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A threat to our democracy It is silly season again! That time of year when we are bombarded with signs and dishonest ads from politicians and their teams. I was listening to the news on the radio yesterday and believe it or not, one of the concerns of New Yorkers was “the threat to our democracy” (Oh my God) ! This got me thinking; (rhut-roh) Am I a threat to our democracy? Give me a chance to unpack that. The people who are using this refrain, basically are telling the truth; at least according to their definition of democracy and their desire to implement one.
The founding fathers of this nation and the framers of the constitution, created it, specifically to PREVENT DEMOCRACY. These were not stupid men and they had studied ancient civilizations and why they failed. As Benjamin Franklin quipped, “Democracy is two wolves and a sheep, voting on what to have for dinner”. He and others worked diligently to create a representative republic, and they had some serious concerns about our ability to keep it. Think of the French Revolution and the heads that rolled under the mob rule of democracy. Since the early 1900’s progressives have been chipping away at our constitution and our freedoms. These people brought us the seventeenth amendment which undermined federalism. Now a Senator is nothing more than a super congressman with little or no allegiance to the people of their respective states. They are responsible for nearly every stupid idea and program that has weakened our country. Now they are aggressively trying to end the electoral college in order to install this democracy. Remember, in their ideal democracy the individual is subservient to the group in power. In their view the state will have say over the parent when deciding on the proper raising of children. Remember, that under the emergency executive orders handed down by these champions of democracy, individual rights were violated by all knowing bureaucrats. Don’t forget how many lives and businesses were destroyed by these oh so virtuous people. In their democracy, some groups are treated differently than others. Do I need to remind anyone that some are still political prisoners, being denied the basic care that is even afforded to terrorists in Gitmo, while those who trashed and burned major areas of our cities are still walking the streets? Is that not their democracy? Are not sanctuary cities and the un-equal processing of criminals and evasion of law, responsible for the crime wave in many of our cities? Is that the democracy that is so threatened? Is the censorship of ideas that has metastasized its tentacles into our tech media and our so-called defenders of the truth something that we, as Americans, would ever expect to have to deal with before this new found democracy? Did any of us ever imagine a time when one could lose their job or their livelihood for having a different opinion? I could go on, but I am sure most of you get the point Our country was founded on the principle of individual rights. All the proponents of this “democracy” have turned that on its head. They are A THREAT TO OUR REPUBLIC. This really isn’t a partisan issue for most of us. Regardless of party affiliation, ask yourself; do you really want to live in their ideal democracy? I don’t. So, do I think of my self as a threat to their democracy? You bet your ass I do. Be a threat to their democracy; It’s the American thing to do.
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50 year reunion:
A friend just posted her memories of high school and her feelings after 50 years. You can read her blog here: https://l.facebook.com/l.php?u=https%3A%2F%2Fwowimawidownow.blogspot.com%2F2022%2F10%2Fi-wanna-run-through-halls-of-my-high.html%3Fm%3D1%26fbclid%3DIwAR0IpPtZjcnBQOoyjA5ccpsI4L_AjNnLHqK_N8_u6K0lgBzl51wofHaGfPs&h=AT30GJUkGJilYvq5WttYOQ2baFCH8aqxKPnuTHqCOXxeyJ-uwHWzVqpEJb4IOKBemd3AN3i_p6gEvnsMCTTUVl9dLn8k1pYf4Eq4wjHMfXryq5oLWPlUG6Z1pZ3h_dzzAuj_&__tn__=H-R&c[0]=AT3erR-cXCBCuniBAXeJTkbjO-ibu-yYkJ3CffvW3Bj7WaftXQTKGnb7-Zlb2oNZUvdkdDzGRsAZJvM49RlDiMlQA0dfJ2avD0WZmFUTru5yjzVGHp3ktkszDFbEDWbSVH_3emyqXFKbRaegSTu45msPLCM. I loved her story and commented on it. In a reply, she asked if I might provide a guy’s perspective, so here goes: Before I get started, I liked that my friend Barbara included a song reference. At Seventeen is indeed one of the saddest songs ever written. I suppose a lot of young girls, then and now empathized with the song and shed many a tear listening to it. My songs might be “schools out” or “Bobby McGee”, especially the line, “freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose” as those days were at times troubling, but I digress. These are my thoughts and memories and I suppose that most others will have a different view. I really can’t speak for guys as we are not one thing but I will tell you this, I was not in love with being in school and could not wait to get out. It was just something I had come to expect to have to participate in, whether I liked it or not, like having to go to church on Sunday, which I viewed as another form of temporary imprisonment. By the time I was in high school being my own worst enemy was something of an acquired talent. Being that my options at the time were limited, I tried to make the best of it. I remember that many of my classmates were quiet and studious; doing their homework (at home, after school) attending class every day, joining clubs and such, and I completely understand if some of them didn’t feel a common bond with the likes of me. I had red hair and really terrible acne; my face was usually is some state of volcanic eruption, but I guess that my size and sense of humor and the fact that I really didn’t give a f--k kept me from being a target most of the time. I remember most classmates as being nice. In the time leading up to our reunion I would often take out our yearbook and read some of the things people wrote in it. I shared a few and didn’t share the ones that might embarrass the writer. Apparently, I was nuts or crazy or something. I don’t remember being crazy, rebellious possibly, but it’s a perspective thing. As much as I hated being told what to do and when to do it, I loved many of my fellow classmates, and I feel a strong bond with a few of them despite the years. Even at such a young age I was reluctant to belong to any click. I had made friends from nearly every quarter of the school, and if some didn’t like that I really didn’t care. Some of the most unlikely friendships are the ones I remember most fondly, and seeing that they have thrived over the years is especially gratifying. I enjoyed every single conversation and every person that I met during the evening. One of the most beautiful things about the reunion and the connection though social media, is that I got to know better and understand many of the people that I really had little engagement with in school. The girls (yes it was the girls) who put together our reunion were incredible. I really don’t know how they tracked us down, especially the married girls. They also set up a memorial table that had the pictures of lost classmates and there were far too many of them, a couple in particular, that I was very close to when we were young. 50 years is a long time and it has taken a toll on most of us, we all spent a good deal of time looking at our name tags and trying to remember the person wearing it. Most of my conversations were about family and grandchildren, and some were about interests but I don’t remember asking or talking about work or careers, save for a couple of times where it could not be avoided. All in all, we held up pretty well and have made our own way in life. A fifty year catch up cannot be accomplished in one evening. Our class had made a commitment to have another get together next year and I will be looking forward to that and also to getting to know some of the people I did not get time to speak with at the reunion, though our Facebook page. We are blessed. PS if I send you a friend request, say yes. You can always unfriend me later. A short mostly true story:
Mama was worried, she knew that sooner or later Little Tony would make a move. He had given her more than her fair share of sleepless nights and she had had enough pain but still she wanted him to be free. Tony’s dad ran a joint called Tony Ravioli’s, where friends could meet for a cold beer after work or on weekends and watch the fights and other sporting events. Programs like Oprah and the View were strictly taboo. Here, local friends could play pool or watch the games from the infamous “couch swing”, with a little side action not out of the question. If little Tony was anything like his dad, everyone knew that once his mind was set on something, there was no stopping him that is what had him worried. Little Tony’s sister Emma was wondering when little Tony was going to get out but she had no idea of her younger brothers plans. Late one night around 2:00 AM Little Tony’s mom, Pamela had a feeling that he was going to make a break for it. This was serious, Big Tony got them into the Tahoe and raced to the scene, running red lights and speeding at 90 miles an hour. Big Tony jumped out or the car and started banging on the door trying to get the attention of the guard posted there. The doors were locked and the guard was in no hurry to answer, as he sauntered over, the elder Tony blasted him with every swear word in his voluminous vocabulary. But it was almost too late, As Big Tony dealt with the guard, Little Tony made his move, busting out and landing on the ground right between his mother’s legs, umbilical cord still attached. Big Tony thought that he was watching an episode of National Geographic. Once the doors were opened and help was dispatched mom and the baby were brought into the hospital and ushered to labor and delivery where a mid-wife and a Doula (no man worth his salt knows what that is) were waiting, but alas it was too late as Little Tony had already made his escape. Update: mom and the baby are doing fine and Alex, AKA Tony Ravioli and Pam have given us our latest grandchild; Anthony James Fitzmaurice. This is from one of our trips last year in the airport:
Tis a funny bird, the North American Spotstander. It is a rather non- descript one that is easier to identify by its behavior rather than appearance. In appearance it is usually drab and oddly enough, the male is often similar in coloration to the female. Robin and I spotted a couple at the airport the other day and were quite amused by their antics. The male was of the mask wearing variety and the female was a double masker. They are not predators and it shows in the way they walk. They avoid danger at any cost it seems, but when pushed into a situation where they believe danger is eminent, they resort to the learned behavior that has been instilled in them. It seems that this bird is somewhat reluctant to fly and prefers to shuffle along, stopping at the spots that are clearly marked on the floor, as if that will help them. Usually, this type of learned behavior takes generations to evolve, but for some it has happened seemingly overnight. Hopefully most of the other birds prefer their freedom to fly and live as they wish. God help us. Yours truly, A hairy chested nutscratcher A child falls and scrapes his knee. (OMG! he used a gender specific pronoun again). One of the first things the child will do, after he realizes that he is hurt and starts to cry, is to look for help, most likely in the form of his mother. There is a lesson here. If mommy isn’t there at the time, who would he go to for help? Perhaps his father or an older sibling. But, if they are not around either, then it may be a baby sitter, or teacher or close friend, and if that isn’t an option then maybe there is a neighbor or local Police officer willing to help.
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AuthorThe creative mind is one that is hard to control. The blog section of this website may have many different types of opinions. Archives
December 2023
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