Life and Death on the Range
reckoned by Johnny Rawhide at 11:30 PM
Seems like livin' and dyin' and havin' babies is all in the government's purview here in the 21st century and that just ain't right. While folks is ponderin' how to pay the bills, gettin' li'l Sally and li'l Dusty into the right kiddy day school so they's can matriculate at the right college, and get hitched to the right corporation, decipherin' the operatin' instructions for their Humvees and Box-mobiles so they's can watch a DV and D while runnin' from one trading post to another -- while all that is blusterin' there's a mighty mean storm bearin' down.
The high sheriff's at the Supreme Corral are debatin' if it's okay for a dyin' patient and their personal medicine man to choose a peaceful way out of this here world. Voters up Oregon way has done voted twice to allow for it and make it the law of the land, but now there's this argument that it's the Washington folk who really have that right.
More than once, I've had to help some poor critter who got all bunged-up to have a quick and painless resolution. It never gets easy, but it's the plain ol' decent thing to do. Time was, a puny, dyin' feller and their family had some shot at dignity in their wanin' hours. Gets me spooked to think a feller might have to meet some new Federal law guideline for bein' qualified to be dead.
On t'other side of the river of life, there's this new proposal that anyone who wants to bear a child in Indiana would have to get a permit if'n they needed a doctor's help to do so. Jeez O. Pete.
Now any tenderfoot knows that kids get borned all the time into homes that ain't quite ready for 'em. There ain't no real way to know what to expect, even if Ma and Pa (or whoever) has done had a whole litter of sprouts.
It's just how folk behave and to create some new legal cowpile of rules means your own decisions don't count for scrub-brush.
Everybody seems so dang hell-bent on some mirage of perfection and folks, life ain't that way. Life and Death both are wild, loose and seldom tame. Seems mighty uppity to try and hobble Life and Death with some words on a paper. But the attempt is underway and that just chaps me somethin' fierce. Partner, if we don't start realizin' the Homstead is bein' stolen right out from under us, we'll all be havin' to get papers just to breathe and walk.
Ya'll ponder on that. I got some chores to get back to.
UPDATE:
Seems the Indiana official who wanted to restrict who could and could not have young'uns has decided to the proposed law was a poorly thought idea..
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About the Writer
Johnny Rawhide is a Stinkhorn Rodeo
Ranch Boss and designated Sharp-shooter.
The high sheriff's at the Supreme Corral are debatin' if it's okay for a dyin' patient and their personal medicine man to choose a peaceful way out of this here world. Voters up Oregon way has done voted twice to allow for it and make it the law of the land, but now there's this argument that it's the Washington folk who really have that right.
More than once, I've had to help some poor critter who got all bunged-up to have a quick and painless resolution. It never gets easy, but it's the plain ol' decent thing to do. Time was, a puny, dyin' feller and their family had some shot at dignity in their wanin' hours. Gets me spooked to think a feller might have to meet some new Federal law guideline for bein' qualified to be dead.
On t'other side of the river of life, there's this new proposal that anyone who wants to bear a child in Indiana would have to get a permit if'n they needed a doctor's help to do so. Jeez O. Pete.
Now any tenderfoot knows that kids get borned all the time into homes that ain't quite ready for 'em. There ain't no real way to know what to expect, even if Ma and Pa (or whoever) has done had a whole litter of sprouts.
It's just how folk behave and to create some new legal cowpile of rules means your own decisions don't count for scrub-brush.
Everybody seems so dang hell-bent on some mirage of perfection and folks, life ain't that way. Life and Death both are wild, loose and seldom tame. Seems mighty uppity to try and hobble Life and Death with some words on a paper. But the attempt is underway and that just chaps me somethin' fierce. Partner, if we don't start realizin' the Homstead is bein' stolen right out from under us, we'll all be havin' to get papers just to breathe and walk.
Ya'll ponder on that. I got some chores to get back to.
UPDATE:
Seems the Indiana official who wanted to restrict who could and could not have young'uns has decided to the proposed law was a poorly thought idea..
--------------------
About the Writer
Johnny Rawhide is a Stinkhorn Rodeo
Ranch Boss and designated Sharp-shooter.
4 Comments:
mighty fine piece of ckicken whispering, you produced today. what gets me all bound up, is how long it will be fore they test who's up to living. I know they would come after me, with a big load of mineral oil, and a huge rubber glove.
Thanks, Parson.
However.
I am not the Ranch's chicken-whisperer, as that is a skill belongin' to Concha Loca.
And hellfire, they already got a test what can cipher if I'm alive - called taxes.
no devalidation no insult intended by my massive gender oversight, chalk it up to late hours, and one, ok perhaps two too many peyote buttons.....
Them buttons can make ya might confused, Rev., while offerin' a peek at the stars.
Yee-Haw!
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