The Bill Of No Rights

The famed "Bill of No Rights" was written in 1993 by Bill Napper, a self-described amateur philosopher. He is from Mississippi, and ran for a U.S. Senate seat in 2000, as a Libertarian.

It is said that it resonates with a number of issues, including the one which most often causes our ire to rise, which is the sense of entitlement, so prevalent in today's society.

The Bill of No Rights

"We, the sensible people of the United States, in an attempt to help everyone get along, restore some semblance of justice, avoid any more riots, keep our nation safe, promote positive behavior, and secure the blessings of debt-free liberty to ourselves and our great-great-great-grandchildren, hereby try one more time to ordain and establish some common sense guidelines for the terminally whiny, guilt-ridden, deluded, and other liberal bed-wetters. We hold these truths to be self-evident: that a whole lot of people are confused by the Bill of Rights and are so dim that they require a Bill of No Rights."

ARTICLE I:
You do not have the right to a new car, big screen TV or any other form of wealth. More power to you if you can legally acquire them, but no one is guaranteeing anything.

ARTICLE II:
You do not have the right to never be offended. This country is based on freedom, and that means freedom for everyone — not just you! You may leave the room, change the channel, or express a different opinion, but the world is full of idiots, and probably always will be.

ARTICLE III:
You do not have the right to be free from harm. If you stick a screwdriver in your eye, learn to be more careful, do not expect the tool manufacturer to make you and all your relatives independently wealthy.

ARTICLE IV:
You do not have the right to free food and housing. Americans are the most charitable people to be found, and will gladly help anyone in need, but we are quickly growing weary of subsidizing generation after generation of professional couch potatoes who achieve nothing more than the creation of another generation of professional couch potatoes.

ARTICLE V:
You do not have the right to free health care That would be nice, but from the looks of public housing, we're just not interested in public health care.

ARTICLE VI:
You do not have the right to physically harm other people. If you kidnap, rape, intentionally maim, or kill someone, don't be surprised if the rest of us want to see you fry in the electric chair.

ARTICLE VII:
You do not have the right to the possessions of others. If you rob, cheat or coerce away the goods or services of other citizens, don't be surprised if the rest of us get together and lock you away in a place where you still won't have the right to a big screen color TV or a life of leisure.

ARTICLE VIII:
You don't have the right to demand that our children risk their lives in foreign wars to soothe your aching conscience. We hate oppressive governments and won't lift a finger to stop you from going to fight if you'd like. However, we do not enjoy parenting the entire world and do not want to spend so much of our time battling each and every little tyrant with a military uniform and a funny hat.

ARTICLE IX:
You don't have the right to a job. Sure, all of us want all of you to have one, and will gladly help you along in hard times, but we expect you to take advantage of the opportunities of education and vocational training laid before you to make yourself useful.

ARTICLE X:
You do not have the right to happiness. Being an American means that you have the right to pursue happiness — which, by the way, is a lot easier if you are unencumbered by an overabundance of idiotic laws created by those of you who were confused by the Bill of Rights.

*Unfortunately, those whom the author had in mind when he wrote this ,will probably never read it.

C'est la vie.

A Mule Story

This is a story told often by Brandt Ayers, who is owner and publisher of my down-home newspaper, The Anniston Star. He has published it at least a couple of times over the years, and it is just too good not to share with my friends.

Brandt Ayers: A mule and a horn
We had stopped for gas at the small, north Georgia town of Greensboro. A headline on page 4 of the local weekly, The Herald-Journal, caught my eye, "Story About Horace The Mule."
Back on the road, I repeated the headline to Josephine who exclaimed, "Not OUR Horace." It turns out the tale (some say it's true) features Josephine's great aunt Fan Lamb, mistress of the family plantation, Greenfield, in eastern North Carolina.
The saga of Horace was told by a family friend and fabled North Carolina raconteur, the late Edmund Harding. For years it was a Christmas Eve tradition in Tarheel papers, but its good-natured commentary on life's surprises seems more appropriate as a greeting to the New Year.
— H.B.A.
HORACE THE MULE
Mrs. George Wood, now deceased, of Chowan County, had a mule, who was named Horace. On Christmas Eve she called up Dr. Satterfield in Edenton and said to him, "Doctor, Horace is sick, and I wish you would come take a look at him."
Dr. Satterfield said, "Oh Fanilamb, its after 6 o'clock and I'm eating my Christmas Eve dinner. Give Horace a dose of mineral oil and if he isn't all right in the morning phone me and I'll come out and take a look at him."
"How'll I give it to him?" she inquired.
"Through a funnel," replied the good doctor.
"He might bite me!" she protested.
"Oh, Fanilamb — you're a farm woman, and you know about these things. Give it to him through the other end."
So Fanilamb went out to the barn, and there stood Horace, with his head held down, just moaning and groaning.
She looked around for a funnel, but the nearest thing she could see to one was her Uncle Bill's fox hunting horn, hanging on the wall, a gold-plated instrument with gold tassels hanging from it.
She took the horn and affixed it properly. Horace turned his head, but paid no attention.
Then she reached up on the shelf where medicines for the farm animals were kept. But instead of picking up the mineral oil, she picked up a bottle of turpentine and she poured a liberal dose into the horn.
Horace raised his head with a sudden jerk. He let out a yell that could have been heard a mile away. He reared up on his hind legs, brought his front legs down, knocked out the side of the barn, jumped a five-foot fence and started down the road at a mad gallop.
Now Horace was in pain, so every few jumps he made, that horn would blow. All the dogs in the neighborhood knew that when that horn was blowing it meant that Uncle Bill was going fox hunting. So down the highway they went, close on Horace's heels.
It was a marvelous sight! First, Horace — running at top speed; the horn, in a most unusual position, the mellow notes issuing therefrom; the tassels waving; and the dogs, barking joyously.
They passed by the home of Old Man Harvey Hogan, who was sitting on his front porch, well "into the cups" as they say down east. He hadn't drawn a sober breath in 15 years, and he gazed in fascinated amazement at the sight that unfolded itself before his eyes.
Incidentally, Harvey is now head man of Alcoholics Anonymous in the Albemarle section of the state.
By this time it was good and dark. Horace and the dogs were approaching the Chowan River Bridge. The bridge-tender heard the horn blowing and figured a boat was approaching. So he hurriedly went out and elevated the bridge.
Horace went over the edge, straight into the river and was drowned. The dogs jumped into the water after him, but they could swim and climbed out without much difficulty.
Now it so happened that the bridge-tender was running for the office of Sheriff of Chowan County, but he managed to get only seven votes. The people figured that any man who didn't know the difference between a mule with a horn up his rear and a boat coming down the Intercoastal Waterway wasn't fit to hold any public office in Chowan County.

*No, the picture is not of Horace, but it is the best that I could come up with at the moment!

From Our House To Yours

Very Happy New Year's Wishes From Our House To Yours!

Today, I wish you a day of ordinary miracles. A fresh pot of coffee you didn't have to make yourself. An unexpected phone call from an old friend. Green stoplights on your way to work or shop. I wish you a day of little things to rejoice in.

I wish for you the fastest line at the grocery store. A good sing along song on the radio. Your keys right where you look. I wish you a day of happiness and perfection--little bite-size pieces of perfection that give you the funny feeling that the Lord is smiling on you, holding you so gently because you are someone special and rare.

I wish you a day of Peace, Happiness and Joy.

All these things I wish for you today, and more, throughout the coming New Year.

May your fondest wishes come true, and may you realize the desire of your heart!