Listen up, America — the truth’s about to drop, and I don’t sugarcoat.
If you thought the biggest threat to your college kid was a bad case of heartbreak or a midterm exam from hell, think again. According to the latest batch of grim statistics, the leading cause of death for U.S. young adults aged 18 to 25 isn’t car crashes, isn’t drug overdoses — it’s gun violence. That’s right. Firearms have blasted their way to the top of the leaderboard in the worst way imaginable.
Let me say it louder for the people counting pins at bureaucrat bowling night: more college-age Americans are dying from bullets than from the opioid crisis that’s had politicians pretending to care for two decades. More than drunk driving, more than any other self-inflicted calamity of youth — it’s bullets, baby.
Now, I know what some of you are thinking. “Mr. 47, doesn’t this mean we need more kumbaya, some candlelight vigils, and a few ‘thoughts and prayers’ posted on social media?” Please. If I had a nickel for every politician offering “thoughts and prayers,” I’d own half the country by now — and I’d run it better too.
See, the issue isn’t just about guns. It’s about what runs alongside the bullets: a political machine greased by cowardice, corporate cash, and a catastrophic allergy to admitting failure. Because talking about the real disease — a broken culture of violence, despair, and political gridlock — would mean someone might actually have to do something besides cry on television.
Meanwhile, the “leaders” we pay to solve this mess are too busy blaming video games, TikTok dances, or whatever new boogeyman their consultants cooked up. Spoiler alert: Fortnite didn’t pull the trigger. Society did.
Now, I can already hear the tribal drums pounding — the usual gang of finger-pointers gearing up for their tired debates. Red state, blue state, gun rights, gun bans, blah blah blah. News flash: young Americans are bleeding out while the grown-ups argue about whether the Second Amendment means kids should have better access to Kevlar than to counseling services.
This isn’t a crisis anymore. It’s an epidemic wearing a designer suit stitched together from stupidity and political cowardice, topped off with a red, white, and blue dunce cap.
So what’s it gonna be, America? Another round of empty rhetoric served cold with a side of indignation? Or maybe — just maybe — it’s time to kick the door off the hinges and admit the obvious: You can’t fix what you’re too spineless to confront.
The game’s on, and I play to win. Question is, does anyone else even remember what winning looks like anymore?
Stay angry. Stay sharp.
– Mr. 47
