A Year-End Smorgasbord
If you’re anything like me, please accept my condolences. God knows it’s not easy being us. For one thing, you can’t stop seeking logical reasons for everything that happens even though you know that the search will, far more often than not, end fruitlessly. Our tombstones could read: “Finally, a logical conclusion.”
For instance, when I’m mailing out one of my books, unless it’s “Liberals: America’s Termites,” I have to make a trip to the Post Office. That’s because only “Termites,” at 11 ounces, is light enough to deposit in a mail box. In case it’s escaped your notice, you are not allowed to mail a stamped package weighing in excess of 13 ounces. I always assumed this rule came about because of Ted Kaczynski, a Harvard grad who came to be known as the Unabomber when, between 1978 and 1995, he mailed out 16 bombs that killed three people and maimed 23 others. But inasmuch as he was arrested in 1996 and the Post Office didn’t lower the limit from 16 ounces until 2007, it either means my assumption was incorrect or, more likely, that it took a federal agency all that time to cut through the red tape.
I recently suggested that wealthy conservatives, instead of bankrolling occasional elections, would have far more influence if they started buying up newspapers, magazines and TV stations. It has since occurred to me that Glenn Beck could have done more good if he had bought an existing Texas daily instead of creating The Blaze. The fact is The Blaze will not convert anyone to our side. Only those already committed to conservatism will even be aware it exists. Is it any wonder that the Left controls the mass media and pop culture, and therefore the message, when the Right is seemingly content to play defense?
Speaking of conversion, quite often, but especially during the Christmas season, I receive messages from readers who urge me to become a Christian. It never bothers me. Although I haven’t the slightest intention of converting, I find that I appreciate their concern. Why would I resent people who only know me from my articles worrying about my eternal soul? I take it as a compliment, even if that’s not always the way they intend it. In fact, if I could choose, I’d take their email over the stuff that includes videos, links and those endless invitations to stroll down memory lane. For me, at least, nostalgia isn’t what it used to be.
When I hear Obama insisting to the Republicans in Congress that when it comes to taxes and spending, it’s his way or the highway, I understand what people mean when they refer to sore winners. Perhaps it’s because in his entire Affirmative Action-coddled life, he has never been forced to accept the inevitable losses that lead to maturity, he remains, even in his 50s, as blissfully unaware of his numerous shortcomings as your typical spoiled teenager.
My friend, Don Melquist, otherwise known as the Pride of Green Valley, Arizona, recently pointed out to me what a huge role bossy black women have played in Obama’s life. The ladies include Oprah Winfrey, Susan Rice, Whoopi Goldberg, Valerie Jarrett and Michelle Obama. But, it occurred to me that he has also surrounded himself with bossy Jewish men, such as Rahm Emanuel, David Axelrod and George Soros, and assorted bossy ne’er-do-wells, such as Bill Ayers, Frank Marshall Davis and Jeremiah Wright. Whoever it was who first observed that when you lie down with dogs, you’re very likely to get up with fleas, must have had someone very much like Obama in mind.
A couple of weeks ago, I heard a guy being interviewed on the radio. It seems he had been in a coma. When he finally emerged, he was convinced of reincarnation. Nothing he said really indicated why. But because he had had what is referred to as a near-death experience, his words are supposed to be taken more seriously than anyone else’s. Oddly enough, that rule doesn’t seem to apply to those of us who have sat through entire Jim Carrey and Adam Sandler movies, although I could swear that several times my life flashed before my eyes before arriving at the closing credits.
It’s not merely my usual skepticism that causes me to doubt reincarnation. It’s that the concept makes no sense at all. As I understand it, we are placed on earth to learn from our mistakes. The ultimate goal is, I assume, perfect character. So perhaps in one life, a person was a thief. When he dies, he’s going to return and learn why it is wrong to steal. For me, the problem is that he doesn’t come back as himself. In fact, he comes back with no memory of a past existence, so he is really starting over again. It makes more sense to send the guy to jail in the first place and hope that he sees the error of his ways. At least he knows why he’s there.
Another reason it strikes me as nonsense is because the system suggests that we keep getting nicer and more civilized over the course of centuries. I mean, how can it be otherwise if we keep getting better, even incrementally? But is there anyone who actually believes the human race is showing even the slightest signs of improving? Any sane person, that is.
That automatically excludes the Ivy League faculty members who divided their political donations, 96% for Obama, 4% for Romney; the Democrats who believe their cause is well-served by having Harry Reid and Nancy Pelosi fronting for their Party; and everyone on Madison Avenue who seems convinced that Sarah Jessica Parker was born to appear in fashion and perfume ads when normal people know that anyone carting around that face belongs in a stakes race.