Years ago, I dreamed of growing up a trust funder with unlimited family money, because then I could adopt a leftist cause and chant protest songs at environmental rallies when I wasn’t skiing the Rockies or tanning on the Mexican Rivera. With my family trust fund safely offshore in tax free shelters, I could also be a public champion of the poor and demand tax increases on the rich so as to promise universal free stuff for the little people. Unfortunately, I snapped back to reality every time Dad started his pickup.

The ranch had an old, worn out, 1984 Toyota too unreliable for ranch chores, but Dad rattled down the county road in it for several years. Jiggling around in the bed of the pickup was an old gin bottle filled with gasoline Dad used to prime the old girl to life. (Attention politically correct readers: “Old girl” is a term of endearment referring to the Toyota; Mom actually refused to ride in the pickup.) Before turning the key, Dad would pop the hood, wedge it open with an old broomstick, unscrew the wing nut on the air breather and pour a shot glass of gin down the carburetor. If he quickly hopped in the cab and turned the key the engine would roar. Dad was rarely quick.

Upon further reflection, I realized my only hope of becoming independently wealthy was to earn it; something the left teaches us is simply not fair. Hence, I earned my veterinary degree, started a family, opened my practice and enjoyed a great life until 2006 when I accepted the argument it was my obligation to enter public service. I tossed my hat in the ring to represent House District 58 in the Montana legislature and won by a whopping margin of three votes. After my first term in Helena, I learned my four month absence from my veterinary practice proved politics was my second worst business decision ever. Adding insult to injury, last week I discovered my approach to politics was all wrong too. Here is why.

Since March 2006 I have published 312 weekly columns, plus my first book, exposing who I am, what I think and what I am going to do. To stimulate thought and debate, I expose readers to current topics from a conservative, constitutional perspective—something purposely vacant in conventional media. Political experts advise against this and instead recommended I abandon my convictions, balance in the middle of the road, and just smile and wave a lot. I just could not do that—it made me feel like I was running for rodeo queen. (Attention rabid leftists propagating e-mail alerts: Even though they are both mentioned in the same column, in no way am I comparing rodeo queens to gin bottles rolling around in the back of an ’84 Toyota.)

Here is a recent example how polished politicians handle a campaign. Last week, in South Korea, unaware his microphone was live, President Obama whispered to Russian President Medvedev, “On all these issues, but particularly missile defense…give me space. After my election I have more flexibility.” Mr. Obama is truly a master at his craft, but he makes me bang my head on the table. Politicians lie and spread half truths because you reward them for it. Upon further reflection I now admit two things: I will never be a trust funder and I simply refuse to be a politician.