Rain began falling early this morning as a line of storms blew through the area. Once the wind calmed down a bit, I put the awning out, grabbed my coffee and sat outside for a good long while. It was muggy and, by most measures, it was unpleasant, but there was no place I would’ve rather been.
As I’ve said before, these days we live an outdoor life. After decades of spending most of our time confined to house and office, when we took to the road our indoor-outdoor balance changed in favor of sun and sky — and rain and snow and winds and whatever Nature serves up on a given day.
That’s what I prefer and always have. I need to be outside. When our humble house is finished and we’re tucked away in the quiet woods on The Mountain, our outdoor life will take on a whole new dimension.
While I was parked under the awning today I scrolled by a curious post on social media. Up in Stark County, Ohio, where I was born and raised, a friend was fuming righteously over a nasty rumor:
“Someone just called into a talk show and said that at [a local high school] they provide litter boxes for kids to scratch in that identify as animals. Please tell me this isn’t true…?”
I think that’s probably false. Deb and I have seen similar “fake news” all over the Web, attributed to other districts including the one we just left, dropped (and perpetuated) by pot-stirring dumbasses.
But here’s the thing — even if it’s not true, it actually could be true. You know it and I know it. A generation of emotionally crippled children, brought up by morally bankrupt “parents” and indoctrinated by a toxic popular culture, is pushing boundaries beyond what’s acceptable.
And so we can be excused for wondering if the latest absurdity is fact. We’ve reached the point at which this kind of wokeshit is plausible.
Seriously, are you ok with that?
Count me among those who believe that not every “difference” should be accepted. Someone who “identifies” as a fucking cat (or other biologically unsupportable object) — especially if that someone is a child — ought to be psychoanalyzed and isolated, not accommodated.
That’s what should be done but it won’t be, at least not everywhere. All across the country, wherever depraved progressives ravage and rule, The Great Identity Scam rolls on. It can’t be stopped. We’ll continue to be asked to believe the unbelievable, to deny natural law, to abandon common sense. It’ll sweep the nation.
Think that won’t happen? Or can’t? Consider that in the span of 50 years it became perfectly acceptable to refer to the murder of a child as “a woman’s choice.”
Again, there’s no way to halt the march of liberal idiocy. Evil is everywhere and The Stupid fall in line.
The solution? Easier said than done, certainly, but for you and me the first step is to escape — either physically or through patriotic non-compliance — and gather with fellow Americans of like mind.
Next comes the hard part — create a parallel culture. See, it’s not enough to run and hide, That accomplishes nothing. It’ll take time, maybe a generation or two, but true Americans with purpose, working together, can save the last best hope of Earth by building it all over again.
No, this isn’t the first time you’ve read that here. It’s the only way.
By early this afternoon the skies cleared, the sun came out and temps climbed into the upper 80s. After a gloomy start it turned into a spectacular Thursday. We had an odd reason to be glad about that — our campground hosts wanted to photograph us on this premium patio site, and tomorrow we’ll be moving down the row to more ordinary digs.
Deb and I grabbed the dogs, sat down at the table and tried to look natural. The park’s owner grabbed shots from various angles, then joined us for relaxed conversation. Over the months we’ve spent here these people have become good friends, and we value those relationships.
One of her photos, by the way, soon will appear on the campground’s website. Stay tuned for that.
We’ve been back in Arkansas two weeks now and still we haven’t returned to a few of our favorite restaurants. We checked one box this evening with a visit to Salsa’s Grill here in Harrison, our go-to Tex-Mex joint.
As usual, both of us had enchilada plates and margaritas. I went for the signature cucumber-jalapeño margarita — a large one, too, thank you very much. (If you judge that to be a frou-frou drink, yeah, you can kiss my ass.)
Next up, I believe, will be Blacksheep BBQ in Yellville. That meal is long overdue.
One year ago today we arrived in South Dakota and the real fun began.
Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Stay free.