We know when we've been bamboozled. SC

My dad was a native Ozarker. His grandad Casebeer arrived in the Ozarks in the 1880s. My great grandpa Casebeer was a circuit rider, traveling the Ozark hills and hollows on horseback and sharing the good news that God loves us while we're yet in our sin, and Jesus Christ gave His life for sinners. At age eighty, Dad could still outwork me. Dad was Ozark tough. He'd come in from the fields with a mortal injury of some kind. Mom would examine it and conclude it needed stitches. "Wrap it up!" Dad would say. "There's work to be done and I'm fixin' to make a showin'!" Ozarker's are an independent breed. They pull their own weight. They don't appreciate being told what to do or what to think. They know their rights and they don't abide having them threatened. They love God and country and, given the opportunity to bear down and examine their conscience, they even love those some consider the least among us. You know, those sinners that Jesus Christ died for. We expect to be presented with reality-based facts and then allowed to draw our own conclusion and make our own choice. Ozarker's don't abide being lied to, taken for granted, manipulated, and made to look a fool. They know when they've been bamboozled. SC