“Fallacies do not cease to be fallacies because they become fashion.”
“A good novel tells us the truth about its hero; but a bad novel tells us the truth about its author.”
English writer G.K. Chesterton published works on philosophy, as well as works of fiction and fantasy. He was once called the “prince of paradox”. That title moved me to thinking about our present state of affairs in the body politic, namely the nation’s misdirected course advanced by Beaurat Obama.
We have a man, virtually unknown to the American public before 2001, coming into the public realm and capturing an audience with a greater facility than the Pied Piper herding rats to their doom. It appears our future as free and liberated individuals coming together to create the nation known as the United States of America is in peril as a result of this man’s (and his cronies’) actions.
The near meteoric rise of this faux “man of the people” is now scary and more readily recognizable as to what he represents than has ever been noted before. He’s in a seat of power. He’s empowered and he’s dangerous in his use of power.
Obama’s strength is in his command of words. Whether those words are his or more specifically those of a ghost writer key pounding for hire (as is suspected) in a dark, smoke-filled room isn’t really known, but the words were effective.
Dreams from my father and the Audacity of Hope were springboards vaulting the man to a position of admiration and damned near adulation as an erudite and consummate communicator. This is all well and good but now we know Dreams from my father is an act of fiction. Where we thought it was autobiographical it’s really is a book of cobbled together memories drawn, clipped, washed and grafted to a trunk of fallacy. People aren’t real in this book. They’re composites of individuals stitched together like Frankenstein’s monster once awaiting the stolen brain to energize the corpus to life. Karl Marx was the brain. Obama‘s not the brain so much as the lightning driving the spark of life deeply into a twisted soul re-energizing a once dormant evil.
Sounds like I’m waxing poetic here but there’s nothing poetic about the destruction and displacement of people’s individual liberties under the guise of progressive political endeavor. There’s nothing remotely poetic or artistic about the misdirection of a people’s attention to “see the light” of a false prophet. He appears to shine from his advertised goodness within when really it’s a matter of staring into the glare of a spotlight designed to sear your eye, rendering it useless for detecting the truths of personal discovery.
Everybody wants a hero to model themselves after; to appreciate for the cleanliness of their hearts and souls, to understand as their champion, to offer them hope. But hope should spring from understanding there’s possibility in our own actions; not that hope resides solely in the body of another. There is NO Great White Hope; there is NO Great Black Hope. There is only that anticipation of new prospects to try and develop when they’re good and leave behind when they don’t deliver.
This is as it should be. When hope dies on the vine for the over-application of fertilizer burning the roots of that plant’s hopeful growth to fruition, it must be set aside lest it kill the very ground that presented that sprout first. We must get the blinding light out of our eyes and cool the heat of our passionate drives so we may assess what’s necessary to bring that hope to fruition. If we’ve not found the right one to till the soil and tend the plants, we must find the one can do this properly.
By bypassing the Constitution and using Executive Orders Obama offers false hope to put in place of what liberties you need in order to give you what you think you think you want.
Think of this: “To have the right to do a thing is not at all the same thing as to be right in doing it.”
Chesterton got it right.
Thanks for listening.