The Snake Devours Its Own Tail
If anything good ever comes of the peaceful demonstrations, otherwise known as riots, it won’t be the Socialist revolution that the rabble are hoping. It’s what will happen after the revolution when the true rabble rousers, the ones pulling the strings, decide that the fire setters and looters can no longer be trusted to take orders.
If anything good ever comes of the peaceful demonstrations, otherwise known as riots, it won’t be the Socialist revolution that the rabble are hoping. It’s what will happen after the revolution when the true rabble rousers, the ones pulling the strings, decide that the fire setters and looters can no longer be trusted to take orders.
As William F. Jasper recalled in the pages of The New American, dedicated Commie Anarchists Emma Goldman and Alexander Berkman fled for their lives from Russia to Sweden in 1922 when they discovered that their erstwhile comrades planned to kill them, deeming them in Lenin’s words, “useful idiots” who were no longer useful.
Ms. Goldman lamented: “The prisons of Russia, of Ukraine, of Siberia, are filled with men and women — aye, in some cases with mere children — who dare hold views that differ from those of the ruling Communist Party.”
The delightful irony of their situation was that Goldman and Berkman had participated in the persecution of Russian Christians. “It is now the Anarchists who now suffer the most ruthless and systematic persecution. By the use of machine guns and artillery, the Russians liquidated the whole Anarchist organization.”
If things keep on the way they’ve been going in America, the mob of Anarchists setting our cities ablaze could soon go the way of their ilk nearly a century ago. And the sooner, the better.
A reader took me to task, one, for generalizing in a negative way about blacks and, two, for referring to “blacks” instead of to “black people.”
I replied: “Every chance I get, I refer to those who are decent and productive and admirable. And there are many. I would hope so since they number roughly 40 million.
"But I am sick of the nation’s pandering to that group of people 150 years after the end of slavery and half a century since Jim Crow laws were banished.
"You don’t like it when I generalize and, frankly, I’m not too crazy about doing it. But it’s difficult to avoid when 13% of the population commit over 50% of the violent crimes, when over 70% of black babies are born to and raised in the homes of unmarried women, and when, in New York City, a black baby has a better chance of being aborted than of being born.
"On top of that, 90-95% of them will vote for any Democrat on the ballot, and, seemingly, the sleazier, the better.
"If I offend you, I’m sorry. It’s not my intention to offend any of my readers. For what it’s worth, I also generalize about Jews, even though I am one of them. It’s hard not to generalize, though, when 70% of them will also vote for any Democrat, including the likes of Adam Schiff, Jerry Nadler, Chuck Schumer and Dianne Feinstein. And how can I have any respect for them when it comes to politics when of the 38 Jews in Congress, only two are Republicans?
"Blacks are blacks, Jews are Jews, New Yorkers are New Yorkers. I will not write ‘black people’ every time I have a reason to write about them because it’s clumsy and, to my mind, patronizing, because I don’t refer to whites as ‘white people.’ I hope I haven’t further offended you, but if I allowed your sensibilities to dictate what I write or how I write it, I would be censoring myself. And there’s already far too much censoring of Conservatives in America.
"Since I cover a number of topics in each article, perhaps you can just read around the sections in which I write about you-know-who the way I eat around the cooked vegetables on the plate at restaurants and devote my attention to the steak or meatloaf. Regards, Burt.”
I recently had the misfortune of having to deal with problems affecting my computer, as you all know, as well as my TV. That means I had to spend hours trying to reach the folks who answer or, rather, don’t answer the phones in India and Bangladesh.
I can’t tell you how many times I got to hear those soul-shredding words, “Due to the high volume of calls at the present time…” before being told the wait time would be 30 or 40 minutes. I suppose it can be argued that it is always the present time at the present time, so it’s logical that even at 3 a.m., the wait time will be 30 or 40 minutes.
What it tells me about the company is that it is either badly understaffed, even when it comes to underpaid employees in Asia, or that the service is so rotten that even at 3 a.m. they actually are receiving a high volume of calls. Or, the likeliest option, both.
I received a form today letting me know that if I choose to vote by mail, I would be supplied with a ballot in one of the following languages, two of which I had never even heard of: Armenian, Chinese, Farsi, Hindi, Japanese, Khmer, Korean, Russian, Spanish, Tagalog, Thai, Vietnamese, Burmese, Telugu, Gujarati, Indonesian, Mongolian and Bengali. I assume that although it wasn’t mentioned, English will also be offered.
I have no problem with people who speak any of these 18 languages being a next door neighbor. I don’t need to be able to discuss baseball with him. In my case, he’s an Armenian from Constantinople. We’ve lived on friendly terms for 20 years. Which means we smile and wave at each other and, whoever is awake first, brings in the other guy’s trash barrels on Thursdays. I give him and his wife birthday gifts and remember them on Father’s Day, Mother’s Day and Christmas, because my late wife did and I’m sure she’d want me to continue the practice. They give me a bottle of booze on Christmas and Father’s Day, even though I don’t drink. I’m sure they’d give me a bottle on my birthday, but they never asked when it was. But he gives me the Sunday Times so I can do the crossword puzzle.
My point is, his wife doesn’t speak any English at all. He is pretty much limited to words like “hot” and “rainy,” letting me know the weather when we run into each other outside.
I don’t know whether or not he votes, but I hope not. If a person can’t speak or read English, I don’t think he should have the vote. I’m pretty sure he’s a citizen, so I know he pays taxes, but I would prefer it if he could hand his vote over to someone who does know English and knows firsthand that Joe Biden is an idiot who should only be allowed inside the White House as part of a tour group.
And who better than the guy who brings in his trash barrels?
Jim Jordan has shown himself once again to be one of the few members of Congress worth his salt. When Anthony Fauci deigned to appear before the House Judiciary Committee, taking time off from his canonization proceedings, to announce that along with social-distancing and not shaking hands, he would prefer it if people wore goggles, it was Rep. Jordan who made him squirm. He did so by asking why, after stating that people should avoid crowds and pointing out that “the shutdown is inconvenient to the economy, but necessary,” Fauci hadn’t spoken out against the mobs who are not abiding by any of his rules.
The puny response from the puny man was: “But I’m not going to opine about the protests.”
So millions of Americans are losing their jobs, their businesses, their homes and apartments, not to mention their minds, and that’s fine and dandy with the well-tailored gnome. But nary a discouraging word about the vandals because, to his mind, they are doing God’s work. Namely, preventing Donald Trump from being re-elected.
Just because a guy has a “Dr.” in front of his name doesn’t mean he’s one of the good guys.
A few who come to mind are abortionists George Klopfer and Kermit Gosnell, Jack Kevorkian, Josef Mengele and Victor Frankenstein.
After I wrote that I try to do the right thing even though I don’t believe in Heaven, Stephen Hanover let me know that C.S. Lewis once wrote that “Integrity is doing the right thing when no one is watching.”
That, in turn, reminded me of a story about the great golfer Bobby Jones. He was once playing in a tournament and found himself off the freeway and well into the rough. While lining up his shot, he inadvertently moved a twig. When he emerged, he called a two-stroke penalty on himself. But that’s only part of the story. He wound up losing the tournament by a single strike and the media played up the fact that his honesty cost him the victory.
And that’s what upset Jones. Not the loss, but the fact that they made him out to be a hero. For as he said: “Nobody should be congratulated for simply playing by the rules.”
It’s not always easy keeping up with the Joneses. But when it’s a Jones named Bobby, it’s well worth the effort.
