- Town buys out Budges
- GET OUT: Picnic pleasures
- WELL, THAT HAPPENED: Dogs over democracy?
- THE BUZZ: Homestead Act II
- FEATURE: Craighead’s Water World
- THE BUZZ: The Beautiful struggle
- CREATIVE PEAKS: Time and spaces
- MUSIC BOX: Finest tunes
- THE FOODIE FILES: Centenarian secrets
- THE BUZZ: Teewinot claims two
REDNECK PERSPECTIVE: Fishin’ for votes in hot water
JACKSON HOLE, WYO – Alice was in an angry mood when she stopped by my trailer last night. She is often angry, as she is, after all, a Republican. She once expressed her fury with a fervent display of lust, but since she took up recreational sadomasochism I found her wrath a bit intimidating.
“What did Obama do this time?” I asked with apprehension.
“It’s not Obama, well of course it’s Obama, but I’m mad at the Wyoming press for making such a big deal of Liz Cheney buying a resident fishing license when she wasn’t a resident,” Alice fumed. “It’s like the News&Guide printing a picture of a bareback bronc ride on their front page last week and calling it a saddle bronc. Who cares? Nobody in Vail would know the difference.”
I gulped. In truth, I was angry with Liz for getting away with claiming residency then blaming it on the clerk. It’s not that I am so naive as to believe politicians should follow the same rules as everyone else, but what’s wrong with stealing, drug use, influence and vote selling, bribery, and having illicit sex in turns, er, I mean with interns?
As for myself, I never violate game laws without good reason. I never hunt in a closed area except when there are elk in the closed area. I don’t shoot before shooting hours unless I see an elk. Like many native Wyomingites, I take an expansive view of hunting regulation interpretation.
But when caught by a game warden we do not whine, do not blame someone else, and do not expect preferential treatment. The reason we don’t is because it does no good. The wardens, (they are a group singularly lacking in understanding, compassion or charm) will tell us that hunting and fishing is a privilege and it’s the responsibility of a sportsman to know the rules and to know if they are in a closed area or on Harrison Ford’s place when hunting geese. They even have the responsibility part written in the regulations!
Alice was slapping the edge of her leg with a riding quirt so I decided it was best to keep my concerns to myself.
“Liz should have never tweeted the picture of her holding a fish on the South Fork,” Alice complained.
“The South Fork?” I was surprised. The South Fork is in Idaho.
Suddenly my disdain for Liz turned into admiration. She was poaching Idaho with an illegal Wyoming license! Awesome!
Taters have been poaching Wyoming elk for decades, yet try to sneak to their side and they get high and mighty about it. And spud wardens are related to the spud cops, spud judges and well, everyone in Idaho is related so there is no hope of a fair trial.
I told Alice that even though Liz obtained an illegal Wyoming license, since she used it in Idaho she had my vote after all!
Alice was so excited she handed me the quirt. “Make me do what you want,” she said with a sly smile. I swatted her on the rear and said, “Get me a beer.” She returned with a cold Budweiser, already opened.
“What next?” she asked.
I had a sip, then chose some miscellaneous activities that would provide for an amusing evening. I love politics.