The FurReal Ponies always kind of creeped me out, but I never wanted this to happen to them.

Fear not, internet rabble, I know that this will be talk-soup fodder for the flapping politicos and poo-slinging pundits about perceptions of saftey, risk, and freedom. But all of that conversation misses the point.
The point, my dearest friend, is this: Some cops like to blow shit up. Municipalities spend tons of money getting their departments outfitted with Go-Go Gadget thingamajigs so when they have the slightest inclination to get to blow shit up, they're prepared. And we pay for it happily because we're terrified of kidnapping, terrorists, snipers, dangerous strangers and drugs. And robots that interrogate toy ponies seem like a pretty good investment in preventing terrorists, snipers, dangerous strangers, and drugs from getting at our kids.

So, instead of worrying about (and therefore spending money on) the things that, you know, might actually happen, we have a nation patrolled by hopeful cowboys ready to blow up a toy pony at the drop of a hat. In the name of security.

But heaven forfend municipalities pump some extra money into their enforcement department's coffers to run some extra shifts patrolling a dangerous intersection or helping a social worker coordinate with a kid in trouble's family.

But blow shit up? Hells yeah, we do that.