I begin this prose in quite a conundrum.
Trying to find peace but havenāt yet found some.
I begin every morning alive with the news.
CNN, FOX āthey give me the blues.
Iām just the blonde, living on the prairie-
But tootāin my own horn (which is really quite scary!)
Iām a woman with hormones and I have a gun.
Bring me a militant and Iāll get āer done.
My posse is housewives ā women of strength.
Proverbs 31 proves theyād earn āGeneralā as ranks.
Each and every one of them is as patriotic as me.
So we wonder how dumb our elected can be.
An Ambassador got murdered and drug through the streets
Of a city called, āBenghaziā that harbors hateful creeps.
Not all, but many protested outside.
The people blamed a video while our leader ducked to hide.
Now Iām not a rocket scientist Iām just a girl.
But the date of the murders alone had me hurl.
September 11th was a slap in our faces.
Yet our elected went on like another day of graces.
Mothers of North Dakota and those on the farm
Donātā take lightly to murder or harm.
Itās time you let us at them to teach them some stuff.
Weāll put on our cowgirl boots and walk it out tuff.
Arm and arm weāll travel in lines.
Eating bacon and pork and roasting the rinds,
Weāll scream, āGod Bless Americaā as we tell of the news-
That Israel must survive because our God loves the Jews!
We are a people suppressed as can be.
Why do we let it happen-someone please tell me?
If I was as sneaky as our elected appear.
My own mama would whip me good on the rear. (And sheās in Heaven. It doesnāt even rhyme.)
We need to restore this America-
The one we call, āHome.ā
We need to protect everyone in her from the Atlantic
Why are our citizens put in harms way-?
When our leaders disappear and have nothing to say?
The day of death came and went for the Ambassador in Libya.
While our leader hid out leaving propaganda from the media.
Libya of all places āwhy are we there?
When the homeless in America could use the governmentās care?
And who are these people that take the risk to go?
Money is evil ā a tempter- I know.
Now Iām not going to tell you just how you should vote.
But then donāt be amazed when you see my posse riding goats.
Goats eat anything including the garbage at the dump.
They take care of the bad weeds and arenāt afraid to jump.
Cowgirls on goats with the Blonde on the Prairie
Can take any foreign policy and turn it around daringly.
All countries would fear us in our āGirls with Gunsā attire.
Our womanly hair blowing as we showed them real martyrs.
Iām not condoning violence-Iām really all talk.
That said, should a militant ever knock.
Weāll Iād shoot him with my water gun right between the eyes-
Iād straddle him with my boots on and point straight in to sky.
Iād give him the look the one that makes me look mean.
Iād shake my finger shamefully while stepping on his jeans.
Iād speak in universal language so heād surely understand.
To back off America or heāll see his last stand.
Shame on us for letting things happen.
Shame on us for election year scrappāin.
Shame on us for allowing this in.
And shame on us all for sin upon sin.
God Bless Mighty Israel and America too.
Watch over our leaders from Washington to Timbuktu.
Let religions decide to lose their cloaks of death.
And let militants not kill before taking their last breath.
My posse is meeting next Monday night.
Bring your boots, hats and hormones for a candle weāll light.
The light of a Proverbs 31 woman can never be mistaken.
Unless youāre a militant who needs a good spankā in.
Goodnight fellow Patriots both women and men.
Please get your vote in and be an American gem.
RIP Dear Ambassador killed in vain.
RIP all the others as bullets and beatings did rain.
I donāt want to rhyme anymore.
I just want to pray.
So Iām going to.
At this rate, Iām gonna need more goats.
And I definitely will need more bacon.
But most of all I need to stop watching the news.
We all need to get more involved so we donāt turn into Egypt or Libya.
We need leaders of integrity, courage who believe in the America that was founded way back when men married Proverbs 31 women.
Ingstad lives on the prairie near Valley City and writes this column for the Times-Record.