I finally attained my Apprentice License today, so that I can at least go dove hunting before I take the Hunter Education Course.
Of course, I forgot that I left all my relevant ID at home, so I thought that I would have to get it another time. My Dad told me that I was already in the computer, so I could probably just give them my Social Security number and get it anyway. I agreed to try it.
This all took place at the Sporting Goods section at Wal*Mart, so I got an inexperienced dude that never did anything like this before. I never have forgiven Wal*Mart for them halting the sale of firearms, but a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.
After typing around on his computer for awhile, he asked if I had any ID, and I answered “No,”.
He typed awhile longer and asked for my Social Security number.
I told him my number, hoping no one of questionable legal status was listening in.
BTW, what’s the Spanish word for “eavesdropping”?
He asked for my date of birth, and I told him, “August 30, 1991.”.
He stopped typing and gently shook his head saying, “Um…uh… that would be…uh…”
I knew what he was stammering on about, he couldn’t think of the system format number for August 30.
Dad eventually said, “That would be: 08/30/91.”
“Oh, yeah.”
He typed some more, and eventually printed out the license. I signed it, and after the twenty dollars and fifty cents worth of filthy lucre changed hands, the deed was done.
Dad remembered only after we got home that before I go hunting, I have to get an HIP Stamp for hunting doves. That amounts to an extra fifty cents worth of filthy lucre, to be forfeited another day.
And so, I have thusly realized that the whole of state-run hunting is a racket.
Basically, I have begged my owners for permission to go hunting.
The governor (read: Marxist Dictator) of Kansas, Kathleen Sebelius, is anti-hunter, so I must plead to my overlords in order to hunt:
“Mother Superior, may I please go a-hunting?”
“Have you successfully passed the running of the gauntlet?”
“Yea.”
“Have you given tithe unto the State?”
“Yea.”
“Have you rendered unto Caesar that which is Caesar’s?”
“Yea, threefold.”
“Then you may hunt, my child, after you pay the Agent Fee.”
10 comments:
Good post... as long as you had your fingers crossed behind your back when you answered in the affirmative to "Have you rendered unto Caesar..." -- since of course your money wasn't really Caesar's in the first place. (-;
Whenever I apply for a license from our federal nannies, I wonder about the extent to which the legal dogma of "The power to license presumes the power to forbid" will come back to haunt me.
Thanks for the comment, Daniel!
It's always good to hear from a fellow Christian.
Someday, they will have outlawed hunting all together, but I'm glad...that'll just save me the time and expense of getting a license. ;-)
Reminds me a lot of the system gone through during the time of Robin Hood for getting a hunting license.
This is what Bastiat would call "legal plunder".
Here's a question for you: Since the government requiring licenses in these matters is unlawful, according to God's Law, should we compromise to keep the Great White Father off of our backs? Or should we begin a precedent of civil disobedience and risk being put in jail and spending looong amounts of time away from our families?
I believe these are the same issues our forefathers dealt with.
I guess my answer is that while it would be quite noble of us to start something now, it would not be practical.
But, I predict VERY interesting times in the VERY, VERY near future, in which case it would be most practical and reasonable to begin acting on these sorts of things.
I only hold off on such things because of the immediate nature of a "hair-trigger" event.
If somebody were to start a legitimate movement towards a practical and non-compromise response to tyrannical legislation tomorrow (that could not be infiltrated by those who would have us done away with!), then I would certainly support that.
At this moment in time, though, it is too early. I suggest that we wait and see what happens for a while longer.
The bellows are blowing, but the iron is not yet hot.
Do you recall what "John has a long mustache" means?
Just wondering. ;)
I accidentally quadruple posted! :(
Awwww....that's French!
Correct!
The French Resistance codes from The Longest Day are almost my favorite part of the whole movie.
"Molasses tomorrow will bring forth cognac."
"The long sob of the violin in autumn wounds my heart with a monotonous languor."
The Krauts just couldn't take a hint.
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