Establishment Republicans, the media, and others have argued that the use of the talking filibuster amounts to breaking the Senate’s tradition of deliberation and its 60-vote threshold. This could not be further from the case.

Let’s unpack this with a dash of Senate history that the chattering class conveniently forgets. The modern 60-vote cloture rule, born in 1975 from reforms to curb endless obstruction, was never the sacred cow it’s portrayed as—before that, filibusters required senators to hold the floor with actual talking, not just a threat. Strom Thurmond’s 24-hour marathon against the 1957 Civil Rights Act? That’s the real talking filibuster, a grueling test of endurance that forced real deliberation. Today’s procedural filibuster is a lazy invention, letting a single senator freeze the chamber without breaking a sweat. Claiming a return to talking filibusters breaks tradition is like saying marathons ruin casual jogging—it’s not disruption; it’s restoring grit to a body that’s grown soft on supermajority myths.

For the 2A community, this is gold. Gun controllers love hiding behind the 60-vote shield to block reforms or push incremental erosions like assault weapon bans, knowing one holdout can kill pro-rights bills dead. A talking filibuster flips the script: let Schumer or his squad try yakking for hours against national reciprocity or hearing protection deregulation. We’ve seen it work—Rand Paul’s epic stands have spotlighted issues and worn down opponents. Reviving this forces accountability, shining a brutal light on anti-2A crusaders who can’t sustain their rhetoric. In a polarized Senate, it empowers the minority (often us) to demand real debate, not procedural games. The implication? 2A wins when deliberation is genuine, not a filibuster facsimile—time to make ’em talk, or walk.