Spirited Americans don’t like the taste of the bridle
Ever wonder what a proud, spirited horse feels like the first time a greenhorn controller forces a bridle bit into his mouth? He can’t spit it out, he can’t swallow it and the taste of cold, hard steel connected to unwanted reins is something he can only seethe and chomp on.
That’s pretty much how proud, spirited Americans have acted since being forced to face the fact that the foreman of the Oligarchy Ranch and his Windy City rustlers have always been frighteningly serious about putting up barbwire around the personal freedoms, limits and independence we graze upon, enjoy and take for granted.
Don’t even bet the ranch that the foreman really wears a white hat or sincerely cares about the health and well-being of his herd. The horse liniment he pitches to soothe is really snake oil designed to ensnare. No, it’s abundantly clear that the postholes be rushed and dug as quickly as possible, so the herd won’t see the corral being laid out and irons being heated to leave his searing Obama brand of dominance on the hide of history. After the herd is bridled, branded, brainwashed and counted it will be much easier to lead them to his social engineering well, where we will drink what’s good for us, and the plow horses will provide for the lazy and lame, until the ranch goes into foreclosure or auctioned off to the highest bidder.
Does Obama really care what a proud, spirited America feels like? I may be a senior and semi-gelded, but I feel like Roy Rogers, and Trigger is ready to buck.