Jean Paul Sartre must have been fun at parties. But then who isn’t? I’ve been known to regale guests at swanky soirees with stories of home invasions, armed robberies, police shootings gone bad and concealed carry killers. During these ballistic BS sessions, I get a large number of “you’ve got pin lice on your eyebrows” looks. I’ve taken to calling my antagonists I-NOGs. “I would never own a gun,” they tell me, as if that settles the matter. For both them and me. Which is how Rhode Island got to be a “never-issue” states. I digress . . .
