The Wussification of America: Part Deux

by Spike Spencer

“The truth does not require your belief in it to be so.” -Spike Spencer

So I received quite a bit of comment action from my last post, “The Wussification of America.” Most of it was positive and expressed similar views. Several on the conservative side actually missed a few of the points, but overall they got it. Of course, as expected, I received a few smuggalicious lefty responses decrying my opinion as barbaric and also as expected, questioning my manhood. As though bending over to the whims of actual barbarians is a manly way to live your life. Count me out, Sally.

Ya see, I live in a world where men take a stand. I come from a state that believes in the values of this great nation. I come from a state that believes that freedom is worth fighting for. I come from Texas, the sidearm of the nation. Undoubtedly the all knowing eyes of the left are rolling back in their head in their, “oh so better than thou” way at the knowledge that I, a redneck hick from a backwater Klan-infested swamphole could dare utter pride at such a thing. Well, to borrow a phrase from our brilliant enlightened leader, “Yes, yes I can.”

You see, I was brought up in a place where when something needed to get done, it got done. When your neighbor needed you, you were there to help. It’s just the right thing to do. We looked out for each other. And regardless of what the hootie tooties on the left want to think of everyone not living in a thriving Metropolistical stew of “progressive” thought; we did so regardless of race, ethnicity, religion, skin color or sexual preference. So there. Anyone remember Katrina? What city opened its arms to those hit hardest? Yep, my hometown of Houston. Which by the way is the 4th largest city in the country. Just an FYI.

Now, back to my point. When you take a stand, you can’t do so on a rolling platform. You have to know what you stand for and you must be willing to fight for it. And when someone comes to knock you down, you face them and hold your ground. When you know who you are and what you stand for, you are strong, firm, solid. And yes, that makes a man. Inside and out.

Now I want to say to some of the left that responded sans smuggery. I see and understand your points. Really I do. And here is where we see the true difference. I do not agree with you. Period. I do not think less of you as a person per se. I just know where I stand. I don’t feel threatened by your stand and lash out personally as so many on the left do when someone dares to disagree with them. I don’t feel that I’m superior to you because of my stance and opinions. I do feel that I am right. And I won’t go all wobbly in the knees and buckle like a liberal in the face of those who want to kill me simply to satisfy a false sense of self satisfaction at my attempt to understand the feeeelings of the guy sawing my head off. Your feeeelings are your feeeelings and that is alright. However; your feeeelings will get me and my family killed.

I had this very conversation with a liberal friend of mine. He was adamant about the “torture” issue. He said we were better than that and that it shouldn’t be allowed and that it made us as bad as the terrorists, blah, blah, blah. And then, in the midst of his argument, he uttered one sentence which summed up the feelings of every liberal I have ever met. I’m paraphrasing here, but he said something to the effect that “Well, maybe if I knew my family was in immediate danger…” or something similar in tone. BINGO! BANGO! BONGO! Can anyone say caveat!?! There it is folks. When it comes down to them, the rules are different. Tax cheats? Horrible. Unless you’re on the left. Ruthless Dictators? Horrible. Unless you’re on the left. Terrorists? Horrible. Unless you’re on the left.

Ya see, the thing that my friend and all you on the left who responded to my article seem to miss here is that the info we got from pouring some water down the gullets of 3 (that’s right fellas, only 3) worthless piles of human debris saved our fair city of Los Angeles from a terrorist attack that could have possibly killed your whiny flower-pickin asses! Oh, and how about if not your lives, what about everyone else’s? Do those not in your enlightened sphere of influence matter? When someone wants to kill you and has stated so, made arrangements to do so and is heading your way with a little “COEXIST” sticker on the bumper of their “chock full o explosives” laden love mobile; you don’t help them gas up their car, clean the windshield, and air up their tires. Ya, shoot em! Aaaaaaaaaaand, scene.

Is that so hard to fathom? Really? Bad guys do bad things. And I’m sorry, it may not be Biblical in the liberal sense, but when someone hits me on the cheek, the only way I’m turning the other cheek is in the midst of a solid roundhouse kick to their frickin head. I’m done with this silly feminized version of what a man is supposed to be. Will I open doors for women? You betcha. Will I share my feeeelings with a woman. Absolutely, at an appropriate time. Will I even write poetry, pick flowers, and have picnics with a woman. Yes, yes, and yes I certainly will. But what’s even more important than all that lovey dovey mushy romantic stuff?

I will stand firm in my convictions. I will stand firm in my support of those who fight for me. I will protect the lives and homes and freedom of those I love and their families and friends. I will fight the miserable evil that would make a slave of my woman. Stone her for driving a car, treat her like property, and kill her for being a victim of another piece of crap thug. That, my liberal friends, is the kind of man I am. I don’t want to hug a terrorist today. I want to hug a lovely, gorgeous, outgoing, outspoken, woman that can feel free to drive, read, vote, sing, dance, and choose the type of man she will spend her time with. And I’m pretty much willing to bet, that when the chips are down, she won’t go running to you for safety, there sweetpants. She’ll be looking for the manly guy ready to fight for her when the time comes…

And P.S.
It’s time!

Oh, and P.S.S.
Namaste