give Bambi another second. Make the crazies wait. One more moment might be what we all need. Think twice before ending a life.

Dude! We're over here!

It's OK. That was a simple mistake that any of us could have made. It was only 100,000 troops that you dispatched 9,000 miles to the east. You're advisors should have caught it.
And even if, for some silly reason, you actually intended to put so many Americans in hostile territory instead of just reinforcing our own borders and cities, you were probably tired when you made that call.
Pick yourself up, and dust off, man. Bring em' all back home and hire a few thousand therapists to listen to em' talk. They're gonna need it.
Saddam is dead, and Osama's probably wearing a burkha by now. Nobody really takes him seriously anymore. He just an insane, hateful, old man. There's a hundred of them in my town!
Bring the boys back, please. We need them here.

Do You Mind?

Wow! That’s a lot of death! I’m sure you guys are all really proud of yourselves, but there comes a time when you have just got to grow up a bit. I remember being a kid like it was yesterday. One time, my friend, Noah, and I turned a Super-Soaker into a flame-thrower by filling it with gasoline. Man! We burned the shit out of some ants! Granted, they started things by biting our asses first, so yah, we figured that they deserved it.
Obviously, our brains were not fully developed at that time, so I am sympathetic to your plight. You are all going through some changes, and having a little trouble finding your place in the world. Just give it some time.
Whoa! Those squirt guns are huge! Seriously. Put that thing down for a little while. What the hell is that anyways? Is that an M-16? No? It’s an RPG? No? It’s a rocket-launcher? No? It’s a remotely piloted drone, isn’t it? No? Then it’s a tank, for sure. No? It’s a Suzuki filled with explosives? No? What on earth? Why don’t you just tell me what it is?
Why are you wearing that dumb looking vest? And why are you carrying that big-ass knife? That’s not a box cutter. That’s a freakin scimitar, man. Chill out.
You know what? I decided long ago to just walk around the anthills, and mind my own business. That might sound corny to you kids, but it’s a helluva lot easier for everyone. Could you give me a hand with this leaf-blower?