I own a musket for home defense, since that’s what the Founders intended.
Four ruffians invade my home.
“What the Devil!?” as I grab my powdered wig and Kentucky Rifle. Blow a golf ball sized hole through the first chap, he’s dead on the spot. Draw my pistol on the second bandit, miss him entirely because it’s smooth-bore and nail the neighbor’s dog instead.
“Apologies, mate!” I shall have to resort to the cannon mounted at the top of the stairs loaded with grape shot.
“Tally ho, lads!!!” the grape shot shreds two men in the blast, the concussion and extra shrapnel set off car alarms.
Fix bayonet and charge the last of the terrified rapscallions! He bleeds out waiting for the police to arrive since triangular bayonet wounds are impossible to stitch up.
Just as the Founding Fathers intended. Right-o!