It got colder last night (19°F, versus a forecast of 25°F) and got cold faster than predicted. The quick chill had us dipping into our recently replenished supply of propane six hours earlier than expected, starting the furnaces just after 4pm.
Smudge slept through the night again.
While we waited for this morning’s sun to warm things up, I cruised through my social-media feed to see what my friends were talking about. A couple of topics stood out to me. The first is the whole “died suddenly” thing — a perceived rash of deaths, specifically due to cardiac arrest, presumably linked to WuFlu vaccinations.
There’s clear evidence that mRNA WuFlu jabs are responsible for a spike in cases of myocarditis, especially in relatively young people, disturbingly in individuals with neither a history of nor a predisposition for the condition. It’s the all-too predictable result of releasing a “vaccine” driven by politics, not science, and “rules” requiring it.
So yes, we know that the combination of The Jab and groupthink is killing Americans.
“Died suddenly,” however, treats news of every heart attack as an “ah-ha!” moment, and that’s intellectually bankrupt. Ultimately, we don’t know — one way or the other, in most cases we don’t know.
Make no mistake, The Jab has incapacitated and killed more people than we fear or could ever imagine. Skepticism is healthy in general and absolutely warranted in this case, but dammit, pouncing on every high-profile coronary undermines credibility. It’s embarrassing to see so many otherwise intelligent folks become hammers who see nails everywhere they look.
The other subject drawing my attention this morning was a bill before the Colorado legislature — the “Mass Shooting Prevention Act of 2023,” to my eyes even more repressive than one that passed recently in Illinois. It was the first order of business for the state’s majority Democrats, presuming to ban an entire class of firearms in common use. The justification?
“Assault weapons in civilian hands endanger Colorado’s streets, stores, restaurants, places of worship, music venues, schools, movie theaters, and communities at large. With an assault weapon, even a firearms novice can perpetrate a mass casualty incident.”
I won’t get into the fabricated definition of “assault weapon” — we’ve heard it all before. Opponents of the measure, in unison, tell us (correctly) that it’s unconstitutional, pointing out that it’ll never stand up in court.
To repeat, it’ll never stand up in court. You know what that means, right?
That’s what we say when we don’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of stopping an anti-American bill from becoming law. We must rely on constitutionalist, originalist, pro-Liberty jurists to overturn it. And because that won’t happen right away, the law will be in force for months or years before the wrong is righted — if it ever is.
It means that countless Americans whose birthrights are guaranteed by the Constitution of the United States will live as if that guarantee doesn’t exist. They won’t lose their rights — but it means that exercising their rights violates the law, even if the law is unconstitutional.
We have to wait for the system to work, they say. And we’re supposed to be ok with that.
I’m not ok with that.
Defiance is called for. Put another way, when tyranny is law, resistance is duty.
We’ve limped along with the Ranger’s original battery for over a year now. It’s been clear since the beginning that the cell was on its last leg. When we drove the buggy Wednesday it gave us every indication that no amount of nursing would prolong its life any further.
I ordered a new one online last night from O’Reilly Auto Parts, with pickup today in Flippin. This morning that errand took us the back way from US Route 62 to The Mountain, a wonderful passage. The idea was to drive the Ranger over to Deb’s cousin’s garage and swap the batteries there.
That plan fell apart when I turned the key and the engine wouldn’t turn over — the old battery was d-o-n-e, done. I shifted into neutral and pushed the rig out of the shed, down the ramp and onto the driveway.
It was a nice day anyway.
Pulling one battery and installing the other wasn’t difficult at all, a simple matter of a retaining strap and two cables. Because the new AGM was a different size than the wet-cell battery it replaced, I had to add a rubber bungee to hold it in place securely.
When I was finished with that I joined Deb, her cousin and Smudge over by the garage. We gave the puppy a serious workout today, thrilled at how responsive she’s become. She makes progress every day, and this may have been the best one yet.
We were there only a couple of hours. On our way out we stopped at Crooked Creek before continuing to O’Reilly, where I dropped off the old battery and got my core charge back.
At the auto-parts store we parked next to a couple of all-American truck dogs.
Smudge slept the whole way back to Harrison. For all of us, it was a very good day.
Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Stay free.