The State (sermon) of the Union

Barack Obama’s State of the Union address last night was nothing less than a lesson in how to present oneself as a benevolent and caring monarch, keeping the underlings’ hopes full, while their bellies go empty.

Case in point. Obama said that we need to,

“. . . stop tax-payer funded bail-outs”.

Uh . . . excuse me? That’s like the thief telling the judge that we need better home alarm systems. OBAMA IS THE BOND AGENT! He’s the one that did the bailing! Sure, George W. Bush was the first one to grab the dipper, but he never feigned innocence and said we need to stop it. I didn’t like when W did it either, but I really don’t like it when the big ‘O’ gets indignant at the practice.

Like most Libs, he relies on his constituency being too ignorant to put it together.

Lucky for him, Republicans are too cowardly to hammer it home.

He also, as most Liberals do, gave an example that was egregiously incongruent with the current economic condition of the nation. He said,

“During World War II, when men like my grandfather went off to war, having women like my grandmother in the workforce was a national security priority – so this country provided universal childcare.”

Okay Mr. Obama, free childcare, got it. And just as soon as World War III breaks out and just about all the men in America are gone from the country to fight on foreign soil, then we can give out free childcare again.

But the difference is idealogical, not economical. The rift goes deep, to the core of ones values. Actually, to the core of American values – freedom and liberty. According to Obama and the Democrats, the Government should control Mr. and Mrs. America’s hard-earned business.

“You didn’t build that.”

I know I know, right, I didn’t build that, fine Mr. President, I get it. But let’s say – just for the sake of argument – that it was me who worked those three jobs to save the start-up money to open that shoe sandwich shop, and let’s say for the sake of argument that it was me who didn’t go to the movies, buy that new suit, frequent that four-star restaurant every week to do it. And let’s say that it was me who talked my wife into working till two in the morning on our business model at the kitchen table every night while I cleaned, arranged, re-painted and remodeled the interior of the commercial space that I pay the rent for every month to establish, maintain and grow my business and keep it running. Just for the sake of argument, let’s say it wasn’t the Government that did all that. What you’re saying is that you and the Government can MAKE ME PAY an employee to NOT WORK because he is sick?

Hey, I got an idea. How about this. If my employee doesn’t like not being paid while he’s at home with a cold, he can go to work for someone else? I mean, it is my business, right?

“You didn’t build that.”

(sigh) Let’s move on.

So that’s the rift, the rub, the idealogical divide that I, and others who voted for a Republican Senate, have with the President and his Dem! cohorts. I think my business is mine to control, he and the Democrats think my business is theirs to control.

“Well,” say Obama and the Libs, “what about the black guy who can’t get a job because he’s black? Huh? What about that?”

Okay, let’s picture it. Walk with me, if you will. A guy owns a restaurant. He has a black guy apply for manager and a white guy apply for manager. The black guy has a degree in business, he’s articulate, well spoken, personable, intelligent, and has a history of bringing the his previous restaurants into a strong profit-bearing and successful enterprise.

The white guy didn’t finish high school and he can barely speak.

“I don’t know, Margaret,” says the business owner to his wife, “It looks like we’re going to have to let Mervel run the diner, and send that educated and smart negro on down the road.”

“Do you think we should, Bill?” asks Margaret. “James pulled out all those other restaurants from bankruptcy, and his former employers say he’s fantastic.”

“But Margaret,” says Bill, reminding his wife, “Mervel is white.”

“Ohhhh, yes,” replies Margaret, “well, sure. Who cares if our business goes under, let’s just make sure no black people work for us, especially since we have that big sign out front saying, ‘Whites only’.”

“We’re so smart, aren’t we Margaret?”

“We sure are, Bill.”

At one time, that conversation may not be so far from reality. Say, fifty years ago? But will anyone say such a conversation would ever take place today? Black people have money. They spend money. And no business owner would ever dream of denying himself, or herself, that demographic of a prosperous and available market.

I could use many other examples, but space doesn’t permit. Suffice to say, we don’t need Government regulating what any of us can do with our hard-earned cash, let alone a Government run by people who keep reaching into our pockets to get it!

Kind of went away from the State of the Union thing, but Obama didn’t give us a report on the state of out union, he gave us a sermon.

If he wanted to preach, he should have been an imam.

Anyway, we all know how our country is doing. We don’t need the President to give us a hard sell on it.

Obama wants the Congress to give him,

“. . . trade promotion authority to protect American workers, with strong new trade deals from Asia to Europe that aren’t just free, but fair.”

When Obama took office, our debt was under ten trillion dollars. It’s now eighteen trillion. That’s $18,000,000,000,000.

When Obama took office, he said his would be “the most transparent Administration” in history.

We still don’t have the documents regarding his gun-running to Mexico that resulted in one of our border agent’s death.

When he was campaigning, he said he believed marriage “should be between one man and one woman.”

Now he’s in favor of gay marriage.

No, I don’t want the Congress to give him any more authority for any damned thing! If he wants more authority, let him violate the law and take it like he’s doing with immigration.

According to the President,

“. . . the State of the Union is strong.”

No Mr. President, it isn’t. But don’t worry your little head. It just might be, a couple of years from now.

About the Author

Joe Keck is a writer of horror, thriller, suspense, and other fiction, some poetry and music, with the occasional op-ed piece on current events, politics, and theology. Although born in Oklahoma, he was taken to Los Angeles when he was an infant, or as his mother described, "the ugliest little thing I've ever seen", and raised there on the West Coast. He considers himself to be far superior to most on the artistic merits of film and literature, seeing the vast majority of such to be well below adequate. He has four novels and many short stories to his credit, and hopes to one day have them published, promising to hold critics like himself in harsh derision. He's currently restoring a Jason 35 sailboat and plans to sail the world, writing horror stories, and marveling at the illustrative works of the Creator and His Divine story-telling imagery. You may Find Joe's Website at http://www.joekeck.com/

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