I watched with interest John Kerry’s appeal to the conscience of America (and perhaps the world) as he revealed the facts (if in fact, they are the facts, excuse me for being a bit cynical of our government) on Ahsad’s use of chemical weapons against his people. I will admit that Kerry’s speech was well written, well spoken and struck a cord with me. I was distracted, however, when he said, and I’m paraphrasing, “We have a president who says what he means and does what he says,” by the roar of laughter that echoed from the Applacians to the rockys as well as from the Atlantic to the Pacific. Someday this president will understand, when he’s rocking away in his study twenty years from know, what it means to take a stand and have the competence to plant his feet solidly and not waver. I won’t hold my breath.
I watch and listen and think and wonder and then watch and listen and think again, seeking hope on hope that this president will reveal something to make me honor him. I keep coming up empty. His speech on the anniversary of Martin Luther King’s “I have a dream” speech had minor moments but was flat and uninspiring. Either you’ve got it or you don’t. Martin Luther King had it. Barrak Hussein Obama does not. King could have been a statesman, he was well on his way, but his brilliant life ended prematurely and tragically. When is the African American community going to produce a man of his caliber…someone who can carry them out of the cesspool of poverty and be a uniter, not a divider. Certainly not Barak Obama or Jesse Jackson or the race baiting, hate monger, money grubbing egocentric Al Sharpton. Contrary to what the race hate peddlers would have all of us believe, whites want black Americans to succeed and they want them to succeed learning the same principles of hard work, honesty, loyalty, education and self-sufficiency that built this great nation.
This young man who tweeted that 95% of whites are mean and then talks about killing them is just one symptom of the degree to which Al Sharpton’s hate mongering is taking hold in the hearts of too many African American youth. They see themselves as victims. How about building bridges instead of burning them. How about bringing your “enemy” into your circle instead of shutting him out. Can we not be honest, face the brutal facts of why so many minority children are underachievers and then attack the facts with positive action. After the election of Barak Hussein Obama, the myth that success for any child in America is denied because of race evaporated like frost in the morning sun. No one, I repeat, no one has excuse in America for not dreaming and living their dreams. The victim mentality, preached by the Jesse Jacksons and Al Sharptons of the the world will forever, if not reversed, infect this young generation.
“Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish and you feed him for life.” I do not know the source of this quote but it is timeless. Exploding welfare programs breed indolence and dependance. With no incentive to work, only those who are too embarrassed to gain their livelihood from the sweat of others will be the producers in this world. With the passage of time and the explosion of the welfare state, the greatest economy in the world will be brought to its knees by its inability to find productive workers. Only men and women of character grasp the mental and emotional value of eating and wearing that which you have obtained through your own efforts and those efforts do not include the energy it takes to get off the couch and walk to the welfare office.
Rise up America and reject the doctrine of the dole!!!!
The most rewarding moments when building the story of Julian Reicherts world being turned upside down was living the setting. In the real world, my senses are fine-tuned into the natural world around me. I see not just the trees, but how they stand in the soil and appear looking up into the sky and the health of the leaves. Their place in the local terrain including proximity to water including streams, whether the land is level or rolling or steep mountains and canyons. The trip into the slick rock canyons and mystic arroyos where the spirits of the Anazasi live was euphoric. It was euphoric because I had, at a cursory level, visited, hiked, explored and marveled at the formations of the great southwest and in particular, the dramatic views in and around the Grand Staircase Escalante National Monument. The formations are awe-inspiring and consoling. Living and writing a story in this setting wal fulfilling, to say the least