Marketing guns to men, on the other
hand, is remarkably straightforward
I mostly ignored the NRA meeting last week—insanity burnout is my own excuse, at least until they start erecting golden idols in the shape of AR-15s and placing them in front of courthouses—but others didn't, so here's a minor sociological quandary for you to consider: If you're the kind of gun-obsessed freak that has the pressing need to go hear the entire National Republican Convention lineup sans-Mitt preach wacky gun-oriented conspiracy theories at you,
and you are a woman, how will America's fine gun and gun accessory and gun conspiracy industry cater to
you?
It seems BuzzFeed sent some poor sap to find out, probably as some sort of punishment for something we're not privy to. But their pictorial conclusions seem to suggest that there's only a few things needed to feminize any gun product:
- You color the damn thing pink and be done with it. Pink shirts, pink guns, pink camouflage patterns on your pink guns. I can't quite figure out when and where a hot pink camouflage pattern would come in handy, but if you ever find yourself under zombie assault in CandyLand or fending off the main characters from My Little Pony, well, you'll be in good shape. Also: pink tasers, pink pepper-spray, pink knives. Wait—no pink bullets, though? Seriously? Slackers.
- You make a fashion-oriented concealed carry product. America's female gun obsessives are all about hiding their guns in (1) stylish purses dedicated to the task or (2) um, attached directly to bras? All right, I get the purse, but having an under-the-bra holster accomplishes exactly what, now? It means that whenever you get in a situation that urgently requires you to get your gun, first you have to unbutton your shirt. I'm just going to guess that the people designing "gun products for women" are much the same people that write action movies and design video games. I don't mean that in a good way.
- Women like paying more money for things. Things that are pink. Pink costs a lot of money, probably because of the advanced science involved in coloring something pink. Whatever.
Now I am sad. Every time I think I finally understand America, I am reminded that I really don't. And then I realize that no, I really do, and that's even more depressing.