The State of the Nation: Being a Periodic Review of What's Heppening Now, No. 3

Out in Chicago land they convict the former governor, and he's soon on his way to the rock pile to join the guy he replaced.  That makes the state 2 for 2 in convict governors.  They oughta move the State House to Joliet or some other lock up and save a lot of time on trials.  I'm a pol in Illinois and I think it's time to get an honest job.  As a matter of fact, I'm anybody in Illinois and I'm thinking a nice igloo on an ice floe might be a good place to relocate myself to.  I mean what is up with that place.  Now they have Flash Mobs stripping stores like locusts strip corn fields.  And, when they ain't stripping stores, they're beating the stuffing out of anyone they see.

This is called after school activity, I guess.


The news says Blago the Magnificent was convicted of trying to shake down a hospital and sell the Senate seat that once held the skinny butt of the current president of these Untied States, which leaving that chair behind to go to the highest bidder begins to look like the smartest thing that "Maroon's" done so far.  I dunno but that "Blago" the Con should have been convicted for two other things: having an un-spellable, unpronounceable name and having the most stupid hair cut of any adult male in the country.  Then they should have gone on and indicted every person in the state who voted for this jerk.

In the meantime, former community organizer and Illinois Senator Obama is flying out to someplace west of the Hudson River...where, exactly doesn't matter, it's all the same...to talk to the folks about something called the economy.  Used to be when we had one it was the biggest in the world.  A few weeks ago I read that India, the land of elephants and tigers, holds that spot, now.  You think we're Avis to India's Hertz?  Think again, 'cause China, who is coming to the rescue of the Euro, is there, trying harder.  I don't know what Stretch can say to them farmers and truck drivers except maybe, "I'm sorry."  I have a pretty good idea what he will say though, "George did it.  Blame him, not me.  Gotta go now and rent a luxury hotel somewhere for me and my staff."

Back closer to home Andy boy is looking for re-election gold at the end of a rainbow and learning show tunes, I guess, while he helps pull the chain on Western Civ.  Enough said.

I'm really waiting to hear what B.O. has to say to those quiet folks out there in corn land about your dough and mine..  Maybe it's the first of a bunch of apologies, since three years ago he said he had a plan.  "Which one?" is my favorite question.  He'll be rubbing shoulders with the 14,000 Republican candidates all looking to come out on tope in the straw poll.  I figure there ain't enough straw in the world to go around.  Anyway, Bachmann and Ppalin are gonna shoot all the rest of them.

While they talk and shout and eat apple pie and apologize no one pays any attention to the hole in the roof and the fact that the floor's fallen into the cellar.

The hogs are happy though.

And, down in Los Alamos they're getting ready to have a fire sale.  What I can't figure is how do you have a wild fire in a desert?  It's a crazy ding dong place.  But, Oprah's got our back, so I ain't worried.  Not one bit.  I'm just gonna pry that horseshoe off the door and keep it in my pants.

Leastways with it there no one can whack me on the skull with it.

Victims

Mariellen and I provided the music during the recent funeral Mass of a young man who died in an auto accident.  He was 21.  We expected a number of his friends and former classmates from the town's High School to attend and our expectations were met.  I watched them as they came into the church singly and in small groups.  I could not call them mourners.  I could not call them anything more than curious bystanders, spectators, dis-interested observers who for the most part seemed not to have the slightest idea what was taking place or why they were there, these supposed adults. They seemed like what they really still were, a bunch of high school students who were summoned to the auditorium for some tiresome exercise.

It filled the time.  They sauntered, slouched, sneaked into the church, sprawled in the pews, chatted among each other before the Mass and through the preludes, gawked while the family, especially the young man's mother, staggered in their grief down the aisle and stared open mouthed at the coffin awaiting the Priest to begin the Mass.

As the procession with the coffin to the altar began they stood hands in pockets,sipping coffee, one or two texting, whispering and smiling to each other, or lolling around in their jeans and t-shirts, or too tight, too skimpy dresses exposing as much flesh as your average 8th avenue putana, teetering on stiletto heels and displaying garishly colored tattoos of roses and curlicues on arms and legs and who knew where else.

It happened about the time the second reading was finished, and the Gospel was read.  I noticed some of them looking forward toward what was going on.  Father Patrick gave a brief homily in which he reminded us all what would happen, and that no one knew when it might. By the time of the Consecration, something like order and a semblance of attention had taken place among them.  At least they kneeled when asked to do so.  I began to hope, as I prayed for it, that they were approaching some realization of the moment and its meaning.

At the end, as we sang the recessional hymn, I saw from my vantage many red rimmed eyes, and many sad and worried looks on the faces passing out beneath me.

I felt a great pity for these lost children who came into that place with absolutely no idea what was going to be done and were utterly unprepared to witness it and hear the message imparted.  Did I mention that the school was a public high school they all went to?  It was.  And, in one of those places from which God and all mention of God has been banished, and effectively banished from the lives of all of them beyond and after school, these victims of public education...for in this at least no one can say they have benefited...they spent four formative years being indoctrinated with the message that they are all they need to be; that there is, essentially, nothing more they need than what has been given them or what they can get with their own hands.  And, of both those things there is damn little if the evidence before my eyes that morning was any fair indication. 

 

We have raised up several generations now of people totally unaware of anything/one in which/whom to place their faith, and convinced that there is no need so to do.  There is, then, in my ever so humble opinion, absolutely nothing which holds us together as a people, no unifying set of beliefs.  It is the reason I refer to this place by what should now be recognized as its true name: the Untied States of America.

Spend an hour or two in any Mall across the land on a Sunday afternoon, especially, and ponder what Chesterton once said, "When people stop believing in God, they don't believe in nothing -- they believe in anything."  We have become empty.  Or, at least our children have.  As evidence of that I point to our chief legislative pornographer (pace Peggy Noonan in a recent WSJ article) Mr. Michael Weiner.

The Prince of This World is happy....if such a thing can be said of him.

What fools we all are for that, and what fire we build against ourselves.