Wikipedia defines the term political correctness as: the avoidance, often considered as taken to extremes, of forms of expression or action that are perceived to exclude, marginalize, or insult groups of people who are socially disadvantaged or discriminated against.
Well, its morphed into far more. Hatched in its current form circa 1990 by that ultra-liberal beacon called The New York Times, political correctness has transformed into a giant muzzle over the mouths and lives of far too many Americans. Unleashing a virtual Pandora’s Box of issues, and abetted at the time by an immoral Clinton presidency, a mentality of “anything goes” regarding the social fabric of the country settled in to the national psyche. Amplified by a complicit media, the majority risked scorn and ridicule, and were extorted into silence as they watched in dismay while the country seemly went berserk. Laws were enforced on those that would speak out over actions that previously seemed dishonorable, amoral, or just plain weird. Words are now taboo. Think about that, in modern America, people have been fined and lost careers over the use of the wrong word at the wrong time. Just the threat of being called the word "racist" has become feared and is used to shut down any further dialogue.
Gone is God and Civics from our schools, resulting in a lack of spirituality, empathy for structure, and patriotism for our country, as is currently being exhibited across the nation in sporting events. We have become so shallow that we are actually hyper-concerned about what performers, no different than a clown in a circus, says or does. In the name of political correctness, nobody asks why it is believed to be tolerable for a coach to instruct eight-year-old junior football players in southern Illinois to take a “protesting knee” before a game, thus encouraging yet another generation of resentment.
This PC society seems to be devoid of individualism. History is being re-written as if what was right is now wrong with the founding and expansion of this great country. As one consequence, beautiful one-hundred-year-old statues commemorating antiquity are being destroyed or seized in the middle of the night; relegated to the back rooms of museums, so as not to offend anyone, irrespective of the fact the very removal offends others! Lenin's cronies removed and then burnt books when they took over Russia in 1917 - how did that work out for everybody? Our forefathers are being looked down upon by some as murderers and exploiters of what is now considered no more than simple, peace-loving peoples. The word "backward" has been removed from that description though. There is irony that the PC crowd is oblivious to the fact that their decedents also rode the current of American supremacy. If you don't believe that, explain the election of Barrack Obama. Yet, somehow, European discoverers ruined this utopia that evidently previously existed in North America. "Hail Atlantis!"
The adage that “those who do not remember history are doomed to repeat it,” has become...forgotten. Social miscreants such as Castro and Chavez, or Socialist farces such as the European Union, are now to be admired and displayed proudly on T-shirts by elitist Hollywood types that are fawned over by our offspring and trumpeted by the media. Cultures that would like nothing more than to wipe us off the earth are encouraged to join us for that one last big kumbaya moment.
Our universities, once the bastion of free speech and intellectual thought, are now controlled by mostly overpaid tenured Marxist do-nothings. Colleges have become nothing more than expensive nurseries for empty humanoids, frightened by any thoughts or words that might offend their sensitive safe-spaces. Instead of standing out and striving to reach the front of the pack, many children fall into lock-step, staring blankly at cell phones, confused by which bathroom they should be using.
As moral and civic boundaries are stretched, politicians jump shamelessly on the bandwagon with little regard to doing what is right, constantly in chase of the almighty vote in order to preserve their lustful grab of power and cash. They feed the machine-heads daily platitudes, emboldening the lazy, the unscrupulous, the perpetual victims, the fatherless masses, as well as those lost souls no longer interested in attaining the American dream by virtue, preferring to have it handed to them from the labor of others. Lost in the collective national conscience is the fact that the government can’t give them anything they didn’t take from someone else.
Perhaps this may explain the election of Donald Trump.
Well, the Emmy’s have come and gone and I missed them…again. I watched football instead, which I will have more to say about later. In all honesty, I am not much into the award shows in which a bunch of elite snobs of entertainment and music get together and slobber all over each other while trading trophy’s. I haven’t heard from any of them yet, so I doubt they miss my viewership.
From what I have read and watched on the news, evidently this year’s version of the Emmy’s was a real doozy. Congratulations are in order to Stephen Colbert who hosted the lowest rated Emmy telecast ever with a laughable 8.2 rating. All the Hollywood in-crowd, and bimbos dressed up in their fancy rented gowns, got together for three hours of merry Trump bashing – boy, that must have been a real hoot. Guess Trump bashing isn’t as popular once one leaves the stage of the Late-Night crowd. (Me, I watch reruns of Seinfeld) And, in an effort to stick the knife a little deeper into those with a sense of national pride, the Emmy producers arranged to have noted American traitor Jane Fonda to appear on stage as well!
Predictably, they handed Alec Baldwin an award for his absurd impression of President Trump on Saturday Night Live, another show I don’t watch. Since Hollywood in general leans decidedly towards Marxism for anyone outside their cult, why wouldn’t they hand over a prize to the jackass that wears a wig and annoyingly does nasal noises to supposedly impersonate a sitting president they happen to loathe? Sort of like the clown you hire for a children’s party – he may be an alcoholic loser in life, but the urchins think he’s a God. This is the same temperamental intellectual midget who called his 11 y/o daughter a “rude, thoughtless little pig,” assaulted a photographer, and became belligerent with a flight attendant who asked him to stop playing “Words with Friends” so the plane could leave. Yeah, let’s hand him an award and then get together to wonder why ratings are tanking.
All the other awards went to people I never heard of in shows that I didn’t know existed. My understanding these shows pretty much deal with “tolerance and acceptance” which are code words for the Left to show how they are so much more superior and compassionate than Conservatives. Funny how their pocketbooks don’t follow their beliefs. (To be fair, my understanding is that Mr. Baldwin has given millions to charity, but according to Forbes, that is not the norm for liberals.)
While all this childish taunting was going on I was watching my beloved Packers go down in flames to those goons from Atlanta in the NFL Sunday night broadcast. The NFL is another beleaguered institution in terms of ratings and for some very good reasons. I have to admit, I even felt a few pangs of guilt for watching an NFL broadcast.
Given my staunchly Conservative bent, one would think I would have quit the Pack for being associated with a league that allows its employees to protest by sitting out our National Anthem. To allow this side show circus act into America’s sport, to spit in the face of our country and everything it stands for, is beyond a national embarrassment. It is a crime by the NFL head offices and every NFL owner that allows to happen. They sure as hell wouldn’t allow those players to disrupt their corporate board meetings or the NFL Owners Annual Revelry Meeting. Yet, they allow it to happen, on our time, by their employees, in stadiums (many paid for by tax-payers), or on our televisions. If it wasn’t the Packers, I wouldn’t have been watching. Unfortunately, I don't follow college football and am hopelessly addicted to the lads in green and gold. I just can’t quite bring myself to quit...yet. I admit for now, I’m weak.
Speaking of tanking, how about those gutless clowns over at ESPN. Curt Schilling is terminated after he made Conservative remarks about bathroom usage, but it’s perfectly acceptable for Jemelle Hill to call a sitting president a white supremacist and a bigot...and to keep her job. I’m all about the 1st Amendment folks, but jeez, don't you think it should work both ways?
ESPN is also the nitwit network that removed a part-time broadcaster of Asian heritage by the name of Robert Lee from the UVA game in Charlottesville after the recent Robert E. Lee statue farce out of fear…hell, who knows what prompted such a stupid decision! You cannot sanely justify it.
The bias at ESPN falls squarely into the lap of John D. Skipper, the President of ESPN and co-chairman of the owner of ESPN, the Disney Company. Yes, the Walt Disney Company – the place where the average American, dreaming of taking their offspring to Walt Disney’s magical park, has to take out a bank loan in order to go stand in long, hot lines for entertainment. Skipper is allowing this prejudice to exist, giving us perhaps insight into his own ideology…or lack of backbone.
Note to Hollywood, the NFL, ESPN, and Disney – we don’t need you! Keep kicking us. The NFL stadiums and America’s theaters are starting to see empty seats. Perhaps you need to understand that you need access to our pocketbooks, or there is no YOU!
The account below will be appearing in an upcoming edition of the Kankakee Daily Journal, along with future columns. Hope you enjoy!
Howdy, folks! In a classic situation of being careful of what you wish for, here I am with my first column in a syndicated newspaper. My wife is proud, but my dear departed father is rolling over in his grave.
Well, you’ve seen my name and picture in the byline. I have been compared physically to Santa Claus, Ernest Hemingway, and my personal favorite, Jerry Garcia. I assure you folks, I can neither entertain munchkins, write classic books, or play guitar like any of those gents. (Although I did publish a novel in 2010 called Whipping Post that a few people, such as my wife and mother, really enjoyed.)
I come to you with a conservative perspective on today’s issues, something I felt Mr. Jackson and Mr. Marek used to do before they caught TDS (Trump Derangement Syndrome). You might also get a dose of my personal interests from time to time. If you like my viewpoint, be sure to check out my blog at www.webberswhippingpost.com. If you don’t, please send your remarks to Mr. Frey.
What has all that to do with Hillary Clinton? Nothing. Getting this column off on the right foot though, is there any more unpleasant person than Hillary Clinton? As a civil servant, which includes First Lady, Senator, Secretary of State, and losing presidential nominee, I am unaware of anything she has actually accomplished, other than filling her bank account with money from other people. I have found her behavior reprehensible for about 25 years, ever since she and Bill broke onto the national scene accompanied by the Fleetwood Mac song, “Don’t Stop.” They ruined the song for me as I sooooo wish now she would just “Stop!” (That’s a Lonnie Mack song). The irony of the message of the song, “Don’t Stop,” being a break-up of two of its band members must have been lost on the Clintons.
The reasons to dislike Hillary and her seemingly immoral, if not illegal, Clinton Foundation are abundant, and Mr. Frey won’t allow me that much space. Suffice to say, it’s my view that her list of achievements is much shorter than the litany of her misdeeds. If you know of a legitimate, well thought out, real accomplishment, achieved entirely by Hillary herself, please email it to Mr. Jackson so he can put it on Face Book. Perhaps, at best, I may learn something, or, at worst, get some great chuckles.
So, rather than delve into the past, which will only pull her supporters to one side and folks like me that can’t stand to listen to her on the other, let’s just skip forward to the present day. She has a new book out that she is promoting heavily. The book is called “What Happened.” Below the title is simply her name, Hillary Rodham Clinton. I saw a cute meme that mentioned it might be the first book with the question and the answer to the book all contained on the cover of the book.
In the book, which she is hyping at signing events that is actually selling tickets for $32, she explains, in her view, why she lost the 2016 Presidential election. (For the record, I have attended and held a few book signings and this was the first I ever heard of that one had to buy a ticket just to get in the store. A worthier American, the late Colonel Kassler held a book signing at Barnes and Noble. I assure you entry was free, and the Colonel was humbled.) In Hillary’s book, which I admittedly have no intention of buying to contribute to her insatiable greed – released excerpts indicate Hillary blames just about everybody, including herself if you can bring yourself to believe her. There are reports that it was also because of Russia, emails, Obama, Biden, Trump, Benghazi, Bernie Sanders, Wisconsinites, white men, married women, Trump once again, media bias, Bill’s bimbo’s, Wall Street, the DNC, Wikileaks, and of course, James Comey. OK, I’ll admit, she just might have a point on Comey – seems nobody can figure that one out.
The point is folks, this is all just classic Hillary, the poor victim, who never seems to get her anointed spot at the top of the heap, and by golly, it’s her turn. After all, she has put up with Bill all these years, and she and some of her supporters believe she deserves it.
She will be 70 years old next month, maybe it’s time to rest on her “laurels.”
There just isn’t enough money or power in this world for poor Hillary.
Rebuttal to Dennis Marek column in Kankakee Daily Journal on 9/9/17. Original column can be seen by cutting and pasting link below.
I’m certain my buddy Denny Marek knew he would be hearing from me as soon as he hit the send button on his keyboard with the weekend opinion column. I would be delighted to point out to Mr. Marek why we, Trump supporters, still like our President.
You see, Denny, in the area surrounding Washington DC there exists reptilian creatures living in a murky, dangerous…almost “Swamp-like” ether. The beings inhabiting this area, which comprises ten of the top twenty wealthiest counties in the US, have become incredibly prosperous, insatiably gorging from troughs of money and power that the rest of the country provides. Over the course of the past 25 years or so those in the “Swamp” have created this “good-ol’ boys (and gals) network that the middle-class is only allowed to provide sustenance, without participation.
Please understand that the genesis of this situation is not that politicians outworked us or were any smarter than the rest of us. No, those folks, the people we trusted and elected to do a job for us, by all appearances banded together to conspire against us and changed laws to which they excluded themselves in order to live lavishly off our labors. And we, the great unwashed, are supposed to stand by passively so as not to be called out as racist, homophobic, misogynistic, dull-witted, uncivilized, or just plain ignorant by an all too complicit media.
So, We the People, banded together this past November and elected ourselves a man who seemed to understand, like us, that the system has been broken for the past quarter of a century and was in need of a shake-up. Perhaps it was time for the Swamp to be drained. And Donald J. Trump seemed just like the man who could do it.
Now, if a foul-smelling Swamp is rotting and in need of drainage, one wouldn’t call a fine attorney such as yourself, nor would we call a sophisticated banker, a hard-working truck driver, or even an over-worked housewife. We certainly couldn’t call someone from the Hollywood elite, a pro athlete, or any of the collegiate crowd in order to get a dirty job done. No, we needed somebody that couldn’t be bought, would roll up his or her sleeves, and get down in the muck and sludge to help pull on the plug at the bottom of the Swamp.
Who would be better than a brash billionaire from New York? He didn’t need our money or more power – he was one of the most famous men in the world. He outwitted sixteen Republican opponents in the primary and one pre-ordained establishment woman in the election to snatch the highest-ranking seat in the world. And at 70 years of age and more money than he could spend, what other reason would he have to go through what it took to win a primary and an election unless he thought, like the rest of us, our country might be headed in the wrong direction - particularly after eight years of Socialist-like policies from Obama, eight years of bumbling politics and gamesmanship from Bush, and the eight-year saturnalia that was Clinton?
Now that I have put our presidential selection in proper context, Denny, please allow me to answer you, paragraph by paragraph, so that you have a better understanding inside the mind of a “Trumpster:”
Financials - So what he didn’t provide his financials. We all know he is wealthy. You want to show us yours? Did Obama show us his transcripts? The mention about Russia was low, Denny. Even the media has figured out that dog won’t hunt, particularly now that it looks like the Clintons were more involved than Trump.
Twitter – I’ll give you that – it appears unseemly. But at least his message is not filtered through agenda based media outlets such as the Washington Post or New York Times. Your remark about his limited vocabulary was also a low-blow – most people cannot enunciate like a politician. His lack of sounding like a politician is what got him the job. Voting for velvet-tongued politicians hasn’t worked out so well for us lately.
Blaming Obama – Are you kidding me? Obama spent eight years blaming Bush.
Golf - Obama golfed 333 times during his presidency, including immediately after the beheading of James Foley and during Justice Scalia’s funeral. Trump has been in office only eight months and to our knowledge, no complaints have been lodged that he was vacationing during national issues.
Secret Service Overtime for Trump – Yes sir, the Secret Service has about used up its budget protecting Trump and his family. The last time that happened – 2016 – the last year of Obama’s presidency. It’s been a regularly occurring problem for the last decade.
Accomplishments - despite the Democratic-Republican Swamp Coalition against anything Trump, he has in fact accomplished many achievements, although not nearly as many as he wanted, due to the aforementioned Coalition. To name a few:
Dictator – Unlike Germany, we have three branches of government – it was the genius of the Founding Fathers. The dictator remark was yet another low blow. I seriously doubt President Trump hates our court system, other than those like the 9th Circuit, which have their opinions overturned 80% of the time. (Why do we need a Circuit that is wrong 4 out of every 5 times?) Trump probably feels, like I do, that if liberal judges, upon simply an Obama nod, can override his actions without the benefit of being elected by the people, they need to be replaced.
Sheriff Arpaio Pardon – This was really a stretch, my dear friend. The sheriff has been the only person Trump pardoned – for the “crime” of contempt of court, found by Judge Susan Bolton, a Clinton appointee. Obama pardoned 212 people and commuted the sentence of another 1,715 people, including traitor Chelsea Manning and terrorist Oscar Rivera.
Republican Opposition – He already has that. And it upsets us Trump voters greatly. More to come in upcoming elections.
White Males - You got me there, Denny. I’m guilty of being a white male so I’ll just have to concede this point to you, Councillor. Usually, once this card has been played, it’s time to shut up.
So, yes, us "Trumpsters" still like our President, warts and all, and for good reason. He is strong, assertive, and willing to do what most in Washington won’t - stand up for the rights of American's. He may not always be smooth or say the politically correct thing, but, if you don’t want to support him, I suggest you get out of his way and let him resurrect this country from the doldrums we find ourselves wallowing in.
Over the Labor Day week end I played golf in the annual Calcutta at the Kankakee Country Club. The event is called the “Rollison” after a man named Clive Rollison, who was a long-time member, albeit before my time. It is the "BIG" kahuna at our club. This was my 26th appearance in this hallowed affair which has been going on for 55 years. Twenty-six appearances pales in comparison to the 54 that my buddy, Dick Ackman, played in. Sadly, he was unable to play this year, which diminished some of the luster.
For those of you unfamiliar with a Calcutta event, a club randomly divides its competing members into four groups, depending on ability, which is measured by a handicap system. The “A” players are the captains of the team and make up the better golfers. I was not among this group. That is followed by the “B” players, which comprises a group of pretty good golfers, some of which are past captains. I wasn’t among that group either. What follows is the “C” players, generally a group of golfers who think they are better than they really are. That would be my group. And then there are the “D” players, usually a collection of new-comers to golf, the casual or the elderly, or a place for the proverbial sand-baggers to hide.
Once teams are drawn out pops the “Poop Sheet” (sorry for the visual) written by a couple of wise guys ranking the teams and poking fun of those poor souls who actually think they have a good team. (Note to the wise guys, had you read my blog you would have known a polemicist is someone who indulges in contentious rhetoric that is intended to support a specific position. And since you predicted it, I am now writing about the experience!) After that, the teams are auctioned off at a scrumptious dinner. Then the real fun begins…golf!
The week before a Rollison you will see people coming out of the woodwork to hone their golf skills. Some are even successful. Bright yellow practice balls are everywhere on the course…mostly in positions they had never been in before. New members, terrified of a poor performance, sweat bullets while beating practice balls more in one week than they had in the prior fifteen.
I have to say that in the previous twenty-six tournaments, I too had fallen into the usual trappings of preparing for a Rollison. I practiced incessantly…that week, expecting to become the next Arnold Palmer. I bought new golf balls and attire. I envisioned getting that special trophy and my mug up on the wall at the entrance to the Club. That is sanctified wall space, ladies and gents.
Then in 2010 I got lucky and won one. I was on a team with Captain Niles Crum, Bruce Dickstein and Dave Van Dehey, a great group of guys. We were ranked near the bottom, thanks to the wise guys running the poop sheet. I came out of the gate hot the first day, having practiced madly all week, and for the first nine holes kept Team Crum in the running. We made the turn at hole number ten and evidently, my golf game didn’t come with us, as I never made another point again that weekend, including the one-hole playoff. The guys hit the ball and drug Alan well enough that our picture now hangs proudly in the hall. My poor performance might explain the placement of the picture though – you have to look for it.
I have to say that having won a Rollison, I somehow might have lost some of the edge, if ever I had an edge. Over the course of the next seven years I missed two Rollison’s for back issues, and was never as anxious again when I did play. Don’t get me wrong, I tried my best, but somehow, it just didn’t seem the same as it did before. The nerves just weren’t there. Or so I thought.
This year, I was matched up with current club champ, Matt Dwyer (A Man Called Horse), Dr. Joe “Smoothie” Wertz, and my boyfriend-in-law, Jerome Warner. Yes, that is my daughter’s boyfriend – what are the odds? We were auctioned off in the middle of the pack as the Poop Sheet wise guys virtually giggled at us. There was some logic to this as a team captain had never won the Rollison two years in a row, and Matt had won the year before. First-time players also don’t win a lot of Rollison’s, a fact that didn’t seem to bother Mr. Warner. The good doctor and I sat in our cart and pondered those facts often throughout the weekend.
I should say that I regularly play golf with the same group of guys. One of them was having performance anxiety and worried he might perform poorly at the Rollison. He talked nonstop about what could go wrong, including dribbling a ball off the first tee on the first day. That is every Rollison players worst nightmare, as there is usually a crowd watching the golfers go off and sometimes can set the tone for the team. Me personally, in the previous twenty-five events, had never done that so I had no reason to think otherwise. So, Saturday morning I teed up my Titleist 2 with the Cubs Logo, took a couple of practice swings, swung mightily and promptly hit the ball about twenty feet. Yep, I had pulled off the most terrifying event of the Rollison - dribbling a ball off the first tee box, not even reaching the ladies tee. Thanks for putting that image in my noggin' buddy.
We didn’t score a point on the first hole – normally a sure sign that it is about to become a long expensive weekend with people you would just as soon get away from. But, a team led by Matt Dwyer was not to be counted out. After the first hole debacle, the captain just smiled and proceeded to catch fire. When playing golf in a two-best-ball format with Captain Dwyer, you are never out of contention for scoring. He is always going to “hold” the score at the very least, and there is a good chance he will birdie at best. That meant one of us three remaining knuckleheads could take turns scoring some points too. Joe and I pretty much shot our games all weekend, which allowed us to ying and yang for points. Joe kept reminding me to shoot like I would during any “normal” golf game, a trick that actually worked on this old codger. And then came Jerome, much like Danny Noonan in Caddyshack, he shot the best golf of his life. As the “C” player, I shot my handicap both days – a somewhat remarkable achievement given the pressure of the tournament. Jerome, the “D” player, beat me – both days! Methinks Jerome should apply to be adopted by Matt.
As most of you probably know or have realized by now, our team won this year’s Rollison. Against some stiff competition and great guys, we were in first place by two strokes after the first day and cruised to victory the second. Our “D” player just happened to close it out by promptly parring the dreaded 17th hole and then the 18th for good measure…in front of a gallery of about a hundred people. Me, after starting the tournament by dribbling off the front tee in front of a bunch of people, managed to end the event by chilly-dipping my second shot on 18, in the sand trap, again in front of a bunch of people. Obviously, hamming it up is not my forte. Fortunately, by that time all we had to do on the 18th hole was not give up six strokes to take home the trophy.
The elation of winning a Rollison in front of your peers at our club, particularly when you are the last group in and the outcome in pretty-much known, is almost overwhelming. My mother swears I had divine intervention with my late father, who played in about 30 Rollison events himself. She might be right. At one point on the 17th hole, Jerome and I were all that was left to hold or score. I was standing in front of the first creek, having laid up, facing my nemesis, that damn island between the Kankakee River and the north pond. It hates me, I swear. I have to pay it a toll of one ball on every round. As I addressed the ball I said to myself, “Come on dad, help me with this shot.” I launched a beautiful 5-wood about 220 yards, straight down the middle, coming to a stop just in front of the west pond. I couldn’t do that again if I hit a bucket of balls. I bogeyed the hole and held, while Jerome naturally parred it as every "D" player does, giving us two points for the hole.
Afterwards, I sat at the bar by myself…imbibing a little. I couldn’t believe how physically and mentally exhausted I was. Was I that out of shape, I pondered, knowing full well the answer. Having just won a Rollison event, I had not the energy to get up and go home to prepare for the dinner and accolades. When I got home, I seriously considered staying home I was so tired, but alas, the wife wouldn’t allow it. At the dinner that night I was amazed at how many guys agreed – it is so emotionally and physically taxing when every shot counts. I can’t imagine what the pro’s go through.
Finally, I would be remiss if I didn’t mention our “fifth player,” Tena Marquie. Score keeping her first, and last, Rollison, she was a glue that held us together. She had no idea what she had gotten herself into but went about it with a positive, fun attitude and steered our collective spirit. She wasn’t about to let anyone get down. She was truly a winning part of Team Dwyer, and there is not a man on the team that would disagree. Thank you, Tena.