I really don’t remember a time in my childhood when I wanted to be a cowboy. Most boys my age did. Shoot-em-up. Cowboys and Indians. How politically incorrect is that? Anyway, I always liked “Zorro”. I liked that he comforted the afflicted and afflicted the comfortable. Zorro was and erstwhile journalist. And he relied on anonymity. A mask for good. I liked that a lot. Potshots taken at the ruling Mexican class from the dark of night. I guess I never really got over wanting to mimic that persona.
We all have our hobby-horses. Heaven knows I have mine. But I remember my first. Old Paint. It was a new breed when I lusted after it. It wasn’t just cheap wood attached to radiused stiles to rock on. It had bucking action. To accomplish this, the engineers of Old Paint had affixed four industrial-sized springs to Old Paint’s feet(painlessly, I hope) and then to a pipe-like frame, so when Zorro went on one of his night raids, he merely had to hop on and hold on to the two pegs which they inserted into Old Paint’s head(ouch) and start moving back and forth. The springs took up the motion and pretty soon Zoro would almost be bucked off from the insane bouncing action. I had to have him. Christmas came…and so did Old Paint. Shining and new under the tree. This new design, I found, had its drawbacks. It was all well and good if you are expecting such a rough trail on your mission to foil Sgt. Garcia once again…but there was a problem. Flailing little legs had a tendency to get pinched in Old Paint’s springs, causing some nasty blood-blisters. Ow-ies that soon ended your night raid. Engineers. Go figure. I don’t know if they ever ironed out that little flaw. But Old Paint got turned out to pasture pretty quickly after a few such injuries and I never really lusted after a hobby-horse there after. The toy kind.
I do however hop on my favorite one here on this site…often. Not often enough for some readers…too often for others. Oh well. You can’t please everyone. It’s tough enough just trying to please me. I’m high-maintenance.
My latest and greatest steed is that ‘jews cause most of the problems in our modern world’. ‘They are at the bottom of most of our species anti-human behaviour’…and ‘they have been taught this disgusting outlook on life by the cult to which they belong, and they in turn teach it to their children’ . That’s my hobby-horse now.
I ride it constantly. Most of the substance of this, I can prove…the rest is just a matter of “I wouldn’t be surprised”. I try not to be too illusive, poetic or obfuscating in my views. That wouldn’t serve. I want to reach the common man. I still take the potshots that I did while astride Old Paint. Ones that can’t be interpreted any other way than they are intended. But Zorro has his battle scars. Even from friendly fire.
But that ‘common man’ is a hard guy to reach. Hitler tried. He tried to reach the common Brit anyway. He dropped leaflets over England that explained that their REAL enemy…the one that he was really fighting… were the jewish banking houses and their communist Russian takeover that threatened all of Europe…and that their Churchill was in league with them. The British common man wasn’t having any. ‘Stiff upper’ and all that. Many here in the Snakes warned that FDR was a tool for the same bankers and that he was planning all along to get us into another war. We watched war movies.
As did those that warned then…we have proof of what we are carrying on about today. Even that doesn’t seem to matter to Mr. Common. Common now is as common always was…kinda numb. Numb and easily led. Like…well…a horse. A hobby-horse.
“Illuminati” – Ouch!~ spring pinch
“Masonic fear” – Ouch!~ threw me off
“Hitler worship” – Damn…bucked again
It’s tough keeping my new Old Paint on the trail…and tougher yet to keep this gaggle of hobby-horses behind me in check. They tend to wander off toward anything shiny. Even when we hold ‘truth’ out like a carrot.