Friends in Low Places…


In my quest to find a fairy-tale existence, I’ve been in search of life experiences. My search has landed me in low company. Drug addicts, prostitutes, homeless men, and recently-released ex-cons (some of whom remember me from my time as a prison guard).

I’ve become good friends with one such. He remembered how I used to show favoritism to the white inmates. Yesterday, we reached the stage in our friendship where he told me the story of his crimes and how he was apprehended (side note: *never* consent to police searches).

Among these friends in low places, I’ve found more honor and old Christian chivalry (even among the negros) than I’ve ever found among my usual upper-bourgeois peers. I’m calling it the “Cowboy Way.”

True, when one’s face is rubbed in daily contention with nature, pettiness, meanness, and cruelty rise in a man. But hard living also brings out heroism and breeds the tough stoicism of knights and cowboys.

All these Alt. Right talking-heads searching for the “Alpha” formula…it’s there for the taking, in the heroic resolve to bow knee to God and say: “It is well, with my soul.”