Before I moved to Florida from socialistic Sweden I pictured myself buying a Dirty Harry .44 magnum revolver. Once in Florida, two rounds from a Raging Bull made me rethink. The .357 magnum became my choice.
I have a recurring fantasy. In it the socialists themselves, both the politicians and their voters, see everything collaps around them in Sweden, and so they come floating on make-shift wooden rafts over the Atlantic for a better life. The politicians proudly call out, "We come with socialism!" But there I am, standing on a beach in Florida. I pick them, one by one floating a hundred yards out in the sea. The shots are controlled, well-aimed, all striking between the eyes. I speak out aloud while reloading, "America must remain free..." The sea is soiled red and I'm fine with that.