As if that were not bad enough, we are now acting as if we are frightened little mice. We don’t even trust ourselves with a firearm. We are currently caught up in a national debate about whether “scary-looking weapons” are to blame for killing human beings, or whether other human beings, likely insane, are guilty of homicide — AND — to what degree we should punish the innocent for the crimes of others. In the cock-eyed world we live in, here in America today, THAT makes perfect sense.
I ask: Where the heck are the men? No. I mean – MEN – as in REAL MEN! Please tell me we have not tracked so far toward our feminine side that I actually have to define what a man is for you! JEEZ!
I want to puke when I see our leaders weeping on TV — right there in front of God and everybody. No. I am not referring to Obama. He has yet to weep on national TV. His play-acting before the cameras, wiping away nonexistent tears, was truly awful theater. I hope he was embarrassed when he saw the playback later …’cause it embarrassed me.
I truly MUST be getting old. I was raised in in era when men were men — and the women were glad of it!
As a kid I hunted. Yes, I hunted with real weapons. I knew, without doubt, that when I killed my prey, it was dead, gone, kaput. I knew that in a few minutes, at the commercial break, it WOULD NOT get up and amble off into the deep woods or fly away into the bright blue sky. No. I knew I had taken its life. It was DEAD. I was responsible. So, I took it home and the family ate it. It was that cycle of life “thingy.” And it was real — period!
Children played games, like “Army,” “Cops and Robbers,” “Cowboys and Indians,” etc. These were games in which we used toy replica weapons of guns and bows, our fingers, or even a prop, such as a stick that would represent a long gun of some kind.
We shot each other multiple times, lay upon the ground as newly dead corpses for a couple of minutes, then rose to rejoin game. There was never even a hint, not even a suggestion of a hint, that we did not know the difference between “PLAYING dead” and BEING dead.
See, we lived in a culture that was NOT politically correct. We didn’t camouflage unpleasant things. We LIVED right through those unpleasant events and they became learning experiences.
The old joke about the father teaching his son to swim by tossing him off the pier — is true! My dad did it to me. No money was dished out for a government approved swimming instructor to teach me to swim. Nope. I learned in one very swift and surprising lesson. And, as you can see, I have never forgotten it.
Americans were a different people then. We were tough as nails, resilient, resourceful, proud, and self reliant. We didn’t need anyone to take care of us. WE took care of ourselves and the community and the churches took care of those who were temporarily down on their luck due to illness or temporary unemployment. (Back then “temporarily out of work” meant just that — temporarily. A man took care of his family — if he had to dig ditches or swamp stables. Honest work was honest work. It made no difference if he worked for the local bank or the local fertilizer dealer.)
My mother was sort of a community “do-gooder.” She’d place boxes in local grocery stores (with the owner’s permission) into which shoppers would place donations of food for the folks down on their luck in our community. After about a week, she’d collect those boxes of food, sort the food into smaller boxes, and load the back of dad’s 1939 Chevrolet business coupe and drive from one unfortunate family’s home to the other, and deliver that food to them as “love offerings” from their neighbors.
It was what we did. We instinctively knew there was no place for the government in this act of neighborly concern and love.
Hey. I’m so old I remember when the “strong, silent,” type man was admired. Today, we want to toss him into a mental institution! He is now referred to as “anti-social.” Somehow,we have managed to twist a man’s natural character into something bad, something sinister. The mob is not crazy. The man who refuses to join the mob is now the crazy one. How crazy IS THAT?
Parents were responsible for raising their children. You taught your child right from wrong. You DID NOT teach them moral relativism. You made darned sure that child KNEW, without doubt, what was right and what was wrong. You also taught them the consequences of bad decisions. It was YOUR responsibility as a parent to do so.
It did not take a village to raise the children of my era. Families raised their children, taught them the values of THEIR family and brought them up in the FAITH of THEIR family. Children were TAKEN to church, NOT SENT. There were few, if any, day care centers. If parents needed someone to “watch” the kids for a while, that responsibility fell to grandma and grandpa — the family.
Boys were taught how to be men by their fathers and grandfathers and uncles. Little girls were taught how to be women by their mothers, grandmothers, and aunts.
It was all — THE FAMILY. It was as it should have been and should be today. The family was — and is — the foundation of a society.
Today, Americans can no longer even define a family. Is it any wonder that our nation is in such a mess?
What does it say about the character a nation when its own warriors are killing themselves in greater numbers than the enemy can do it?
Look. A people cannot live as we Americans have done, for a generation or two, and not expect to grow soft — both physically and mentally. And America has arrived at the end stage.
Let’s face it. We are a mess. And we are on our way out as a great nation. Having already ceded our global leadership role, we are on the relatively short march to the dustbin of history there to rest among the other great empires of the past, all of which died of national suicide.
There was a time, and not very long ago, when I thought Americans had it in them to reverse the slide into oblivion. But no longer. I have been slapped in the face by reality.
Our most recent Presidential Election was evidence enough that Americans have given up on freedom and liberty. It, apparently, is just too much work to maintain a state of freedom. It is sooo much easier to be a slave and allow someone else to be responsible for us. Americans have now chosen mediocrity as their standard. We call it “the NEW NORM.”
I’ve grown weary. Tired of trying to rally what is not there TO rally. I have now realized — there is no THERE there! America is an empty husk of its former self. (Don’t worry. I’m not telling our enemies anything they don’t already know. If you do not believe me, ask Mr. Putin of Russia. He is already maneuvering Russia to fill the leadership void left by America’s Obama).
“An army composed of sheep but led by a lion is more powerful than an army of lions led by a sheep.” Many historical figures are given credit for the preceding proverb. I don’t know whom to credit.
As I survey modern day America, I see a nation of sheep led by — a sheep. If you know anything about sheep, you know that a trained goat is used to lead the other sheep to slaughter house. Thus the name “Judas goat.” Why use a goat rather than another sheep? Simple. A goat is smarter than a sheep. The sheep are slaughtered while the life of the Judas goat is spared.
Having a nation of sheep led by another sheep tells one everything one needs to know about that nation — dumb, easily led, and headed for the slaughter.
Sadly, America is being fleeced along the way to the slaughter house. It’s sort of akin to paying an admittance price to one’s own slaughter. How sick IS that?
It is depressing being a member of the “can do” generation observing the “can’t do” generation destroy nearly two and a half centuries of hard work creating a nation unlike anything the world had ever seen.
If my generation made a grand mistake, it was our having faith that following generations of Americans would have, at least, the same love of freedom and liberty, the same degree of self reliance, self respect, and pride in the American experiment that we did. In that — we were totally mistaken.
The great melting pot has finally boiled its contents down and those contents have coelesed into something quite alien to the aspirations of the original founders of the country. Unlike the old Americans the new Americans yearn for the return of the shackles, yokes, and chains of lords and masters. And rest assured — they SHALL have them.
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