Born at the height of American power, it’s hard to believe that in my 72 years, I’ve become a dinosaur. It’s glaringly apparent to me that we’re headed down the same cinder and rock-strewn path they walked to oblivion.
We want to thank John Burtis for this Op-Ed. Send yours to Editor@GraniteGrok.com.
No, we won’t disappear in a single huge atomic blast but in a prolonged whimper.
We have pushed over the precipice, like an amateur skier at the top of Cannon Mountain’s DJ’s Tramline, and have begun our final run into snowy oblivion and the eventual wipe-out. The twentieth century was our century, just as the 18th and much of the 19th belonged to Britain.
In war, we were ferocious. In peace, we were magnanimous, and until 1953, we were to be feared on the battlefield because we only quit the field after the victory. Ask the Germans in the Meuse-Argonne, the Imperial Japanese at Tarawa or Iwo Jima, or the Germans again during the Bulge, where our surrounded forces held Bastogne against the onslaught of King Tiger tanks.
Victory by any means is as arcane a notion today as the present-day survival of an archaeopteryx or an allosaur. The very idea of “winning” has become lost in the damaging static of paltry political gain and loss, with Sen. Dick Durbin (D-IL) calling our own soldiers “Nazis.”
A paraphrase of Clemenceau has finally been proven right: war has become too important to be left to the generals, who, for God’s sake, might choose victory over halfway measures like an immediate retreat, a quick surrender, or cutting and running after a conflict is joined. Today. Norman Schwarzkopf would be admonished or called home for engineering such a victory, while General Milley calls our near-peer enemies to warn them about “us” and what we “might” do to insure our loss in battle.
We have forgotten that we are Americans as we walk, head down, carrying a burden of artificially constructed woes, fretful of what we have, fearful of being called names, scared to lose a debate, and even more frightened to win.
The Democrats survive on the very notion that we are Pluribus but no way in hell Unum, as evidenced by the plans evinced by Joe Biden and by the votes in full support cast by our four Democrat representatives: Shaheen, Hassan, Kuster, and Pappas. Only they, they claim, can provide the stability so sorely lacking in the turbulent tribal urban masses in Democrat-controlled cities when the inhabitants are incited to violence against honest working folk.
The Democrat dream for America is growing more visible today on our television screens – a country riven by hate, sectarian violence, religions, social classes, and “perceived” languages and the increasingly un-democratic Democrat-controlled central government holding the whip hands of power.
The ruling Progressive nomenklatura is made up of golden pheasants like Hillary Clinton, Chuck Schumer, and Nancy Pelosi and petty far-left satraps like Maggie Hassan, Annie Kuster, and Chris Pappas, who cruise above the dust and clatter, insulated from the mayhem, protected by armed security all while ordering the bureaucratic state around for their economic benefit and that of their cronies while denying us the ability to defend ourselves, our homes and our families. At the same time, their cheerleading media organs erase the past with a rapidity that would make Stalin blush.
I am a brontosaur because I believe in the Bill of Rights, and the Constitution, and trust that the Declaration of Independence holds some merit, and that all three apply to us all until they are finally destroyed by Biden’s executive fiats.
I am a stegosaur since I believe that I should be allowed to bear arms and protect myself and my family from the predations of the hoodlums allowed to prowl our neighborhoods at will because of the criminal idiocy of liberal judges and their incitement by liberal solons and President Joe Biden.
I’m a protoceratops because I believe we should control our borders and have some sort of a doggone limit to the seemingly endless and ridiculous flow of unskilled, criminal, and terrorist elements swarming over, tunneling under, and running across our southern border bringing the very weapons Democrats ban and the drugs they embrace.
And, finally, I am a brachiosaur simply because I firmly believe that the Electoral College separates our great nation from any one of a hundred banana republics and their riotous ballot processes, far too often overseen in our Hemisphere by the lamentable Jimmy Carter, every dictator’s friend.
As America drifts down the trash-littered gutter toward the sewer grate with increasing speed, we spin and whirl in the lens of the last election, failing to grasp the enormity of the ballot stuffing, the dangers still inherent in the Dominion/Smartmatic voting machines, their programmers and their direct connection to our current VP through her husband.
I’m a dinosaur walking in a new America, where the Democrat Party is hell-bent on the destruction of a single man, Mr. Trump, while our FBI and DOJ can’t see past the motes in their eyes – Hillary and her classified documents, Hunter Biden’s actions lining his pockets as a foreign agent, the corruption in the Biden family and the growth of the two-tiered justice system protecting them with a corrupt FBI and DOJ.
I’m a dinosaur trying to fathom newspapers without any merit, save their outrageous lies and fictional constructs, designed to bolster the ravings of that same party – Democrats – with fallacies built on prevarications, witnessed by perjurers, with photo-shop doctored pictures as proof.
There are other dinosaurs walking the highways and byways with me – folks who still believe in the commonly accepted rules of law so utterly absent in the January 6th Committee called together to further tar Mr. Trump, honesty in public office, and in the basic goodness still to be found in the once “good old” USA.
But our numbers are shrinking as lifelong political hacks like Pelosi and Schumer turn this once vibrant nation into a poor third-world country for no other reason than it is easy to do, especially when the media, the federal bureaucracy, and the enforcement organs are in league together.
The boundary line separating the future strata, wherever it’s exposed, reveals that the long-feared tomorrow finally came for the greatest of all living beasts, America. Below an increasingly faint line lie the bones of the valiant ancestors who gave us our nation and our rapidly eroding freedoms, while nothing is found immediately above it, save a wasteland.
Sadly, Democrats, too, are also soon to be extinct, but they have completely failed to grasp this simple salient fact.
Our choices are coming to haunt us.
It’s not easy for a dinosaur anymore.
