Yeah, I know.
It is not a word.
Consider that we live in a time when words no longer have any real meaning anyway.
Does this impart meaning (mis-matched meaning)?
We have Mothers who will advocate killing their offspring (so much for loving arms).
Fathers who will pay for football, even when it advocates the over-throw of their Nation.
A political party that would un-do what 253 years of America has done – with pen strokes that legislative body will never read.
There is a re-telling of history that takes place – every day, and a dilution of our very souls.
Words such as gender, patriotism, or murder are being re-defined.
And by whom?
So, is it really all about what truly imparts meaning anyway ? Or is it about advancing an agenda and holding on to a perceived power base.
And who is this base? Illegal immigrants? Vegans? Feminists?
Who are the gullible, and the lazy ? Those who will believe all that is written? All that is on the net?
The government will take care of your every need. To each in accord with neediness; from each in accord with their lack of ability.
All the P.U. that is fit to broadcast in this net of deceit.
All the stench, fit to print.
And so borrowing from my friends in journalism, I will now write a couple of “composites” of just who I think is the average constituent who would vote for this alarming nonsense that emanates from a single side of the aisle – who they really are.
He-she’s name is derived from the Sagitarrian. The half-ling who is both man and beast. In Archyr’s case, both man and female beast. Well, in his mind’s eye any way.
Archyr wears a man-bun. Not on his ass either. He is “in touch” with his feminine side. He oozes casual ambiguity.
He is a member of the Movember movement, a November “creation” that celebrates all things man-“ly”, especially facial hair. He keeps a nicely quaffed beard. It looks like a Georgia O’Keeffe painting. On Sundays, he forgoes church for a nice game of Othello down at the city park.
He and his “mates” (also gender-nonspecific) have a central tendency to discuss the finishing flavors that pass for “beeyah”. They indulge in large part on the “floral” flavorings.
His dad was a steel worker. An out-of-work steel worker, from … Ohio.
He was raised in a one-parent home. His Mother, a drunk. A wino, to be specific. She worked as a teller at the local bank.
He was told from the time he was two that he could be “anything he wanted to be”.
Trouble is, he still has not figured out what that is.
He lives in a hostel. One of his “mates” (we think a girl) has a decent job, and the two combine their incomes to maintain and run the “hostel”. People come and go constantly and give what they are able for their living quarters.
Somehow they “eek” an existence.
She-he is a girl. Very shapely, and quite beautiful (even when “masked” in grunge).
Her eyes are striking, her feminine figure cannot be contained even when covered by a rain barrel.
The girls and boys both are enamored by her striking beauty. No one really knows her sexuality, if she has any at all. She got her heart broken at twelve when she found out George Michael would not be interested in her.
She dresses in flannel.
Jeans, and flannel.
She runs a bakery that specializes in homo-erotic “pies”. They have unusual flavorings, like a beer named after Georgia O’Keeffe. Only, in a “pie”.
Her favorite odor is “pumkin”.
Her “artistry” is gender-nonspecific, so the “pies” take on the shape of the reproductive apparatii of a specific variety of palm tree that grows in the Galapagos.
She does not like to “offend”. She is “trendy”.
She listens to country music. Grunge country. It is a “niche”.
The songs she relates to as they talk of beer, and angst. The kind brought on by too much beer.
And too little “angst” (well, a contrived angst, perhaps).
She has posters of Simone de Beauvoir and Ziggy Stardust hanging in her shoppe.
She is both mis-fit and malapropism. Yet somehow, she perseveres.
So, these caricatures, they represent total fiction.
No one could possibly be this thin.
Or could they?
As thin as over-diluted white wash.
As transparent as Obama promised to be. Transparent, but in an opaque sort of way.
And yet, someone out there votes for AOH.
Someone out there actually believes the bee hive somehow will result in utopia, and not the Manson-family farm.
But who are they really ?
They have to come from money.
Money makes the world go ’round.
But who funds them?
Same people as the hippies. A rich mommy and daddy who will not give up on their precious children?
Well, we know for certain it would likely be the people who hang around Hillary Clinton campaigns. Or Nancy Pelosi.
Say, speaking of composites, did you catch what N.P.’s daughter said ? Who raises this mentality?
Maybe. Just maybe.
Maybe we should focus less on the average constituent who votes for nonsense, and more – more! Let us focus on what it is, precisely, that creates such mentality.
The real problems in this nation are not the ideas that are floated, but rather, the lack of intellect that is passed on to a future generation in the promulgation of these “ideas”.
One day, there will be a terrible price to pay.
An ideological price.
Of course, this would make his death a sort of suicide-by-cop.
I will be excoriated for this one, but I see a parallel in the attempts to minimize the death of Christ (it “had” to happen, and Brutus/Judas was a “necessary” pawn to complete a master plan).
If you (and I implore you to do so) dig in and search for all the myriad articles on J.C. (Caesar, although there are myriad on Christ as well, which I implore you also to do) – you will find a number of conspiracy theories.
But the one tie that will bind all the search results is – what happens AFTER J.C. was killed (chaos – Christ and Caesar).
At least Caesar was simply stabbed (his was over quick, compared to the suffering of Jesus).
And today, Jesus still suffers.
Why? His children have learned nothing.
Consider for a moment (yet again) Pilate (one of Julius’ “progeny”).
“What is this thing called the Truth?”.
Well, it is where journalists get it all wrong, don’t you think?
They don’t comprehend the truth. Part of it is, they follow the wrong Master.
But, that is a story for another day.
We are talking Caesar here (and DemonRatz – or did not get that?).
There is a danger in the aftermath of assassination, and Assassination is a dirty, dirty game.
Lot’s of “innocent” people get hurt.
But it is the nature of politics.
Searing hot, fingers get burned.
Especially when they travel down the path of impugning the reputation of another.
Glass houses, anyone?
I honestly think this whole, new phenomenon witnessed in the demise of the DNC is part and parcel of rampant drug use.
Their brains are fried.
Like breakfast bologna.
Well, so…where is the hope? The change?
I think I sense a rising ground swell in the Libertarian Party.
The guys just need to come up with a good logo or mascot. Get the guys who designed Pink Floyd’s pyramid-rainbow, for example.
They need a great band to represent them too. Why not Floyd?
Let’s think about one thing here though.
Unlike Caesar, DemonRatz are not really dead.
They just smell that way.
While on the ropes (thank you Obama), they have not been delivered the death blow (nor will they).
They would serve as a plausible counter-weight to the Leviathon that is the GOP (IF Congress gets its act together – those eleven retard repubs need to go – stinking up the place worse than the DemonRatz).
So, in closing. Do your homework. Killing Caesar was a bad, bad thing.
Trying to assassinate a President’s character…also – bad, bad, bad (tsk, tsk).
Falling on one’s own sword is a good thing (especially when, like Judas Iscariot or Marcus Brutus (yes, he committed suicide as well), you got it coming).
However, in politics, there really are no death blows.
Only a staggering death of thousand wounds (and the unfortunate part is – not the players who bleed, but rather, the Nation).
Let’s hope that some leaders rise from this blood letting.
My money is on Trump. He seems to be sealing leaks, and bandaging a lot of old wounds.
Soon we will be pert as a rutting buck.
“Night is here again, baby,
Stretched out on my bed
Seeing all kinds of crazy notions
Running around through my head
One hand is on my pillow,
One hand on my head,
I see a million nightmares
Tearing around in my head;
I need a progressive woman;
I need an awfully liberal woman.
I need a social conscious woman
To ease my revolutionary mind.”
-Woody Guthrie, “My Revolutionary Mind”
Of late I have had the occasion to become exposed in ancillary fashion to the dispossessed.
I’ve taken note of the things they talk about. “Crazy notions”.
They amble and ramble about the bible, their own conviction, the condemnation of all those who do not share in their fallen state.
Some may be delirium from alcohol, others suffering from the madness that is drug abuse.
From my perspective, this is just a trickling that is headed down the same murky stream as the imaginations gone wild of the average street person.
Crazy from the heat.
But there is an extrapolation to this as well.
Liberals actually believe this fallen state is somehow divine.
Of course there are those who wish to escape this madness, this hell.
But a state that pushes them there, keeps them there, and convinces them they want to stay there only compounds their misery.
Living on the commune of the looney.
California is a prime example of this.
They mis-manage their water by forgoing the building of a dam, thinking that later they will simply petition the Federal Government to help them with something they screwed up.
Why should everyone have to pay for those who mis-manage?
Well the obvious answer is that we can not turn our backs on it any more than we can turn our backs on the street people. There, but for the grace of God, right?
But those who perpetually get themselves in trouble are then written off to skid row.
It has always been this way, probably always will be.
But now we have STATES on skid row.
California. Jersey. Kentucky, D.C. and Maryland. New York and New Mexico (Mercatus Center, George Mason University, 2017).
In Armour Square and Austin on the West Side of Chicago do you see the raging effects of skid row diplomacy on a grand scale.
And all-the-while the Democrats point fingers and blame capitalism and the Republican party.
It is a mentality they have created, and one of “this is caused by someone else, and somebody HAS to help me”.
Well, yes. But only up to a point.
I’ve talked to people on skid row who say don’t help this one, or that one as they are perpetually in this system with no intentions of getting out.
And this sub-culture of a sub-culture is right.
The tiny minority who will escape this will do so by “seeing the light”.
By realizing their “victimization” is being driven by a political culture that needs them there.
Without the dis-possesed, the liberal can not live.
The are like the blood-sucking vampire who feeds only in the shadows, the crevices where the successful fear to tread.
So it is a cult that is driven by a reliance on escapism.
A euphemism for a nation-at-large that thrives on the such.
From Hollywood to HBO, video games to sexting and vexting on hand-held devices, it is a Nation of dependency.
Yet these pockets of those dropping off the grid is growing.
People are returning to old ways. They are dropping the internet and turning back to their churches for hope.
And who can blame them?
Where is the hope on skid row? You damn sure will not find it in the policy of the liberal.
Since FDR they have promised an end to poverty, and yet they have made nary a dent.
They are hollow men, with hollow words, and they have no real intention of helping the situation.
Like the junkie on the street needs his drug, the liberal politician needs the junkie for his policies of government reliance.
They mandate such idiocy as solar panels on every house and factory in California, yet they scream to the rest of the nation to bail them out when their policies fail.
The junkie on the street steals to support his habit; the liberal steals from everyone else through a constant requirement for bail out.
The parallels are stark, but very real.
So what is the answer?
There is no easy one for the poverty, but my home state of Tennessee ranks among the nation’s top financial performers.
We are extremely conservative.
Our poor and down trodden, we go to the streets for.
We minister to them through our churches.
We feed them.
Clothe them. Even house them.
The homeless actually travel from other states to come here to our system.
It is not a system based on a state that forces compliance, but rather, a state that encourages us all to look at the problem as though it is one that affects us all.
We all live in this, and we all deal with this.
Those who relegate themselves to the pyres of destitution will find an almost insurmountable set of obstacles that might lead to their escape.
But through the kindness of a prosperous state, they stand a chance. And there are those willing to help them escape that bleak strata that is the dirt of the street.
And some will escape.
Some will climb out.
Horatio Alger is alive and well.
Hope is eternal and charity – real charity – is a possibility; but not a likelihood in a state that perpetually feeds this dragon of dependency and doom.
It is time to get tough. Feed them, but make damned certain they understand that we will not tolerate their cycle of dependency – be it for the junkie on the street, or the Nation-State like California constantly getting itself in trouble and then seeking a handout from the rest of us.
Time to pony up, liberal.
Time to face the harsh reality of responsibility.
‘Ems fightin words, beeyotch!
Yo momma wears army boots.
Republicans, they all NAZIs.
You know the routine.
And each and every lousy, no-count, scum-sucking liberal demonRAT, is, well, evil.
It is the politics of destruction. The destruction of self. The destruction of dignity. The destruction of character.
But then, in American politics, when did any exist anyway?
Should this not really all be about what we are doing to improve our lot in our corner of the Universe?
Some say life is a struggle.
I say “it can be”.
It can be a dream too.
You know, a guy living in the streets can well consider the entire city to be his palace.
Bright lights, fresh water. Scraps of food, here and there. I suppose the occasional pigeon, if one were feeling “fancy”.
Even when you are from the highest echelons of society.
How so, Precipii?
Nothing, and I do mean NOTHING can compare to the mansion Jesus Christ prepares for us in his Father’s house.
Think about this.
He says “I go there to prepare one for you”.
Now, get this.
What if every single breath changes that preparation.
What if the play that is our lives, the acts we perform and those performed for and against us; the violent storms of nature, and the effect they have on our existence, both from the standpoint of survival, and a modified survival based on damage done; or the simple course of events, say, striking it rich in a gold mine, or losing it all on “one toss of the die” – what if every single, solitary moment in this compendium of moments shaped that mansion in the sky?
Well, I propose it does.
But this is not ying and yang.
There is no…tally sheet. No point bead on a scoring string in life’s game of snooker.
No balance sheet, no “bottom line”.
The debt is paid, the game is won, and all one has to do…ALL ONE has to do, is simply believe.
But what does that mean, believe?
I can believe I am the Easter Bunny. It doesn’t make it so.
What does make it so?
What consecrates this life?
Well, I would argue it is the principles we actually stand for (and not those we simply say we stand for).
What if that mansion got bigger, and bigger, and bigger – each time, with each breath, each time you get something “right”.
Well, what is right and wrong?
Is it right to say that you are a champion of the children, yet all-the-while, the man behind the curtain is committing infanticide?
Is that “right”?
It is not even righteous. Not even when balanced against what happens to the damned Mother (who I personally am absolutely sick of hearing about. Time to kick Mothers (at this least this type) right in the wazoo).
Who cares what happens to the damned Mother. I don’t give a cow pie what right she says she has with her own body. It is the body of the child in question here, stupid.
OKAY. Enough about abortion.
What about death panels, Dr. Phibes (if you really are a doctor. Probably a Canadian doctor, or one of them Englishter Doctors).
When a socialist system is more about the people playing golf, than those who would most likely rather be playing golf…there is a serious problem.
This “fight” the DemonRats have drummed up…this boxing match, this battle-to-the-death-royale — what it is really all about…REALLY all about…is their own sense that sanity, power, intellectual advantage, prestige, political clout – everything that once made them the second-most powerful party in the Nation has now escaped their grasp.
Now they look like dunder-heads (and the more they squirm and struggle, the tighter the grip becomes).
They’ve come to believe their own personae, a personae created by the P.R. dudes.
They’ve basically out-run their own legend (one they created for themselves).
They have over-run their position, and now they have no body politic to back them up.
Deep in enemy territory, with the supply line cut.
And so how do they respond?
When I was a kid, whatever grade I was in, the teacher liked to take us on “field trips”. Maryville College was a favorite.
I remember touring the lab. Seeing the brain in the bell jar. The dissected cats, veins and arteries flayed and dyed either red or blue (signifying existence or depletion of oxygen).
But in the context of this article, the incident with the snake and the little, white mice comes to mind.
This demented student (and, seriously; he was – he “got off” on showing little kids what happens when you drop little white mice into the snake cage) – well, he showed us what does happen when you drop a bunch of pink-eyed, little, white mice into the snake’s cage.
The snake devours the first three or four, tuit suite.
But that fifth.
Man, I don’t know if it was because the snake’s belly was full on the first four and he was getting a bit lethargic, or if it was the Herculean effort of that last mouse as JUMPED, STRAIGHT up from a standing position, three or four times, and finally in acrobatic fashion flips at the last second and grabs onto the window screen that served as a lid to the cage.
But here he is, holding on for dear life, and I’m praying “please God, give this one a break. He doesn’t deserve the fate of his compatriots”.
But, alas, gravity took over, and, curses, he too was dinner.
Of course Professor Beavis there at Maryville College was really getting off on this one.
Along with a bunch of the nerds in class who thought it was cool, seeing Wild Kingdom in the flesh.
But, it is there fate. Right?
It is what happens in nature.
For a while, you live high on the hog being fed mouse food every day, and then…BAM, you are some snake’s dinner.
Well, I look at the DemonRats today, and this what I see.
Those pink-eyed little mice.
Only, I had compassion for the mice.
I have little of anything for these over-grown rats.
Well, I do envision an anaconda turned loose on them.
How’s it feel now, Big Daddy Rat?
So, here we are with these pink-eyed rats, putting up their dukes to us.
We’ve already one, again and again, and yet here they come with their protests, and their howls, and their angst, and their weapons drawn.
You ever seen a Rooster strut? You get the feeling they’d even strut when they get the living poop beat out of them.
Well, in this political polemic, that is exactly what happened.
They strut in the streets.
Strut on T.V.
They even strut when they paint up our streets with their vile graffiti.
But you know what?
Really and truly?
Well, I will tell ya.
t’s a by-god implosion.
They are imploding.
Right before our very eyes.
EVERYTHING they once held dear; EVERYTHING they once stood for; EVERYTHING they built, everything they designed, everything they envisioned, everything they hoped — DASHED against the rocky crags of over-inflated egoistic ignorance of what is really, really, real.
The American people have spoken, poop-birds.
THEY want what is best for it.
No longer do your models fit that bill.
Get over your damned bad selves.
The libertarians have much to gain, and would be well-advised to begin scheduling debates with Republican candidates (and to my fellow Republicans – I hope you are listening – you should not only entertain that idea – you should encourage it by taking the initiative and scheduling the debates with them).
Beats the hell out of arguing with dogs, frothing at the mouth.
The liberals use this term a LOT.
Think about it.
Is compassion all about feeling sorry? Of course you can empathize, but does empathy really help the one for whom you feel pain, or pity?
When an ixquick.com search is performed of the words: compassion, empathy, altruism, and relief (when paired with psychology) – almost invariably the key sentence in the synopsis provided on the search page leads one to believe that the act is more about the actor, rather than those who are in need of the action.
Empathy itself, of course, does not lead to action.
I can cry because someone is in pain. That does not mean I will necessarily “help” them (which leads to a whole another paradigm we will get to in short course).
Alternately, just because I “help”, doesn’t mean I feel a damn thing (for I am the Master and Commander of my feelings).
But the articles themselves seem to always focus on what acts of altruism (compassion) do for the individual.
Those of you who have read my column for a while now know that as a young man, I suffered from depression (don’t ask me how I “beat” it – I just kinda got over it. My physician at the time (and still) told my Mother I’d “grow out of it” (and I did). Great man, that physician (it’s a part of why I have stuck with him – but primarily just because I think he is a swell guy).
But, to the point, I was told (either by friends, professionals, or things I read on the subject) that one should find “something to take care of” to get past the depression (I chose Bonsai and a shark tank). By the way, I got this from some journal, or news article (not my physician – he’d tell me just to gut it out, and frankly, that method would likely have worked just as well).
So, for the individual to be “healthy”, he or she must, must, must do something for others?
I’m not certain of that.
I think one could be totally self-centered and completely content. In fact, think about most of the self-centered narcissists you know and you’ll see that, yeah, they are happy. Lonely, but happy.
When that changes it is likely because the individual’s happiness is challenged by another (say, they have a parcel of land they wish they had, or a wife or an ass they covet). That’s when it gets a little “dicey”.
So really, what I read from the psychologists is that these acts of “compassion” are really to a great extent, self-centered. In fact, con artists will often “do” “something” for you with not intent what-so-ever of helping you, but rather, helping themselves.
Do I take a dim view of the world ? Well, take the Dim-‘O-Rats (pleeease!).
“What a great guy that Greg is,” or “Gee, ain’t Jimmy just swell”. Public adulation may also be a motivator.
But any way you cut it, compassion is not always driven by pure motives.
Do those in need of it care? Probably not. Especially when they are so deep in misery that misery is all they can see.
It is what leads to the degradation of a society. People at one strata so very deep in pain, and at another so high on self-adulation that ‘never the twain shall meet’.
The fact is, feeling sorry, and doing good are really two very separate things.
To share the pain of another is human; to do something to try and ease that pain – divine.
So really, it is about motivation.
But when you add the spiritual component (I do this for God, and not for man), there are many other complexities in involved (“I am more Saintly than Thee” sort of mentality).
But think a move or two down the chess board.
Let’s say your personal act of self-sacrifice for others leads to a positive result, but the individual you helped feels no sense of gratitude, or perhaps there is no recovery from their state of degradation.
What then is the response?
Well, I would proffer that when self-motivated (this act of compassion), the response would likely be selfishness.
Well, well, well.
What did you expect, when it was “all about you” anyhow?
So, let’s take a different slant. What if it is not about how it makes you look in the eyes of your fellow man, or about how your efforts are “advancing the state of mankind”, or even “gee, it just has to be done” ?
What if it is about something much bigger, and much more noble.
Who cares about your fellow man. As Mother Teresa so aptly put it “we will always have the poor among us”.
And it is true.
But Christ teaches us that we are to have pity on the poor.
It is not an act of feeling; for any one of us could suffer a separation from God (most likely at our own choice).
It is not some sacrifice at the altar of the universe either.
God’s realm and our own are two different things. That includes the universe (it too is His “footstool”).
There is no “magic” in this (hate to burst your bubble).
No “ying” and “yang” to balance an equation, no payback, or sacrifice for that matter at any altar.
The sacrifice has been completed. There is no “owing” or “beholding”; no balancing an equation of right and wrong, and no “coexisting” with every damn philosophy on the planet.
What it is, is – simple.
God commands, we perform. God requires, we deliver (sometimes).
I’m not going to pretend to understand, and I am not going to pretend to try.
Somethings are simply not worth it.
So the easy path is simple; just do it ’cause God says to do it.
How can you go wrong with that one !
Then, you see, it is neither about the poor dejected one, or about how it makes your soul “feel”. Then it can be pure, this simple act.
But overall, when the objective is totally centered on God, one can be assured in the confidence that it truly was done for the greater good (and not the P.R. cash it earns you in your goody-two-shoes balance sheet).
So eat that, you silicon valley tech moguls, and you Hollyweird morality experts. Tired of your preaching in your matinee temple-theaters of doom. Your morality ain’t my morality. Your ways, not God’s. Your thoughts ? From what I am seeing of ya, I did not realize you had any.
He’s gonna cut you down when you make it more about you, than about Him. Cut you down.
[TURN DOWN VOLUME IF AN ISSUE !!}
Well, simply put, because we are applying pressure where it belongs.
They are attacking us through violence because they are coming to realize they can no longer attack us through debate on substantive issues.
In short, their lies are catching up with them.
Chickens, coming home…
Okay! I’ve been chastised for writing in cliche and metaphor, so let’s just attack this gnat from a different angle, shall we ?
They dreamt of the grand scheme, of plans best laid, and of privilege extended only to the wisest of the wise; but in their slumber they ignored that through a fostered ignorance among their base, they too suffered from a brain-deadening, dim glow made more dim by the scheme and its lack of challenge for a humanity seeking ever-increasing enlightenment.
Dim wits, you say! I must agree.
The Dim-O-Cratic Party is suffering from a deadening of the wit. Perhaps it is drugs, perhaps it is through apathy; but there can be no doubt that the only argument they make now is an un-doing of their core beliefs (i.e., “peaceful protest”). There is no such thing in their “rank” rank anymore.
Only the fits of rage.
Rage against the man, rage against the machine, rage against the very cities in which they dwell (the “occupiers”).
Why the radicalism?
It is simple, really.
A bunch of tired, warn out, long-in-the-tooth hippies trying their dead-level damndest to relive their glory days vicariously through a new generation (the millenials). And they do not care who gets hurt, as long as they continue to get fat.
Will they be a flash in the pan.
The newer generation coming up recognizes the error in the philosophy these thugs follow. There can be no prosperity in stealing; it will ultimately degrade us all.
The new kids do not wish to live in that hell that is eternal lockup in their mommy’s and daddy’s basements, and the rage against “establishment” that logically ensues.
They have a means of escape. That means? The strength in their own backs. The guts they were born with. THEY will make our new capital just — “swell and peachy!”.
In short, they will build the brave, new world, and it will be one in which every man can be free.
And why the hell not?
Work hard, and that is entirely achievable.
You also will not require a Big Brother smack-down to make this happen.
You see, the new gen is much like my gen.
I came out of the 60’s, seeing what distress the hippies drove.
I witnessed the 70’s, when people were trying to figure out what the 60’s were really all about (and the 70’s were essentially a further slide into self-degeneration, or sort of “slinking” to the bottom, so you could find the bottom, and then begin climbing out).
In the uplifting 80’s it came to be “all about me” (and we see remnants of that in all the selfies today – who cares what you are up to? Seriously; take a pill).
And now here we are in the 90’s and the new millennia and looking back and thinking “what the hell just happened”. What sort of a mad blip is this in the grand history of America (and of spaceship earth)? Why can people be so heartless and cruel, and how did they become so numb and insensitive to the suffering of others?
What I don’t get, (and forgive me for continuing to hack on the intellect of the left) – what I don’t get is why in the hell are you covering ground already traveled?
It is ridiculous, pointless and quite frankly — painful.
Painful to witness, painful to consider, and most of all, most-painful to live through.
Have you no love in left in your souls?
Why on earth would we go down a road that leads to nowhere?
For YEARS, the liberal has been so very full of promises.
With JFK, it was “do for others” (HOO-rah for the “ask not” gen).
With LBJ, a war on poverty.
Which, of course, started all the rest of the wars to end all wars (drugs, homelessness, teenage pregnancy, gangs, obesity, free thought, free speech – you name it, there’s a war for it).
And no end in sight.
Honestly, I believe these cats create situations that require wars.
I don’t mean to be a doom-sayer, but come on people now, stop your smiling on one another and think about what’s really going on here.
Poverty is as bad as it ever was.
MS-13 is making strides in this country (and likely due to an open border).
Drugs. Hell-fire Gurdy. You want drugs, they are virtually everywhere (just look for a gang, or some a-hole wearing Google_Goggles and micro-dosing LSD – seriously, it is a “thing” out there in Californication).
So, back to the original thesis — “why”.
Because they have proven to be rank failures, maybe? Because they are having Charlie Manson flashbacks? Who knows with these cats.
What once was the Midas touch has now devolved to the kiss of death.
They wave a magic wand, but instead of rainbows flying out their elbows, there is only pestilence and dank, black clouds spewing from their self-perceived magic wands.
It is as if the light has been removed from their souls; as if they have become living wraiths, railing against a wide and varied universe that offers goodness and prosperity to those who will seek them through the correct paths of personal enlightenment.
I can tell you those paths do not include drugs or anarchy.
They will also not be found when hanging with smart-assed Congressmen who demonstrate the asinine even when one of their own has just fallen (the NERVE).
Soon, and I promise you this one, the violence will turn in on itself.
Very soon, intelligent men and women will take a hard, cold look at themselves and exclaim “My God ! What have I become?”.
It will happen.
There is still light among the dark cloud.
God still reigns supreme, not only in this country, but around the world as well.
Even in Vladimir Putin’s recent interviews with Ollie Stone is it evident.
President Putin remarks that “as long as man has a way to go before the grave, there is always hope”. (This paraphrase is based on Stone’s sobering question to Putin “do you believe there is hope”).
I personally believe this is the will of God speaking through Mr. Putin (you will of course remember that his Mother was a Christian, God rest her soul).
Putin is right.
Violence has never solved anything, nor will it ever.
Violence only begets more violence.
But until the left comes out of their uninspired, anti-intellectual “funk”, we will continue to downward spiral.
Auguring like a craft spinning from orbit, out of control.
But there is, as Putin so aptly put it, hope.
It springs eternal !
I believe that there are great strides to be made in the very near future, and that those strides will not be made by clenched fist, or rifle blast, but rather, by intellects coming together to discuss cool, rational approaches to the world’s difficulties.
Right now, all you have are barbarians clinging to silly models that never worked well, and are utter, and complete failures today.
Why are there problems?
Because irrational behavior has set the conditions for the devil and his utter chaos to be the rule of the day.
Very soon this King will be dead. Long live the new King, and with him, freedom (of thought and deed) both of, and for all men, the world over!
The age of the Barbarian and his excesses is finally coming to a close. For that, I am thankful for a new breed of radicalism born in the age of Donald Trump.
In this contentious political era, I sense there has been a victory, of sorts.
Perhaps, just perhaps, this is an opportunity for even more. Not the crest of the wave, but its rising.
It is an opportunity to end this cycle of political shenanigans, skull-skulduggery and “platform ping-pong”.
By that, I mean there is an opportunity here for “someone” to take the high road.
That someone NEEDS to be conservative.
Picking up the mantle of what it means to be “above board”.
We have that in our grasp right now.
The Democrats are at the lowest point of their entire history.
Literally, we could right now step on their larynx and “finish the job”.
Never have I seen anyone stoop to such depths.
It is deplorable, and quite frankly gives America and worse, Americans – a very bad name.
From Britannia, I would expect such.
Americans are supposed to be much more rugged than this.
Why…it looks like school girls scratching at one another’s eyes, eyes closed, and “scratching” only at the four winds.
They want to fight, they just don’t want to hurt one another.
It is undignified!
What a bunch of maroons.
So, someone can step up the plate.
Someone can demonstrate what true leadership looks like.
Think about the pantheon of conservatives.
And he who brought us “God and Man at Yale”, that paragon of modern conservative thought, Sir William F. Buckley.
So, how does one “rise again”.
Well, how has the South?
So, what’s the point in all this, Precipii?
Well, I’ll just tell ya.
Conservatives just have a better way.
If we lose, we take it on the chin (for we know we will survive).
If we meet we are met with challenge, we meet that challenge. We greet it with a nice, friendly punch in the shoulder.
If you bring your tatoo-sleeve wearing, man-bun yuppie-ass, gnarly hippie shroom-breath up in our face, why we are going to give you a hearty “HELLO”.
Because, you see, our heritage is John Wayne.
That’s the Duke to you, boy.
Ours is the hero of the “man’s man”.
The man men like to “hang” with.
Not brush up against. Not swap sweat with.
No, that is for some gay bar.
These are men for whom lead is the only thing “swapped”. Lead, and pocket knives.
We cut our palms and make blood oaths.
We settle disputes, not by killing one another, but rather – by negotiation (like Trump, for example).
Real men can look one another in the eye.
Eyeball to eyeball.
This is what conservatives do.
We do not go around stabbing one another in the back.
We are here to help one another, not drag each other down.
Take the hippie downers for example.
Just look at them with their toe tags and their DOA from micro-dosing shrooms, no less.
Who wants to be that smelly, filthy varmint?
Not I, sayest “I” .
So, to recap.
Now is our finest hour.
If not, we deserve a fate worse than that the DNC faces in the wake of a disaster that was the Clinton-0bama years.
LESS than zero!
The seven deadly sins, also known as the capital vices or cardinal sins, is a grouping and classification of vices of Christian origin. Behaviours or habits are classified under this category if they directly give birth to other immoralities. According to the standard list, they are pride, greed, lust, envy, gluttony, wrath, and sloth, which are also contrary to the seven virtues. These sins are often thought to be abuses or excessive versions of one’s natural faculties or passions (for example, gluttony abuses one’s desire to eat).
“Smilin’ faces, smilin’ faces, they lie,\
They don’t tell the truth.
Smilin’ faces, smilin’ faces…
Oooooo, the back-stabbers.
6 Train up a child in the way he should go,
And when he is old he will not depart from it.
Both have undeniable egos.
Both attended college.
Trump, on the other hand, did not put near as much stock in his education at Wharton as he did in his perseverance in the market place. He was driven.
Obama, alternatively, seems to rail against the system and the injustice he perceives in it.
The one, born of a silver spoon, puts less stock in government-funded education, and more in the work ethic that leads to success.
The other, born of relative obscurity and much lower economic conditions seeks success by tearing down the institution that produce a man like Donald Trump.
Obama has a deluded concept of success. For him, it is something that is conferred, rather than earned; indoctrinated, rather than conceived; a hand-out entitlement, rather than a hard-earned success.
One need look no further than his accomplishments as the editor of the Harvard Law Review to see a record that supports a sort of lackadaisical method to his path for success.
Other than one letter, there simply are no records of his publishing anything.
As chief editor, this is most peculiar.
Trump, while also not prolific in his writings, did demonstrate effective paths to success from the time he was young. He started his first business at age 12.
So while sketchy in their respective college careers, one can look at the genesis they both went through to see the contrasts.
Obama became a community organizer in the mold of Saul Alinsky and Frank Marshall Davis – both of whom advocated tearing down the system.
From Saul Alinsky:
Life is a corrupting process from the time a child learns to play his mother off against his father in the politics of when to go to bed; he who fears corruption fears life.
All change means disorganization of the old and organization of the new.
The job of the organizer is to maneuver and bait the establishment so that it will publicly attack him as a ‘dangerous enemy.’
And from Frank Marshall Davis:
And from the foreign press: The Telegraph: Davis an influence on Obama
Alternately, Donald Trump has done nothing but contribute to our system.
He has helped build this nation, rather than tear it down.
While he does not taut his own public education, he does demonstrate that it was through his dedication to sound economic principles that led to his success.
As he writes in later years:
“One of the problems when you become successful is that jealousy and envy inevitably follow. There are people—I categorize them as life’s losers—who get their sense of accomplishment and achievement from trying to stop others. As far as I’m concerned, if they had any real ability they wouldn’t be fighting me, they’d be doing something constructive themselves.”
― Donald J. Trump,
“MY STYLE of deal-making is quite simple and straightforward. I aim very high, and then I just keep pushing and pushing and pushing to get what I’m after.”
― Donald J. Trump,
“because much more often than you’d think, sheer persistence is the difference between success and failure.”
― Donald J. Trump,
On competing: “I’m the first to admit that I am very competitive and that I’ll do nearly anything within legal bounds to win. Sometimes, part of making a deal is denigrating your competition.”
So really, the contrasts between the two are quite stark.
The one believes in beating the system down and re-building it in a collectivist construct, the other operates within the system, pushing it to its limits to achieve success.
The system, our system, is designed to promote success for all people.
Anyone who stays after it will eventually succeed.
Both of these Presidents are examples. The success, measured differently.
But Donald Trump exemplifies one who believes in this country. Who made his fortune based on its principles.
Alternately, Obama looks to a place like Russia and F.M. Davis for his compass.
Yes, the contrasts are stark.
I know with which my heart is simpatico.
God Bless Donald Trump, and God Bless America!
You know, Pilate wrestled with this one.
Who can forget from the movie the scene where he wiped the sweat from his brow like Brando in Apocalypse Now, only instead of “the horror” Pilate replicates iteratively the word “Veritas” (truth).
“What is this thing called “the Truth ? ” .
Well, some say it will set you free, while the wicked view it as a snare.
I think the Truth is neither wicked, nor is it overly-righteous.
It does not have to be.
It is the truth.
You know, it has gotten so that most anything that is uttered any more takes on the “smack” of unmitigated lie.
So many yarns have been spun by our media, that now they take on the little boy’s cry.
And the wolves, no longer the politicians, the wolves are the boy.
They are not to be trusted, not to be believed, and when the real wolves set in – no one will be there to lend them a hand.
And when you think about it, liars do die at their own hand.
They become ostracized by society as the cads and bottom feeders which they are.
Sad to objectify people so, but they have taken on that as if it is in their DNA.
Sad, as they have pretty much destroyed wholesale their “ships” – readership, viewership and listener-ship.
What will become of these “ships”.
Well, I’m no titan of economic theory, but every vacuum creates opportunity.
It is just a matter of time, money and wherewithal.
But it will happen.
Always does in capitalism.
Bubbles get filled.
When there is opportunity, some other unsuspecting lad or lass will crank up a printing press, start a broadcast station, or become a “pamphleteer” (in the modern age, a “blogger”).
So, there is hope for the truth.
That hope for this author lies in a willing subjugation to that divine Master of Truth!
I pray I live up to His expectation.
Precii, out !
(oh, and it’s good to be back)