Wednesday, December 30, 2009

The coming beast and our vanilla defenses...


And what rough beast, its hour come round at last, slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?”


Witness the coming age of downy. With your own eyes, bear witness to the death of discipline. Take a gander at the changing of the guard from warrior to teddy bear.

Welcome to the beginning of the end.

Few words are able express the depth of my anger as I watch the coming ‘Revolution of Soft,” creeping into our society faster than the infestation of Asian carp under the Mississippi River. Throughout time, man has been forced to fight for its share of the pie, battling animals, the elements and others yet today, as we move in the second decade of the new millennium, I see a disturbing trend manifesting itself with more and more strength and authority.

The modern survival of the fittest has morphed, and the fittest are being weeded out by the weak through litigation, media manipulation and a feminization of the nation and society in which we live. Hugs have replaced the backside of one’s hand as the established means of protection, discipline and resolution. Gone are the days of the warrior, when one defends their honor with strength, or power. In its stead, the combatant has been replaced with lawyers, mothers, and a sensitive mentality where any discomfort to others is unacceptable and thus outlawed.

In essence, we must cater to everyone but ourselves.

George Orwell captured a horrifying future in his classic commentary, “1984,” yet he failed to truly grasp the real dangers our modern society faces. While the rest of the world continues to look to the strong for protection, we are forced to submit to a weak, litigious leadership born of a different beast altogether. What we get is a modern nanny, protecting us from the cold but not the wolves outside the camp. Sooner or later, these beasts will push past our weak defenses and run rampant, devouring those who have never learned to protect themselves.

Big Brother is no longer watching, replaced by his nurturing, yet helpless Sister, and we now face a revolution of the weak. Our warriors are being banished and eliminated in a cultural genocide never experienced in the history of this planet, at least not since the fall of the Roman Empire. The power of protection is mistakenly passed off to those lacking the strength to provide that very security we need to survive.

Ten minutes of media watching is more than enough to take note of the softening of our society under the guise of progressive thinking. The media, our new educators, have begun to condition us as Americans that strength is in words, not action, creating a bizarro world in which we follow the UN guidelines for discipline, which can be summed up in a mean letter instead of physical action.

As this transfiguration continues, we fall further and further into a society lacking the necessary tools to protect ourselves from the hardened reality of the REAL world. Sure, in a perfect existence, we wouldn’t need to worry about being hardened. But we live in reality, and this reality includes real boogeymen, unbridled elements and a need to strengthen ourselves for the coming winter.

Instead, we face the coming storm with little more than a handkerchief and some kind words from a helpless leadership hell-bent on eliminating the strong and replacing them with a paper-thin wind screen intended to fight the hurricane-like winds of evil, anger and violence in this world.

The military must fight both the enemy and those it defends. Coaches and teacher must walk the minefield of sensitivity that has infiltrated our society through the advent of the progressive movement. And while I’m all for treating others with respect and integrity, I shiver in the face of what we truly are becoming: a nation of crippled weaklings lacking any strength, resolve or chutzpa to dig in and defeat an enemy that would trade generations for eventual victory.

The battle for the hearts and minds is mistakenly being fought overseas, when the most vital battle is being lost at home under the guise of a society that walks, talks and acts as if it was breastfed until it was a teen. Soft. Weak. Unable.

The beast is closer than we think, and it is stronger than we give it credit for. One day, it will be inside the city gates, devouring those inept souls lacking the knowhow, moxy and might to fight back and survive. The strong will still survive but the casualties will dwarf them in size and scope, marking the end of what could have been a great society and the rest of the world will laugh in joy as they bear witness to the fall of the once great eagle, replaced by a pigeon mistaken for a dove.

The clock is ticking, and the beast slows for no man…

Saturday, December 26, 2009

Hitting the brakes...

Why is it we seem so destined to rush our lives into an oblivious time crunch? Too many memories wasted on looking to the future while the greatness in our lives is left standing in the doorway, staring us straight in the eye as it awaits us. Its ever-present stare looking past all the worries of today and, instead, at the impact crater we've managed to leave in this place. If we spend too much time looking at the past, we're inevitably going to stumble over the future.

Literally shocked at this revelation, our minds tend to reach towards the safe, towards the most reasonably acceptable cliché of reason: it's the only way to survive in this day and age. We must rush, we tell ourselves, because we have to plan for the future, for when we grow old, but in doing so we slide ourselves into the same old cycle of things — a cycle causing us to forget who we are and where we came from while simultaneously causing us to look blindly towards where we're headed.

Wandering, oblivious to the world's plan, God's plan, if you will.

We rush ourselves out of youth because that's what we've been conditioned to believe is the norm, not what our instincts constantly tell us. Grow up now and be responsible because retirement is just around the corner. And now, decades after we've inadvertently lost our innocence in the unnecessary and socially conditioned blind push, we look back on our lives as being one giant bull-run, too frantic, too quick to really appreciate where we've been, what we've done and where we've come from.

We blink, and life has literally passed us by.

But time heals all wounds. It gives us ample opportunity to right our wrongs and to build something worth being proud of, worth leaving behind in this world once we're dead and gone. A thoughtful gift while our bones return to dust and our essence blows off into the wind. All this may come freely but it can never, ever, come at the risk of enjoying the now, enjoying the present.

We have to fight for what we believe in, teach what we feel is imperative and live as if there is no tomorrow because one day, our lungs will breathe their last and we will face true judgement and the test of our existence: did we leave an indelible mark on this place or did we waste our one gift of a life rushing towards the grave? The time has come to hit the brakes and pull tightly on the reigns because the globe does not, nor will it ever, stop spinning for the sake of one man...