The honeymoon's over, isn't it?

I have been hiding in places that the most fevered Constant Reader’s imagination cannot conjure. Nevertheless, America is there. In the most desolate place imaginable, a group of people were huddled around a satellite TV, transfixed by a Hollyweird offering from the ‘90s: “Alien Resurrection”. Early on, before the SFX kick in big-time, a sweaty, sexy Sigourney Weaver delivers a head-snapping line: “Was it all you’d hoped for?”

Maybe you just had to be there, but hearing this offhand remark, emanating from a TV in the middle of nowhere, was a true Zen moment.

I vowed in my personal communications that I wouldn’t do a travel-blog, so we won’t. Suffice it to say that America—love us or hate us—is everywhere, and I was never out-of-touch with unfolding events here at Great Satan Central.

Stating specifically who was disgusted by the exchange between Dr. Rice and Babs Boxer would betray where I was hiding, so you’ll have to trust me; Richard Nixon’s “Silent Majority” is alive and well. That majority isn’t just Americans any longer; like the commercial about “not your daddy’s Buick” [whatever...], the silent majority is hiding out there in the greater world, waiting to see what the last superpower will do next.

I’ll be interested to see that outcome, too.

As a Nam-era baby, I’ll be transfixed by the images of millions dying if we cut and run in Iraq. I am not happy with the war, and now consider it ill-conceived, but we are committed, so there. Like “A Clockwork Orange”, I thought it would be a bit of the old in and out. (Please bear in mind that I am dumber than a sack of hair.) Do any of my Constant Readers remember Dr. Hang Nor and the killing fields of Cambodia? In Ye Olde Days, when the New York Times did journalism instead of partisan advocacy, they ran some compelling articles about the price of extremism.

Returning to Babs Boxer, I have a question. What… if I didn’t have children, I’m not entitled to formulate a moral judgment? The pundits have long since weighed in with their opinions about her denigration of feminist thought. Let’s take it a step further.

My oldest daughter is married, and rapidly becoming too old for military enlistment. My younger is headed in other directions, but in the event of War IV going totally proactive, she’d head the enlistment line.

Everyone forms moral judgments, hopefully. It’s part of being “normal”, as opposed to being some flavor of psychopath. Whether or not I agree with the essence of policy decisions by those who lead my country, I will always favor those who have the courage to form a moral opinion and stick by it. The alternative is the “form over substance” gang, and policies made by those poll-driven idiots whose concern about reelection supersedes any consideration of the welfare of the American people. You don’t have to be a card-carrying Libertarian to understand this, do you?

I have a certain moral and emotional investment in Vietnam. As a Ranger, I also have a sense of loss that Ms. Boxer will never understand because of the cut-and-run misadventures of Willie the Zipper in Somalia in 1993. Don't patronize me about war! We might not have been related by genetics, but those were my people being dragged through the streets of Mogadishu. They didn’t have to be my blood relatives for me to form an emotional bond, and make [imaginary] policy decisions in my mind.

(My decisions were fortunately imaginative, as they involved the deployment of tactical nuclear technology, in that instance.)

Ms. Boxer's ill-considered remarks to Dr. Rice echoed around the world. They were the perfect illustration of the liberal dogma of “form over substance”. People in distant, dark corners of the world howled with laughter at "the new most powerful woman in America."

That “bi-partisan cooperation” honeymoon lasted less than a week, didn’t it?

It’s more like “Slam the doors, arm yourselves, and prepare to repel boarders!”

I love it when people in positions of national power prove little people like me to be correct. It restores my faith in mainstream America.

This might be misinterpreted coming from a Georgian white boy; we ain’t all Klansmen. Osama Bamalama—thank you, Ted Kennedy—had better watch his six… that is to say, his butt. He’s playing power politics with the most powerful Socialist cartel on earth… the Clintons. I will credit the honorable Senator from Illinois with one thing: He is forcing She-devil Hillary to unmask her centrist lies before she could hoodwink the entire nation. Bamalama’s early deployment of a knight is forcing premature castling from the El Camino/Astroturf fun couple, a.k.a. Bill and Hilly. (You chess players know whereof I speak.) In a rare glance at some writing on chess, I learned that this ploy is actually an opening move named after some Russian.

(Checkers is more my speed.)

I’m too old to care much. I pity my children, but America is doomed, as was the Roman Empire. Electing Hilly and Bamalama as president and VP, respectively, will only hasten our demise into dhimmitude, and provide me with some vast amusement for the passing of my days. We'll need a caretaker Emperor for the death of days.