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?”