The Towers of York: A Ballad

 

I.  Not Today (Yesterday)

Many yesterdays ago, in a feverish time,

When Hell bent the world in a peaceful sign,

High over York rose a towering display.

Alas for that hope evil was born to betray.

 

At his birth seers warned, “The end of the world is today.”

 

Travel’d we there to gaze at the sight,

To witness this twin silver monument to might.

It soared to the clouds, to conquer the sky.

While others exclaimed, I only could sigh,

 

“Shadows fall over a day far from today.”

 

Fearfully I stared at the façade’s Gothic arch,

Then up the sleek girders gusted by March.

“What think you,” asked they, “of buildings so tall?”

Said I, with a shudder, “York’s Towers shall fall.”

 

“How say you so, miss?!  They rose only today!”

 

“Peevish nonsense,” cried they, “from a girl of thirteen!

‘Tis but dizzy heights imagination has seen.”

Dazzling towers I’d view’d that rose to great heights.

But no pinnacle had crush’d the heart with such fright.

 

“The Towers will fall!  I’ve seen enough for today!”

 

A bright future those slender arches belied;

Beyond their façade lay the ruins of pride.

Above their cold shadow, silver met the gold sun.

But its weight poorly borne, frail beauty’d succumb.

 

“Pray God, should they fall, let it not be today!”

 

Up we sped through the tower, my mind ill at ease,

Fears foster’d in magnitude by brothers who tease.

In mind’s eye did approach future terror on wing.

‘Twixt heav’n and earth, no refuge to cling.

 

Mist-vanish’d fate’s bolt would not strike today.

 

“How come you to think of such gloomy disaster?

Give us some reason for this Armageddon of plaster!”

“Perhaps an explosion, like the ones that wrack Eire;

A bomb in the basement, or maybe the spire.”

 

“One tower may explode, but not both in one day!”

 

“To accomplish that feat would need an army of men

To go unseen from floor one to one hundred and ten!”

“A storm then,” tried I, “with a wind of such power

To shatter the glass and send it down in a shower.”

 

“The sun shines brightly!  There’s no danger today!”

 

“Its supports are outside,” one yielded, “’tis true.

A fire could melt it, but could a fire melt two?

For lightning to strike twice would be quite a plan.”

Said I, in a caution, “Don’t underestimate Man.”

 

“We promise the Towers won’t fall – not today!”

 

Man builds empires up to the sky;

The physical materials God does supply.

But the material world’s the Devil’s to rule.

Against Man’s ambition, he plots chaos most cruel.

 

Man can’t reach Heaven with towers of steel

Nor trade for God’s love by making a deal.

Yet York’s Towers won’t fall by God’s loving hand –

The spiteful Devil shall knock down our castles of sand.

 

“The Towers won’t fall.  What more can we say?!”

 

Away in disgust my audience drew.

‘Twas impossible for a girl to know what I knew.

Not for my pleasure did I divine the Unknown.

Sight came unbidden, unwillingly shown.

 

“They won’t see the truth.  Oh no, not today.”

 

 II.  Signs of the Times (Today)

 

Now it’s today and people are weeping.

From the inferno, the hopeless are desperately leaping.

One tower wobbles, wagging its finger,

“Calamity’s upon you, dare not you linger!”

 

At Hudson’s last bridge, they look’d for a sign;

Their target in sight, with Fate they align’d.

Like a bird in whose reflection an enemy glares,

They slamm’d through the glass with their innocent fares.

 

To fight such a blaze needs an army of men

To climb from floor one to one hundred and ten.

Ten claxons clang for the World Trade Center;

Into the fiery maw, only the bravest dare enter.

 

Heroes and victims pass on the stairs.

Fate’s the precarious splitting of hairs.

Gasping for breath and toting their gear,

Those who go up must set aside fear.

 

York halts in horror to stare at the sight;

Billows of smoke turning day into night.

How, on this perfect day of sky blue,

Could tragedy strike, such hatred spew?

 

Stop up your ears to the thunder of rubble,

To the explosion of rage bursting our bubble.

To safety the panicking crowds madly run

From the hideous cloud that wipes out the sun.

 

All that is left of the towers I saw

Is the skeleton clinging to life by a claw.

Nothing is left to bury the dead.

Their ashes have buried the city instead.

 

The shadow of silence befalls our great land;

All music and laughter – even our band.

Not a bird, not a plane, not a single sweet note.

Every sound but crying has the enemy smote.

 

Six weeks has it taken for peace to return.

Even now, the smoldering ruins still burn.

“How could this happen?” ask we, wringing our hands.

“America was surely the safest of lands?”

 

Long is the story of sorrow and grief,

Of how America fail’d to keep out the thief.

Of closing our eyes and our ears to the fey.

Of saying too often, “Oh no, not today.”

 

Into our country fanatics were welcome,

No matter how dang’rous their activities made them.

Political correction corrupted the rules,

Allowing them to march onto our planes with their tools.

 

The mind guards fast an obstinate gate

Against the grim specter of unthinkable Fate.

When safe in the present Men warnings ignore,

The future’s a battlefield scarred by war.

 

 III. The Test of Time (Tomorrow)

 

The long years have passed and now it’s tomorrow.

Fate’s spared us to finish the tale of our sorrow.

The fall of York’s Towers caus’d the breaking of hearts,

Suffr’d even by those with the smallest of parts.

 

On that terror-fill’d day, York stood not alone;

Against other symbols was death being flown.

Anxiously, Americans scanned the blue sky

For zealots who were praying to Allah to die.

 

For three harrow’d days after the fall,

O’er York hung bleak a dust-poisn’d pall.

For three days more, the cold North Wind flew,

Restoring the sky to that morning’s true blue.

 

In funerals and ceremonies to honor the dead,

Sad songs were sung and eulogies read.

The Towers deflated to a six-story pile;

An anguish to clear in air cindr’d vile.

 

One sleepy dawn came a low distant thunder;

With a roar it rent the stricken silence asunder.

The eagle was bound for strife-ridden lands,

Bringing justice’s wrath to those hid in the sands.

 

The grief-stupor’d nation awakened at last.

The Ground Zero flag flew from Ted’s mast.

No more taken for granted the Stars and the Stripes;

Freedom’s banner wav’d defiant in all sizes and types.

 

On went the descent of the now-aging year,

Yet the season of fall was loth to appear.

Springtime’s red robin, driven off by fall’s crows,

Returned to the garden and sang in the boughs.

 

Straight through the winter robin sang a bright tune.

The rose bloomed at Christmas as though it were June.

A balm of peace offr’d at the gift-giving season.

God’s mercy and pity transcend human reason.

 

Travel’d we back to gaze at the site;

Gone is the twin silver monument to might.

Where once lofty arches loomed fragile but fair,

Naught now remains but columns of air.

 

‘Tis lighter and warmer, but the shadows are chill;

Disbelief and mute awe do the empty void fill.

In the ruins the echoes of footsteps still clatter

And the wind carries whispers of long-ago chatter.

 

“Sixty years when I’m old?” asks a young voice from the past.

“Will that be how long York’s Towers will last?”

“More like thirty;” says the elder, “’tis I who’ll be gray.”

Twenty-nine years and six months, give or take an odd day.

 

When view’d from the past, tomorrow’s but today.

 

Always in mem’ry may York’s Towers arise;

Remember their splendor and not their demise.

May those who were lost be found in God’s glory

And granted a happier end to this story.

 

The Towers of York – A Ballad

Copyright 2001 Carole J. Rafferty

Advertisements
Published in: on September 10, 2014 at 7:44 am  Leave a Comment  

Atlantic City Runs Out of Luck

Trump Casinos announced today that it would be closing its two Atlantic City casinos on Sept. 16th, the day after the Miss American Pageant.

 

Remember the old Kenny Rogers song, “The Gambler”?  “You have to know when to hold/Know when to fold up/Know when to walk away/Know when to run/You never count your money sittin’ at the table/There’ll be time enough fer countin’/When the dealin’s done.

Back in the 1970s when the first casino opened in Atlantic City (Resorts), the promise was that the casino industry would revitalize the aging city.

 

And for several decades it did, despite misgivings about gambling and the southern location, with no airport (eventually an airport was built and a train extended to accommodate A.C.).   Many workers benefitted by the opening of the casino, including my mother, who was promoted from school bus driver to long-distance driver to Atlantic City driver.

 

Mom hated every minute of it, but it not only kept the roof over our heads but paid off the mortgage on the roof, and then repaired.  Sometimes I would go with her (although not very often) and watched the hotels springing up out of the sands.  On her 999th trip to Atlantic City, my mother quit the A.C. line run – although not her job.

 

“I will not drive to Atlantic City a 1,000th time!” she declared to her boss.

 

Her boss knew when to fold them, about the time corruption overtook the lucrative bus routes from Northern New Jersey to the Shore.  He sold all his tourist buses and stuck to the government certainty of the bureaucratic school bus routes.  Gamblers may come and go, win and lose, but people will always have kids who need a way to get to school.

 

By the mid-2000s, Atlantic City was already on the decline.  Now it was time for me to hate going to Atlantic City in my own right.  I didn’t have to part senior citizens getting into fistfights over the front seat of the bus.  But I still had long days and long night rides home (to be fair, the rides home from Harrisburg, Pa., much longer and much more tiring).

 

Atlantic City’s bus terminal echoed with emptiness.  No buses were lined up at the casino’s bus entrances.  By the time of my last trip, when the Tropicana’s SEIU employees were threatening to go on strike, the casino floors were empty, with only a scattering of gamblers at the casino’s mainstay, the one-armed bandits.   The Trop is the casino that featured “The Quarter,” – that is, the Latin Quarter – a shopping center styled after Havana, Cuba in the 1920’s, that featured, among things, a Russian restaurant and a statue of Vladimir Lenin.

 

Never fear for the buildings themselves.  They constitute pretty much hurricane-proof real estate along the Jersey Shore that will provide condominiums for the wealthy of Philadelphia (New York City already has Long Island).  Without the cost of having to maintain the entire building, the owners can afford to rent out the entertainment space.

 

The one thing New Jersey should not due is bail out Atlantic City.  Let the private sector handle it.  The unions supported Atlantic City, gambling their employees’ futures on a good economy fueled by middle-class taxpayers with cash to spare to do weekenders at the casinos.  Between the gambling, the shopping, and the entertainment, they thought they had it made forever.

 

Only they literally built their castles on the sand.

 

National Review writer Kevin D. Williamson wrote that Gov. Christie lost the bet on two new casinos, one of which, Revel, closed before it opened.  He suggested that Atlantic City needs to review its business plan with families in mind.

 

The last time I looked, National Review had its offices in New York.  Has Mr. Williamson ever driven down the Garden State Parkway?  Has he ever been down to the Jersey Shore (here in New Jersey, they say, ‘Down the Shore,’ but I was born in Yonkers, N.Y., thank you very much)?

 

Has he ever heard of Wildwood?  Surely, he’s heard of Seaside Heights, especially since Hurricane Sandy blew the place over in 2012.  Seaside Heights still hasn’t been restored.  The last I heard, its roller coaster is still swimming in the surf.

 

Atlantic City is not Las Vegas.  Las Vegas sits in the middle of an enormous desert, in a state where nearly 90 percent of the land is owned by the government.  Its nearest competition is in Reno, in the northwest section of the state.  When you’re in the middle of nowhere, you can put up roller coasters galore without any fear they’ll be swamped by a hurricane.

 

Atlantic City is one coastal town (city) among many, many, many.  Seaside Heights, when it had an amusement pier was the seaside resort of choice for northern New Jersey residents; Wildwood, for southern New Jersey and metro Philadelphia residents, as well as joy-riding teenagers who love the distance from home and parents, and the decidedly profaner tee shirts that can be purchased there.

 

Wildwood has upgraded and gone gentry (there are three towns – North Wildwood, Wildwood, and Wildwood Crest [South]).  Vacation condos have replaced many of Wildwood’s kitschy motels.  Vacationers are attracted to its mile-long boardwalk, but no longer to its Sixties-themed motels.  Wearing peacenik tee shirts and love beads is one thing.  Staying at the Jupiter II Motel is another (I made that up; there’s no Jupiter II Motel, but there is the Stardust Motel at the corner of Ocean and East Spicer – basically, right on the boardwalk near the most popular pier).

 

Wildwood built a beautiful, new convention hall.  Then 9/11 happened, and the firemen who were supposed to fill it up, as well as American Legionnaires and other groups, stopped coming.  Families who used to vacation there from the North had left the state right behind their companies, fleeing the highest corporate taxes in the nation, itself holding the title of highest corporate taxer in the world.

 

Since the state is more likely to bail out Atlantic City before it will restore Seaside Heights, even though it’s almost another full hour’s drive down the Garden State for Northern vacationers, Atlantic City might as well restore its boardwalk.

 

Gov. Christie should leave the Seaside Heights roller coaster where it is in the ocean as a monument and a reminder as to what happens when you allow the government to manage the economy.  Asbury Park had the S.S. Morro Castle, which was set ablaze on Sept. 8 1934, by a disgruntled crew member.  Yesterday, in fact, was the 80th anniversary of that tragedy.  (God bless, “Aunt” Fannie!  You were a true heroine!).

 

But that’s okay.  Atlantic City already has a fitting monument – the statue of Vladimir Lenin.  The city should transfer him from The Quarter at the Trop to the end of the Atlantic City Expressway, where all traffic enters the city.

 

 

Published in: on September 9, 2014 at 5:49 pm  Leave a Comment  

Europe’s 9/11

ISIS (Islamic State of Iraq & Syria), in its most recent announcement of its 9/11 activities stated that its intention was to attack Europe in September and the United States “the next month.”

 

Obama’s JV Team apparently decided that Europe, and in particular England, should have its 9/11 moment.  We’ve had our turn and can wait until October for the punches Al Qaeda failed to deliver in September 2001.

 

Meanwhile, our Golfer-in-Chief is meeting with England’s Prime Minister, David Cameron and other NATO leaders to show solidarity.  Obama is vowing to destroy what he calls “ISIL” – Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant (the “Levant” includes Israel).  As for “Uncle Joe” Biden, he’s delivering rousing speeches about delivering ISIS to the gates of hell after we tend to our grieving.

 

How about stopping them in the first place?  If we hadn’t given them all that aid and military support, we wouldn’t be in this position.  Obama’s sudden Anglophilia is one of his most outrageous hypocrisy since he took office.  Read his autobiography, Dreams from My Father, and you’ll discover just how much he hates Great Britain.  He considers the UK a marauding colonialist power that subjugating his father’s country.   When England sent him a bust of Winston Churchill as a gift, he returned it.

 

And now he’s going to tell us how he wants to build a coalition with Great Britain?  He’s the one who made it possible for ISIS/ISIL to threaten England in the first place.  Biden’s cheerleading vow to send ISIS to the gates of Hell is equally risible.  Who do they think they’re kidding?

 

Meanwhile, the government has given no specific date for an October here in the United States.  Someone needs to create a Muslim calendar of terrorist attacks and terrorist or Islamic-related dates.  Here are a few to keep in mind for the month of October:

 

Oct. 1 – 1995:  10 Muslims convicted in failed plot to blow up U.N., Holland Tunnel and other structures in New York City.

Oct. 2 – 1187:  Sultan Saladin captures Jerusalem from the Crusaders.

Oct. 4 –  2002: American Muslim Richard Reid pleads guilty to attempting to blow up airliner.

Oct. 7 – 1985:  Four Palestinian terrorists seize Italian cruise ship, Achille Lauro, for two days, killing American Leon Klinghoffer.

Oct. 10 /11 – 2002:  Congress votes to back Pres. Bush’s plans to use force in Iraq.

Oct. 12 – 2000:  17 U.S. sailors killed in terrorist bombing of U.S.S. Cole, refueling in Aden, Yemen.

Oct. 19-21 – 1973:  Arab boycott of oil exports to U.S. after outbreak of Arab-Israeli War.

Oct. 23 – 1983:  241 U.S. Marines killed by suicide truck bomb in barracks in Lebanon.

 

No doubt, there are other “great moments” in terrorist history.  For an attack specifically on New York City, Oct. 1st would be the probably date.  The Islamists have vowed to attack other cities as well.  However, New York holds a special place in their hollow hearts.

 

Slamming planes into buildings gives them great shock value and enormous media exposure.  But if they wanted to wreak serious, long-term chaos, buildings aren’t the ideal target.  As horrible and anguishing as the attack on the World Trade Center, the destruction of the building itself only affected the immediate area.

 

Granted, the area was the financial district.  The disruption, at most, lasted about two months, altogether.  All the financial firms have redundant, back offices in other cities.  For the terrorists, while they hate America, it’s the Jews they despise and want to wipe from the face of the Earth, and New York is home to the largest single population of Jews in the world, outstripping even Israel itself.

 

They work in New York City, but largely, they live on Long Island, although a fair number also live north of the City and in New Jersey.  To kill them all, they’d need to attack on a weekday when these people are at work and the destruction would have to be widespread.  In 2001, they didn’t have the capability.

 

To really create chaos and cause long-term disruption, if not death, they would have needed to attack a main artery, a main supply line into the city and farther into Long Island.  That’s why they initially planned to attack the Lincoln and Holland Tunnels in 1993, the main arteries into Manhattan itself.  The only artery for trucks heading to Long Island is the George Washington Bridge.

 

Trucks can cross the Verrazzano-Narrows Bridge.  But once they cross that bridge, there’s nowhere for them to go.  The roads in the area are crossed by underpasses that are too low for modern trucks.  That makes the GW the only truck artery into the city.  For you Chris Christie bashers, that’s why there’s always such a delay on the GW.  It’s like that every morning heading into the city, although especially on Mondays and Tuesdays – especially Tuesdays – when the trucks coming the farthest distance from the West reach the bridge.

 

Get the picture?

 

A normal traffic jam, whether caused by congestion, accidents, or governor’s aides, can wreak a full day’s worth of chaos on the metropolitan area. Imagine what would happen if that bridge were taken down.  No food or supplies for the mainly Jewish residents and businesses on Long Island.  Oh eventually the supplies would reach them.  But trucks would have to drive between between 20 and 30 miles out of their way to reach the Tappan Zee Bridge to the north.

 

Or they’d have to brave the Lincoln and Holland Tunnels, assuming they were in commission.  And then these tractor-trailer trucks would have to navigate through Manhattan and take one of the bridges across the East River, causing more delays.  If the tunnels were taken out, the city and Long Island would basically be in siege mode.  And New England, to the north, really isn’t known for its agriculture.

 

What’s Obama going to do about it?  Absolutely nothing.  If the terrorists blow up that bridge, he’ll simply have another one erected and dedicate it to same favorite hero of the social justice cause.  Martin Luther King Jr.  Malcolm X.  Or himself.  They renamed the bridge between Manhattan, Queens and the Bronx – the Triboro Bridge – after Robert F. Kennedy.  That’s what Communists have always done.  After they’ve conquered a country, they tear down the statues and erect statues to their own heroes.  Come to think of it, the Muslims do the same thing.  Maybe they’ll rename the GW the Osama Bin Laden Bridge.

 

This is why there’s no strategy to deal with ISIS.  Obama’s making all the presidential motions, now that it’s too late.  He’s making friends with British Prime Minister David Cameron when it’s already too late.  The stolen airliners are out of the hangar, as it were, and the one-way pilots have filed their own flight plans for whatever cities they intend to target, London being the presumed primary target.  We in America may not have to worry about the 9/11 date.

 

But tourists planning to take a gander at Big Ben or visit Buckingham Palace or ride the London Eye had better be prepared.  The Tower of London isn’t the same kind of tower as the Twin Towers.  Still, it’s a landmark.  That’s what the terrorists originally called their 1993 plot – The Landmarks Plot.  It was also referred to as the Ring of Fire plot, Manhattan being an island, their original ambitions included all of Manhattan’s tunnels and bridges.  Apparently, they just didn’t have the willing manpower or the know-how to pull it all off all at once.

 

Obama’s laconic response to ISIS’ threat did nothing to inspire confidence in our ability to protect Europe, Great Britain – or ourselves. 

 

According to Fox News, “Obama has been under pressure from members of Congress to broaden the U.S. offensive against ISIS. That criticism increased last week when Obama admitted that ‘we don’t have a strategy yet’ to address the militant group in Syria, and deepened when the president first said that his goal was to ‘degrade and destroy’ ISIS Wednesday, before changing tone and saying that he thought the U.S. could make ISIS a ‘manageable problem’ if American forces were part of an international coalition. 

 

That’s when the Administration called in the JB team – Joe Biden – to give a rousing speech about how his America will react after ISIS finishes with us.  Obama’s speech the previous day was almost mechanical by comparison.  He was going through the motions, mouthing the words.  You have to read his 1995 biography, Dreams from My Father, to know what he really thinks about Europe, Great Britain and its colonial history.

 

In the book, Obama describes the flight to Kenya from Great Britain.  The British passenger next to him.  He bemoans the racial policies of South Africa but then says to Obama, “But then the rest of Africa’s falling apart now, isn’t it?  Least from what I can tell.  The blacks in South Africa aren’t starving to death like they do in some of those Godforsaken countries.  Don’t envy them, mind you but compared to some poor bugger in Ethiopia…”

 

Obama (with the help of ghostwriter Bill Ayers) continues the story.

 

“I pulled out a book from my carry-on bag and tried to read.  It was a portrait of several African countries written by a Western journalist who’d spent a decade in Africa; an old Africa hand, h would be called, someone who apparently prided himself on [his] balanced assessment.  The book’s first few chapters discussed the history of colonialism at some length; the manipulation of tribal hatreds and the caprice of colonial boundaries, the displacements, the detentions, the indignities large and small.  The early heroism of independence figures like Kenyatta and Nkrumah was duly noted, their later drift toward despotism attributed at least in part to various Cold War machinations.”

 

“But by the book’s third chapter, images from the present had begun to outstrip the past.  Famine, disease, the coups and counter-coups led by illiterate young men wielding AK-47s like shepherd sticks – if Africa had a history, the writer seemed to say, the scale of current suffering had rendered such history meaningless.”

 

“Poor buggers.  Godforsaken countries.”

 

“I set the book down, feeling a familiar anger flush through me, an anger all the more maddening for its lack of a clear target.  Beside me, the young Brit was snoring softly now, his glasses askew on his fin-shaped nose.  Was angry at him?  I wondered.  Was it his fault that, for all my education, all the theories in my possession, I had had no ready answers to the questions he’d posed?”

 

The trouble with this paragraph is that the British passenger never asked Barack any questions.  He only made observations about the plight of African and its denizens.  So we skip over a sentence or two.

 

“Maybe I was just angry because of his easy familiarity with me, his assumption that I, as an American, even a black American, might naturally share his dim view of Africa; an assumption that in his world at least marked a progress of sorts, but that for me only underscored my own uneasy status:  a Westerner not entirely at home in the West, an African on his way to a land full of strangers.”

 

“I’d been feeling this way all through my stay in Europe – edgy, defensive, hesitant with strangers.  I hadn’t planned it that way.  I had thought of the layover there as nothing more than a whimsical detour, an opportunity to visit places I had never been before.  For three weeks I had traveled alone, down one side of the continent and up the other, by bus and by train mostly, a guidebook in hand.  I took tea by the Thames and watched children chase each other through the chestnut groves of Luxembourg Garden.  I crossed the Plaza Major at high noon, with its De Chirico shadows and sparrows swirling across cobalt skies; and watched night fall over the Palatine, waiting for the first stars to appear, listening to the wind and its whispers of mortality.”

 

How poetic of him.

 

“And by the end of the first week or so, I realized that I’d made a mistake.  It wasn’t that Europe wasn’t beautiful; everything was just as I’d imagined it.  It just wasn’t mine.  I felt as if I were living out someone else’s romances; the incompleteness of my own history stood between me and the sites I saw like a hard plane of glass.  I began to suspect that my European stop was just one more means of delay, one more attempt to avoid coming to terms with the Old Man [whom Obama learned from a half-sister was not the idol he had envisioned].  Stripped of language, stripped of work and routine – stripped even of the racial obsessions to which I’d become so accustomed and which I had taken (perversely) as a sign of my own maturation – I had been forced to look inside myself and had found only a great emptiness there.”

 

Sigh.

 

“Would this trip to Kenya finally fill that emptiness?  The folks back in Chicago thought so.  It’ll be just like Roots, Will had said at my going-away party.  A pilgrimage, Asante had called it.  For them, as for me, Africa had become an idea more than an actual place, a new promised land, full of ancient traditions and sweeping vistas, noble struggles and talking drums.  With the benefit of distance, we engaged Africa in a selective embrace – the same sort of embrace I’d once offered the Old Man.  What would happen once I relinquished that distance?  It was nice to believe that the truth would somehow set me free.  What if that was wrong?  What if the truth only disappointed, and my father’s death meant nothing, and his leaving me behind meant nothing, and only tie that bound me to him, or to Africa, was a name, a blood type, or white people’s scorn?”

 

He thinks of an African he’d met while traveling in Spain.

 

“What was his name?  I couldn’t remember now; just another hungry man far away from home, one of the many children of former colonies – Algerians, West Indians, Pakistanis – now breaching the barricades of their former masters, mounting their own ragged, haphazard invasion.  And yet, as we walked toward the Ramblas, I had felt as if I knew him as well as any man; that, coming from opposite ends of the earth, we were somehow making the same journey.”

 

That should give you as good idea as can be posted in a brief blog (that’s supposed to be short) of Obama’s real mindset.  The book is filled with such images and opinions about Great Britain, Western Europe (the West), and white people.

 

No wondered he delivered his invective against ISIS’ threat to Europe in such a colorless, passionless monotone.  Even though his own grandfather, Onyango, became a self-made man thanks to British influence and a British education.

 

Blow up, or ram a plane into, the Statue of Liberty (which was originally conceived of as a gift to America in observance of Abraham Lincoln’s death)?  As far as Obama is concerned, America deserves such an attack, even though he admits that America has never actually engaged in British-style imperialism.  Our capitalist culture, in his view, is just as bad.  With the Statue of Liberty gone, he’d soon erect another statue to Karl Marx.

 

That’s the real nature of our “president.”  That’s the “transformation” he’s always had in mind for America:  into a Communist state.  Read his autobiography for yourself.  While you can.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Published in: on September 4, 2014 at 2:15 pm  Leave a Comment  

Obama’s Non-Strategy for ISIS

Two American journalists have been beheaded.  Eleven commercial airliners have been stolen from the airport in Tripoli, Libya.  ISIS stormed the abandoned U.S. Embassy in Tripoli and threw a pool party.

 

Summer is over, “Mr. Obama,” and you’re the President of the United States of Abdication.

 

Now that you’ve played your last round of golf for the summer, do you think you could come up with a strategy before we celebrate yet another new 9/11 anniversary?  If you’ll remember, the consulate annex in Tripoli was attacked on 9/11/2012.  The Islamic terrorists gave full warning that they were going to “celebrate” the 9/11 anniversary back in 2012.

 

So what did you do?  After it happened, you made a brief statement in the Rose Garden about some stupid cartoon video then jetted off for Vegas.  In Congressional hearings, your then-Secretary of State, Hillary Clinton, asked, “What difference does it make?”

 

You “promised” you would get our soldiers out of Iraq and you did.  Only, you forgot to bring back our military equipment.  The Pentagon conveniently left it behind, claiming that it was too expensive to repatriate your Abrams tanks.  Now ISIS is joy-riding around in them and using our artillery in their wars against the governments of Iraq and Syria.

 

Belatedly, you vowed to respond to these attacks by ISIS, meaning more military expenses and more dead Americans, the very thing you promised wouldn’t happen.  If you’d done your job right the first time, and actually made sure we’d won in Iraq before leaving, these actions wouldn’t be necessary.

 

Now there are eleven commercial airliners missing.  Initially, the number was 12, but evidently when some journalists with better memories realized that was the same number of jetliners Khalid Sheikh Mohammed had intended to use on 9/11, the number was changed.  By the way, what’s the news on his trial? Never mind.

 

No matter the number of airliners.  Eleven would be a satisfying number to ISIS.  Your vows to be more aggressive with ISIS is like closing the barn door after the camel has gotten out.  You’ve managed to do everything wrong, in every way, and not just regarding foreign policy, either.   After six years in office,  it’s become mighty difficult to believe your “mistakes” (not that you ever admit to making any, and that’s because they actually aren’t mistakes, but deliberate, conscious acts of treason) are the result of inexperience, bad luck, or even incompetence.  You have a “strategy” all right; it’s just not the strategy a President of the United States who loves his country and wants to defend freedom would employ.

 

You have managed to remember that next Thursday is September 11th, we hope?  We know 13 years is ancient history to you and your progressive/liberal minions.  If hadn’t been bad manners even for the likes of you to cheer on the fact that approximately 2,700 “Capitalists” died when the Twin Towers of Capitalism were brought down, you would be hailing 9/11 as a victory.

 

You can’t exactly do that, though, can you?  The best your Democrat lackeys – with Hillary in the lead – could manage was getting former Pres. George W. Bush banned from Ground Zero, even though he had no hand in the 9/11 attacks (and I’m probably the one person in the world who can say that with total confidence, so don’t try me).

 

Thanks to your hand in destabilizing Libya, the Islamic group ISIS now has their very own fleet of airliners.  That means they don’t have to hijack anyone else’s.  They don’t need fake drivers’ licenses. They don’t have to box-cutter any hapless stewardesses or knife any pilots.  They don’t need to politically-correct their way through U.S. customs or security.

 

God only knows what cargo they’ll be carrying on these flights.  How many people are going to die this 9/11, Mr. “President”?  And if it happens (God forbid), are you, or your Secretary of State, going to ask us what difference it makes?

 

A friend of ours sent their daughter here to New York City to go to college.  He’s the type of guy who knows people.  I hope he’s talking to those people (and I hope they’re listening).  If anything is up (like the threat level) I hope he lets us know by Wednesday so we have time to get her back out of the city before the river crossings are closed (or blown up).  He hasn’t been here in years so he might not remember our prevailing winds are westerly (which puts the progeny in the wrong place if it’s the wrong time).  Big Brother will scoff and Little Brother just lost his driver’s license, so I’m your man, Dad.   Just say the word and I’ll be on the road. 

 

Nobody believed 9/11/01 would happen.  No one believed 9/11/12 would happen.  No one believed Obama was going to be not only a bad president, but a bad dude who hates America.  Really, people.  He hates our country.  It’s not that he loves America and that he just has a different idea about America, as D’nesh D’Souza suggests in his book (much as I’ve loved reading it, so far).

 

No way.  There’s only one America.  There’s only ever been one America.  That America stands for freedom, liberty, free trade, pursuit of happiness, freedom of speech, freedom to defend ourselves, freedom to worship as we please, and legal justice (not social justice, which means equal outcomes) for all.

 

That’s not what Obama stands for and if he doesn’t stand for those things, then he doesn’t stand for the United States of America and there is no argument that can be twisted that will prove that he does.

 

You have seven days to wake up America, and that’s probably seven days already too late.  If you live in the New York City metropolitan area, you already know the drill from 9/11/2001.  Get those emergency kits ready for whatever side of the rivers (Hudson or East) you’re stuck on.  If you know you’re going to be stuck on the Long Island side, make those motel reservations now.  Figure on central L.I.

 

If you know you’re going to be in Manhattan next Thursday – for goodness’ sake, reschedule your calendar.

 

As for you denizens of other cities, you people in Washington, D.C., Chicago, Los Angeles, and San Francisco probably have the most to worry about (Chicago, because it has the tallest tower in the U.S.; Los Angeles, because you send nude pictures of one another out into the ether; San Francisco, well, you must know what Muslims think of you by now; and D.C.  Actually, I have no sympathy for you whatsoever – go to work on 9/11, by all means).  Work from home that day and have your generators ready.  When Mohammed Atta & Company attacked Lower Manhattan in 2001, that area was without power for a considerable length of time.  Which means you’re going to need back-up power for your laptops; your laptop batteries are only good for about four hours.

 

Let’s see what happens.

 

And the next time you yahoos have a chance to vote in a primary – if you ever have another chance – please do the rest of us a favor, and vote.  Or move to Russia, where it really doesn’t matter.

 

Vlad will be glad to introduce you to Communism, you lazy lumps of larder.  That is, if Obama doesn’t beat him to it.  But what do you care?

 

Happy 9/11 – and good luck.

 

 

.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Published in: on September 3, 2014 at 4:59 pm  Leave a Comment