Questioning the left's patriotism as flag burning continues in San Francisco

One guaranteed way to set off individuals on the left is to say liberals do not love their country. This is a sure bet that fireworks will be produced from the plain anger that will erupt from them. As a Democratic Senator for New York in 2003, now Secretary of State, Hillary Clinton denounced angrily those who accuse liberals of being unpatriotic saying:

"I am sick and tired of people who say that if you debate and you disagree with this administration somehow you're not patriotic. We should stand up and say we are Americans and we have a right to debate and disagree with any administration."

I wrote an essay a while back that Larry Elder read on his radio show broadcast over 700 ABC affiliate stations. In it I explain how I feel about San Francisco.

“The Third Wedding” by Louis Tonetti

Long ago my wife and I used to enjoy visiting Baghdad by the Bay (a.k.a. San Francisco). However, it’s no longer one of our favorite places to visit for a number of reasons, including the inordinate hatred of our military on the part of city officials (witness their shunning of the USS Iowa-even Senator Dianne Feinstein [D-CA] was appalled!), the overwhelmingly extreme liberal bias permeating the populace, and the prevailing attitude about gun control. In the past several years we have gone there three times, each time to attend the wedding of one of the three daughters of our dear friend who was the “best man” at our wedding 38 years ago (I was his “best man” 37 years ago). He and I served in the US Navy together, having first met in a training class that taught us to intercept Russian naval Morse code communications. No, even though it was quite a while ago, our ships didn’t have wooden hulls then, except for minesweepers of course.

The wedding ceremony and reception were held at the famous Cliff House overlooking the mighty Pacific Ocean, and everything was very beautiful, including the pretty bride and the awesome sunset. During the reception we were enjoying some drinks and pleasant conversation until I made a terrible mistake. I asked George (who had been a long-time neighbor of our friend when they were both living in Saratoga, California), how he was enjoying living in Grass Valley, California. He replied that it was terrible. I asked why, especially since it is such a beautiful area. “All six local radio stations carry those talk show guys like Rush and those others,” he said. I knew the answer, but still asked him the question: “Was that a good thing or a bad thing?” He gave me a look of disbelief. I then asked if his radio had a tuning knob or button. He then gave me a really weird look.

Trying to change the subject, I asked his wife how she was enjoying living in their new home. She mentioned something about a bunch of crazy people with guns shooting and hunting and driving their pickup trucks, and bad stuff like that. “Why, there was even a dead deer on their property.” She didn’t think it was funny when I asked if she liked venison.

Wanting to change the subject once again, I started talking about the ugliness of the election rhetoric on the part of the candidates from both parties. George gave me another one of his looks and stated that the nastiness was only on the part of the Republicans. I almost spilled my drink on that one, but still tried to reason with him to no avail. “The dirt was only being dished out by the Republicans,” he said. Further, “The Democrats are way above such tactics.” I knew at that point it was going to be a long evening. George then volunteered that he had not always been a Democrat. He was a Republican until his trust was betrayed. I asked by whom, and he replied, “George Herbert Walker Bush, a very dishonest man who lacked integrity.” That’s why he switched to being a Democrat because he found a man with integrity. Very reluctantly, I asked who that might be, and he said (get ready for this), “President Bill Clinton.” I almost passed out. I asked, “Do you mean the man who went on national TV and looked America straight in the eye and said he did not have sex with that woman?” Again with the look from George, who then said (really get ready for this one), “President Clinton didn’t have sex with that woman.” I gulped down the rest of my martini and asked the bartender for a double. I managed to ask George what the heck he was talking about. He said what Clinton did was not the same thing as having sex. My wife who had been patiently standing there listening to all this (and looking quite beautiful I might add), turned and walked away, muttering under her breath, “Idiot!”

Wanting to really change the subject again, I discovered that George was determined to tell me what he thought about the current president. I asked him if he was going to tell me that Bush lied and people died. Yep, that’s exactly what he was talkin’ ‘bout. I responded by asking him if he ever heard of General Georges Sada. Nope, he hadn’t heard of “whoever that is.” I explained that he was the second-in-command of the Iraqi air force under Saddam Hussein, and who knew about the fifty plus sorties, ferrying WMD from Iraq to Syria. With that, George really gave me “the look.” I further tried to explain that the General had testified before Congressional hearings to the effect that this was all being done under the guise of providing humanitarian aid to Syria prior to the start of the Iraq war. George arrogantly asked if I was there when the WMD were being transported, and I replied, “No George, I wasn’t there.” He then proudly asked how I knew all this was true, since I wasn’t there. I surrendered, seeing absolutely no point in going on.

Much to my chagrin, George and his wife were seated at our dinner table. His wife cheerfully mentioned that she listens to the Fox News Channel. I asked her why on earth she would do that, and she said, “To know what the enemy’ is thinking and saying.” I asked if I were among the enemy’s ranks, and she just gave me a really stupid-looking grin. I knew right then and there that’s where George got his from.

Knowing that the evening was going to be really long, I decided to have some fun and asked George where he stood on gun control. He immediately started rattling off the Brady Bunch’s talking points about how guns are bad and that guns kill people. I took out my NRA Lifetime Membership Card and showed it to him without comment. He said, “I suppose you want to carry around a bazooka with you.” Not expecting to encounter too many World War II vintage tanks in my travels, I replied that it probably wasn’t necessary. However, if I wanted to, I should be allowed to do so. For the rest of the evening, George just kept staring at me. I mean it. It was spooky. But not only was I laughing on the inside, I was literally laughing on the outside, because the wedding photographer, a great guy from New York, decided to sit down next to me, and I began using him as my foil, all at George’s expense. George was not laughing at all.

The wedding was still very nice indeed and, of course, we are glad we went. But there was an additional benefit to the trip. The day before the wedding, my wife and I were walking around Golden Gate Park enjoying the beautiful, sunny gorgeous day that it was. The view of the “Bridge” was very impressive. We ended up walking along some dirt trail in the hiking section of the park, trying to figure out how to get back to our hotel. We started climbing some steep steps made out of old railroad ties. As we were climbing, we met a very nice-looking young man, accompanied by his pretty lady who was holding onto his arm. He had nice shiny black hair, cut short-military style. We smiled and let them pass by. He was wearing a t-shirt and Bermuda shorts-and he had two artificial legs, and only one arm. He was a triple amputee. His legs were kind of like steel braces with a foot at the end; it looked like the legs were made from an old Erector Set. So many emotions were running through me and my wife: amazement at his courage and determination to walk around normally, especially down a steep embankment path; sorrow at his loss of limbs; gratitude for his sacrifice to our country; anger at those who hate America and are so vehemently anti-military. When we reached the top, we found ourselves walking on the grounds of Fort Miley VA Medical Center, an extensive rehabilitation facility for our soldiers wounded in battle while defending our great nation. When we were almost back at the hotel, my wife mentioned that there were only a very, very few triple amputees who have survived at all.
Finally, I thought how ironic it all was. The people in the Bay Area hate our military so very much, unhesitatingly demonstrating at every opportunity their unreasonable attitudes toward those who defend our freedoms. I believe each and every homosexual, gay, lesbian, transgender, transvestite person in the country, especially in the San Francisco area, should pray for a strong military to wage aggressive warfare against the Islamo-fascist thugs who are presently threatening the very fabric of our society, even our very culture. They should all look carefully at what Islam calls “immoral people and deviates,” that is to say, what they call homosexuals. It is not very pretty what Islam has in store for these folks. Islam says, “They should all be killed in the most horrible manner possible.” The Bay Area folks should check out the Internet postings, along with the graphic pictures, which show how the “peaceful” servants of Allah treat homosexuals. Rosie O’Donnell will probably be singing a different tune when they come for her. She probably won’t be singing that old familiar standby of liberals everywhere, “Terrorists Are Just Regular People Too.” You know, “They’re just Moms and Dads, too.”

“But, I thought Islam is a religion of peace,” you say. “Nay,” I say. Having been an Arabic linguist for the National Security Agency for six years way back when, I can tell you most authoritatively that the word “Islam” means “to submit.” It does not mean peace. “Salaam” means peace. Furthermore, there are only three ways “to submit” to Islam: 1.) Convert to Islam. 2.) Become a second class citizen-a dhimmi-paying “protection money” on demand (Jizya). Or 3.) Die. I don’t like any of those choices, do you? My granddaughter ain’t gonna wear no freakin’ burkha. I guar-own-tee it!

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