It Was Just A Matter of Time

NOTE: This article contains very racially charged comments.  They are not racial slurs inasmuch as they are point-blank descriptions with very little regard for how they are perceived.  If you are offended by pointing out the obvious, then perhaps it is better that you not read this article.

They always stick together.  No matter the venue or the perceived offense, blacks will always stick together.  Remember back when Bill Cosby was telling everyone that problems in the black community will never go away until blacks start taking responsibility for their actions?  Well, now it seems the tables have turned with Mr. Cosby and the once outspoken advocate of personal responsibility among blacks is now coming to the rescue of one of his own who is constantly under attack not so much for the person's race as his own incompetence.  Mr. Cosby is none too happy with the criticisms that have been laid down hard on the man currently impersonating the president of the United States.

This writer's (and most Americans as well) personal disgust with Mr. 0bama has nothing to do with his interracial ethnicity.  This writer's disgust with Mr. 0bama is deeply rooted in Mr. 0bama's ineptness, incompetence and gross arrogance -- all traits that are equally applicable to any member of the human race (North Korea's recently deceased Kim Jong-il and Iranian's Mahmoud Ahmadinejad are two non-blacks who possess those same traits).  Let's put some facts out here and see just where 0bama has missed the boat.

Mr. 0bama ascended to his current throne of authority on January 20, 2009, however, he was the LAST of the pieces put into place by the George Soros-led liberal movement in an attempt to socialize the United States of America and put into place a Hitleresque method of genetically cleansing those in America who might stand opposed to socialism under the guise of health care reform.

Prior to 0bama's coronation, on January 3, 2007, liberal Democrats took majority control of both the House of Representatives and the Senate, at the very start of the 110th Congress.

The Democrat Party controlled a majority in both chambers for the first time since the end of the 103rd Congress in 1995.

For those who are listening to the liberals propagating the fallacy that everything is "Bush's Fault", think about this:  January 3rd, 2007 was the day the Democrats took over the Senate and the Congress.

At the time:

The DOW Jones closed at 12,621.77
The GDP for the previous quarter was 3.5%
The Unemployment rate was 4.6%

George Bush's Economic policies SET A RECORD of 52 STRAIGHT MONTHS of JOB GROWTH!

January 3rd, 2007 was the day that Barney Frank took over the House Financial Services Committee and Chris Dodd took over the Senate Banking Committee.

The economic meltdown that happened 15 months later was in what part of the economy?
BANKING AND FINANCIAL SERVICES!

Unemployment... to this CRISIS by (among MANY other things) dumping 5-6 TRILLION Dollars of toxic loans on the economy from YOUR Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac FIASCOES!

Bush asked Congress 17 TIMES to stop Fannie & Freddie - starting in 2001 because it was financially risky for the US economy.

And who took the THIRD highest pay-off from Fannie Mae AND Freddie Mac? 0bama

And who fought against reform of Fannie and Freddie?  0bama and the Democrat Congress

Budgets do not come from the White House. They come from Congress and the party that controlled Congress since January 2007 is the Democrat Party.  Furthermore, the Democrats controlled the budget process for 2008 & 2009 as well as 2010 &2011.  In that first year, they had to contend with George Bush, which caused them to compromise on spending, when Bush somewhat belatedly got tough on spending increases.

For 2009 though, Nancy Pelosi & Harry Reid bypassed George Bush entirely, passing continuing resolutions to keep government running until the coronation of his royal highness, Barack 0bama. At that time, they passed a massive omnibus spending bill to complete the 2009 budgets.

And where was Barack 0bama during this time? He was a member of that very Congress that passed all of these massive spending bills, and he signed the omnibus bill as President to complete 2009, however, he spent more time on the campaign trail lobbying to become the first Dictator of America than he did in his Illinois senate seat.

If the Democrats inherited any deficit, it was the 2007 deficit, the last of the Republican budgets. That deficit was the lowest in five years, and the fourth straight decline in deficit spending. After that, Democrats in Congress took control of spending, and that includes Barack 0bama, who voted for the budgets.

If 0bama inherited anything, he inherited it from himself. In a nutshell, what 0bama is saying is I inherited a deficit that I voted for and then I voted to expand that deficit four-fold since January 20th.

So the next time some arrogant, self-centered, entitlement-minded, lazy, welfare-receiving black bastard stands in front of you and tells you "we know what's going on" you can smile quietly to yourself knowing that those people are just as stupid as they look standing in the welfare line waiting for their checks.  You will also have the satisfaction of knowing that they all stick together -- even Bill Cosby -- because it's always going to be considered racist to speak the truth about blacks in general and their Messiah, his royal highness, the Doofus Dictator himself, Barack Hussein "Barry Soetoro" 0bama.

Blacks don't get it.  They were sold into slavery by their own kind in Africa and they were brought out of slavery by the blood of white men...yet they still think white people are the skunks of the earth.  Jesse Jackson and Al Sharpton make millions of dollars every year perpetuating the lie that white people are the oppressors when the truth is it is people like Jackson and Sharpton who are keeping blacks oppressed through their lies and their lobbying for increases in welfare aid and such racist programs as "Affirmative Action"...it's no coincidence that "affirmative action" and "african-American" begin with the same two letters: AA.

It is time for white Americans to stand up and stop letting blacks walk all over us in the name of keeping the peace.  They do it because they know they can get away with it.  They sold the whites who actually voted for 0bama a "get out of guilt free" card knowing full well that once 0bama was in office, he was going to bend every white person in this country over a railing and ass-rape them with a wooden broom handle.  It's all a revenge ploy by people who are not entitled to it against people who do not deserve to receive it.

When you go to the polls in November 2012, ask yourself one question:

Are you financially better off than you were four years ago?

Judgment Day

I can’t tell you how much I hate arrogant people.  What really stinks, of course, is when arrogance accompanies possession of a firearm then when you add a badge to that arrogance you’re just asking for trouble.  If you don’t believe me, ask Deputy Anna Myers.  Oh, wait, you can’t ask her, she’s dead.  To tell you the truth, I really don’t care that she’s dead.  She got what she deserved.  She wasn’t exactly the world’s most honorable cop.  In fact, she was downright dirty and it was a matter of time before her world came crashing down around her.  I encountered her when she was assigned to work the courts as a bailiff.  It was a cool October morning when I walked into a courtroom with my client.  My client was there to fight a red-light camera ticket.  Just as my client was about to be called before the judge I dropped my pen on the floor.  I bent down to pick it up and Deputy Myers took this opportunity to eject me from the room.  Now I grant you that a judge in a courtroom is one of the last remaining dictatorial monarchies in the United States, but for the bailiff to eject me from a court room over a stupid pen…well, that’s going way beyond absurd.

Now, like I said, Deputy Myers is dead but rest assured that I had nothing to do with her demise.  I’ve always been of the opinion that true revenge belongs to God, but sometimes, he allows you to watch.  You may be thinking that wanting revenge on an idiot deputy over something as stupid as throwing someone out of a courtroom is rather petty on my part, and you’re right, it is – but there is something to be said for being allowed to watch a stupid person get what’s coming to her.

The day she threw me out of the courtroom there was another person in that room as well who was also there to fight a traffic ticket.  He wasn’t nearly as well dressed as most of the rest of us in that room.  I knew that he wasn’t someone I wanted to invest time in getting to know.  But when everyone had been through the ringer with the judge, he came waddling out of the room and walked straight up to me.

“Hey, mac, I saw that self-righteous bailiff throw you out of the courtroom.”

“Yeah,” I replied, “she apparently didn’t think too highly of me dropping a pen on the floor, huh?”  I hoped that would be the end of the story.  But he kept on talking.

“How would you like to see something bad happen to her?”

“Uh, no.  I’m good.  She was the idiot, I did nothing wrong.”

“Exactly,” the man said, “you did nothing wrong.  She treated you like a spot of dog mess on her shoe.  You didn’t deserve to have that happen.  No one deserves to be treated like that – even by the likes of her.”

“Listen, I appreciate that you want to help me out, but as an officer of the court, I can’t let you do that.  I can’t be tied to anything bad that happens to anybody.”

“That’s the beauty of all of this.  You don’t need to know anything.  Culpable deniability – I’ll take the heat and the wrap, you get your revenge on a cop who thinks she’s better than you.”

“No!” I restated firmly and loudly enough that others might hear it.  The echo of my voice in the hallway made me look around.  I realized there was no one around to hear.  It hadn’t dawned on me that the hallway was empty.  I began to wonder how long it had been that way.  It didn’t matter.  I wasn’t about to be party to anything no matter how much a part of me desperately wanted to choke that deputy.  My partner in conversation simply looked at me with no expression on his face.  He leaned a little closer to me and whispered,

“If you change your mind, I’ll be at the corner of Palmdale Road and Amargosa Road there’s a little restaurant there.  We can talk.”

“I won’t be there.” I said to him.  The truth of the matter is I really wasn’t interested and I didn’t bother to show up either.  But it’s amazing how something like this comes back to haunt you.

The date for my client’s appearance before the judge was three weeks away.  In that time I procured every piece of case law, prior case ruling and everything else I could find on these red light cameras.  I was going to help my client beat this thing because I don’t believe cities ought to have the right to utilize such surveillance methods on drivers and I was going to do my part to make sure they became so ineffective they would be taken down permanently.

My client and I walked into the courtroom and sure enough, there stood the same deputy from before.  I had resolved in my mind that I wasn’t going to say one single word until spoken to.  The man who had offered to help me out was also in the room.  He did not acknowledge my presence – I was grateful for that, but I couldn’t help watching him out of the corner of my eye.  He made no moves and he did nothing out of the ordinary.  I started to think that maybe I had dreamed the whole thing, but I wasn’t sure.  But what happened next was beyond anything I’d ever seen before.

The bailiff called the man up to the table to address the judge.  In most of these kinds of trials, there are no juries.  It’s just you, the cop and the judge.  I’ve seen these kinds of things drag on for hours as defendants go through all kinds of logic to get out of a speeding ticket.  In the end, though, most of them end up paying the fine and walking out.  Of course the cop who wrote the ticket also walks out of the room with a smug, arrogant smile on his face because no matter what most people try, they’re not lawyers and they don’t know how to defend themselves against traffic tickets.  Most could be beat if the person would just do a little research on the Internet nowadays, but people hope the judge will feel sorry for them and let them go.  Not likely to happen and rarely does it ever.  I can think of only one time I saw someone beat a red light ticket and didn’t have to say a word in her defense.  Her ticket got thrown out because the photograph taken by the camera didn’t show enough of the driver’s face for anyone to be certain it was her.  Judging by her reaction, I don’t think that defendant thought about that as she was getting ready to face the judge.  But I digress.

The man calmly walked up to the table and stood before the judge.  The bailiff raised her hand and demanded the man do the same.  He did and allowed himself to be sworn in.  But before the bailiff lowered her hand, the look on her face turned to complete horror.  The judge looked at her and said, “bailiff, can we move forward?”

The woman replied, “Your honor, I can’t move my hand!”

The judge looked at the defendant and said, “Are you doing something to my bailiff?”

“No your honor.” He said calmly.  “What would make you think I was doin’ something to her?”

Suddenly, the bailiff turned around and faced the judge.  Her hand began to slowly reach for the gun on her hip.  She pulled it from its holster and pointed it at the judge.  “Your honor,” she said in a voice that didn’t seem to be hers, “you will dismiss every case on your docket right now and drop all charges against everyone in this room or I will personally see to it that you never walk out of here.”

“Deputy Myers!” the judge shouted.  “Put down your weapon now!”

We all watched as the bailiff moved her hand and pulled the trigger of her gun.  The plaster rendition of the state seal hanging on the wall behind the judge shattered into several pieces and fell to the floor.  I couldn’t see it for myself, but I believe the judge messed himself pretty well at that moment.  The deputy repeated her order and without any further hesitation, he handed the stack of folders to the clerk and instructed her to begin processing them as cases dismissed.  Of course discharging a firearm inside a courthouse isn’t going to go completely unnoticed.  As you might expect, six or seven deputies burst through the door of the court room.  All of them had their guns pointed at the deputy.  She didn’t turn around.  Everyone in the room was on the floor.  Most of the women in the room were crying.  The man who approached me was still standing calmly next to the bailiff.  From where I was, I could see her face.  It had gone from sheer terror to one of pleading.  Tears were beginning to roll down her face and she was clearly crying.  It was also obvious that something was controlling her and it wasn’t her.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered through the tears.  Suddenly without any warning, she quickly turned the gun, pointed it at her temple and pulled the trigger.  I watched shocked at what I had just seen.  It was like a train wreck – too horrible to look away but too horrible to watch.  It was as if everything went into slow motion.  As soon as she pulled the trigger, I knew she was dead.  I watched her body begin to fall to the floor.  At the same time, without warning the six other deputies fired riddling her with more bullets.  It was too late when they realized she shot herself.

Hours later, after I gave my statement to the deputies making their report it was brought to light that Deputy Myers wasn’t the squeaky clean officer everyone thought.  As much as the sheriff’s department hated to admit it, she was the coordinator of a drug and human sex trafficking ring through that part of the state.  It had been going on for some time and investigators from the DEA, FBI and the sheriff’s department had been closing in on her.  Some said that she found out just that morning that she was going to be arrested that day.  Others weren’t so sure.  Some who were in the courtroom that day thought the man was somehow connected to her demise.  I was there and I don’t know for sure.  I never saw him do anything that I could consider controlling her.  I poked around the clerk’s office myself and never found the case file for the man.  I asked around if anyone remembered seeing him and no one could.  It was as if he disappeared off the face of the earth after that event.  To this day I wonder just who that man was.  Was he an angel of death?  Was he God Almighty himself come to exact punishment on someone who took advantage of the trust of others?  Or was he the devil playing out an evil plot and death was the price the deputy paid for selling her soul? Like I said, I’m not sure.  But you’ll have to excuse me, I have to go now.  An important phone call just came through.

“Hello, Mr. Serling, what can I do for you?”

Mansion on the Bluff

The house stood empty at the end of the road.  It was tall, broad, white, ostentatious and expensive.  Behind it lie twelve acres of open land containing a large swimming pool and two guest houses.  The whole estate sat proudly on top of a large bluff overlooking the Atlantic Ocean.  It was built with “old money” back in the days when there were the “haves” and the “have nots”.  New York was home to lots of old money.  Families like the Morgans and Rockefellers established large families on even larger estates out away from the hustle and bustle of New York City.  Long Island gave many people a peaceful respite from the filthy crowded streets of Manhattan.

It was no secret that the house hosted many parties during the Great Depression.  Dignitaries from all over would drive to the eastern end of Long Island just to hob-nob with other rich friends.  It was a time when even the ultra-rich only held millions of dollars.  The concept of a billionaire was almost completely unheard of when the parties were going on atop the majestic bluff.  That was a title reserved for those whose names often followed titles such as “his royal highness”.

The house was said to have inspired one of the Great Depression’s greatest novels.  The author reportedly attended several parties at the mansion on the bluff.  The dinners there were unmatched by any estate east of the Mississippi River.  People from as far away as Washington, D.C. would come to the parties at the big house at the end of the road.  The cars – Dusenbergs, Rolls Royces, Cadillacs among the finer rides – would begin arriving at the front gate around four in the afternoon despite the invitations specifically stating that the gates would open promptly at five and not one minute before.  The cars would line the road with the owners sitting quietly in the shade of the majestic oak trees patiently waiting for the chance to be first through the gate and in the receiving line.  It was often said that the host would spend more time with those whose names were among the first six announced.  The host never wanted to spoil the illusion of favoritism toward the first arrivals though he could tell time down to the second without a watch and spent exactly the same amount of time with everyone.

Dinner’s first course would arrive before the guests at exactly six o’clock.  Anyone not seated by then was forced to wait until the next course before being seated.  There were rarely ever tardies – and those often occurred if it happened to be raining.  But the host was gracious enough to allow for inclement weather and would hold serving by fifteen minutes on days when tardies were possible.

Often the first course was a meal in and of itself.  No fewer than fifteen pheasants-under-glass were served for the dinner guests, who often numbered well over one hundred.  The dinners lasted three hours and included between five and seven courses.  Guests were always invited to take as much food as they wanted but were admonished to eat all they took.

Dinner would end promptly at nine.  Dishes were collected quickly – even from those who had not finished eating.  The host would stand and invite everyone into the ballroom where a live orchestra was waiting to play dance music deep into the night.  Periodically well-known bands were featured during the after-dinner gala.  Attendees were treated to the sounds of the Glenn Miller Orchestra or Woody Herman.  Les Brown and His Band of Renown was a party favorite.  Only once did Guy Lombardo perform for the guests – the New Year’s Eve before his annual favorite Auld Lang Syne became the international hit it is today.  It was said that he debuted his version of the old Scottish tune in the ballroom of the mansion on the bluff.

In his later years, the host became a less frequent guest at his own parties.  He reveled in the sounds of the people happily chatting away at dinner and then the music and laughter afterward but his illness kept him confined to his bedroom.  The design of the mansion allowed him to stand outside on a private balcony and watch the party without having to actually make the long walk from his bedroom to the ballroom.  A veranda outside the ballroom made summer parties much more pleasant.  The doors from the ballroom would open completely and the sounds of the featured orchestra would float out across the bluff and out onto the Atlantic.

From the early 1920’s and through the Great Depression, the people would come and dine and dance.  One cool late-fall evening, dancers partied into the night laughing and holding on to each other, not completely sure why they did not want to let go.  The music had always stopped at midnight, but for some reason, no one wanted to leave.  Even the host sent word from his room that the band was allowed to continue and that the revelers did not have to leave.  There was an air around the mansion on the bluff that meant something big was going to happen soon.  Those who were there that night would recall years later that they wanted that night to last forever.  Many young women, who attended that evening left weeping, filled with apprehension and fear.  They could not explain it.  Young men left with their stomachs feeling tied in knots, unsure of why going home was undesirable.

When the last car passed the front gate and the orchestra had gone, the host was lying alone in his bed.  Only his servants remained finishing the cleanup of the party.  Finally at about four in the morning, the host announced that he was retiring for the evening and that he was not to be disturbed before noon.  His order did not go unheeded, even as the radio downstairs broadcast the news of the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor.  When the clock chimed the lunch hour, the butler ascended the stairs to wake the host.

Ten minutes later, the butler returned to the servant’s quarters.  It was clear he had been sobbing.  He broke the news to all the servants that the host had passed away in his sleep.  All were thankful that he had not heard the news of the attack signaling America’s entry into the war raging in Europe.  The sudden demise of his weekly dinner parties would have broken his heart.  The butler then picked up the telephone and called for the host’s attorney to come to the house.  Then a phone call to a doctor for the official ruling followed.  Within the hour, word spread all across Long Island that the old man whose majestic mansion stood at the end of the road had passed away.  The mourning was short as young men were shuttled off to Europe and young women filed in to fill the empty spaces in the factories.  War had come to America and now it was time for America to go to work.  The time for frivolity was over.

The war ended four years later and as men returned from Europe, they came home to a changed America.  The feeling was different somehow.  Boys who had boarded troop ships bound for Europe returned as men.  Some had seen action in both theatres.  They would gather and remember those who did not return but even those who had gathered at the mansion on the bluff no longer desired the carefree life they knew before the war.  Some would venture out on Long Island and stop outside the now rusting wrought-iron gates of the mansion.  They would look longingly toward the colonnade that used to greet them then sigh and return to their cars, driving away fondly remembering their younger days.

The house itself stood empty.  When the old man passed away, his will stipulated that everything, including the house itself, was to be sold at auction and the money divided evenly among the servants who had faithfully worked for him as he had no other family.  The servants moved on as millionaires themselves and even after the war they had no problems managing their lives.

A younger family bought the house yet never occupied it.  No reason for their decision was given but sometime in late 1957 the house was for sale again.  By then the house had been unoccupied for sixteen years and was beginning to show its status.  Much of the white paint that had been on the wooden surfaces had cracked and peeled off leaving bare wood exposed to the elements.  After another year on the market, the house was sold again in 1959.  Restoration work began on the property in 1960.  By the following summer the house was once again a gleaming white with black accents.  The grounds were cleared of trash and fresh grass was beginning to grow.  The rusted wrought iron gates were removed and replaced with identical new gates painted a very glossy black.  It looked as if someone were finally going to begin calling the mansion home.

Three months after the restoration was complete, a “for sale” sign once again appeared in front of the stately abode.  In 1962 a family purchased the house and moved in.  They only stayed a short time.  On the morning of November 22, 1963 another for sale sign appeared and by the next day no one was living in the property.  The house stood empty much longer this time.  Two years later, the original for sale sign was replaced with a foreclosure sign and the house again fell into disrepair.

As time passed, the house stood quietly as Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin walked on the moon, an American president was forced to resign, 52 Americans were taken hostage in a foreign country, a space shuttle exploded and the world went back to war with a tyrant in the Middle East.  The economy boomed and the economy went bust but no one dared approach the 32-room sentinel on the bluff.  As the 20^th century came to a close, the house slowly faded to a dingy gray as dirt pummeled the façade and vines began to grow up the sides of the outside walls.

The new century dawned over the bluff and still no one wanted to call the mansion home.  The tragic attack on America that marred the first year of the new century had no effect on the house’s status.  Sometime in 2002, a group of people began to look at the house in a different way.  The group began to study how the house could be converted into a museum.  They wanted to somehow maintain the heritage of America that should be preserved.  As 2002 gave way to 2003 fund-raisers were held to find ways to purchase, restore and open the house to the public to remember America’s past.

At the same time that the preservation group was making its plans, a private developer was working on a plan of his own.  The property was large enough to accommodate 15 single-family homes with at least five acres of land for each house.  The race began to see who would come out the winner.  The preservation group began aggressively promoting the idea of restoring the house and keeping the property as close to how it was during its hey-day during the Great Depression.  The developer was busy looking for investors in the subdivision planned for the seventy-five acres.  Lawyers from both sides filed motion after motion to prevent the other from gaining the upper hand in the process.  The battle raged on for several more years.

The preservation group arrived at the bank that owned the property with money for the purchase and to pay back taxes.  But before the final paperwork was completed, the opposing lawyer walked in with a filing that would trump the whole process.  Three weeks later, the case went to court and in spite of the preservation organization’s fair and square purchase of the property, the sitting judge ruled in favor of the developer.  The preservation group filed an appeal to a higher court.  Again they were denied.  Every step along the way, the preservation group lost their appeals – even to the state supreme court.  The cause was lost.

The next morning, as bulldozers and dump trucks rumbled up the road toward the mansion, the rising sun revealed several thousand people standing in front of the gate.  The convoy of heavy equipment stopped.  People from all over the area had gathered to protest the underhanded method used by the developer to steal the land.  Police were called in and the protesters were forcibly removed from the grounds.  When enough people had been removed, the bulldozer lumbered up the driveway crashing through the gate and did not stop until it was fully buried in the center of the crumbling house.  Additional pieces of heavy equipment made their way into the estate and began destroying the 100-year-old house.  In a matter of a few minutes, a house that had taken a year and a half to build, had hosted numerous parties and sat quietly as the world changed around it was reduced to rubble.  By the end of the week the debris was completely removed and a year later, no trace of the old house remained as twelve brand new smaller mansions stood empty, waiting for buyers.

Why Remember Pearl Harbor?

If there were one thing I could go back in history and change, it would not be the bombing of the United States Naval Fleet at Pearl Harbor, Hawaii.

Why is that you ask?

The bombing of Pearl Harbor was the single most defining moment in the history of the United States.  Had it not been for that one event, America would never have coalesced into the strong fighting machine that it became.  With World War II raging all over Europe, it was Franklin Roosevelt’s desire that America not involve itself in that melee.  However, that was not what Hitler wanted.  Hitler wanted a war with the United States but could not justify it.  He hoped to bring down America by forcing it to fight a war on two fronts: Europe and the Pacific.  He believed that by dividing America’s military resources he could defeat America because it would not be able to fight off two attacking forces.  We all know the ultimate conclusion – America went to work and put an end to Hitler and the Japanese Empire.

Many have compared September 11, 2001 as this generation’s Pearl Harbor.  Nothing could be further from the truth.  The events of 9/11/01 did not have the coalescing impact on America that the events of 12/7/41 did.  On December 8, 1941, President Roosevelt identified the enemy of the nation of Japan and with almost unanimous support from Congress and the nation, went to war.  Things played out much differently on 9/12/01.  Even as we were still watching the footage of the Twin Towers in New York, the America-hating, liberal lie machine went into high gear claiming that 9/11 was an “inside job” and that a war against a so-called religious cult was a bad thing.  It was a disgusting indictment on how far America has fallen.

When the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor, Americans knew they were in for a long fight but they were willing to pay any price to maintain their freedom.  The fact that America had to fight the war in two theatres proved even more conclusively that at that time this nation had the resolve and the intestinal fortitude to stand up and fight to keep its freedom regardless of the cost.  When the islamocult attacked New York and Washington, America curled up in a corner whimpering like a whipped puppy.  We have descended into a nation of spineless cowards afraid to fight for anything if it means we can’t have our MTV.  We don’t care about anything so long as we get to sit on our lazy, worthless butts and watch Jersey Shore.  We are more concerned with whether or not Kim Kardashian’s wedding was a farce than we do about our freedoms.

I choose to remember Pearl Harbor for what happened to America after the attack was over.  I choose to remember the men who gave their lives at Pearl Harbor because they stood on those ships and said this nation would not fall on their watch.  I choose to remember Pearl Harbor because the men who went to war to defend this nation from those who attacked Pearl Harbor gave their lives to make sure America would not fall on their watch.

I choose to remember Pearl Harbor because of what it did to and for the people of America in 1941.  It made us a strong nation, a nation that had the guts to stand up for what is right instead of what is popular.

What would those men who died at Pearl Harbor think of us now?