On my bucket list of future vacations, I used to list Washington D.C. near the top. I visited there once as a kid in the 1980s but couldn’t appreciate it at the time. As I grew older, and as my history nerdism reached new heights, I often dreamed of taking an extended tour of the East Coast with D.C. being a main attraction. I wanted to view the memorials, be awed by the historical foundations of a nation founded under God, and see with my own eyes the tributes to those who made the ultimate sacrifice. I wanted to view the Capitol rotunda, see the sculptures of founding fathers, and hopefully gather inspiration from the legacies of those who created the country that we love.
A lot has changed, and I’m angry about it. One of the most disheartening aspects of the treachery of the last three years, perpetrated by liars and cheats, tyrants and usurpers, is how they’ve stolen our history.
I love history; I devour it. Reading history inspires me to dare great things, take risks, and maybe contribute a chapter to our national story. The feats spread across American history make me recognize how nothing worth fighting for comes easy. I used to look at images of the nation’s capital and see symbolic representations of grit and liberty, but no more.
When I see an image of the Capitol building, a wave of disgust washes over me, and I wonder if I can ever respect that institution again.
Whereas that building used to conjure up histories of learned men struggling to safeguard freedom in a complex world, now all it conjures up is stories of J6 political prisoners being tortured by their own government. I see millionaire Senators seated by stolen elections and impossible to dislodge. I see taxpayer funded arms shipments to both purported allies and supposed foes. I see hapless Representatives facilitating an invasion on our southern border. I see traitors and empty suits, sell-outs and grandstanders. I see Dominion, Facebook, and corporate media insulating them from any accountability, and a government so adamant that their elections were fair that they will lock up anyone who questions it.
This may come as a shock to some of you, but at one time I even wanted to join the government. As a college graduate with a degree in Justice and open doors a plenty, I was on track to becoming a federal agent. Back then I used to see the FBI building and think about Eisenhower and Kennedy combating segregation and challenging Jim Crow laws in Federal courts. I thought about John Douglas tracking down serial killers, or about federal agents taking on mafia kingpins and Mexican cartels. Now when I see the letters FBI all I can think of are goons in tactical gear pointing AR15s at little girls in footie jammies because their mom or dad attended a protest. I think of fabricated evidence, perjury before Congress, conspiratorial fedboy informants, and brainwashed recruits drunk on power, oblivious to the Constitutional rights of anyone they’ve been green-lighted to assault.
When I used to see images of the Supreme Court, I imagined intense legal debate by great minds who just as often got things wrong (Dred Scott, Roe v. Wade) as they got things right (Brown v. Board, Texas v. Johnson) but who were at least intelligent enough to understand basic biology. Now all I see are black robes filled with animate beings that may or may not retain functional brains.
When I saw the White House, I recalled both honorable and dishonorable men who nonetheless got there because people actually voted them in. Now all I see is a building. Like a row of false fronts in the Old Western towns, I see a few white pillars designed to make you feel there’s something important and worthy inside, instead of a cheap shack for vagabond shysters shilling tripe. I see the White House now, and it holds all the grandeur of a downtown dollar-store filled with crap merchandise and manned by a drooling invalid wearing soiled bloomers.
When I used to see the war memorials, I thought of soldiers laying down their lives so that this nation shall not perish from the earth. I get even angrier at that. I get angry that the government that sent them into harm’s way is unworthy of them, that those who profited from a decade-long war in Vietnam – only to pull out, leaving our allies high and dry in Communist prisons – pulled the same trick with my generation’s veterans. It’s maddening that men and women who fought to protect us from terrorists have to sit back and watch with severed limbs as the swamp creatures equip the monsters who maimed them with state-of-the-art helmets and night-vision. I see those memorials and wonder how many more of our men need to die to keep the military industrial complex’s gravy train in operation in Israel, and Ukraine, and who knows where, next month. I see generals with chests thick with medals, and wonder if they got promoted to that podium by throwing dead soldiers and honorable subordinates under the bus. And all this while terrorist sleeper cells within our borders wait patiently for marching orders, with our best troops overseas again, and for what?
A few generations of feckless leaders have soiled America’s legacy. Can we ever look at the buildings, monuments, and symbols the same way after what they’ve done to them? Washington D.C. and its symbolic halls of power are a crime scene. And who wants to spend time visiting a crime scene, where extortion and murder and theft and treason were celebrated by national media and regurgitated by sleepwalking consumers?
But it’s not just Washington D.C., because they’ve stolen our local history as well. They’ve stacked the courts with activist yes-men behind the bench, at the counselors’ tables, and in the jury boxes. They who’ve been seated care nothing about justice and even less about morality. How can we look favorably on state legislatures that allow sexual deviants to infect schools? Practically every state legislature, court, school board, county commissioner, and assembly is full of elitist do-nothings flipping the bird to the citizens they’re supposed to represent. That’s our history now; how do we reconcile that with loving our states and our nation?
The folks who program election machines want us to believe that a majority of people in Ohio are okay with murdering children right up until birth. Election machines and cowardly Ohio officials allowed that. They’ve stolen that history right out of the hands of citizens.
How can we ever see these people like we used to, when those who carry the mantle of history have done everything possible to dishonor it?
As a rule, I always try to provide a solution for any criticism I make. But how do we regain our history when it’s been so completely perverted? Time may fade those scars, but respect lost is hard to regain. But maybe there is something we can do to move forward and get beyond the violations they’ve perpetrated on our national history: Abandon the urine-soaked shacks they’ve defiled and let them collapse under their own weight. The cockroaches and rats can have them.
When a building is condemned, it makes little sense to try to renovate it. It’s better to move on with fresh materials and build something better on firmer foundations. Those foundations – honor, duty, honesty, In God We Trust – are still upheld all across this country. Not in the halls of power, but in the coffee houses and homes of liberty-minded individuals, in the churches and gyms and parks and watering holes. The very places that they tried to ban us from congregating in during lockdowns are the very places where freedom still rings, so let’s spend our time and money and attention in those places, and let the swamp creatures have their cesspool to wade in.
When this sad chapter in history plays out – hopefully with a few thousand “elected” rats in prison cells – I say we build a new capitol, perhaps back in Philadelphia if we can fumigate the pests out of that city. Or maybe Alabama, or Missouri, or somewhere else where free men and women still know what it means to stand for life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. We can build new monuments honoring those who stood firm against political oppression. We can build a national library that Thomas Jefferson would be proud of, one that teaches our children the true history and expounds on the lessons we can garner from studying the triumphs and failures of important figures. We can start over, and in starting over we can grow stronger, and wiser, and train the next generation on how to safeguard the sacred things that we came so close to losing – like our rights, our freedom, our voice, and our peace – the things that they tried to steal from us, the things that make America great.
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