Archive for September 10th, 2005
A doctor will fight day and night against a disease caused by a virus or a particularly deadly form of bacteria.
But it never occurs to him to hate the virus personally.
When Aleksander Solzhenitsyn wrote “The Cancer Ward” about his own battle against cancer, he said “Everyone in the ward just wanted to LIVE. Even the cancer just wants to live.”
You have to be a very old Southerner, and from the Deep South at that, to remember Brother Dave Gardner. One of Brother Dave’s many classic sayings was, “Jesus was right. You should LOVE your enemies. It’ll drive ‘em NUTS.”
Hatred is like a duel. Robert E. Lee would never have fought a duel with a hunk of white trash. He would ignore him or take a whip to him, but he would NEVER duel with one of them.
You do not HATE a virus. You do not HATE a cancer or a bacterium. If you were in a hospital foaming at the mouth about the personal biases of the virus that was getting you the doctor would assume your temperature was out of sight and you were delirious.
There is an old joke that contains a lot of wisdom and is therefore banned by Political Correctness. And old black man is offended by a younger black man and says,
“You know, our race is divided into three groups. There are colored people, the better class, and then are niggahs, the general run of the population.”
“Down at the bottom are the real trash, the coons.”
“Niggah, you is a COON.”
In other words, this offensive black guy was to him what a hunk of white trash was to General Lee.
Below I had an article called “A Conscience of His Own” about a black writer named Levy who used the most viciously insulting terms he could think of to describe the blacks who acted like savages in New Orleans. He took their behavior as a personal insult to himself, the way I take it personally when a white Southerner is a traitor.
That is REAL hatred. To repeat, real hatred is like a duel.
What drives minorities up the wall about old bigots like me is that they know that I do NOT hate them.
To me, the “niggahs” of New Orleans were acting like a bunch of coons. I would cheerfully shoot them down with exactly as much compunction as I would kill a cancer.
But HATE them? HATE a cancer? You’ve got to be kidding!
But for Levy, a decent black man, this is nothing like what it is to me.
Levy HATES them.
I received this comment:
“Readers of this blog, I’m the liberal Bob is talking about in this post.”
“On page 116 of his book, Bob writes ‘When the words of freedom are used to destroy freedom, it is time for a revolution, and nothing less than a revolution.'”
“Once upon a time, ‘liberalism’ and ‘conservatism’ were both words of freedom in this country. Decent people on Capitol Hill of both persuasions would argue about things up there, and a great country was the result.”
“Nowadays, ‘liberalism’ and ‘conservatism’ are words used to destroy freedom, and the ‘respectable’ standard bearers of both persuasions are just maggots that you can’t tell apart without a scorecard. A real revolution, as Bob implies by his context, means changing the language. That’s what John Locke and John Stuart Mill did. It’s what Mozart and Shakespeare did, too. Bob’s doing the same thing.”
“Just so Bob isn’t doing all the work around here, I’d like to invent a new term myself: the ‘respectable liberal.’ And as a first step toward reviving our democratic republic, Bob and I can have a good, old-fashioned, liberal vs. conservative argument over whether ‘respectable conservative’ really *is* as low as you can get. ”
Anonymous, both breeds are despicable, but don’t miss the important point.
In 1914, an episode occurred that could have prevented the death of over a hundred million people and most of the horrors of the horrific twentieth century. World War I was to lead to the rise of Communism and Nazism.
That War began in the summer of 1914. But by the end of the year it had settled down to the trench warfare and pointless yard-by-yard slaughter that would go on for four years, until a sadistic new world was born.
At Christmas in 1914 the soldiers on both sides emerged from their trenches. They played soccer games together. They sang Christmas carols together. They wondered aloud, “WHY are we doing this?”
For the last time.
The leadership on both sides cracked down. One thing the rulers on both sides agreed on was that soldiers were there to kill each other, not to sing Christmas carols or wonder what they were fighting about.
That was none of their business.
The point is that you and I have come out of our trenches. The black guard I talked about has come out of her trench.
Please note a critical distinction here.
I am not asking what are arguing about. Liberals want some stuff and we want some stuff and blacks want some stuff. That is human nature. I am not asking what we are arguing about.
I am asking what are we FIGHTING about.
What the hell are we doing in these trenches? We all know it’s leading straight to catastrophe.
I’ll tell you why they were in these trenches back in 1914. In World War I there were generals and monarchs and politicians who were fully agreed that we peasants should be killing each other, not asking why.
Today liberal priests, the professor-priesthood, are demanding a war to the death.
Conservative leaders who think they represent traditional religion, the preachers and priests, are demanding a war to the death.
Lenin’s signal for slaughter was the clenched fist. Fascists met the clenched fist with the fascist salute, the “Sieg heil.”
Churchill had his “V” for Victory.
The horror that went with each of those was incalculable.
After I had a part in bringing down the Soviet Union, I had a quiet, personal celebration. I stood on the Moscow River bridge, facing the Kremlin, and, all alone on a winter night, I gave the USSR the finger, the bird.
If the troops coming out of the trenches in 1914 had adopted that salute to the leaders who were killing them, the suffering they would have saved is incalculable.
It is time for a new Christmas of 1914.
It is time for us to show total disrespect for those who want us to fight and not question, professors and preachers alike.
They show their clinched fists and their Sieg Heils and their blasphemous use of the Sign of the Cross. They tell us about the Greatest Generation and give us their “V” for Victory.
We have our own salute.
It is the bird.
It is not an eagle.
It is not a dove.