CURING THE CULTURE

First, I'm not dead, I'm a Dad... and a husband. Since my last post, life has dealt me some interesting hands that have kept me from my blogging duties. Not to worry though, aside from a hale storm/tornado giving our house a good ol' fashioned ass whoop'n, and a work schedule that went into hyper drive at around the same time, everything has been going pretty well at the Roadhouse...house. And thanks to taking the time to research my choice in homeowners insurance policies when I bought our home ten years ago, the storm damage was well covered and since fixed.

I've written often about how being a conservative is not always easy. Let's face it, part of the mass appeal of liberalism is that it requires little in the way of intellect, foresight, reason, or personal ambition. On the flip side, conservatism is based in the idea that an individual is duty bound to pull his/her own weight, handle his or her own problems and do everything in their power to not put themselves in a position where they would need to depend on or mooch off of others. As expected, actually living this philosophy usually means some type of work and/or sacrifice.
Case in point; recently, we had a major problem with Mrs. Roadhouse's car. As opposed to taking it to the dealership, or "certified" mechanic, I opted to fix it myself. After all, that's what a conservative would do. Especially one who actually knows what those things under the hood do.

No do-it-yourself car project would be complete without a trip to ye-old auto parts store. For many shade tree mechanics, a parts store is also a place to socialize and catch up on local gossip. On this day, another local guy came into the shop as I was waiting for my parts. The conversation turned to what new venture he was starting, as he is known to be involved in various different enterprises. He told the guys behind the counter that he was getting into raising honey bees. I was not really paying attention to any of this until he proudly proclaimed that the government was going to give him $1000.00 per hive.
At that moment he had inadvertently pressed my "on" button. I calmly turned to him and said "I think you meant to say that WE are going to give you $1000.00 a hive...right?" as I motioned to everyone in the store. While looking at me as if I just grown a second head, he asked me what I meant. I reminded him that the government can not spend one plug nickel on anything, until it takes it from someone else first. I suggested to him that by rights, everyone in that store would be entitled to some of the honey from the hives we would be helping to finance, and we would be anxiously awaiting our first jar. Un-amused, he took his quarts of oil and left the store.

This incident, coupled with our government's child-like understanding of free market principals and the actual role of government supports my theory that nothing is going to change for the better in America until we break our addiction to Uncle Sam's ever-helping hand being expected to wipe our ever-dependant rear ends.