Back in the day, this full auto submachine gun was less “precision instrument” and more like “spray and pray personality disorder.” It looked mean, sounded meaner and had the charming habit of jamming right when things were getting interesting. Accuracy was more of a suggestion than a feature, with bullets enthusiastically exploring nearby zip codes instead of the intended target. Still, people loved it because nothing says confidence like a gun that rattles like a shopping cart, kicks like a mule and occasionally decides it needs a nap mid-magazine. A beautifully flawed icon of chaotic old school firepower.
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