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We are all F-15s now.
Those are President Biden’s terms, not mine. Because he said that’s what we would need to overthrow the federal government if it came right down to it. Although that leaves me very confused about where AOC’s post-traumatic stress disorder and therapy sessions were born out of, since I didn’t see the Viking hat guy flying any F-15s during the supposed “insurrection” that happened on Jan. 6.
But back to my new identity. And yes, it is my identity and you must respect it just like in those new credit card commercials that don’t require you to use your real name, if you feel pretty and special with a totally made-up name. I mean, nothing makes or breaks how a gas station burrito is going to taste like whether or not my every emotion is validated by the minimum wage-making tyrant who probably just doesn’t know he’s a Klan member yet. Obviously.
So hear me plainly, people of CHAZ and its many splendored offshoots from sea to shining sea: I am an F-15, and my pronouns are ‘hell no’ and ‘over my dead body.’
If the federal government’s Faucian Bargain is to make vaccines mandatory for young people who not only don’t need them, but face significant health risks because of them, then I am an F-15.
If the federal government’s CRT bizarro “I have a dream” speech redux has become the content of your character is the color of your skin, then I am an F-15.
If the federal government’s military readiness guidelines now feature drag queen story hour as a blessing of liberty, then I am an F-15.
If the federal government’s propaganda arm, aka journalism, lies this easily with zero consequences, then I am an F-15.
For I am whatever I need to be to stop the heinous Spirit of the Age cult that is brazenly succeeding at killing America. And oh, by the way, that’s not just me talking. To be an F-15 in the face of open hostility to the good, the true, and the beautiful of America’s founding principles is required by law for those whose oaths have now in so many cases become forfeit:
I do solemnly swear (or affirm) that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; that I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion; and that I will well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office on which I am about to enter. So help me God.
The chairman of the joint chiefs, Gen. Miley, once took that oath. He’s since made it plain he’s taken the blood oath to woke instead.
To anybody who is honest, our federal government’s current caretakers — both Democrats and Republicans — have replaced that oath with “Hail Hydra.” So we are at a time of choosing. F-15 or roadkill?
None of it is inevitable. It is and always has been a choice. We, as free men governed by the dictates of “We the people,” have always been granted the power of an F-15 in your daily business with our government and addressing the wickedness of our fellow man. But we watched and often even clapped and cheered as reality was altered, morphed, and destroyed beyond all recognition just as long as our idols stayed safe.
So here we are. In the very same place 19th century British Gen. Charles James Napier found himself in dealing with the heathen and barbaric Sati, who had a savage religious funeral practice of burning widows alive on their husband’s funeral pyre in the sub-continent of India. Here was his response, and may we go and do likewise:
Be it so. This burning of widows is your custom; prepare the funeral pile. But my nation has also a custom. When men burn women alive we hang them, and confiscate all their property. My carpenters shall therefore erect gibbets on which to hang all concerned when the widow is consumed. Let us all act according to our national customs.
Napier clearly didn’t have F-15s back in the day, but he was one. An unambiguous force to be reckoned with when evil came to town.
Who will we be?