Posted on 12/18/2001 12:17:27 AM PST by Mercuria
Several weeks ago I took my sons to see that (noncontroversial) children's hit flick, Monsters, Inc., at a United Artists theater. We settled into our seats, my eldest navigating his posterior and the popcorn, I juggling the toddling one and the root beer and perusing the trailers for appropriate subject matter for the next family excursion.
And then, for the first time in my life, I saw a propaganda piece. Live.
Seeing as this is my first war as a (still only) resident of America it was inspiring, "uniting". I thought of Rosie the Riveter and all the "Go, USA!" I had missed out on during wars past, and felt a hearkening back to a history of a nation united for "Right".
My five-year old and I unconsciously held hands and surreptitiously sang along as multi-landscapes, multi-ethnicities and a booming tenor filled the theater. Sing along, please, as we did:
Notice something missing? We did. My son, sweet innocent that he is, thought, no doubt, as he hurried to catch up to the lead, that he had screwed up the words. I knew I hadn't. But somewhere, someone had decided to. On purpose.
I arrived at home ready to stomp my own sour grapes and began to make some calls to find out who had authorized this "inclusive" deletion. Katherine Lee Bates, the pen of the prose, may be deceased, I thought, but I'm most decidedly not and I am mad, as hell, and I don't feel like taking this PC-crap anymore. "Just pick another freakin' song, then!", I was going to yell. And "You offended ME, get it? Someone's STILL offended!" Or how about "God. GodGodGodGodGod." Oh, how the imaginary diatribe flowed angry and articulate through my noggin as I looked up numbers. Ooh yeah, and I was going to record it all and play it on my radio show, and show someone, boy.
But I couldn't get beyond theater location recordings and voice mails and it was time to make dinner and fold laundry and plan a Christmas Pageant and change a diaper. When it comes to my whine I guess I'm a nouveau beaujolais, I ain't got the time to fer-, er, foment. At least not on my own.
I've become really comfortable publicly remonstrating things in groups. From the "armed conflict" in Kosovo to the Million (sic) Moms, the dumping of Elian and the continued presence of Dan (Rather) Biased, there's been a comfort in numbers and the sharing of Marks-A-Lots. Not to mention the fact that egg rolls and cabernet post-protest are so much more fun when its some more than one. It makes me think of that evangelical tune, "Though we are many, we are one body" and I've learned in life that I can't do it all by myself. But by the unmentionable grace of that unmentionable God I had found freerepublic.com. Their slogan? "You are not alone."
And that's not to say I won't do anything solo. Just because the Left Angeles Slimes won't print any of my letters doesn't mean I don't write them.
In fact, I once dragged my (poor) family around the country -- nine thousand miles in seven weeks -- to talk to a lot of these "lone (free) rangers". They had been labelled a "vast right wing conspiracy". I went out looking for this network of schemers but I had, in turn, found dreamers, supermarket managers, war veterans, aspiring writers, moms, misfits and readytobe minutemen. Mostly, though, what they had in common were real jobs and not enough time to make their activism a full-time gig.
I looked for the highest profile ones. The "successes". Not necessarily members of the website but the instillers and livers of the ideals. Okay, so several are in battles with the IRS, one was detained for incendiary bumper stickers, one's now dead. Should I be dissuaded just 'cause the PTB doesn't like the company I had somehow begun to keep? Even a guy I filmed just weeks ago has made the front pages of every paper as a potential terrorist. And he's a Jew. I mean, is it me? Maybe I'm just on the wrong side.
Until, of course, I look upon the side that's usually on the other side of the street.
Gloria Allred, for instance, is a lawyer who's always getting the desired face time. She's currently working with an American Airlines flight attendant who's upset that her employer's insurance policy won't cover her $17,000 worth of (voluntary) fertility treatments. She wanted a baby, couldn't have one, decided to try all that science has come up with to help her and now wants someone else to pay the bill. The last time I saw Allred (what an almost ludicrously appropriate surname), she was fighting for the mother of a three-year old (among other children) who now, faced with a pile o' bills, wanted to sue her former doctor for not having enabled her to abort said child. Allred's not picky, I surmised, why should I be?
The ACLU is chomping at the bit to defend any Muslim who might be currently unfairly targeted by the Feds for an interview in regards to the terrorist cells most definitely open for business here in the homeland. I hate to sound the bigot but what is it about this culture that one would strive so hard to preserve, why do they deserve the free representation thousands of other unfairly targeted Amricans would want.
I read in the Slimes today this fantastic line in an article titled "14,000 Muslims Turn Out for Celebration in Orange County":
Sunday began with an early group prayer. Thousands of Muslims, divided by gender -- men in one area, women in another -- knelt shoulder to shoulder at the fairgrounds as a symbol of unity.
I guess it all depends on what standards one wishes to uphold, I suppose. Or what unity means, for that matter. The ACLU is just continuing their fight against America's archaic traditions and value system in order to uphold someone, anyone, else's. Archaic system, that is. Like there's ever anything new. Whatever by common sensibility Americans seek to uphold, the ACLU seeks, it seems, to tear it down. These are, after all, NAMBLA's lawyers, too, right? Nope, don't want to hang out with them.
Or maybe I should join up with the watermelons, those green on the outside, red on the inside usurpers of private property and snowmobiling and beachgoing enjoyment of the masses. (Not to mention the livelihood of farmers, hunters, loggers and ranchers.) They can get away with all sorts of criminal activity and, through real terrorist activity, effect real change. Besides, I see ads in the classifieds for more of them. They get paid, fer goodness' sake. The people I've been covering get busted for political leaflets, and "arsenals" of dust-collecting rifles, and stickers that say "The Kingdom Cometh". Wackos and extremists no more, but often much less, than the ELFs and the ALFs, they're just not the currently in vogue type.
My favorite whine, post-9/11, was the uproar over the scrawled "spontaneous act of penmanship" (as a Naval high-ranker called it -- 'cause he had nothing better to do at the time) on a missile that said "HIGH JACK THIS FAGS", especially since it wasn't a complaint from the English Department but rather some bellyaching homosexual rights groups that felt insulted. When the bomb's coming your way, get upset, guys, okay? It's a BOMB. It is going to BLOW UP. It will be illegible shortly. Nope, their rant lasted longer than the trajectory of that missile, or its target, of that I'm sure.
No, I don't want to join any of them.
I hadn't felt fear since I found the internet and like-minded individuals. Safety in numbers, and all that. Although I did hesitate before I first signed up (well, at least for a few minutes).
But now I find myself feeling it again. Maybe just a little. I picked the Right side, 'cause I didn't want to be wrong, but the wrong side seems to get the press and the kudos and has well-manicured nails. And they get away with criminal activity, time and time again even when those I tend to catch on tape convincingly have Truth and Justice in their most basic forms on their side. They don't burn down ski lifts or send themselves hatemail or mutter "Die, Yankee infidel scum" as they drive their duped wives to PTA meetings for the sake of appearances. They just get treated as if they do. Most of the time, I find, they just want to be left the hell alone.
It seemed like it might be a vintage year for the often ignored cries of the Right, but now, somehow, I'm not so sure. Even with "our" President in Da House, and an AG for the 2A in charge at the DOJ, time is tick tocking and the BATF's no-knocking and Jesse J's still shilling and the ride is thrilling but sometimes I want to get off and start chilling and put the Marks-A-Lot away for another far off day...
But I guess it can't be done. Because while a Kentucky militia leader is losing his Second Amendment rights over a decades old shoplifting charge our government's dropping tons of cake on Afghanistan. And as they fight to preserve our image as a free Republic on the outside we have to continue working and writing and calling and fighting to keep it free from the inside first. Because if I were to give up and someone else were to give up then someday someone might be back to marking up their posterboard all alone. And maybe our leaders on the Hill might be singing Gaia Bless America the next time someone thinks to whack us, because the whines of the other side would be the banner crop of the year.
No, best to remember I'm not alone and best to just tell a heap of folks how lame United Artists is and keep buying permanent ink and Bristol board in bulk and sharing war stories and glory over cabernet and crispy deep fried things. The press may not cover us but the effort never really goes unheeded. We have our occasional victories but they just don't print their losses on the front page. At least never in a way that admits their moments of defeat.
And even when we lose we still have each other and we're wiser and ready for the next battle. In the meantime though the boss wants results and the shirts need to be ironed and the gas bill has to be paid and the children need to be fed.
"You'll rest when you're dead."
Mercurial Times exclusive commentary. All reprints must credit the author and Mercurial Times.
You?
**g**
Hey, under the last administration "chalking" weapons was banned because we might offend those on the receiving end. Like these freaks can read the writing right before they get sent to hell.
Thanks, Mercuria.
God shed his light on thee,
my good friend.
1. I'm muslim. Kiss my a$$.
2. Just looked the guns are still there.
3. Heard the knock on the door, just Mormons and Jehova Witness.
4. I thought probable cause was dead after 9-11. No knocking on the door demanding entry. Hummm curious!
5.We want answers! Havent heard that yet. Maybe I'm doing something wrong.
6.Been looking for kangaroos, but see none. Brisbane station out.
7. Tort is still alive and well.
8. You wrote this, I presume it wasn't from a jail cell awaiting bail.
9. I can still dance naked in my bathroom singing "god bless russia", and casting curses. Cool!
10.I retract my statement about number 9 above. For the respect of the people.
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