Yellowstone, DeSantis, and the land

Where it begins.

Dog barking in the night. Masked intruder. Dog says, “I see you. If you come over the wall or through the gate, I’m chewing your fucking leg off.”

Pitcher on the mound. Batter’s crowding the plate. Pitcher throws 97mph fastball close to batter’s head. “That’s my territory you moved into. Step back.”

6 ft. 7 230 pounder is driving to the basket. From off to the right, a defender races into the lane. Driver says, “This is my line of attack motherfucker, not yours.” Crashes into the defender, knocks him for a loop, then slams the ball down through the hoop. Ref blows the whistle. Shot’s good, and the defender is charged with a foul.

Man wakes up in the middle of the night. Hears a noise downstairs. Takes his gun out of a drawer in the night table. Goes down to the living room. A guy is punching out the glass around the doorknob. He opens the door and rushes in. The man shoots him. Three rounds, center mass. “Sorry, pal, no dice.”

Ron DeSantis builds a shield around Florida. No federal intrusion. No masks, distancing, business closures, lockdowns, or vaccine mandates. “This is our territory. Can’t come in, assholes.” So far so good.