The Thong is Gone But the Malady Lingers On

I can never remember all the words to a song. I often find myself whistling a tune quite well, but the lyrics are lost when I am involved in a sing-along. I continue singing, but add only Da, Da, Da’s. On one occasion, our group of couples, after enjoying a New York theater show found ourselves in a piano-bar lounge. The pianist had us guessing on tunes he would play. After just a few tries, we got zeroed-in and it was not long before our age-fortified group began to shout out the title within three notes, sometimes astonishingly after only two notes played.

I have lost the talent to whistle any tune written after 1955. However, I have acquired one talent since viewing the passing parade of politics in America. That talent remains with me today. After a few notes played by the political contender, it is not unusual for me to title the aspirant, “I’m On To You.” I can go back in time and point to when this talent first began to form. As a child, our family looked down upon the great French Liner Normandy lying sunk and smoking on its side in a berth in New York City. No exact reason was given for this however, sabotage and the fact that France had fallen to the Nazis just before we entered WW2 had a lot to do with it. President Roosevelt did not give the ship back upon Adolf Hitler’s request after it was re-floated. WW2 intrigued me while in puberty, and I became an expert in enemy and friendly aircraft identification. After Pearl Harbor the nation was unified as never before, so little political animosities filled our minds. Unconditional surrender of our enemies was unanimous.

As I entered adolescents and age of thirteen, I believed I would become a Communist. Russia had been our ally in the European War however I was merely curious at their declaration to enter the Asian war days before Japan surrendered. This New York City kid had an 18-year-old bookworm muse, tutoring our little circle of street urchins regarding Communist Mao Tse Tung’s certain victory in China’s civil war. I learned of Cell structures created by Community Organizers to undermine the existing social order; to strike when the time was right. I learned of Vladimir Lenin’s followers he called, “Useful Idiots.” My tutor’s dream was to become a card-carrying Communist Party member at the age of twenty-one. Fortunately, his tutelage inspired my interest in reading. Thus, it was that I fell into American History. It was a history not taught to adolescents in public schools. That is, it did not delve into the profiles of the founders that were responsible for this miracle and unique nation that remains different from all others today.

One major difference today, is the makeup of the Fourth Estate; those champions of truth courageously informing the Mob, (that’s us infidels) into the true nature of politically surreptitious and indeed traitorous schemes to personal wealth has disappeared.