For the first time in a long while, I’m gonna lead with politics.
I pay virtually no attention to public affairs in the City and County of New York, but I do know that it elected a democratic socialist and Shia Muslim as its next mayor. He was sworn-in at midnight on New Year’s Eve and delivered an inaugural address.
I read the entire speech. I’m here to tell you, it should make every true American’s blood boil. One line in particular stands out:
“We will replace the frigidity of rugged individualism with the warmth of collectivism.”
That, in the most heinous possible sense, is anti-American, an assault on the individual Liberty on which this country was founded.
Then again, it’s nothing new — the Democrat party has been chasing the same socialist dream since FDR. This misbegotten mayor just said it out loud.
(Suddenly I’m hearing Jason Aldean in my head — “Try that in a small town.”)
We shouldn’t dismiss the threat posed by this duly elected Marxist and the 1.1 million New Yorkers who voted for him, of course. But for now, I’d like to offer momentary relief in the form of a quote:
“The strength that comes from the hills was never worth more in this country than it is today. Both to the man himself and to all about him.
“No poison-pollen of Old World imperialism gone to seed can contaminate — nor any attempt of crowd-sickened collectivism undermine — the priceless individualism of the American who truly keeps his feet on the earth.”
Who said that? I have no idea who wrote it, actually, but it’s from a 1919 ad for Remington UMC ammunition. (I blogged about the company’s post-war campaign here almost five years ago.) This is the ad:
I have no use for socialists, or Democrats, or democratic socialists, or any other of that progressive ilk. Collectivists can kiss this rugged individualist’s ass.
They can keep New York. This is still America.
Early Saturday morning, I took up the second task I’d planned to knock out on Friday (and didn’t on account of rain). I was back on the trail, meaning to deal with several large and nasty rocks that couldn’t be moved but somehow had to be addressed.
Using other rocks to build up in front of them — like the improvised ramping that hard-core off-roaders are familiar with — and placing timbers as guides along the edge of the trail, I made the section passable without risking undercarriage damage.
It’s a real squeeze, a tight Z-bend, and it’ll require care to navigate, but I believe it’ll work okay.
While I was out that way, I cut back branches and vines I’d missed before. Just fine-tuning, essentially a manicure with loppers. I walked the entire route, both sides, and made it as perfect as I could.
I brought the Ranger to a stop at the end of trail, where the log lengths await my attention. I didn’t do any of that yesterday. Instead, I had coffee and a late-morning snack, then decided to tackle one more thing before leaving the woods.
I plotted a path to the sittin’ spot where I intend to build a fire ring — 25 yards away, give or take. It looked like the understory would be easy to clear, not at all dense. This was doable.
And so I did it.
That picture doesn’t do a good job of showing you what I see, really, but this is a big deal to me. A half-hour’s work gave me long-awaited wheeled access to an area I intend to develop. There’s even room to turn the buggy around without pinballing off of trees.
The effort, as you might suspect, yielded a little firewood, which I bucked into stove lengths.
It doesn’t look like much, does it? Was it worth the trouble? I mean, what does that small pile get me?
It gets me started on pallet #5, that’s what.
I won’t pass up any chance to make a dent, however modest, in next winter’s fuel supply. Every little bit helps.
Life is productive. And yeah, life is very, very good.
Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Stay free.
#WiseUp #LibertyOrDeath #Ungovernable