You Don't Have to Read It 1

Who here feels, like me, that you're living in the wrong time?
Like your worth shouldn't be measured by 1040's and sheepskins (which rarely relates to one's chosen profession), but by the wits you live upon.

How well I can manage my vehicle in a crisis and afterwards repair the damage I have inflicted should be my sole benchmark, not a long-sleeved T-shirt a customer asks us to wear so as not to appear sub-contracted.

I won't get started on self reliance since anyone that knows me knows I'm rough and ready to eat your dog if I have to.
The redneck song says to be proud that you can run a trot line or skin a deer or be polite to total strangers and I have to agree.

Should I need to get on a phone and explain myself to the powers that be? It's irritating to say the least. trust me, I always say.

The benefits of living in this age of soulless consumers are many. For I cannot remember the last time I split some wood to stay warm inside. I don't even have the shutzpah to mow my own grass, but I can. And of course, I thank those before me for modern medicine though they failed my parents.

But what a treat it would be to get up, do work, real work with one's hands then to be paid with real money in lieu of promissary notes (checques) and promises to, "take care of you guys soon."

Then not have to share with governmental policies that I was never consulted upon before "asked" to participate within.

I can make my own policies as to whom I am indebted. Indeed, I can also choose charities with great ease as they all three live closely with me here in my warm home.

I felt like writing so I did. And I'm sorry if it isn't brilliant.

And, yes, I know I would die if I had to put hay up all summer long for the winter so the milk cow would give us milk all year and the horse would truck us around all year. I know my gardening would take up copious amounts of time equalled only by the canning of produce, again for the winter leaving little time for fun.

But, I'd have a hell of a house and barn and a literal ton of meat in the smokehouse...