Last night my roommate saw my neighbor shooting off a gun. Now, to some of you in rural areas, this may not seem like a big deal. You're probably thinking something along these lines, "Heck man, I see my neighbors shootin' all the time. Jus the otha day, Ol' Ray bagged hisself a real nice buck." But this was no moonshine and square-dance affair; this was the Bronx and this was a handgun. Apparently, the guy pumped off a bunch of shots, saw my roommate, smiled at him and walked inside.

When my other roommate and I heard about this we were shocked. "A gun," we gasped, "In the Bronx?!" It was unfathomable. As most white people do when they hear a minority living near them owns a weapon, we became very republican for a minute. Within seconds, I was on the internet checking handgun prices. My other two roommates also began exploring their options: Tim was on his computer looking at shotguns, Matt started calling sports stores to check on their baseball bat selection.

When we had all decided on which model of weapon would best protect us from the probably incarcerated man next door, a heated debate broke out. Each of us insisted that our method of protection was the best. Tim, the shotgun enthusiast, pointed out that an automatic shotgun has "stopping power" and will "spray" the criminal with shot. Matt, Mr. Baseball, insisted that a swift blow with a nice Louisville Slugger will put anyone out cold. His plan involved hiding by the door until the perp entered. At this point he would slam him in the head with the bat and the battle would be won. But I liked my choice the best. A handgun can be easily concealed so your friends won't play with it. "Hey dude, this party is awesome and look what I found under the couch" BAM!" There would be none of that since I would keep my handgun stealthy concealed in my hand and who is going to try to take it away? Plus, I could sit in my bed while the bad guy robs us blind and, just when he's about out the door, spring out of bed and pump a 13 shot volley into his ass.

Like all men our age, we like to pretend that we would be able to stand up to an armed criminal. But we all know what would really happen if someone broke into my home: Tim would be trying to place a frantic phone call to his Dad to say "I love you," Matt would be sitting on the bat to hold back the rush of fear trying to exit there and I would be crying under my bed, thinking of all the things I could have done with my life. Well, that would be the case if I wasn't legally allowed to purchase a handgun.

Yes, my friends, I have a handgun permit which allows me to buy and carry a handgun in Connecticut. It wouldn't do me much good in New York since it would be illegal but I could buy one nonetheless. This whole little story is just a roundabout way for me to get a point across; we need to get a new president. The fact that I can carry a handgun with nothing more than a basic knowledge of pistol use and decent eyesight is a frightening prospect. If I can pass a handgun certification class, anyone can. I don't know about you, but I do not want people like me – short tempered, angry, paranoid young men – all carrying guns around with them. So, get out there and vote or you might just end up in a pool of blood on the floor while, with your last ounce of strength, you hear me say, "How was I supposed to know it was loaded?"