This profession we call “gunwriter” rose to prominence
with the introduction of sporting magazines in the late 1800s. The field
grew larger as our population grew, and the technology and social
aspects allowed an even bigger audience. At one point, many of the top
magazines had circulations in the millions.
The guys who wrote about guns at that level had paid their
dues. They had to be right, as their work was filtered through an
editorial board and judged by all those readers. They were true experts
in the field, well respected and extremely knowledgeable.
The next generation saw a boom in new magazines—and with
that, a need to fill more and more pages. As a result, the quality of
the writing declined a little. Then along came television with its
unadulterated foolishness. I suppose that’s the natural progression. As
each new technology advances, it becomes easier to reach out to the
masses, and an unintended consequence is a dumbing down of the content.
Now, we have TikTok videos, and all bets are off.
I think the first time it really hit home for me was when I
was in Florida for a writer’s event. The idea was that the organizers
would bring together a bunch of gun manufacturers and some of the top
gunwriters to try their products. At the meet and greet, there was one
guy being treated like royalty, which is fine; that always happens. But,
despite 30 years in the industry, I didn’t have a clue who he was. That
had never happened. I still don’t, as he goes by a made-up name. Around
mid-morning the first day, I made my way to the station featuring a new
tactical shotgun I wanted to try and perhaps write a piece on for this
very magazine.
“We are done,” the guy manning the station said. “Out of ammo.”
“It’s less than two hours into a three-day event. How can you be out of ammo? Didn’t you bring enough?”
“We brought twice what we needed.”
“Do you have more coming?” I asked.
“Nope, we got what we needed, and we are going home.”
It turns out the guy with an alias had shot all the ammo
in the first half-hour. His concept of testing a gun was to shoot as
much ammo as possible, as fast as possible. No real aiming, just
blasting. That, of course, left nothing for the rest of us. But, nobody
cared, because the thing might go viral. I mentioned I wanted to write
about the shotgun, and they turned and walked away.
That’s when it struck me that the days of a conventional
gunwriter were numbered. It’s been a minute since then, and today it’s
worse than I thought.
I just watched a video where they encased several guns in
concrete and then shot them. Why? I guess for clicks. What happened was
predictable and not all that dramatic. It takes being a bit brain dead
to even watch it. I have also seen videos where they film themselves
violating all four of the safety rules at once, which is … unsafe.
A common video social-media “gun test” is to show gun
after gun shot to pieces or until they melt down. No target, no aimed
fire; just blast until something breaks. There are an incredible number
of videos of guns blowing up. If the poor shooter almost gets hurt, it’s
guaranteed to go viral.
Think of the dumbest thing on earth you
would shoot at with a firearm, and it’s been done, often at great cost.
Some videos show allegedly skilled instructors (many, but not
all of
whom, seem to be in or from Russia) walking around downrange while their
students are shooting at the targets from behind them. How stupid is
all that? What is it saying about this generation of “content providers”
who work with firearms? What happens if their “fans” try such nonsense
themselves? Darwin at work? Well yes, but we certainly should not make
it that easy for him.
The question is: Where does it go from here?
I think it’s summed up well in the movie “Terminator 2:
Judgement Day.” There is a scene where a couple of kids are using what
appear to be real guns while pretending to shoot at each other. Watching
them, the character of John Connor says: “We aren’t going to make it
are we? People, I mean.”
The Terminator replies: “It’s in your nature to destroy yourselves.”
Connor: “Yeah, major drag, huh?”
READERS COMMENT on The Above Article
Bryce Towsley hit the nail on the head with his September column. We Ain't Gonna Make it. and I couldn't agree more. I have been a firearm enthusiast most of my life, and an armed professional my entire adult life. I've had the honor of servingin the SWAT and Special Forces communities, and since 2011 I've been a firearms instructor.
But now,I'm irrelevant because I don't fit the mold. Thanks to Social Media if you are not a muscle head in a skin tight T-shirt, with tattoos up and down your arms and neck, wearing Oakleys, a baseball cap and a battle belt, no one wants to listen to you.
The industry has become over-saturated with theses peacocks who are all about show instead of substance,split times instead of tactics, and gear instead of practicality. I admit I'm Old School, which is a badge of honor I wear proudly. And I'm proud to have had instructors and mentors I did, who passed on to me wisdom, not vanity.
Jeff P.
