I have a guest-poster today:
When I was a young boy, playing with my G. Gordon Liddy action figure, I dreamed of a wonderful world where all of the people in this country would realize that the only thing keeping us from achieving a perfect life was the interference of well-meaning but misguided people.
All it would take, I reasoned, would be for these people to realize that our great nation’s true strength lies in strength. All it takes is muscles.
Not just big brawny bulging biceps, strapping pectorals, pyramidic deltoids, humongous quads. It’s more than physical strength. There are other muscles, including the mind. Moreover, in transcendence, it is the mind that controls the muscles that makes our nation great. That, I reasoned, is what our country needed. And it would show those well-meaning but misguided people that if they had muscles they would see the error of their ways.
The well-meaning but misquided people I speak of are, of course, the Liberals. All they need is to work hard, sweat, build their strength up, strain against the tight bonds of the cloth of Liberalism that confines them and keeps them thinking that only the government can do the heavy lifting.
To prove this, I traveled into the suburbs past babbling brooks and by the farms and fields of our nation, into the land beyond the beltway; to, for lack of a better term, Paradise. I saw men working in the fields, their brute strength tilling the soil of our nation. They are not Liberals.
I saw big men hauling steel to build our skyscrapers, their tight jeans encasing their hard thighs like sausages as they heaved the heavy girders. They are not Liberals.
I saw energetic young men, happily married muscular fathers in tank tops playing with their tow-headed tots or tossing a football to their well-built teenaged son, laughing easily as they taught them the ways of being a man. They are not Liberals.
Nothing is handed to them. The lone policeman on the beat — yes, technically he works for the government — but this fine example of manhood in a blue uniform doesn’t ask for a handout from the government. He protects and serves because he has the strength to do it. The strength no Liberal could have. The strength of knwoing he is Right.
Conservatives believe in strength. Some believe in strength through joy and that work will make you free. Strength forges a bond with men — and women — that the Liberals decry as bullying. But that’s not so.
I know about bullying. When I was a radiant boy clutching a brown paper bag that contained a piece of sacred turf harvested from Shea Stadium where the New York Mets had recently won the world championship of baseball, I got an atomic wedgie from some Yankee fans who were undoubtedly Liberals — it took four of them to do it.
And I vowed that from that day on I would not let Liberals take away my joy. I would become stronger — if not with muscles, then perhaps with something else, like a twice-weekly column in a newspaper where I could show the Liberals that being a conservative made me stronger than them, and, moreover, richer and morally better.
A conservative, yes, has the strength to give any other person an atomic wedgie, or a melvin, or even a swirlie. But in knowing we can, we do not. We save it for showing the world that we can. And that makes them afraid.
It takes muscles to run the world and save it from itself. The Conservatives have them; George W. Bush stands atop the posing platform, his body oiled down, his skin-tight Speedo damp with sweat. The Liberals can’t match that, and they hate us for it.
And their petty jealousy and envy is all that’s keeping us from a perfect life of rock-hard strength and the courage of our convictions.
I have the solution that the Liberals would love: get the government to buy every Liberal a Bowflex.
This guy’s good. He could get a gig as a blogger.