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Former cowboy, dope smoker, dope smuggler, bronc rider, convict, and general no good. Still not so good, but trying, sometimes to the point of sweating blood. I raise horses and cows, grow crops, write about things that matter to me. I try not to look at the young girl's asses as they walk by. I seldom succeed at any of this. But every once in a while...

I'm father to seven young adults and the grandfather of thirteen children.

I read accounts of the final judgment and the two bodies—sheep and goats. The sheep are the good people of this world, noble in character—the type that get up each and every day and attend to their needs almost without sin, but their sight is short, they eat grass and shit all day. They follow the herd.

In our country they go to their jobs each and every day it is required, pay their taxes; some attend church. They save money to buy an education for their children, to buy clothes they will like. They coach the little league, teach dance and music lessons. They go out to eat when they can. They watch movies and TV. They read, listen to music, and go for walks. They don’t steal, lie, or cheat. They are loyal and faithful. And they love.

Then there are goats. This also is a large body of people—perhaps the largest, but unlike the sheep, they are entirely self-serving. They are not however predisposed to mass manipulation of others—they just go through life oblivious to the needs of others in pursuit of their own gratification.

These two groups make up the vast majority of people on this planet.

I look at these two groups and decide I am neither.

There is another group. Predators. Wolves and dogs. Born with greater intelligence, we herd the sheep and the goats and feast on them. Some of us wear suits and lay traps for our prey: bankers, lawyers, preachers, politicians and the like. Others don the uniform of outlaws and take what we want by force and or manipulation like the pimp and the biker. A lot of us are white and decedents of ruthless war-like tribes of barbaric heathens who did not toil the soil but rather killed and stole for a living. But there are predators from other races as well.

I became aware this morning while looking at Bear-paw, a Great Pyrenees dog I have, that from among the predators of this world a few are called to protect the flock. They are armed with the same lethal weapons and skills as the wolf and the coyote, but can be trained to guard the herds.

They desire to be good like the sheep, but they never will be. Not entirely. Their nature won’t allow it. They eat meat. Grass tastes like shit to them; their teeth are not designed to eat it. They desire females of their kind; they sense their heat, know their want, and woe to the motherfucker that picks a fight with one of these.

They do not follow the flocks; flocks huddle around them instead. I aspire to be one of these protectors of the herd, for I cannot be a sheep. I am what I am by nature. I was born into this dilemma. Most predators run in packs like ravenous wolves, coyotes, hyennas and predatory cats. I operate alone. In packs, my enemies are stronger than I. But I can't stand with my head down eating grass and shitting, waiting for wolves to devour those in my charge. My only hope for salvation is to stand my ground and fight.

After all, how is a goddamned sheep supposed to protect itself from a pack of ravenous wolves?

Update: Well, I lied. Bearpaw doesn't always work alone and neither do I. While disinclined to refer to my wife in such terms, the words of the bumper sticker on her car speak for themselves: You say I'm a bitch like that's a bad thing.