I am always conflicted about this day because of my regrets about the events of the same day in 1863 when the South lost the Second American Revolution at Gettysburg and Vicksburg. My homegrown education about the Constitution over the last year and the discovery of its absolute recipe or surrender to statist expansion (depending on your point of view), it appears to be lets me take little pleasure in the Declaration of Independence which became a dead letter once the Constitution was ratified.
Linda penned this eloquent paean to this fated day below. We have slight disagreements and a larger one on Israel but her scribblings bear attention. Enjoy and please, DON’T be safe. -BB
Question: “What does Independence Day mean in 2010?” Answer: “Nothing in particular.”
Oh, still barbecues, incredibly expensive fireworks, lots of politicians ducking their constituents, probably a few more deaths along the drug cartel corridor…but…nothing of any significance.
My most “patriotic” thought was that in a country where Thomas Jefferson and his brainy, thoughtful chums wanted citizens to be at least as well armed as the government, we can no longer buy a simple cherry bomb or M-80. We might hurt ourselves, you know, or possibly foment revolution, and don’t anyone try to tell me that T. J. and the boys didn’t know about fireworks; I assure you, they did, just as God knew all about cannabis and the juice of the poppy and didn’t say a word. (Once again: no, I do not use “recreational” drugs. My mind is my most precious possession and nothing is enough fun to go to jail over.) They also knew that life involves taking risks and if you want to make a big bang it behooves you to take sensible precautions or accept the consequences.
What is there to celebrate? The dying of the light? The destruction of the Constitution? Laws so much more intrusive and expensive than those in Jefferson’s day that he would have gaped like a hayseed at the concept of government taking over half his income, telling him what he could use to light his house, what and where he could smoke, and that his cook couldn’t wring a chicken’s neck, pluck the bird, and fry it for his dinner?
We can rage or we can pretend we do not see, those of us who are old enough to remember some semblance of freedom. Some of our youngers still believe naively that they can change the system with signs, slogans, gatherings on streets, parks, and lawns, and electing a lot of new politicians. The more violent and youthful haul down very ragged old glory and run up the banner of Mexico with impunity. Goodness, we can’t be bigots and object, now, can we? Surely those here illegally have every right to substitute their tongue and flag for ours? Surely those who practice Sharia law, which goes against a great deal of what Americans believe, have a right not only to self-determination but to foist their bizarre beliefs on the rest of us? Let me try “honor” killing someone who dishonors my flag, my country, and my beliefs, and we’ll see how far I get in court with that line of argument, which is only valid for Muslims punishing wives who were raped or daughters who convert to Christianity. By all means, let us change American customs and folkways rather than risk hurting someone’s feelings. Other than mine, of course. That’s okay. After all, I’m old, white, female, Christian, conservative, butter- and red-meat eating, wine-drinking, smoking, and not dependent upon the government. I’m fair game for almost everyone.
I resent all of this very much because I dislike being disturbed, ravaged economically, insulted, discriminated against, accused of treason and sedition because our masters think I am dangerous for wanting to preserve our culture and beliefs, and being upset in general. It is against both my religion and my philosophical beliefs to lose my equanimity. I’m a merry little soul who asks only to be left in peace to raise goats (something which appears to be becoming synonymous with my name), cattle, chickens, pigs, and gardens while others are left to drill for oil, hire and fire whom they wish, and buy what I produce or not as they please.
I am fed up with seeing our way of life destroyed in the insane belief that strength comes from diversity, not unity. I am weary of hysterical warnings on every package, box, or bottle I pick up. I am close to infuriated that everyone is encouraged to be proud to be any color other than white. I do not define myself by being “white,” and it is a matter of humor and joy that I regale you with tales of being half Irish and all Texan, which I am. In general both are charming and colorful and almost never shoot up the Post Office in Dublin. (Yes, there is a Dublin, Texas, about 25 miles from our place in the Hill Country.) Back in ’18 they could write songs about being “off to jine th’ IRA to th’ rattle of the Thompson guns.” We can’t even buy bottle rockets.
It is disastrously ironic that it is white conservatives who actually judge people by the content of their characters and their behaviors, while the rest see only threats, labels, and the success they have had by using our good manners against us. I sign my full name to everything I write for roughly the same reasons John Hancock wrote his name large: I am not ashamed of anything I believe, and I wouldn’t want the other two individuals in this universe named Linda Traynham to suffer for what I do.
Have you any idea what it is like (I am sure my readers do) to spend your lives following the rules that lead to success and see them ripped asunder by vicious, violent, Statist yahoos? Both our lives and our beliefs. I hope you do not know, yet, what it is like to have friends and neighbors warn you anxiously that men have been asking questions and seen watching and photographing your house…Have a good time, Janet and the BATF boys, I’m really quite harmless other than when I’m writing. I don’t even have a swastika tattoo. (I don’t have any sort of tattoo. It would hurt and be ugly.) I don’t watch Fox or listen to Rush or Glen Beck. True, on particularly trying days I fish out a sterling replica (I do not wear authentic orders and decorations to which I am not entitled) of a German medal from WWII for Service on the Eastern Front and wear it, but I don’t suppose anyone cares if I become a National Socialist so long as I do it American style. Other than no one shooting at me–yet–or incarcerating me–yet–modern life is roughly as much fun as being involved unwillingly when someone else has started a war in Asia. (Ancient, important rule: never start a war on a land mass in Asia.) No one has allowed American troops to win in the last fifty years and we citizens are losing worse.
That is why Independence Day means nothing to me today other than sadness. I rage, but know it is impotently. I mourn the loss of my country but do not see any way to restore the days and ways of our greatness. Do the descendants of the Third Reich laugh in Argentina today? Why not? All of our other enemies laugh or gloat. Enemies both foreign and domestic. The sheer contempt of Nancy, Harry, and Barry calling socialized medicine a “Christmas present” has not ceased to rankle in a mere six months…the tapes of rejoicing in the streets of the Muslim world on 9-11…the contempt with which our dear leader is treated by the increasing number who hate us…thugs in purple tee-shirts getting a free pass on intimidating voters…the condescension of those elected to Congress daring to call for boycotts of their state over a simple bill to enforce Federal law…
No, I see no cause for rejoicing or pride today.
The grand old flag does not fly outside my house; I’m sticking with the Burnett, a single golden star on a field of blue, the true flag of the Republic of Texas. The dream of the Republic of Texas is to return to our very slightly and carefully updated 1836 Constitution. (Basically, it allows for universal suffrage, and I will say again that I will give up my vote gladly to return to a time when only male property owners–as opposed to those with only mortgages, far less nothing–are allowed to vote. No good can ever come of allowing those who have no stake in the game to vote themselves ever-increasing benefits.) We have so many years of bad examples and idiotic ideas to guide us in what not to do, you see.
Petitions for redress of grievances…a joke. The Bill of Rights? In shreds. No “onerous” fines? Risible. The requirement that the president of the US be a natural born citizen? Open to considerable question. The ability of the first president who takes a fancy to become the first dictator? Beyond question on legislation passed in THIS century, when combined with Presidential Executive Orders and Signings. Every time we look around Obama has declared another “national emergency,” all that is needed to dismiss Congress for six months and put FEMA/Homeland Security in charge with no recourse by anyone.
If Obama is so smart how has he caused so much damage in eighteen months, unless he meant to? If I’m so smart why can’t I think of anything better to do than go take a nap after having howled uselessly and used my week’s dose of iodine to draw a swastika on my tummy? Wry laugh, that only proves how ineffective I feel, because that sign of rebellion is fading fast as my body absorbs what it needs. The iodine, that is.
The worst of it, friends, is the question of which sort of National Socialist you would choose to be if you were forced to. Think about that very carefully. Given a choice of destroying Jews for fun and profit, or destroying all your own country believes in, which would you opt for, however reluctantly, if forced? All the world knows that I am a staunch supporter of Israel, and if that country stops buying appeasement lies (it is not possible to appease those who hate either of us) that tiny country will, doubtless, survive better than we will. Hitler, at least, glorified his adopted state. Our leaders and those to whom they listen loathe all that make us great.
The problem with drawing lines in the sand is that they bid fair to cost us our lives. We can never quote Patrick Henry in full too many times: “Is life so dear or peace so sweet as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid it, almighty God! I know not what choice others may make, but as for me, give me liberty or give me death.”
Weary sigh. The problem is, the national socialists in charge of both houses of Congress, the White House, the judiciary, forty czars, and assorted paramilitary operations are quite willing to give us death. Death of our spirits, death of the country we love so dearly, and death literally.
Linda Brady Traynham