It has not been easy being ole Allen Thacker lately, let me tell you. In addition to being placed on house arrest, ordered to complete 100 hours of community service, and required to pay $500 in fines, my very patriotism has been dragged through the stinking mud. And that, friends, is where I draw the line. Because even though I shot down a bald eagle and gruesomely mutilated its corpse, at least I didn’t vote for Donald J. Trump for president.
You can question my morals, my dignity, or my rationale for choosing to slaughter a living, breathing symbol of our country’s monumental history. However, you best think twice before questioning my American pride because on November 8th, 2016, I entered a voting booth and checked the box next to Hillary Rodham Clinton’s name. And that, unlike blasting a federally protected bird of prey right out of the sky, I would do again in a heartbeat.
I don’t dispute the facts of what transpired that day. As I admitted to authorities, that damn bird had been killing small game and snatching up fish from my pond. I wholeheartedly believed it was my constitutional right to defend my private property against intrusion, just as I believed it was my constitutional duty to keep a dangerous, small-minded narcissist out of the Oval Office. The spirit of liberty occupied my heart as I helped edge Virginia toward blue on the electoral map, and it was that same spirit that compelled me to repeatedly drive my four-wheeler over the helpless eagle until its majestically plumed chest finally stopped rising.
Before you judge me, try walking a mile in my blood-splattered shoes. And if you voted to “make America great again,” don’t bother judging me at all.
Despite what our Fraud-in-Chief thinks, no one person or political party gets to determine what constitutes patriotism. Is burning the American flag in peaceful protest unpatriotic? Or a demonstration of, and testament to, the very freedoms that flag represents? Is aiming a Remington .22-caliber rifle at our national animal and sending it hurling to the ground with a single shot a heinous federal offense? Or an example of a man simply exercising his right to bear arms and protect what’s legally his? These are hard questions, and they certainly won’t be answered by thin-skinned megalomaniacs or federal judges with the jurisdiction to throw me in jail for a year.
Look, I’m not a bad guy. I made a regrettable mistake, sure, but all my actions were done with noble intent, whether that was imploring my friends and family to reject Trump’s brand of toxic nationalism or gunning down our republic’s wingèd emblem and crushing its skull beneath my 600-pound ATV. If you can look past all the news headlines and coagulated viscera in the tread of my tires, you will see a man with a big heart and an even bigger love for the U.S. of A. In fact, if you look close enough, you might even see yourself.
The Higgs Weldon is an online humor magazine with funny articles, cartoons, and one liners. It was founded in the Los Angeles stand-up comedy community, but takes submissions from everybody. Please read and enjoy our jokes!