I have known and worked with many rough men (and some rough women, for that matter). I am always amazed at the golden thread of love for their families and friends that can frequently be seen for a brief moment, shining brightly, then being once more submerged beneath a rough exterior. Men risk life and limb daily to provide some measure of comfort and security for their loved ones. Yet, they do not talk of love or romance. They live it. They work and build for love of family. In some cases, they die for love of family.

I have come to detest the effete snobbery of those who look out at the people farming the land, working in the factories, driving the long haul trucks, defending our way of life and all the other avocations necessary to keep America moving forward, and who see only “great unwashed”, dumb brutes slavishly working for some paltry monetary reward. I do not think that the true progressive can love anything, except perhaps, themselves. I truly pity them, for which, if they knew of it, they would hate me. However, I do not wish them success in their endeavours.