Wednesday, April 04, 2007

Trotting out that old beast

The left is trying to revive the seventies.

For starters, the left has been attempting to revive the tragedy that was our cut-and-run from Vietnam. They’re doing their best to put us right back there, also and especially, in regard to trusting our government. Except that, this time, it’s not the President who’s Nixonian in degree of corruption, it’s the Speaker of the House and her little clique of would-be-kings, er, ah, queens, er -- whatever.

Switch on the Wayback Machine, Sherman.

Does anybody here truly remember the 1970s? Or is it merely the fog of senility creeping over the baby boomers in charge? The decade in question was when, in movies, there were no heroes, no direct plots, no points to the stories, no point at all. Men suffered to wear polyester leisure suits with wide white belts, and we women broke our legs trying to dance in platform shoes as Donna Summer sang “Dim All the Lights.” And, of course, for many, the lights were dimmed ultimately via chemical alteration to the brain.

As if the seventies weren’t horrifying enough in simple acid flashbacks, somebody is trying to put us back where we were when domestic terrorists killed an innocent student in Wisconsin and police officers and bystanders elsewhere, or when we were held hostage to Iran and OPEC.

Of course, back then, times were great because everybody suffered grave oppression.

O! for the halcyon days when when women and blacks could own no property, when the law said wives could be beaten, when... no, wait, that was 1670, not 1970. But since the 1970s are so popular once more, naturally the leftists are trying once again to pass an “Equal Rights Amendment.”

Yeah, we really need one of those, because there are no rights for women or gays or any other regular folks in this country. The Constitution of the United States only protects rich male landowners, the way it always has and always will. The rest of us are merely chattel, aren’t we?

I have no future of my own. I have no voice in the decision-making for my own life, I have nothing but the burden of being a wife and mother, and, if not that, then I am to be cast aside like all the other nonentities. Therefore, I need the aid and protection of hard-core man-hating anti-family feminists and the knights who protect and serve them.

Isn’t that right?

More than thirty years ago, they trotted out that old dog. They tried to tell us we were oppressed, that we were unprotected by laws, that we had no rights unless a special law singled us out for special treatment. But, as the old saying goes, that dog don’t hunt. As voters, we women are citizens of this great nation. As citizens, we have all the same rights and responsibilities as every other citizen. And, should somebody attempt to deny us our rights, we have full access to courts and the redress accorded to all citizens. Is that so bad?

I have nothing against feminism. I am, after all, a feminist, myself. I believe in the equality of the intellect and spirit of men and women. I believe we are highly compatible -- not identical, but balanced. I believe we bring our own individual talents to the table, and that is a very Martha-Stewarty “good thing.” We don’t need laws to force us to pretend we’re all the same. If we were all identical, we’d either be pretty darned dull, or -- if everybody were identical to me -- pretty darned annoying.

I suppose being cogs in a great socialist machine sounds like a dream if you have issues of self-esteem. Then, everybody gets ground down to the same level of misery. But for those of us who have some small talent, the idea of becoming uniform, of dulling ourselves down to the level of, say, the complacent French worker is the ultimate fright.

I don’t want the government to have power in my life even as much as it already does -- why would I support its taking on more from me? Why would I want to live a single second of the leftist nightmare, the one they fought and killed for in the1970s?

And, why on earth would anybody in his right mind want to relive Disco Fever?

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