T-minus two weeks and all the political calls, signs, ads promising free bread and circuses will be done.
It’s always a little odd writing an article a month before delivery date, as I have no idea if Trump survived another assassination attempt or if Kamala did a third interview or not.
My personal politics are somewhat varied. With three girls at home, my politics are those of a somewhat benevolent dictator. All communication, eating and working is dictated by me. All communication to my daughters’ phones after 9 p.m. is coming to me, and your little 16-year-old boy might need some therapy after the experience.
On the local level, I’m in some ways a socialist in that I believe we should all share in the burden of services such as policing, firefighting and schooling. On the national level, I would be more libertarian and desire to eliminate as much government as possible. Probably not super-shocking that a dairy farmer tends to land on the side of being more conservative.
Living along the West Coast has provided some interesting experiences that aren’t typical through the rest of the country. I had a neighbor call me after spreading manure on a field to inform me that the manure smelled badly and I ought to only spread manure right before a rain. To which I kindly informed him that it was not advisable in my CAFO to spread right before a rain, as well as my apologies for the smell. His response was that the smell was so bad that he didn’t know if he was going to be able to harvest his medical marijuana growing in the garden.
How does someone respond to such a comment? I thought about mentioning that perhaps his plants were growing so well due to the nutrient-rich dairy farm environment they found themselves in. There was a thought that I maybe should be offended by the skunky smell emanating from his environment. In the end, I brought over a Cheech & Chong movie, six bags of Doritos and three sleeves of Oreos. This seemed to appease our new friend.
It has certainly been a wild time the last several years, and we have seemingly lived through several once-in-a-century-type events, from a global pandemic to unprecedented culture shifts and political intrigue. We are less trusting than ever of our politicians, our medical industry and our media.
We went through a time where it was socially acceptable to form mobs of protest and burn cities while being chastised for not wearing a mask in a restaurant. We went through a time where people stormed the Capitol Building. We have a world where the left has moved so far left they are now beholden to big pharma and the war machine. Certainly not the party my new neighbor friend would recognize from the ‘70s. In Washington state at 12 years old, my daughter can have a relationship with her doctor where she is approved to take gender-transitioning hormones and not allow me as her father to know about it.
Politics have consequences, and in the end, the nation gets the leaders they deserve. For all of the frustration and pain, the bright spot is all of the amazing work done in local politics and local communities. It takes the work of all of us in our communities to be involved in school boards, local town hall meetings and even supporting kids in soccer, baseball and football. These are the actions that strengthen our community. Despite what we see or read, we are actually a lot more like our neighbors than we think.
I have to cut this a little short; I just got an alert that the military company stock I bought with Nancy Pelosi was awarded a $100 billion contract, and I may now be able to retire.
