Veteran's Day

My driver stopped near the intersection. He said, the police are holding up traffic because of a funeral. He described everything to me. I knew about the death, it had been on the news. The Church, one of the oldest in the state, used as a hospital during the Civil War was a gathering place for the “blue bloods” of the city. He said they slid the expensive casket out of the hearse and the widow who had followed him to Canada when he fled the city to escape the Vietnam draft, followed the casket into the church along with her daughter who was born in Canada, the two sons who were born after they returned here, grandchildren, etc. I wondered how many of the “well healed” people in the church remembered that he had left his country for Canada rather than to serve in the military. Since his family were people of great wealth, he could live there until the wars end, come back to the city and carry on the family tradition of “blue blood”, aristocratic, “big me, little you”, “country club” pretensions as he professed to love his country and serve his city.

After he had left the city for Canada with the blessings of his wealthy family, his high school sweetheart joined him there, they were married and had their first child in Canada. As was the case with Bill Clinton and so many others who preferred not the wear the uniform of the military service, he lived a life of charades. Always looking down at we mere mortals who were from the poor homes and life was a struggle both in the military and out.

Just a few weeks before, my driver had driven me down to Castle Street, which at one time, here in the city of Wilmington, North Carolina was the center of black commercial establishments. A black friend of mine, who called me often to lament the world conditions as a fellow veteran had told me that he wanted the hearse to drive down Castle Street from the funeral home to the National Cemetery after his final service. And, on that Sunday the hearse drove slowly down Castle Street with the flag covered casket of my friend, the grand finale of his life. His nickname was Weed, called that because he grew so fast as a child. (neither he nor his family realized that the founder of planned parenthood, the promoter of eugenics, Margaret Sanger, called all black people weeds.)

I had come to know Weed through “talk radio”. He knew I was a veteran and he called and paid tribute to me, he would actually weep over the radio in describing how America had treated him as a WWII veteran after combat in the Pacific. He had been reared here in the city. He told how he had shined David Brinkley's shoes as a young shoeshine boy. (Brinkley, famed newscaster was raised and is buried here). He told, how when he returned from the war in uniform he was ordered to the rear of the bus. He told, even though he had spent many years up north in college and working, he was treated with as much bigotry after serving his country as when he was a black boy on the streets here. He would weep telling of how much he wanted to come back here to live and this was the very thing that took him through combat in the pacific.

William Manchester, 100% disabled veteran, biographer of General Douglas MacArthur, has said, “Those who have not known war, have not worn the uniform, have little appreciation of those man enough to defend their country.”

During the Vietnam War, I was still being hospitalized with eye surgery. I am a totally blind 100% disabled veteran of the Korean era. Hospitalized at the VA hospital in Durham, I received surgery directly across the street at the Duke Eye Center. This was at the time of the protesters from UNC-CH (where I graduated) and Duke University. They would protest around the federal facilities such as the VA hospital. While on the second floor corner room of the Duke facility directly across from the VA a black nurse one morning, telling me how much she despised the military, just spat on me. My mother and sister arriving a little later after a long trip were preparing to get me out of the place when Dr Banks Anderson, assured them that such would never happen again.

FREEDOM IS NOT FREE. At my expense, I attended the 25^th anniversary of the Normandy Invasion. There are several large military cemeteries in France. The one I visited, had 7,900 white crosses. Again, at my expense, on a world trip I walked into the largest military cemetery in the world in the Philippines which has 18,000 white crosses. There are 126,000 of our finest Americans buried on foreign soil. In Arlington alone, in this country, there are 250,000 buried including some of my relatives. FREEDOM IS NOT FREE.

WWI was the war that was supposed to end all wars. 10 million people were killed in WWI, 21 years later WWII was fought when 60 million were killed. Five years later, in the Korean conflict 55,000 Americans lost their lives. Five years later, the beginnings of the long Vietnam struggle in which 58,000 Americans lost their lives. When you feel of the marble slabs in our nations capital, and run your hand over the engraved names, when you think of the mothers and fathers who gave up sons and daughters, wives and children who gave up a daddy who loved them very much you realize again and again, FREEDOM IS NOT FREE. There has only been a few months, in the history of mankind when a war was not being fought somewhere on the planet. The difference is, they have become more horrible. The DU factor now (depleted uranium) which coats the bullets for greater penetration of armor, suicide bombers and other technology of scientific discoveries (drones, etc) makes war almost unthinkable both for the warriors involved and the civilians.

I have seen the callous attitude in too many VA hospitals and have experienced enough of the worlds ingrates to last the remaining years of my life. A friend of mine, a top notched VA doctor talked with me privately in his private office. He said, “I stopped shedding tears long ago. But last week, I cried again. The aunt of a young man who had just returned from Iraq brought him here to the hospital. He had come home from a VA hospital. He still had wounds that were oozing puss. He had not received the care he should have received, not even antibiotics. I put him in the hospital here and hope to save his life.”

Just this past week, when we here the depressing details of just one medical officer, a Muslim psychiatrist, actually counseling returning veterans not to fight Muslims and then shooting his unarmed fellow soldiers fragging is given a bad name. Children are expelled for making a drawing of a gun in a public school. The elderly in wheel chairs, are abused before boarding a plane. Technology strips us naked at most federal facilities. Yet, that FBI military doctor and certainly his fellow citizens attending his Mosque, knew the hatred of this Army Major who not only wore the gold leaf of rank but the medical caduceus of health care, “to do no harm.” On this Veterans Day, we realize more than ever that political correctness is defeating our country. Character determines destiny. Our destiny is in question unless we have a complete reappraisal of our character.

Tailgate Party

One who reads books, listens to the radio, has been somewhat exposed to certain areas of the city where there are large homes with manicured lawns, and tennis courts, and we realize that there is a certain line of demarcation between the 'haves and the have-nots'. In my early years, I was exposed to the 'black' sections of town, from which my father would haul field hands to work on the farm. Deep within the recesses of my soul, an inner being of consciousness (with which most of us are blessed) we know that our God of grace and glory made all of us in his image and we “stand amazed” that there is such a difference in the heritage of human beings. Many of us actually believe we are members of just one race, the human race.
I did not realize the vast chasm between the rich and the poor and the attitude of the rich towards the poor, particularly the bigotry existing between rich white people and poor white people and their absolute disdain for black people. I had heard of hypocrisy, the fact that ones 'talk' does not agree with their 'walk'...but, at the university, at Chapel Hill, I realized the chasm of opportunity provided for the state's wealthy people compared to those who merely survived. To this day, I get absolutely righteously sick when I see the pompousness of those whose fore bearers just happened to have been lucky in buying real estate at the right time or getting an automobile dealership at just the right time or by 'hook or crook' and kissing the right gluteus maximus, the right job in a bank or elsewhere.

As a poor, struggling student, who really was not supposed to be there, but was blessed enough to be there, I would stand in my dormitory room at UNC Chapel Hill, on football weekends and see these large cars with our state's drunken elitists, parked in the parking lots, open up the 'tail gate' and have nice expensive food. Meanwhile, I survived 8 years of university education (Chapel Hill and U of Memphis), eating on $1 a day. The more they ate and drank, the drunker they got. By the time they staggered to Kenan Stadium, where I would usher for a few dollars, these Caucasian, pompous elitists were so 'debacled' by their attempt to rally those around them, whom they were trying to impress, with their expensively feathered vestments, and gold decanters that they did not know which school team was on the field.

These same trustees and legislators, and they always made sure everyone knew who they were, judges and the state's powers of commercial prowess, whose sons (at that time, only a few girls attended the university) were there because of WHO they were, WHAT they were, not in any respect their academic ability. It sickened me then, and it paralyzes me with resentment today, that this state-tax supported university furnished special tutors to make sure the sons of legislators, trustees, power-brokers, opinion-molders, and 'blue-bloods' in the state had no difficulty at the university. One of my friends, whose father was a judge, was visited regularly by one of these university lackeys, to make sure he was not having any problems with anything.

The university athletes were always given special privileges of every type; tutoring, expensive food at the Tarheel Club, and spending money to make sure that they were happy “Tarheels”. A young man, who lived across the hall from me in the Stacey Dorm, whose father was a CPA University Trustee, always was brought back from home in a black Cadillac. I remember asking him how much the Cadillac cost. At that time, a black sedan Seville Cadillac cost $5,000. He said, “My mother also has one.” In this university academic quandary of bigotry, with the fraternity set, the special student social groups, (Gimghoul, Order of the Minotaurs, Gorgon's Head Lodge, Order of the Sheiks, Order of the Old Well, Order of the Grail, Order of the Golden Fleece, etc... I understand the cost for being a member of “Skull and Bones” is around $10,000 a year and I'm sure the cost to belong to many of these 'secret', prestigious organizations at Chapel Hill was many thousands of dollars a year.) these “big men on campus”, (BMOC) incested from family and friends who paid their way through this molestation, who continue to pay great fees for their pompous attitudes in their fall visits to their dining rooms are now the very ones who are the prostitutes of the lobbyists in the shrine of the Democrat party, shrine located on Jones St. in Raleigh, the caboose of their ride to fame and fortune, the legislature of North Carolina, and more affected ones, congressional seats in Washington.

Only the wealthiest families in the state (at this time, there were only a few prestigious universities in this state, Duke, Wake Forest, etc) could finance a son's debutante entrance into the premier society of the 'rich and famous' in the Tarheel State. All Democrats, all bigots, all 'country club'. I always stayed very quiet and just watched this debauchery, their paddles, their Greek pins, their one-up-manship on who knows who, and who is sleeping with who at the prestigious, state girls' schools.

While a medical officer in the Army, another medical officer, graduate of the University of Alabama at Tuscaloosa, whose father and grandfather were also the paternal 'debauchers' of the fraternity lifestyle, invited me to go to Tuscaloosa with him one Saturday. I then discovered the extent to which this nomenclature of bigotry extended. We walked into the dining room of the fraternity house, the black waiters were bowing and kneeling to the 'homecoming' returnees. Food, fit for a king, was on every buffet just for the eating. Each person in the room was trying to 'out impress' the others with their financial accomplishments. This, my friends, is the way the offspring of the rich and famous live, get their political backing, and like the 'Judas goat', foils you at the voting booth. Who is surprised, when former Governor Easley and his wife, are so caught up in this madness of excess, thievery and crooked activity?

I want to disclose a situation, to which a young black man had sworn me to secrecy, because he did not want me to get into any kind of trouble while I was a student at Chapel Hill. This young black man, 19, had graduated at the top of his class in a nearby black high school in Orange County. He wanted to attend the university, but no blacks were allowed at the university at that time. His widowed, poverty-stricken mother took in washing (laundry) for a living. He worked as a janitor in the dormitory, where I got to know him. He realized, that I worked at the medical school (at that time, a 2-year school) and wanted to use some books in the medical school library. I knew Ms. Annie Pickard, medical school librarian, would never allow him inside the facility, just across the hall from Dean Barry Hill's office. But, I told him, on the nights when I would be in charge of the library, he could come over and use the books; he was a magnificent artist and was making drawings of all the musculature, the circulatory system and nervous system of the human body.

He needed to study the books in the medical school in order to perfect his drawings. is intentions, if he could ever get the money together, was to attend the black medical school, Meharry, in Nashville, TN. So, he would come over at night, sit at the table, and do his work. The only problem I ever encountered, Dr. Margaret Swanton, professor in the pathology department, one of the few women on the faculty, asked me what that 'Negro' was doing in the library. I made up some story, which she bought, and never heard anything more from it. But, he knew, as a black citizen of this state, whose mother and family paid taxes at the store just like anyone else, that he was not allowed within this state facility and he also knew, that this poor white boy, whose stay at the university depended on his job, was taking a risk in allowing him to study there.

My education continued, I went on to another university, into the military, and then into a world of isolation and blindness. The last I heard of this young man, he never went to medical school, but did attend the Wharton School of Economics in Philadelphia. He is probably one of the top black entrepreneurs We often wonder why North Carolina has been so bedraggled by self-imposed hypocrisy. When poor whites, decedents of the 'cotton mill impoverishment' and poor blacks, descendants of the tenant farmer obstructionists, complain to me about their lack of opportunity, I simply say, “Keep walking lock stepped to the polls, voting the Democrat ticket, your slave masters for over 100 years.” You must love the fact that just last year, this Democrat, decadent, legislature lost $635 million which should have gone to the mental health facilities of this state. This is enough money to have put running water in every home in Eastern North Carolina which still has out houses. This is enough money to have corrected all the problems at the mental institutions such as Cherry Hospital where one patient died while waiting for care (24 hours).

When I was a student at Chapel Hill, two of my father's friends, Hardy Talton and Rowland Braswell, were in the legislature. Since they knew my ability, my interest in politics, they would invite me over to watch the legislature, which at the time, was meeting in the capital building. I still remember, 'cousin' Wayland Spruill, longtime politician, who passed out all the state funds to his friends, coming into the hall of power, calling out “SUEY, SUEY, SUEY” as if he were calling the hogs to the trough. The Democrat hogs are STILL at the trough, after 60 years, very little has changed. Life in the “good ole north state” is still a big tailgate party.

Carnations

I have always been interested in politics, probably because my ancestors, who had founded Morristown, New Jersey, were some of the few Republicans in the community. In fact, my family were the only Republicans in the community; hard working, law-abiding, “hard-shell” Christians, who had no interest in the Democrat, secular-humanist philosophy, only the Judeo-Christian way of life. God, family country. Until this very day, July 4, 2009, I can say without fear of contradiction that most of the Democrats I have known in a long, active life were and are hypocrites. They do a lot of talking about love of country and love of God, but when the “rubber meets the road”, it is just talk. Like most of my black friends, particularly black preachers, they vote the D more than the C (Democrat rather than Christian). Just look at their devotion to President Obama; their insanity over Michael Jackson. The fact that they will never discuss with you the PLURALITY of black men in prison, the PLURALITY of black abortions, the PLURALITY of black school failures, and the PLURALITY of black fatherless homes is the reason that this 13% of the population has reversed the cry of racism and is apt to cause much more bitterness as tax dollars become much more demanded.

The first Governor I can remember, as a very small child, was a hero of my father's, who wanted me to meet him, Governor Clyde Hoey. Hoey, sitting in his limousine in the city of Wilson with a large white carnation on his lapel. This distinguished gentleman, corporate lawyer as well as Bible scholar, always wore a fresh carnation. I was in the hospital at Duke University on that Sunday morning at 9:15, when Governor William B. Umstead died. Lieutenant Governor Luther Hodges was not notified until he had gotten home from church. Governor Hodges always wore a fresh carnation in his lapel.

I was active in a large Baptist church in Memphis (Bellevue Baptist) where the ushers always wore fresh carnations in their lapels. I protested this extravagance, refused to wear one of the carnations because I felt that God's money could be better spent and so the situation changed. I have always resented families and friends who purchase great wreaths of carnations that the dead could not see or smell, when, in most cases, nothing, not even a kind word had been given to the deceased in life. At my demise, and I realize we are all just one breath away from eternity, I want no service, no memorials of any type, because anyone who wants to do anything for me has certainly had the chance while I so sorely needed it while alive. (Totally blind for nearly 40 years, living alone, depending on others.)

I say without fear of contradiction that I have lived more frugally than anyone can imagine so that I could give to God's work in awards, scholarships, etc. I can certainly say without fear of contradiction, that most people who resent me, do so for that reason. In a family, those who give the most are resented the most. And, there is nothing more damaging to God than a thankless child. “How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is to have a thankless child!” (Shakespeare's King Lear)

How well I remember, as if yesterday, speaking at a youth conference at the Southern Baptist Convention, in the early 50s and I said, “If Satan had wanted to design something to make people just as mean as possible, he would have designed a TV set.” Is there anyone who will disagree with that assessment now?

Much of the sorriness of today's children, comes from the sorriness of their parents. They all grew up members of the Dr. Spock generation. Dr. Spock sold 50 million books translated into 39 languages telling parents that they should be permissive with their children; that they might damage their children's psyche if they disciplined and trained their child. Few realize that before Dr. Spock died, he apologized for writing his book and admitted that he was wrong. (Few doctors would mind admitting wrong after collecting for the sales of 50 million books.)

John J. Parker, Chief Judge of the United States Court of Appeals for the Fourth Circuit (1925-58), observed: “The purpose of a state Constitution is two-fold: (1) to protect the rights of the individual from encroachment by the State; and (2) to provide a framework of government for the State and its subdivisions. It is not the function of a Constitution to deal with temporary conditions, but to lay down general principles of government which must be observed amid changing conditions. It follows, then, that a Constitution should not contain elaborate legislative provisions, but should lay down briefly and clearly fundamental principles upon which government shall proceed, leaving it to the people's representatives to apply these principles through legislation to conditions as they arise.” The constitution of the great state of North Carolina, like the constitution of most states, is bereft of any power anymore, because the crooked state politicians have joined the crooked national politicians at the federal trough.
I am still amazed that my parents, as poor as we were, subscribed to a newspaper, which was delivered every day. I became a political addict reading everything about the political system of this country: Drew Pearson, Roland Giduz, J. Marse Grant, Eleanor Roosevelt and the Under the Dome section from Raleigh. Incomprehensible then, as is now, particularly, when I would go to the state capital during legislative sessions and witness the Democrats, totally in charge of everything, (not one black, not one woman, not one republican) keeping eastern North Carolina in abject slavery, but depending entirely on their Democrat lock-step vote to stay in power.

Eastern North Carolina highways 95-301 to the ocean, was known for poor dirt roads (only two or three paved highways in the entire eastern part of the state: Highway 70 from Raleigh to Morehead City, two lane), deprived schools particularly the segregated black schools, tenant farmers hijacked by elitist tobacco warehouse men, cotton mill workers hijacked by elitist wealthy families and Jewish merchants without loyalty to the rich or poor who summered in wonderful homes on the segregated beaches where blacks were not allowed to even put their feet in the water, but never let news-people forget their gifts to the universities and other charities. Frank Porter Graham, UNC-CH, Hollis Edens, Duke University, John D. Messick, ECU, Josephus Daniels, Editor News & Observer, Henry Belk, Editor Goldsboro News Argus, all such great Christians, all such great Democrats, would not even peep over the color barrier to allow a black student onto a state supported university campus.

Even more hideous, the “bifocal Yankees”, who through the upper part of their glasses, from up north, hypocritically criticized the south for the racial and slavery principles towards both black and white, when they moved down and started looking though the lower part of their glasses, up close, instead of assisting those of us who wanted to make a change of the life of the poor in the eastern part of the state just climbed into the box with the Democrat hypocrites. You cannot lift a box while standing in it. You have to be on the outside of the box in order to lift the box, in order to make a movement of any type.
Like Tom Pearsall, and his Pearsall Plan, to make changes in education in North Carolina, like my friend, Governor Terry Sanford, who sent many of us to New York City trying to entice industry to eastern North Carolina, where there was a wealth of everything required for industry, his only interest in the unyielding poverty, both black and white in eastern North Carolina was just their Democrat vote. Like the other Democrat governors who for the past 100 years have been in power (Hunt, Broughton, Moore, etc.) the fresh carnations, eating off of gold plates, expensive food served by prison trustees was only for them and their ilk. Not those who have planted and nourished the flowers which they have picked.

Like roadkill, the poor Democrats, the poor Republicans, the hard-working sweating, tax-paying citizens, of predominately eastern part of the state have been satisfied with table scraps. It always amazed me that people from eastern North Carolina, with good eyes, with a few brain cells still functioning, could not see that the tax money of the state was being spent in Piedmont and western North Carolina where politicians had Republican competition. Do the pastors, do the teachers, do the parents of eastern North Carolina both black and white, rich and poor, learned and unlearned, actually think that God is as blind as they are and that the inequality existing in this state is not duly scored?

Final Revolution

In my possession, I have a survey map of my ancestor's first farm in New Jersey, dated 1766, the survey having been done by A. Peacock. A splinter of the family moved down to Wayne County, NC and some of us are still around. It was 10 years later, March 23, 1775, that Patrick Henry proclaimed in St. John's Church in Richmond, “Give me liberty or give me death!” This was in reference to the freedom the colonials were seeking, from King George and his gestapo who were seeking to enslave the American Freedom Fighters who had fled to this country to escape the tyranny of the crown.

The fight still goes on, after nearly 250 years, we have lost many battles in our strivings for liberty but have not lost the war. In my world travels, I have witnessed first hand the trauma of tyranny. In Liberia, as my driver would go down a dusty road, any uniformed officer could take my luggage out of the car, throw it right in the dirt and search it. This happened several times before I retreated from that country. It is strange to me that every time I entered one of these third world countries, they had the right to demand all of my personal identifications, the amount of money I had on me, and even the make of my gold watch and any other jewelry. I was totally at their mercy. Yet, foreigners can come into this country at will.

Sitting in the airport at Lagos, Nigeria, waiting for a plane to take me out of Nigeria, there were two other passengers, the British Ambassador and a Peace Corp worker escaping from Liberia. Learning who the ambassador and I were, she clung to us, wanting us to help her escape Africa. She said, in Liberia, any man in uniform had the right to strip search any woman. She had been so abused that she was a neurological catastrophe. If I had not been along I do not know the outcome. On the plane, I talked to her in every psychiatric measure I knew, encouraging her to forget what had happened and look forward to seeing her country and her family. I maintained a correspondence with her for several years after she returned home. She thanked me over and over for my help on that day. The British Ambassador said to me, “you Americans are so crazy, you think that your largess and good intentions will change things. Study the history of the dark continent, learn how much of England's treasury has been spent here, how many English missionaries have spent their lives here. Do you really think things have improved any?”

Next week, Libya's dictator, Col. Kadafi, will celebrate his 40th year as the ruler of Libya. Such great monuments of character as Robert Mugabe of Zimbabwe, and Hugo Chavez of Venezuela, Kim Jung-il from North Korea, will help him celebrate. How soon we have forgotten the 270 people, mostly Americans, who were killed by Kadafi and his henchmen on the Pan Am flight 103, 1988. The Libyan engineer who was convicted of the bombing and sentenced to life in prison, was just released by the UK government. Amid the handshakes of his jailers, he boarded the private jet of Kadafi, accompanied by Kadafi's son. For his heroic arrival in Tripoli, he was taken to his marble and gold palace provided by this African dictator. President Obama will probably attend the festivity. He has already paid a visit to Kadafi, who has already said that Obama is a “confirmed” Muslim. A mutual friend of both Obama and Kadafi is Louis Farrakhan, Muslim leader in the US and probably the most anti-Jewish, anti-Christian American.

There have always been citizens, both here and abroad, who do not like the American form of government. In the beginning, Alexander Hamilton wanted a more centralized form of government. Joseph Stalin killed between 25 and 100 million of his fellow Russians to establish a centralized form of government. Millions were killed in China by Mao and his followers to establish the totalitarian form of government in China. We could say the same about Mongolia, Cambodia, even Cuba. When governments are totally centralized and tyrannical, citizens are abused beyond imagination. In the Cameroons, in Uganda, at the airport, both men and women are strip searched. I saw American women in a state of shock just trying to board an airplane. Are you seeing the beginnings of such, here?

A black city council woman from this city, Catherine Moore, to the best of my knowledge, has left town because she was so abused by law enforcement. A bigoted police officer saw her at a table in a restaurant with some people who were drinking. He called an officer on duty and had her followed to her home, arrested her and brought her back to the police station for a sobriety examination. I understand that at the airport she was humiliated. One thing after another like this and people will soon realize how few freedoms they have left. Even though I have traveled around the world 8 times, (one trip had 48 flights) when my missionary son asked me to visit, I said, “I don't plan to ever get on another airplane.” I cannot tolerate the police-state attitude of present day air travel. Read about the 47 who were on a plane on the tarmac for 6 hours in Minneapolis, a plane without toilets and no drinking water. You wanted change, now you have change. IT WILL GET WORSE. The final revolution has begun as the present administration subverts the constitution.

We have already learned that anyone who owns a firearm, is on the “no fly list”. So, I will not be flying anywhere anyway, nor will you if you have a firearm to protect yourself and your family. In this time of permits and licenses, it will be a matter of self protection from now on. Even those in the military service must learn to say no, “No!” to useless vaccines. (Of the 690,000 who went to the Gulf War, we believe 80,000 have already died due to the forced vaccines. You will find many of the others on the streets, homeless. One of this country's great leaders during the Great Awakening, president of Princeton, Johnathan Edwards died from a small-pox vaccination.) Say “No!” to congress people who are taking away your freedoms as provided in the constitution, “No!” to limitation of free speech, in “hate speech” legislation, “No!” to confiscation of your weapons,”No!” to your children being dumbed-down by television trash, and gutted schools.

We tire of talk of new health care legislation. Three thousand children die every day from malaria simply because someone has decided DDT should not be used for spraying. Diseases are targeted at certain groups such as AIDS targeted to blacks.

History books have largely forgotten the Trail of Tears, when 4,000 Native Americans died as they were removed from the Deep South to Oklahoma and other reservations in the country. History has largely forgotten the 8 million buffalo killed just to eliminate Indian food. How quickly democrat voters have forgotten voting for someone who said he would give them jobs. It has just been announced that GM is building an automobile plant in China. There will be jobs, jobs for the Chinese. Our entire emphasis is now on the H1N1 virus and as terrible as it could be (1 in 4 may come down with the flu) remember that the vaccine is still untested.

When you remember that there are people in this country who hate this country, much happening now begins to make sense. There are those who want to chop down the Great Oak of Liberty. They, like Mr. Hitler, think they have the “final solution.” Remember he quoted the scripture Romans 13. But the American people who love their country, will not surrender easily. This is the final revolution.