With all we have goin’ on these days I’m reluctant to take time to comment on current events, even briefly, unless it’s something significant. But when the current occupant of the Oval Office took “executive action” to defy the recent SCOTUS decision overruling Roe v. Wade and Planned Parenthood v. Casey, it forced my hand.
This is what happens when we install a regime bent on unmaking America.
The “executive orders” themselves are meaningless and impotent — they’re symbolic, not substantive. They’re within the authority of the office. The problem is that the mechanism of the executive branch is being abused to steal power from the states (the People, that is) and prop-up a “constitutional right” that never existed.
To my progressive friends ready to pounce because, presumably, I’d have no problem with comparable executive orders if, say, the Court handed down a decision infringing on the Second Amendment, let me say this — you’re absolutely right. That’s because the birthright to keep and bear arms is protected by the Constitution. Infanticide is not.
Doctor Dementia and his leftist cabal sit at the head of the federal government, like it or not. To advance their agenda, they flouting law they’re constitutionally bound to follow.
Of course, that only matters if you understand the Constitution, care about your country and aren’t committed to perpetuating the murder of children.
Our Friday in the storage unit was grueling, eight straight hours of sweat, strain, rain, dust, must and memories. We took very few breaks, devoting what’s left of our flagging energy to the task. No options, no excuses.
By the time we pulled the doors down and rolled away we’d moved all auction goods to one end, created more than enough room to accommodate everything we’ll (eventually) take to Arkansas, and filled the bed of the SilverSilverado with debris.
In the front yard of Second Chance Ranch, another dumpster — number four, if you’re keeping track — awaited us. We dropped trash, wolfed down takeout and resumed purging, pitching and packing. We didn’t fall into bed ’til after 3am.
Today was another in a string of big days. A crew of seven descended on Second Chance Ranch around 9am and attacked the household goods we’d set aside here for tomorrow’s live auction. Everything got loaded into a large rented truck, the biggest one available. Deb figured it’d take five trips, I guessed three and the auctioneer predicted two, maybe three.
It ended up being three full loads — today, anyway. There will be a fourth tomorrow morning. They’ll be back here at 7am.
I can’t say it was a smooth day, and I’ll admit that might be the nature of work like this. We had an impossible amount of stuff that needed to be moved to the auction site, all shapes and all sizes, boxed and loose. I’m not sure there’s a good way (or any way) to plan this sort of thing like a military campaign.
As the crew hauled goods from the house, more than once Deb and I found ourselves pulling items out of their hands — some things we wanted to keep had been buried in sale goods, inadvertently. That added speed bumps to the day.
Around noon the truck made a stop at our storage unit, and the effort that Deb and I had put in yesterday paid off in a quick loadout. I brought back the last of the trash, along with boxes of years-old paperwork we’ll hand to a shredding company on Monday.
Today’s last load left Second Chance Ranch around 8pm.
Everyone worked their asses off. At some point the auctioneer will have to sort our soon-to-be-former possessions into saleable lots. The Bumper Bunker won’t be towed to the fairgrounds ’til tomorrow morning, and Deb and I plan to show up around 11am.
The auction begins at 1pm sharp.
We thought we might have a chance to sleep in, at least a little, but that won’t happen. We’ve been averaging less than three hours a night this week, and we’re exhausted beyond my ability to describe. And Monday we’ll rent our own truck to move the remaining stuff to storage.
Tuesday we’ll move Ernie to a nearby campground. The house, after some pre-sale cleaning, groundskeeping and photography, will go on the market Friday. A week from today we’ll begin our trek back to northern Arkansas. That’s the plan.
Right now, though, the auction’s the thing.
One year ago today, we paid our first visit to Hudson’s Supermarket in Harrison — a throwback to the way it used to be, the way it oughta be.
Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Stay free.