A Letter To Our “Keepers”

Via Susan

 

You see, you underestimated me. I was never afraid. I was never a coward. Just because I like to cook doesn’t mean I won’t be a damned fine shot when the time comes, physically, verbally, or metaphorically. You will find me standing right beside my husband, my sons, and daughter in law, my very large, very Southern redneck kick ass family. We will be there in the middle of a bunch of people you overlooked. They are called Treepers. Some of them know it already, more are learning everyday. We’re here. We’re nationwide, to quote the song. We outnumber you, we out think you, we are your waking nightmare.

We are American men and women in small towns and large cities. We are the young, the old, the cooks and the mechanics, the grandmothers and the preachers. We are the doctors and lawyers, the bakers, and the veterans.

We will resist you wherever you cross that line, we will resist you on street corners, in our homes, our homeschools, and our churches.

Molon Labe. 

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Dear Mr. President, members of Congress, judges, FBI agents, Bureau of Land Management, EPA, IRS, Sheriffs and Chiefs of Police, law enforcement officers, and anyone acting in any capacity for the government who think their job is to keep us down, keep us in our place, keep tabs on us, keep their hand in our pockets, keep inciting racial discord, keep spending money, and the rest of you government lackeys who never actually worked for a paycheck.

It’s time for us to have a conversation. You don’t know me, even though you have sifted through my email, listened to my phone conversations, oversaw my blog and Facebook posts, taxed the hell out of me, never once actually acted on any of those letters, phone calls or emails I sent you expressing my opinion about upcoming bills, or how you govern the country. Let me tell you a little about myself before we get to the meat of the matter.

I am Mrs. Nobody, and I am Mrs. Everybody.

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