Night dropped its curtain around the cow camp as dusty cowboys wandered back from a tough day on the trail. Cookie had the fire going and beans simmering, and the tuckered crew took a load off in the firelight.
Opinion
“Say, where’s Panhandle?” Sweetwater Slim asked, looking around for his absent pard.
Cookie stirred the frijoles and answered, “Some o’ them Freedom Caucus ICE mercenaries come into camp this mornin’ after you left, an’ they clapped him in irons an’ hauled him off to the hoosegow.”
Puzzled looks regarded Cookie from the circle of dusty faces. Hoolihan spoke up, “You mean them Freedom Caucus gomers an’ border guard goons? Hell, Panhandle was born an’ raised here in this country, jest on t’other side o’ the Freezeout Mountains. He ain’t never set foot outta the county ‘cept that one time he went to the Stock Show in Denver an’ come back with a dose o’ clap. What the hell?”
“It was quite a fracas this mornin’,” Cookie said as he stroked his greasy beard and told the tale. “They come bustin’ in here while I was doin’ dishes. Wearin’ them camo Meal Team Six uniforms with ICE on the back. Armed to the goddam teeth. Said they was lookin’ fer dirty books.”
This information made a couple of the grizzled old trail hands a bit nervous.
“They caught Little Joe back behind a greasewood bush, givin’ a tattered ol’ copy o’ Hustler a purty good look-see. Them fellers beat the hell outa poor Joe, bear-sprayed him an’ whatnot, ‘til he told ‘em he stole it outta Panhandle’s bedroll.”
This got the attention of the cowhands. Little Joe was a favorite saddle pal, and the whole crew doted on him. They taught him cowboy tricks, like how to get bucked off into cactus.
Cookie proceeded with his yarn. “Then they started pullin’ out his fingernails, tryin’ to get Joe to tell ‘em how old he was. When he told ‘em he was 16, they quit beatin’ on ‘im an’ commenced to whuppin’ up on Panhandle. Then they drug him off to El Salvador or Uganda or god-knows-where. They said they’s gonna ransack the library while they was in town, an’ have a book burnin’.”
“How’s Joe?” a voice from the smoke asked.
“He’s gonna live,” Cookie replied. “He’s over yonder under the chuckwagon tryin’ to stop the bleedin’ but he’s gonna be OK.” He gave the cauldron another stir. “But I’m a tad worried ‘bout Panhandle. Them goons said he was in a passel o’ trouble for corruptin’ a minor, distributin’ pornography to kids, bein’ a librul an’ a bunch o’ other crimes. I think they said treason, too. It’s all written down on this here paper.”
Cookie waved an official-looking document in the firelight. “Says here the Freedom Caucus is gonna burn every dirty book in Wyoming, an’ if anyone gets in their way, there’ll be hell to pay.”
Goshen Gus nodded his noggin, and said with more than a smidgen of sarcasm, “They got a point. We cain’t have them town kids gettin’ all horny by readin’ ‘bout kissin’ an’ huggin’ an’ whatnot. Who knows what they’ll end up doin’. Maybe wear lipstick, steal hubcaps, or molest the sheep or some damn thing.”
“Hold yer horses there, Gus.” Deacon from Dayton exhorted. “We gotta get this country back to a Bible-believin’ outfit. Iff’n kids can read all that racy stuff in libraries an’ school, they’ll stop comin’ to church to read the true Word.”
Deacon paused his sermon long enough to reach into his saddlebag and haul out a well-thumbed copy of the King James Bible. “Here’s the kinda stuff we should be teachin’ our young ‘uns. He took a deep breath, then read all eight chapters of the Song of Solomon to the congregated cowboys.
As Deacon read his turgid Old Testament lesson, smoke swirled around the campfire, making the crew’s eyes burn. Grizzled old broncpeelers squirmed on the ground, and a few fanned their flushed faces with stiff Stetsons.
The Trail Boss sauntered into the campfire light just as Deacon closed his Bible and the trail crew got to their feet to hightail it out into the gathering darkness.
“Where y’all goin’?” Trail Boss queried.
Panhandle hollered over his shoulder as he dashed into the darkening gloom, “We’re gonna hide out down to the gully, an’ make ourselves scarce. Them Freedom Caucus ICE goons is comin’ for Deacon next fer what he just read, and we don’t want ‘em arrestin’ us too. It ain’t gonna be purty.”
Thanks, Rod. Sounds about right. Our libraries here in Big Horn County are at the short end of County funding, obviously unimportant that our citizens and kids have access to learning. Meanwhile funding is waved around to across-the-board slashing without logic.
I’m really struggling to force a chuckle with this one Rod. The censorship that we are already experiencing is not of the variety that rams down the front door and.drags you kicking and screaming down the front stairs in broad daylight to make an example of you. It is of the cowardly sort that you will grudgingly find yourself choosing to quietly accept because you have no other options. We will soon bear witness to the shuttering of every public library in Wyoming — not because they are the repositories of smut and filth — but simply because we cannot afford to pay the bills to keep the lights on. The poor choices that our Freedom Caucus makes, combined with the economic armageddon being hatched in the Oval Office, will continue to erode our local government’s ability to provide essential services. The day is coming swiftly when the choice we will have to make will be: Do we continue to keep our emergency services, or do we keep a couple copies of Bunyan’s “Pilgrims Progress” and a short stack Gideon’s Bibles nice and toasty down in that drafty old Carnegie building? You and I both know what the answer to that question will be. That I have no defensible counterargument to offer…that keeps me awake at night…
I’m wondering when the freedom caucus is going to send the national guard to Albany and Teton county because they didn’t all vote for you know who
Puritanism is alive and well in modern America. Witch burnings and scarlet letters coming soon!
Dave Gustafson
Mr. Gustafson: Yes! H. L. Mencken said it best when he described Puritanism as: The haunting fear that someone, somewhere, may be happy.
got this right man these “Freedom” clowns sure have a new definition of that work
Freedom F..kus is more like it
thanks for your normal brilliant level of journalistic and western lore literacy
It’s pretty common for those with the loudest mouth to be the worst offenders. Look at dementia don for example.
He beguiled me and I did eat……..that story is not about an apple but the readers of the KJV will not budge, nor will they draw a comparison between the obvious references in the Song of Solomon to the Penthouse Letters of my dumpster diving youth. (I met the editor of those letters and yes they were submitted but the spelling and syntax was atrocious, so she made them more palatable)
When Martha Lawley brought her bill last session I had the temerity to describe the life changing event about my discovering the joys of removing dead skin from my body to the Judiciary. While I got no questions during my testimony, a few male representatives discussed the subject after the hearing ended. In a separate discussion your replacement at the other place said I had no credibility when presenting my honest testimony.
Michelle Obama’s locker room talk on the left; Gail and Martha on the right: surely they, and the neutered Freedom Caucus males, know what is best for the men of Wyoming.