27 Dec


Back in older days, a whole community gathered to take care of uneccessary unwanted.  They found a very straight pine tree, stripped it of its bark and trimmed it down to the size of a fence post.  They announced a public celebration on the town square and asked some to bring a mop.  A few gathered kindling and dry grass while others located chunks of tar off old roadways.  It was seen to that everyone living in the place was on hand and a large keg of beer was to be had.  After a time, when everyone was feeling real good, they selected one or two from the gathering and proceeded to undress them right down to their underwear.  One of them started a fire under a large iron pot filled with chunks of paving. A local egg-farmer took filled tow sacks from his truck and handed feathers to all the ladies and children.  The two fellows who were the focus of attention knew right away what it was that was happening.  They began to squirm, but it was too late.  The entire gathering grew silent as the pot began to gurgle and a number of men grabbed their mops while a dozen grabbed the two men and as more lifted the long fence post, the unfortunate two were hoisted up on the post, slopped on with hot tar and all the ladies and children began tossing chicken feathers on them.  Tarred and Feathered and toted out of town, never to be seen again. 

To do this today would, without a doubt, bring loud disagreement, but when you consider what our Federal Government has become!  Well, why NOT?  I'm sure we can find enough poles, tar and feathers and enough MAGA hat wearers to do the handiwork.  This is our country and we must be prepared to take it back, peacefully and within the law, from the heathens! 

Of course, even though all of jt would eventually wash off, humiliation, itself,  should be enough to point the error of a rail-rider's ways, but whether or not it would make a change in the heart, only God would know.  Some folks learn from only once.

And that's what I get from My Box of Chocolates right here in my little corner studio under the shadow of Kyle Field


James G Austin '69

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