If Unions stood for babies
And rallied to their cry
Abortion mills would close up
And never even…try
And God would bless their number
And heal their dwindling ranks
And babies grown would join them
In an ever, living, thanks
If Unions stood for marriage
And morality of old
And sought the Lord for guidance
Direction, pure, and bold
Then security would follow
And sure blessings, from His hand
And all would bless the Unions
For the day
They chose…to stand
Bob was a jackass. He was a donkey; a beast of burden; a dumb, dependable, doer. His owner, a Tennessee farmer by the name of Ulysses S. Steel, used Bob in the same way that his daddy and granddaddy and great granddaddy used their asses; to plow the forty acres of bottom land that had been passed from one generation to the next from the time that that bloody Yankee, U. S. Grant, came through and beat the Rebs at the battle of Shiloh. Ulysses (a moniker passed on to help “remember”) grew tobacco and, since everything was bought and paid for, only general upkeep needed the occasional coin and, of course, this included fodder…for Bob.
“Darndest thing, doc,” said the chaw chewing southerner to the summoned vet. “Ever since Bob ate the ethanol plant leftovers; well, he’s been acting mighty strange.”
“What do you mean, Ule?”
“Well, just look at ‘em. His lips are a flappin’ nonstop! And the noises he makes. It’s downright creepy.”
Meanwhile, as the two humans approached for a closer gander, the thoughts of the jackass replayed the momentous happenings of the last forty-eight hours.
“It was the dawn of a new day!" recalled the burro. "A glorious sunbeam bursting through the overcast sky! Somehow, after I ate the magic corn, my mind has come alive! I am self aware! I am a sentient being! I now embrace the cool of the night! I caress the canopy of lights with my eyes! I relish the kiss of the dawn and the sweet, sweet smell of the clover and hay! My heart overflows with prose and poetry and I will learn to express these things. I will converse, heart to heart, with my master. Yes, we will share, one with another but first; but first I must learn to speak!”
Looking long into the animated eyes of the formerly dumb beast and hearing the unsettling noises coming from his contorting lips, the vet stepped back and whispered to the owner, “It can’t be good, Ule. I think we should put him down. I can give him an injection right now…or you can do it the old fashioned way.”
Had my company physical yesterday. Eyes, ears, heart, lungs, blood pressure, pee, mobility…but no brain. I don’t blame them. I am not a “mind” commodity. But, there‘s no hard feelings. No animosity. I am, in essence…a jackass. And they are…a paycheck. It is truly a symbiotic relationship and, although there may be feigned references to “more,” it all comes down to the paycheck…and the jackass. (hee haw)
Now, Unions. As I’ve stated, I am a Union man and, on some levels, we “all” are. Why? Because at it’s basest level the Union is nothing more than “you” helping “me.” In other words; individuals who are weak, join together to face a strong enemy. The Thirteen Colonies were a Union. The World War II Allies were a Union. Heck, even a neighborhood watch is a Union!
So, on the local level, when the “company” seeks to maximize their profit (again, no animosity) the Union helps to blunt their plan that, left unhindered, may grind the jackasses…into jerky. I like that. I support that. I applaud that. And on some level…we all do.
The downside: Alas, collective bargaining; useful when dealing with private companies, is a farce when employed in the public sector. Why? Because the “bosses” are elected and, since Unions help get them into office; they are beholden. It is a recipe for corruption. And so, when the “National” sends out the clarion call to rally the faithful so that Public Unions are allowed to maintain their unwarranted sway; I believe they err.
As I’ve said, I support the idea of Union and, on the local level, I am on board. But, sadly, tragically, the National leadership has chosen to align themselves with those whose values chafe violently against my Christian core. Thus, when the abortionist mercilessly ends a life; the union hand helps to hold the blade. When the legislator opposes God’s position on marriage; the union man adds his “amen.”
One final thought: A few years ago I approached the then President of our local, seeking the steps necessary to keep my dues from supporting politicians and parties that espoused views that I could not own. The process seemed convoluted and I quit the effort. I assuaged my conscience by thinking, “They can use my dues to support the opposition, and I will use my voice to counter.” Having said that let me conclude with this heartfelt advice: If unions want to truly prosper; if they want to flourish and be an important part in the American life and economy then they need to, first of all, as our founders did, seek the aid of Divine Providence. And that, dear reader, includes supporting what “He” supports, and opposing…what “He” opposes.