This is Henry Kissinger’s dream (98 years old and still dreamin’)–“a universal world order.”
We have never had a universal world order, or a global government. But we’ve had plenty of the next worse thing–multinational empires, whose builders swallowed up as much of the world as they could. Romans, Assyrians, Mongols, Russians–scads of them.
They all had one thing in common: they ruled by brute force. The ruling nation governed all the subject peoples; and anyone who stepped out of line would soon be hearing from the legions. Violence was the only way to keep all these subject nations on the same page. Genghis Khan could tell you that.
For anyone to assert that now, today, a global government could rule by consent of the governed, instead of by knocking heads together, is delusional.
God defend us from this folly.
I have no idea why, but my computer has absolutely refused to let me post a picture of Henry Kissinger. Artificial Intelligence at work! Oh, well, a snake’ll do…
It seemed like such a good idea at the time! Counter the ominous power of the Soviet Union by making friends with China–Red China, with Chairman Mao in charge. This was the almost shocking new policy cooked up by Secretary of State Henry Kissinger and put into play by President Richard Nixon’s visit to China… in 1972. Many of you reading this hadn’t been born yet, so you can’t really imagine the jolt this gave the rest of us.
Now China is kicking sand in Uncle Sam’s face and most of the communists who fight against us are members of the Democrat Party here at home. And Kissinger is still around! Almost 100 years old, and still talking.
In 2019 he predicted “Artificial Intelligence will fundamentally alter human consciousness,” although he didn’t specify how that might be done. He seemed worried it’d be something like The Terminator movies. You know: we lose control, and the machines start a nuclear war, and most of us die.
In 2020 he and his buddies at the Council on Foreign Relations discussed the new “global international system” and how it would be affected by the COVID-19 pandemic: “The pandemic is imposing on us a universal world order,” he said. Which was to say, his fondest dream was coming true. Always a big world order fan. I’ll have more to say about that in a little while.
So Henry the K is still around–still brewing mischief, some might say (they haven’t forgiven him for Nixon’s piece of the Vietnam War).
We really must put more effort into defeating his ideas.
The only world government we recognize, the only one we will support, is the Kingdom of Our Lord Jesus Christ
Introducing Chapter CDXXXV of her epic romance, Oy, Rodney, Violet Crepuscular chides her readers for demanding more romance.
“You’d think they’d be satisfied,” she writes, “with a cyclops rampaging about the countryside while the town awaits the delivery of sea monkeys–but no, that’s not good enough! They want this to be a kissing book–ugh! Well, if it’s kissing they want, it’s kissing they’ll get!”
Patching up a lover’s quarrel caused by a difference of opinion between their respective invertebrate pets, Willis Twombley, the American adventurer who thinks he’s Sargon of Akkad, embarks on a hot and heavy smooching session with Lady Margo Cargo, Lord Jeremy Coldsore’s financier. (Shouldn’t that be “fiancee”?) Now that she’s fitted herself with a new upholstered wooden leg, Lady Margo is hot to trot (“You have no idea how distasteful it is to me to have to write such tripe,” Violet interjects.) In the course of this athletic love-making, Lady Margo’s wig falls off, her glass eye pops out, and Twombley’s six-gun slips out of the holster and into Oswin the Crayfish’s aquarium.
“It’s not cheating,” explains Ms. Crepuscular, “because Lady Margo is convinced that Mr. Twombley and Lord Jeremy are the same person. All attempts to demonstrate otherwise have failed so far–but at least her conscience is clear.”
Here she terminates the chapter before things get out of hand.
As for the cyclops, “If nobody cares about him tossing people’s cottages around like basketballs,” Violet concludes, “well, isn’t that a sad commentary upon our time?”
She will spend the rest of the day consoling the neglected cyclops.
Some fifteen years ago, maybe more, before the seminaries really got rolling with womanist theology and Social Justice as a substitute for God, I interviewed a high official of the United Methodist Church. And this is what he said.
“The first thing I learned in seminary is that the Bible is not the word of God.” He seemed proud of it: too clever, he, to believe that the Bible is anything but a lot of old, cobwebby, made-up stories about things that never happened and people who never lived.
“Truth,” he said, “is determined by realpolitik.” (Maybe he thought he was Bismarck, or Henry Kissinger.) Whoever can round up the most votes, whoever can spend the most money, whoever can most successfully intimidate the opposition, gets to say what truth is.
This leaves us with no truth at all.
That was years ago. The flatline liberal churches were already carrying a heavy chain of hypocrisy; and, like Scrooge in A Christmas Carol, they have “labored on it ever since. It is a ponderous chain.”
But we do have the Bible, it is God’s word, and we have one another.
Which means we don’t need the flatline churches. And more and more Christians are coming to realize this.