Jingo Bells

I make a sharp delineation in my mind between patriotism and nationalism.  The words "patriot" and "nationalist," at least in American usage in the 20th century, have been severely diluted and warped.  To me, and according to older dictionaries, a patriot is someone who defends and protects the land, culture and history of a place, while a nationalist is someone who defends the government of that place.

Frankly, I have little to no use for government of any kind.  The only things I have ever gotten from governments are things they told me I had to have, like identification papers, and that I had to pay for them and renew them on a regular basis, since my identity changes regularly.

I certainly have never received any benefit from government.  I have, on the other hand, paid a pretty penny to maintain government, but to what end I really don't know.

I've heard hundreds of times that I have to pay my fair share, but for what?  What share am I supposedly getting that I have to pay so dearly for?

Well, security and protection, I'm told.  Yet, my home and those of pretty much everyone I have ever known have never been attacked by foreign invaders, though I must say my home has often been attacked by domestic invaders - government goons worried about what I am doing in my home, for the most part.

When it comes to security, I am ready, willing and able to defend my home and family without help from any goons.  I am also under no illusion that there is such a thing as security.  Every lock can be broken and I would rather be responsible for losing my own stuff, thank you very much.  Depending on government for security is like keeping a rabid dog in my bed for defense.  It tends to bite the hand that feeds it.

As for protection, well I was a registered marksman and owner of a fine collection of firearms.  I still maintain a formidable collection of knives that I am pretty handy with.  I have also learned to make a wide range of booby-traps from household items, just for shits and grins.  My assumption is that if a bunch of goons ever come around wanting to protect me, they will probably draw fire and do more damage than if I was left to my own devices.

I was raised in the ancient tradition that any able-bodied male is a defender.  I never saw much use for the armed forces, since my country has not been attacked since 1864, and that attack was carried out by the very folks claiming to be my protection.  Sounds like a mafia protection racket to me.

Most of what I have ever seen from government was a bunch of lard-ass blowhards looking all serious about making laws that have little intended effect, but make nifty reasons to harass people, when the need arises.

These glorified mountebanks get a lot of my money to sit around in fancy buildings thinking up new things to me to do.  They wear splendorous titles and expect honors and deference, yet they are nothing more than common crooks in three-piece suits with nifty little flag pins on their lapels.

Under them are thousands of uniformed goons who run around enforcing laws they have never read and couldn't care less about, as long as the paycheck and benefits keep coming - out of my pocket, by the way.

I'm a patriot, I suppose.  I love the land and the people, the culture and the language.  I would defend those things to my death, so that my children could also enjoy them and further enrich them with their own contributions.

I am not a nationalist, though.  I have little use for government.  I want nothing from it but to be left alone.  It offers me nothing I need, and takes everything I have to support a privileged few at the expense of the many.  Under all the pomp and circumstance, government is nothing more than a bunch of hoods with bigger guns than me that they bought with my money.

What puts me in the frame of mind is watching the US elections.  All I keep thinking about is the brilliant humorist P. Jl O'Rourke's book title, "Don't Vote, It Just Encourages The Bastards."  And as comedy genius George Carlin said, "If you vote, you have no right to complain."

All In Da Family

The large wooden doors swing open to reveal a massive oak and leather desk with rich curtained French doors behind them. Behind the desk is one of those leather office chairs you only find in board rooms and CEO offices. Its back is to us.

We enter and stop at the head of the desk. The chair slowly creaks around to reveal none other than Marlon Brando in character as Don Corleone, godfather of a successful mob family. He speaks to us:

Ah, Michael! Ahm glad you come to visit me like I ask you. You want a drink? I got some nice wine from Vinny when he come back from da old country.

We take the wine and sit down across from the desk as the padrino leans back in his chair and talks wistfully:

You know, Michael, back in da old dais, we knowd who was da good guys and who was the bad guys. The Fam-lease played one side a da game, and the gummint played da udder side.

It was simple den. We ran da rackets and paid da gumshoes to leave us alone. Ya miss a payment, dey show up and knock some heads. Nowadays, ya can't tell who's on what side, anymore. Da only diff-rence is dey got badges and a little respect. It's all PR Michael.

If we was smart back den, we woulda bought up some newspapers. We never tot like dat, you see. We never tink you just manage what people tink and you can run wild.

Deez gummint boys got us licked. Day use da same tactics like we do, making people pay for protection and roughin' dem up if dey don't keep to rules we set out. I mean, dees TSA goons are more stupit dan Guido der when he's got a bottle of product, ya knows?

But here's da ting, Michael. Ah been lookin' into dis for a while now. Da key is da gumshoes made a deal wid doze Jew boys down in da City. We missed da Big Pik-cha here. Dey made a deal wid da JPMorgan and Goldman fam-lease, and now dey got da whole ting wrapped up, ya know wha I mean>?

Look at all doze Jew boys down der in Washington. Seems like every time I turn around, dey put anudder Morgan boy or Goldman boy in some office wid a lotta power, and dey are runnin' da show.

Da udder ting dey got on us, us good press. All da time, deez news boys are bowin' and scrapin' to da gummint and Jew boys. No maddah what dey do, ya can't find a bad story on 'em. All peaches 'n' cream, I tell ya.

We nod appreciatively. Il Padrino has a way of bringing complex concepts down to more managable terms.

"But Godfather, what can we do now," we ask. "They've got 50 years on us. It's going to be impossible to compete with that."

Don't worry, Michael. Dey got 50 years? We got a thousant! Ah got ya an appointment with Papa in Roma. Da Vatican Bank's gonna help us put ta-gedder a package dat will take back some of our territory, see? Id ain't gonna be easy, Michael. Deez bastuds got a good jump on da game already. But, we got a lot more punch dan dey do, capiche? When ya meet wid Papa, he's gonna lay out da plan. All weez gotta do is stick to it. I want you to run da show, here. We don't need da udder fam-lease tryin' to make a play for our bag.

Artie and Phillie, dey're too stupit to play dis big, an' da udder fam-lease don't got da stroke we do in Roma. If ya play it smart, Michael, you can built up an empire like nobuddy's ever seen.

Ahm gonna buy a newspaper chain while yer in Roma. We're gonna play by der rules, but we're gonna do it betta. Yer gonna be da padrino someday, so done screw dis up. You got da bisnis degree and ya know how da game is playt. Da best part, if ya get da badge, ya can wax 'em and no buddy ever gonna know, cause you got da authority and ya got da press to bury da bodies for ya.

You ponder the implications for a moment, then ask, "Padrino, why all of the sudden do you want to get into government? It's not our traditional market."

Simple, Michael. Youse just gotta read dat great Wop from Venucci, Macchiavelli. All gummint is violence. If somebuddy steps outta line, ya whack 'em. Ya make 'em pay protection. Ya can even make 'em pay for air and waddah. It's brilliant! On toppa dat, you're legitimate. Da people all come to you for protection, cuz dey been trained from bert to follow what-evah you say. Da best part, is you got all da guns! If somebuddy don't follow what you tell 'em, ya whack 'em. Hoos gonna tell ya 'no?'

Ya, doze Jew boys from across town, dey figgerd it out bafore we did, but dat don't mean we can't learn from 'em. We been playin' dis game all wrong. Ya see, gummint and da fam-lease is all da same. Only ting is, day got schools and da press.

When ya meet with Papa, he's gonna spell it all out. Come da next election, weez gonna change the rules a liddle. It's all perception, Michael.

If you're a mafia on the da outside, everybuddy's out ta get ya. But, if are the mafia on da INSIDE, den ya got no competition. It's all how ya look at it.

"It's brilliant, padrino. But, how do we make sure we get our people inside?"

The Godfather chuckles.

We steal der game, Michael. Dey got everybuddy using doze electronic votin' machines. Whoever runs da machines, runs da world. I already got our boys inside on dat end. You know Paulie's boy, Anthony? He got a degree in computers and went to work for one of dem big software companies that has a contract wid da gummint to make da machines. Don't worry. We got dat part in da bag already.

We sit back in our chair and sip the wine pensively. It seemed like a fool-proof plan. With the backing of Rome, it was no fail. We picture ourselves in the Oval Office with a cigar and an intern, only much better looking than 'that woman.'

Yup, the Don had outdone himself. The Jewish bankers were already losing the PR game and the market was ripe for a take-over. The pockets in Rome were the deepest in the world. And with control of the schools and the media, no one would have the brain to put up a fight, much less win it.

As we sit there dreaming, suddenly Mel Brooks pops into our thoughts. He delivers the great line from "Robin Hood: Men In Tights"- It's good ta be da king!

How true...how true.