Thursday, December 4, 2014

HEAD GAMES

     A telltale sign of a failing culture is an inability to shock people.  In a post-9/11 world, so many of us have seen in Hi-def, what previous generations could have never imagined.  Our minds are jammed with sounds and images piped-in from any number of electronic devices at nearly every waking moment of our lives.  On one hand, society has more opportunities to educate itself than ever before thanks to digital media.  On the other, as we become more attached to and dependent on electronic communication, our ability to relate to each other on a human level seems to be questionable at best.
     Is it any wonder that today, when a "death cult" posts their latest beheading of another human being onto the web, the masses react with about as much anger and disdain as when their team doesn't make the playoffs?  Now that we have a self-imposed blurring of the lines between real life, and "reality TV",  we enjoy a comfortable buffer from things that should shock and horrify us to action.
     For a writer, such "action" could be to remind people of the horrors of which I speak.  Beheading has been around for about as long as recorded history can tell us.  It is the preferred method of execution of "infidels" by Muslims as prescribed by their "faith".  Although, explosives, stoning, fire, acid, wood chippers, and pavement rollers are also acceptable ways for Muslims to demonstrate how secure they are in their "faith"as well.  But, today we're going to focus strictly on beheading.
     If there is anything left of it after years of video games and hip-hop music, I will need you to use your imagination...briefly.      Imagine being held captive, while knowing that your fate is to have your head removed by a man wielding a large steel sword.  Fast-forwarding past the time that you have to contemplate how this situation came to be, and the time you have to realize that you will never see your family again, we'll just get right to it.
     For the sake of time, let's assume that your executioner's implement is razor sharp and he has the skills needed to do the job with one swift blow.  Keeping also in mind though that neither of these are a priority.  "Misses" are common, and occasionally intentional.  Sawing and gauging motions are also a typical technique.
     Regardless of your executioner's personal beheading style, the real horror comes after the physical trauma you experience as your head separates from your body. I have read that the human head can live for as much as six minutes after being detached from the body.  
     Six minutes stuck in an elevator.  Six minutes waiting for a Quarter Pounder.  Six minutes stuck at a construction zone.  A six minute lecture from your spouse.  All are unpleasant.  But imagine spending six minutes - your last six minutes - watching your body thrash and twitch reflexively as the blood gushes from the hole where your head once was.
     Try to imagine the thoughts that might race through your mind as you try to scream, but can't...because your lungs are no longer there to push air across your now-severed vocal cords.  Your brain tries desperately to signal your arms, legs, or anything to react with some sort of defensive motion...but there's nothing.  The connection is gone.  For all it's pluses and minuses, what was once your body, is now being violently beaten with sticks and rocks as you can do nothing but watch...and think.  For six minutes.
     But don't worry my fellow infidel, this is probably not your fate...probably.  Hey, what's on TV tonight?     
      
                   
             

Friday, April 4, 2014

FORT HOOD II

     There comes a time when reasonable adults step back from a given situation and assess their options.  As Americans, that time is now.  It's high time we step back and ask some tough questions.  The first being; Is it time to disband the military?  Before you assume that my prolonged absence from the blog-o-sphere has resulted in some sort of de-programming by the left, I ask that you hear me out.
     One of the hallmarks of a true conservative is a sense of pragmatism.  This goes along with our use of logic, reason, and common sense when approaching an issue.  This is also what sets us apart from the left.  That, and pants that actually fit.
     After the most recent Fort Hood shooting, I find myself questioning the logic of having a military force at all.  Think about it.  We take a fellow citizen who was gracious enough to volunteer his/her very life for the sake of others, and our government doesn't even have the decency to develop a proper way to use them.  
     We spend countless amounts of tax payer dollars to teach them how to destroy an enemy, and then we send them into a war zone with a sea-bag full of rules and regulations that prevent them from even insulting an enemy.  Of coarse the enemy sees this and exploits it to their advantage, resulting in more flag-draped coffins landing at Dover AFB.
     We elect people to positions of power who probably can't even pronounce the word victory, and go on to the further extreme of helping our enemies build their dream nation.  So our troops get to see the Muslim Brotherhood gain an entire hemisphere on one side, while watching their brothers and sisters die on the other...both sanctioned and facilitated by their own President. 
     We train them (at great expense) in the proficient use of firearms, award them pins and medals for it, and then deny them the right to carry those firearms on the same soil that they are willing to die for to protect.  This way, they can't defend themselves from "active shooters" while coming out of the PX with a quart of milk and loaf of bread.
     We lower the bar for the training process in order to be more "inclusive" and to accommodate some misguided diversity experiment, and then act surprised when some of the test subjects crack under the pressure of war.  In the old days, the weak were weeded-out in order to maintain the integrity of the whole force.  Today they are welcomed with open arms, as if the U.S. military is supposed to be some sort of halfway house for emotional pansies.
     We throw them into the meat grinder of combat and then berate them when the war doesn't poll well.       
     We subject them to this insanity, and when they finally do go insane, we throw psychotropic drugs at them and tell them to get in touch with their feelings.  By the time our government-issued therapists realize that the drugs aren't working...the bullets are already coming out of the barrel.
     It seems to me that it would almost be more humane to simply dissolve the military and let the chips fall where they may.  After all, if we're not willing to build, maintain, and use the military for it's logical intended purpose, then what's the point of having it at all?  Why put these men and women through the indignity of such vague, nebulous, and convoluted service to a nation where 50% of it's citizens have no understanding of liberty anyway?
     It's time we turn our military bases into homeless shelters and marijuana farms.  Then we can paint the Army tanks yellow and use them as school buses for Democrat-run inner cities.  Finally, we can hire the former service members to teach the civilian population how to stand in line, take orders, and eat rationed food.  We'll need to know how to do those things when Putin shows up.       
     
        





      

Tuesday, April 23, 2013

GALT'S GULCH OR BUST

     Being a man of few ambitions, my "bucket list" is really not that long.  Worse yet, it's not that exciting either.  While some have managed to cross sky diving or swimming with sharks off their bucket list, I recently managed to cross reading "Atlas Shrugged" off mine.  I know it's not exactly alligator wrestling, but at 1069 pages, it's a personal achievement none-the-less.
     Let's be honest, it's length and less-than-satisfying ending make this book a challenge to read, and a risk to recommend to just any reader.  That is not to say that Ayn Rand didn't hit the nail on the head in her attempt to illustrate how the real world works.  She did.
     As I started to read the book, it didn't take me long to notice the spooky parallels between things happening in Rand's fictional story line, and things actually happening in real life today.  But it's not the similarities between the clash of human nature vs. public policy in the book, and pretty much everything I see in the news right now that gives me "the willies", it's the fact that this book was written in 1957!
     Did Ayn Rand have a crystal ball, a sixth sense, or just a wicked talent for deduction?  Who knows?    
     The premise of the book is to simply ask what would happen if the people who "make the wheels go-round" simply decided to quit working and drop out of society.  After years of excessive regulation, excessive taxation, intrusive government interference, and the media slandering and misrepresenting them and their purpose to the public day after day, the industrialists, inventors, and producers of the nation decide that they've taken enough abuse.  They pull their resources and go "on strike". 
     The book walks you through step by step the importance of industry to modern man and what happens when the ruling class tries to control the natural instincts of man as applied to the free market.  Rand brilliantly illustrates the linkage between one industry to another and the "domino effect" that happens when "intellectuals" use their power to institute some convoluted brand of "social justice".
     The title refers to the mythological god "Atlas" who's only purpose was to hold the Earth on his shoulders.  So, the metaphor is to ask what happens if Atlas were to simply shrug his shoulders, drop the Earth, and walk away?
     When I hear people rush to blame the "rich" for the ills of the world, I have visions of the people of Earth throwing rocks at Atlas every time something doesn't go their way.  Rather than saying "Hey, Mr. Atlas! Thank's for holding the Earth in place!", he get's to hear "Hey, Mr. Atlas!  You're rich, and I'm not, so that makes you a jerk!"  Just how long should he have to put up with that?  How long would you?
     In the book, "Galt's Gulch" refers to the remote, hidden community built by the producers and industrialist of America to live during their "strike".  Complete with their own power company and monetary system, they live a simple, yet comfortable life based on conservative principals and free market values...totally isolated from the outside world.  As the outside world falls into ruin, the government tries to "fix" each new crisis with a new policy which inevitably spawns multiple new crises.  Like some hellish game of "Wack-a-Mole", each government intervention costs more jobs, money, and lives until society falls into anarchy and chaos.
     It's not likely that there will be a real-life "Galt's Gulch", but if there is, I'll be the guy standing in my front yard with my family yelling "Take us with you!  I'm a worker!  Not a moocher!" 
     

Tuesday, February 26, 2013

TWO CAN PLAY THAT GAME

     A common tactic used by up and coming tyrants and power hungry narcissists is to be surrounded by children during public appearances and use the power of cuteness to sway the masses toward any number of self-destructive policies.  When children are not personally available for use as props or set decor, it's also typical to pull out a letter allegedly written by some dis-advantaged elementary school kid, who was so concerned about the issue-at-hand, that they decided to sit down and write their president a letter about it.  As we all know, the one thing eight year olds love to do is write letters.  I'm also pretty sure that there is no chance that the parents of these children had anything to do with their children's sudden interest in public policy.  And it would surely be crazy talk to even suggest that someone desperate enough to exploit children for political purposes might go as far as to fake a "Dear President" letter...so I won't go there.
    
     In keeping with the idea that what's good for the goose is good for the gander, I decided to adopt this tried and true liberal tactic myself.  So here is a letter to President Obama that may or may not have been written by my daughter.



Dear Mr. President,
     My name is _ _ _ _ _ _ and I am eight years old.  My Daddy says you are trying to destroy our country so you can remake it the way you want to.  My little brother does the same thing when I try to make animals with Play-dough.  That makes me sad.  My Daddy told me that we don't have as much money for ice cream and toys because you are taking more of his money to give to lazy people, and because Daddy's customers have less money to spend at his company for the same reason.  If my Daddy's company doesn't have enough customers, will he lose his job?  That would make me sad, because he said he would take us to the beach this year if we had enough money.  I like to build sand castles.
     Mr. Obama, are you going to take away people's guns?  Our Principal said that a bad man hurt some kids with a gun and we should tell a teacher if we wanted to talk about our feelings.  If a bad man comes to our school, who will help us if my teacher isn't allowed to shoot him?  I would be very sad if my friend Timmy had to go to heaven because there was no way to stop the bad man.  Timmy's birthday is next week, he is having a party.
     My favorite story is "The Little Red Hen".  It is a about animals on a farm that want some bread, but the hen is the only one that will work to make it.  The other animals still think they should have the bread.  My Daddy says that they think they are something called "entitled".  That must mean "lazy".  He says that you really need to read that book.  If you come to our story time, I can read it to you.   
     I hope you get my letter and read it to the world like you do with letters from other kids.  Please stop hurting my Mommy and Daddy.  It makes me sad.
                                                                                                          Your pawn,      
                                                                                                           _ _ _ _ _ _     

Wednesday, January 30, 2013

RAPE SQUADS REJOICE!

     Apparently, chivalry is not only dead, but is was brutally beaten, gang-raped and sexually mutilated on the battlefield before-hand.  But hey, let's not allow a little fly like "reality" to get in our politically correct ointment...right?  Like most progressive ideas, it seems that either no one has taken the time to "workshop" the likely outcomes of allowing women in combat roles in the military, or simply no one cares.  As someone with a mother, wife and daughter, I would like to be put into the "I care" column.  In any case, our "Forward" thinking leaders have decided that they will be forgoing all that messiness of considering the possibility of tragic disaster, and gone ahead and opened the door to females in the theater of combat.  What's the worst that could happen?

     Well...rumor has it, that a certain "religion of peace" has a long history of sanctioned sexual abuse of women.  You might recall the "rape rooms" of one Saddam Hussein.  Is it beyond the realm of possibility that the same folks who traditionally mutilate the genitals of their own civilian female children, might actually consider treating female U.S. troops captured on the battlefield in a less-than-kind manner?  Not as conservatives, or leftists, not as Republicans or Democrats, not as pot-smoking hippies or moonshine-swilling rednecks, but as men, are we ready to have this on our conscience?  When it is one of our wives, mothers, or daughters that come home in a condition that I dare not think about, that's if they are even lucky enough to come home alive to begin with...what will we say to them?  "Gee, sorry we allowed you to be subjected to horrors that you will never heal from, but look how we advanced political correctness!"  "Yeah!"  "You go girl!" 

     Then there are the slightly less tragic, but still just as real consequences of this little sociology experiment gone awry.  Things such as pregnancy, P.M.S., and the since-the-dawn-of-man-but-only-until-last-week problem of the "love triangle" on the battlefield.  Consider this, men and women have been driven by love, lust, and jealousy to do some of the most diabolical and depraved things to others and themselves since Adam first layed eyes on Eve.  The names Van Gogh, OJ Simpson, and Lorena Bobbit come to mind.  But whether you're severing ears, heads, and "wedding tackle", or just innocently infatuated with someone in your platoon, does it strengthen our forces to have drama in the ranks?  It's one thing to have two guys at the office competing for the affection of the receptionist, but what happens if two infantrymen are competing for the same woman in their squad, and one is "supposed" to lay down some cover fire as the other takes the hill?  Accidents happen...right?

     Not that a married man such as myself would know anything about this next question...but.  What happens to a woman's performance in a combat situation on one of those "heavy" days?  I'm just asking!  What happens to a unit's continuity when one of them has to be taken off the field due to pregnancy?  Are there some who would play that card on purpose?  It's probably easier than shooting yourself in the foot like men have to do when they want off the battlefield.  Would an increase in pregnant troops strain medical units who are relied on to treat the wounded?

     And finally, has anyone taken the time to consider the next draft?  How can we possibly think that if there is ever a draft in the future, the same liberals won't be making the same arguments to demand women be included?  After all, if women are to be treated "equally" when they volunteer, then it stands to reason that they will have to be treated "equally" when they don't.  Will we be so ready to sacrifice our mothers, wives, and daughters then?

     Our founding documents have certified that we are all created equal.  The Bible says that we are all equal in the eyes of God.  But nowhere is it written that we are created "identical".  There are differences between the male and female of all species.  This may not be a popular fact, but it's a fact none the less.  And when we try to dismiss, ignore, or deny these differences, we shouldn't be surprised when human nature does not comply with our demands.  When males and females get together, it is a natural likelihood that things will probably happen.  And when marriages are destroyed and lives are lost unnecessarily, all for the sake of checking another box on a list of liberal agenda items, the blood will be on the hands of those who helped make it happen.           

Tuesday, January 22, 2013

THE HARD WAY

     The morning after the election, I went through a range of emotions.  As you can imagine it went something like this; shock, disbelief, fear, anger, and then on to varying degrees of depression.  On the way to work, I even quietly wondered to myself "What's the point of even going?"  For a brief moment I seriously considered turning the truck around, going home, and spending the day playing board games with my kids.  Then I thought, "No, that would make me one of them."  I'm a worker.  I work.  That's what I do.  I'm not ruled by emotions, jumping at every chance to use my feelings as an excuse to get out of doing something less than entertaining.
     With that, I went on to a day of sucking it up, and moving on with my life.  Of coarse, this did not cure my near-crippling depression and nagging sense of impending doom, but I still managed to keep all 18 wheels between the lines without aiming them at the first Prius with an Obama sticker that came into my view.

     For the next three days, I instituted a total media blackout at casa de Roadhouse.  With the exception of non-news oriented shows and channels, I shunned both my TV, and radio.  During my self-imposed exile, it occurred to me that what's happening in our country can be compared to a similar dynamic happening in my own home.
     I have two children, each representing one half of the population.  Despite being part of the same family, and living under the same roof, both have vastly different ways of approaching life...much like our current electorate living in America.
     With one child, I can tell her to not put her toy on the toilet tank because it will probably fall into the bowl.  In most cases, she will examine the likelihood of that, compare it to my warning and put the toy in her room.
     With the other, he will determine that he knows better, ignore my warning, put more toys on the tank, and soon, you can guess who will be fishing for a die-cast John Deere tractor and a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle action figure...PRE-flush.  If you guessed "Roadhouse", you win the prize.
     True, it's not my tractor or action figure, and it's not my feelings of regret, shame, and humiliation after the fact, but it is my hand that gets to go elbow-deep into a pool of unmentionable biology in order to fix the problem. 
     The flaw in my analogy is that my son can fall back on his young age and eagerness to be independent as a reasonable excuse for his short-sightedness.  But for Americans of voting age in this country...not so much.  So, though I am not looking "Forward" to it, I realize that there is little I can actually do about the fact that for at least the next four years, we are all going to be fishing for toys in a of bowl of poo.

 
    

Monday, January 14, 2013

THE NEW BUNKER MENTALITY

     For those who care, there are many reasons I haven't blogged for more than a year.  My family is my priority, and how I spend my free time reflects that.  There's been no personal tragedies in my life, and my schedule hasn't changed that much since my last post.  Truth be told, I've just been tired.  After years of shouting in the wilderness, I had decided my family would be better off if I spent more time getting a good night's sleep, and less time trying to save liberals from themselves.  But the pendulum swings on.
     Looking back at the events of 2012, I can't seem to shake this nagging feeling of guilt that I associate with doing nothing as the neighborhood burns to the ground.  Considering my very limited resources, I opted to ease back into the world of political debate.  Curious to see if I still "got it", I figured I would fire some ideological shots over some metaphorical bows over at www.democraticunderground.com and maybe re-light the furnace here at my little right-wing oasis.  Who would have thought that after only two...yes, TWO comments, they would kick me out of their web site.
     Was I insulting?  No.  Was I making threats of any kind?  No.  In fact, I didn't even have a chance to start a polite debate with anyone there.  Not being one to go quietly into the night, I prepared an E-mail response to the site moderator that was meant to illustrate their lack of confidence in their positions, and challenge them to a debate on their own turf.  As I readied my index finger to click the "send" icon, I suddenly remembered who I was dealing with...liberals.
     I thought back to the countless incidents of liberals going off the deep end around the world over the past few decades.  From UAW workers attacking a disabled T.E.A. Party member, to "occupy" activists crapping on police cars, E.L.F. arsonists, Greek rioters, Sierra Club vandals, and even my own personal experiences with our "tolerant" advocates of peace.  
     I decided that people with skin that thin, and so willing to wall themselves into such an easily challenged ideology may not be reasonable enough to be trusted.  Do I know that they would find my address and "try something"?  No.  But like I said, my family is my first priority...so why risk it?
     Besides, I took their reaction to me as a sign of panic, and verification that I do in-fact still "got it".