They say that Louis XIV had the inscription Ultima Ratio Regum cast into all the cannon of the French Army. It means “The Ultimate Argument of Kings,” and that always struck me as one of the most honest and up-front things any ruler or would-be ruler ever said. “We can dress it up prettier than this, but when it comes down to the unvarnished truth this is what it’s about: You’ll do as I say or I’ll send my goons to kill you.”
I thought about that for a long time. If there’s an ultimate argument, it seems only logical that there must be an ultimate answer. For years I thought the ultimate answer must be the bullets in my rifle, but it never seemed quite right. I’ve got bullets – he’s got frigging Cannon Balls. I mean, if there were three hundred million rifles throwing bullets at him, then maybe. But we all know that’s not going to happen. So if there’s an ultimate answer to his ultimate argument, it sure as hell ain’t bullets.
It finally came to me – and that’s when I abandoned the city and most of my stuff, and gave all that was behind me a good stiff Randian Shrug.
The ultimate answer to kings is not a bullet, but a belly laugh.
But, how does Bill M. know if I’m white or black or other and besides, I am armed and am pleased with my most recent range trip. Not that I am espousing unwarrented violence… I am so sick of the political posturing crap. A cute young female came to my door tiday to inquire if I was going to vote for O. I informed her I was an election official (true). She asked if I was going to attend tomorrow’s rally with the big O (that’s twice in 30 days that he’s screwing up traffic around here) and Bruce Springsteen- I told her hell,k no, I have a job to go to and couldn’t care less. She lost interest in our conversation… I get crankier as I age. Dammitall.