I’ve thrown one punch in my life, and it changed the world.
Well, it didn’t change the world, I don’t think. But it did change the dynamic among the kids in my neighborhood. Ricky Haskell was the neighborhood bully, running rough shod over all the neighborhood kids all summer long, back around our 7th or 8th years, I suppose. One day, teams were chosen for football, and predictably Ricky, bigger and a year or so older than all the rest of us, was flouting his size and superiority over anyone who stood in his way, rules fully ignored.
It wasn’t planned, and I honestly don’t know where it came from, but I suddenly had one of those “I’ve had enough of this nonsense” moments, and Kissinger was nowhere in sight. From out of nowhere, I landed a punch squarely on Ricky’s nose, and instantly de-bullied him. He skulked homeward, and I was king of the neighborhood, at least until suppertime. The next day, all was right with the world, Ricky was reunited with the fold, and my hands were in my pockets.
Nobody likes a bully, but few do anything about it. We are surrounded by bullies anymore, people who often group themselves in a common theme, demand to be heard, often demanding special privileges or attention.
Muslims can be bullies. Sports fans can be bullies. Police officers can be bullies. Politicians can certainly be bullies. Anybody can be a bully. Grab a cause, a video camera and a big stick. Instant bully.
Unwanted government agencies are full of bullies. “Hello, I’m Richard Haskell with the Environmental Housing Agency. What’s that you’re building there?”
“Uh, that would be my house.”
“I see. Unfortunately, you’re building it on protected wetlands.”
“Wetlands? It’s just been raining for 3 days. Plus, I have a building permit from the courthouse.”
“Oh, no, no, no. That won’t do. Plus, our authority supersedes theirs. You’ll have to tear it down.”
“Tear it down?”
“Yes. Tear it down. All of it. Here’s my card if you have any further questions. But don’t call for at least a month. I’ll be on a month-long paid suspension, vacationing in the Caribbean with my girlfriend, Lois Lerner.”
The current president is a bully. Bullies often act like babies who can’t have their way, and this particular bully has threatened to circumvent the other two co-equal branches of government by using his phone and/or his pen. His big idea was to foist government-supplied health care upon us all, regardless of the fact that many Americans wanted nothing to do with it.
It’s like the encyclopedia salesman from hell. He comes into your home, uninvited, and proceeds to sell you a set, holding a gun to your head while you write the check.
“You know, I could always google…”
“Nevermind that. Just sign right here, and I’ll be on my way.”
At some point in the last decade or two, many people who engage in homosexual behavior decided to group themselves together and start broadcasting their lifestyle to the rest of America. It seems an odd theme for a club. I can understand golf clubs, bridge-playing clubs, book-reading clubs, crocheting clubs, alumni organizations, or vintage car owner clubs. Common interests, and all that. And of course, I understand there are places many men go to meet women, and vice versa. Try as I might, however, I know of few groups who became so terribly militant in their quest to foist their particular chosen lifestyle into the fabric of society. Militant homosexuals have successfully lobbied the imperial federal government to take up their cause. And now, if you oppose them, and their agenda, you have to deal with their federal advocate, as well.
Jack Phillips is a victim of bullying. Jack Phillips is a baker, and a homosexual couple wanted him to bake them a cake for their “wedding.” He refused, so Biff and Spiff called in Uncle Sam, who proceeded to bully poor Jack into ‘sensitivity training’ of some sort, nevermind the fact that there were other bakeries in town, nevermind the fact that Jack was a small business owner who made his own decision to discriminate. And rightly so.
There’s a more fitting word for such folks, a word better than bullies. I prefer “supremacists.” Gay supremacists. There we go. We’ve had our share of ’em. A supremacist is ostensibly a bully on crack, a person who feels he is better than anyone else, and thus, is rightly entitled to whatever he wants, including anything you may own.
We are governed by supremacists, unrighteous bullies with guns who will use force to impose their will on you, regardless of how you feel or what you believe. Your definition of marriage isn’t good enough, thus, we will call in the ultimate supremacist, Uncle Sam, to give all us poor saps the correct definition.
Most Americans sit idly by, like frogs in a boiling kettle, while liberty after liberty is whittled away. But at some point, I figure we must, of necessity, reach critical mass. Hopefully, it will come sooner than later.
That’s my cake you have your nose in, Uncle Sam.
© Copyright 2015 Tim Holcombe