Blind Jack, and Other Local History


Went out with an old rancher yesterday to check out some abandoned mines on his place. I knew his ranch was the longest owned by the same family in Montana, I didn’t know his great, great, great, great grandfather was a fur trapper here in 1790 (talk about local.) I also heard the story about Blind Jack and his two old maid, school teacher, sisters who homesteaded and grew wheat near Rock Creek. A story about the guy who pulled 1000 ounces of gold supposedly out of a hole no bigger than a truck. A guy by the name of Bell who lived on what is now part of the ranch and would bring all kinds of placer gold to town every so often but died suddenly with the secret of where he was getting it, and all kinds of other great stories.

Advertisements
Published in: on October 20, 2010 at 11:40 pm  Leave a Comment  
Tags: , , ,

Harsh Realities of Non-Citified Life


I stole this title from a forum I belong to, but it really fits my experiences today. I’ve gotten use to not being able to get things like auto parts quickly and reliably, such as the water pump I need for my wife’s truck. Luckily I was never the type of person who required Prosciutto, sushi or Thai food on a short basis. Things like that (the water pump, not the Prosciutto) I pick up on one of our town trips we take about every month. However, today during my fall plow checks I found out I need about a quart of 90W gear oil for The Kaiser’s transmission, and I also needed four quick links to lengthen a pair of chains for my wife’s truck. Our local auto mechanic was out, the only convenience station doesn’t carry it, nor does the grocery store. I will check the hardware store but I’m not holding my breath, they don’t even have the right size quick link, I know this because the quick links I bought yesterday, for the Dodge were the only ones anywhere near that size.

Just another aspect anyone considering moving to a very small town should consider.

Published in: on October 1, 2010 at 8:55 pm  Leave a Comment  
Tags: ,

A Time of Transition


Yesterday I had planned on replacing a fuel line on my big plow truck and an actuation cable on my small plow truck, but a friend stopped by with his kids riding their 4-wheelers

He talked me into putting off my maintenance chores and go riding with them. To be honest it wasn’t that hard for him to do.

We rode for several hours and were nearing a small community (less than 100 people, our whole county has a population of 3000) when a wheel flew off one of the kids ATVs.

Using our rural “do it yourself” traits which typify people here we removed the other wheel and set the wheel-less end of the incapacitated ATV on the cargo rack of one of the other ATVs and started heading back.

On the way back I ran across a patch of wild Shaggy Mane mushrooms and picked a bunch. After arriving home I realized I didn’t have any beef streak and decided to go to town to purchase some and give away the extra mushrooms I wouldn’t be using.

At my first stop I was informed that my friends there don’t like any type of mushrooms, and people keep giving them to them. I left with my original bag of Shaggy Manes and three more bags of Morels which they didn’t want. Not wanting to risk quadrupling my mushrooms again I picked a friend who I knew liked wild mushrooms and sneaked the bag of Manes onto his porch and went home. I wrapped up the day by cooking a white wine, butter, baby (homegrown) shallot and wild mushroom sauce for my steak.

Now that The Gulch Home is nearing completion I figured I’d pick up some part-time work to help keep me busy this winter. I had heard the local mill was looking to start running on weekends so I stopped by. It’s kind of funny how being in that chair hasn’t changed. I totally forgot I didn’t really need the work, that I had my own business at one time, and that I wasn’t a teenage kid anymore. Sweaty palm and the whole works. Like an old friend of mine use to say: “It’s all chemical.”

Published in: on September 27, 2010 at 6:42 pm  Comments (3)  
Tags: , ,

Big Wood


Yesterday the little lady said she thought my wood was excessive and was worried about it hurting people. Sheesh.

Photobucket

Photobucket

Photobucket

Photobucket

Published in: on September 4, 2010 at 10:51 pm  Leave a Comment  
Tags: , , ,

Berry Week


Today we as a family went to a new raspberry patch I found this year and each filled a quart jar in about half an hour.

Photobucket

Tomorrow we pick elderberries, I expect at least a couple of gallons. Thursday we pick Huckleberries/whortleberries, and Friday we go back to raspberries.

We got down into the thirties last night and lost all our squash/peppers and a few potato plants. We harvested our first turnip of the year yesterday. The fava plants are doing great:

Photobucket

Photobucket

I finished the last “must do” infrastructure project of the year today, our spring house entryway:

Photobucket

Published in: on August 25, 2010 at 1:34 am  Comments (6)  
Tags: , , , ,

Extreme Gardening


This time of year I’m usually busy getting the garden in. The following picture I took this morning will explain why I’m writing about gardening instead of actually doing it:
Photobucket

Growing your own food above 6000 feet in the Northern Rockies is a challenge. I figured I’d be alright. Hell, I direct sowed tomatoes and hot peppers at almost 8000 feet where we use to live, even though everyone said it wouldn’t work.

Here is the history of gardening in Goat’s Gulch. Our first spring I ordered several hundred dollars worth of plants from Gurney’s, I broke sod on two 4X10 beds and planted two types of asparagus in them. I also planted over a dozen blueberry bushes, several currants, raspberries, and rhubarb plants and four apple trees. None of these plants are still alive. Even though I planted the domestic raspberries within feet of some of their wild cousins on our property they didn’t reappear the next spring. The Blueberries all died even though 70% of our 30 acres are covered with wild Huckleberries and Alpine Whortleberries both relatives of domesticated Blueberries.

The second year I dug a third bed and planted a bunch of Jerusalem Artichokes which a friend had traded me for some Whortleberries plants. Now these relatives of the Sunflower are always described as having a weed like ability to take over a garden. They all died the following year.

I dug another garden bed the second year to start running vegetables trials in. I planted all the types of root crop seeds I had. We had our first success with the Turnips, Rutabagas, Radishes and Beets. Our first (and only to date) root crop failure was with the Parsnips.

The next year I dug a fifth bed specifically for garlic that year I fall planted it; the following year I spring planted it. The Garlic hasn’t been a complete failure however it hasn’t been a complete success yet either. I will continue experimenting with it.

That third year I planted five different types of Radishes, Turnips, Rutabagas, and around six different types of Beets. Because the garden beds were so small I really pushed the limits of intensive gardening that year. My rows were spaced six inches apart and everything was planted one inch apart. I would pick “baby” beets, etc. every couple of days so there would be enough room for the others to grow. This spacing would end up screwing me with no mature roots the following year when I didn’t harvest nearly so often, but worked great this year. The third year we also had our first success with a non-root crop; lettuce. However, the cabbage we tried that year failed.

The following year (last year) we planted everything we had had success with so far; Turnips, Rutabagas, Beets, Radishes and lettuce. We also added spinach, mustard greens, several oriental greens, peas, carrots, onions and potatoes. All of these did well except the potatoes needed more time (we planted two weeks earlier this year) the peas failed to climb the lodge-pole saplings we provided for them (they are now planted along the interior fence,) and the Bok Choy bolted almost immediately. The onions did better than any other crop we have tried so far. We had a failed experimental run of green beans last year as well.

Last year I also built a separate hot bed (in a different location) for growing corn, sunflowers, and members the Cucurbitaceae Family (melons, squash, cukes.) I had huge hopes for all of these, everything had emerged in about a week and the corn was already 4 inches high when the local chipmunk population found the beds. The death toll of my baby plants in two days was only beaten by the death toll of the local chipmunk population the following week. For most of my life I’ve killed animals to eat, or to end their misery. However, never before this time had I really enjoyed the actual kill. It was like Lord of the Flies, with a lawn chair, a .22 rifle and beer.

This year we combined five of the six lower beds, and expanded them towards the south by about 12 feet. The goal is to eventually (this spring) run this area all the way to the south to the unused Jerusalem artichoke bed. I had hoped to try the upper hot bed again, but since the chickens have been scratching in there every day (the goat hay was stored in that area over the winter) I will need much more chicken wire than I current have to keep them out. We have already planted 7 rows of colored potatoes (seed we saved from last year,) five rows of onion sets (including a trial run of eight shallots,) and two rows of peas (snap, garden, and snow.)

In a few days (after this damn snow stops) we will be planting an experimental row of Fava beans (I have high hopes for this cool weather bean,) two rows of beets (mostly canners,) three rows of carrots, one row of turnips and rutabagas, and three rows of spinach.

In about a week we will be inter-planting (with the spuds and onions) experimental runs of Cabbage, Kale, Kohlrabi, and Brussels Sprouts.

On or around June 7th we will be planting our last experimental runs for the year. These include several rows of green beans inter-planted with the potatoes, two hills each of five different types of early C. pepo squash, several different types of cucumbers and four different types of corn.

A lot of people say a person can’t grow a garden up here. In a sense they are right; if a person thought they’d just throw some seeds in the ground after some sort of SHTF scenario, those people would starve. However, we have proven that if a person spends the time necessary to find out what works and what doesn’t, growing a garden here is possible.

More F-ing Snow


It’s been snowing for almost a week now. Not much is sticking, just a constant couple of inches on the ground. All the work in the garden has stopped, my hope to get the peas in the ground yesterday failed. We had planned a Mayday Party, I canceled that yesterday also. Frustration is my word of the week. There is a little bit of Sheetrock left I could do (the six inch strips on the crowns between the log rafters,) but I’m not motivated enough to do it. All I want to do is play Hobbit and get my hands in our good tilled earth and celebrate the work with an ale and some good pipe weed. Oh, well. I know spring will eventually come, it always has in the past.

On another completely different topic; I heard a great quote on a Sam Elliot movie called Gone to Texas:

A corrupt and distant government, holding power over a vast territory with a population that loves freedom and independence. That sounds to me like the very prescription for revolution.

This quote was spoken about the Mexican government when it ruled the territory of Texas. However, it reminds me of several of our States today also.

Published in: on May 2, 2010 at 9:13 pm  Comments (3)  
Tags: , , , ,

Montana!


A friend of mine once told me a person doesn’t really qualify as a Montanan until they’ve got twenty winters under their belt. He said there was a fifty percent reduction if those winters were spent in what we call “West Dakota” or “The Flats”. I’ve traveled though that area twice and I’d have to say I agree with him. I’ve considered petitioning for a reduction for myself since we live off-grid on the side of a mountain. I haven’t because I doubt that would impress a man who lives off-grid in a seven by seven foot shack. People up here are a tough bunch. My favorite bartender here spent her first two winters in a wall tent. It doesn’t take long for a person to learn to tell the difference between a real Montanan and someone who just has a summer place. A real Montanan will look you in the eye and not rush anything while you talk with them. They don’t use wishy-washy phrases like “I believe” or “I think” or “I hope”. This is a land of absolutes. Hoping doesn’t save the life of a stuck calf at 3:00AM on a subzero February morning. A real Montanan doesn’t “think” a tree will fall in a direction that won’t kill those men sawing around him; he knows. A real Montana doesn’t “believe” the elk will be bedding down during a blizzard, he knows because he’s spent the time to learn the ways of this country, and this country won’t accept excuses.

I have lived here in Montana for five years. I wasn’t lucky enough to have been born here but at least I was lucky enough to have been born in the Rocky Mountains. I came from what I thought of as the sparsely populated corner of Colorado. I didn’t really understand what sparsely populated meant until I got here. There are places here that a person looking hard will get eyestrain before they find any people.

“The Last Best Place” is a phrase often used to describe this state. Some people will add “to Hide” to that also. We have a reputation for having “unusual” people here. I never met Ted Kaczynski or “Uncle Teddy” as he’s called up here, but I know people who have. The same goes for the Trochmanns who founded The Militia of Montana. I never met Elizabeth Clare Prophet, or any of The Freemen but I understand how all these people came to call Montana home.

Ever since people formed clans and tribes there have always been those of us who haven’t belonged. Until recently this wasn’t problem. We would just strike out for “parts unknown” maybe after flipping a bird in the direction we left behind. The places beyond the edge of the maps were where we couldn’t be found. We embodied the wilderness we called home and it shaped us at least as much as we shaped it.

There are no places left for a person to disappear to in this modern world. I fanaticize about a day that private colony ships can leave for astral bodies but I doubt I will live to see it. Those of us stuck here have to make do the best we can. We are, generally speaking, peaceful people who just want to be left alone. If given the option we will relocate to find what we seek before attempting to force our views on others. This just makes sense because having others views forced on us is what we are trying to escape.

Montana is one of the few States left in this union that still has a remnant of the freedom to be different this country was founded on. Our politics and laws reflect this sense of freedom; we have waged more state sovereignty battles than any other state. We have drafted a secession bill, twice, we said “hell no” to the national I.D. plan, we were the first state to declared we could make any firearms we want no matter what the federal government thought, we were the only state to abolish speed limits, anybody can conceal carry without a permit in over ninety nine percent of the state, we told the feds we wouldn’t enforce any laws contrary to our medical marijuana law, our open contain law is a zero point/fifty dollar fine that can be paid on the side of the road while you’re still holding your beer as long as you aren’t drunk, every citizen in this state is issued a de-facto license to have guns within the federal gun free school zones outside of schools, and I know there are even more pro-freedom laws that I’m forgetting.

I like to envision the population of this country like the wine in a brandy distiller’s equipment: the more volatile elements are released as the federal government turns up the heat and we all collect here where it’s cooler. Left behind is an off-flavored inert residue in the rest of the country, and a intoxicating but dangerous mixture here. With the growing number of Rights violating laws being passed at the federal level I expect the exodus of freedom seeking individuals from the other states to continue here for some time. I expect in the near future we will see a show down with the federal government. It is my dearest wish that this is a bloodless revolution that leads to the sovereign country of Montana being formed. However, I also know how dangerous a cornered animal can be and that’s basically what us here in Montana have become.

I Lost a Friend


I lost a friend the other day. Not a flesh and blood friend but a whole internet community. I joined a writer’s forum when I decided to start writing again. This was a neat little community composed of members from all over the world. I made several flesh and blood friends there who I’m sure will be reading this, so I better say “Hi” to at least Penny, Link, and Jon before going any further. Right off the bat I had some problems with the moderation policy but chose to voluntarily censor myself in order to be part of the community. It was private property and I understood (and respected) exactly what that meant. I thought everything was going smoothly until I posted a picture of a couple of firearms I own. This picture was in a thread specifically for the purpose of off topic (non-writer related) pictures. It was deleted and one of the moderators posted a tirade (In thirty point red characters) about how “heavy weaponry” was inappropriate. I went and reread the contract I agreed to (the rules) and couldn’t find anything that could possibly backup that statement. I decided I needed to explain myself, since I was getting the feeling that he and possibly others had an incorrect view of who I was. I also wanted to get to the root of the rabid anti-gun sentiment. So I made the following “blog” post there:

I very rarely explain myself, so anyone reading this should feel very privileged. I feel if someone makes false assumptions they will eventually get what they deserve. However, since I felt so at ease here maybe I didn’t explain my position as fully as I should have before voicing some of my more radical views (or “offensive” pictures.)….
….I believe every single person on the face of this planet has the same rights. More specifically I believe any person can do whatever they want as long as those actions don’t interfere with anyone else’s ability to do the same. Because of this I argue with religious fundamentalists (Christian/Jewish/Muslim) about their church’s policies of religious persecution against other religions. I argue with liberals about their belief they can deprive people of methods of self-defense (gun laws.) I argue with conservatives about their belief they can tell others what they can ingest (drug laws.) I argue with both liberals and conservatives about the theft of other’s labors (taxes.) I argue with conservatives about this country’s neo-imperialism (the war in Iraq). I argue with liberals about property rights (environmental laws.) I argue with conservatives about civil rights (The 1984esque Big Bother surveillance state.)I argue with liberals about “affirmative action”. I argue with conservatives about their opinions about homosexuals. I argue with anyone who thinks zoning/planning is not a violation of property rights. I argue with everyone about immigration laws (there shouldn’t be any.) However, in this case I’m not arguing for any actions on the recent event but feel I have a right to explain myself.

I don’t believe anybody can deprive another person of any of their Rights. My writing and posts will almost always reflect this. If this poses an insurmountable problem for members here I will stop sharing my work and opinions.

I know I followed the rules for the picture thread in “The Lounge” that ****** had posted just a few pages prior to my post e.g. It was a picture that I had taken. Even though it didn’t violate the board rules by being pornographic, racist, spam, illegal (I legally own all the items*that were in the picture) etc. I apologize for missing the rule stating nothing could be considered scary by anyone at anytime for any reason. In my defense I hadn’t expected to find such a rule in a forum that should encourage creativity, and that must be why I missed it.

*The pictured items in question were firearms. These tools of equalization should not be feared by anyone. The smallest one pictured my wife carries everyday and because of that I never worry about her being raped or murdered just because someone is physically stronger than her. The middle sized one is a MBR (Main Battle Rifle) this is a semi-auto version of the current U.S. military infantryman’s weapon. I have used that weapon to kill only once; when a bear that had killed several of my baby goats attacked one of our nannies in her goat house. The largest weapon is a .50BMG it is the largest firearm most Americans can legally own. I say most because ownership is illegal in some states like California and New York, but here in Montana it is commonly owned. (Even larger weapons can be legally owned in this country if an individual pays a fifty dollar tax.) That weapon is capable of easily killing beyond 1000 yards (1 Kilometer.) However it has never be shot at anything besides lifeless targets. I love guns. I love the thrill of shooting them. I love the beauty of the craftsmanship that is required to make them, but most of all I love the freedom they guarantee. A fact that should be better known is that all genocides in history were preceded by government imposed firearm restrictions. Millions of Russians Stalin murdered (including a fair number of writers), the Cambodians (also including a large number of writers) that were sent to “The Killing Fields”, and the Jews in Warsaw in 1943 all should have taken firearm ownership more seriously. If they had they would have had a better chance of not being murdered.

The following are some thoughts on this topic by the founders of my country:

Before a standing army can rule, the people must be disarmed; as they are in almost every kingdom in Europe. The supreme power in America cannot enforce unjust laws by the sword; because the whole body of the people are armed, and constitute a force superior to any band of regular troops that can be, on any pretense, raised in the United States. A military force, at the command of Congress, can execute no laws, but such as the people perceive to be just and constitutional; for they will possess the power, and jealousy will instantly inspire the inclination, to resist the execution of a law which appears to them unjust and oppressive.
—Noah Webster, An Examination of the Leading Principles of the Federal Constitution (Philadelphia 1787).

Who are the militia? Are they not ourselves? Is it feared, then, that we shall turn our arms each man gainst his own bosom. Congress have no power to disarm the militia. Their swords, and every other terrible implement of the soldier, are the birthright of an American…[T]he unlimited power of the sword is not in the hands of either the federal or state governments, but, where I trust in God it will ever remain, in the hands of the people.
—Tenche Coxe, The Pennsylvania Gazette, Feb. 20, 1788.

[W]hen the resolution of enslaving America was formed in Great Britain, the British Parliament was advised by an artful man, who was governor of Pennsylvania, to disarm the people; that it was the best and most effectual way to enslave them; but that they should not do it openly, but weaken them, and let them sink gradually…I ask, who are the militia? They consist of now of the whole people, except a few public officers. But I cannot say who will be the militia of the future day. If that paper on the table gets no alteration, the militia of the future day may not consist of all classes, high and low, and rich and poor…
—George Mason

Because of this post I was able to engage the two moderators in a discussion about what happened. They claimed it (the picture) violated the rules because it wasn’t writer related. I then asked one of them how a picture of his dog he had just posted in that same thread was “writer related” and he backtracked and said the picture was “offensive”. I argued quite successfully (I believe) against this point. I was successful if measured by the fact they stopped debating it. I took the high road and didn’t even need to point out that that same thread had pictures a member had taken of herself half-naked, bound in handcuffs and gagged, (which incidentally I liked even more than my gun picture.)

I thought that was the end of it, and was quite proud of being able to dispel some common misconceptions about firearm ownership. However, the next day three members that a friend of mine would classify as “Euro-pussies” except for the surprising “Aussie-pussy” posted emotional based arguments about how guns are “vulgar barbaric killing machines”. I tried to get these members to put aside emotions and try some logical debate but to no avail. I doubt they even looked at the excellent JPFO (Jews for the Preservation of Firearm Ownership) genocide and gun laws correlation chart I linked:

Photobucket
http://www.jpfo.org/

I eventual got them to, if not reevaluate their positions, to at least shut up with the following post:

“So you three would support a blanket ban of all Israeli and Swiss members here since they must be barbaric killers because they are required by their laws to own and know how to use firearms.”

The next day when I logged in I found out I had been banned with no type of explanation. They also Memory Holed almost all of my substantial posts. The exceptions to the purge were every single short story I had shared there. I suspect they kept these to lend a sense of credibility to the board. Oh well, good bye. Sometimes it takes a little while to discover someone you thought was your friend really isn’t.

Thankfully I still have, if not my oldest, my dearest internet forum. Ironically enough I suspect the percentage of members who have been published there is higher than at the writer’s forum I was banned from. It’s a place where all the rules can be summed up in ten words; nothing illegal, no spam, and no disclosure of other’s personal information. Only once were moderator actions used there (for a death threat) and even that was debated by all the board’s members including the member who made the threat. It’s the kind of place where an original member of the CPC (Certain Persons Cabal) like me can feel free and write whatever I want without worry of censorship. Sometimes posts are not made in the best place, or a thread might be “jacked” way beyond recognition, or a booby picture might be posted but I can live with that. Like Benjamin Franklin said:

“They who can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety, deserve neither liberty nor safety.”

Since I believe in all forms of freedom including the freedom of expression, I welcome anyone who disagrees with any of this post to share their opinions as a comment. I do not moderate and I promise any comments will not be edited as long as they comply with the very loose rules of my favorite forum; nothing illegal, no spam, and no disclosure of other’s personal information.

The “horribly offensive, vulgar, barbaric, killing machines” picture:
Photobucket
See the malicious twinkle in the eyepiece of the scope? Can’t you just sense them plotting to murder babies as they sit there?

I’m Not a Terrorist


I had just finished throwing a pitchfork full of hay in the goat’s manger when I heard the helicopter. My family and I live in such a sparsely populated area that this isn’t a common occurrence. Most worrisome was the fact that it was towing something that looked like a giant torpedo. I caught myself thinking: well they’ve finally come for me. My reaction got me thinking about how a person such as me could end up thinking about the possibility of being murdered by someone in a helicopter.

Less than ten years ago I was a typical American. I was a partner in a small business, was in debt up to my ears, had our children enrolled in public school, happily paid my taxes and voted every four years. Then things started changing. The elementary school my daughter attended told my wife and me that we would have to force our daughter take speed. They called it Ritalin but on the street this same drug is sold as speed. We agreed, but just a few months later my daughter asked me if she could stop. She was crying and said it made her “not feel right”. I did what would any other parent would have done. I called the school and told them I wasn’t going to continue forcing her to take the drug. They told me if I didn’t she couldn’t attend anymore. The only solution we could afford was to home-school her.

I had read Atlas Shrugged about a year before we started homeschooling and was so moved by Ayn Rand’s book I declared myself a Libertarian. I would eventually become our county’s Libertarian Party Contact, and would wage many battles against the local government. During this time I started looking into aspects of our Constitution that weren’t covered in my High School civics class. I had several of my Letters to the Editor published in the local paper. In these letters I argued against the constitutionality of the proposed county Growth Policy, and other legislative acts. Because of our efforts we were able to get the growth plan severely scaled back. We fell short of a complete victory because it was still instigated in its less egregious form.

Our business was still fairly young but it did provide us with full time employment even if the pay was less than spectacular. Then the business won a bid to provide services to a global company. This company expected sixty hours per week of work in a neighboring state. I was the only employee available for this work. For several months I worked those sixty hours. My weeks were averaging more than eighty hours with the commute. I was thrilled about this much work. The hourly billing rate was the highest I had ever billed out and I knew I was soon going to be living the American Dream. This dream came crashing down upon my shoulders the day our CPA explained the IRS needed all the money we had saved in the business account and it still wasn’t enough to cover what we owed. We had to take out a sizable loan to cover the rest.
The one-two punch of losing most of our property rights to the Growth Policy and losing most of the fruits of my labors to the IRS inspired me to go ahead with a plan I considered after finishing Atlas Shrugged. We Shrugged. Now days what we did is called “Going Galt” however this same thing has been happening ever since Rand wrote the book and was historically called “Shrugging” or “Gulching”. The phrase Shrugging comes from an analogy to the mythical Atlas realizing that he is shouldering the weight of the world and rejecting this burden. Like Atlas more of my labor was stolen via taxes just because I was more capable. The difference in my earnings between working eighty hour weeks barely exceeded what I earned working forty hour weeks. I was converted from an entrepreneur who believed in the American dream to a slave with the IRS as my master. Like all slaves I decided I wouldn’t work any harder than I was force to.

My wife and I gave up our interests in the business. We sold our home at the peak of the real estate market and took those profits with us as we hit the road seeking a new way of life. After several months of traveling the Rockies in our vintage Airstream we found a small mountain town in Montana. The town had the feel of freedom. There wasn’t a single stop light or parking meter. The bars provided people “to go” cups. A woman in town had a pet cow. There were no city cops or even a dog catcher. We purchased two mining claims above this little town. I built an off-grid log home. We planted a garden and purchased livestock.

We now live comfortably near the poverty line because we are debt free and mostly self-sufficient. We hope the government shrinks back to a reasonable level or disappears all together but even if it doesn’t we’ve made our own freedom. We no longer support an entity whose only purpose has morphed into nothing more than a vehicle to enslave citizens. Because of this I fear the government has classified me as a terrorist. I guess from their point of view I might just be; I do hope my actions inspire others to follow my example and I can see how losing tax revenues from the most productive section of the population could terrify them. However, even if I home school my children, can quote the constitution and avoid paying taxes I’m not a terrorist. A few weeks after seeing the helicopter I discovered that it was just a magnetic survey of all the mining claims around ours but I still worry about what the slave masters might someday do because I refuse to live as an indentured servant.

Published in: on March 28, 2010 at 3:46 am  Comments (1)  
Tags: , , ,