Second, it would soon be revealed how pathetically few guns I actually have. I know three gun-writing colleagues who own upwards of 300 firearms. Where you would store this many guns I can’t imagine, unless you were to stack them in the garage like cordwood. Also, if they’re worth any money, you have to insure them. No, next to arsenals like these I have hardly any guns at all.
Also, a number of the covetous and mean-spirited among you have said that I was some kind of rich son of a b*tch who was flaunting his wealth to those lesser beings who had to shoot guns from K-Mart and eat government cheese or starve. Such is hardly the case. I may be a son of a b*tch, but I am not a rich one, and I use custom rifles because it’s expected of me.
More important, if you do this kind of work for a while you tend to get picky. You get to use some very fine rifles, and it’s hard to go back to something less. Sort of like working for a car magazine where you get to drive a steady diet of Mercedes, Aston-Martins, Ferraris, etc., and then you go home in your NSU Prinz. Eventually, you will sell your pets for medical experiments, steal your childrens’ college money, and buy a Bimmer of your own.