A Battered Dream, An Irrepressible Hope

It's the 4^th of July America.

Would our founding fathers even recognize what we’ve become? Our Republic has disintegrated within a few short generations. Patriotism is bad. Being white is bad. Being a wagon-puller is a privilege.  Perversion is to be accepted as normal. Only black lives matter.  The media is the propaganda arm of the state. People are allowed to vote who cannot read or write above a third grade level, who do not contribute to the community in any functional way, who are wildly ignorant and uneducated despite troves of our nation’s wealth being squandered to give them a hand up. Our institutions of higher learning aren’t; they are progressive-trope training centers for the young and the incredibly stupid, youngsters who should be in the trades or picking our harvests, youngsters who cannot conjugate verbs or identify a noun or a prepositional phrase. They cannot factor numbers, cannot use a ratio to solve an equation, and cannot solve for x, simple computations learned in grade school by older generations.  They know nothing of the forging of our nation, nothing about the history of civilization or how we got to where we are. Our universities are taxpayer money-pits. The young remain mindless and the elites pocket the treasure, laughing all the way to the bank.  Small business is taxed to ultimate death, while Big Business pays no taxes, their owners wallowing in obscene piles of profit. Our health care industry is crumbling. Medicaid/welfare patients receive better care than working families. Our politicians have graduated from being dirty rogues (but OUR dirty rogues) to donning the purple mantle of global movers and shakers, so far removed from the farmer in Iowa or the waitress in Georgia that they may as well be stars in the evening sky, faint and untouchable and unknowable.

Not everyone, however, is a sheep. Guns and ammunition are flying off the shelves. Parents are home schooling their children. Some of our best and brightest are eschewing universities and instead self-educating, valuing knowledge above a worthless and needlessly expensive scrap of sheepskin. Pantries are stocked with emergency rations.  Seed vaults sit upon closet shelves. More families are amassing the tools of survival; hand pumps for wells, cisterns, livestock, medical supplies, extra clothes, wood stoves, shovels, axes, saws.

These are the inheritors of the vision of our founding fathers, these unhyphenated Americans, these men and women who believe in the traditional family, who value the American dream, who believe that men are intelligent enough to rule themselves; these ordinary Americans who believe in hard work, and responsibility, and in faith and charity. 

I do not know what lies in store for our nation, but I do know this: like Stephane Charbonnier, I prefer to die standing than live on my knees. And I know this: where there are patriots, there is strength and there is a shining hope.

   

May God Bless this land that I love.