The recent Senate confirmation hearing for the vacant position of Supreme Court Justice proved to be just plain chaos with a sloppy dose of anarchy.
Between over 60 coordinated interruptions from the minority Democrats, well-choreographed screaming protesters in the gallery, and there was even a foolish Senator who openly admitted that he violated Senate Committee rules by releasing confidential emails to the press and begged, even double-dog dared the Committee Chairman to “bring it, bring it” and disciple him for his career ending transgressions.
Even thought he was Spartacus for a second…delusional.
Folks, I was glued to the tube waiting for wiry-haired monkeys and circus clowns to charge the committee room giving rise to the pandemonium. Embarrassing.
The logical part of my brain declared these maniac politicians to be the darlings of that half of this nation whose expectation of government-provided handouts and generally more free stuff.
That half of America wants everything from free college tuition to healthcare. I have asked these well-meaning social champions if they have found any doctor or professor willing to abandon their cash-flow occupation and give away all their knowledge and labor for free?
You know, “From each according to their abilities, to each according to their needs.” That’d be Marxism y’all. A failed historical philosophy growing more popular for those with socialism on their minds.
Sarcastically I say, all the free stuff will logically be paid for by the evil rich people because they have more than they really need. Classic class warfare.
When I was old enough to mow a neighbor’s lawn for $5, and needing a lawn mower, I borrowed $157 from the richest guy I knew, my father, who encouraged me to begin “my” landscaping enterprise, just not with “his” lawnmower.
Notice my dad was teaching me the basics of capitalism, not welfare, by experiencing the risk and reward of entrepreneurship. If he had made me give my profits to my sisters, who didn’t have a job, he would have taught me the lesson of wealth redistribution. Fortunately, he let me keep my profits which expanded by business, yet confounded my sisters. Thanks Dad.
I might have been 8 or 10 when my mom took me weekly to the bank to deposit my earnings which was printed in a passbook. She taught me the principles of saving for a rainy day and the importance of planning for the future.
My dad never took a handout…he gave handouts. He worked overtime at Pan American cargo past the point of exhaustion. Five of us lived in a 1200 sq. ft. cinder block 3/1 house on a 75’x100’ lot, had a Chattahoochee stone screened-in room overlooking an 18’ above ground pool.
We were the Jones’ everyone was trying to keep up with and we didn’t even know it. Thanks Dad.
My parents taught us not to hate anyone, especially the rich. Heck, we might want to be one someday. Although with a last name like Butcher, I had to give-up my dreams of being a surgeon.
God never planned for us to lead a slothful existence. Waiting for handouts is selfish and plays right into the hands of politicians that facilitate the lifestyle of dependency.
We are taught as a religious people not to covet, which is immorally longing for something that is not rightfully ours.
Our forefathers would not recognize the unbridled power of our government, both bureaucrats and politicians, are using to divide Americans into those craving free goodies and those yearning for “free-dom”.
What did your parents prepare you for?
The Precinct Press is authored by W.J. Butcher, a retired 26-year veteran of the Atlanta Police Department. Send comments, kudos, and criticism to: firstname.lastname@example.org