Etymology: Italian gambetto, literally, act of tripping someone, from gamba leg, from Late Latin gamba.
1. An opening in chess in which a minor piece, or pieces, usually a pawn, is offered in exchange for a favorable position.
2. A maneuver, stratagem, or ploy, especially one used at an initial stage.
3. A remark intended to start a conversation or make a telling point.
Men in Black.
Kay: Keep him on THIS planet.
Jay: Kay, where are you going?
Kay: I'm going to get my gun back. . .
Kay to Bug: You're nothing but a smear on the sports page to me, you slimy, ugly, intestinal parasite! Eat me! EAT! ME!
[The Bug swallows Kay whole]
Jay: Kay! Kay!
I was talking over present events on the blog and around the country with a very good friend the other day, and he was urging me to back off on the direct affronts to the ATF and its armed bureaucrats. Affronts like this, and this, and this.
He couldn't believe that every time I write something about a specific ATF employee, I send them a copy to their work emails.
"Well," I explained, "You don't want me to say stuff behind their backs that I wouldn't say to their faces, do you?" I smiled.
He looked at me with exasperation.
"Damn, Mike, you know what you remind me of?"
"Remember in Men in Black where Kay insults the interstellar cockroach and yells, 'Eat me! Eat me!'?"
He said, "It ain't funny, boy. Sooner or later they WILL eat you. Why the hell do you keep tempting them?"
He's a chess player and he knew what I was saying. After a moment he commented.
"Pretty damn hard on the pawn, though."
"Yeah," I answered. "Probably so. But if it's the only way to kill the cockroach? Besides, somebody's got to be the pawn, might as well be me. You know what they say, 'never ask your troops to do something you won't do yourself.'"
"We don't have that many 'troops,'" he pointed out. "Not that are ready to go now."
"Well, that's the whole point, isn't it?" I replied. "If there was somebody else able to do the job, I'd let them. But there isn't."
We both paused, thinking.
"Besides," I offered, "you don't think they're that stupid to make an example of me, do you?"
He looked at me and shook his head.
"Yeah, I do. They ARE that stupid."
Here's the conundrum for the ATF under the regime of the Obamanoids:
a. On the one hand, they know that they will face no rigorous oversight if they try to pull another Waco, on me or anybody else. On the other hand, they cannot predict what the reaction of the armed citizenry will be, especially that of the Three Percenters. They may despise us and pooh pooh us as a countervailing threat, BUT THEY CANNOT BE SURE.
b. On the one hand, they really hate what I and some of my friends are doing to them and saying about them. Not that we are breaking the law, mind you, just that we are pointing out how THEY are breaking the law. On the other hand, if they DO anything about that they will just spread our message farther and wider.
Here's the plain facts of it. My website gets only 2 to 3 thousand hits a day, sometimes less. In Internet terms, why should that bother them? It's nothing. Miniscule in the grand scheme of things. Yet we know, from various sources, that it does, greatly.
Because they cannot abide, personally and institutionally, citizens standing up to them, unafraid. It sets a bad example for the other people they try to bully. While tactically they can concentrate enough strength to botch a dynamic entry raid a la Waco (where they backed away without ammo, with their hands in the air, at the Davidians' sufferance), strategically they have always been a big, bad bluff -- "Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain!" Numerically, when compared to even three percent of American gun owners, it is THEY who are statistically insignificant.
That is their PRIMAL fear -- that one day the ants will figure out that they outnumber the grasshoppers a hundred to one, even a thousand to one, and if even a fraction of us act together, their bully-boy gravy train, the possibility of their cushy retirement, even, perhaps, they themselves, WILL CEASE TO EXIST.
I think, I hope, that they understand that, as I told Eric Holder, "there are no more free Wacos." I hope they understand, as one ex-Marine Corps scout sniper promised, when the heads begin to be collected, mine will not be the only one.
A smart chess player, especially playing on a board with flesh and blood pieces, one of which is his own, will, when confronted with a gambit, decline to be stupid. He might even consider the board, look at the cost, and be willing to call it a draw.
That is my hope.
That is, indeed, my prayer.
But if they are determined that the game must begin, I want them to make the worst mistake possible. I am willing to risk the gambit. If they take it, they will lose in the end.
That is why I do what I do.
So, to whom it may concern:
The alleged leader of a merry band of Three Percenters.