Columnist.
Call it *The Naked Leftist, Part Deux,* the "Deux" standing for leftist farcicalities that exploded across the land during the second week of the Trump administration after its announcement of a vetting policy that was several measures less draconian than the ones enacted by the Carter and Clinton administrations. The first week was bad enough — a tempest of marches, protests, boycotts, a threat to burn the White House, Brobdingnagian displays of female genitalia swaggering on city streets, and the usual monotonous references to Hitler, apparently detected by some part of the female anatomy that doesn't have to be censored to be cited.
The news could not have been worse. Starvation, malnutrition, diseases such as typhoid, smallpox, dysentery, and pneumonia, along with freezing temperatures that assaulted thousands of shoeless feet bloodying the snow, attached to bands of "walking skeletons" exposed to the elements by threadbare garments. They all combined to claim 2,500 lives from General George Washington's army of 12,000 Continentals, who struggled through their encampment at Valley Forge during the 1777-78 winter. One bitter soldier wrote, "Poor food — hard lodging — cold weather — fatigue — nasty cloaths — nasty cookery — vomit half my time — smoak'd out of my senses — the devil's in it — I can't endure it — Why are we sent here to starve and freeze…?"
One of the most portentous constitutional developments over the past several generations is the extent to which Congress has surrendered its responsibilities to the other two branches of government. Indeed, too many policies have been imposed by political aristocrats in the judiciary and bureaucracy without even a pretense of accountability to the people. Thus, when ordinary citizens are confronted with dictates that reconfigure industries, attack religious beliefs, impose hiring quotas, require trans-gender bathrooms, or justify mob actions instigated by over-privileged brats, they have every right to exclaim: "When did we ever consent to *that*?"
Any casual observer whose views had not been warped by a half-century of media puffery might look upon the two Democratic front-runners with a combination of astonishment and fright. Naturally, the first question that leaps from one's mind is, how did a wispy-haired fossil straight from Marx Brothers' central casting, spouting socialist shibboleths at a grammar school level ever make it so far in American politics? This obviously leads to the next question about his competition, a cackling political shrew who smiles with "one hundred percent certainty" that her running as the country's first unindicted felon will not be interrupted by something as inconvenient as an FBI investigation. Who set this all up, for crying out loud? The public relations adjunct to that famous law firm, Dewey, Cheatum & Howe? With due apologies to Larry, Moe, and Curly — very intelligent and talented men, by the way — the question remains, how did this all come about?
When Christmas arrived at our household, a time of great joy and celebration, of course, all thoughts of politics, culture and the frequent nastiness of things in general were put aside. Naturally, this was an occasion to immerse oneself into a sugar-plums-dancing-in-your-ears, Jack-Frost-roasting-on-an-open-fire, Hillary-free day, to be enjoyed by everyone in our family, ranging in age from seven months to seven decades or so. Christmas music hummed in the background, red and green lights twinkled everywhere, peels of laughter and mirth rippled through the air, a ninety-pound black Labrador imitated a lap dog, trying out one lap after another — things didn't get better than that. Until, that is, the first present was opened, in this case, by one of the grandchildren.
One of the most enduring symbols of the Christmas season is a pine tree festooned with sparkling ornaments, adorned with crystalline splashes of snow, and circled with twinkling lights. Now picture this tree with a swastika on top where an angel should be perched, and you've transformed it into one of the most horrific artifacts of the modern world — the Nazis' attempt to co-opt a tradition in order to advertise a loathsome political program. Although it took a global alliance to defeat Hitler's armies on the battlefield, the ideology that enthralled Germany for a dozen years refused to be crushed. Indeed, the miasma of National Socialism continues to live and has crept into the cultural fiber of most Western nations, especially the United States.
In "The Myth of Sisyphus," Albert Camus's exploration of the role of suicide in the modern world, the philosopher of the Absurd states, "That universal reason, practical or ethical, that determinism, those categories that explain everything are enough to make a decent man laugh." Camus was making reference to philosophical giants of western civilization whose task was to justify a universe seemingly indifferent to humanity's yearning for meaning. All of which Camus dismissed with a rhetorical flip of his hand and a whiff of disdain; he believed magisterial cathedrals of thought were irrelevant to enlightening individuals' souls about the most important thing in their lives. Quite the contrary, their hubris induces mirth, as his cold analysis in "Sisyphus" made clear.
First, let us dispense with all that blather about how many millions of Muslims are "peace-loving" and that Americans should not blame all of Islam for the barbarisms perpetrated by a few of its believers. Certainly one can argue that most Germans during the world wars were peace loving, along with most Russians during the Cold War, most Vandals in the middle of the fifth century, most Aztecs when they ruled in present day Mexico, most Assyrians when they were besieging their enemies, most Japanese when their empire was running rampant throughout Asia — the list goes on. Probably you can throw in any other group that comes to mind, because it can still be maintained they all wanted peace. But only on their own terms.
The recrudescence of college radicalism over recent weeks has been highlighted by stunningly craven responses by college administrators and presidents, bringing into bold relief the suicidal impulses of America's supposed academic elite. However, let us imagine, as a thought experiment, what might happen if a new college president with a different set of priorities was vaulted into office, say, an interim-president charged with the task of dealing with contumacious crowds bent on taking over the university. As a public service, I offer the following comments for this individual's first address to fellow administrators, faculty, and students.
Amidst a plethora of sensational news reports elbowing each other to seize first place in America's national consciousness, there is a story that has lurked beneath media radar that teaches us much more about the status of our country than school shootings, Russian bombings in Syria, Iranian perfidy, Hillary Clinton's makeover attempts, and Republican candidates' daily presidential gymnastics.
The raucous welcomes and thundering applause that have greeted America's newest (and oldest) political rock star, the septuagenarian Bernie Sanders, have launched a cottage industry of puzzled pundits trying to figure out the source of his appeal. Of course it's his ideas, his supporters have insisted, perhaps as well as his presentation style, which issues from an agreeable set of features topped by undisciplined strands of white hair, giving him a sort of aged, professorial look of a speaker waving his arms while hurling his points across the lectern before the class ends.
