I was thinking the other day about this great country of ours, and how great this great country of ours is. As the great countries go, truly, this is greater than most. Or as Ronald Reagan said back when I worked for a living, "This is a great country of ours."
Of course, he may not have said that. But I recall writing that in one of the speeches that I gave to him to read.
The liberal Democrats don't believe this is a great country, of course. They spread sedition and hatred of Christianity.
As an Irish Catholic, as my name suggests, I love the Pope. Even though I'm divorced, I follow his teachings religiously, except for the teachings I don't follow at all. But the point is that I follow several of his teachings, like keeping the Sabbath holy, except when it's inconvenient. This firm grounding in the faith is the structure that supports my incisive analysis of politics, religion, and ideology.
I was riding the subway the other day in New York City, where I live. I love New York, especially when it elects Republican mayors. Good, solid Republicans like Mike Bloomberg, who told me confidentially one day that when he looked into Rudy Giuliani's eyes, he could see into his soul. Or something. But it was American, the way Mayor Mike (as the delightful New York Post calls him) talked about souls right off the bat.
Good Republican, Mayor Mike. Good Republican, good American, good Christian.
Those three things, I think, are connected.
As I was riding the subway, I looked out the window, and I saw the future blurring past me. I was in a giant metaphor heading uptown, America's bumpy journey into the future heading onward regardless. I felt again so proud to be a part of this, our great country, our great, Christian, Republican, American country. I looked around and saw the Puerto Ricans and the blacks, the Asians and the Indians, and the white men in their Brooks Brothers suits who employ the Puerto Ricans and the blacks, the Asians and the Indians.
What a great Christian, Republican, American, Caucasian country we live in!
I was reading the Wall Street Journal and the Financial Times. It was Friday, and the pink newspaper (what irony that Communism's color has been "bought out" by capitalism's second newspaper!) carried stories about how the Labour Party was split over the war on terrorism. I thought of how President Reagan, smiling, grinning, laughing, would remind us of how Margaret wouldn't like such-and-such, and so we couldn't do this, that, and the other.
I never understood why Nancy would scowl when Ronnie would say those things.
Back at home, the socialist Democrats were pushing their own agenda. Blocking tax cuts for the middle-class, I thought, just what they do best. Why, do they know how difficult it is to scrape by on a few hundred thousand dollars a year? We need to help the poor, yes, we, the great, Christian, Republican, American, Caucasian, wealthy country we know as the United States.
Why people in other countries don’t just kill themselves is a mystery that baffles scientists and conservatives alike.
Even in those countries that are the opposite of the United States (it goes without saying that any country which is not Christian, Republican, American, Caucasian, or wealthy cannot be great), we have a responsibility to help the poor and free them. It is what the French call a “civilizing mission,” when the French speak English, which is a sign of progress.
We cannot rely on our elites, the two-surnamed Yale-schooled suburban-raised privileged scions, to lead us to utopia. Rather, those who will build the future will come from that broad, strange, honest land located across the Hudson, plus Staten Island. And those who will lead them there will come from the opinion pages of a dozen magazines, where their intelligence and fierce debating skills are honed in all-night blogging sessions and comparisons of various Democrats and other sinners to characters in Star Wars. Of such rituals are real men forged, in contrast to the limp-wristed sissies who populate the staff of the Yale Daily News.
God bless America. Let's roll.