ERIC FRANK RUSSEL’S classic SF work on monkey warfare, The Wasp, I want to put forth this brain fart.
Certain restaurants, stores, and other merchants have, in sundry jurisdictions, elected to post their premises as being off-limits to bearers of guns. (Well, of the guns themselves, but — in case you hadn’t noticed — guns don’t got legs.)
Fair enough. I contend that their actions amount to a violation of civil rights, but for the nonce, they have the lawful privilege to do so. And those opposed have the right to withhold their custom and comment to one another on that.
But — and this is the brain fart — there is another avenue for comment.
These places are ringed around with telephone poles, whereupon it has become the custom to post bills. Concert notices, rave flyers, band stickers, and other nonsensicalia.
Seems to me a small-ish sticker, with an aggressive adhesive, on a durable substrate, could be added to the collage:
Notice to predators: This is a victim disarmament zone. Your prey are helpless. Come on in!
Purely as a matter of social comment, mind you.