Call it what you will.

It was a deranged man.

It was a terrorist.

It was an angry, dangerous gang-banger.

The fact is, it kills. It abandons its humanity and takes with it a bunch of people, destroys a lot of families.

It is not a he or she. It becomes a thing with a gun that is designed to kill people  — not animals, not zombies. Like a parasite, the gun-to-kill-a-lot-of-people just needs a host.

It’s easy to identify the parasite — sleek metal with a trigger, lots of bullets, and it sprays  brass. It is not so easty to identify the host until it’s too late. It could be anyone now — rich, poor, middle class, young, old, white, not white. You can’t look at them and know. If you think you can, you’re lying to all of us, which is our way, of course. Pick a group to blame so the rest can ignore what we can control. Do nothing, because no single something will fix everything.

What does a mentally ill person look like? Do they drool? Do they hide in corners muttering to themselves. How are we going to find all these people in time to stop them? Does seasonal affective disorder make people a national threat?

Before they kill, how do you identify a terrorist?

Are they non-white?
Do they wear scarves on their heads? My grandmother wore a scarf over her hair, apparently to keep it in place. I don’t know why exactly. My name is BALDus, what do I know about hair?

Do they wear robes — white ones or black ones  — accessorized with  pointy or balled up headgear?

How  about a gangster? Will they be in all black? Will they have tattoos?

Julia Roberts has tattoos, so does LeBron James.

This is absolutely insane. When I was a kid, we played “guns” and had a great time “shooting” each other and dramatically “dying.” Then came the day when we stepped it up. Some guys got pellet guns. I pulled out my wrist rocket. We went into the woods. I left picking pellets out of wherever I had exposed skin.

As a gang, we went back to jumping bikes.

Guns did not go away. Some of those guys got into gun sports, hunting — tests of skill. Guns simply outgrew our games, and we were smart enough to know that — granted it took  loading me up with pellets. I didn’t claim we were the sharpest kids.

Today, as a nation, we haven’t figured that out even though we have seen too much death.

We know we can identify the parasite, but not necessarily the host. We know there are things we, together, can control.

I love my family, friends and communities. Please don’t let any of us die in a massacre.

Contact Managing Editor Chris Baldus at chris.baldus@austindailyherald.com