The 1960s Live Again
I have long insisted that the decline of America began roughly 50 years ago. That was the decade that saw the liberals take a hacksaw to the black family, as LBJ and thousands of social workers did everything they could to drive black husbands and fathers out of the household. It also saw the advent of the Free Speech movement that started out in Berkeley and culminated in Kent State.
Snapshots of the decade would include the Yippies rioting in the streets of Chicago, the Black Panthers murdering people in Oakland, suburban couples engaged in wife-swapping, and parents all over the country looking to swap places with their children, while extolling the hedonistic life style summed up by the odious phrase “sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll.”
Had it all ended with January 1, 1970, it would have been bad enough. Unfortunately, far too many of the young folks grew up to become the judges, professors, journalists and politicians, who are still causing immeasurable mischief. For good measure, their ignorant grandchildren helped elect Barack Obama in 2008 and will try to get him re-elected in 2012.
One of the most quoted lines from the 60s was uttered by lifelong political activist Jack Weinberg, who along with Abbie Hoffman, Jerry Rubin and Tom Hayden, helped make it such an execrable period: “Don’t trust anyone over 30.” Thanks to those guys and their latter-day equivalents in the Occupy Wall Street movement, it’s fair to suggest that a wiser course of action is to trust nobody under 30 unless they happen to be wearing an Army, Navy or Marine, uniform.
The pain of inflation, the sort brought about by the Federal Reserve running the printing presses 24/7 ever since Obama came along, was brought home to me after watching a couple of old movies recently. Both of which were scripted by Peter Stone. In the 1963 release, “Charade,” four crooks devote nearly 20 years to trying to get their hands on $250,000. Even if you forget about the dough they had to spend tracking their prize all over Europe, you can’t help thinking that if they’d just opened up a garage or a coffee shop, the guys would have made a lot more money. Then, in the 1965 movie, “Mirage,” Gregory Peck goes into an upscale bar in Manhattan and orders a Scotch. “That’ll be 90 cents,” the bartender reminds him when he shows signs of leaving without paying.
This being the holiday season, I found myself thinking about a few of those we annually celebrate. Thanksgiving is an oddity because we wind up eating a lot of stuff that we apparently have absolutely no interest in the other 364 days of the year.
For some stupid reason, we went from honoring our two greatest presidents on two separate days to celebrating President’s Day, a generic term that suggests that along with Washington and Lincoln, we’re also tipping our hat to the likes of Wilson, Carter, Clinton and Obama.
But perhaps the oddest of all is Labor Day, when we pretend to honor hard work by taking the day off to listen to long-winded speeches by the likes of Richard Trumka, Jimmy Hoffa, Jr., and Barack Obama, quite possibly the three laziest men in America.
Speaking of Obama, I realize that back in 2008 he was called The One. Now that we know him so much better, I’m having a hard time deciding on a more appropriate moniker. A few that I’ve considered are Nanny Barack, the Preacher, the Great Pretender, the Scolder-in-Chief and Chairman Obama.
But, here’s hoping that after January, 2013, we’ll be able to simply refer to him as the Dearly Departed.