Taking my boy to fish

Writes a friend:

Lew,

Today I am taking my boy, 15, out to fish in a secluded hole in one our many sun-dappled, clear and cold local rivers. He likes a good catfish dinner. He has an excellent, inexpensive, USA-made rod and reel and full tackle box. He wants to practice his fishing skills.

We hope to catch one or two catfish or brim or croppie, and filet them, and freeze them for future protein for this growing young man.

We don’t have fishing licenses.

The state government some years ago decided to limit where one could obtain a fishing license. One used to be able to pick up a license at multiple bait and tackle shops or Walmart, but the omniscient authorities changed that to allow fishing licenses only available at their county office. And, they deign to demand a US Social Security Number in order to grace one with the permission slip.

I defy any government agent who is getting “hazard pay” in addition to his/her $5K/month salary in this government-induced panic to say any challenging word to us.

We feed ourselves from God’s bounty.

The rivers belong to us!

Damn the state!

Sincerely,

A tenth-generation Southron, proud home educating mom, and proud Catholic.

The Best of Llewellyn H. Rockwell, Jr.