First, you should know that my daughter-in-law, Stephanie, and I have been trash-talking each other via e-mail re: the presidential race. She’s voting for Obama. I’m voting for Palin, er, I mean, McCain. A typical exchange will go something like this. Stephanie: “McCain’s going down.” Me: “At least McCain doesn’t have a weird name.” Stephanie: “McCain’s name is OLD.” Juvenile stuff. We text it at all hours of the day. Last Saturday, I mentioned the text-message war to my brother Ray, sister Charlotte, and their mates as we walked from the car to the football stadium at Cheney to watch Montana outplay Eastern Washington. I continued that my two children were probably going to join Stephanie in voting for Obama. Slowly, sister Charlotte’s husband, Roy, raised his hand and said: “So am I.” Consider this. Roy’s a bona fide cowboy. He hails from Eastern Montana, where he was one of a batch of brothers who played on the offensive line in freezing weather for the high school football team in his small hometown. Also, he patrolled the dangerous rivers in Vietnam. He raised cattle and still trains champion Appaloosas. An outdoorsman now from Spirit Lake, you’d think he would be backing Sarahcuda and Geezer. If Obama-Biden is attracting cowboys like Uncle Roy, the GOP’d better turn out the lights. The party’s over. Blessed by Gil