A Quote by Henry Rollins

I wonder if the guy at the gun store would give me a discount on the bullets I'll need if I told him what I was up to. — © Henry Rollins
I wonder if the guy at the gun store would give me a discount on the bullets I'll need if I told him what I was up to.
Stevie Wonder used to come the ball games and they would have a guy sitting with him. And the guy would be holding on to his arm, telling him what's going on, and he would say, "Hey, the big chocolate guy just put down a thunder dunk. The chocolate guy with another monster dunk." And Stevie Wonder actually gave me the nickname Chocolate Thunder.
Cross the wrong state border with your gun, or wake up one morning to new legislation or a new presidential executive order, and suddenly you're the bad guy, not the good guy. No wonder some gun owners seem so touchy; they feel, at some level, like criminals in waiting.
The lady across the hall tried to rob a department store . . . with a pricing gun. She said, "Give me all of the money in the vault, or I'm marking down everything in the store."
That's a point that Dan Ellsberg has made for years. He said it's kind of like if you and I go into a grocery store to rob it, and I have a gun. The guy may give you the money in the cash register. I'm using the gun even if I don't shoot. Well that's nuclear weapons - essential to post-war deterrence - they cast a shadow over everything.
If you're a comic book fan, you know that any epic book, you would open it up - as a kid, I would just go through and look at who was fighting who. I'd stand there in the store for 15 minutes until the guy told me to buy the book or get out.
When it comes to understanding the nuts and bolts of the details of any policy, the elites haven't the slightest idea. I'm sure you've done this, too. In every gun control debate, somebody, some smart aleck will pop up and say the truth. The guns not killing anybody. The person pulling the trigger is. And then somebody will say, you know if you people were really serious, you'd ban bullets, a gun's worthless without bullets. And here we are. Here we are. Isn't it much easier to ban the production, the manufacture, and the sale of bullets than guns?
You don’t need no gun control, you know what you need? We need some bullet control. Men, we need to control the bullets, that’s right. I think all bullets should cost five thousand dollars… five thousand dollars per bullet… You know why? Cause if a bullet cost five thousand dollars there would be no more innocent bystanders.
Gun owners would have to be evaluated by how they scored on written and firing tests, and have to pass the tests in order to own a gun. And I would tax the guns, bullets and the license itself very heavily.
If the guy has a gun, that's the power. He doesn't need to wave the gun; he just needs to point the gun in a very relaxed fashion.
I was carrying my friend in his casket to put him in the hearse, and I was thinking, 'I need to write a song for this guy, because he always told me I would have a No. 1 song.'
Bullets on a presentation slide are too often like bullets in a gun - deadly for those on the receiving end.
Give me the gun." Ranger said. I extracted the gun from my pants and handed it over. Ranger held the gun in the pulm of his hand and smiled. "It's warm," he said. He put the gun in the glove compartment and plugged the key into the ignition. Am I fired?" No. Any women who can heat up a gun like that is worth keeping around.
Let's create a regime that makes sale of bullets to anybody not licensed to carry a gun illegal, makes resale illegal, micro-stamps bullets so they can be traced. No Second Amendment issues here. This would have a remarkable impact on both violence and the capacity to solve shooting crimes.
Years ago, I was asked to come up to do a store signing in Vermont. The short version is the two younger guys who own the store pick me up at the airport and start driving me around Vermont, showing me the sights and the textile mills and the restaurants, and the punchline is there's no store. There is no store!
I would stay away from him and leave him to go his own road where there would be other women, countless other women, who would probably give him as much physical pleasure as he had had with me. I wouldn’t care, or at least I told myself that I wouldn’t care, because none of them would ever own him—own any larger piece of him than I now did.
My father owned a music store when I was growing up in Rock Falls, Illinois. He could play all the instruments, which you had to do when you owned a music store back then. One day, when I was three years old, he took me to a parade. When the drums passed by, I got so excited I told him wanted to learn to play them.
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