The patriot: Finally a real hero!

Published 18 years ago -  - 18y ago 35

Tonight I did something I rarely do and went on a date to the theatre to see the new Mel Gibson movie, The Patriot and found it one of the best films to hit the silverscreen, ever! Mel has always been tops in my book, ever since Gallipoli, one of his earliest works. I sat in the darkened theatre transfixed from the very first scene on.

Straight away I was struck, as I watched King George burned in effigy, how much it would please me to see this done to our current Traitor-in-Chief and his harpy, meddling, arrogant know-it-all, snotty sophomoric wife. How pleasing this sight was, how it gave relief to my overburdened heart. First time ever, effigy struck a chord in me that has been aching to be screamed to the high heavens….a wail of retribution for all the atrocities perpetrated upon this Great Nation by the current lice infesting our government. (Apologies to the lice.)

I have been aware of the Communist influence since I was a girl–but I must confess, I have never had it shoved so mercilessly down my throat as in the last eight years. And if their ‘luck’ (read here, shitload of communist blood money and the protective liberal media propaganda machine) holds, we face the potential of many more years with the Hildebeast Herself polluting the country from New York state. Even though the country doesn’t want them, notwithstanding those damned ‘directive’ polls that are an attempt to tell those over-taxed and distracted by scraping through their lives what they and the rest of us ‘think’ or, more likely, ‘feel’, they disgust me on a daily basis. I don’t think I have ever been so sickened at the sight and sound of two people more. See what the bastards have done to me? My milieu used to be the home and hearth and workplace. My passion was the preservation of harmony and sanity, my love and joy was bringing life into the world and nurturing it to independent, autonomous adulthood. Not that I didn’t raise my voice to the kids now and again, yet now I am enraged by the felonious few who have brought the bile to my throat. Railing at the atrocities has become a battle cry for me and life will never be the same. How fucking dare they!

Living in New York state affords me the luxury of being surrounded by historical sights burned and bled into the memory of our Nation’s founding so few short centuries ago. Mile after mile, road markers and site identifiers take me back to the days when freedom rang in the hearts and minds of all those here who suffered under the boot of King George. Back to the days when bravery, valor, courage and selflessness were the words understood by so many–how unlike the problem some have today with the word ‘is’.

In the movie Gibson recreates the South Carolina farmer and widow, Benjamin Martin’s first choice to abstain the fight, for he has children to raise and they come first. Gee, what a contrast to Juan Miguele, Cuban “Parent of the Year” who cared only for his own neck and hung his own son out to dry in the Communist cesspool called Cuba. And, yeah, I realize Castro held Juan’s family hostage, but the child still comes first and so does a chance at the bloodline living in freedom in America. Those cowardly adults who were under house arrest awaiting the capitulation by Clinton and the reunion in Havana,–hell, were they my family, would have been prepared to give their own lives for an incredible little boy–the proper behavior of family. But then again, I have never understood how any person would choose life on their knees instead of honorable death on their feet.

My heart practically tore from my body to see the murder of Martin’s so young son as he was innocently trying to protect his teen aged brother from being dragged off for hanging. But my spirit took flight as Gibson went into his burning house (torched by the murderous, fucking Brits as a ‘lesson’), grabbed his hatchet and the guns and gave each one of his little boys a rifle bigger than themselves. When they took to the ambush, the children became men as they effected the rescue and left many dead in their wake. And these little boys were more’ man’ than Clinton or Hitlery could ever hope to be.

Even in the heart of a child of tender age, who’s mind should have no harder thoughts than splashing in the swimming hole after chores, freedom for life itself made them brave beyond imagining. I understand this is the scene so many ‘gun control’ activists bitched and whined about–an image now seared into my brain which gives me a second wind to fight the bastards now. “And the little child shall lead them” echoes in my ears. These little boys had more character in the dirt under their little-boy fingernails than the Clintons could ever dream. Of course, we all know, now, the absolute necessity for character in a leader, a person of power, a shaper of tomorrow. It wasn’t “the economy” then and it ain’t now. It is the glory of the sole remaining Superpower, notwithstanding that idiot Maddy Halfbright’s notion that this is not a good “sharing” thing. God save me, I have never been so embarrassed to live in a country dominated by these asses. What the fuck happened to my America? Where did civility go? Why is my Commander-in-Chief a rapist? (I have eliminated the word ‘alleged’ here, for I have seen the evidence and do not need a jury nullification to wipe that from my mind.) Why are the communists running my government? Why is all the technology–American ingenuity and excellence– sold to the highest bidder at the expense of my freedom? Why is effective spying by the commies so easy?

Even though the seat in that theatre still has my back aching, my mind is so filled with the images of how a real man behaves–towards his children, toward his relatives and friends, towards his country–I truly believe this movie will go the distance and be a boon for generations to come. How the contrast still haunts me between Gibson’s portrayal of Martin and the current mama’s boy we must bear. The real man would not use stupid girls as masturbatory aids. The real man would never rape. The real father would never shame his children as Billy the Goat has for all the years of his own child’s life. A real patriot would never sell out his country to the enemy. A real man would never murder another, burn innocent women and children, bomb countless others to save his own pathetic neck from the dock. The cruelty of the British troops mirrors perfectly the actions of Bill and Hillary, co-dictators. Sure as shit looks like they are the enemy to me, no?

A real man would always put the needs of his family, his country, before his own. If it weren’t for real men, the Clintons would not enjoy EVERYTHING they have now. And neither would any of the rest of us. I know to whom I am indebted for the life I enjoy. I know to whom I owe my freedom and to them I apologize for the debasement of the office they died to create, risk their lives now to preserve. To all the Patriots, living and dead, who sacrificed their fortunes, lives and sacred honor, I humbly beg forgiveness for the foolishness of some of my countrymen and women. We all watched as two elections were stolen right out from under us and yet the eunuch Congress “…stood idly by.”

I am ashamed and embarrassed by what I see that disgusting pair of corrupt commies are doing to my military. I am nauseated by what those two criminals have done to my once genteel and civil world. I am enraged by the treason they commit with every breath taken and I dream the grand dream of Clintonista effigies lighting up the night sky all across this country. I dream of Old Glory flying from every porch, every community building, every business and every school, upside down–flying distress to all who can still see and understand.

I pray for the day when The Patriot is shown to every young American in every home school across this great Nation, from sea to shining sea. I ask God every blessed night to give us the strength, intrepidity and resolve to continue the struggle in the face of the gravest danger to America ever presented. The Clintons have decimated our forces and brought the Chinese communists, along with every other commie nation, into the 20th and now 21st centuries and all the missiles and computers are poised against us! Arming the enemy is treason, plain and simple. Hanging is just too damned good for these bastards who would destroy all that was so hard won and such a great price by real Americans. I doubt even a public execution by firing squad would erase this shame from American hearts for years to come.

The Clintons have worked tirelessly for two things: their own power and the destruction of our representative republic. The courts have been packed with those who find the United States Constitution, the Bill of Rights and the Declaration of Independence out of date and in need of abolishment. The citizenry has been turned against each other by racial and class anger manipulation. Divide and conquer. The ends justify the means. Fuck the proletariat. Welcome to the world of slavery–a slavery that extends to the very thoughts of one who is deemed ‘politically incorrect’–a commie term of long standing.

I dream of what a Congress would be like if the members were of the stripe of Benjamin Martin. I dream of what my country would enjoy, were men and women like Martin running the show from DC to each municipality. I dream of the smiles of children as they played with toy guns, dolls or just climbed trees to get a better look at their little world. The nightmare I face is of third graders putting condoms on bananas (gee, can you actually impart to these tots that pregnancy and bananas have any commonality?), of 11 year old boys being instructed on the proper fucking etiquette of fisting–and for those of you who don’t know, I will tell you now that fisting is when one man puts his entire arm into the rectum and up the colon of another man. Please tell me, somebody, how this is “a loving act”. It stands to reason, if I don’t see the affection here, how the hell is a prepubescent boy gonna see it? And all on my own hard earned money–taxes stolen from me, sure as shit my definition of fucking bastards, but then I am a simple woman and recognize bullshit when I see it. No matter how you step in it, it still stinks!

I say bring on the battle for every heart and every mind. Bring back America as a shining beacon of the good of man to every corner of the globe. Continue the trend of excellence, in person, in deed, in spirit and in manifestation. Give me back my Country you fucking morons and just go crawl away back into the black hole you heartless, soulless, pissants came from and stay there for eternity. Us real Americans have a world to make for a children and grandchildren, have a tradition and a sacred honor to uphold, have a duty to family and country, even if it means our own lives today.

I have the need to stick a bottle of Dom Perignon in the fridge for the day you bastards go down. And if God answers my prayers, go down publicly for the whole world to see as examples of how Americans patriots deal with traitors. You human waste think you will not see retribution? You rotten, stinking albatross around our necks think we will let you stand? You total oxygen stealers actually think your comeuppance ain’t on the way?

Well, here’s a news flash for you brain dead pieces of shit: Every dog has his day and I am waiting with a burning passion to raise a glass to your demise. I extend an open invitation to all fellow Americans, this is sure gonna be one hell of a celebration–and we thought all those fireworks and whatnot at the millennium’s eve were something. You ain’t seen nothing yet! God does bless America.

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