Writing,poetry,photography, animals,nature,politics and the vagaries of a wandering mind.
Monday, February 11, 2013
Saturday, November 24, 2012
FROM KREYTON KERNS - NOW WHAT (MONTANA, THIS IS FOR YOU)
Ramblings - Now what?
With a thundering whump and a grunt, Clifford flipped over backwards and assumed the "dead dog" position. I swung off my horse and scrambled across the steep mountainside to the site of the impact. This was not Clifford's first pack string accident, and he moaned softly as if he were enjoying a good nap. Most normal horses would thrash when trapped upside down, but not Clifford. He was NOT normal.
Adept horsemen choose ponies after carefully studying pedigrees and performance. I chose Clifford, a massive Belgian draft horse, not because he hailed from superior stock, but because his lady owner was trapped in an abusive relationship and needed $800 for a one-way plane ticket back to Florida. At least, such was the story I bought along with Clifford. (See, even we evil conservative Republicans have hearts bigger than our brains. If I was a progressive, I would have used the power of government to force someone else to buy Clifford, all the while feeling charitable nonetheless.)
Clifford was tied to an apple tree on the south side of Laurel, when I handed over the check and led him to my horse trailer. He stood an amazing 19 hands (76 inches) and had the frame to carry a full ton of flesh if we could ever feed him enough to fill it. He did not exactly fit my string, but he so pegged the novelty meter that I gave him a try.
On this particular day, we were about 10 miles into a 12-mile pack and had just forded the Little Horn River at Robinson Crossing. The final quarter-mile climb to the Little Horn Parks is unmercifully steep, and the intermittent trail meandering through the timber is pocked by rockslides and downfall. Packers cautiously snake their strings back and forth up the mountainside enroute to the top. Agile does not describe Belgians, and Clifford hit a switchback too tight to turn his massive frame, so over he went. When the thunder stopped, his uphill legs were trapped under a log, and the shady side of his belly was now sunny side up. He was too big to just roll him over, but if we left him there, he would surely die, and I thought, "Now what do I do?" This brings me to my point.
A very tiny majority of 62 million voters have flipped our American republic upside down, and just like Clifford, if we leave her there, she will surely die. Over the next four years, in addition to bankrupting us, President Obama may appoint three progressive Supreme Court Justices, who will destroy our Constitution. Suddenly, our right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness will come from government rather than God and, thus, can be bequeathed or revoked at the whims of the ruling class. Apparently, 62 million Americans are perfectly fine with this, but I am not, and this may be the hill upon which I die.
The 2014 mid-term election is our last chance to elect a conservative majority in the US Senate so as to block the confirmation of progressive judges. It is the final battle in our war for re-independence. If you have been politically active, perhaps you have not been active enough. We have two years to erase 100 years of indoctrination and re-ignite liberty's torch because today's Americans are so obsessed with freebies that they are clueless about freedom. The Republicans elected into Montana's legislature may identify themselves as small government conservatives, yet their voting records are more consistent with the principles of Marx than those of Jefferson, Adams, or Madison. We have much work to do. On November 16, I spoke to a newly formed group of patriots in the small town of Shelby, Montana. My next keynote address is in Great Falls on January 18, so I have openings in my schedule to stir the pot - your pot. What say you?
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
So read it, and then go to Tom Purcell's excellent conversation piece. Sort of grounds you immediately.
Downward Wisconsin
Unfortunate reality (TV)
Sunday, November 20, 2011
Tom Purcell, a freelance writer who lives in Library, can be reached via e-mail at Tom@TomPurcell.com. Visit him at www.TomPurcell.com.
Do you know what I want to be when I grow up, Daddy?
I am so proud of my little girl. You want to be a doctor? Or maybe a medical researcher?
Don't be silly, Daddy. I want to be a reality-TV star.
Huh?
I have it all figured out. First I'll make a sex tape with my boyfriend -- preferably a professional athlete -- and then I'll make sure somebody steals it and makes it public.
A WHAT kind of tape?
I'll pretend to be embarrassed, of course. That will help me win a multimillion-dollar settlement -- and the ensuing publicity will launch my reality-TV career.
But, honey, what about your mother?
Not to worry, Daddy. Mom will be involved. I'll get the whole family involved. After all, I need bit players to create conflict and good drama. You'll play the role of a prudish father.
But I AM a prudish father!
Oh, Daddy, you need to get with the times. America is much different than it was when you grew up. In the old days, people had to work boring jobs and produce some tangible value to get paid. Now all we need to do is be pretty and famous.
But your mother and I don't want a camera crew following us around in our home. We don't want our private lives broadcast for the world to see.
You are such a fuddy-duddy, Daddy. Look, most of our show will be fake anyhow. We'll make up family problems and pretend to solve them. It's like acting.
But it is NOT acting. Real actors are committed to their craft and study for years to evoke emotions and truths that help others better understand humanity.
You are SO 1970s, Daddy. In the modern era, all you need to do is present a made-up story that captures people's attention and the ratings will soar. Then you get to hobnob with rich and famous people, live in big houses, drive nice cars and wear expensive clothes.
But I want my daughter to have wealth of spirit, not of material things!
You'll change your mind once our brand is established. The endorsements will roll in. We'll be rich beyond belief.
Honey, do you remember where your mother hid the bourbon?
I'll get an offer to do a spread in Playboy and meet lots more professional athletes hanging out at Hef's mansion. I'll marry one, too. Our multimillion-dollar wedding will be broadcast for all the world to see!
But your wedding should be a private affair for your family and closest friends! Privacy is a precious, wonderful thing.
I know what you're thinking, Daddy: that the obsession with wealth and fame among America's young people is a troubling turn of events. Fewer kids want to study to be doctors or engineers. They want to be rich and famous and superficial -- just like the reality-TV stars.
That's right, honey. Your mother and I want you to find meaning and purpose in life. We want you to be a good citizen. We want you to find a career that helps others. We want you to have a family and know deep, lasting love and happiness -- not just superficial wealth and fame.
Oh, Daddy, I can't help that that is what I want to be when I grow up. It's what lots of young Americans want nowadays. You're going to have to get used to it.
But, but --
But what, Daddy?
But you're only 5!
Read more: Unfortunate reality (TV) - Pittsburgh Tribune-Review http://www.pittsburghlive.com/x/pittsburghtrib/opinion/columnists/purcell/s_768087.html#ixzz1eajDUvjR