The Graveyard of Dreams

Posted: November 17, 2013 in Blitherings, Creative Writing

Rusty.  An old, rusty, clunky piece of abandoned equipment, of indeterminate purpose and uncertain origin.  Something you might find abandoned next to a ramshackle barn, choked with weeds and waist-high grass.  It once, clearly, must have served some mighty purpose, some grand, whirring, chugging, kalloomping kathumping purpose full of a barely restrained yet resolute determination to forge ahead, to bend the power of combustion and kinetic energy towards some meaningful end.

Now it sits, rusting and forgotten, except perhaps by some eccentric photographer who vagabonds around the country on a shoestring budget with a care-worn but sturdy camera looking for just the right images of Old America for his next coffee table book.

That’s my writing.  I feel like it once had some steam, some momentum, some sense of energetic purpose that propelled me forward, that spun the gears and flywheels and great kalloomphing belts and pistons and shuddering steel of my creative engine.  Now…spiderwebs.  Nettles and foxglove and morning glory binding the gears and clogging the pistons.

But, maybe, one day some young grandson of the farmer comes to visit, a boy of 9-ish, still young enough to be entranced by the possibilities of maybe, possessed of an imagination not yet worn down by a cynical world that demands everything must be as it seems.  A young man, bored with the rambling discourse of adults, who escapes to a refuge in the fascinating graveyard of old farm equipment and a tumbledown barn full of the mystique of the ancient.

He wanders, bored at first, among the castoffs of another era, the mechanical legacies of a world modern technology has left behind. Wading through rough, country grass, burrs and prickles clinging to his city clothes, he climbs up into the long-abandoned cab and sits in the dark leather seat worn smooth and brittle from years of use and disuse.  The levers and knobs and pedals and dials all portend tasks of such amazing complexity that surely only an elite few could every have truly mastered them!  Suddenly the hazy view through the cracked and dirty windshield fades from its unimaginative vista of old clotheslines and a sagging back porch, instantly transformed with vivid clarity into a churning bustle of activity as the mighty engine roars to life and a great spinning clockwork of gears and gyroscopes and crackling, steam-vented energy begins to drive the great beast forward.

In his young mind’s eye grand swathes of wheat fall before the mighty threshers!  Towering mountains of earth and ore crumble and are subdued by the heaving, belching monstrosity which clanks and grinds and lurches forward, unstoppable in a single-minded devotion driven by diesel and steam and the unquenchable imagination of a 9-year-old boy released from the shackles of a plodding, safe and predictable course of instruction by bored teachers and mindless administrators.

His sentence to a boring summer with his grandparents has been commuted, his pardon provided by the latent magic of rusting red steel and the warm smell of afternoon sun on fields of ripening grass, by a wind heavy with an incense of sun-baked earth and time-worn wood and hay and leather, by the cool escape promised by an abandoned barn’s seemingly fathomless interior.

The great machine is at first a mighty tank rolling over the trenches of a hated and fearsome enemy, then a great harvester gathering in food for a hungry nation, next a magnificent machine worthy of Captain Nemo boring cavernous holes deeper and deeper into the earth in search of elusive treasure and undiscovered civilizations hidden at the center of the world.

I’m trying to be that boy again, to reclaim that young mind, untrammeled by expectations and restrictions and preconceptions.  To see beyond the rust, to give the machine new life, to believe in the power of make-believe to create a new reality.  To reclaim a lost sense of grandeur and magnificence and simple, innocent optimism that so often gets smothered beneath the weeds and dust and thousand other things that can clutter up a life, sometimes.

I want to hear that engine roar to life once more, to see the pistons churn and the smokestack belch forth great gouts of steam, to feel the thrumming might of some pawing, stamping beast pulling at the traces, eager to plunge forward toward a task it was born and bred to perform.

I want to bring the machine back to life.

WHAT!?!  HOW CAN YOU SAY SUCH A THING!???!  RACIST!!  HATER!!!1!1!

Wait.  It get’s better.  DON’T ELECT A WHITE MAN EITHER!  Don’t elect a woman.  Don’t elect a hispanic, or a lesbian, or Jew.  Don’t elect a Mormon or a Christian or a Buddhist.

Next time…Elect. A. PRESIDENT.

The criteria used to select the qualifications of those who serve in the highest offices of our lands, of those who will help frame and craft our laws, who we elect to guide the country forward and make the difficult decisions required of leaders in this day and age should have NOTHING to do with their skin color, their gender, their religion or their “cultural heritage.”

ObamaHalo2I propose that we are in the mess we are in right now because we elected a black man. Not because Barack Obama is black, but because we as a voting populace became so enamored of the idea of electing an African-American as President, became soooo fixated on the sense of accomplishment we could collectively feel at breaking through this cultural barrier into a new, undiscovered “enlightenment” that we allowed ourselves to be swayed.  We turned a blind eye to what should have been some very real concerns about this individual’s (lack of) qualifications, experiences, questionable associations and storied background, and allowed ourselves to be swept along on a carefully manipulated wave of euphoric idealism.

And so we elected a black man.  Because it made us feel good to do it.  Not because he was in any way the most qualified, not because he had any demonstrated talent or ability for the position, not because he would best be able to represent the interests of the United States on the global stage…but because he was an icon we wanted.  More than anything, I think voting for Barack Obama became a sort of social statement about our ability to somehow atone for a shameful past. {Cue Music: “We are marching to Pre-torrrria….}

There aren’t enough of any one particular minority demographic in the United States to elect a President.  Whites, Blacks, Hispanics, Amerian Indians, Asians, young, old, rich, poor…we aaaalll had to play a part.  It became part of a collective social consciousness.  For some it was a chance to speak out, to elect someone they hoped would “represent their interests” better than an establishment white guy might.  For some it was, I think, a chance to show how enlightened, how tolerant, how progressive they were in bucking the existing paradigm.  Many perhaps voted for Barack Obama out of some vague sense of racial or social guilt which they felt might be assuaged or expunged if they participated in this great social awakening.  Of course, many just bought into the class warfare schtick he was selling and wanted the free stuff he was offering.

NONE of which is a very solid foundation for picking a candidate for the office of the President of the United States.

Don’t get me wrong.  I’ve got absolutely no problem with either the idea or the practical reality of someone who is black becoming president.  You put a Herman Cain, Clarence Thomas or an Alan West or maybe even a a Condolleza Rice in there and hey, they’ve got my vote.  Why?  Because I like their politics.  Their personal philosophy resonates with me. I can look at a record of accomplishments which suggest to me a level of overall professional competence which grants me a sense of confidence in their ability to handle the demands of the position.

Not because of, or in spite of their skin color.  Or their gender.  Or their religious beliefs.  Because I think they are the most qualified, and so that other stuff SHOULDN’T MATTER. Right?  Isn’t that what true equality is really all about?  Shouldn’t THAT be considered the truly “enlightened” approach?

So, I hope we’ve learned our lesson.  As we sit mired in double digit unemployment, as our national debt continues to skyrocket, after six years with no signed federal budget and a sequestration which imposes daily pain on the infrastructure of this nation while the President golfs and vacations, I hope our euphoria has faded.  I hope our guilt-motivated idealism has moderated a bit.  I hope that when the times comes again, whether on the local or national stage, we don’t elect a black man, or a white man, or a woman, or a {fill in the blank}.

I hope we wise up and elect the people MOST QUALIFIED to lead this country, regardless of how their chormosomes are configured.

Via Drudge…

IG: White House ‘Made it Impossible’ to Pursue Lead in Fast and Furious Probe

IG report on Fast And Furious directly implicated the White House, and open wonders why more people aren’t being prosecuted for malfeasance.

http://cnsnews.com/news/article/ig-white-house-made-it-impossible-pursue-lead-fast-and-furious-probe

 

Median Income in Ohio Hits 27 year low

http://www.dispatch.com/content/stories/local/2011/09/14/median-income-in-ohio-hits-27-year-low.html

Ohio households were poorer last year than they’ve been in more than 25 years, and the number of people living in poverty is higher than it’s been in more than 30 years, according to a census report released yesterday

 

The Myth of the Rock Star Professor

http://washingtonexaminer.com/chapter-ii-the-myth-of-the-rock-star-professor/article/2508418

And, unlike others on the Chicago Law School faculty who published numerous articles in legal journals, Obama’s byline did not appear in a single legal journal while he taught there.

Obama wasn’t a professor; he was a lecturer, a position that the Chicago Law School said in 2008 “signifies adjunct status.” He was elevated to a “senior lecturer” in 1996, the year he was first elected to the Illinois Senate in Springfield.

 

The United States of Obama?

Posted: September 20, 2012 in Obamania, Politics

There is a disturbing trends in Obama’s cult of personality, a trend started as far back as his first campaign for President.  His use of the ol’ Red, White and Blue to evoke a sense patriotism along with personal logo.  Unfortunately, more and more, his campaign has felt free to adopt imagery and slogan clearly copied wholesale from many of histories failed Marxist experiments.

 

 

 

 

 

 

I honestly have to wonder if he gets re-elected, if we can expect a bid to have his face on stamps and currency before the year is out.  He clearly sees himself as this visionary, the revolutionary who will right the wrongs of capitalist excesses….as his forebearers attempted to do.

Thanks, but no thanks, there B.O.

 

 

Remember, back in the day, when a foreign country said that they were going to track down and try to kill an American citizen on American soil, we’d all sort of band together regardless of what we thought of that particular individual, link arms, rack back the charging handle and say, with a firm, quiet conviction, “Just try it, asshole.  Go ahead.  Make my day.”

Yeah, good times.  Good times.

Nowadays, it seems, the preferred course of action is to give thoughtful, pensive consideration to the frothing, manical ravings of sword-waving camel humpers, apologize for offending their unwashed sensibilities, and subsequently reformulate and tune our foreign policy to ensure that the Champions of Sharia have more say about how we live our lives that our own laws and Constitution do.

Whodathunkit?

So, apparently, under the Obama Administration, it’s more important to placate xenophobic islamicist temper tantrums than the defend one of the foundational tenets of our political system and way of life known as “free speech.”

Can we impeach him NOW?!?!

Is it just me, or does the political rhetoric and milquetoast responses we seem to be getting out of the current administration in response to current events unfolding in the Middle East seem almost like the responses of a battered spouse?  An angry mob storms our embassy and desecrates our flag, and our embassador apologizes?

I can’t help but picture some drunk, ill-bred mouth breather in a sweat stained t-shirt who rolls in after a particularly bad bender and just lays into his poor wife, beating her and throwing her around.  “WHY do you MAKE me DO this?!” he screams, with blow after blow.  “You JUST. DON’T. LISTEN!!!!”

She cowers in a corner, covering her face, and sobs out, “I know, I know.  I’m sorry. It’s my fault.  I’ll try harder. I promise!  Just…please…don’t hit me again.”

Time and again radical islamic terrorists attack our people, our facilities, our country’s honor, and “we” opt for a “measured response.”  We don’t want to make them angry.  We strike a conciliatory tone, hoping to “defuse” the tension and forestall another confrontation.

Which only ensures that there WILL be another confrontation, because, really, what’s to stop them? Time and again we prove that we won’t fight back, that we won’t respond with the kind of overwhelming, crushing force which would actually serve as a deterrent.

In other words, we act like a victim.  Hoping to placate our attackers so they won’t hurt us.  Or at least, won’t hurt us as often, maybe.  Or, you know, as bad.  If we just make sure to say the right things, to do the right things, to make sure we make his dinner just like he likes it, and don’t dare talk to him during his football game, because we know how angry he gets when we forget our place.

Me, on the other hand, I’m thinking it’s time for a little “Burning Bed” action instead.

The always engaging Sobek has a brilliant post up over at Innocent Bystanders that pretty much says it all.  Highly recommended reading!

I’ve found that there is so much going on in the world today, about which my own loud-mouth self will simply not shut up, and spamming my Facebook friends and relatives with partisan hooey may not always be the best course of action.

So.

While I cannot guarantee how often I will be able to post anything, given the hurricane of activity my life is, and the festering pile of steaming excrement it may become shortly, I am going to fire this thing back up.

Hopefully I can regain a few of the readers I have so callously shunned over the last however the hell long it’s been; but regardless, there’s just too much angsty froth boiling up within me, and I’ve just gots to gives it some release.

So, there ya go. For what it’s worth.

Scientist: Dinosaurs May Rule Alien Worlds

The Register relates another paper published in the Cornell Earth and Planetary Astrophysics Journal that the Yucatan strike shot out meteors laden with bits of dinosaur DNA which in turn found root on other planets, eventually evolving into dinosaur-like life forms.

Riiiiight.  It’s kind of funny to see “Scientists” and “Dinosaurs Rule Alien Worlds” in the same headline.  Well, not if I was reading Weekly World News.

So basically, this stuff got ejected fast enough to reach escape velocity and leave the atmosphere, then survived millions of miles of interstellar travel through absolute zero and unshielded stellar radiation, survived re-entry and impact into primoridial goo, then…POOF…began to spontaneously replicate, combine, reproduce, and eventually increase in complexity until…DINOSAUR SCIENTISTS!

Because creationism is just soooo unscientific it can’t even be considered by “legitimate” scientists.  Not even dinosaur scientists.

Seriously, though.  If life is spawned on other planets because of meteors laden with all sorts of juicy and frisky amino acids and dinosaur DNA being launched into space because of the impact of other meteors…where’d the first impact come from?  This theory, like so many others, continues to skirt the issue of initial causality.  Sure, it “explains” how the aminos, microbes, whatever got HERE…but it only forestalls the important question of where did the ORIGINAL SEED MATERIAL come from?  It doesn’t answer The Question, it merely asks the question differently.

Michelle’s ski trip marks 16 Obama vacations (costing millions of dollars)

You know, I think we’re all grown-ups here, and I don’t think any of us begrudge the leader of the free world and his family a little time off now and then.  I’m even willing to suggest that, despite our rough-n-tumble anti-aristocratic roots, we are more than willing to allow the Commander In Chief to engage in a certain amount of pomp and ceremony as part of the Presidential milieu.

The problem comes when you have a man so completely devoted to fomenting class warfare, so completely dedicated to painting the current socio-political/economic environment as a case of “Us v. Them”, clearly painting himself with an “Us” colored brush, who then turns around and flagrantly engages in such oppulent self-indulgence.  There’s taking some well-deserved time off (time which fewer and fewer of us can afford to take these days), and then there’s soaking the US Taxpayer for millions of dollars to support your whimsical flights of fancy for you and 24 of your family and friends on a junket to Rio, or Hawaii, or Indonesia or Vail or…shall I continue?

You can’t point to G.W. Bush and say, “Yes, but HE did it too, and worse!” if you ran on a platform of being everything Bush wasn’t, and not being everything he WAS.  If Obama made his case to the American people as being their advocate, by promising to “Change” all the selfish, destructive and wastefully expensive things G.W. is supposed to have done, then HOW does B.O. justify the lavish, jet-setting lifestyle he and his family are maintaining?

He doesn’t justify it.  Because he doesn’t think he needs to.  He thinks he’s entitled to it because he’s the President, and the “Magical Negro” who can be both the voice of the downtrodden minority AND the darling of the gilded Hollywood millionaires, all with no appearance of contradiction or cognitive dissonance.  Why? Just because, that’s why.  And don’t ask me again. Hater.

There is a strange sort of fugue or delirium which seems to have dropped across the eyes of so many of America’s voters, who seem fundamentally unable to ascribe anything but the noblest of intentions to Mr. Obama, forgiving any misstep or mistake, chuckling with a smirkish disregard and a dismissive, “Oh that silly thing?  Pshaa.  He gave us Health Care, didn’t he?!”  This guy is more President Teflon than Bill Clinton was.

Even as we head into the meat of the 2012 election season, there is almost no talk of any Democrat trying to run against him.  He’s the presumptive nominee, who apparently still enjoys the annointing  of the media and political elites who can envision nothing more ideal than four more years of his regal beneficence and royal patronage.  Despite all the actual evidence of policies and conduct bordering on malfeasance, Obama still seems surrounded by this glimmering shield which protects him from any criticism, stigma, or potential responsibility for the calamaties he is surely bringing about. 

Pres. Obama is quoted as saying, “I think at some point, you’ve made enough money.”  Well perhaps, Mr. President, we should amend this to say, “I think at some point, you’ve gone on enough vacations.”

Or, you know, fundraisers sandwiched conviently between a couple of meet-and-greets so that he can justify using taxpayer funds to support his campaining, in likely violation of campaign finance laws. 

But hey.  It’s good to be King.