Wednesday, February 29, 2012

Rage Against The Machine

My fiance is new to a lot of things right-sided. Before he met me, he didn't really vote or care to vote, and when he did, the reasons he voted the way he did were uninformed and arbitrary. Before he met me, and met my daughter, he had accepted the programming that all artsy-fartsy college-type guys have shoved down their throats by militant feminists. That is to say, they are told they are not worthy of doing, saying, or even THINKING anything about their part in the battle of the sexes, EVER.

So, saying that I'm a pretty active activist in one facet of conservatism (The Pro-Life Movement-yeah, we don't own it exclusively, but we started it, so, Pro-Life-Libs grab my coattails! PRE-NATAL HUMAN RIGHTS!) has meant a whole new world opening up to My Beloved, and frankly, it's been terrifying for him. It's like going from a world in which celestial bodies are hung on a sheet over the Earth to having the veil lifted and finding it a vastness full of burning balls of hydrogen many times larger than our own planet and giant hunks of rock careening towards us that could smack us all out of existence at any moment.

I have seen The Machine. It is a grotesque assembly of cogs and wheels with the bodies of anyone light enough to lift thrown between teeth of gears. The disillusioned poor and impressionable high school and college kids are heaped upon it and crushed to powder with its angry rhetoric. It's connected by belts oiled with the blood of the innocent. All together it stretches over our country throughout every metropolis and if you step back from it, it seems like a dewy crimson spiderweb strangling the life from our great nation.

Politics make for strange bedfellows, as they say, and the bed of progressivism is immense. It is currently occupied with an orgy of beasts of all shapes, sizes, colors, and creeds. This is The Machine, and there are people trying to get us to either oil The Machine or become another cog in it before we are born. Therefore, we'll start there.

(Actually, The Machine is so entrenched in so many things, it's actually been quite difficult for me to collect my thoughts and approach this issue from any sort of logical progression, so I want to take this opportunity to apologize for my procrastination.)

While you're inside your mother's uterus, most likely snoozing away and growing like mad, the nurses and doctors attending mommy dearest would probably proudly tell her how they are members of a nurses union or ACOG (The American College of Obstetricians And Gynecologists). This, of course, means, they'd sooner kill you as look at you as long as mom ponied up the dough. They'd gladly grease their palms with mom's money and use your blood to lube up The Machine, as evidenced by their merciless crusades against even the most basic conscience protections for their own members.

But, luckily, you make it out alive, and now it's off to school! Yippee!!! But if you think you've escaped The Machine, you're quite mistaken. Thanks to the NEA, now that you've escaped death at the hands of one union, you can be a useful idiot molded and sculpted by another. That's right, the educators of the nation are instructing the youth on how to bring about the downfall of the nation in which they exist-the same nation that signs their paychecks. We're effectively paying for our own demise. This of course continues and only gets progressively worse as the level of indoctrination-I mean education!-advances. All that money sending your kid to college, and all you get is this lousy communist, anti-American propaganda. (T-shirt sold separately)

Second part of my post to follow...To OWS...AND BEYOND!