With a thundering whump and a grunt, Clifford flipped over backwards and assumed the “dead dog” position. I swung off my horse and scrambled across the steep mountainside to the site of the impact. This was not Clifford’s first pack string accident, and he moaned softly as if he were enjoying a good nap. Most normal horses would thrash when trapped upside down, but not Clifford. He was not normal.

Adept horsemen choose ponies after carefully studying pedigrees and performance. I chose Clifford, a massive Belgian draft horse, not because he hailed from superior stock, but because his lady owner was trapped in an abusive relationship and needed $800 for a one-way plane ticket back to Florida. At least, such was the story I bought along with Clifford. (See, even we evil conservative Republicans have hearts bigger than our brains. If I was a progressive, I would have used the power of government to force someone else to buy Clifford, yet feel charitable while doing so.)

Clifford was tied to an apple tree on the south side of Laurel, when I handed over the check and then led him to my horse trailer. He stood an amazing 19 hands (76 inches), and had the frame to carry a full ton of flesh if we could ever feed him enough to fill it. He did not exactly fit my string, but he so pegged the novelty meter, I gave him a try.

On this particular day, were about 10 miles into a 12 mile pack and had just forded the Little Horn River at Robinson Crossing. The final quarter-mile climb to the Little Horn Parks is unmercifully steep, and the intermittent trail meandering through the timber is pocked by rockslides and downfall. Packers cautiously snake their strings back and forth up the mountainside enroute to the top. Agile does not describe Belgians and Clifford hit a switchback too tight too turn his massive frame, so over he went. When the thunder stopped, his uphill legs were trapped under a log and the shady side of his belly was now sunny side up. He was too big to just roll him over, but if we left him there he would surely die, and I thought “now what do I do?” This brings me to my point.

A very tiny majority of 62 million voters have flipped our American republic upside down, and just like Clifford, if we leave her there, she will surely die. Over the next four years, in addition to bankrupting us, President Obama may appoint three progressive Supreme Court Justices, who will destroy our Constitution. Suddenly, our right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness will come from government rather than God, and thus can be bequeathed or revoked at the whims of the ruling class. Apparently, 62 million Americans are perfectly fine with this, but I am not and this may be the hill upon which I die.

The 2014, mid-term election is our last chance to elect a conservative majority in the US Senate so as to block the confirmation of progressive judges. This could be the final battle in our war for re-independence, so we have two years to erase 100 years of indoctrination and re-ignite liberty’s torch. Sadly, and closer to home, many Republicans in Montana’s legislature identify themselves as small government conservatives, yet their voting records reveal they have joined the Democrats in advancing the principles of Marx over those of Jefferson, Adams or Madison. We have much work to do. If you have been politically active, perhaps you have not been active enough. On November 16th, I spoke to a newly formed and enthusiastic group of patriots in the small town of Shelby, Montana. My next keynote address is in Great Falls on January 18th of 2013, so I have openings in my schedule to stir the pot—your pot. What say you?