Wanna-be bootlegger

Chesterton spoke as a seer when he said, “The act of defending any of the cardinal virtues has today all the exhilaration of a vice.” It is more true today than when he said it.

In fact, recent events in the nation have stirred up in me a certain rebellious streak that wants to stand against oppressive laws in the name of virtue. To be specific, I have this nagging desire to become a bootlegger. It isn’t to make tons of money–though my product would certainly find a market. No, I simply want to stick it to “the man” of the 21st century–those marxist progressives in government who think they are intended to rule rather than govern.

More precisely, I want to become a milk runner. I’d like to carry raw milk from the legal market of SC to the illegal market of NC. Or, even more exciting, I’d love to join one of those dangerous Pennsylvania gangs building their illegal fortune from selling raw milk. You probably know them as the Amish. (Don’t let the 18th century clothing and horse and buggy fool you, they are a real threat to society.)

I am, of course, confessing it here beforehand to assure that I never actually do it. (Picture me as the small kid jumping behind a bigger friend then yelling at the bully, “let me at him.”)

Still, I can dream and write with sarcasm so subtle it is undetectable. At the very least I will continue to publicize the injustices that everyone else forgets so quickly–like federal officers conducting an armed raid on an Amish farm for selling raw milk. I will never actually live the dream of being a bootlegger for such dangerous Amish raw milk crime syndicate–but at the very least in 30 years I won’t have to say to my grandchildren, “they came for the Amish and I said nothing.”


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