There’s a herd of deer, twelve or fifteen at least, that like to shelter on the leeward side of my grove. It keeps them out of the icy northwestern wind. They also like to come into the yard after dark and eat corn spilt around the grain bins. I’m cool with that, I like deer, fried with a mess of onions, peppers and some home fried ‘taters is my favorite but it really doesn’t matter, live deer are basically food in free storage. I also understand how hard winter is in these parts, food’s hard to find in this frozen desert. I’m glad they like it here and I hope they come back for a little snack next fall during deer season. Xzina(zee-na), my eighty pound American Bulldog doesn’t feel the same way. In her mind she has two jobs here, eat all the food I buy and keep the place safe. She takes those two responsibilities seriously. According to Xzina’s General Orders the only animals allowed in the yard are humans, other approved dogs and flocks of birds smaller than three. Four birds in the same place are obviously cooking up some kind of conspiracy and will be charged and driven off. The same thing happens to the deer. I take her out with me everytime I go to have a cigarette. Its funny, when the deer see the door open they freeze, I try to move slow and smooth, non threatening, Xzina won’t even notice them till one of them moves then she’s off across the yard at top speed. She’ll chase them out into the field, once they cross the border of our little nation she turns around and comes back to report that everything is copacetic and maybe some praise and a little rubbin’ is in order.
When I was seven or eight I was allowed to stay up late on Friday and Saturday if there was a western movie on. John Wayne, Henry Fonda, Rowdy Yates and Josie Wales, CPT Gus McRae, they were my heroes. The lessons I learned at The Duke’s side only reinforced the lessons my parents tried to teach me. None of my childhood heroes, including my parents, put up with bullshit and their word was their bond. The reputation that comes with that is more rare and precious than diamonds. Both my father and my grandfather took time out of their days to tell me that my integrity could not be taken it could only be surrendered. There must have been a reason for that. Farmers don’t take time out of their day for no reason, its mission first with those folks. I’ve kept that in the back of my mind ever since, along with lots of the other things they instructed me in. I realized I’d grown up and become my father, without even trying, when I was in my early twenties and heard myself tell my three year old son “Quit’cher cryin’ before I give you somethin’ to cry about.” I fought it for a few years but it was hopeless, Dad’s genes had the reins. The genes run true, my oldest has grown up to be me, the poor bastard.
Put The Duke and his lessons in your kit bag and lets play some music and get political. This is a remarkably apropos little ditty by Corb Lund and Hayes Carll. It’s funny, its not very often Canadians can be funny, all the hate speech laws get in the way. Ladies and gentlemen I present “The Bible on the Dash.”
Democrats have been getting away with this for decades. They can’t actually put their hand on the good book and say what would Jesus do anymore, the resulting smoke and fire would draw attention, not mention hurt like hell. When is the last time you saw a democrat tell the truth? You probably didn’t realize but it was the night Hillary passed the fuck out while being escorted to her van. She slipped up and accidentally uttered a truth out loud through her lips. Fortunately it was a minuscule little truth that most people didn’t even notice and she survived. Any truth bigger would have put her in a coma or killed the old whore. If she told you the sun rises in the east she’d probably burst into flames.
Democrats or leftists or progressives or socialists or communists or whatever, they’re all the same liberty hating control freaks, they always lie. They lie about what their proposed legislation will do, “If you like your doctor you can keep your doctor.” They lie again when it fails, “Obamacare repeal will kill 500 Million Americans.”
It’s like asking Ozzy Osborne and Black Sabbath, “What kind of music do you boys play?”
“Christian music, Sir!”
I wanted to tell you that none of the traitorous bastards implicated in the Obama/Hillary/DNC/FBI/DOJ/CIA/NSA scandal had served in the US military. By my reckoning the US Army taught selfless service and loyalty. We believed the oath we swore meant something, just like John Wayne did. Lil’ Petey Strzok shot that right dead in the ass. That traitorous bastard served as a Commissioned Officer in the US Army. I was too heartbroken to find out what branch he was in, I just pray he wasn’t an Infantryman or a Paratrooper. Did you know that FBI Agents take the same oath I did when I joined the Service and each time I reenlisted? I took it four or five times, I had it memorized the first time. I never un-swore that oath, each beat of my heart still pulses with love for my country, as fucked up as our poor Nation is.
If I’ve seen John Wayne face down a mob lookin’ to hang a scumbag once, I’ve seen it a dozen times. A Nation MUST be a Nation of laws or its nothing, it’s not a nation, it’s a herd of sheep with the shearers waiting to fleece the herd. John Wayne always stood for the Rule of Law. I’m driven to light a torch and bring my neighbors and a rope to DC. It’s well past time people hung for their crimes against us. You remember us, the people who give their consent to be governed by a government “of the people for the people and by the people.” I won’t bear much more and I’m thinking Rooster Cogburn would be right there beside me, probably tyin’ the knot. “Fill your hands you son-of-a-bitch.”
Democrat politicians still try to muddy the waters, try to hide their own traitorous acts as well as those of the Obama administration. That brings to mind another old adage my parents and grandparents instilled me with, “You made your bed now sleep in it.” Or hang for it, that works for me.
As a Nation we used to know how to deal with this kind of filth. Paul Thorn remembers…
“Just knock him in the head, he’s better off dead, break his arms and throw him in the river, if anybody asks just tell ’em he committed suicide.”
As near as I can figure the difference between vengeance and justice is that my neighbors get a say in the punishment. I can find a shitload of neighbors who say the same thing I’m sayin. I demand some justice. If the rest of the nation won’t demand it then I guess we’ll just go on down the river.