Paging Lee Greenwood
One loves America and so do I. Sure, our republic, corrupted by democracy, has become more destructively plutocratic. Sure, the masses are screaming for cradle to grave succor and bastards on demand. Sure, the laws present a Byzantine web of favoritism and purposeful complexity (the better to bury the favors in.) The populace knows little about history and civics.
But so long as the second amendment remains, which is always an iffy proposition, we have hope.
While the professional elite and their stormtroopers meddle from Ivory Tower enclaves, the people ultimately own the nation. The people, the flag-waving “patriotards”, the small-towners, the Rotary club members, the church ladies, the nice kindergarten teachers, the engineers and family physicians, the family men and women in suburbia, the Democrats-on-the-street, and your friendly neighbor – they own the nation. They are the nation. That America undoubtedly exists. And when these perpetually whining, desolate individuals disparage “Amerika” as a failed society, they ultimately reject the good people and the cherished traditions that make up this country.
One slight quibble, One. I don’t care what good the organization does, Rotary lunches are horrible and should be avoided.