‘Puter applied for his New York concealed carry permit on Friday. ‘Puter attempted to upload the wonderful form for all to see, but was stymied, partially due to the Blogger software, and partially due to his ineptitude with things electronic. Suffice it to say, the State of New York’s pistol/revolver license application is onerous. Its plain intent is to discourage anyone from applying to concealed carry.

“Why apply at all, then, ‘Puter?”, you ask. ‘Puter applied for several reasons. First, ‘Puter can not legally possess a handgun without the concealed carry license, and ‘Puter would like someday to inheirit his grandfather’s WWII M1911. Second, ‘Puter would like to take a handgun with him to hunt, as it’s far easier to track game through brush with a pistol than with a long gun. So ‘Puter applied.

Here’s the run down on what New York requires to get licensed.
It costs $5 to get the application, and one can only get it from the County Clerk’s Office. The application requires one to provide four character references. It also unconstitutionally requires that the applicant provide a reason why he needs a pistol. Imagine the ruckus if media members were required to be licensed at all, much less to be required to provide a reason why such license should issue. There would be much liberal wailing and gnashing of teeth, and rightly so.

Once the application is filled out, it’s another $105.25 (postal money order only) to buy the state conducted mental health and criminal background checks. The necessary four passport photos are an additional $20. Then one gets to schlep down to the Public Safety Building and pay $25 for four sets of fingerprints (helpfully open only 5-7 p.m. Monday through Thursday, 1-3 p.m. Friday). Once one has done all this, one returns to the County Clerk’s Office, pray that one’s papers are in order, and pay $5 to file the completed application. Then one waits 6-8 months for New York to get around to reviewing one’s permit, and for a judge to decide whether one is worthy to receive a permit. That’s correct, readers, a state judge must adjudicate each and every permit.

The length of this post is purposeful. Through the vast Gormogon communications network, ‘Puter, Czar and Volgi have been having a running battle as to permissible limits on concealed carry. ‘Puter posits that a relatively thorough and lengthy process for concealed carry is constitutionally acceptable (so long as it is a “shall issue” scheme, but that no such permit can be required simply to own a pistol for home defense or hunting. Czar and Volgi think ‘Puter is, politely, plein du merde on carry permits, and that the permits should issue quickly with little process other than an instant background check.

What say the thus convened Gormogons?

'Puter

Always right, unless he isn’t, the infallible Ghettoputer F. X. Gormogons claims to be an in-law of the Volgi, although no one really believes this.

’Puter carefully follows economic and financial trends, legal affairs, and serves as the Gormogons’ financial and legal advisor. He successfully defended us against a lawsuit from a liquor distributor worth hundreds of thousands of dollars in unpaid deliveries of bootleg shandies.

The Geep has an IQ so high it is untestable and attempts to measure it have resulted in dangerously unstable results as well as injuries to researchers. Coincidentally, he publishes intelligence tests as a side gig.

His sarcasm is so highly developed it borders on the psychic, and he is often able to insult a person even before meeting them. ’Puter enjoys hunting small game with 000 slugs and punt guns, correcting homilies in real time at Mass, and undermining unions. ’Puter likes to wear a hockey mask and carry an axe into public campgrounds, where he bursts into people’s tents and screams. As you might expect, he has been shot several times but remains completely undeterred.

He assures us that his obsessive fawning over news stories involving women teachers sleeping with young students is not Freudian in any way, although he admits something similar once happened to him. Uniquely, ’Puter is unable to speak, read, or write Russian, but he is able to sing it fluently.

Geep joined the order in the mid-1980s. He arrived at the Castle door with dozens of steamer trunks and an inarticulate hissing creature of astonishingly low intelligence he calls “Sleestak.” Ghettoputer appears to make his wishes known to Sleestak, although no one is sure whether this is the result of complex sign language, expert body posture reading, or simply beating Sleestak with a rubber mallet.

‘Puter suggests the Czar suck it.