Patriotism and the Gipper

I missed most of Reagan's funeral yesterday because I had to work. I listened to some of it as Glenn Beck did a live commentary during the preliminary ceremonies and watched a bit of the recap on Charlie Rose last night.

I loved the thought that for one day, Democrats and Republicans were able to put aside their differences to pay tribute to this great American. Despite the complaints from a few crybaby liberals early in the week about how egotistical the Reagan family was for wanting a full State ceremony, for the most part the country did a great job honoring Reagan's life and legacy. He was indeed a great statesman, but more than that, Reagan imparted a sense of ownership and responsibility to us, the real America, the Average Joe. He made it clear that it was up to us to make America great, not Congress, nor politicians, nor himself. It was his belief in us that gave America our sense of pride, and his optimism became ours, and for that he will be remembered. And for those brats who just had to complain about the pomp and circumstance, I have to ask: where are we as a country if we have absolutely no traditions left to remind us of who we are? Whether you agree with Reagan's politics or not, we still need times of national mourning and celebration to serve as a touchstone... to remind us of our heritage, our identity, our freedom, and all the things that make this country great. And I would say the very same thing if it were Bill Clinton or Jimmy Carter we were burying.

What really makes the liberals look bad are the embittered, angry, hateful folks that seem to be growing in number: Morrissey proclaiming onstage in Dublin that he wished it were Bush who had died; people like this who say that our loss is "hell's great gain," cartoonist Ted Rall's remarks about Reagan "turning crispy brown [in hell] about right now," a select few in a Prairie Home Companion live broadcast who actually applauded at the news of his passing... you people disgust me. You are the reason why I choose to not vote alongside you. Your platform is hate, yet you preach tolerance (as long as I agree with everything you say. When I don't, when I express my personal beliefs, I am a close-minded bigot). Tell me what's tolerant and peace-loving about reveling in someone's demise, and in his family's pain? Because that absolutely contradicts all your anti-war, anti-hate, pro-tolerance crap that you say you stand for. Tell me why you say that we need to stop the inhumanity of this war, stop the senseless killing, yet you carry around hatred and murder in your own hearts? How is that consistent? Michael Moore's entire career is based on hatred and division. Nick Berg's "dovelike" father has done nothing but spew hatred at Bush and use his son's death as a platform to promote his own socialist agenda. The absolute contradictions astound me. If you're going to stand up for something, you have to walk it out in your life. I would have much more respect for the liberal platform if there was actually some consistency and some integrity behind the words. I don't agree with you, but I don't walk around spewing hatred and wishing death on those I don't agree with.

I'm going to close with the ever-eloquent words of our good friend Dony Wynn, whose views I respect for their balance and logic:

"A Long Ride Into the Sunset

This week, ex-president Ronald Reagan passed from this world. Even though political discussion and contemplation dares not enter into my everyday, I will admit, I can vividly recall when he was president. I remember that as an American the U.S. of A. felt good when he was at the helm, and one felt a twinge
of pride to be known as an American when traveling abroad, too. Our country was alive and thriving. Vitality was running amok. The positive spirit he instilled worldwide was contagious. Rampant.
I don’t feel that way now. We’ve got someone else at the helm who’s recklessly traded our dignity and respect for personal gain and selfish redemption, leaving us vulnerable to serious retribution on the international stage
meanwhile. Playground bully by any other name. Sorry, I digress...
This week.
This week, my forty-eighth birthday will occur. There will be little fanfare, if anything. I prefer it that way.
There is much fanfare for our fallen president. Deservedly so.
A Native American warrior chief once said, “What is life? It is the flash of a firefly in the night. It is the breath of a buffalo in the wintertime. It is the little shadow which runs across the grass and loses itself in the
President Reagan lived his. I’m living mine. Our precepts similar, our platforms vastly different. When my time comes, I will sing my death song and die like a conquering hero returning home. Just as he did, I’m sure.

There will never be another week like this one. He’s gone now and I live on, carrying the torch of goodness and service for my fellow man, best I can, as did he.
Our work here on Earth is never done. God willing, I’ll do my utmost. And if I should be so fortunate, I’ll win yet another one for the gipper. Like he would’ve wanted.
God bless you and keep you, Ronnie. You left the world a better place. A simple virtue to which we all should aspire."


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