THE BALTIMORONS ARE OUT IN FORCE
It was a replay of last year's 9-11.
I'd had a pleasant day, lots of remembrances and reminders that life goes on even while we must defend our country, our freedom, our homes, our families.
Then I hop in the car for the drive home, and as I get out into the city I'm confronted by the most annoying sight: anti-war protestors line both sides of the streets, holding childish signs with bumper-sticker quality slogans.
"War is not the Answer"
When a bunch of fanatics, sponsored by hostile regimes, want to kill us all, war is most emphatically the answer. It's not even an answer. It's the answer.
"When we all seek an eye for an eye, the world goes blind"
We don't want an eye for an eye. We want to drive these maniacs from their caves and kill them, capice? For every one of us that dies, we're going to kill about a hundred of them. We're going to take over their countries and turn them into democracies. That ain't an eye for an eye. It's survival.
"Stop Bush's War for Empire"
What is this, the Skywalker Ranch? It's not a war for a friggin' empire, it's a war to defend freedom. It's a war to ensure that my kid can grow up more or less the way I did. It's a war to keep the next 9-11 from ending in a big flash and a mushroom cloud. War for empire, my a$$.
"Honk for Peace"
Very little honking at that one. Oh, one or two blasted their horns, but while they did about a hundred cars passed by kept their horns to themselves.
The protestors numbered maybe a couple hundred or so, nearly all of them graying and wrinkling, mostly at big intersections or in front of lefty churches (Episcopalean, Methodist, and in front of the Friends School--Quaker). They've lived their lives, they're collecting their Social Security checks and will soon be getting their free pills from my wallet. What do they care if the next generation's girls have to wear burkhas? What do they care if freedom goes down the toilet, and Western Civilization burns?
Thankfully, there was a glimmer of hope. As I drove past one knot of those who wish to make the world safe for terrorists, I came under a walkway that spanned the street above. It was filled with students from one of the city's universities. Where the old farts had been toting noxious nonsense, the kids held something bright and colorful, that caught the early autumn breeze like a hint of grace: Old Glory. The American flag. No moronic protest signs. And it was clear that the students were counter-demonstrating against the streetside rabble.
The oldsters still don't get it, but the kids do.
Thank God.
MORE: Whaddya think--would this sign sell nowadays?












