When truth was solid as cast iron
With the Supreme Court's recent ruling on same-sex marriage, the tide of history has risen yet again, submerging my knees in brackish water. The whole country has become a swamp. Twice we elected a president whose rhetorical flourishes are derived from a teleprompter, and whose chief talent is the divination and exploitation of the nation's increasing idiocy.
On immigration, politicians from the left and center are tripping over each other, courting the Hispanic vote with their claims of "pragmatism" and "compassion." They propose to forgive violations of U.S. law by undocumented aliens, in exchange for a fine and a waiting period. Had these violations been committed by citizens, those citizens would be in jail. But rather than being arrested, illegals are offered a "path to citizenship." The same politicians then insult our intelligence by denying that their plan is any sort of amnesty. And guess what? Half the country perceives no slight whatsoever.
Obamacare is an open-and-shut case. The only thing that remains to be seen -- 100 days from now, when this bureaucratic Pandora's box is officially opened -- is how many vile, flying creatures come out before the next election.
And now the Supreme Court has decreed that same-sex marriage is a sacrosanct civil right. States and churches cannot do anything about it, and if they try, they will be acting as "enemies of humanity." A majority of five justices has pitted itself against the democratic, sovereign will of 37 states. Why vote? Especially since, next time, I'd be behind a line of illegals.
Beyond writing the occasional suicide note to the Daily Herald, I will continue to go to flea markets. I enjoy handling artifacts of a bygone America. I liked how things used to be, when truth and tradition were solid as cast iron.