Marx, the Messenger
Dissent
First Gear
By Stephen L. Wilmeth
In the
midst of the early morning rain, the cacophony of stimuli was overwhelming.
Being
alone was not just welcome it was preferred. It had started coming in from the
highway trying to decipher the sign left by somebody who had come in earlier
but arrived before the heaviest rain had fallen. That result suggested the
doppler summary reviewed at 4:30 had been superseded by continuing events.
Maybe the rain accumulation was greater than expected, and that proved to be
the case.
Thank
you, Lord.
Arriving
at the headquarters, the bulls in the corral were first checked. The slicker
was in the cantle bag laying on the backseat of the pickup, but the thought of
pulling it out was discounted. By then, the rain wasn’t that hard and the
thought of it against the backdrop of this endless summer made it seem proper
to simply join it.
So, a walk in the rain was the
decision.
The gate on the east side of the
barn was the access. The bulls watched intently knowing he who was now among
them normally carried a sack of cake. They were quiet and that, in itself,
suggested only more of the same.
For
reasons most obvious to those who understand Tyson’s love for old corrals, though,
the addition of fresh rain only added to the allure and the moment. The bulls
were made to move and turn. Satisfied that these old fellows were mending
enough from the input of better groceries to turn them out until shipping time
was the conclusion.
A
hundred other thoughts demanded a turn for attention. It was the rain, though,
that kept interrupting. It demanded its time. It beckoned.
The response was to give in and simply
turn to it and smell it in the breeze. The appeal was spiritual.
Feel it against burned summer skin,
and, yes, … taste it.
First
Gear
The
Dutch farmers have had enough. They are tired of their ensconced public servants
assuming the role of self-appointed masters. Jefferson warned them about it
when he warned us.
Human
nature is the same on every side of the Atlantic, he said.
The public money and public
liberty … will soon be discovered to be sources of wealth and dominion to those
who hold them, he continued.
So, the Dutch farmers have fired
up their tractors and taken to the highways and byways of their country. One
day this past week it was reported they disrupted traffic on 700 miles of roads
while driving in formation in second gear.
Our
Founders had a name for the assumption of ultimate and complete power by
elected and unelected officials. It was elective despotism. It was to be
avoided at all costs including making even lower level government jobs only
temporary. Jobs were not lifetime
assignments. Continuing service required occasional reapplication.
That is
unfathomable today.
In fact,
the federal government has long erased any role of original, intended protector
of individual rights. Rather, it is a gargantuan institution of collectivism to
protect the economic interests of the most powerful.
The
unelected, extra constitutional branches of government must be added to that
list of most powerful. How else can the likes of the SEC or the EPA be
explained? They make rules as if they are a legislative branch. They administer
their rules like the executive branch, and they adjudicate and punish
nonconformists like the judiciary.
It is no
different in the Netherlands where the tractor drivers are sick and tired of
being accused of violating rules of an illicit, make believe public hoax, global
warming. Since they don’t have any vested, sovereign representation on their
own behalf in a leading democracy, they have elected to switch gears and drive.
Maybe their movement should be named.
First Gear has a better, universally
patriotic ring.
Marx,
the Messenger
The real
lesson surrounding Marx is not all the intellectual BS that is attributed to
his sorry life. The real lesson is his inability to find what he was looking
for. He was never satisfied and that equated into his inability to find peace
within his own being.
He was
never content.
His
religious quest was the biggest indicator. First, he was a Jew with all the
fringe benefits thereof. That included entre into the best schools, association
with the greatest minds, and exemption from having to labor for any of it.
Somehow that didn’t work for him and all his inner calamity could conjure up
was selfish belief of societal unfairness. He needed more.
He briefly turned to
Christianity.
Suggestions are he wrote
beautiful prose about the faith (trying to find any of them is an effort of
futility), but that didn’t work, either. Grace seemed to be at odds with his
superior being.
He became an atheist, but the
search for his model was difficult. Many observers suggest the Bible was always
sitting to close to his left elbow when he wrote his theories. Every one of his
baseline doctrines were inverse reflections of major Christian doctrines.
He was a compulsive fraud with
an inability to extend the bridge to his secret road map, which was that
Christian gift, grace.
He couldn’t elevate himself into
the seat of chief justice of anything, either.
As such, mere political
revolution wasn’t possible nor was social revolution. If he or anybody of his
stature couldn’t be ultimate head duck and lead the charge to spiritual Camelot
nobody could, but the quest must go forward. Anarchy was the only alternative
with islands of power needed to keep the miserable masses at bay and
conditionally pacified. That’s where we and our Dutch brothers find ourselves
today.
There is indeed a pool of
believers out there that comply fully with his graceless teachings.
Stephen
L. Wilmeth is a rancher from southern New Mexico. “Sagebrush is not our dance
partner with old corrals, but wet creosote is. Smelling it in a rain is its
only redeeming value.”
Ian Tyson - Old Corrals And Sagebrush
I like old corrals and sagebrush
Ponderosa pines
Cowgirls in old pickup trucks
Califonia wines
Ponderosa pines
Cowgirls in old pickup trucks
Califonia wines
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