…I want to kill people. I carry a gun to keep from being killed.
…I want to scare people. I carry a gun, because sometimes the world is a scary place.
…I am paranoid. I carry a gun, because there are real threats in the world.
…I am evil. I carry a gun, because I have lived long enough to see evil.
…I hate the government. I carry a gun, because I understand the limitations of government.
…I am angry. I carry a gun so that I do not have to spend the rest of my life hating myself for being unprepared.
…I want to shoot someone. I carry a gun, because I want to die at a ripe old age in my bed, not on a sidewalk.
…I am a cowboy. I carry a gun, because, when I die and go to Heaven, I want to be a cowboy.
…I want to feel like a man. I carry a gun, because real men know how to take care of themselves and their loved-ones.
…I feel inadequate. I carry a gun; because, unarmed against thugs, I am inadequate.
…I love it. I carry a gun, because I love life and the people who make it meaningful to me.
I’ve developed a whole new spiel since I’ve acquired this (hopefully temporary) partially-paralyzed leg: “Can’t run, taekwando is out of the question; too young to die and too old to take an ass-kicking.”