There was a time when I believed words might make a difference. When I believed that Republicans in Washington might have a spine and do more than mouth conservative platitudes. I wrote for a fine gentleman named Jim Sparkman’s site called Chronwatch.com, originally set up to point out the liberal bias of the San Francisco Chronicle. I wrote borrowing the name of a wonderful writer who penned marvelous stories of hope and courage and invention and American exceptionalism, himself using the house pen name of Kenneth Robeson to write most of the Doc Savage novels. I wrote about Kerry and the Swift vets, and I wrote about Obama before the 2008 election cycle. Then I frankly lost faith with the American people because they could not see through someone who made it plain in his own words, through his own books, what he was and what he wanted to do to America.
All these words have disappeared down the internet memory hole, perhaps for the best. After moves and hard drive crashes I probably can’t locate them myself. Probably don’t want to.
Just like Osama Bin Laden, Obama did not hide what he wanted to do or who he was. (And no, I’m not saying Obama is like Osama Bin Laden, silly; I am saying they have this one thing in common, like oranges and clay may both be orange but otherwise are dissimilar.) All you had to do was listen to what he said and take him at his word. But, just like Obama said in his autobiography, people saw in him what they wanted to see in him. And now people are shocked, shocked! that he is the person he said he was in his books and is doing the things he said he would do while on his campaign. And Republicans in Washington are mouthing the same platitudes, and ganging up against those who dare to offer ideas and take actions against the status quo (i.e., actions that might imperil the re-election chances of those multi-term congress critters).
I’ve moved from California. I’m not retired, but I have more time to think and write and be quarrelsome. When not working and ruining people’s lives as a lawyer, or shooting at trespassers with my wife from our porch in our rocking chairs, I may write a bit. Or not. It’s up to me. Pure vanity. I won’t tell you what I had for breakfast, or post picture’s of myself (you’re welcome). But I may from time to time throw out some thoughts that, if anyone stumbles across them, may piss people off. Good.