Walter PattersonI was about 14 years old when I took the Remington .22 semi-automatic rifle that my dad had purchased on its first squirrel hunt.  
I had been shooting the rifle all summer, and to be perfectly honest, I had developed into a pretty good shot.
Bottles and cans were in deep trouble.  Crows that landed in trees less than a hundred yards away died before they heard the crack of the rifle.  Snakes that made their home in the nearby ponds found life a little complicated.  Turtles didn’t find life any easier either.  
But on this cool Saturday morning in early November, I had turned my attention to squirrels.  Just after daylight, I made my way into the “Spring Hollow” woods. A live spring feeds this section of the woods, and usually, game of all descriptions make their way into this area to drink water.
Today, I planned to fill my hunting coat with at least five fat, tender squirrels. This would impress dad and make mother proud. I could already taste the fried squirrel and the biscuits and gravy mom was going to make.
The woods are never silent, especially during the early morning.  The birds are just waking up, and believe me, every one of them wants to let the other know exactly where they are perched.
But there was a different sound coming from far away, and the sound was getting closer. It was a pack of fox hounds.  As the sounds of barking drew nearer, I knew that these hounds were close on the trail of a fox, and from the sound of it, they were coming my way.
Suddenly, there he was, a large red fox.  To my surprise, he wasn’t running, but trotting through the woods. He was about 75 yards away and headed my way.  When he reached 50 yards, I cut loose. I started at his nose and finished with his tail.  The fox never knew what hit him.  Although my squirrel hunt was over, I knew that this was a trophy.  I had to show him to dad.
I made my way up to the graveled road, and to my surprise, there were several men standing around their trucks listening to the dogs run. When they saw that I was carrying a dead fox, I think I saw the color drain out of their faces.  “Son, you didn’t kill our fox, did you?”  
“No, sir,” I answered.
“Then where did you get that one?”
“I think some dogs were chasing it, and when it came by, I shot it.”
“Our dogs have been running that fox all night.  It’s been a heck of a race.  Then you shoot him. We don’t kill foxes. Son, didn’t your daddy teach you better than that?”
“No, sir.  He just taught me how to kill foxes.”
“Well, men,” he began with a disgusted look on his face.  “We might as well call the dogs and pour coffee on the fire. This hunt is over.”
Last week, the President signed into law a bill raising the debt ceiling. The U. S. is already $14.3 trillion in debt, and this bill will immediately add another $2.5 trillion.
Both Democrats and Republicans are claiming victory. They claim that the budget has been cut and that we now have our debt “headed in the right direction.”  
Well, I’m just an old country boy that has no Washington sophistication, but I believe we have been duped.  How can this bill be called a “cut” when over the next 10 years, the national debt will increase by from 7 – 10 trillion dollars?  
The politicians simply played all of us like accordions. They may have won, but the nation and the people lost.
Yes, Thad Cochran and Roger Wicker voted for this reckless spending bill.  Both of them were looking so hard for a compromise that they couldn’t wait to vote for anything John Boehner and Mitch McConnell offered. This bill passed by RINO Republicans and “progressive” Democrats may have been the tipping point.  It could possibly signal the end of one of the greatest nations that ever existed – all because of incompetent legislators.
Kill the economy, and you kill the nation.  Just as that fox hunter told me many years ago, “You can call the dogs and pour the coffee on the fire. This hunt is over.”
All we can do now is trust in Divine Providence.