Here’s a little fantasy I had while walking the dogs yesterday. LOCATION: Any democrat run city in the U.S. of A. TIME: Now!

Sheriff! Just got a report from the south side. There’s a group of men dressed in camo. They’re harassin’ the folks down there and they appear to be heavily armed.

Oh shit! Those damn militia dudes comin’ back to make trouble!
Don’t know, sir. Could be. They don’t have insignia or anything to indicate they’re law enforcement.

Alright guys. Let’s go down there and check out these bad-ass Nazi wannabes. Better grab your riot suits and big guns, just in case.
Stop the car. Aw hell! Look at that. These bastards just stuffed a boy into a POV.

Sirens. Loud Speaker: Pull to the side of the road! Now!

Ok boys! Everyone better lock and load. These guys look like they mean business.

Deputy: Everyone step out of the car – slowly. Keep your hands where we can see them.

Evening. You boys out for a joy ride? Oh? You’re law enforcement officers, huh? Really? Well you’re gonna have to prove that! You better damn well show some official ID! And I wanna see open-carry licenses for those bazookas your boys got there.

Yup, says here you’re with the Customs and Border Agency. You lookin’ to claim customs duties from this kid? You aware of the fact that we’re a hundred plus miles from the nearest border? You’ve got no business being here. I’d say you’re a long way out of your jurisdiction. You’re in my jurisdiction now!

I’ll take that. Hand it over. That’s all you got? Deputy, run a check on this ID. Take your time. We got all night.

OK, not just you, boss man. Now for the rest of your goons. Each and every one of your cowboys better produce legitimate documentation now. And you may as well shed some of that Robocop crap and make yourselves comfortable. We’re gonna wait for verification on each and every one. One at a time.

I don’t give a damn who you say you work for. I ain’t gonna have no rogue vigilantes terrorizing my citizens. I wanna know exactly who you are, who you’re workin’ for and what authorization you have to bust into my county and harass my citizens.

I need you to turn around and remove yourselves from the city limits. You don’t wanna do that, you can surrender your weapons. We’d be happy to escort you downtown to enjoy the amenities of our municipal detention facility.

‘scuse me? You thugs are gonna do what? Arrest me? Fogeddaboudit! You keep up with this smart-ass shit and I’m gonna have my boys throw you low-lifes into those paddy wagons over there and haul off to the city dump.

Or maybe, we’ll just strip you down and have you all try the walk of shame.

Come to think of it, we could even drive the whole lot of you scumbags all the way to your jurisdiction and dump your sorry naked asses along the banks of the ol’ Rio Grande. Am I makin’ you homesick?

Relics of The German Heritage

Imagine this….

You are vacationing in Bavaria, spending a day in the market town of Rosenheim some 20 kilometers from the Austrian border. After a breakfast of dark bread and sausages, you take a stroll to see some of the historic sites in the old town district when you stumble on the mid-19th century Rathaus. No Gothic gargoyles here, just a handsome three story beige brick façade. Hmm, nice you think, none of the usual menacing medieval architecture.

As you turn to continue your exploring, you notice a statue standing high on a massive pedestal facing the wide plaza in front the Rathaus. The morning sun puts the statue in silhouette, but you feel there is something familiar about the bulky frame of the honored figure guarding his hometown City Hall.

You walk around to the front and notice the figure’s long overcoat is actually a military uniform. And the hat! You can see now an eerily familiar insignia of an eagle, wings spread, perched over an iron globe. And there it is, inside the globe, the universal mark of evil, the Nazi swastika! You let out an involuntary gasp, embarrassed that a local citizen might take offense.

Who is this man in the towering bronze monument? Oh no! Now you remember that large beefy face and contemptuous scowl. This is a statue of Hermann Göring, Hitler’s right-hand man, Luftwaffe marshal, and architect of the London blitz. But how could there be a statue of this monster here in modern, democratic Germany?

Back at the hotel you go online and find that the Göring statue was erected in 1970, 25 years after the war. More searches turn up Nazi monuments scattered throughout the Federal Republic of Germany, some erected as recently as 2010.

You meet with your old friend Hans Schroeder who assures you that the WWII monuments have nothing to do with Nazism, but that they are important cultural landmarks celebrating German heritage. This inspires Hans into sentimental reminiscing over the many accomplishments of the great men who fought for the glory of the Third Reich. You are stunned. Hans always seemed like a reasonable, educated person, progressive in his politics with no hint of racism.air_force_commander-in-chief_command_reverse1

On the train heading to Munich you scan the news and find more of this “Back to the Future” style madness.

The top story reports that some students protesting Nazi memorials were demanding that a statue of Hitler be removed from the site of the Munich beer hall of Putsch fame. Other protesters in Dresden tore down the Saxony State flag flying over the capital building because of the inclusion of the Nazi swastika in the upper left corner of the banner.

A week later you board a Delta flight at Frankfurt, eager to leave this Never-never-land of Nazi nostalgia. You think of how comforting it’s going to be to return to the sanity and civility of your peaceful and truly democratic hometown, Atlanta, Georgia.


The controversy over Civil War symbols is focused on the “rebel flag”


and statues of Confederate generals.


Those who want to protect these symbols claim they represent the cultural heritage of the American South.

The fact is that the flag popularized today is only an abbreviated form of the official flag of the Confederate States of America.


And none of the statues existed during the short, violent life of the CSA (February, 1861 — April, 1865).

In fact, most were erected from 1890 to as recent as 2010.


For those who want to preserve the true heritage of the Antebellum South, there are plenty of architectural monuments and artistic imagery to choose from.

The elegant homes of the plantation owners.

The adjacent hovels that housed their enslaved workers.

And of course, art works and monuments depicting the cruelties inherent in an economy based on slave labor.

Part of a statue at the National Memorial for Peace and Justice, in Montgomery, Alabama, a new memorial to honor the thousands of people killed in racist lynchings. (AP Photo/Brynn Anderson)

Words. What are words?

Image: Donald Ian McCaw

Words. What are words?
Left alone they are leaves upon the waves,
drifting with no purpose, no course;
random scars on an unmarked grave,
showing no mourning, no remorse.

Words. What are words?
Recited, repeated, quoted from another,
they are runes of an alien tongue,
far from thoughts born of pain and wonder.

Words. What are words?
Spilled without thought, or
flung for power or pleasure,
words are weapons to lay foes asunder.

Words. What are words?
Inscribed on sheets of paper
or liquid crystal display,
their printed form claims power
only the erudite dare gainsay.

Words. What are words?
Without malice, artifice; but pure and pristine,
words are the elixir, the verbal grist,
the savior that can with one’s own breath
the most reticent soul redeem.




Can'tHappenHere  514WczS9x2L

I started the corona months with Sinclair Lewis’ It Can’t Happen Here and moved on to The Last President.

I’m now about to dive into Camus’ La Peste. It’s been so long, I’ve forgotten a lot of it.


Inspired (or enraged) by current news events, I’m now thinking of ordering:

Julius CaesarCover     51sv650tzhL

A great classic worth re-reading and something to refresh my knowledge of American history.

Il Duce  101827

After seeing the corona devastation in Italy, so much like the war; and something to remind me of my German heritage.

Oswald's Tale

Finally, Norman Mailer, who I always admired but never got around to reading. Now’s my chance.