This is embarrassing, and you probably won’t believe it anyway. But
our little mid-nowhere town of Hardyville has one political throwback.
This guy actually thinks that the way to get smaller government is to
vote for bigger government.

That’s right: He thinks you get smaller government by voting, year
after year, for bigger, more powerful government. I know. It sounds too
crazy for anyone to credit, but there it is.

He calls it “compromise.” And we call him “Compromisin’ Sam.”

Most of us ignore him and go on about our business. After all,
there’s room in the world for all kinds. But there’s one guy who just
can’t resist getting in Sam’s face. Carty — true blue, retired
military, Jesse Ventura lookalike — gets on Sam every time Sam gets
into town. They were at it this week, as they ran into each other near
the Statue of the Drunken Cowboy.

A crowd gathered as Carty barked, “If you don’t stand

for something, you’ll fall for anything.”

Sam spluttered, “You people gotta quit being so pie-in-the-sky, if
you want to get anything done. You look at what you can get, and what
you can’t, then you accept reality. You compromise.”

“I’ll compromise,” said Carty. “On tactics. But the minute you
compromise on principle, you’ve not only lost the battle but lost your

“But you’re gonna lose it, anyway, standing around saying, ‘We won’t
bargain. We have to have everything our own way.'”

“OK. I’ll compromise, then. Tell you what: There are 20,000 gun laws
in the country and every single one violates the Second Amendment. I
want ’em all gone tomorrow. But just to show you I can compromise, I’ll
settle for having 10,000 of them repealed in the next five years — and
I’ll even let Charles Schumer and Dianne Feinstein choose which 10,000.
There’s your compromise. See?”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it? But it’s not ridiculous to always do half of what the other
guys want? Maybe you and your pals can tell me how come compromise means
we only move in their direction instead of them movin’ in

Nat Lyons chipped in, “I think I know. I once went down to the
Territorial Capital, thinking I might get with the big gun-rights lobby
group down there. You know what? They were sittin’ around and one guy
was sayin’, ‘Well, we’d really like to have this.’ Then everybody else
would go, ‘Naw, the legislature’ll never let us have that.’ So then
they’d try to figure out what they could get, and that’s all they’d ask
for. So ‘course, the legislature knew they’d take even less. I mean, can
you picture the Teamsters starting out saying, ‘Well, we can’t ask for
that ’cause General Motors won’t let us have it’?”

“It figures,” Carty nodded. “I’ve heard they do that in D.C.,
. One guy who knows told me — on this new gun-control bill
they’re still tryin’ to get passed — a gun-rights lobbyist was going to
senators and begging them to vote for it, the whole time his big
famous group was publicly yellin’ about how bad it was. I believed it,
because the guy was using the group’s old line, ‘But if you don’t vote
for this, you could get something worse.’ Where have I heard that

“Have you heard about this Bob Smith guy?” Grouchy asked. “He’s not
like that. He’s up there in the Senate right now, stopping that gun bill
from getting into the conference committee. Now, there’s a guy who’s
like the Founding Fathers.”

“Yeah,” Carty scoffed: “But you know why Mr. Senator Smith’s
putting on that big show — I mean, aside from trying to impress people
who want him to run for president in a third-party?”


“Because — and I’m tellin’ you his own words, now — because he wants ‘the weaker
gun control provisions.’
— House version instead the Senate
version. This dude’s no hero, takin’ a big stand to save the Second
Amendment. He’s just gun-grabber ‘lite.’ Then he goes around on talk
shows, sayin’ he doesn’t want any gun control. [Male bovine byproduct.]
Don’t get me wrong, he’s better than the rest of those [bearers of the
bar sinister]. I wish more of ’em had his guts. But don’t go all
starry-eyed. He ain’t your savior.”

Compromisin’ Sam nodded. “That Smith understands reality. You can’t
buck public opinion.”

“[Homonym of buck] public opinion,” snarled Carty. “I’m talking about

“You can talk about rights all you want to,” Sam says, “but that
isn’t gonna get you anywhere.”

“So where’ve we been getting with your [unfavored in the eyes of the
deity] compromisers?” Carty countered. “Have we gotten some gun-rights
back with the NRA making ‘reasonable compromises’? Have your pet
Republicans stopped us from getting national ID? Have
they made government smaller? Got rid of the IRS? What? Tell me.”

“They’ve kept things from getting as bad as they could have,” Sam

“Look, you [child of a politician], things are getting that bad,
! You expect me to be grateful because — thanks to your
compromising pals — it’ll take 10 years for us to become complete
slaves instead of six? Or 20 years instead of 12? You want me to tell
you exactly how grateful that makes me? Let’s just get it over with.
Let’s have it now, right out in the open where we can fight it. The only
thing your compromising friends are doing is numbing us down so we’ll
get used to it and learn to take it.”

“But if we just support–”

“You do what you want, bud. But one thing you can stop doing, right
now — and that’s asking me to help you and your political pals steer on
down the road to tyranny. I don’t care whether you’re going fast or
slow. Here’s the fact. I ain’t goin’ there. So don’t waste your time
trying to tell me why George Jr. or a new tax or a ‘compromise bill’ or
some other politician who says one thing and votes the opposite deserves
my support. Those guys are all going the same direction.

“See that road over there? Hardyville Main Street? It runs in the
exact opposite way. Some of the people on it are usin’ sports cars and
some are usin’ 18-wheelers and a bunch more are towin’ horse trailers.
But not one of ’em’s goin’ your way. We’re goin’ toward freedom —
not away from it — no matter how we have to get there.

“You go wherever you want, Sam. And have a nice trip. But when you
find your pals have stranded you in the sagebrush with nothing but a
broken down old political wreck, and you’re dying of thirst for freedom
and can’t get a single drop, don’t expect anybody to ride to your
rescue. You knew where you were heading when you set off.”

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