National Rifle Appropriation

At least once a month, I am asked to join the NRA. Shiny packets will arrive in the mail, or old men in red hats will stop me at the mall. I’ll smile and nod, politely declining to “protect my rights and family”. I’ll throw the stretchy wristband or commemorative koozie away as I walk away silently fuming. I’ve learned that fighting back is futile- “screaming teenage girl outside Great American Cookie” doesn’t carry the strongest ethos. NRA members appealing to Alabama’s youth infuriates me.