Weekly Posting of the Conservative Cow Doctor


    Uncontrolled Urges      

The deferred maintenance projects at my ranch in Wyoming are killing me.  This summer, we trenched eight-foot deep footing drains around the house and replaced water lines, pressure tanks and pumps supplying the outbuildings.  We could have postponed rebuilding the sun decks and stairs had my nephew and his fiancée chosen a venue other than the family homestead for their Labor Day wedding.  The newlyweds will be living in the apartment above the garage, once I finally hook up the water. 

In early August, the entire yard looked more like the trenches of World War I during a drought than the Pass Creek foothills.  Amazingly, the bride and groom seemed oblivious it appeared they had scheduled their celebration at the gates of hell.  As I knelt in the bottom of a trench replacing the well foot-valve, Cathryn, the bride, walked by carrying a bucket-full of dead flies and mouse droppings harvested from her soon-to-be first home.  “Good morning,” she chirped.  My mouth fell open.  As she cheerfully skipped back to the apartment to re-fill her bucket I wondered if nephew Taylor understood he was about to score a trophy wife.  

I tell you this so you understand the pressure I was shouldering.  With the wedding one week away, we frantically poured a concrete pad at the bottom of the deck stairs.  Sensing we were behind schedule, Liam, my four-year-old grandson, jumped in to help.  There are those special grandfathers who always interact with their grandchildren in a positive, instructive manner, but none of those were available.  The terms of endearment from this cranky old veterinarian were limited to “No!” “Get back!” and “Drop that!”  

We finished the pour and while the concrete cured, we worked on the bannisters.  A few minutes later, I glanced over my shoulder and spotted Liam re-troweling our fresh concrete.  “Liam!” I screamed.  He froze, dropped his trowel and his lower lip began quivering.  Without a word, he slunk to the Bobcat bucket, collapsed and cried.  I felt bad.  His dad went to console him and I turned back to the railing.  Five minutes later, Liam recovered and began using a stick to poke holes in the backside of the hardening concrete.  I shook my head in defeat and this brings me to my point. 

Ruling class politicians are as obsessed with shoveling money from the treasury as four-year-olds are with wet concrete. American citizens contributed a record 1.48 trillion tax dollars the first half of FY 2016, yet it was not enough and it will never be.  A progressive politician’s power comes from spending money and they have spent 20 trillion dollars more than they had in the treasury.  Vote your checkbook.  


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