While we’re at it, how about that cannon?

Published 8:45 am Friday, March 31, 2017

Arkansas, the same state that invented the Walmart shopper, has come up with plan — a signed law, actually — that would arm the fans at Reynolds Razorback Stadium.

What could go wrong there?

And, by “arm,” yes, we are talking about loaded weapons among the fandom — in the case of Razorback Stadium, some 72,000 of them.

Sounds like a good … Wait! What!? Where!?

Perhaps there was a fear that squirrel season would break out in the middle of the third quarter and catch Razorback fans unaware.

Otherwise … huh?

This isn’t about the Second Amendment and anybody’s right to bear arms.

You specifically can’t take an umbrella into Razorback Stadium — it’s considered too dangerous. Plastic beer bottles were invented just for stadiums because flying aluminum is too risky. But under this new law you could strap a .357 magnum under your hog hat, just in case.

Woo, pig, souiee … Go ahead, make my day!

Cooler heads will likely prevail, hopefully before the next kickoff.

A hastily constructed amendment, already approved by the Arkansas Senate, would exempt public stadiums and sporting events from the wide-ranging law, which made it legal to carry concealed weapons on publicly owned property, including campus.

It’s now up to the Arkansas House of Representatives to pass the amendment.

It would also exempt the University of Arkansas Medical Center, which at least has an emergency room handy.

There’s a catch in the law as is.

You would still need a license to carry this concealed weapon, and getting that license would require eight hours of training, which hopefully is eight hours of learning to keep the safety on rather than just some more target practice.

It does, of course, apply only to concealed weapons. Most agree that the snout of the famed plastic hog hat would be an excellent concealment spot, right next to the flask in the pig snout.

Otherwise, without the amendment, you just turned the student section into a volunteer militia.

The Southeastern Conference office apparently needed smelling salts when it got word of this.

The conference would have to draw straws to see which officials got the assignments for Arkansas home games.

How many opposing running backs would ever see 150 yards … or their 21st birthday?

How wide open would a wide receiver really want to get?

How long would it be before firing pistols in the air, Wild-West style, become a postgame tradition.

The SEC, Sun Belt and Southland are keeping their eyes on it.

While, we’re at it, it would be OK with me if the SEC also banned heavy artillery, such as cannons.

I hesitate on this one because it’s a long-standing Texas A&M tradition, and if nothing else, those Aggies are all about long-standing traditions.

I have also noticed that A&M has softened a bit in the years since LSU played there in the late 1980s, early 1990s, to when the Aggies joined the SEC just this decade.

It’s one of the friendlier, more tranquil tailgate scenes you’ll come across these days, much to the chagrin, I’m guessing, to some of the old-time hardliners.

Back in the day, for the pregame scene, you always got the feeling you’d wandered into a full-scale military coup.

Whole lot of marching in procession. You’d swear you were under martial law.

One of their brood once pulled a sword on an SMU cheerleader who’d wandered onto the hallowed postgame turf.

But the centerpiece is the World War I-era cannon in the corner of the end zone.

If they want to get rid of that weapon of mass concussion, it would be OK with me.

I was slow to catch on to its significance.

My first trip there, LSU won 17-3 and, though it certainly annoyed the home crowd, all was fairly peaceful.

But it’s not a good place to get beat 45-7.

The mighty gun fires every time the Aggies score a touchdown.

My guess is that it’s firing blanks, but in any case, if there are actual mortars they would land somewhere in South America.

But the noise, the tremors … My guess is that it rattles the windows all the way to Corpus Christi.

Anyway, in 1991, the Aggies were beating the whey out Curley Hallman’s LSU and most everybody within two time zones was pretty well shell-shocked by halftime.

As is the custom, in the game’s waning moments I had exited the press box, made my way down, and was about to cross behind the far end zone to get to LSU’s dressing quarters for a postgame explanation of it all.

It was at that point that I realized that I was no more than 20 feet from the foul howitzer and that the Aggies, once again deep in LSU territory, were driving for yet another sonic-boom touchdown.

Panic set in. I froze in my tracks.

I was just about to make a run for it when, much to my relief, A&M starting taking a knee to run out the clock.

So I relaxed and let my guard down … unaware that they also delight in firing that thing at the end of victories.

Ka-BOOM.

My ears are still ringing to this day.

Now, about those cowbells …