United Airlines stepped in it when they dragged a reluctant and bleeding volunteer off their plane under the watchful eye of passengers bearing smartphones. Facebookers had an electronic heyday and I too jumped on the bandwagon, but rather than the internet, I scribbled United memes on the flipside of my old campaign signs. Here is the story.
We conservatives erroneously relaxed on November 9th thinking a President Trump would steer America in an entirely different direction. We best not drop our swords and shields. Clinton supporters, congressional Democrats, cocktail caucus Republicans, life-long bureaucrats, celebrity twits, BLM activists and media propagandists were one presidential term away from collapsing our once-great republic into a North American Venezuela and they are furious with voters.
During normal times, it would be senseless to print an April Fools’ column the second week of April. These are not normal times. Last Saturday, social media was flooded with imaginative fabrications so preposterous even the most gullible readers recognized them as fiction. My favorites were the Laurel City Council announcing my hometown was now a sanctuary city and Wyoming’s Game and Fish Commission releasing 90 kangaroos on the eastern plains. When limited to a frequency of one day per year, these little literary pranks are harmless.
This past weekend, the trophy wife and I ran the Grasslands Marathon in Decatur, Texas. This trail race was number 19 in our quest to finish one 26.2 mile event in all 50 states. Saturday’s sun warmed these LBJ National Grasslands to 86 degrees and it was challenging running the sandy trails in the mesquite underbrush. Because our winter training was on the icy streets of Laurel, we were ill-prepared for the Texas heat.
This weekend, for the first time since 1989, my veterinary practice will be doctorless. Laurel schools are out for four days, so Dr. Mark is taking his family to San Diego for some sand and theme-park therapy. His trip has been scheduled for months. I was planning on covering the weekend, but daughter Chelsie invited us to join her, Marcus and their four mini-Warners for a short ski and water-park vacation in Kellogg, Idaho. I have not seen these four grandkids since last July, so I am not letting this opportunity slip through my fingers.
I developed a cattle drive business in the 1990s. Twenty guests trailing 200 cows up the rugged Little Horn Canyon taught me to have absolute control of what I could control because surprises hid behind every rock. Before the first orientation ride, we explained proper saddling and unsaddling procedures. We stressed tying your bridle to the front saddle strings, neatly looping the latigo into the D-ring and tying the breast collar and cinches to the off-side saddle strings. Doing so served dual purposes.
If there was a vet school lecture on assessing health by nasal palpations, I slept through it. When a client informs me their dog, cow, cat or horse can or cannot be running a fever because “his nose is wet,” or “his nose is dry,” I quickly steer my examination to the rear end of the critter. The true indicator of body temperature lies under the tail. The rectal thermometer is a great diagnostic tool applicable to all animal species as well as politics, which is why I mention it here.
Montana Code is thousands of pages because even constitutionalists demand regulation when their ox is gored. For example, LC2196.01 is a bill draft prohibiting bicycles and pedestrians from traveling the 7600 miles of state highways lacking a paved shoulder. This safety proposal demonstrates “liberty for me, but not for thee,” syndrome as revealed in recent social media banter.
I gained expertise in meaningful Christmas presents after failing my first gift exchange with my trophy girlfriend. I was 16 years old and because I was raised with brothers plus boy cousins, choosing a girl gift was overwhelming. I frantically searched, but eventually gave up, hoping Christmas might escape her notice. It didn’t and she dumped me over the holidays.