Testing My Conscience

Posted on 17/02/2022 by Grumpa Joe

February is Black History month in America, and a good occasion to learn more about the plight of slavery in our past. I have not undertaken a study of black history because I have a burning desire to do so, but because when I went to the library to find reading material, black history was featured rather heavily on the shelves. Usually, I pick up four books at a time, but this time I opted to take three. Two of them are definitely black history, the third is about the coming new civil war in America.

The first title I read was “The Next Civil War,” which I rated three stars. The author, Stephen Marche did a skillful job of detaining the difficulty we would have conducting a shooting war with our neighbors. The difficulty comes from all the laws that are of the books to give the government power to put down any future insurrection. Marche spends the entire first chapter on a civil war. His next chapter deals with assassinating the president and how the many attempts too do so have been thwarted by the Secret Service. The last third of the book deals with the evils of global warming.

In the second book, “To Rescue the Republic” * * * * * by Bret Baier he tells the story of President Ulysses S. Grant and his two terms trying to unify the country which was split by secession of southern states from the Union, and insuring the six million newly freed slaves the lawful rights provided by the constitution. He called this program “Reconstruction.” To that end Grant placed Federal troops in the Southern States to enforce those rights. He was not very successful at either of his goals. Immediately after Grant left office the new President Hayes removed the troops from the south, and let the States cope with the problems themselves. Hayes believed the Constitution gives the States the right and the responsibility to govern their citizens without interference from the Federal government.

What impressed me was the similarity between the election of Hayes and our own election in 2020 when Trump and Biden went after each other and claiming a stolen election. There was a slew of accusations by both parties of gerrymandering, and vote count fraud in 1876-77 election. What I learned was that the South did not treat the freed people any better than they treated them as slaves.

The third book, “The Warmth of Other Suns,” by Isabel Wilkerson is a real eye opener for me. Ms WIlkerson does a skillful job of narrating “The Epic Story of America’s Great Migration.” It seems that after many years of freedom, the former slaves decided that their treatment was so unbearable that they fled from the South to the North. The conditions they endured on jobs at plantations was the same or even worse than is was as a slave.

So many times while traveling from one end of this country to the next, I have passed through towns in the remotest, most obscure places, and found sizable black populations living there. My question was always, “how in the heck did they get here, and why.” This story chronicles the living conditions former slaves were being forced to live under. I also hear the term “Jim Crow” bandied about during political debate between blacks and whites. The black debater will always accuse the white of using Jim Crow tactics. The story told is that Jim Crow was most likely a fictitious character used when referring to laws and treatment invented by lawmakers to deny blacks their rights while appearing to fulfill the Constitutional obligations.

Even though I have only read a hundred pages of Wilkerson’s book I have learned a lot about the plight of blacks in their fight for equality. What baffles me is why blacks insist on demanding reparations to correct these past sins. I agree they were not treated very well during the period 1865 – 1970, but that is the past, and now we have a new era of laws, and fifty-two years of education and indoctrination to overcome past grievances. I agree that whites mis-treated blacks horribly back then, but compare the treatment they get today to what is was and realize that treatment is exponentially better than is was back in the good old days.

The bottom line is that I am happy that I opened my mind and chose to read some Black History.

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A Portrait of Honor

Posted on 13/01/2013 by Grumpa Joe

Liberals are already planning a place of honor for their dictator president. Much debate is taking place by pundits from various news sources about why Obama belongs on Mount Rushmore. If you search just for a few nano-seconds you will even find superimposed photos of Obama carved into the mountain next to Lincoln.

I agree, for once with my liberal friends, that an image of Obama must there next to Lincoln, i.e. the one I show. It totally represents the man who does all he can to undo what Lincoln did. Instead of emancipating the blacks of America he further subjugated them to poverty, and into vote-slaves. In this regard he is better than Lincoln because he doesn’t limit vote-slavery to the blacks, he includes all of us. Lincoln died to keep the states united, Obama lives to divide the country.

In my design, I place Obama next to, and above Lincoln because that is where he believes he is. I depict Obama as I see him. This likeness is one of the best I have drawn since he took office, and it most accurately depicts his character. I just hope the model does not get wind of what I have done. I don’t want him attempting suicide.

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Why Grumpa Joe Will Never Be President

Posted on 03/05/2011 by Grumpa Joe

Warning!

This post has graphically visual images which may cause you discomfort.

Politically correct people should change channels immediately.

Do not read if you are squeamish, or a radical muslim sympathizer.

It became a total waste of my time, but I watched anyway. President Obama’s Press Secretary explained how the Navy reverently readied Bin Laden’s body and buried him at sea. I also read several headlines about Muslims unhappy about Bin Laden being buried at sea.

I do not recall any news of a Muslim complaint about how to bury a suicide bomber. Most likely those guys get scrapped off the pavement and walls with a shovel and tossed into a dumpster. No one ever complains. No one writes about a respectful burial for a martyr whose remains are proudly scattered about peaceful markets mixed with the bodies of innocent people who by coincidence are in the martyr’s place of worship. The innocents become collateral damage in a war dedicated to killing in the name of God.

If I were leading the country, I wouldn’t have allowed the navy to deposit Bin Laden’s body into the Arabian Sea in a solemn, ceremonial way. The burial procedure I have in mind would be slightly more public and complicated.

First I would ship Bin Laden’s body to Washington D.C. for a service, worthy of a ruthless criminal, on the Washington Mall. In full view of the White House, Capitol, the Washington, Jefferson, and Lincoln Memorials. I would invite the Imam’s of every Mosque in America to witness the debacle.

There, I  have  a meat grinder of the proportions used by a sausage manufacturer with at least a 100 horsepower motor spinning the blades at 1200 rpm. Six service people who lost limbs in the war on terror would carry Bin Laden’s pathetic dead ass to the hopper and dump him in head first.

Volunteers from families who have lost loved ones in the 9/11 attack or in the Iraq, Afghanistan wars would spread the Bin Laden burger around the grounds of the Mall.

Hidden from view I have several hundred hungry dogs. When the volunteers are safely out of harms way, I release the dogs for a meal of Bin Laden burger.

Finale 1. Once the dogs finish eating the Bin Laden burger we round them up and take them to defecate within the prison cells of Guantanamo.

Finale 2. Once the dogs finish eating the Bin Laden burger we round them up and take them to defecate in Pakistan.

Vote for your favorite. One star  for finale 1, or two stars for finale 2.

This is my proposal, and I’m proud of it.

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Ya Gotta Love Wrinkles!

Posted on 09/02/2010 by Grumpa Joe

     Writer’s block is a bunch of crap. I haven’t written a thing in a week because of writer’s block. Like I said, that’s an excuse for laziness. All it takes is to sit in front of the computer and start. Today, I choose to write instead of going out for my healthy three mile walk. I’ll do that a little later. My mind seems to be sharper after a night of rest, and morning is when I write the most.

     Right now, I’m sitting at the kitchen table with my second cup of coffee. Every once in awhile I stare out the sliding glass door to watch the early morning golfers drive by in their carts. Our back yard borders the approach to the third hole at Pebble Brook Golf Course.  This morning the sky is pure blue, and the sun is so bright it is hard on the eyes. The quiet of the desert and the songs of the birds are broken only by an occasional squadron of F-15 jets roaring over head.  Yesterday, during my walk, there were large billowy white clouds scattered all across a deep blue background.  Later in the day, they collected and turned the sky gray. Last night it rained again. This place is like Camelot, It rains at night. A normal rain in the desert is like a drizzle at home. A person can walk in the rain for an hour and not get soaked, only damp.  The way I can tell that it rained is from the water dripping from the edge of the roof. It has taken all morning for the water to run down the pitch of the roof.

     The temperature this morning is fifty-nine degrees. By this afternoon it will warm up to sixty-five.  Yesterday, I talked with a friend who is staying with her son in Fountain Hills. She is ninety-five, and lives near us at home. She asked where we were located relative to her son, I told her just a few miles to the west. She asked, “Is it warmer where you are?” Temperature is relative, or should I say relative humidity is relative. Sixty-five degrees seems warm when it’s fifteen degrees and the wind is blowing over your face. Sixty-five feels cool when you are dressed in light clothes.

     Last Saturday, Peggy and I were at Mass at Our Lady of Lourdes church. We arrived early to secure a seat.  We prayed and meditated while waiting for mass to begin. The church filled quickly with a parade of old timers. All of them looked so much older than us. The servers had gray hair, the ushers needed canes, but the priest was young. We are staying in a fifty-five and over community, I thought.  Most of the homes were built in nineteen seventy-nine through the mid eighties. A retired couple of fifty five who purchased would now be eighty-six. No wonder everyone looks old.  The priest announced that it was a special day because he was honored to bless the marriage of a couple celebrating their sixtieth wedding anniversary.  Back home, in Frankfort, they would have received a standing ovation. Here it seemed like  . . . eh.  

     The attitude of the people here is to have fun.  They emphasize the positive. Wrinkled skin is normal. Everyone has wrinkled skin here. What is out of place is smooth skin, young people, and babies.  Infirmities requiring canes and walkers are just part of the age. They are looked upon as a way to extend the quality of life to the next level. I don’t think I could bring myself to live full time in a community of old people. I miss seeing the youngsters, and the babies around me. Here the parking lot is filled with Lincolns, Buick sedans, and golf-cars. SUV’s and vans, are for young people.

     It occurs to me that the seniors in this community are the pioneers of the “Green” movement, but they don’t get any credit for it.  They drive golf-cars around town on errands, to church, and on the golf course too.  They do it because it is cheaper, and more practical than driving a four thousand pound car around town. Besides, the Lincoln would probably get stuck in the rough, and make grooves in the fairway. Opening the trunk each time to select a club would be a pain in the ass too.

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