With our culture in full collapse and our constitutional freedoms in tattered ruins, Republican luminaries tell us to be good sports and let the butchers of our values enjoy their prize. We are in no position to thank God for our country at this time if we are thus collaborating in her demise.
Barbara Bush thinks that we should “get on with it”. Republican leadership thinks that we should salute the other side’s collectivist banner since they won the game. Bobby Jindal and Newt Gingrich think that Mitt Romney should stop insulting the vast numbers of “citizens” who voted for Obama because they enjoy freebees. Not since Nikita Krushchev declared, “We will bury you,” have Americans had to listen to so much “lie down and die” talk. In fact, Krushchev later explained that he meant “your own working class will bury you.” If he had substituted “your chronically dependent class”, he would have nailed it.
For we have been buried. The United States of America, as a coherent society, is dead. But not every last one of us who believes in common decency, objective truth, honesty, responsibility, hard work, self-control, self-sacrifice, and devotion to a supreme moral power has yet been smothered in the tsunami of societal collapse. We still have a little time to make lifeboats out of driftwood.
This isn’t a game, Mrs. Bush. Fighting for one’s life is not a game. When a rival team beats your son’s high school on the field of play, then you throw up your hands, smile, and watch the kids congratulate each other in good sportsmanship. But when someone breaks into your house, knocks your son senseless, and runs away with the money that would have sent him to college or been much of his legacy, you don’t say, “Well played, Burglar!
Or maybe a Republican of Bush/Rove/Christie ilk really would say that: i.e., a member of the Judas Party to which Mrs. Bush has generously donated one husband and (so far) two sons. After all, the poor stiff whom the burglar bludgeoned would be Mrs. Bush’s butler, no significant cash would actually be kept anywhere outside of a state-of-the-art vault, and the burglar’s haul would end up being invested in some shady sort of trafficking that would eventually profit the Bush portfolio. It was the Republicans, let us recall, who originally tampered with Allen West’s district, and it was the Republican House that refused to back West this past week against an election so patently fraudulent that any red-blooded American would be rioting in the streets. That House might have seated West by special vote and undone a flagrant, overweening, contemptible outrage practiced by the Florida Democrat mafia… but its leadership decided instead to shake hands across the aisle. Chris Christie might have denied our Czar-in-Chief the opportunity to use New Jersey’s tragedy as an electioneering photo-op… but he instead placed his state above his country (translation: his own political launching pad above the survival of constitutional government).
One might almost be forgiven for concluding that this election cycle turned out just the way the Republicans wanted—that Messrs. Boehner and Cantor have for years been itching to rush over to the other side. Socialism isn’t really so very bad for business, you know: not if you’re a very, very big business. It utterly annihilates your smaller competition. It gives you access to state bail-outs and state support. You can continue shifting your plant and labor to China and India while a complicit government propaganda machine drapes you in the Stars and Stripes.
A border guard lies dead—and uncounted innocents in Mexico, including dozens of children, have been murdered—thanks to Operation Fast and Furious; but Eric Holder is back for a repeat performance, and the story that never really lived in the mainstream media is now ice-cold. A U.S. ambassador and his heroic defenders were hung out to be slaughtered by this Administration… and that story, too, grows colder by the minute. This president could walk up to Ann Coulter in a roomful of reporters and splatter her brains all over the carpet with a Glock… and the scribbling sycophants would paean his marksmanship. He is our first sort-of-African-sort-of-American president, he doesn’t give a crap about private property (except in private, among his cronies), he believes that hard work means taking what you can however you can, he ties those who honor truth in knots of their own naiveté, he shoots hoops and sings the blues, he views tradition as a heap of tiresome bullcorn, he smokes weed, he’s cool with free love… why, he is the minted facsimile of the New American. He is everything that will live (for a while, until the monster begins devouring her young) after we of the old America all die. He is the anti-president of the anti-America, and we shall most certainly have at least four more years of him now.
This isn’t a game, Mrs. Bush. Justice has been raped over and over before our eyes, the rule of rule lies in shreds, decency has been chased deep into hiding, free speech is menaced with arrest and jail, grandmothers are being sent to cheap graves on cheap pain pills, small business are being pounded to dust by arrogant bureaucracy, dollars are being flung into the economy like rolls of toilet paper, debt is being multiplied like the speed of a nose-diving jet, children around the world are being vaporized from week to week as a megalomaniac wages a private war with high-tech play things… and your advice is to get over it. The fruit of your ancient wisdom is this: to be a good sport.
This isn’t a freakin game, Mrs. Bush.
Approximately half of our “fellow citizens” are now our inveterate enemies. They oppose our essential values more rabidly, in many cases, than do fundamentalist Muslims, the ruling despots of Red China, or other desperate characters around the world in whose resistance we are supposed to volunteer our sons and daughters for military service. The greatest enemies we paleo-Americans have in the world are the neo-Americans who spit, trample, and defecate day by day on everything we hold dear.
We, to them, are racists, bigots, sexists, homophobes, hypocrites, cretins, Neanderthals, Luddites, various other words whose meanings they are too insanely self-righteous to analyze, and many more four-letter words whose meaning is merely a collective middle finger. They, our “fellow citizens”, are liars, cheats, frauds, traitors, louts, thugs, brats, punks, narcissists, exhibitionists, sociopaths, antinomians, sybarites, fantasists, blockheads, slaves, and fools. At what point, Governor Jindal and Mr. Gingrich, should one refuse to shake hands with a terminally adolescent obscenity-machine who urinates on one’s shoes, snitches one’s wallet, and screams in one’s face? What does it take to make you guys mad? How far do you think you can bend over in your efforts to “understand” their side until you fall into their sewage?
This is war—and war is not a game. Those of us who feel morally obligated to allow ourselves—and, more importantly, our principles—to drift meekly into oblivion as we live out some sort of quietist faith should by all means pray over their turkey this Thanksgiving as if nothing were happening; for, to them, nothing ever really does happen. Life is a passing illusion… a bus stop on the way to death and new life. May their passage be swift.
For the rest of us, Thanksgiving should be a day of shame, and a day of new resolution. We have squandered what God has given us, and as of this moment most of us continue to evade the unpleasant reality that burns our eyes even through their closed lids. These people, these New Americans among whom we live and breathe, are enemies of truth, and those who compromise with them make a cowardly pact with lies—a one-sided promise of indefinite appeasement whose terms are more loathsome and squalid than falsehood itself.
Some specific recommendations for fighting this new kind of war: don’t allow your children to work in or for this government. Don’t let them wear the uniform of the United States. They may well be ordered to commit acts that will haunt them throughout their lives, and their commanders will very likely not stand behind them if their disgrace becomes international news. On the contrary—they will become scapegoats offered to the wolves.
Support and encourage a strong state resistance to dictatorial top-down policies. I personally should like to see state militias raised to protect international borders: I would willingly pay higher taxes to chase drug cartels out of the Southwest. When Holder & Co. command us to desist… well, I should like to see just how they handle our giving them the bird. Our national guardsmen will not shoot their fathers and brothers just because Holder & Co. order them to: not just yet, they won’t.
If you are the owner of a small business, hold out with what you have for as long as you can. Don’t try to expand and prosper in spite of everything: don’t offer this regime any propaganda fodder in its ongoing effort to sell an idiot populace on the “recovery”.
Arm yourself. Police may or may not come to your aid in the near future. In Cleveland, police refused to respond to the calls of election observers being illegally bustled out of polling places. Buy a gun. If Eric Holder should ever take it away, buy a black-powder muzzle-loader, or even a bow and arrow. Obtain whatever you can to dissuade psychopathic hooligans from kicking in your window and plundering your home like a bunch of pirates boarding a galleon. Die hard.
Keep having children. Our new rulers want you to die, ideologically and demographically. Don’t play along. Make vibrant families, and feed them on peanuts and spuds from the back yard, if you must.
Stop going to movies, and stop buying anything connected with Propa-Tainment Complex. Stop patronizing mainstream news media. Stop rewarding them. This is a war, for crying out loud: you’re not being asked to stick your head out where bullets are whizzing past—only to desist from debasing your family’s values by lapping up the saccharine poison dumped in overflowing troughs before you.
Home-school your kids, or at least put them where they will be raised to prize inner worth rather than skin color and gender, to admire temperance rather than debauchery, to express individualism through eloquent artistry rather than through grotesque counter-conformity, and to handle new knowledge with humility rather than to assume themselves elevated above their parents by a headful of progressivist cant.
Know your faith—know it intimately rather than by word of mouth. Do not suppose that the message of Christ is to smile and be pleasant as truth is violated, innocence undermined, justice trampled, taste brutalized, and free will fettered. Your faith means nothing if you merely look on at one atrocity after another, tacitly participating in the slaughter of each new victim through your “principled” refusal to raise an objection. The pangs you feel in watching the butchery of honor, truth, and decency are not those of the New Man fighting down the Old Man’s belligerence. They are the deep inward bite of moral cowardice. If your spiritual advisor constantly eggs you on to feed this worm with your soul… get another guide.
Use less of everything—give yourself more power by making yourself less dependent. Always remember that our enemies, both Democrat and Republican, need us to grow ever more dependent. Pull in the opposite direction. Find medicines online or by word of mouth that treat your ailments (as your ancestors did) and take such good care of yourself that even the doctor sees you rarely. Be as free as you can: become tough, so that you may be free.
I thank God this week—and every week—for the undying certainty within me that there will always be more of us than of them. The only way we lose, in the long run, is if we defeat our own cause. Please recognize, as a first step in this all-or-nothing struggle, just who your enemies are. Some of them are standing right beside you, with their arm around your shoulder.