“THESE are the times that try men’s souls. The summer soldier and the sunshine patriot will, in this crisis, shrink from the service of their country; but he that stands it now, deserves the love and thanks of man and woman.” ~Thomas Paine~
This is America’s carnival moment. Its freak time.
And the moment to steel your spine … or watch your nation decompose before your very eyes.
There is a special sickness in the American culture. A lunacy we breathe all day long. A non-stop, freakish roadshow of pompous grand-standing, fraud-tears, and pretentious indignation.
There’s no realness anymore. Everyone’s a faker. A poser. A counterfeit human being of some virtue they know nothing about.
It’s the age of phony contrarians. Clowns who pick a disturbing point of view because it’s likely to win them some poisoned glamour. But many are not so alert … and the outrageous and preposterous find vulgar approval.
And so gender crusaders demand schools with asexual pronouns and unisex bathrooms … for children. A new president infuriates a vulgar, pussy-hatted posse that hasn’t a clue what’s bothering them. And others shove the nation straight into danger because … they insist … secure borders will offend the most offensive slaughterers on the planet.
That’s the sort of carnival we live in today.
Then there are offensive gagsters like this Griffin woman who just go too, too far … and then blame every invented scapegoat … from “old white men” to “white-privileged racists” … to soothe their stumble into stupidity.
And there’s not an ounce of embarrassment to be found anywhere … because that would require a conscience … and there’s no such thing like that around any more. It’s extinct.
Every new day begins with weird anticipation. And we are never disappointed.
Not ever.
Because there are old reliables who never fail to gag us.
Like Maher, Schumer, and the extra-filthy Stephen Colbert. Don’t forget Sharpton, Pelosi, Cuomo, and that California moonbeam, Jerry Brown. All master pied-pipers of farce who can infuriate the uninformed with their special dog whistles. And they’ll ridicule a guy like Tim Tebow off the stage … but make a hero of some forgettable athlete dressed in a Fidel Castro t-shirt talking about human rights.
And all of the feigned outrage and the pithy sound-bites have a single goal … to keep us all glued to this dysfunctional bacteria we call government. That virus that now infects our culture and gouges itself into our souls every damn day. In every damn way.
And this week they’ll attempt to railroad a president who’s ignored the inbred, political establishment … and promised to return government to us … the people.
“TYRANNY, like hell, is not easily conquered; yet we have this consolation with us, that the harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph.”
That’s why we are here. In this moment. At war. With nonsense.
We are the unlikely disinfectants. The deplorable disinfectants. Here to neutralize that stenchy plague of televised liars and two-faced politicians now under hot scrutiny because of their own creepy idiocy.
This nation is a disturbing mess … and in great distress. Seduced by this entertainment of madness. But it’s outrage we need … if we want command of our lives again.
There are now millions so numbed they can’t do without the clown-class. So many sad-ass devotees herd-managed by sick shepherds who bark them to this outrage or that supposed bit of injustice.
And that’s the challenge of the moment.
No more encouraging madness. No more exploding heads. No more asshat throngs of confused pussy-hatters. No more gender-addled bathroom crusaders or look-at-me exhibitionists.
No more urban wreckers and sneering, cop-killing cheerleaders. No more green-eyed screw-ups who demand what others have earned. No more wannabe AntiFa warriors dressed in Underoos … wielding garbage-can shields and broomstick swords.
No more tip-toe language. No more political correctness. No more homogenized truth. And no more bullshit.
“WHAT we obtain too cheap, we esteem too lightly: it is dearness only that gives every thing its value. Heaven knows how to put a proper price upon its goods; and it would be strange indeed if so celestial an article as FREEDOM should not be highly rated.”
This is no time to be a sunshine patriot.
If we can’t get real … and stay real … we deserve what’s on the horizon. That’s where the sun sets.
It’s also where nations go to die.
Denis Ian
Missives Worth Reading 