“Don’t pray when it rains if you don’t pray when the sun shines.”
Leroy Robert “Satchel” Paige (1959)
That quote popped into my head the other day as I listened to rain drum on the cabin roof. It’s appeared on this blog once before.
We find our religion when we want it to stop raining — to get the game in, or the round in, or the hay in. Satch reminds us that selfish supplication isn’t an expression of faith.
. . .
. . .
SCOTUS handed Liberty-loving Americans a big win this week. In Wolford v. Lopez, the high Court decided 6-3 to strike down Hawaii’s law that defaults to prohibiting concealed carry in public places. The statute, it was ruled, violates both the Second Amendment and the Fourteenth Amendment.
The state of Hawaii argued that the law was constitutional based on… wait for it… “the Spirit of Aloha” and the historical precedent set by post-Civil War “Black Codes” prohibiting freed slaves from possessing firearms. Seriously.
Justice Samuel Alito wrote for the majority. Justice Amy Coney Barrett penned a concurring opinion, joined by Justices Clarence Thomas and Neil Gorsuch, the concluding paragraph of which contains this pearl of originalism:
“While most Hawaiians might prefer that no one carry firearms in public places, a majority’s opposition to a constitutional right is not a permissible basis for restricting it.”
The extent to which you agree with that determines whether you’re a citizen or a subject. At the heart of it are 15 words which should be a mantra for all true Americans.
This:
“…a majority’s opposition to a constitutional right is not a permissible basis for restricting it.”
Commit those words to memory, my friends.
. . .
. . .
I don’t always photograph the special things.
Sometimes I don’t have my phone on me. Sometimes the moment happens too fast, or I needed a third hand and didn’t have it.
Sometimes it’s a choice.
The red fox kit that dashed across the road in front of my truck.
A hackberry emperor butterfly that lit on the back of my hand. And stayed there awhile.
Sitting, staring into the woods.
Moments like that are the ones I remember most vividly. I have to.
. . .
Bacon and eggs.
. . .
We’re all familiar with the phrase, “pulling your weight.” I’ve been thinking about that lately, practically as opposed to metaphorically.
Pulling physical weight, though not exclusively the province of men, is something guys know a lot about. And women, in my experience, often wonder about — and indeed scoff at — a man who prefers to do the heavy lifting all on his own.
“Why didn’t you say something?” they fuss condescendingly. “You know I would’ve been glad to help.”
C’mon, guys, how often do we answer that question honestly? Never.
If we told the truth, we’d say that we don’t ask for help because we don’t want to get hurt.
It’s not just women, of course. It could be a friend or a co-worker. Maybe it’s a kid. But the reason we do what we do is the same each time — we’re more likely to injure ourselves compensating for (and worrying about) a weak helper who can’t pull their weight than we are by doing it ourselves, alone.
What’s usually chalked up to stubbornness is, in fact, self-preservation.
I’m one of those guys. It’s served me well.
. . .
Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Stay free.
#WiseUp #LibertyOrDeath #Ungovernable