|Add one free moth eaten horse . . .|
Due to recent world events I was forced to block several of my closest most intimate social media acquaintances of a certain philosophical stripe. It wasn’t personal. It was political. I couldn’t take the risk that my social media stranger-friends were spies for the IRS.
I mean I’ve reached the height of success as defined by my society. I don’t have to work. Someone else pays for my health insurance, and I get to travel to other places that are not in my zip code and look at things. I am a kept woman with a hobby farm and chickens. That kind of success can let loose the dogs of envy and paranoia—also the queens of cat fighting.
So I blocked the buggers.
Besides, they scared me.
List of reasons I had to cover my assets:
Number One -- I have assets. There’s a goat and a free horse. The free horse has muck itch in her mane and thrush in her back hooves and is a little moth eaten, but not everyone in America has a goat and a horse, and that’s just not fair. And fair is very important to my recently blocked Facebook stranger-friends. So either get everyone a horse or they want me to shoot mine. That about sums it up.
Number Two – I have used the word tea party and patriot in a sentence. In fact, for several years I had an actual tea bag in my purse, which is wildly suspicious because I don’t drink tea.
Number Three – I married my high school sweetheart. We’ve been married to the same ‘each other’ for thirty plus years. I don’t hate him. I don’t hate his male genitals. I don’t envy his male genitals. I don’t hate or envy others of his genital persuasion or facial hairiness. I like the idea of boys and girls and babies organized into functioning units called families. It’s behind the times and stuffy, but it works for us. I recognize that this is a wildly controversial worldview and smacks of the year in which I was born—also conservatism.
Number Four –When it all goes to yuck, I don’t want the IRS coming to eat my goat. And it will go to yuck (according to six thousand years of documented historical precedent.) I’ve spent the last twenty years preparing for yuck: World War Next, Charlie the Hurricane, Great Wall of China collapse, barbarian horde attack, Detroit, zombie squirrel apocalypse. Yuck. And it’s only one goat.
Number Five – I have no interest in keeping my neighbors from shooting off their guns or their mouths. However, I also have absolutely no interest in paying long distance for the consequences of them shooting off things—like their own big toes. I like to help people face to face and not through the slightly less personal avenue of the IRS tax code.
It’s sheep and goats time—literally.
Lines are being drawn, sides chosen, like minds located, tribal tattoos debated. The folks who managed to cross wild oceans, open new scary lands, leave junky European hometowns, and tame the wilderness of Detroit are making plans, and they’re not going to be telling the folks that spy for the IRS. They’re just going to get up and go with their goat and their free horse.
Big, whiney babies need not apply.
Linda (Lady Patriot) Zern