Threat to Democracy

 

The Colonel is a threat to democracy.

Yep -- you read that right.  In fact, the Colonel is required by the highest law of the land to act, indefinitely, against the sedition that is democracy.

It's quite simple to understand, actually.  Yet, it's only understood by a small few.  The Constitution of the United States of America -- the supreme law of the land -- stands in defense against the free practice of "democracy" in the Republic that constitution established.  

Nowhere in the Constitution is the word "democracy" found.  Nowhere.

Nowhere in the Declaration of Independence does the word appear.

Don't take the Colonel's word for it.  Google it.

You see, the founders of our Republic -- yes, imperfect men -- established a representative republic with safeguards to limit the intrusion of government into the rights of that republic's states, citizens, and legal residents.  Though imperfect, our founders were, by and large, classically educated. Their study of history informed them that of the various forms of government, one of the most destructive of the rights of minority opinions, religions, and ethnicities was a pure democracy.  Their study of history also showed them that democracies always devolve into dictatorships.  

So, the founders who crafted the Constitution, did so mindful of the inherent dangers of democracy, and built a form of republican (little "r") national government with citizen -- and state -- representation.  Per this federal constitution, and each state's differing versions, the federal and state governments of our Republic would be officiated by citizens chosen by their fellow citizens, but those citizens would be protected from the capricious rampages of pure democracy. 

The first ten amendments to the original Constitution -- known colloquially as the Bill of Rights -- enshrined specific, but not limited, rights of the people, and the sovereign States (see the 10th Amendment), of these United States against abridgment by the government and the whims of a majority in a democracy. 

Okay, the Colonel knows that he's in danger of losing the attention of the Bama and LSU fans at this point, so he'll get to the point.  

Anyone who swears an oath of allegiance to the Constitution of the United States is a threat to democracy.  

Anyone who blindly defends democracy, in contravention to the Constitution, is an enemy of the Republic.  

    

   

The REAL Volunteer State

Some of the Colonel's early Mississippi ancestors settled in a corner of what is now Chickasaw County, over 150 years ago.  The now-unincorporated community is called Buena Vista.  And, it is just about as remote as any like spot in the Magnolia State.  

The Colonel's knows a bit about remote.  He's been to some pretty far- flung and isolated corners of this big blue marble.  His own vast holdings here at the shallow northern end of deep southern nowhere vie for inclusion on that list.

But, that's not even remotely germane to the topic of this post.

What is important, and is the record-correcting nature of this missive, is the fact that one particular state, which will go un-named (but whose name is spelled with a collection of double consonants and replicated vowels) lays claim to the moniker "Volunteer State" as if it's the best or only example of crisis volunteerism.

The Colonel would like to propose that another state whose name is spelled with a collection of double consonants and replicated vowels is in fact just as, if not more, deserving of recognition for its historic volunteers.

(For the LSU and Bama grads struggling to keep up, the Colonel's paragraphs above refer to the states: Tennessee and Mississippi.)  

And now, the history lesson:

In 1836, Texas won its independence from Mexico after a sharp little fight on the banks of the San Jacinto River.  Over the next decade, the Mexican government continued to contest the boundary separating their country and Texas.  Once Texas was admitted to the Union, the United States claimed the Rio Grande River as the international boundary; Mexico claimed the Nueces River further to the north and east as the limit to their territory.

By 1846, the disagreement over the international boundary had degenerated into a series of escalating military clashes between the U.S. and Mexico.  President Polk -- in the Colonel's not so humble estimation, the greatest U.S. President of the 19th Century (don't take his word for it; look up Polk's accomplishments, in just one term, and decide for yourself) -- stationed half of the U.S. Army's regular troops, some 3,600 men, on the Rio Grande to defend the U.S. claim.  Mexico answered this provocation with force, killing American soldiers in a couple of forays north of the Rio Grande.  

The die was cast.

President Polk asked congress to declare war with Mexico and requested that 50,000 volunteers be called into service for a twelve-month enlistment to augment the small regular army for what was expected to be a quick defeat of the Mexican army in order to force Mexico's acceptance of the Rio Grande border.  

When the call went out for Mississippi volunteers, 17000 (seventeen thousand!) men descended on the Mississippi River port of Vicksburg to enlist.  To put that number in perspective, the free male population of Mississippi at the time was less than 100,000.  In other words, one in every six men in Mississippi volunteered to fight for the United States against Mexico. Factor out the older and physically unable and the ratio is nearer to one out of every three.  

Great.  The rest of you states can send your young men home.  Mississippi will lick Mexico all by itself.

But, the U.S. War Department said that Mississippi was limited to only one 1000-man regiment.  So, a competition of sorts was held in Vicksburg for a couple of weeks, at the end of which one of the finest bodies of American volunteers to ever assemble for combat stood up as the Mississippi Rifles -- so named because they were primarily armed with highly accurate rifled weapons vice the regular Army's and other volunteer state regiments' smooth bore muskets.

According to the custom of the day, most militia's and volunteer units chose their own officers by ballot.  West Point graduate and Mississippi congressman Jefferson Davis was elected commanding officer of the Mississippi regiment.  Davis had been reluctant to vote for war with Mexico, but when he went to war at the head of the Mississippi Rifles he did so without hesitation.

General Zachary Taylor, previously in command of the 3600 regular troops in the area between the Nueces and the Rio Grande, saw his force swell by 3X with the arrival of the volunteer regiments, and he was particularly pleased with the addition of the Mississippi Rifles (commanded by his son-in-law, Davis) to his command.  Once Taylor's force was assembled and equipped to his satisfaction, he marched south into Mexico intending to strike deep and bring the bulk of the Mexican army to a climatic battle.

The Mexican army had other plans.

Astride Taylor's route of march south lay the city of Monterrey with a formidable citadel commanding its approach.  Taylor did not have the resources to mount a lengthy siege, so he endeavored to weaken and reduce the defense of Monterrey through a series of attacks too complicated to tell here.  But, the garrison of Monterrey eventually surrendered the town -- the Mississippi Rifles playing key roles in many of the Monterrey engagements.

Remember, the town of Buena Vista, Mississippi the Colonel mentioned earlier? Well, it wasn't called Buena Vista when it was first incorporated.  In fact, news of Taylor's victory at Monterrey (the first capture of a major foreign city in U.S. history to that point) and the Mississippi Rifle's heroics arrived back home coincident with the incorporation of the little town in remote Chickasaw County and the founders named their new town Monterrey in commemoration.

Key to the surrender of Monterrey was General Taylor's offer of a two month armistice in return.  This allowed the Mexican defenders to evacuate Monterrey relatively intact and to join with a larger Mexican force assembling to the south.  President Polk was not happy with Taylor's decision, told him to hold at Monterrey, and sent a force under General Winfield Scott to land on the central Mexican coast at Vera Cruz and advance west on Mexico City.

In the meantime, Santa Anna (who had recently been allowed to return to Mexico under the pretense that he would help negotiate a settlement of the boundary dispute) prepared to retake Monterrey.  By the middle of February, 1847 he had assembled a force of nearly 20,000 men, albeit not as well armed and equipped as the much smaller American force.  That the date on which Santa Anna began his attack coincided with George Washington's birthday became a point around which the Americans took offense and they rallied in defense of their positions south of Monterrey at a narrow pass near the hacienda Buena Vista.  The fight that followed was a desperate one for the Americans.  Outnumbered and on several occasions outflanked by the Mexican troops, several volunteer elements of Taylor's force melted away under the onslaught.  Into one particularly dangerous breach in his lines, Taylor committed his reserve -- the Mississippi Rifles.  Colonel Davis's exhortation to his regiment, "Stand fast, Mississippians!," remains to this day the motto of the U.S. Army National Guard's 155th Regiment, of which the Mississippi Rifles was the forerunner.    

The Mississippians stood fast.  Taylor held Monterrey.  Winfield Scott later took Mexico City.  The rest is history for another blog post.

Remember the newly incorporated town of Monterrey, Mississippi?  When news of the Mississippi Rifles' stand at Buena Vista reached home, Monterrey, Mississippi was shortly thereafter renamed...

Buena Vista, Mississippi.  

The Colonel's great grandfather, Methodist minister, and namesake, Thomas Edwin Gregory, was born in Buena Vista, Mississippi 35 years later.

The Colonel wonders whether the Reverend ever knew the significance of his birthplace's name.   

The Colonel also wonders why Mississippi is not the "Volunteer State."                                        

Shocked and Delayed

The Colonel begs permission to interrupt your holiday festivities (Merry Christmas, by the way) with this important announcement:

December 31, 2019 is not (the Colonel says again, NOT) "the last day of the decade."

The Colonel knows this comes as quite a shock to many of you recovering from other shocks received lately.

Some of you were shocked to find that, despite the fulfillment of your congressperson's pre-inaugural impeachment promise, Donald Trump is still ensconced in the Oval Office.  Understanding just a little bit of our Constitution would have insulated you from that voltage.

Some of you were shocked to see that a college football team, from another state, to which you rabidly claim allegiance -- even though you've never been within 50 miles of the campus, wear a Walmart-bought affinity T-shirt, and proclaim "We whupped y'all!" after every win -- didn't make the play-offs this year.  Don't worry, Bama Bandwagon Boors, there's still a few LSU T-shirts left at your local Wally World -- Chinese sweatshops are crankin' 'em out faster than you can ask, "Siri, where is Baton Rouge?"   

Some of you (like the Colonel his own self) were shocked to see that Ole Miss, whose administration has been so active in the erasure of any name, monument, or tradition that even remotely infringes on the tender feelings of whiny social justice warriors and tyrannical political correctness priests, would, after dismissing one coach for "indiscretions" and his successor for "failure," hire a new coach for whom those characterizations are career hallmarks.  

The Colonel will admit that he is responsible for his own exposure to the voltage in this case -- he started to care about Ole Miss again.  Bad habits are the hardest to break. 

Some of you were shocked (as was the Colonel) to hear that the new "sixth" branch of the military services -- the Space Force -- would fall under the Department of the Air Force.  Hello?!?  Anybody whose ever watched an episode of Star Trek knows that Space belongs to the Navy.

Plus, the Department of the Navy already has experience with managing rouge elements it knows absolutely nothing about.

Looking at you, fellow jarheads.


Fear not, gentle readers, the Colonel is getting to the point of this prattle.

In introduction of that point, a history lesson.

The year was 1999.  As that year drew to a close, breathless (and brainless) commentators, prognosticators, and charlatans began an ever-increasing drum beat of retrospection and prediction regarding the impending end of the millennium.  There was just one little problem.

They were a whole year early.

The second millennium -- the second set of one thousand years, as established and counted by Christian societies (and a Roman emperor) --  actually ended on the 31st of December in the year of our Lord 2000.  January 1, 2001 was the first day of the new millennium.  

Shocking!

Here's even more shocking news:  Each decade ends in a year with the numeral 0 (not 9) at the end.

The Colonel knows that some of you are skeptical of his claim.  So, try this.  Take out ten one dollar bills from your wallet and place them on a clean, flat surface proximal to the reach of your arms.  Grasp the stack of bills in one hand and count them out as if you were paying yourself one dollar for each year you lived this decade.  One dollar for 2011, one more for 2012, and so on.  When you get to 2019, how many one dollar bills will you have counted out?

C'mon, this is easy math -- even for the Colonel.  Doesn't even require taking off your shoes.

The answer is: NINE.

"But, but..., Colonel," you argue, "you started the decade at 2011.  That's a trick!"

Yes, yes he did. And, no it's not a trick, because the first year of the present decade was 2011.

Okay, the Colonel knows this is hard to take at face value.  So, let's try this experiment with the same parameters, but in a different setting.

Let's imagine that we are shepherds working on the outskirts of a wide spot in the road south of Jerusalem, called Bethlehem.  We had a life-changing experience ten years ago, and we have accounted for the passing of the years since by numbering them as each began.  For example, one shepherd says to the next, "We are in the first year AA (after angels)".  We are at the beginning of the tenth year since that startling night.  What year is it?

For the LSU and Bama grads struggling with this, there's a not-so subtle clue in the eighth word of the second to last sentence above.

For the rest of you, congratulations for saying the correct answer, "Ten" out loud and startling those around you (even though your shame if caught reading the Colonel's drivel probably means you're sitting somewhere alone).  

Now let's assume that we shepherds only get paid at the end of each decade.  The not-so bright shepherd (you know, the one wearing the "Feel the Bern" tunic) announces at sundown of 31 December 09, "See y'all (well..., he is from south of Jerusalem) later.  I'm headed to town to collect my wages."  He shows back up at camp at sunrise on 1 January 10 after having made a trip to town to see the boss and complains bitterly to the rest of the lads (and lassies) that "I worked the whole decade of the 00's for that scrooge and he only paid me for nine years!"  

So, what do the rest of us do?  Does the old retired centurion stand up and bellow, "Follow me boys (and girls)!  We're on strike!  Let the boss tend his own stinkin' sheep!"   

Or, do we shake our heads at the utter stupidity of the members of the DSJ (Democratic Socialists of Judea) and go back to poking sticks in the fire?

See, there is no year 0 in our modern calendar.  It begins as 1 A.D. (or C.E.).  So, in the first decade A.D., only 9 years had elapsed at the end of 9 A.D.  In the first century A.D., only 99 years had elapsed at the end of 99 A.D.  In the first millennia A.D., only 999 years had elapsed at the end of 999 A.D.  In the second millennia A.D., only 1999 years had elapsed at the end of the year 1999.  

So, the current millennium did not begin on 1 January 2000.  It actually began on 1 January 2001.  And, the current decade did not begin on 1 January 2010, but 1 January 2011, and will not end until midnight on 31 December2020 / 1January 2021. 

Here's where the Colonel has to admit that what he just told you may not be 100% true.

For about 1600 years the western world marked the passing of days and years using a calendar commissioned by Julius Caesar in 46 B.C.  This Julian Calendar began each new year on 1 January, but during the medieval period western Europe, Britain in particular, began to begin each year in the middle of March (for various reasons associated with either solar cycles or religious holiday associations).  The Julian Calendar did account for the scientific fact that the earth revolves around the sun every 365 and almost a quarter days (365.24 to be more exact), by adding an extra day to February every four years.   

The problem with this quick fix was that over centuries that .01 day (roughly 11 minutes) error added extra days to the actual count of days elapsed.  By the middle of the 16th Century A.D., that .01 day error had badly un-synced the human calendar and actual solar calendar.   A calendar commissioned by Pope Gregory XIII (no relation to the Colonel) in 1582, attempted to correct the flaw in the Julian Calendar.  The Gregorian Calendar included a more accurate calculation that added an extra day to February in years divisible by four...

...unless the year is also divisible by 100.

The Colonel ain't makin' this up, and it gets even more complicated.

If the leap year is divisible by 100, but also divisible by 400, the leap day is added anyway.  

Makes the Colonel want to watch "Catch 22" and "Monty Pithon's the Holy Grail" again.  For the umpteenth time each...

Viewed as a nefarious "Papist Plot" in many quarters, the Gregorian Calendar was not uniformly adopted across the western world.  By the time Britain (and her far flung colonies) got around to adopting the Gregorian Calendar (nearly two centuries after its introduction), the British Empire's calendar was out of sync with the rest of the western world by nearly two whole weeks.  

An act of Parliament adopted the Gregorian calendar in 1752, and the British had to jump from 2 September to 14 September to adjust to it.  

The Colonel kids thee not.  

While lots of British subjects were unhappy with the loss of those 11 days for a variety of reasons that you can well imagine, Ben Franklin is reported to have remarked favorably about the idea of going to bed on the night of the 2nd of September and not having to get out of bed until the morning of the 14th.  

The Colonel kinda knows the feeling -- when he hit the rack last night he was 22.  When he woke up this morning, the Colonel was four weeks shy of his 64th birthday.

And, if you think that the calendar we are using today (it's the Gregorian Calendar, by the way) is keeping perfectly modern track of time..., well..., you're wrong.   The eggheads that make their living studying the numbers tell us that, if we keep the Gregorian Calendar until then, by the year 4909 (in which the Colonel might not be still be pestering you with his posts) a twenty-six second error per year will result in the Gregorian Calendar being one full day ahead of the solar calendar.
    
Anyway...,  the Colonel's bottom line, regardless whether we've kept track of the actual count of days elapsed since the inception of the Julian Calendar (and it's minor Gregorian modification), is that all of you breathlessly celebrating that "last" this and that "of the decade" are a year early.

The Colonel thinks he'll settle the matter in his own life by burning all the calendars within reach of his frost-nipped and tendinitis-ravaged finger tips.

Oh, and a year-long nap might be in order, as well.

See you next decade!        


                     

Nothing More Than Feelings

The Colonel is a heartless creature, empty of empathy and short on sympathy.

You want him that way.

The Republic needs men and women like the Colonel -- cold, calculating, rational...,

...unfeeling.

While the rest of humanity pines for the ease of a life where the phrase "I feel that..." precedes all pronouncements of policy positions, there must be those hated few who keep the rest grounded in reality.

The Colonel's bride, best friend, and permanent life journey co-marcher -- the comely and kind hearted Miss Brenda -- is a world-class "feeler."  She possesses a heart the size of Montana.

Why Montana?  

Because the Colonel likes to see his Texan friends pay attention, and slighting them is a sure way to accomplish that mission.

Works with Bama and LSU fans as well.

But, the Colonel digresses.

Last evening, the Colonel was ensconced in his comfy leather chair parked front and center of his far-too-small 50" flat screen (he means, c'mon there's room on that wall for at least a 75"), perusing the cable news opinion prattle.  The comely and kind hearted Miss Brenda was couch-side tending to her current quilting project and paying about as much attention to the discussion of politics and policy as an armadillo pays to traffic, when one of the talking heads said something that caused her to pause mid-stitch,

"That's not right."

The Colonel jumped at the sudden sound to his right, unaccustomed to any other sound during his nightly perusal of the cable news opinion prattle, save his own shallow breathing.  He turned to see the comely and kind hearted Miss Brenda glaring at the far-too-small flat screen (seriously, the Colonel could easily fit an 80" on that wall), "What's that dear? Did you lose your needle again?" 

She pointed toward the far-too-small flat screen with her dainty chin (the Colonel loves that chin..., and seriously, if Vizio ever comes out with a 100" model...), "That's not right.  I don't feel that they should be able to do that."

"Your 'feelings' have zero bearing on the issue," the Colonel growled dismissively.

"Don't be dismissive with me, old man!" The comely and kind hearted Miss Brenda was no longer pointing her dainty chin at the far-too-small (see previous paragraphs) flat screen.  Her green eyes were flashing at the Colonel over her readers, "and, what's wrong with your voice? You sound like a puppy fighting over a bone." 

"Who you callin' a puppy? That was the Colonel's dismissive growl, developed during a career of interminable staff meetings, and meant to strike mortal terror in the hearts of staff weenies wasting the operators' time."

"Whatever..." Obviously the comely and kind hearted Miss Brenda had realized the error of her ways and was now submitting to the intellectual superiority of...

"What's wrong with your face, knucklehead?  You've got that haughty Obama look going on."

The Colonel glared toward his beautiful bride, "That's the 'Colonel's haughty look.' Obama stole it from the Colonel." 

"Whatever..." (The Colonel has a very submissive wife.) "I just don't feel that they should be able to do that."

"Well...," the Colonel dropped his dismissive growl (puppy, indeed! -- she probably thinks Moby Dick was a minnow) and assumed his practiced pedantic pontification persona.  "There's no law against it."

"Well, I feel like there should be."

"It would be unconstitutional.  And..., nowhere in the Constitution of our great Republic is the concept of 'feelings' found." 

"How would it be 'unconstitutional?'" The comely and kind hearted Miss Brenda emphasized the last word in what the Colonel recognized as her mocking attempt to impersonate the Colonel's practiced pedantic pontification persona.  The Colonel might have been offended if..., well..., if he had any feelings.  

"Ever heard of the Bill of Rights, dear?  What you are proposing would violate at least two of the rights protected in the first ten amendments to our Constitution."

"Well," the comely and kind hearted Miss Brenda huffed, "they need to change those amendments, then."

"First," the Colonel shifted into a whole 'nuther gear in his practiced pedantic pontification persona, "you can't 'change' an amendment to the Constitution.  In order to undo something in the Constitution, or an amendment thereto, you must ratify another amendment.  For example, the 18th Amendment to the Constitution, ratified in 1919, outlawed the production, transport, and sale of alcohol.  It was superseded in 1933 by the 21st Amendment lifting this prohibition; but, the 18th Amendment itself was not changed and remains in the Constitution."

"Well, that's stupid.  Why do they do that?"

"In the Colonel's not-so-humble opinion, that's part of the overall genius of the U.S. Constitution -- leaving the language of the amended portions of the original Constitution and superseded amendments intact provides an historical road map for posterity."

"Yeah.  I know, I know. It's always about history with you isn't it?"

The Colonel didn't so much ignore the comely and kind hearted Miss Brenda's jibe as much as took it as a compliment.  He continued, "The constitutional process for changing anything in the U.S. Constitution is prohibitively protracted." The Colonel was wound up and reveling in the opportunity to educate, "Article V of the Constitution provides for two means of proposing an amendment for ratification consideration.  One is via Congress -- either by a two-thirds majority of both the House and Senate, or by a national convention called by Congress (which ain't likely to happen).  The other is what is currently being called "A Convention of States," where two-thirds of the states themselves call for a national convention."

The Colonel paused in a quick beseeching prayer, "Lord, if you love me -- and I don't doubt that you do -- you'll allow me to be selected as a state representative to the coming convention of states. Amen."

The Colonel noticed that the comely and kind hearted Miss Brenda's patience was wearing ever-so-slightly thin and began to wrap up his practiced pedantic pontification, "Any proposed amendment must be ratified by two-thirds of the states in order to take effect.  So, you see, it ain't an easy proposition."

"Why is it so hard for you men to do anything?"

The Colonel ignored the overt sexism in the comely and kind hearted Miss Brenda's remark, "Because..., had it been easy, anytime somebody felt that a change should be made -- based on their heart and not their head -- the limitations and protections of the greatest form of government ever devised by man would have been erased and the Republic would have foundered within its first generation."   

"Well, I still feel like we should..."

The Colonel, empty of empathy, short on sympathy, and lacking even a modicum of tact, cut her off summarily.

"Yep, you and 150 million brainless socialists."     

                

Nomenclature

“You may be 38 years old, as I happen to be. And one day, some great opportunity stands before you and calls you to stand up for some great principle, some great issue, some great cause. And you refuse to do it because you are afraid…. You refuse to do it because you want to live longer…. You’re afraid that you will lose your job, or you are afraid that you will be criticized or that you will lose your popularity, or you’re afraid that somebody will stab you, or shoot at you or bomb your house; so you refuse to take the stand.

Well, you may go on and live until you are 90, but you’re just as dead at 38 as you would be at 90. And the cessation of breathing in your life is but the belated announcement of an earlier death of the spirit.”

     -- Martin Luther King Jr.

Here's where the Colonel stands.  The Colonel is a critically thinking, classically liberal, socially conservative, anti-fascist, (little "r") republican, (big "C") Constitutionalist.

If that nomenclature seems incongruous or doesn't make sense, then you are one, some, or all of the below:

     a) a spoiled, public school-educated member of the very fascist organization known as ANTIFA;

     b) a public school-educated Millennial who thinks the very fascist organization known as ANTIFA is actually anti-fascist;

     c) a low-information voter from either side of the political divide who spends more time generating and sharing Facebook memes poking fun at the other political party and its leaders, than engaging in the critical thought and continuing education required to logically and civilly defend your position on issues of the day;

     d) an LSU or Bama graduate;

     e) a current member of the U.S. Congress

     f) someone with a real life, who has far more important things to do with their time than to spend it, as the Colonel does, researching and writing about the arcane.

Allow the Colonel to break down his name and nomenclature for you:

Colonel.  Military rank achieved during nearly three decades of service as an infantry officer in the United States Marine Corps.  (The Colonel remains at a loss to explain how a man of meager talent and ability as he could attain such rank and will have you know that he retired before the Marine Corps made the colossal mistake of making him a general.)

Classically Liberal.  The great thinkers from whose minds and experience the concept of classical liberalism sprung -- Adam Smith, John Locke, Thomas Robert Malthus, Jean-Baptiste Say,  David Ricardo, Thomas Jefferson, and other critical thinkers -- saw free market capitalism as the greatest guarantor of both an individual's opportunity to achieve self-actualization (not a term they used at the time) and a society's opportunity to thrive economically.  A classical liberal sees the modern social liberal (read: socialist) welfare state as antithetical to the above and actually preventive of individual self-actualization and society's economic prosperity.  A classical liberal believes in a limited government (like the one designed by the crafters of the U.S. Constitution) which purpose is limited to:

     -- the protection of individual rights
     -- the provision of services not provided in a free market
     -- the provision of a common defense against foreign invaders
     -- the enactment and enforcement of civil laws
     -- ensuring a stable currency and appropriate infrastructure for             communications and commerce 

* It should be noted that, contrary to the currently popular and uneducated socialist canard, the perceived comparative decline in economic opportunity and standard of living for the most recent generations is NOT due to any excesses or imperfections in free market capitalism, but rather, has been brought about primarily as a result of the socialist abandonment of free market capitalism in favor of the welfare state and central economic planning.  Many uninformed social liberals point to Sweden as an example of the success of their concept of "democratic socialism."  The truth is  that Sweden's abandonment of classical liberalism and free market capitalism to experiment with radical democratic socialism nearly wrecked their economy and was demonstrating dramatic declines in individual liberty and economic productivity until recently arrested by classical liberal governmental and economic reforms that have restored Sweden's vibrancy -- in other words, Sweden looks so good today precisely because they are returning to free market capitalism and away from statism and the welfare state.  

Socially Conservative.  The foundation of the Colonel's social conservatism is his personal relationship with his Creator (the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob), made possible by the atoning sacrifice of Jesus, faith in whom animates the Colonel by the indwelling of the Holy Spirit.  The Colonel takes no side on any social issue without consideration of God's will for him.  God's spirit not only convicts the Colonel of personal sin, but also grants him (and all who seek His will) spiritual discernment to know what is right in His eyes and what is the Colonel's right actions toward others.  In other words, the Colonel's social conservatism is not his personal position -- it is the position God convicts him to take.  It is the position of grace toward all other humans.  

*The Colonel recognizes that he ain't real graceful toward others most times -- this post included.  He ain't perfect, but God's not through with him yet.    

Anti-fascist.  Websters Dictionary defines fascism as: "a political philosophy, movement, or regime that exalts nation and often race above the individual and that stands for a centralized autocratic government headed by a dictatorial leader, severe economic and social regimentation, and forcible suppression of opposition [italics, the Colonel's]." 

Fascism, as the Colonel opposes it and as is otherwise defined, is a concept for the creation of a regulated economic structure to transform social relations within a modern, self-determined culture.  Practitioners of fascism are uninhibited in their use of violence as a tool for persuading others to accede to their viewpoint. 

(The very fascist organization which moronically calls itself ANTIFA is the very living, breathing, hypocritically incarnate definition of fascism.)     

Dictatorial, or authoritarian, fascism has been the end result of nearly every society's headlong dive into the socialist shallow end of the governmental systems pool.  Those who wish to impose a socialist system on the American people (in direct opposition to the original intent of the U.S. Constitution) disguise their motives by placing the word "democratic" in the title, "Democratic Socialism."  To the history-challenged and politically uninformed, this makes this brand of socialism sound almost benign.  But, make no mistake, democratic socialism is in fact mob rule over a forced wealth redistribution (as opposed to voluntary charity) system that will always place the most charismatic tyrants in charge.
    
The goal of democratic socialism, in its proponents' and practitioners' own words, is:

"that both the economy and society should be run democratically—to meet public needs, not to make profits for a few. To achieve a more just society, many structures of our government and economy must be radically transformed through greater economic and social democracy so that ordinary Americans can participate in the many decisions that affect our lives." (Platform of the Democratic Socialist Party of America)

The above sounds really nice and all..., but it ain't what our nation was founded on and for -- far, far from it.  Our current system of government (at least the one enshrined in our Constitution) already guarantees the opportunity for "ordinary Americans" to "participate in the many decisions that affect our lives."  Which leads the Colonel to his last points.

The Colonel is a (big "C") Constitutionalist.  The Colonel loves and reveres the Constitution of the United States and the representative republic (NOT a democracy) that it (by "We the People") created and sustains.  And not just because he swore a solemn and everlasting oath to "support and defend" with his life.  The Colonel loves and reveres the U.S. Constitution because he KNOWS it, and in the knowing -- in the continuing study and rediscovery of its genius and corrected flaws -- the Colonel finds an abiding appreciation for the checks and balances that both give voice to the "ordinary Americans" and protects them from their own excesses of partisanship and avarice.  

The Colonel is a (little "r") republican because his knowledge of history and albeit marginal ability to think critically informs him that unchecked democracies always implode into tyranny.  The U.S. Constitution was written by men whose knowledge of history and ability to think critically informed them that, in the Colonel's words, "There's a fine, popular line between freedom and tyranny. A strict interpretation of the United States' Constitution keeps that line bright and visible." 

Far more learned men than the Colonel, acting on far more wise principle than he, subordinated their own partisanship and avarice to create and sustain the Constitution of the United States and the representative republican form of government for which it is the Peoples' guidebook.  

Far be it from the Colonel to consider, let alone advocate, any other system of government for the People of America... and the Americas. 

All the foregoing being said, if the People of our land do decide in democratic fervor to once again "dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature's God entitle them," the Colonel stands ready to assume the mantle of responsibility as a relatively  benevolent dictator.

Let's pray, for all our sake, it never comes to that.   

Confessions of a Carbaholic

The Colonel has a confession to make public.  The guilt of his transgression is growing inside of him like an alien in Sigourney Weaver's belly and he has to fess up early, or later give unnatural birth to a monstrous scandal.

The Colonel had a chocolate chip cookie for dessert last night. 

There! 

Whew!

The Colonel can feel the beast dying inside, dissolving in the second mug of black coffee-induced gastric juices flooding past the check valve missing since his cholecystectomy.

(For the proud GED-holders who make up the vast majority of the Bama and LSU fan bases, a cholecystectomy is the surgical procedure in which one is liberated from a malfunctioning gall bladder and then is subsequently relegated to a life of measuring distances to the nearest restroom.)

The Colonel knows, one chocolate chip cookie isn't the dieters'  crime of the century, but..., for a carbaholic like him, chocolate chip cookies are a gateway drug.  

The sugar high from a fistful of cookies cannot be replicated by just another fistful.  

Next comes ice cream.

And, not just a taste of ice cream in a small desert goblet -- we're talking a medium sized mixing bowl of straight, uncut vanilla, garnished with a fistful of chocolate cookies.  

Oh..., did the Colonel mention that, during his retirement physical sixteen years ago, he was diagnosed as a Type II Diabetic?

Could've had a little something to do with a life of self-medication for his career's physical and mental stress with massive amounts of sweets.  The Colonel is painfully aware that he has no one to blame but himself.  

Here's the point where folks who know the Colonel well say, "But, but..., you are so skinny and stayed so physically active as a Marine!  Didn't you get enough stress relief from the 'runner's high'?"

Runner's high?  You mean the other gateway drug?

The first thing the Colonel did after a long run was accentuate the "runner's high" with a candy bar or three. 

The sheer mass of sugary empty calories the Colonel has ingested over his lifetime, if placed in a pile in the middle of one of his fields here aboard his vast holdings at the shallow northern end of deep southern nowhere, would implode to the density of a singularity at the center of a tiny black hole that would easily consume the planet.

Okay..., the Colonel exaggerates.

The sucrose singularity of the tiny black hole wouldn't consume the whole planet -- just the northwestern quadrant of the globe, leaving the big blue marble looking like the not-quite completed death star in the movie, "St...

You get the picture.

The day after last Thanksgiving, the Colonel stepped onto the bathroom scales...

He quickly stepped off and went looking for his reading cheaters.  

The cheaters didn't change the number on the scale's digital readout.  Well..., maybe they added an ounce or two...  

The Colonel was a good twenty pounds in excess of his "fighting weight."  He immediately placed himself on the Army of Northern Mississippi's (for which organization he is the commanding general..., and one-man fighting force) Weight Control and Physical Appearance Program. 

The Colonel had an appointment with his doctor a couple of weeks later...

"Colonel, your weight is up a few pounds since your last visit, and your A1C is north of 8.  Are you still staying active?"

"Active?  His scales indicate the Colonel has been actively ingesting any and all foodstuffs within reach."

The doctor looked over his shoulder, "Who are you talking about?"

"Using the third person to self-refer, Doc.  It's the Colonel's verbal version of nails on a chalkboard -- keeps potential threats on edge."

"Not working," Doc pointed at the A1C number on the Colonel's chart.  "We need to get that number down below 7." 

"We? Doc, appreciate your empathetic participation in the Colonel's health care," Doc reflexively looked over his shoulder and then back at the Colonel -- now slightly on edge, "but, this is all on the Colonel.  Started a diet two weeks ago." 

"You picked the wrong time of year to do that." Doc's usually soothing bedside manner was replaced by a more edgy delivery.  The Colonel resisted taking advantage of a "told you so" moment.

"Well, Doc," the Colonel drew himself up to his full 5 foot 6 and 3/4s (don't ever forget the 3/4s), "the Colonel ain't smart and you can't make him." 


Seven weeks into his self-imposed torture regimen (aka: low-carb diet) the Colonel is halfway back to his fighting weight.  He's experiencing serious sugar-withdrawal symptoms this morning, but at least the guilt beast in his belly won't have so much fat to burst through.