The Virtual Constitution

 

Planting Potatoes

The Virtual Constitution

The War of Words

By Stephen L. Wilmeth

  

            California before the avalanche of modern circus acts can be described as a collective condition of awe.

            An example is the universe of spring potatoes in the Edison area of Kern County. The Golden Empire got its name from the striking color of gold that spreads out across the landscape when the temperature starts approaching the century mark and the last of the Pacific storms ends for the season, but, before that happens, the season of wonder arrives. That is when the hillsides are as green as Ireland, the Sierras are rimmed with snow, and the rare clear mornings sparkle like glass.

            A real-life Camelot is one comparison assessed by the uninformed.

            Down in the southeast corner of the Central Valley, the potato fields are growing as green as the nearby emerald mountain slopes. It is there the nation’s first fresh potatoes of the year are grown and harvested. That sandy loam soil is like a bank of promises that keeps on giving as long as there are the men and women who have learned how to perform the art of farming.

            Their forefathers just didn’t arrive and start performing their magic, either. The process took years, fortunes were made and lost, and success came only through diligence and the span of lifetimes. Camelot didn’t exist in the trenches. Where success took root and grew, it was earned.

            Our country is no different.

            The Virtual constitution

            If nothing else, the past week has reminded us our national leadership is based solely on division.

            There is no binding article of agreement. The conflict of good and evil is fully on display. Further, the use of the concept of Constitution has long been arbitrary and merely metaphoric. The reference is used only as a password. It is only an admission, a token, or a password of acceptance into the game of politics that exists based on departure from those roots that were once conceived and fought for in defense.

            What is in play is the growing influence of the virtual constitution.

            It is not yet a printed document. Rather, it is the evolving forum that local progressives get together and discuss once a month. The topics have no order nor any limitation in scope. The only rule is the limit of description offered by any attendant in a two-minute discourse.

            Their governing body is either self or strategically appointed and no term limits are imposed.

            The ground rules regarding the length and breadth of action are aligned along three general themes. These consist of the promotion of social and economic justice, political equality, and environmental stewardship.

            Further, the command force is fully deplored and in place including the propaganda ministry. The press usually has a representative in the monthly meetings. He or she is a manicured feature.

            The rest of us are being caught flat footed and oblivious, or so it seems.

            The War of Words

            As a nation, none of us should be happy.

            The virtual constitution and 92% of all words contributed by the tethered press are succeeding in overthrowing the only apolitical force since George Washington. Of course, half the citizenry will never comprehend that, but it is reality.

            The nation will apparently be led by the handlers of a tottering old man who, indeed, once knew a lot about getting back to negotiating contracts. The question for whom those contracts are intended remains to be seen, but simple fact looms. The current War of Words has been lost.

            The grand analogy, though, is simply too ripe to pass.

During the recent, extended election season extravaganza, a local Dona Ana County nail polisher posted a rendition of hatred for the sitting president in perfect harmony with most of the remaining local poison. In conclusion, the point was made she would vote for a potato before she would vote for the current leader.

            Knowing her deceased husband would turn over in his grave if she expressed such a slanderous outburst when he was head of the household, a smile was nonetheless automatic. His departure has culminated in his former spouse reaching the pinnacle of her intellectual independence with her decision to vote for the potato.

            There are clear indications, though, her choice may well have been the one potato that should have been sorted off the line and diverted into the cull bin … for cattle feed. 

            Stephen L. Wilmeth is a rancher from southern New Mexico.