I'm not an NRA member, but that doesn't mean I didn't appreciate shooting blanks out of a machine gun.
A James Bond movie is a stuntman's dream. I was in a helicopter firing a machine gun at Piers Brosnan escaping on a motorbike.
I was a grunt, walking around in the jungle of Vietnam, trying not to find the enemy. Because I am so big, they were going to give me either a heavy radio or a huge machine gun to carry. I carried a radio.
No matter how many people you kill, using a machine gun in battle is not a war crime because it does not cause unnecessary suffering; it simply performs its job horrifyingly well.
I've always been curious about why one man jumps out of a foxhole with a grenade and charges a machine gun nest, and his buddy next to him sits there cowering. And my feeling is that the difference is tiny between the two.
I do know how to fire a machine gun, so be warned! I'm trained!
Love is a perky elf dancing a merry little jig and then suddenly he turns on you with a miniature machine gun.
As a young man, every bone in my body wanted to pick up a machine gun and kill Germans. And yet I had absolutely no reason to do so. Certainly nobody invited me to do the job. But that's what I felt that I was trained to do. Now no part of my upbringing was militaristic.
My gun trainer on the first 'G.I. Joe' gave me about a week of commando training, so I got to shoot every single machine gun and hand gun there was.
When the term 'machine gun' enters common parlance, the word 'machine' becomes much more sinister.