Wow...this is the best Kool-Aid I have EVER had!!

Do any of you really believe what Barack Hussein Obama is dishing out?











Happily enjoying one of my favorite cigars, Michelle Obama's voice on the radio rudely interrupts my latest visit to the Elysian fields. She is remembering the South Side of Chicago 20 years ago, she says. This was of course before The One became the Chitown Shanty Senator, somewhat after his political career started in the living room of admitted terrorist Bill "The Bomber" Ayers and during his infamous relationship with virtual Mafioso Tony Rezko.




Bill
"The Bomber"
Ayers

















Off to a blazing start, he convinced anyone who would listen that they were victims of "whitey" and if elected, he would bring home the cash; which of course he did.




Fast forward to this year, and Michelle is bleating that Bush/McCain (who most leftys now pronounce as one word, somewhat like mother and...well, you know...) will most certainly burn down all black churches and banish the saints to a yet to be named prison island somewhere near the only living cannibals known to exist. UNLESS, of course, her husband is elected Supreme Ruler of the Universe in short order. After all, he is the only reason she has to be proud of America.

Happily, my America is different from hers. There are not nearly so many self-appointed victims in my corner of the world, and each person registers and votes only once each election. ACORN does not recruit dead people or drunks here, and the KKK actually showed up for a rally on the town square several years back (all eight of them) and were promptly laughed out of the county before having a chance to spew their venom. We may be a small burg of rednecks, but we don't suffer fools with twisted agendas for very long; nor would we suffer Obama's brand of hocus-pocus politics for even an instant. I guess we are the types who cling to their guns and religion Barack was referring to and really don't have many visitors from south Chicago, candidates or not. Oh, they would no doubt be welcome, but country folk see through BS pretty quickly, so they wouldn't stay long I suppose. The victim mentality just doesn't get much sympathy here. We do probably have more than our share of third-generation welfare recipients here, but they are merely tolerated, not catered to by vampire politicos promising something for nothing. We refuse to be victims to anything or anyone, real or imagined. We just live nice, slow, small town lives respecting God and his creation, digging substinence out of the good earth He blessed us with, minding our own business while our neighbor minds his, and...well, just generally being good Americans.

We don't much like the kind of Kool-Aid served up by Obama, Nancy Pelosi, Barney Frank, Harry Reid, or any of their ilk. Just a small town in a red flyover state, mostly happy that the planes DON'T land here. Sadly, we may be a dying breed; it seems when we discuss beliefs and ethics and morals and all the other things that REALLY made America great, we are mostly ignored by the powers that be unless they happen to need our vote desparately.

I remember the time Bobby Kennedy visited town; he stood on the exact spot that was later occupied for a short time by the fore-mentioned KKK. How different their messages were...and how the Democratic party Bobby so well served has changed.




Some of my older friends were in a faraway place called Viet Nam. Some had already come home wounded, crippled, shaken by what they had seen and experienced. Some didn't come back at all. Some were yet to depart for that tiny spot on the map that most of us couldn't even find on the big school globe. We didn't drink Lyndon Johnson's Kool-Aid either, nor Nixon's. We simply reasoned that our country had called, and we had to answer. Simple as that. We read in the papers and watched on TV that some who returned were treated as villians, called baby-killers, spat on by those who burned their draft cards and fled the country until the whole thing blew over (they hoped). And me? Well, my draft lottery number was 17 by the time I started college, and they had already taken up to 13. I got into Army ROTC, hoping if I went to Viet Nam, wherever it was, I would have at least a better chance of surviving than those who were drafted right out of their new-found jobs, such as they were.



Still, there was hope. No victim mentality, no mistrust of our friends and neighbors, no excuses. We knew we didn't live in a perfect world, but we knew we were up to the task of surviving whatever God dealt us next. Not because some media-created political messiah promised us a changed world, but because our parents, churches, and schools had instilled in us what it would take to DO something...not wait for someone to do something for us or to us.



But that was a lifetime ago. The only Kennedys with any integrity are long dead. The draft dodgers are back from Canada and are now college professors. Those raised as alleged victims are now arrogantly exacting revenge on the rest of us but still whining for more and more and more. And trust me, they will NEVER HAVE ENOUGH. It's just not in them, bless their hearts; they have just had the victim mentality hammered into them for so long that they couldn't survive in my world if they wanted to, which of course they don't. That is just not enough, ya see...they won't stop until they have destroyed or taken over my world. And I will miss it and all the people in it. The tiny eighty year old lady who sat behind me in church and gave her tithe every Sunday out of her paltry social security check, then dug deeper and gave a little more to the church youth group because she said they were the future of the world; the volunteer firefighters who gave up their free time just to help their neighbors and not receiving so much as a thank you as they used the flat side of an axe to chip the ice off their gear so they could finally go home to their families; the mailman who just KNEW something had to be wrong when the frail little man down the road from me didn't come out and get his mail for three days in a row and called the Sheriff's office to check on him; the folks who plow the snow, serve up plate lunches and wash the dishes, clean the streets, mow the cemetery, keep the lights on, nurse the sick back to health, and on and on, and on...no room for whiners and artificial victims among these heroes. I will miss them all greatly.



The point? Well, Michelle and Barack never knew these folks, or even cared that they existed. Instead, they made these patriots pay more and more and more in taxes to finance their Marxist fantasy projects in South Chicago and a thousand similar locations.



As for me, I will enjoy my cigar with a single malt scotch on the rocks, NO Kool-Aid please...