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Archive for September, 2008


Dangerous Illusions—Shadow World by Dr. Robert Chandler (A Book Review)

Dangerous Illusions—Shadow World by Robert Chandler

 

A Book Review, by William Kevin Stoos

 

Copyright (c) 2008 William Kevin Stoos

 

“This is the way the country ends¼not with a bang but a whimper.”  Had T.S. Eliot read Shadow World, he might well have written this tag line for Robert Chandler’s comprehensive, thought-provoking expose of the three major threats facing the American Republic which Chandler so masterfully documents. 

 

While Americans live comfortable lives insulated partly by luck, the vigilance of our law enforcement authorities, and the sacrifice of our soldiers engaging enemies in foreign lands, forces seen and unseen are mounting against our country. Some are external; some internal, but all are engaged in a war against our country, its core values and our way of life. While we are captivated by Dancing with the Stars, American Idol, vacuous pop stars, and reality TV, as the War in Iraq drops to fifth place on the list of things that most concern us, we are oblivious to the fact that forces bent on the destruction of our Republic are shaping our future. Like the chained man in Plato’s cave who watches the dim shadows dancing on the walls and thinks them reality, we are being deceived. We see the shadows and think they are real; when in fact the world outside the cave is far different.  There are indeed things out there—people, countries, movements—that we have reason to fear, if we only knew it.  But it is easier to remain in the cave watching the shadows, and there is comfort in not facing reality.

 

Chandler’s use of Plato’s allegory works well.  Americans are slumbering in a cave of indifference and complacency, unaware of the reality outside. Chandler’s book grabs you by the collar, wakes you up and drags you into the sunlight.  Shadow World is a comprehensive analysis of the  three major threats facing America today:  A powerful consortium of countries (Russia, China, Iran, and Venezuela–“The Quadrangle”) whose common goal is to reduce the economic, political, and military influence of the United States—the sole superpower after the purported collapse of the Soviet Union—and change the world from a unipolar to a multipolar world  in which the United States is weakened or even neutralized;  The Islamic Salafist/Wahhabist movement  financed by our purported “ally” Saudi Arabia, motivated by a seething hatred of the United States and  liberal western democracy and whose goal is to establish a worldwide Islamic caliphate ruled by mullahs who want to revert to the good old days when the Prophet ruled by the sword, everyone studied the Koran and non-believers (Christians and Jews ) converted on pain of death; and a Socialist Fifth Column—a “progressive” (socialist-marxist-communist)  movement within our own country, influenced not by classical Marxist-Leninist doctrine, but rather by revisionist Marxist Antonio Gramsci.  Gramsci held that powerful liberal Christian democracies such as ours cannot be overcome directly by open revolution but only by attacking the country from within–subverting and replacing its values, institutions, and most of all, its religious traditions with secular humanism and, in time, a socialist state.  Shadow World is the bible on the subject of the threats to America and its standing in the world.  Unless we read the bible, we may well go out with a whimper. Worse yet, we will not even see it coming.

The Unholy Quadrangle

 

After the fall of the Berlin Wall, one superpower was left standing.  But now we face an alliance formed by sometime enemies/allies by convenience, Russia and China. Along with their surrogates, Iran and Venezuela, they seek to weaken the United States and change the world balance of power in ways we do not want. While George Bush gushed about his relationship with Putin, “looked into his heart” and saw a democratic idealist, in truth Putin stacked all levels of Russian government with communist cronies from his old KGB days, had his enemies (reporters, critics, and wealthy industrialists alike) killed, tried or banished, took control of powerful industries, passed laws making it a crime to “publicly slander public officials,” and parlayed his resources and political power in ways that would make the Czars blush with envy. But to the world, Putin is a democrat, and we delude ourselves into thinking that Russia will somehow turn into a benign western-style liberal democracy.  We see the shadows of democracy and good will when the reality is something far different.  Chandler drills deep and painstakingly analyzes how Putin and Russia seek hegemony over the region and the world, using its pipeline to Europe and billions of petrodollars and foreign investments to finance Russia’s historical dreams of conquest. Chandler’s treatment of the unseen but growing Chinese threat is equally sobering.  We grant China favored nation status, feebly protest its repression of religion and free speech and look the other way while China buys the United States piece by piece.  While we treat the world’s largest country and fastest-growing economy as a partner in progress, and watch the shadows of hope dance on the wall, the reality is far different. Chandler goes to great lengths to expose the true threat—the reality outside the cave: China is growing the greatest economy on earth, building its military into the strongest in the world,  spreading money and influence in Africa and South America, and arming  our enemies.  Even more alarming, as Chandler notes, is the fact that a recent poll of Chinese citizens revealed that a majority consider the United States not as a friend, but as China’s number one enemy.  While we naively treat China as a friend and partner, captivated by the dimly lit images of friendship and cooperation, the brutal reality is that China is our greatest competitor. Our sanguine thoughts of friendship and cooperation are sadly delusional—and not reciprocated.  Shadow World offers a keen insight into the Chinese efforts in the world today to undermine our country and supplant us as the world’s superpower.   The Chinese and Russians have found willing allies in their campaign to change the polarity of the world’s balance of power. Iran (our second greatest Islamic enemy) , itching to step into the vacuum created when a Democrat president keeps  his or her  promise to pull out of Iraq—is encouraged and financed by both Russian and China who have invested millions into the country, to design reactors, supply weapons and build infrastructure. That the United States cannot count on Russia or China to dissuade Iran from building nuclear weapons should come as no surprise; as Chandler points out, they are strategic partners, joined at the hip. They seek to build a powerful surrogate in the region which will fill the vacuum created by our departure, ensuring influence, access to oil, and the ability to strangle the world economy.  The implications of a nuclear capable Iran, flush with billions in oil revenues, bent on the destruction of Israel (our eternal ally), armed by China and Russia, and able to choke the world the gas pump, are simply too frightening to imagine.  In our own back yard, Chandler chronicles the rising threat of Hugo Chavez, a surrogate of the Chinese government, who seeks to export terror, revolution and socialism throughout the region in ways that Fidel only dreamed.  The man who would be the next Castro is not merely the next Castro—but Castro on steroids– more dangerous, more ruthless, and infinitely richer—controlling huge oil reserves that enable him to finance his hemispheric subversion.  Also joined at the hip with China, whose influence is increasing throughout the region, Chavez boasts of his desire to destroy America.  Chandler’s book explores the depths of Chavez’ influence in the region, his desire for hegemony in the South American continent and his ties to Russia and China which few have studied as extensively as Chandler. No American should doubt that Russia and China seek world domination and are actively seeking to extend their influence into our own hemisphere. Chandler’s treatment of the unholy quadrangle is an eye opener and a unique study of the truth outside the cave. It would be a mistake to dismiss Russia as a second-rate power defanged by the break up of the Soviet Union, to regard China as a friend and partner, or to assume that Iran and Venezuela are simply third world countries run by crazy dictators. The harsh reality is that we face a powerful cabal of nations intent on doing us in, and Chandler exposes the true nature of the  threat.                                                                                          

 

                                Saudi Arabia and Worldwide Jihad

 

Building on his own knowledge of geopolitics, his extensive study of the historical roots of Islam and the basis for the intense hatred of the West which is shared by a dangerous segment of Muslim jihadists bent on our destruction, Chandler has penned an expose on radical Islam that all Americans must heed. Radical Islam is here, now and in our own back yard. And the threat did not end with 9/11.  Shadow World traces the historical, political and religious bases of radical Islam–Salafism/Wahhabism, and how it has spread from the Mideast to our shores. He details how our ostensible “ally”—Saudi Arabia (arguably our greatest enemy, contrary to the slick public relations campaign by the Saudi family to convince us otherwise) has financed the spread of radical, western–liberal –democracy-hating Salafism/Wahhabism across the Mid East, Europe, and into the United States. Ironically they finance their vitriolic anti-western propaganda with petrodollars sent by the billions from Americans who refuse to allow drilling in ANWAR and never stop to ask why nineteen of the twenty-one terrorists  involved in 9/11 were Saudis. Chandler exposes the threat to our country from the Saudi-financed spread of radical Islam, and reveals how the Saudis finance mosques and madrassas, and use their billions to influence public education in United States. Our so called friends preach hatred of the United States, Israel, and all non-believers and actively indoctrinate millions of young Muslims who will grow up hating the West–supplying  recruits for the next generation of jihadists bent on destroying our civilization. While the Saudis pretend to be our friend, pay lip service to helping the United States track down terrorists and their sources of financing, they finance terrorism through a myriad of non-profits and innocuous-sounding businesses.  Awash in billions of petrodollars, insulated from terrorism as protectors of the two holiest places in Islam, the Saudis are at once a terrorist state and “ally” of the United States.  Deceived by the illusion of friendship and cooperation, Americans do not see the reality outside the cave—that the world’s richest country with the largest oil reserves, is actively financing jihad against America while we suppose them to be a staunch ally in the region.  As Chandler warns, the Saudis are financiers, active participants and “cheerleaders” for radical Islam. While the Saudis and the jihadists they train dream of a caliphate that stretches across Europe and some day across North America, we finance those dreams and buy their bullets. Chandler warns of the  dangers lurking right here at home, where terrorists cells planted years ago await further instructions from a shadowy enemy controlling a large terrorist  network sworn to destroy this country.  If we do not listen to experts like Chandler then in a sense, we deserve what is coming. 

The Fifth Column—Gramsci Socialists and Their Useful Idiots

 

No one knows exactly the origin of the term “fifth column,” but Chandler cites several historical examples of “fifth columns”–dedicated, clandestine–waiting in the wings to wreak havoc on the enemy. They wait to rise up, working behind the scenes, lying in wait, ready to attack or sabotage or weaken the structure of a city, a country or a society.  Not by frontal assaults do fifth columns prove their worth, but by intrigue, subtle maneuvering, and deception. Chandler’s book exposes the uncomfortable but indisputable fact that there is an active “progressive” (socialist) fifth column in the United States.  It is well-financed, discreet, motivated, and, one might say—legitimate, or respectable, at least to all outward appearances.  It is a group of fellow travelers, “progressives,” “marxist-leninist-communists, “ spelled in small type, and their “useful idiots” (as Lenin would say) including some well meaning protestors, activists and decent Americans who have no idea that they are being manipulated by more sinister forces.  As Chandler teaches, these are not your classical “rise up and throw off your chains,” violent revolutionary Marxists.  Socialism has become more subtle, more sophisticated, more urbane.  It has long since evolved from defeating capitalism through violent confrontation to gnawing at its innards through subtle conversion or subversion if you will, of the host society.  Gradually, socialists realized that liberal western democracies with a strong religious grounding and tied together with common beliefs, traditions, and values—culture–could not be attacked from without.  The sinews of religious tradition, especially, were simply too strong to overcome.  In fact, modern day socialist thinkers believed that religious values were the biggest obstacle to the spread of socialism.  For socialism to succeed it had to transform society from the inside out; it could never conquer a strong democracy such as the United States by force of arms, violent overthrow, or even by direct assault on the culture.  If socialism were to succeed at all, it must work from within, transform, and eventually replace, the values, customs and beliefs which bind together a strong society.  In short, it could only attack and defeat a country like the United States slowly, imperceptibly, comprehensively, and above all, culturally–by convincing us to abandon that which made us great in first place.  Norman Thomas, co-founder of the ACLU held that: “The American people will never knowingly adopt socialism. But under the name of ‘liberalism’ they will adopt every fragment of the socialist program until one day America will be a socialist nation, without knowing how it happened.”  As Chandler’s book illustrates, this eerily prophetic statement is being played out before our eyes in the United States.

 

Shadow World reminds us–and most Americans need reminding–that socialism did not dry up and blow away with the collapse of the Soviet Union. In fact it morphed, and adapted, because old-fashioned Marxist Leninist doctrine had proved an historical failure. Classical Marxist doctrine could not bring down a strong democracy with strong religious roots. In time, socialists adopted the thinking of Antonio Gramsci, an Italian socialist, who lived a short but influential life–a portion of it in spent as a political prisoner under Mussolini. Gramsci’s prison writings found fertile soil in the minds of modern day American socialists who run innocuous sounding  “charities,” political cover organizations, labor unions, and church groups; organizations like ACORN, the ACLU or National Lawyers Guild, or big money radicals like George Soros. Chandler tells how Gramsci’s writings have influenced thousands of  untouchable and now-tenured “progressive” [sic-socialist] college professors across the country (“teachers of destruction” in the book) who were radicalized in the 1960s, and now seek to influence thousands of young Americans who will carry the banner of Gramsci socialism into the next century. Intent on changing America by attacking its fundamental beliefs, economy, values, religions, concepts of marriage, attitudes about human life, and even its national sovereignty; intent on turning it into something it was not, they seek to transform the United States into a secular humanist, socialist state, whose sovereignty and constitutional rights are gradually ceded to international organizations like the United Nations, the World Court, and the International Criminal Court. As Shadow World illustrates, Gramscian theory–that capitalist democracies may be defeated by controlling mass media, mass organizations and public education and transforming society gradually from within–is being implemented by the fifth column American progressive movement today. Chandler’s work will not be popular among certain presidential candidates, socialist politicians, or left-wing, big money power brokers such as Soros who spent millions of his personal fortune trying single-handedly to defeat George Bush in the last election. It will not be popular with socialist-progressive think tanks and “policy institutes” like the Institute for Policy Studies whose agendas subvert our country’s interests and home and abroad and seek to erode and subordinate our individual rights to the power of the State, in the name of the common good.  Chandler names names, details their organizational structures, their agendas, and the people who run them.  As Chandler warns, not everything in our country is what it appears to be. Gramsci socialism—which works from within to erode our freedoms, change our values, and subordinate our national sovereignty–is subtly transforming our country every day.  Chandler exposes the shadowy progressive-socialist movement in the United States to the harsh sunlight outside the cave. One has only to consider the incessant attack on our religious traditions, the ACLU’s endless legal assault on the Boy Scouts, the movement to redefine the concept of marriage, the rise of the culture of death, to know Chandler is right. One has only to consider the incessant criticism of the United States whenever it fails to consult the United Nations on any foreign policy decision, the pervasive political correctness that stifles dissent, the shouting down of any college speaker who espouse any views to the right of radical, the propagation of class warfare, and the movement to redistribute wealth, to know that our society is inching slowly, irreversibly down the path of secular humanism and socialism. The sinews of common religion, traditions, values, language and political institutions that strengthened us and made us the world’s greatest superpower, gave us the strongest economy in the world and made us a beacon of liberty and hope are fraying. Chandler’s book tells us why, and outlines perhaps the greatest threat to our society—the one from within.

 

One has only to look at post Christian Europe, where few attend church, marriage is considered irrelevant, euthanasia is widely accepted, and the countries of Europe have ceded their national sovereignty.  One has only to consider that France prevailed upon one third of the signatories of the European Constitution to drop their references to “God,” or “Christ,” or a “Supreme Being,” in their own constitutions and agree to a new European Constitution which grants sovereignty to a European secular humanist government. One only has to see the paralyzing fear of their own Muslim populations which renders Europe unwilling to fight terrorism and afraid that a simple cartoon will set off religious riots, to know that the Gramsci socialists have won in Europe. And one has only to observe the decline of that once great European culture to know we are next.

 

Chandler’s years of research, investigation and documentation of the threats to our society have resulted in the most comprehensive work to date on the real threats facing this country in the world today. And he should know whereof he speaks. Chandler’s credentials are impeccable and make him uniquely qualified to warn us.  Dr. Chandler, who holds a doctorate in political science from George Washington University, is not merely an intellectual with an opinion on foreign affairs like so many talking heads in the mass media. A retired Vietnam veteran and Air Force Colonel, Dr. Chandler has extensive experience in intelligence analysis, defense strategy, and nuclear weapons deployment which few can boast. He has served at the highest levels of the Defense Department, the Strategic Air Command, and NATO Europe, and received the Defense Department’s Meritorious Service Medal. He has advised the White House; the Departments of State, Defense, Energy, and Justice; and the Central Intelligence Agency.  During the Cold War he served as strategic analyst in the Air Force “Skunk Works” Strategy Division and as a nuclear weapons planner.  Dr. Chandler has written numerous articles and several books, including

The U.S. Propaganda Campaign in Vietnam (1981); and Tomorrow’s War, Today’s Decision on Iraq’s weapons of mass destruction. Few posses his depth of experience and knowledge, or are as uniquely qualified to warn us of the dangers facing this country. And we need to listen to such voices. Whether they be geopolitical, religious, or cultural, our adversaries are real—not illusions—and bound by a common desire: to challenge our power, subvert out culture, undermine our values and destroy the country as we know it.

In the end, we can awaken from our slumber, walk into the light and confront the truth behind the threats outside our cozy cave.  We can remain strong militarily; resolve to fight the War on Terror that will last for generations—but about which no one wants to hear.  We can expose and confront the creeping socialism that pervades our society and which seeks to wear down our resolve by the grist of constant attacks our every institution—until one day we surrender our freedoms our values, and our sovereignty. If we listen to Robert Chandler and confront the threats that face us, we can save ourselves and our country.

Most of us lives in being will never know how America will look fifty or a hundred years from now. We should care for the sake of ourselves, but most importantly for the sake of our children and grandchildren. If we do not heed Chandler’s warnings, then America may look like a far different place.  Whether the change comes from the geopolitical forces arrayed against us, the jihadists, or our own internal socialist movement; whether we become a second rate world power subordinated to the United Nations or the will of a new superpower, whether our kids learn religion only from textbooks and churches and synagogues become museums, whether our grandchildren speak Farsi and bow to Mecca five times today as required by the government, or whether we become the United Socialist States of America—all because we refused to see the light and take control of our own destiny–is still within our power to determine. If our freedom, our power, our wealth, and national identity become a distant memory because we failed to keep the faith with past generations who fought to preserve this great country, then don’t blame Robert Chandler. Because we were warned.


 

 

 

Ebenezer Biden and Trickle Down Charity (Stingier Than Obama)

Ebenezer Biden and Trickle Down Charity

             (Stingier Than Obama)

Copyright © 2008 by William Kevin Stoos

For reasons I do not understand, of all the columns I have written, “Ebenezer Obama and Trickle Down Charity (The Rather Uncharitable Obamas)” has generated far more interest than anything other. I did not understand why, until a friend reminded me of a central truth about the public—which I had forgotten: You may lie, cheat, or steal, and the public may forgive you in time. But when you talk one way and live another, watch out. The public hates hypocrisy above all else.

So, just when I thought there was no politician stingier than Barack Obama—who has given as little as .6% of his income to the poor [Ebenezer Obama and Trickle Down Charity (The Rather Uncharitable Obamas) Stoos Views, June 13, 2008]–lo and behold Obama picks as his running mate, the only man in the Senate who gives less to the poor than he. While Obama’s tax returns reveal a portrait of a man, who privately gives very little to the poor—less than any Republican I know—Joe Biden gives even less. In fact, Biden’s charitable giving is so abysmally poor that he makes Obama look like Santa Claus. For two of the most “liberal” senators in Washington, they are embarrassingly conservative when it comes to reaching into their own pockets and helping the poor, whose cause they pretend to champion. If they thought that the public actually knew how little they do to help the poor, these two hypocrites would never again spout their populist drivel about Republican “trickle down” economics or criticize the opposition for not doing enough to help the poor. A close look at their returns reveals the true depths of their hypocrisy.

From 1998 through 2006, Joe Biden’s income has varied between $200,000 and $330,000. Where I come from, that is serious money. Remarkably, his reported annual charitable giving—as shown on his Schedule A—varies between a whopping $120 during the lean years and a little less than $400 when he feels extra charitable. No, I have not missed a decimal place. He does not give in terms of five figures, nor does he give in terms of four figures. No, he gives an astounding three -figure sum that has never exceeded $400 in any given year. Put in terms that even the most liberal, uneducated , uninformed, ardent follower of the Scrooge Brothers can understand, Joe Biden—one of the most powerful , “enlightened,” liberal , and wealthiest persons in America (remember ,the Democrats think that anyone in his income range is “wealthy” )—gives, on average, one- thousandth of his income to the poor. That is not one dollar in ten or even one dollar in a hundred; no, he gives a paltry one dollar in a thousand to the poor. That is, in other words, about four hundred candy bars a year. And he wants you to pay more taxes because it is your patriotic duty.

As with Ebenezer Obama, Joe Biden may talk about compassion, talk about helping the poor, and decry trickle down economics, but actions speak louder than words. And private giving—when, as the Bible says, the left hand does not know what the right hand is doing—speaks far more loudly than empty speeches about helping your neighbor. When it comes to running mates, Obama has picked his true soul brother. Both are remarkably stingy; neither gives a great deal to the less fortunate, and Biden, like Obama, is much better at giving away your money than his own.

Hooks and Pincers (Why You Have Really Never Had a Bad Day)

Hooks and Pincers

Copyright (c) 2008 William Kevin Stoos

 

There are times in your life when you feel depressed and sorry for yourself. Then God sends you a special person to remind you that, really, you have never had a bad day at all.

           

          I open doors for people—the elderly, the infirm or anyone else who might be approaching the door at the same time. Call me old fashioned, but this is how I was raised. Most people appreciate it; some clearly do not need my help at all. It was that way with the lady in the wheelchair. I followed her down the street slowly. I took my time and did not walk at my normal pace. I pretended to look in a store window. I sensed she was heading for the old hotel—the one they converted into low-income housing for the disabled. I intended to open the door for her. Looking back, I was a bit naïve I guess. She must have entered and exited this place a hundred times before—without any help from me. Soon I would learn how very little she needed my help and how pathetic my gesture really was. 

          She was the sort of person who caught your eye. I had seen persons who were confined to wheelchairs of course. Yet she was different. It was bad enough that she was confined to a chair, but she also visibly listed to one side—owing to a deformed spine. I felt sorry for her—not that she needed my sympathy. Being confined to a chair and visibly contorted was bad enough. But there was something more—something that shook me down to my toes. This poor woman had no hands or feet…at least not in the conventional sense.  The fingers on each hand had been fused together, in the womb, and were merged into a single hook. She had no right hand or left hand. She had a hook on each arm. The toes of each foot had likewise merged into something akin to a pincer—like the crawdads I caught when I was a kid. I say with the deepest respect and because I do not want to dishonor her by minimizing her disability—she had hooks and pincers. That is all. The sight of this should be enough to cause any healthy person to drop to his or her knees and thank God that they were born with working hands and feet. Or parents to give thanks that their baby had all ten toes and fingers when the doctor delivered it. Decades ago, someone had taken Thalidomide while she was pregnant and the lady in the chair lived with the consequences the rest of her life–with hooks and pincers, confined to a chair. I could not begin to grasp the unfairness of the situation. I felt guilty and abysmally sad.

          Yet, life is full of surprises, and each time I stereotype another person I have—without fail—been wrong. As I offered to open the door, she told me politely that she could make it. I hit the big gray button on the outside of the door anyway and she wheeled into the lobby. I followed her in, just in case I could “help” her further. She approached the elevator. I did not see any buttons on the elevator and felt stupid searching for buttons that were not there. “It’s okay,” she said impatiently, “I’ll get it.” I backed out of her way and watched as she lifted a tiny elevator key ring dangling from the arm of the wheelchair. She dropped it onto the floor. I thought it was an accident. I thought about picking it up for her, but something told me to back off. Then, as deftly as a Chinese diner picks up a single grain of rice with chopsticks, the woman in the wheelchair leaned back, thrust her right pincer foot forward, picked up the tiny key and lifted it four feet into the air. Then, like a tailor threading a small needle, she effortlessly inserted the key into a small slot, turned it to the right, called the elevator and patiently waited for its arrival. Next, she removed the key with her pincer foot, tossed it backwards onto her lap, snared it with her right hook and returned it to the arm of her chair. I watched in embarrassed silence as she disappeared behind the doors of the elevator.  Only then did I realize how pathetic and ineffectual I must have appeared to her, and how little she needed my help. I probably should not have even been there; she did not invite me. But I was glad—glad that I saw it all. I was meant to see it.  She taught me a valuable lesson that I will never forget. I honor her memory and thank her for that.

         Because of the woman with the hooks and pincers, God bless her, I have decided I am no longer entitled to feel sorry for myself. I have gone through my whole life with basic good health, all my fingers and toes, the ability to do hard physical work and enjoy life. I am not entitled, really, to ever have a bad day. I have no worries. And the next time someone like me gripes about an ache or pain, or complains about utterly trivial matters, I will sympathize with them—but only to a degree.  I will tell that that my back used to hurt, and my hands and feet used to ache too. And then I will tell them about the lady with the hooks and pincers.

Breaking the Fast With Little Hitler

                                                  Friends of the Devil Dine with Ahmadinejad

                                                    (Breaking the Fast With Little Hitler)

                                                  Copyright © 2008 William Kevin Stoos

[The Mennonite Central Committee, the Quakers, the World Council of Churches, Religions for Peace and the American Friends Service Committee are sponsoring an Iftar dinner meeting with Islamo-Nazi, anti-Semite President Ahmadinejad of Iran on September 25 in New York City.]

            This week a misguided group of appeasement at any cost left wing socialists will break bread with Mahmoud “Little Adolf” Ahmadinejad, President of Iran and avowed enemy of Israel and the United States. Of all the political and religious leaders with whom they could break bread and discuss matters of world peace, they have chosen to honor Hitler’s best understudy and a man who openly brags about wiping Israel, our one true friend in the region, off the face of the map. Neville Chamberlain would be proud of these folks.

            Little Hitler’s visit to the United States and breakfast with these smarmy, naive appeasers–no friend of peace or Israel I might add–serves no good purpose. Its only effect will be to give this most virulent of all anti-Zionists and most active promoter of jihad on the face of the planet, a high profile forum from which to spout his anti-Israeli propaganda and raise his standing among jihadists worldwide a couple notches. A master at employing Hitler’s “big lie” propaganda methods, Little Hitler denies that the Holocaust ever happened and–to add sacrilege to insult–held a conference to ridicule the theory that the Holocaust ever happened and give prizes for the best anti-Israel and funniest Holocaust cartoons. If that were not enough, Little Hitler openly brags about his intention of wiping Israel off the face of the earth. If he is not the Devil incarnate, he is, at the very least, Hitler’s most apt pupil, and the world’s most dangerous man. And this group wants to break bread with him and talk about world peace.  Thank God the Quakers were not in charge of repelling the Nazi advance in Europe or fighting the war against Japan. Had they been, we would all be speaking German today. Unfortunately, there is evil in the world and the group breaking the fast with Little Hitler has decided not to fight Evil, but to feed it.

            In the face of this most dangerous threat to world peace, the world has done nothing. Europe–whose leaders are afraid of their own radical Muslim population–is frozen with fear and will take no concerted or effective action to stop Little Hitler, just as they took none against his hero in the 1930s.  The United States will take no effective action–especially if Obama is elected–and Little Hitler knows this. The IAEA has reported as recently as last week that Iran has refused to comply with requests to inspect its nuclear program, Iran’s assurances that its program is only peaceful notwithstanding. So, the world does nothing while the world’s greatest supporter of terrorism and ardent enemy of Israel, brags that he has a rifle to the head of Israel and plans to shoot.

            Little Adolf has an agenda, and this appeasement dinner is a golden opportunity to promote it. My guess is that he will interject himself into our election just to show he can. If he wants McCain to win, his best bet is to come out  in favor of Obama or at least say something nice about him–after all the American electorate still harbors a deep distrust of Obama and thinks, however wrongly, that he is a closet Muslim.  If he wants Obama to win–rightly believing that Obama is the weaker of the two candidates and the least likely to employ hard power in the middle East–then Little Hitler will charm the break the fast group and profess himself to be a man of peace and goodwill–from whom the world has nothing to fear. He will interject himself into this election just because he can, just because he wants to show the world that he is an important person whose mere words can affect the election results in our country. He is here to mess with us, and with Israel, and the invitation by the Appeasement for Dinner group has given him a golden opportunity to do so. If he comes across as a nice guy, it will, of course, play into the hands of Obama–which is the goal of the inviters to begin with.

            In the midst of it all, is our friend and close ally Israel. It is a small but powerful and determined island of democracy, industriousness, peace, and prosperity in a boiling cauldron of religious fanaticism, hatred, and ignorance that is the Middle East. After fighting for independence, this tough, gritty and prosperous democracy has overcome every obstacle, won every war, and faced and defeated the united armies of all its Arab neighbors. It has defended itself against bombs, terrorists, missiles and groups such as Hamas and Hezbollah–whose charters openly vow to destroy the state of Israel. And, despite this all–with little help from the outside world–Israel survives. God bless them. Theirs is an example that we Americans should emulate because we have forgotten the spirit of sacrifice that made us great. We know no adversity here; we have no enemy armies or terrorist groups on our borders. We do not live with an M-16 at our side; we do not have universal conscription or even universal service. We are far too spoiled for that. Other than our brave men and women in the armed forces and our brave police and firefighters, few of us wake up in the morning worrying that we might have to mobilize this day to fight our hostile neighbors, or terrorists who infiltrate our borders. Israel has persevered despite all odds and thrived in a region where many people prefer to live in the 7th century, study the Koran and  kill each other. They are leaders in agriculture, manufacturing, electronics, and development of information technology.  Their military and intelligence services are second to none. They are what this county should strive to be and, not long ago, used to be. And, unlike their Arab neighbors who persecute anyone who is not Muslin (whether they admit it or not)–Israel is tolerant of all races and religions and ethnic groups, including Arabs within its own borders. Israel, above all nations, understands the concept of uniting in common sacrifice for the preservation of the country. Sadly, many Americans understand neither unity, nor sacrifice, nor the importance of defending our way of life. Israel reminds us of what we were once, not long ago.

            Israel is not to be trifled with; nor should it be expected to live under the threat of nuclear annihilation from the insane leader of the world’s largest exporter of terror who openly boasts of wiping Israel off the face of the earth. Israel does not suffer such fools and Little Hitler must be taken seriously. The United Nations is a farce and can only be counted on to pass meaningless resolutions which threaten no one.  Clearly, Russia has no intention of agreeing to any punitive resolutions against Iran and neither does China–Iran’s other big power patron. The IAEA seems powerless to do anything about Iran’s nuclear ambitions. The United States–especially under an Obama administration–cannot be counted upon to use or even threaten the use of hard military power anywhere. And, if the Ayatollahs who actually run Iran are unwilling to muzzle Little Hitler–which seems to be the case–then they are tacitly approving his dangerous rhetoric, which will only render war inevitable.

Therefore, it is left to Israel to do what it always does: whatever it takes to survive. If it looks like Obama will be elected, then Israel may move the timetable ahead; if they perceive that McCain is elected, they may bide their time. However, if the world does nothing to protect Israel from annihilation, then Israel will do so itself. And who can blame it? When a lunatic points a rifle at your head and promises to shoot you, waiting to see if he does is simply not an option.

Those who dine with the Devil may feel good about themselves, but they are simply feeding Evil. For that, they should be ashamed.

           

 

 

Bittersweet Woods (Glorious Fall Plant Thrives in South Dakota)

Bittersweet Woods(American Bittersweet Thrives in South Dakota)

 

                                                                                 Copyright © 2008 William Kevin Stoos

 

 

 

 

 

 

            Wild plants are treasures—not simply for their beauty alone, but also for the memories they bring. Sometimes they remind us of who we are, where we have been and of wonderful times past.

Some of my fondest childhood memories were of late fall Sunday afternoon trips to the country. We packed into the family car with our buckets and sacks and drove to the country in search of hickory nuts, walnuts and bittersweet vine. I loved the drives down dusty gravel roads on those golden late fall days. The sun shone brightly against the clear azure sky, and the treetops were ablaze with red, yellow and orange leaves.  The air was crisp, the colors vivid, and the weather perfect—cool, frosty mornings and warm afternoons, with just a hint of winter in the air.

            It was the beautiful, wispy, curly vine with the brilliant red-orange berries and pale orange husks tangled along the fence lines and crawling up the tree trunks in the woods that fascinated me the most. Back then it was more abundant and easier to find. Before fence-to-fence cultivation, roadside spraying, and mowing, you did not have to drive far into the country to find it. It climbed up fence posts, slithered gracefully along old wire and wooden fences, entwined roadside bushes, crawled up tree trunks—along ditches, in fields and woods. You could even spot it from the car as you drove the gravel roads. These were fun trips, in less hurried times, when families still did family things and our idea of fun was a simple drive to the country. At the end of the day, we returned home to crack the nuts with a hammer on the basement floor while Mom decorated the living room with the beautiful, mystical bittersweet sprigs that we prized so much.

          Four decade ago native bittersweet grew abundantly. Each year, it graced our living room–a symbol of the changing seasons. As surely as tulips meant spring, green grass signified summer and Christmas trees winter, bittersweet meant fall. I was struck that anything so beautiful and graceful could be found in such lowly unpretentious surroundings, or that anything so mysterious was yet so accessible—available to anyone who cared to drive the country roads and collect the treasure. The vine was, like the best things in life, free. For generations, this beautiful and tenacious vine withstood harsh winter, drought, winds, ice, and everything nature could throw at it. It endured everything, it seemed, except the influence of man. In time, it disappeared from the fence posts, barbwire and roadsides.

           Once you leave home, time passes, the years fly by and the pace of life accelerates to fast-forward. The things of youth give way to the busy ness of life. For years, I had not thought much of this beautiful vine that so captivated me as a youth.  I had not seen it for decades and assumed that it—like memories of my youth—had faded with time. Now and then I saw the imitation version of the vine in those craft stores where they sell fake versions of every species of plastic vines and flowers imaginable. It was a pathetic imitation of the original, lacking the character, brilliance and delicacy of the real thing. I wondered whether all that remained of this glorious and once prolific plant was the cheap plastic replica that sold for $3.98 a sprig. 

            A couple years ago we built a new home in Wynstone–located in Union County, South Dakota. Our house borders on the Adams Nature Preserve, which had once been a pioneer farm. Behind my house were acres of cottonwood forest, cedars, native prairie grasses, and scrub brush. It is a nature lover’s dream–a woodland preserve where coyotes, deer, foxes, wild turkey and badgers roam undisturbed.  Hundreds of thousands of wild geese pass through on their yearly trek north and south and songbirds thrive. The cacophony of life is, in this place, muffled by the wonderful sounds of nature.  It is an oasis—a serene place where you can charge your spiritual batteries by a simple walk in the woods.

            One late fall day, on a walk through the woods, I discovered these woods held a special secret. Peering deep into the woods one crisp fall day, I noticed it—the wonderful vine with the brilliant red-orange berries hanging in thousands of clumps as far as once could see into the forest. There were acres of it. There, atop hundreds of small bushes, young trees and scrub brush I saw a red-orange glow that seemed to illuminate the forest.   I had never seen so much in one place.  It climbed up cottonwood trunks, it curled around small shrubs; it graced the tops of short trees, and threaded through the branches of the wild cedars as if guided by the hand of a father decorating a Christmas tree. It climbed as high as 30-40 feet in some places. It crawled along old abandoned fences that were engulfed by the overgrowth and no longer divided anything. That delicate, yet hardy vine with the red-orange berries that so fascinated me as a youth thrived undisturbed in the woods right behind my house. I thanked God for this wonderful surprise. Everywhere I looked, there it was—curling, climbing, decorating, entwining, hanging, threading and thrusting delicate curls with clumps of red-orange berries into the air. If there was a bittersweet Heaven, this was it.

 

            This was the good old American Bittersweet of my youth that we searched for five decades earlier. Unlike its exotic cousin—the invasive and pesky Oriental Bittersweet which chokes a forest with a kudzu-like vengeance, this was different. This vine did not choke the forest or dominate it; rather it complemented the forest, decorated it, and enhanced its beauty. It turns otherwise nondescript shrubs and small trees into works of art; and boring wild cedars into Christmas trees. It adorned cottonwoods with a red-orange cloak. Here the vine lived in harmony with other plant species. Against the bright white snows of winter, it provided a stark splash of vivid orange red color that lit up otherwise colorless woods. Here, in the midst of the remnants of this old pioneer farm, undisturbed by cultivation, safe from poisonous spray, protected from the blade, the mower, and fire, this vine had prospered for generations..

            I stop frequently to study it, observe it, and photograph it. Its beauty is matched only by its tenacity. Its woody vine is tough and can grow to a diameter of 2-4 inches under the right conditions.  It climbs in some places over thirty feet high. It is hard to dig up. It clings tenaciously to the earth as well as to the trees and shrubs that host its vines. It clings closely to the small trees and shrubs until they are inseparable. Sometimes it can strangle its host. It is not unusual to see three or four vines wrap themselves around a small tree or shrub.  I have seen bittersweet actually fuse two adjoining small trees together by surrounding each and pulling them together. The vines seek the nearest host then curl delicately around the limbs and small branches until it slowly winds its way to the top. Sometimes it will bend small trees to the ground.  The berry clumps are tough and weather resistant. It is hard to pull a clump off with your hand. In fact, the berries last from fall through winter and into early spring.

          The berry clumps cling in some cases until well into April—lasting in as much as six months. Some berries are eaten by small mammals, birds and even deer. Although deer do not prefer them, they do eat the vine and the berries on occasion—especially during harsh winters when forage is limited. By the following spring, only the berry clumps above deer-height remain undisturbed. The rest have been pulled off and eaten. Through harsh winters, temperatures dipping well below zero, strong winds, and snow sleet and ice storms, these brilliant red-orange berries hang on. They last well into the spring when the returning robins gorge themselves on the remaining holdouts, which, by then resemble soft, shriveled red peas, with the consistency of raisins. I have seen dozen robins flitting from tree to tree in the early spring when the snow is still on the ground, tugging furiously at the clumps berries until at last they yield.  By early spring the berries had a bland mild flavor. They are mildly toxic and I do not recommend eating them—unless you want to induce nausea for some reason. They are very effective in that regard.  .By mid-April the last vestiges are gone and the vine prepares for new growth.

            By some wonderful quirk of fate, here in South Dakota–in my own backyard–I am surrounded by the colorful, mystical vine of my youth. Here in this place, it still thrives, undisturbed—this indigenous vine that is so fast disappearing everywhere else.It reminds me of a time long past when things were simpler and we valued the things of nature and the works of God.  The vine remains inextricably entwined in the memories of my childhood—bittersweet memories, rekindled in these bittersweet woods.

 

A Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing is Still a Wolf

A Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing is Still a Wolf

(And a Socialist in a Business Suit is Still a Socialist)

 

Copyright © 2008 William Kevin Stoos

 

 

 

 

            The wolf plays a prominent role in socialist thought. V.I. Lenin once said “When you live among wolves you must howl like a wolf,” meaning, of course, that if political necessity requires you to act like a capitalist or live among capitalists while you organize and work for socialist causes, you must act like those among whom you live. This is simply a matter of expediency.  Likewise, Norman Thomas, a founder of the A.C.L.U. once said:

 

“The American people will never knowingly adopt socialism. But under the name of ‘liberalism’ they will adopt every fragment of the socialist program until one day America will be a socialist nation, without knowing how it happened.”   

 

There is a stained glass window on display in the London School of Economics. Designed by George Bernard Shaw to commemorate the founding of the Society, the “Fabian Window” features Society members hammering the world in order, as the motto proclaims, to “REMOULD IT NEARER TO THE HEART’S DESIRE.” [sic]. A close and politically astute friend of mine–and leading expert on socialism–exclaimed: “How brazen are the socialists!”  When I asked why, he pointed to the image of the wolf dressed in a sheepskin displayed prominently above the globe in the Fabian Window–a stark and ostentatious reminder that the goal of the socialists is to work secretly, in disguise (just as Lenin counseled) and adapt to the flock, pack, or society in which you live and move. Put simply, if you read and study socialist thought, the message is very clear: work to remould the work to your heart’s desire and work for socialist causes discreetly–in disguise–adapting to whatever milieu in which you are working. This, of course, begs the question which America must now answer: “Whose heart desires to remould the world and how?”  Depending on who has the hammer–we may or may not like the change.

 

            Fast forward from the days of Lenin and Shaw, to the present.  Barack Hussein Obama’s Freudian slip (or, at best, poorly timed quip) about Sarah Palin and “lipstick on a pig,” reminded me of Lenin, windows, and wolves somehow. 

 

            Obama looks good. He is (as Biden once said during the primaries) “intelligent and articulate.”  He wears nice suits. He has wonderful stage presence and he is a rock star. And people have no idea who he is, where he came from, who influenced him or what his plans are if he–the most inexperienced politician ever to come out of nowhere–is elected president.  Influenced by “Uncle” Frank Marshall Davis (a communist organizer in Hawaii whose agenda was only to promote racial and class struggle), Billy Ayers and Bernardine Dohrn–two unapologetic American terrorists who went underground for years to foster terrorism and support our enemies right here in our own country–a radical black liberation “minister” and others, he has an agenda. And, the change of which he speaks may well not be what most Americans think, or want.

 

            What are his plans for America?

 

–Redistribution of wealth from those who own the means of production to those who don’t.

–Fostering of class envy and economic class warfare

–Government control of the health care system and education

–Mandatory sex education for kindergarteners and promotion of same sex marriages

–Increased capital gains tax

–Taxing corporations for being too successful

–Punishing with new federal taxes, employers who do not choose to

    purchase health insurance for their employees

–Increased deference to the United Nations and erosion of our national sovereignty

–Talking to the enemies of Israel and America

–Bigger and more intrusive government

           

His campaign and his platform are eerily reminiscent of the message on the Fabian Window, the writings of V.I. Lenin, and the political thought of Antonio Gramsci. He has plans for America and the world. He wants to “remould the world nearer to [his] heart’s desire.”  But we must ask ourselves, who is he…really? Americans have not asked enough, and they are far too naïve when it comes to Obama. We simply cannot trust him with the hammer.

 

A pig with lipstick may still be a pig; but a socialist in a business suit is still a socialist. And a wolf in sheep’s clothing is still a wolf.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Grandpa on His Knees (On Faith by Example)

Grandpa on His Knees

(On Faith by Example)

 

Copyright © 2008 William Kevin Stoos

 

The effectual fervent prayers of a righteous man availeth much.” James 5:16

           

            Amil Frederich Goschke–“Fritz” to his friends–was a barrel-chested, open-faced old German. He always wore a brown top hat, cocked back on his head, a thin tie, brown suspenders and a white shirt with brown slacks. He was ruggedly handsome, commanding in his presence, yet humble and unpretentious. He and his family emigrated from Europe to escape the Kaiser’s army and the harsh Prussian life of the late nineteenth century. He loved his adopted country and was, all of his life, a true American patriot. He lived an exemplary civic life, in part to show that he was a loyal American and because he lived in quiet fear that someday he would be sent back to the old country—with whom America had fought two wars. Mostly, he did so because he was a good man. 

 

Fritz ran a Rock Island railroad station for nearly five decades in southern Iowa. He volunteered as air raid warden and studied the profile of every type of Japanese and German aircraft–always prepared in the event of an invasion. He was Justice of the Peace for Eddyville Iowa, and administered the law from his dining room table—a table that would seat four generations of Goschkes over the years at Sunday dinners, holidays and birthdays. His generosity in the community was well known. Stories of how he helped the less fortunate during the Depression by bringing them a dozen eggs from his little chicken house or carrying a bucket of fresh milk from his one-cow herd, were legion. In his later years, a friend once told him: “Fritz, I won’t send you flowers when you die, but I did want you to know how much I have thought of you all these years.”  He was like that—kind, compassionate and exemplary in every way. And, thank God, he was my Grandpa.

           

 I wish I had more years with him. But the time I knew him was special, if too short.  I recall one glorious weekend when I stayed with him. It was a great adventure for a nine-year-old boy who had never been away from home. Mornings at Grandpa’s house started early. While I was still half asleep, I could hear Grandpa rustling around in the cellar, stoking up the coal furnace. I recall waiting for the house to warm up and smelling the faint odor of coal smoke permeating the house as the duct work popped and clanked from the hot air. As if stretching stiff muscles after a cold sleep, the house yawned and creaked and came alive when Grandpa stoked the fire. I pulled the tick comforter up to my nose and punched the feather pillow to fluff it up, hoping to steal a few more minutes of sleep. Soon, I could smell the wonderful scent of bacon, eggs and toast wafting up the stairway along with the earthy wisp of coal smoke. I walked downstairs to meet Grandpa for breakfast and talk about the day. In one weekend, I had the privilege of watching my first trial while Grandpa dispensed common-sense, small-town justice to a man caught fishing without a license. Later I played at the train station—the most wonderful place in the whole world for a boy of nine in the 1950s. I will never forget the image of Grandpa sitting at the telegraph key tapping out a message, or the trainmen who sat around a potbellied coal stove, with greasy spittoons at their feet, swapping railroad stories while my cousin and I swung off of wooden-wheel cargo carts from a rope tied to the rafters. Old train stations exude a wonderful, pungent smell of grease, diesel, and coal smoke that permeates the wood floors, the walls and the ceilings. The rest of the day I would spend damming up the little creek (crick as we called it) near Grandpa’s house. If staying at Grandpa’s wasn’t Heaven, it was close.

           

Grandpa never missed church. Each time I see the picture of Christ in Gethsemane I remember the print that the family donated to his church in honor of Grandpa’s memory. When I see Christ on His knees, it reminds me of Grandpa.  I knew Grandpa to be a man of great character. But it was at night, when he went to bed, that I came to realize the source of this man’s great strength, compassion and humility. Each night, before he went to bed, he did something that I had never seen. Something so honest, humble and open. Something so simple and so inspiring. He would, slowly, and with a small sigh, drop to one knee and then the other, and lean against the old brass bed. With his big, rough-hewn hands clasped against his forehead, in the pitch-black darkness of the bedroom, he would pray. He would pray in a soft, barely audible voice, thanking God for his departed wife, for his family, for all the good things that God had given him each day of his life. Through prayer, he received his strength and inspiration. As an adult, when I would read about the fervent prayers of a righteous man I knew that these words were written for my Grandpa. His prayers did availeth much and I am certain that most of Grandpa’s humble prayers were answered in God’s good time. Because he was a good man in every way.

           

One of the saddest times of my life was the day Grandpa suffered a stroke that would soon kill him. Grandpa had such a relationship with God that the Man Upstairs gave him a gentle forewarning it was time to come home. One day Grandpa announced that he could see his long-dead brothers. They were in the room with him. He announced the name of each as he pointed to the empty wall of the hospital room. One might have passed this off as delirium had Grandpa not foretold the day of his death. On the day he died, Grandpa told my father: “Tonight I will be with Maude.” Dad assured him that he would get better. “No, I will be with Maude tonight,” Grandpa replied calmly.  True to his word, Grandpa died that very day.

           

Adults teach without knowing they teach. Grandpa taught me powerful, indelible lessons that influence me to this very day. I learned that the foundation of his exemplary life was his faith in God. I learned that he prayed fervently and without fail, each and every day of his life—on his knees, in the dark, where no one could see and no one could hear. Few things have inspired me more than the life of this good man, my Grandpa, who stood so tall among men, yet conducted his life so humbly. And nothing I have ever read, nor priest nor pastor who ever preached to me, taught me more about the power and effect of heartfelt, silent prayer, than Grandpa on his knees.

 

 

 

 

What Do The Democrats Have Against Women?

(Obama Orders Hillary and Stepford Sisters to Trash New Girl on the Block)

© 2008 William Kevin Stoos

Do the Democrats fear strong willed women? Does Obama fear them? Why does the party that pretends to be so attuned to women’s rights and equality of the sexes, that pretends to be so open-minded and tolerant of all races, religions, sexual orientations and gender-related issues field the same old tired all-male ticket when there appear to be so many talented, experienced and strong willed women more qualified than Obama himself to lead or second chair the ticket? God only knows. But the reality is that the Democratic Party cannot seem to field a woman candidate, preferring instead to nominate another old, boring middle-aged white male with gray hair—rather than a strong willed woman who was talented enough, smart enough and attractive enough to garner 18,000,000 votes in the Democratic primaries. Compared to the party of Lincoln, who now fields a war hero and a strong willed female executive who has actually run things, the Democrats look like a bunch of misogynists.

I often wonder if, as a child, Obama was beaten up by a girl on the playground. I cannot explain the deep-seated psychological reason why, but it is clear that he is afraid of girls. What else explains the shabby way in which he treated Hillary Clinton after she won nearly as many votes as he during the primaries—only to learn later that Obama did not give a moment’s thought to picking her as a running mate? Rather than making this very logical choice—one which would have ensured a victory for the Democrats—Obama decided to pick a white male with a lackluster showing during the primaries. Obviously, when Obama talks about “women’s rights,” “equal opportunity for the sexes,” and “breaking the glass ceiling,” he was talking in theoretical terms only; his failure to choose a woman as a running mate and his reliance on the good ole boy system shows once again that his words are hollow and as phony as the Greek columns which framed his coronation speech.

But it was not enough that he dissed Hillary Clinton and the millions of women across the country who worked hard for her campaign and hoped to see the first woman to ascend to the Vice Presidency. His fear of strong willed women in positions of power went even further. Shaken to his tippy toes by the nomination of Sarah Palin as the Republican candidate for the Vice Presidency, and fearful that yet another woman may ascend to the second highest office in the land, he went one step further: he sent his female minions who, unshaken by his shunning of Hillary, were nevertheless anxious to do his bidding by spreading across the land to slander Palin and assure the public that Democrats do not really hate strong willed successful women; rather, they just hate strong-willed successful women who are not liberals.

The only thing stranger than the dissing of Hillary, is that Hillary—once dissed—is nevertheless anxious to do her master’s bidding by fanning out across the country along with a group of Obama worshiping Stepford Sisters including Hillary, Janet Napolitano, Kathleen Sebelius and others for the sole purpose of trying to stem the tide of Sarah Mania which is sweeping across the land. The only thing more curious than a party that shuns strong women and prefers to field an all male team is that the subservient women of that same party are most willing to trash another woman just because Obama the Great commands them. It seems that the party of misogynists is able to send its own women to undermine Sarah and ensure that this all male ticket is elected. Between Hillary, her Stepford Sisters, and the lap dog press which gets a collective Chris Mathews tingle down their leg whenever they hear Obama speak, the Democrats are pulling all stops to demean, undermine, and defeat the new girl on the block who frankly is more qualified to run things than the good ole boys on the Democrat ticket.

Sarah Palin’s only fault is that she is clean cut, intelligent, impressive, kind hearted, endearing, compassionate, successful, religious, family oriented and (God forbid), unabashedly in love with her husband and children. And, she is one tough cookie to boot. The party of misogynists cannot stand this. It strikes fear into them. When Gloria Steinem—that tired has-been from decades past who once promoted the idea of the successful, intelligent woman who could go out into the world and do whatever she desired to do–comes out of hibernation to trash a woman who typifies everything Steinem used to laud, then you know the Democrats are desperate. There is a new girl on the playground. And she is about to kick Obama’s posterior.

Jimmy Carter: Weakest President in History, Disses War Hero

Jimmy Carter: Weakest President in History, Disses War Hero

(Of Choppers in the Sand, High Interest Rates and Billy Beer)

 

Copyright © 2008 William Kevin Stoos

 

            To the list of adjectives which best describe the worst president in U. S. history, i.e., shrill, self-important, and irrelevant, add disrespectful. Jimmy Carter–the most ineffectual president in the history of the United States and certainly the worst ex-president of the United States–is at it again. It was not enough that he became the first president in history to openly criticize a sitting United States president both at home and abroad; it was not enough that he is the hero of Hamas and the darling of the anti-American radical Arab press, but now he decides (as if anyone cares about his opinion on anything) to gratuitously insult a true war hero who has suffered immeasurably for his country.

 

            In a recent interview Jimmah told a reporter that he felt John McCain–who suffered unspeakable torture at the hands of his North Vietnamese captors for over five years and declined an opportunity to leave early when he could have done so–was “milking” his experience in the Hanoi Hilton, apparently for political purposes. Had the former president any sense of shame, had he realized just how pathetic and small his insult was, he might be ashamed of himself. But he is not. He knows no bottom line and there is nothing so despicable or mean spirited that he would not utter it, for a few moments in the spotlight. For several years now Carter has offered up his vitriolic, anti-Bush, anti-American rhetoric to anyone who would listen, including leaders of foreign countries who were gleeful at the sound of a former president criticizing America–a country that put up with this weakest of all presidents for several years.  

 

            Those who lived through the Carter Years have vivid memories of this small- minded, shrill man who again comes out of hibernation to criticize a truly great man who fought and suffered for his country and displayed the sort of character sorely lacking in the former president.  My most vivid memories of the Carter Years are anything but sweet. When many of us think about the Carter Years, we are reminded of:

 

–Blindfolded American hostages being paraded before the world press by a rogue regime in Iran (whose current president of course was one of the hostage takers);

 

–Helicopters crashing in the desert, and eight brave young Americans dying in the sand during an ill-conceived, abortive rescue mission which became symbolic of the Carter presidency;

 

–Oppressive home mortgage interest rates as high as twenty-one percent (21%); and

 

–Billy Beer–a cheap swill shamelessly hawked by Jimmah’s brother Billy, who embarrassed the county and the president in inane TV commercials and half sober interviews with the press.

 

            Talk about torture….hearing Jimmy Carter offer his views on anything, much less gratuitously insulting a great American like John McCain, well, that is torture to most of us who lived through his embarrassing stint as the worst and weakest president in United States history. God bless him for his work with Habitat for Humanity–the one good accomplishment of his post-presidential life. But, otherwise, Jimmah has absolutely no record to milk, and is not worthy to carry John McCain’s combat boots. Why Jimmah has chosen to spend his last years trashing this country, hanging out with terrorists and thugs, and sympathizing with the enemies of this country, God only knows. The best thing Jimmah could do for his country right now is to simply shut up.  If he cannot be a hero like John McCain, then the least he can do is to quit trashing America. When it comes to Carter’s record, we would like to forget it; when it comes to his opinions, no one cares.

 

The Doubts of a Saint (Mother Teresa: Proof There is a God)

The Doubts of a Saint

(The Life of Mother Teresa: Proof There is a God)

© 2008 William Kevin Stoos

 

“[But] as for me, the silence and the emptiness is so great, that I look and do not see, — Listen and do not hear — the tongue moves [in prayer] but does not speak ….”

 

(Mother Teresa of Calcutta, letter to spiritual confidante)

           

      The Church is investigating whether Mother Teresa should be sainted. Somehow, during that process, her private letters to spiritual confidantes confessing decades of doubt as to her faith were published.  Predictably, the secular press is abuzz with the not-so-newsworthy story that Mother Teresa of Calcutta, from time to time, doubted her own faith and even perhaps the existence of God. I was struck by this–not that she doubted her faith;  rather, that her innermost questions of faith should be published at all. Being an accomplished sinner and not much of a canon scholar, I harbored this simple and perhaps naive notion that what we confess should never be disclosed at all. After all, aren’t our confessions sacrosanct?  Yet, upon further reflection, I was glad that the subject of her doubt had surfaced. It intrigued me, but did not surprise me, that such a person would have doubts about her faith. Many saints did.

            Mother Teresa was drawn to the poverty and misery of one of the poorest places on earth. For more than forty years she performed legendary good works under the worst of circumstances. Perhaps better than any other person, she knew the suffering, filth, and disease that plagued the most desperate of God’s children. Rather than paying it lip service to it, or turning away with revulsion–as most of us might do–she ran to it, embraced it, and did something about it. She cradled the sick and dying, changed their bandages, cleaned their wounds, ministered to them and cleaned their soiled bedclothes. Hers was no theoretical concern for her fellow man– the sort of fleeting empathy that makes us feel good, then quickly passes. She understood what it meant to minister to “the least of His people,” as Jesus exhorted us to do.  Hers was a hop right in and get your hands dirty kind of faith that compels some people to confront misery and do something about it.  In time, that legendary concern and love for the least of His people drew others to her work. Out of such compassion and love for humanity grew the Missionaries of Charity, and thousands of clergy and volunteers who run aid centers, hospices, hospitals and minister to the blind, the sick, lepers, and AIDS patients.

            The work was taxing mentally, physically and, certainly, spiritually. She suffered during her life from many disappointments, challenges and physical illnesses. God made us human, and imperfect. She was no exception. Although she may have well been the most godly among us, she labored in the trenches of the war on poverty, disease and suffering. Hers was not an easy life. Which brings us to the question of doubt. Should it be surprising, or even news, that Mother Teresa, who wallowed in filth, surrounded herself with the sick and dying, looked around her and saw nothing but abject poverty, while many in the world enjoyed lives of luxury and comfort should have questions about faith and the existence of God? Who among us, under such circumstances would not have doubts about God, and faith, and religion?  The only surprise would be if she had no such doubts. Who could witness the misery that she did and never once raise her hands to the sky and ask “Why?” and “Where are You?  If she had no such doubts, I would doubt her humanity, because all of us doubt. It does not make us bad people or less than saints; it makes us–and her–human. It does not mean that we are not committed Christians; it means that God answers us in His time, which is not our time, and in His way, which is not our way. Often His purposes and His plan are simply beyond our comprehension. His will is often too hard to discern; He is too big to get our minds around. Who can know why God allows people to live in misery, suffering, and disease while others in the world live in the lap of luxury? Who can know why babies die while some evil persons live long lives?  There are too many imponderables and none of us are able to figure them out entirely. It is because we are human that we cannot divine such things. They are and will remain unanswerable. We can only question, and to do so, is only human.

            So, who can blame Mother Teresa, and who can be surprised by her, when she writes that she had doubts about her faith? Who could do what she did, stand in her shoes, and not doubt? Does this make her less a saint? If she is not a saint, who could ever be a saint? If doing what she did and living the way she did, setting the example she did, and displaying the godliness she did are not the works of a saint, then what does it take? If Mother Teresa is not a saint, there are no saints. If her life was not the best example of faith in action and the Holy Spirit at work, then I, as a simple sinner who has tried my best to figure out my life and understand my religion, truly don’t get it.  Among those most revered by our Church are many examples of doubters, questioners, even repudiators of God and His son.  Did not Thomas doubt Jesus? Until he felt the nail wounds in His hands, did he not doubt that Jesus was resurrected just as He promised?  Doubting Thomas doubted his own faith and the word of Jesus, yet we honor him.  Did not Peter doubt Jesus when Jesus summoned him to walk upon the water? Did he not repudiate and deny Jesus thrice during the time of His greatest suffering?  Yet Peter is revered as the Rock upon which our Church was built. Did not the disciples doubt Jesus when they encountered Him after the resurrection? These are men who lived and walked with Jesus, and even watched Him perform miracles yet the Bible is replete with evidence that they doubted Him. Did not Jesus himself, display all-too-human doubt as He hung on the cross and cried out to the Father, “Why have you forsaken me?”  There is plenty of room for doubters in our faith and some of our greatest saints were.  If those who lived with Him and walked with Him are allowed to doubt Jesus and today are considered saints of the church, why should we be surprised or bothered that Mother Teresa–who never walked with Him in person–should have some doubt now and then about her faith?  If Jesus himself, in his humanity displayed doubts, should we be surprised by the doubts of Mother Teresa?

Although she sometimes strained to find meaning in her silence and emptiness, her doubt was supremely ironic. Whether she knew it or not, she was the answer to her own question as to whether there was a God and whether He even cares. Who else but God, working through the Holy Spirit, leads a humble nun to do such great works and spend her life ministering to the poorest, sickest and most hopeless among us?  Who else but God, acting through humble and dedicated servants like her and her followers leads them to spend their lives embracing disease and misery in order to give the dying some measure of comfort?  Where does such love come from if not from God? We will never answer all the questions. She couldn’t either.  But we know the love of God when we see it, and we saw it in her.  Is there a God?  Her own life was the proof.