Rain and fire

Sabbath eve, January 7, 2011.

It’s been a while since I wrote on a Sabbath eve. I just got in from shutting in the yard chickens so predators can’t get at them. Coyotes were howling; a thin sliver of a moon peaked through clouds as I walked back toward the house. I felt like the weight of the world rested on my shoulders.

I am told by mainstream media that our economy created 150,000 new jobs last month. Of course, that’s a goddamned lie. We’re told the unemployment number is now 9.4% or thereabouts, another goddamned lie. Took me all of ten seconds to look up the real number at shadowstats.com. The number is 22.4%. Almost one in four Americans that would like to be fully employed, aren’t.

Nate Hagens says people suffer cognitive dissonance—the inability to see and understand problems of such magnitude that there’s no apparent solution. Rather than accept that they must change their lifestyle, Americans walk around in a state of denial. The media feeds them soothing lies and positive forecasts which they swallow like a bunch of possums eating shit.

You’d think this being the beginning of man’s day of rest, a holy day, I’d be singing praises to God instead of walking around cussing mad, or if not mad, sad. Truth is, I think if I were God, I’d be damned tired of all these phony motherfuckers singing me songs, all the while refusing to do my will on earth, as in feeding my hungry, healing and caring for my sick, underprivileged and homeless children, and providing gainful employment to those needing jobs rather than hoarding wealth, kicking people out of homes, and devising ways to steal even more.

Friday is payday on our farm. Actually it’s supposed to be Saturday, but I finally broke down and started paying hands on Friday rather than having to listen to all the reasons they need their checks early. I’ve had extra employees hired lately; each week I think I’ll let them go. Then I hear all the trials they’re facing and watch how hard they work, and I just can’t seem to pull the plug. We have managed to pay the bills so far, but I don’t take that for granted. The day could come when the money is gone.

Breakdowns continue to plague us. The parts to fix the machinery are high and always getting higher. Fuel prices have risen above the $3/gallon range, pushing our real economy once again to the breaking point.

The day before Christmas we bought 24 cows and moved them to our Wrightsboro ranch. The place had not been stocked and was covered with tall dead grass. Two cows died unexplainably this week. An employee just called to tell me two more died today. These are young cows dying for no apparent reason. I don’t have a clue why they’re dying but I know one thing. You can’t make money raising calves when the cows die.

I called my cowboy friends and we have decided they're probably eating something poisonous, but once again, I don't know. We decided to try to gather and move them tomorrow morning. That will entail the rapid reconstruction of some makeshift working pens. This I do know. There's no market for cows that die in pastures and dead cows don't produce calves.

One part time Mexican hand working at a neighboring ranch told me he fears deportation, but has to drive anyway. He says the next time a cop tries to stop him he’s going to run. I tell him this doesn't seem like a good plan. He tells me the last three times he was stopped he got deported and it’s getting harder and harder to get back. That the last time a cop tried to stop him he ran his car off into the brush, ditched it and escaped on foot. The guy works his ass off, helping produce the food we eat. He's not a drug dealer. He's not a terrorist. He belongs to no gang. He has a wife. He has children. His wife and his children live here. His children are American citizens. He is not. He wants a job with modest pay. He lives like a hunted animal in these United States so he can stay with and provide for his family.

Like I say, sometimes it feels like I’m carrying the weight of the world and now is one of those times.

Rain doesn’t fall on one house, neither will the fire when it comes.