It’s a Small World After All, with a few nasty bugs..
YouTube can more or less read my mind, but that’s really nothing more, technically, than an observation of the Patrick Henry wisdom I impart nightly: “I know no way of judging the future, but by the past.”
That means Tucker Carlson updates, Jonathan Winters, Global currency disasters, and an occasional reference to Hayley Atwell. (Be nice; Hayley is an accomplished actress who appears in quite a few period pieces after all.) I also get my fair share of Ann Coulter slaying her opponents, but that’s why I’m struggling tonight. Even Ann, as bright as she is, has a terribly difficult time, in front of crowds, against someone offering free ice cream.
I felt a moment of despair as Ann contended, at a Politicon event, against a much less informed woman on the immigration issue. Her opponent started in with something like, “I love seeing Syrians and Mexicans and Nigerians and Jews and Italians and Swedes at a farmer’s market. I don’t panic if someone is speaking in Spanish.” This pronouncement, of course, was met with thunderous applause, and Ann had to wait, hoping against hope, that the audience would remember its algebra homework and turn off the Oprah crack.
Pastors and teachers and statesmen have a difficult task. Who doesn’t like the festive ethnic tapestry? Who doesn’t like the Mariachi music? Who doesn’t like that middle eastern fried flat bread, with the cucumbers and the sesame and all that? Is someone objecting, seriously, to Oktoberfest?
Once you get past the festive ethnic clothing, with all that radiant embroidery, you have to talk about some basic, incontrovertible realities that contribute to our well being: Christian mercy, equality before the law, private property, Magna Carta, trial by jury and all that. There are some nasty cultural viruses — matriarchy, taqiyah, mordita, honor killing — that simply must be toasted with a high concentration mix of the now banned Roundup.
Prayers for Ann, Ben, even Matt Walsh — and me, in my humble way. This is difficult work. The Oprah audience needs a big old hug, and maybe a spanking, before you can get any truth to sink in.