No one really likes a loud gun. Not the shooter, not the bystander, not the landowner across the fence. It’s jarring, disorienting, and exhausting over time. But we justify it.

We say, “It’s part of the experience.” We say, “It’s not that bad.” We say, “It’s my right.”

But what we don’t say—what we avoid saying—is this: “It’s avoidable, but it costs money.”

Suppressors, subsonic ammo, ear protection for everyone around you—it adds up. And no one wants to talk about that part, because the gun was already a luxury item. Adding more to be considerate? That feels like an optional burden. So we pretend the noise is fine. We make it part of the culture. We normalize harm because facing it would mean spending more, doing more, and admitting we’re not the only ones affected.

And this mindset doesn’t stop at the range. • Airports keep expanding flight hours while residents lose sleep—because rerouting costs money. • Cars keep getting bigger and louder, while the air quality gets worse—because electric conversions are expensive. • Corporations pollute quietly across borders—because cleaning up isn’t in the budget this quarter.

In every case, the externality is ignored because fixing it is inconvenient, costly, and undermines the illusion that we’re already doing enough.

We tell ourselves we don’t need to suppress, soften, or consider. Because if we did, we’d have to admit that luxury without restraint becomes a burden on everyone else.

True responsibility isn’t just about what you can afford—it’s about what you’re willing to pay to reduce your impact.

So whether it’s your gun, your business, or your daily decisions: If it’s loud, ask why—and who else is absorbing the cost. Because pretending something doesn’t hurt people just because you like it?

That’s the loudest thing of all.