Last Saturday I saw needless suffering. In the usual manner when such things present themselves, my mind followed the trail down to the root causes. Funny thing, these root causes. I think the path to them has a lot to do with the proverbial rabbit hole. You never know how deep it goes until you follow it.
At the most, I am still perturbed over the whole matter not only because of “what” happened, but because of what I become due to those root causes.
So last Saturday I am making my usual foray into the world of proper gun usage. It’s the same training that I have done for years, and always take the opportunity to pass on to others. Sometimes to a fault – there are other things I can do. I have tons of lumber that should have been cut, split, and seasoned by now, but I digress.
Heading down the road in my sweetheart’s land tank – better known as a Mercedes-Benz and old enough to be a classic – in a split second my eye caught unidentified movement and the driver side rear window exploded and sent millions of little glass shards all over the inside of the vehicle while the vehicle as a whole swerved under an impact. I only gunned the throttle for a moment (this is called “getting out of the kill zone” when things like that happen and you don’t know what the hell is going on) until my mirror revealed a large doe going end over end in the road.
This doe, bolting for some reason known only to deer, had broadsided the car with such force that a structural component of the car is actually bent (this is called the “C Pillar” and is usually one of the few recognizable components of cars that have been totally wrecked). Let’s put aside the fact that had this been the driver window and not the rear door window I might be dead. (That’s not nearly as close a call as the lightning bolt that passed within arms length of my head one day. I don’t care for such things. God is not letting me off easy.)
I turned the vehicle around to investigate the matter further and also to confirm what else was going on, and to my dismay, the doe was still alive. We could guess that her jaw was broken but I saw no such damage as we would expect except that it was still breathing and had blood pouring out of its nose and mouth. This is not new to me – I once walked into a sliding glass door with such force, (although not breaking it, since it was typical of the sliding glass doors we find in a hurricane target like Florida) that while not breaking my nose, suffered enough trauma on the inside of my face to bleed in such manner that is mildly comparable to this poor animal.
Now we should all expect what comes next. We live in America, and we have guns. Lots of guns. I have spent a lot of time and money trying to teach everybody to learn how to use them. The NRA would have us all doing “stand and shoot” while using our dues money to support neo-cons but I teach everything from close combat to long-range. To make a long digression short: it would be best to shoot the deer and end its suffering.
Then to take it home and not let this bounty of the forest – good meat not infected with antibiotics, drugs, hormones, and other poisons you find in the supermarket – go to waste. To be honest I had never killed a deer before. In Florida, where I started hunting, the deer are so thin that a hound dog weighs more. Might as well eat the dog for the effort (this was never the case, just saying) so we hunted wild hog instead.
During such panicked ruminations – we want to end the animals suffering – one of the neighbors shows up. He heard the impact and came to investigate.
At this point, my girlfriend wants to shoot the doe. I could not blame her. She hates to see animals suffer. But I was reluctant, reluctant because I started to think just like any uniformed desk tyrant who, if I shot the deer, or let my girlfriend shoot it, could sit there and think of “something to file charges over.”
Although it was still very close to the road, the doe landed neatly a few feet into a private driveway. Though this was a rural area, there were houses about – and thanks to the “see something say something” snitch culture, it’s not so much that people who buy into that will report on people like me, but that people like me also have to live in fear of those who buy into that. There are rules against shooting on someone else’s property – in some states they call that “armed trespass” and no matter what the reason, they will still lock you up for it. Shooting from or near a road: another zinger. Shooting a doe – well what tags for hunting are on hand?
Now anybody in their right mind might see me as paranoid – but I have experience. I worked with the Florida Fish and Wildlife Commission as a volunteer for 6 years as a Hunter Ed instructor. I was an area coordinator for a county with over a million residents. Every time a judge sent someone to compulsory Hunter Ed, I heard about it. Sometimes it was for the kind of dumb things people might do, other times it was for poachers who got caught and so a judge says a little education might reduce their punishment. But I don’t think of all those episodes. What comes to mind are those who were actually honest people but made mistakes or had accidents. I recall every case – there were a score of them – where a judge who was anti-gun and anti-hunting used such an incident to throw the book at a gun owner who was into hunting. You all know the type.
While I have seen many a fish and wildlife officer roll their eyes when I told them about some of my students, there are many who, wider than they are tall, have not any sense of the “spirit” of any law.
The spirit of the law in my case would be what? End an animal’s suffering that came about from an accident (remember the deer hit me but was still alive) and not let the meat go to waste. Even so, if the law stated that the meat had to go somewhere other than into my freezer, then it would have been good enough to let the poor animal return to the Creator and rest.
But no. This is America. The only liberty we have that is not threatened, is the right to complain about not having liberty. Yeah we have guns and the internet but that’s because the bastards have not yet figured out a way to make us give those things up while at the same time making us “expect them to take it away.”
I eat, sleep, and breathe tyranny. I am aware of it to a level that as far as I am concerned, the enemy is always outside of my foxhole. When I wake up in the morning, guns fall out of my bed. Where most people see some harmless political infighting that is either dramatic or at least funny, I see death camps and human lampshades. It comes from watching documentaries about war and tyranny from as young as age 6. In 1976 I was 6 years old. This is not a numerological thing where I will show that everything adds up to 19 or something. In 1976, the year of the Bicentennial, there was much fanfare about the Declaration of Independence, the Bill of Rights, and the Revolution. So I knew who Thomas Jefferson was. There is not much more to say.
So I turned toward the neighbor, showing my holstered sidearm and say “yeah we got guns – heading to the range right now, actually” and I saw, as usual, the “slave with a gun stare” that I usually enjoy when going to places like food co-ops. You know those places. Obama stickers everywhere and they are all about food freedom but have no clue that co-ops get raided by SWAT teams for selling raw milk so easily and willingly purchased. It used to be that you allowed people to foolishly pick and choose the freedoms they like and care little for those they don’t while carefully avoiding the toes of “your” voters. But now government goes for broke and it’s only by the heights of ignorance.
My girlfriend, now operating under the idea that there stood a consensus to shoot the doe – and anxious to put this gruesome situation to a painless end – asks if she can use her handgun for the task. I have bad experience with shooting wild game with handguns. I once shot a boar in the head with a .357 magnum and all that did was make it angry and try to kill me and the hunting dogs. Ironically, I ended up killing it with a Glock – Glock makes knives – but that’s another story that ends with being marinated in cola and Jim Beam for 2 days (the boar, not me).
But I lost a sprocket. Here was a chance to act like some kind of cool and collected sort of fellow who has guns and acts like there is nothing to fear, but my mind showed me a picture, a picture of some state “disfunctionary,” in a XXL uniform but no taller than 5 feet, sitting at a desk and trying to decide what to charge me with. Charge me with what?
These days, they can charge you with anything. It’s called tyranny and the only reason why, under this tyranny, we still have guns is because taking them away looks like tyranny. We have concentration camps but we call them “fusion centers.” If you have a penchant for recognizing patterns, some things you cannot avoid realizing. No, I was not going to be on their radar on their terms. There are a lot of Subarus and Priuses seen on this road, so who at this point is already watching and would drop a dime if we shot the doe and hauled it off? And then what?
Any reasonable person who understands the spirit of a law would think me insane and overly paranoid. But are there not enough reasons to see that there is no longer any spirit in interpreting laws? Under the letter of any law, you can be in big trouble. The spirit of the law states that an animal has to be removed from its pain and the carcass will not simply be left there to rot. There is no telling what a wounded animal could do to. There was no confirmation that this doe was doomed. Under the letter of the law, they could come up with any combination of existing laws to nail me to any size cross (according to the building codes no doubt).
It stinks to have to think that way, like them. I would rather have someone standing on a podium with the brushes on his shoulders saying “I am the ruler and what I say goes. You resist, you die!” That’s easy to deal with. Now we have millions of them, silent, nearly invisible, who amount to the same thing. How many were watching me at this point?
So I say to my girlfriend: “We can’t just shoot it. We should, and then take it home and skin it, but we can’t because there’s a million little rules for every damned thing and our country is f**ked up!”
Now the neighbor was scared. Of me? I don’t know, but the kind of words I speak, that come from the ideas I endure, living in the world that I am well aware of (the one where things like the PATRIOT Act end in death cam…. uh.. fusion centers) are actually very scary to those who live in the “other” world. The world where it’s either bow down before the mainstream media thinking Obama is your savior or pumping your fist to the O’HannityBaugh nexus thinking Newt is going to save you with his next contract on your liberty (for safety of course). I scare the people who live in that world. It also appeared that the poor man was in great peril of being in the vicinity of what looked like an epic rant taking place. I am told that my voice does this to people. It’s why I prefer to shut up most of the time. Try to imagine: I am freaked out, my girlfriend sees an innocent animal in pain and that is one of the things in this world that breaks her heart the most (she was not even thinking about her car), I got enemies outside the foxhole and my mind is going all the way down the rabbit hole to the reason why I cannot shoot this creature and take it home.
Meanwhile, the very same people who vote for the people who interpret law without spirit, who vote for the people who pass those laws, and probably think Bambi was a documentary, could be watching and ready to dial 911 if I took my evil, politically incorrect, black rifle out of the car and put a stop to the pain.
So I ask the neighbor “you want it?” and he replies “No. Just go and I’ll call this in and get this taken care of. Hopefully they can send someone out,” and nearly runs away.
Without hesitation, and with someone taking care of things, we leave. What happened to it, I don’t know. For all we know, it might still be out there, bloody nose and all, or more likely it took animal control or the deputies a long time to come out and finish it. At least it didn’t end with one of “the others,” Prozac in veins and iPod in hand, standing next to a blood stain and saying to a cop “well there was this, uh, guy, and he, like, uh, took out a machine gun and, like, killed it.” To most of “the others,” anything that does not look like it came out of a John Wayne movie is a machine gun (and they probably don’t even watch John Wayne movies). I don’t like machine guns. Aimed fire at a distance is combined marksmanship and economic warfare that is itself a force multiplier, and hence much better. Machine guns are only possible with other people’s money (your tax dollars).
Now, had I done the deed and gotten a book or two thrown at me, who would defend me? After all, could I have done what was right and seen defense in what could have happened?
Let’s see. The so-called “liberals” are the ones who would sooner have me put away for basically being the very thing they are conditioned to tolerate, if that word really means “hate and fear.” Such laws maintained by their representatives make it a very gray area to shoot a wounded deer on the side of the road. The difference between the letter of the law and the spirit finds its range in that gray zone. Yes, we don’t want yokels shooting deer across people’s yards out from the roads, and that’s’ the spirit. The letter says otherwise, and how “tolerant” would be the officer or game warden?
I suppose the so-called sovereigns could flood the courtroom on my behalf. While I have been mistaken for a member of this group in the past, I have always been at odds with them. Not for the common laws they usually cite, which are actually very accurate, but for the fact they make one mistake: they like to go to the devils courts to ask the devils permission to be free from the state, whatever that means. And that’s not including the ones who usually cook up these “patriot folklore” schemes who claim that their brother’s sister’s cousin’s roommate found some parchment in an old pirate ship that shows how, if you create some documents worded just right and signed just right, you can go to the courts and make the government give you money. Yes I exaggerate, but the “legal eagles” of common law have failed us to such an extent that I could not rely on them. There are so many cases where they could raise such a noise and on the grounds of real common law, and never show up, that I lose faith in them.
Then there are the so-called “conservatives” who speak well of gun ownership and hunting but when it comes right down to it, they do what they are told, which is to simply speak well of gun ownership and hunting rights and do nothing to save it. I think the reasons for this range from them being afraid of being “outed” for anything from their shady business deals to their gay lifestyles. There is a reason why true conservatives never get the funding to run for office. The midstream, as Doug Parris calls it, only wants people they can control. Finally, to most of the rank and file (so-called) conservatives, the moment they hear “broke the law” or “charged with”, the cop-worship conditioning kicks in and it does not even matter who you were before they heard it and what evidence later manages to penetrate the brainwashing.
So there you have it. An animal suffered needlessly, my freezer still more empty than full, and I sit here with a case of “defeated general syndrome” wondering what I should have done and reminded at every step why I did not. This is what we have sunk to. Honestly, had things been a little more remote and with no witnesses, my freezer would be full and I would not be writing about this. The evidence would be on its way to being properly disposed of. But the “law,” whatever that is in a lawless police state, was adhered to. I am sure someone behind a desk somewhere could crack open a book that they are too weak to carry and find somewhere, somehow, some other paragraph or line that says I broke some kind of law in some manner and with the right application of the “Art of Lawfare” still be charged with something – anything. That can also be said of everybody who gets out of bed in the morning.
Having lived like this for this long, I look forward to a day when such books are going to be piled in columns.