The Journal of Zebediah Byler, American Patriot.
This here be my words:
Day 1: With the Lord’s help and the leadership of patriot Ammon Bundy, we have taken this here visitor’s center hostage! And the gift shop, too! The revolution has begun!
Wanda June read our manifesto to the lying New World Order media.
“1. We, The Citizens for Constitutional Freedom, are here because the Feds won’t let the Hammonds do whatever they want when they wander on to this here Wildlife Refuge.
“2. The Hammonds ain’t terrorists and they don’t deserve five years.”
And last but not least,
“3. Wearing cowboy hats ain’t no Comi-Con cosplay.”
I wanted them to add two more demands: Make Sarah Palin president and bring back “Bonanza.” Ammon said, “In time.”
Until the Feds came along, we was happy overgrazing the West, mining it to pieces and wiping out natural predators. And all on fat Federal subsidies. It’s part of them four great Western traditions:
1. Stand tall in your boots when you take government subsidies.
(Ammon got himself a Federal small business loan for half a million dollars a couple of years back. He told us that was just to mess with them.)
2. Always say “howdy” to strangers.
3. When your ranch goes belly up, or your hide’s chafed from saddle sores, blame the government.
4. If you can’t blame the government, blame Mexicans.
One more thing. We can see your black helly-copters coming from a 1,000 miles away under this big sky, so don’t try nothing.
Sic Semper Tyrannosaurus Rex!
Day 2: Support is pouring in from groups like “Posse Comatose,” “Brokeback Mountaineers,” “God’s Terrible Swift Sword” and “The 4-H Club of Grizzly Holler.”
Otis says they is calling us “Y’all Qaeda,” “Yee-hawd-ists” and “Vanilla ISIS” on Tweeter. Otis says they is complimenting us by giving us patriotic names and it’s time to unplug the gift shop computer because “Zionist One World Order spies is watching us through peepholes in the pixels.”
Day 3: I told Ammon people could die if things go wrong. Ammon said, “What could go wrong?”
“Well, for one thing,” I said, “Slim forgot to bring enough food to stay, like, forever.”
All we found here in the gift shop were three petrified Paydays, 12 10-pound bags of birdseed and a fruitcake.
Knock, knock. Who’s there? Hammond. Hammond who? Hammond cheese on rye. We’re hungry, and the nearest Papa John’s is 427 miles away.
Dang sheriff says he’s gonna wait us out.
Day 7: Some jerk from some suspicious sounding group called the “Harney County Chamber of Commerce” came out here. Said the townsfolk were going to lose $2 million in “birdwatching” tourist dollars thanks to us. Well, we’re real sorry about that. But this place ain’t for them people —it’s for all the people! The ones what are ranchers!
Some Native American came by to tell us he wants this land back. I said, ”From the Feds?” He said, “No. From you.” “Git,” I says.
They’re saying the Hammonds were child-abusers. Doesn’t every family use sandpaper on their kids?
I was looking at the pamphlets in here. There is all kinds of birds here. Ammon said I was a loon.
Day 24: A week has passed. I told a sandhill crane and a snow goose we ain’t threatening nobody — but we will resist if we have to. “This ain’t gonna be no Whacko, Texas, or Rudy Ridge,” I said. “ I am prepared to die for our cause!”
Later I walked down the road and yelled, “Hello? Is anybody out there?” Nothing. Not even a woody woodpecker.
When I said we was ready to die for our cause, I didn’t mean I was willing to be bored to death in the middle of nowhere.
I listened to Ammon talk about how Fox News was a left-wing propaganda mill for 18 hours straight yesterday.
Day 34: Some guy called “The Revenant” passed through here three days ago.
He looked like he’d been wrasslin’ a grizzly and lost. He swallowed the old fruitcake whole, all in one bite, and then threw up outside the visitor center, next to the Dumpster, where he slept for the next day and a half, and then moved on leaving behind a buffalo hide, some mountain lion teeth and a documentary film crew that had frozen to death. We ate the Power Bars in their pockets.
Day 134: Spring is here! Sold an annual pass to a nice Canadian tourist. I asked him if he had any jerky on him. He said, “No.” I asked him if he could give me a ride home. He said, “No.”
Dang it.
