posted on Nov, 23 2012 @ 10:55 AM
It always astonishes me when people say “I’m proud to be an American”. Whenever I hear that phrase I want to reply, “Wow, that was a major
accomplishment, how did you pull it off?” Like Lee Greenwood’s moving song lyrics, “… where at least I know I’m free”. Don’t you just
shake your head at that line with a sense of wonderment at how many things Americans believe they know that they, in fact, don’t.
C’mon people, unless you swam to America from distant shores through shark infested waters, of which one could justifiably be proud, being American
is purely an accident of birth. It can make one lucky or unlucky, grateful or disgusted, or any number of other adjectives, but prideful can’t be
one of them.
Like gay pride, which is really silly when you consider that in the next breath they’ll tell you they were born that way. No choices, no great
accomplishments, just genes.
Same goes for white pride or any other color, shape or size of pride. Pride goeth before the fall and the ones who really need a walker to stay
upright are those who are so proud of being born one thing or another that they automatically despise anyone who wasn’t born that exact same thing.
Watch them striding through your neighborhoods with clipboards taking notes on how everyone else must conform to their superior rules, and flaming
across the pages of ATS screaming for bloody reprisals against concocted enemies, and marching around the world carrying explosives, trying to reshape
everything and everyone into their own images of “acceptable”.
The really sad part of it all is that they don’t realize that they’re hated in return not for being born a better thing in a better place, but for
being so stubbornly prideful about things over which they have absolutely no control. They are merely useful tools in the hands of the really prideful
bastards who believe they should own the world, including the tools in the shed.
What we need are more humble Americans (and others) who are cognizant of the fact that one little slip of God’s wrist (or fate) and they could be a
Palestinian grandmother sitting on a pile of rubble which was once her home with her beloved grandchildren lying dead in the rubble. Or a Pakistani
herdsman with bomb laden drones flying overhead and a red dot glowing on his turban, or an Iraqi woman who’s been forced by war into prostitution to
feed her children. Or stuck in some rendition factory where no one knows or cares about his suffering. Who, looking at current lawmaking, doesn’t
know that if we keep going the way we’re going all of these things actually could happen in America to Americans?
Then again, on the other hand, defending one’s home and family against invaders and against horrific odds, wherever that home and family may be,
does carry a reasonable justification for pride. Odd it is then that it is most often its the invaders with bigger guns who suffer an overabundance
of pride and entitlement. Isn’t that kind of backwards? Shouldn’t we rethink our priorities and maybe take the Hippocratic oath ~ “first, do