Wrangling
horses is unfamiliar to most people, so only a fool
would use it to make a political analogy; something
this fool is about to do. Because most American
horses live on small acreages the wrangling process
consists of shaking a bucket of grain and getting
the heck out of the way. Like indoctrinating
subjects with free stuff, the horses charge into the
corral oblivious to what happens next. (I could make
my analogy right here, but my big point comes
later.) A dwindling number of ranches still ride one
horse to gather the others and in my experience it
is always an all-out horse race. The more rugged the
pasture and the ranker the ponies, the more
dangerous the gather, so fathers wisely advise young
cowboys to never attempt wrangling horses bareback
using only a halter. Unfortunately, every cowboy
forgets this advice one time in their lives and my
mistake came on a wintery March day in the early
‘70s.
The impending ice age was the progressive hoax of
the day and the hills above our Wyoming ranch were
drifted with snow. Carrying a bucket of grain I
figured I’d catch one horse, saddle him back at the
barn and then gather the others. I spent an hour
circumventing drifted brush patches in the knee deep
snow before catching my mount at the very top of the
highest hill nearly a mile from the barn. It was
decision time. The thought of trudging back through
the snow down to the barn was not appealing, so I
fashioned the halter rope into a set of roping reins
and hopped on bareback. “Heck,” I thought. “So I
don’t have to do this twice, I’ll just chase all the
ponies in as I go.” I circled behind the horses and
gave a holler, triggering a horse stampede. This was
the most foolish thing I had ever done…so far. (When
measured on the stupid scale, recent decisions such
as entering politics are far worse than wrangling
horses bareback.)
The next ten minutes were a continuous snow-white
blur punctuated with brown chokecherry patches. We
were down the hill, up the hill, over the hill and
through the hill. I thought about abandoning ship,
but the foothills are so boulder strewn a soft
landing was in question. On the third pass, the
leads took the corral; I jumped off, shut the gate
and vowed I would never, ever do that again. Spoken
fatherly advice is generally sound, but easily
forgotten, so if our founding fathers thought a
point so important they actually wrote it down, is
it not in our best interest we adhere to it? Here is
what I mean.
In America’s birth certificate, our Declaration of
Independence, Thomas Jefferson clearly states our
rights came from God and government only functions
to secure those rights. (Commit this concept to
memory, because this defines what it means to be an
American.) Two recent news events reveal this truth
is being progressively and purposely replaced with a
lie. Early last week, in a CNN broadcast, a Democrat
activist chastised VP candidate Paul Ryan for
stating our rights came from God. “Maybe the rights
of rich white men,” she whined, “but for the rest of
us, our rights come from government.”
Later in the week, when Los Angeles Mayor
Villaraigosa was chairing the Democrat National
Committee platform convention, the inserted language
containing the phrase “God-given potential” was
booed by floor delegates. For the sake of their
souls, I will assume they were expressing
disagreement with the origin of rights rather than
with God Himself.
Progressives purposely claim government gives you
your rights for the simple reason the freedom to
speak, assemble, bear arms, or worship can then be
either protected or prohibited depending on a simple
show of hands; the truly frightening and unstable
arrangement inherent in a democracy. If the 56
patriots who signed our Declaration of Independence
were willing to risk their “lives, fortunes and
sacred honor” stating God and not government as the
origin of rights, is it not prudent we heed their
advice? After all, it is written down. Think about
it.
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