They’re only 20% of the electorate, but they rule over 100% of our country and its institutions. I can’t explain how that happens; but I can easily explain what ‘Progressive’ ideology–aka liberalism, socialism, whatevuh–is.
Just remember the ABCs of Progressivism, given below, and you will always be able to understand what makes these people tick.
1. The economy is too complex and unpredictable and unstable to be left alone, and must be managed by the sages in Washington.
2. The natural processes of the planet are too complex and unpredictable and unstable to be left alone, and must be managed by the sages in Washington.
3. Ordinary people don’t have what it takes to manage their own lives, and must be managed by the sages in Washington.
4. All Democrats are geniuses, and all Republicans are wicked fools.
5. Any Democrat becomes omniscient the moment he or she takes public office.
6. Whether you dig deep or whether you dig shallow, you will find George Soros at the bottom of any Progressive enterprise.
7. Everything good is evil, and everything evil is good.
See? You can sum them up in only seven sentences which account for practically everything they say and do.
So the other day our Community Organizer-in-Chief gave a speech in which he said we Americans have got to get out of the habit of thinking the government can’t abolish “income inequality.”
In all my life, I’ve never seen a president trying so hard to turn some groups of citizens against others. We have “income inequality,” he said, because “the rich”–that is, anyone who has a dime more than you do–are screwing us. If only we give him still more power beyond that which he has already scooped into his hot little hands, he’ll make everybody equal.
Well, why doesn’t he start by giving you and me some of the colossal fortune he enjoys? As we speak, he is preparing for his annual vacation to Hawaii–as distinct from the many other vacations he takes throughout the year–starting with a luxurious flight aboard Air Force One that will cost the rest of us some millions of dollars. Does he mean to imply that, if it weren’t for those selfish rich people, we could all enjoy annual vacations in Hawaii?
Will micro-management by the government provide us all with second homes on pleasant beaches? Will we all get to kick back at Martha’s Vineyard every summer? Will all of us–even the laziest, most incompetent, and most dishonest of us–wind up living large on someone else’s money?
If, by some miracle of divine providence, America lasts another thousand years, we will never live down the disgrace that this man was our president.
I’m tired of writing about wicked idiots who want to control our lives, so today I’ll take a break to write about something worthwhile.
A Bear Named Winnie (2004) is a simple, straightforward children’s movie starring Michael Fassbender and David Suchet. My wife and I watched it the other day, and we have both dreamed of it since. This uncomplicated little tale is haunting us!
It’s the true story of an orphaned bear cub adopted by Canadian soldiers on their way to fight in France in World War I, and how the bear becomes the inspiration for A. Milne’s classic, Winnie the Pooh. (Helpful hint: if you’ve never read Winnie the Pooh, drop whatever you’re doing and go get a copy!)
We tend to find World War I stories unbearably poignant–such a waste of life as was never before seen in the civilized world. But this movie doesn’t dwell on what we already know to be horrible. I was thankful to be spared the gory details, and almost flabbergasted to see a happy ending.
Suchet kind of steals the show as a drunken, incompetent, upper-class twit of a general; but really, the story’s much more important than the acting.
And I think it’s the musical score that really got under my skin. The film’s main musical theme is a lovely old hymn, This is My Father’s World (one of my favorites: never fails to bring a tear to my eye). There is also a WWI soldiers’ song sung to the tune of What a Friend We Have in Jesus, another favorite hymn. If these two hymns don’t move you, you’d better have yourself checked out: you might be dead.
So, days after seeing the film, the music is still playing in my mind, and Patty and I have both had dreams in which we were petting bear cubs–and if you’re tired of reading and hearing about bloodsucking moronic vampires murdering our country, A Bear Named Winnie will soothe your jangled soul.
From the Thin-Skinned Overbearing Idiocy Dept., by way of The Guardian, Dec. 3, 2013: Music legend Bob Dylan is being sued by a Croatian group for saying “Serbs can sense Croatian blood.”
Dylan made the remark in an interview last year in Rolling Stone, in which he was trying, in his clumsy way, to say that racism has been a bad thing for America.
So… he gives an interview to an American magazine… and Croatians are suing him… for violating the French law against “racial hatred.”
This much foolishness speaks for itself.
But really–do we have so few laws in our own country, that we have to be made vulnerable to prosecution under the laws of every other country, too? I mean, how many Chinese laws have you broken today, without even knowing it? Maybe you should be sued under Saudi Arabia’s law against not being a Muslim. And you can’t hardly say anything without violating some Canadian hate speech law.
One-world-government anus-heads will only be happy when everyone’s mouth is sewed shut. Except their own, of course.
And I’m sure I’ve broken someone’s law by writing that.
Sometime in the distant past, according to a hot-shot scientist who is billed as “a leading geneticist,” chimpanzees had sex with pigs–uh, why?–and produced hybrid offspring that were the origin of the human race. See the report in The Daily Mail, Dec. 2, 2013, ‘Humans evolved after a female chimpanzee mated with a pig’: Extraordinary claim made by American geneticist.
Dr. Eugene McCarthy–no relation to the hippy-dippy 60s politician of the same name–is a former professor in the Dept. of Genetics at the University of Georgia and currently the director of Macroevolution.net. He has also suggested that the duck-billed platypus arose as a bird+mammal hybrid.
I have become radically skeptical of Science.
But, hey, let’s do some science! Let’s get a female chimpanzee to mate with a pig and see what happens. What? The chimp doesn’t find the pig attractive? Well, send her to public school for a while. If all else fails, we can try artificial insemination. Go ahead, do it.
What a nice guy I am. I have resisted the temptation to indulge in all the obvious wisecracks. But of course I can’t be responsible for any comments made by readers.
Y’know, we believe a great many things because Scientists have told us that they’re true.
What if a lot of them aren’t?
One of my readers alerts me that Facebook has deleted a comment by “a fit mom” to the effect that “plus-size lingerie models” are not good role models to exalt in the midst of an obesity epidemic.
Funny, isn’t it? When the Worst Lady or Mayor Bloomberg tell us what we can or can’t eat, they get high fives from all the media for knowing what’s best for us ignorant serfs. But let one of the plebs make a similar comment, and Facebook brands it “hate speech.”
In one of the many videos taken of our country’s “Black Friday” capers, we see an immense fat woman trying on a wig while sprawled on the department store floor in the midst of the impromptu rugby scrum staged by her fellow customers. A lot of them are roly-poly, too. It’s not the kind of visual image that helps you sleep at night.
How did so many people get to be so fat? Is this the self-portrait that today’s America wants to pass on to tomorrow’s?
Like so many kids in the 1950s, the very first pet I had was a goldfish. And the very first thing they told you in the goldfish book was not to over-feed the little fellow: or he’ll just keep eating and eating until one morning he’s floating belly-up and not smelling too good.
A goldfish overeats because he’s only a fish and doesn’t know any better. But I think people are overeating to fill a hole in their spirits that cannot be filled by food or video games or any of the other goodies they’re ready to kill each other to obtain on Black Friday.
Behold–50 years of public schooling, self-esteem, entitlement, moral imbecility, and replacing God with false gods and idols has done its work only too well: a mob of fat people rolling around on the floor, fighting over things they don’t need.
I think I’ll watch Miracle on 34th Street this afternoon. It’s a wonderful fairy tale. It’s also a great movie about fairy tales.
In my time the biggest fairy tale ever told is that the world doesn’t need Christianity anymore, it can get along just fine without Jesus.
Uh-uh. Yeah, sure looks it. How many stories have I seen this morning–just this morning–of people rioting, stabbing each other, having apoplexies, etc., during the course of their “Black Friday” shopping? There was no such thing as “Black Friday,” not so long ago. Some ad men invented it, and people went for it. You can’t get them to hear the Gospel, but they’ll kill and be killed for Black Friday.
And then there’s the rest of the news: the new urban craze, “Knockout,” which used to be known as unprovoked assault and battery; our elected officials’ most current lies; this new sexual liberation movement, that new wrinkle in public education to support the new sexual liberation movement…
Yeah. Post-Christian civilization.
Even if Christianity were a fairy tale, which it isn’t, it would still be a thousand times better than what our ruling nincompoops are pleased to call reality. But it isn’t the Bible that’s the fairy tale.
It says something about our wise men and our scholars and our whoopee crowd that they can’t even make up a fairy tale that doesn’t suck.
Sometimes I think I would enjoy writing a fantasy novel in which the lead character is a coward and an idiot who can’t do anything right. For instance, the Knight turns to him and says, “Soon the battle will begin.” And Mr. Screw-up answers, “What? What did you say? Did you say battle? Man, no way–I’m outta here!” Think Bill Paxton in Aliens or True Lies, and you’ve got exactly the kind of character I mean.
Or, “Sir, did you not know that this is Camelot, and the stronghold of King Arthur?”
“Camel lot? Like you can buy used camels here? Fooey! And what’s this king, Arthur Whatsisname? King of what? Why can’t anyone around here talk sense?”
This could be fun. But it could also get very tiresome: the writer would have to take care not to cross the line. And of course, in addition to the fun of shaking up fantasy cliches, there would have to be a point to the story.
I think some of you can probably guess what that would be.
Here’s hoping you all had a nice Thanksgiving.
In a few minutes we’ve got to hit the road to my sister’s house for Thanksgiving dinner, so I have no time to write my daily blog piece.
I just hope my sadly deluded brother didn’t receive his Organizing For America talking points for browbeating his family over the dinner table, trying to trick them into thinking Obamacare will be good for them. Oh, that’s right–they decided not to do that, after first wasting millions of dollars trying to set it up.
Meanwhile, Patty has Grandma’s old autograph book, with entries starting in 1910. Until we found that book a little while ago, I never knew Grandma’s actual first name was Minerva. That’s a cool name! (And no, I never thought her name was really Grandma.)
Of course her children wanted to sign her book, too; and they did. The youngest, Aunt Florence (she wasn’t an aunt then), in signing the book, reminded her mother that she was “one of the twins”–just in case Momma forgot that she had twins, or forgot what she named them. The other twin, Aunt Joan, wrote the same thing.
I am thankful that we found that book. It does bring Grandma back to me. She used to rub away my headache when I got one. And I confess now that only a few of those headaches were real.
Again, folks, sorry I wasn’t able to write today.
Sometimes I have to step back from watching civilization destroy itself. Of course the American Humanist Assn. is suing a school district because a teacher prayed. Of course 100 million people are going to lose their health insurance, thanks to their own government which many of them, in their stupidity, voted for. Of course a Methodist bishop promises to go on performing sodomite parodies of marriage in his church.
I can’t write about that stuff today.
But I will write about a Thanksgiving tradition at our place.
Every year, on the day after Thanksgiving, my wife and I watch Godzilla vs. Megalon. I told my friends in a Pogo chat room and one of them asked, “Is that football or basketball?”
Neither–it’s Godzilla, King of the Monsters. It’s Japanese monstervision at its finest. See the destruction of cities made from the Toho Film Company’s most exquisite miniatures. See the “USMC” tattoo on the shoulder of the guy who’s supposed to be the high priest of something-or-other on the Lost Continent of Seatopia. See the robot, Jet-Jaguar (“The name suits him!” says his creator), suddenly increase his size several hundredfold–never mind stretching the metal awfully thin–and hear the scientist wisely muse, “He must have programed himself to do that.”
It’s still more coherent than the daily news.
Join Jet-Jaguar as he flies across the Pacific Ocean–and there is no explanation as to how this robot is able to fly those enormous distances, especially with no provision made for fuel–to the sanctuary of Monster Island, where Godzilla lives with all the other monsters. Join Godzilla as he swims back to Japan to save it from Megalon, a giant beetle unleashed by the Seatopians to punish Japan for nuclear tests done by the United States and Russia.
It’s still more coherent than anything that goes on in Congress.
Get this movie and give your brain a day off!