Birthdays, MIA Friends and Merle is Cured of R.W. & B. Fever
I began another year this month. Even though all my life I have made fun of people who refuse to tell their current age, I find myself factitiously telling others these days, “Now I am a dyslectic forty seven.” Of course, by utilizing that sort of “new math,” that means that in only another twelve months, I will age a whole decade to fifty-seven. Let’s see you figure that one out. It’s not nearly as difficult as that ridiculous adding/subtraction foolishness they are teaching in government schools today.
Seriously, I have long believed that it is not the number of trips taken around the calendar that bothers older people, but rather what they failed to do on the way; and that ain’t me.
It’s easy to get reminiscent as we become what the world determines to be “older.” Everyone certainly must. But the truth is, we are not so much older than the dumbed-down youth behind us, and they will find that out much sooner than they can imagine right now; but we are somewhat smarter – almost invariably by any and every comparison we can think of, with the likely exception being that of operating, programming and figuring out this new hi-tech equipment that they all carry around as commonly as we once did pocket knives and pennies for a gum machine. Of course, we need to realize that throughout every replacement generation in history, nothing has changed: the oldsters have always wondered why the youngsters were not gaining benefit from their past mistakes. Never did, never will.
When a so-called Smart Phone is accidentally dropped in the lake, it’s only a few bucks for another one, but when an old man dies, a whole library is lost; .
Unlike the zombies that died years ago but are still walking around, I am really alive and going strong. My prayer for me for the last half of my life has been, “Lord, don’t let my brain die while my heart still pumps;” and I wasn’t talking about Alzheimer’s.
From a personal perspective, I think I miss those still walking around more than the ones that actually went to a premature grave. How do you even converse with someone that never heard of the New World Order or Agenda 21 or 9/11 Truth or false flags or the Protocols and is still suffering from the “Red, White & Blue Fever?” How many friends do you have who don’t know or just don’t care? How many opinions are molded by public opinion or surveys? What does this all-too-common new phrase “surveys show” blah-blah prove, anyway? My survey of one (me) shows that any survey can be as bogus as its creator wants it to be.
(One quotable writer said recently, “Most high school seniors probably think Columbus and Long John Silver sailed the Mayflower up the Hudson to help General Custer kill a lot of Chinese railroad workers and keep women from exercising their right to choose. . . We don’t teach American history any more. We teach multiculturalism – history filtered through a racial or ethnic lens designed not to educate but to enhance group identity and self-esteem, or advance the left’s agenda.”)
It’s hard to deny just how poorly Chicago’s public schools are performing when it hits you in the face. Such is the case with Paul Robeson High School’s 2014 prom theme: “This is Are Story.”
Hmmm. We can see what he means. Must not teach no readin’ & ‘ritin’ neither —
And suddenly, here I am: launching into the final lap of completing three-quarters of a century on this planet. I am happy that I was lucky enough to have been born into a loving Christian family during what was certainly the greatest time in history to have been alive – especially in America. But I regret to report that I do not live in the same nation anymore that made it that way. No, I didn’t leave the great USA, it left me.
My barnstorming days with my guitar were over before country singer Merle Haggard got off parole and had hit the trail to Nashville to do his thing following his prison stretch, so we never met. My loss. Didja’ know that inmate Merle was in the audience at San Quinton when Johnny Cash recorded his famous first album there in the fifties? Yup, Haggard was a rebellious Bakersfield ruffian as a youth that turned his life around after he got out; and he credits Cash with supplying some of his inspiration.
Oldsters will remember Haggard’s hit “Mama Tried.” (“I turned 21 in prison doing life without parole, but Mama tried, Mama tried…”) Of course, Merle Haggard was not doing life without parole as a teen, but he had been a bad boy and actually did pass his 21st birthday inside the walls before being released on parole at 23.
I bring this memory up now because Merle Haggard wrote and sang during the Vietnam conflict some of the most emotionally and heart-stirring patriotic country hits ever. During those war protest days of the era, Merle sang about America, “. . . and if you can’t love it, leave it . . . ’cause if you’re tearing down our country, Hoss, you’re walkin’ on the fightin’ side of me.” And anyone that ever heard it will never forget that classic “Okie from Muscogee” boy that only wanted to wave his flag, drink his white lightnin’ and be left alone to be free. This pledge of allegiance by Haggard was not far from being the country music equal to Kate Smith’s “God Bless America” of a generation earlier.
Well, well, well, you would never guess what even Merle Haggard, now at age 77, has begun to realize. Recently he was quoted as saying, “In 1960, when I came out of prison as an ex-convict, I had more freedom under parolee supervision than there’s available to an average citizen in America right now.”
What? Wow! Was that really you, Merle? Is that true? Well then, just what has been going on when we weren’t looking? And what about all the Lil’ George Bush-worshipping dolts that keep chirping about how great it is to live in a free country?
Maybe it’s time Merle Haggard wrote and sang one more just a little more accurate for the current generation before his final curtain.
And now political correctness has taken a further turn to the left. Not only can a man no longer speak his mind in his own home without fear of it being secretly recorded, played to the world and destroying his business reputation forever, but now fifty (Yes, FIFTY!) sitting morons in the U.S. Senate have nothing better to do than to petition Washington Redskins NFL franchise owner Dan Snyder to change the name of his team because “Redskins” is “racially offensive.”
(In the late 90s, Clinton insider Linda Tripp found herself indicted by a Maryland grand jury for tape recording a telephone conversation with Monica Lewinsky without her knowledge. Maryland is a state that requires both parties of a recorded telephone conversation to be aware of the activity at the time. Is there no statute anywhere proclaiming the same living room or bedroom protection?)
Certainly the Kansas City Chiefs, Atlanta Braves and the Cleveland Indians will have to be the next to go. How about the Cincinnati Reds? Has this government become so communistic these days that such a repulsive identification is now politically acceptable? How did the Reds survive the Cold War in Cincinnati anyway? According to this thinking, they should have been long gone with Senator McCarthy. Yeah, right. Instead they compromised by banning Pete Rose from the Hall of Fame. (And if that doesn’t make perfect sense to you, you just don’t understand this new logic.)
If you have never read The Protocols of the Learned Elders of Zion, you should. It is the century-old script of a live performance going on right before our eyes every day. Oh, please don’t barf up to me that same tired recitation with which somebody whose name you can’t even remember programmed you to say – that old retort of “Oh, that’s anti-Semitic.”
How do you know that?
I know I don’t know that because I can’t even remember offhand what author’s name is on cover of the @#$% Protocols. But did he really write it? It might have been whoever they said it was or it might have been Teddy Roosevelt or Ty Cobb or Joe Schmoe from Kokomo. I do remember that it definitely was not Henry Ford. Besides that, you really don’t know either, and I don’t care if it was Amos ‘n Andy. The point is that the plot as written is what’s going on right now – and it ain’t Bible prophecy. (Well, maybe some of it is.) But the script is in full force daily, and about all most Americans can say is, “Duh, did the Yanks win tonight?” or “Who ya’ gonna vote for?” (and that one is not so frivolous at all to those Fox News addicts that never heard of electronic vote fraud.)
So with what is going on behind the curtain, is it really important whether it was Charles Ponzi or the Jesuits that wrote The Protocols and blamed it on the Zionist Pharisees? Personally, I don’t care. I do believe a century later that it just may be the most illuminating glimpse of history and immediate future we will ever see in this lifetime. Exactly who laid out these plans a century ago is not nearly as important today as would be stopping the obvious progress.
All these glaring results have been accomplished with the artificial insemination of legal tender, thereby leading to the corruption of controlled politicians, election fraud, false flags, a beholden news media, etc., etc.; and, of course currently, the appointment of the greatest national tragedy to befall us: Barry Soetoro. So, yes, the beloved USA has left me — left me with gutless preachers, porn, earthquakes, wars and rumors of wars, perverts and a degenerate culture without a rule book. Satan has regained his home field advantage late in the game, just as predicted.
But B.S. (how appropriate) is only an eight-year symptom. He’ll be gone soon. British Prime Minister Benjamin Disraeli said two centuries ago, “The world is governed by very different personages from what is imagined by those who are not behind the scenes.” The difference today may be that the secret is not so concealed anymore. For all those still blinded, “It’s called the American Dream,” said George Carlin, “because you have to be asleep to believe it.”.
Turn off the artificial money and you turn off Satan’s strongest weapon.
I don’t have the power to do that, but I’d rather be right than president.