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When Phil Robertson prayed for God, guns and ammo before the Duck Commander 500, I didn't much care for it.

Fans of God, guns and ammo loved it.

It's the price one pays for living in a free society. One man's freedom of speech is another's dose of castor oil.

Remember castor oil? I never had to take a dose, but it was popular in my youth, when dinosaurs walked the earth, to be threatened with one. Castor oil's medicinal qualities were oft suppressed in the interest of punishment.

I do not question the right of Texas Motor Speedway, Eddie Gossage, NASCAR, Brian France and Bruton Smith to espouse anything they want shy of yelling "fire!" in a crowded theater. Freedom has its limits, but mine are wide. I like freedom when it rings.

What I do question is the wisdom. Phil Robertson cozies up with a multitude of fans. Not all, though. I know fans who voted for McGovern. I know fans who are Jewish, and Muslim, and Mormon, and ... a few don't even hunt.

Some NASCAR fans are already irked by foreign manufacturers, Michael Waltrip’s spontaneous hijinks on pit road, wave-arounds and lucky dogs, debris cautions, drivers who dominate and others who don’t, and, as many are fond of acknowledging, haters who hate.

One driver’s telling it like it is. Another is just a whiner. The two say equivalently the same things. It’s impossible not to tick them off.

Why do it on purpose? Why not stick to the racing?

Deep in the heart of Texas, and in the midst of the massive grandstands between Fort Worth and Denton, a man who praises guns, God, and country spelled Murica, it's hard to go wrong with a caller of ducks who's bad to pray on the side.

Couldn't he have just called some ducks? Dale Earnhardt Jr.'s car was on pit road. They would have come.