Storm of an Epoch

I have navigated over and around many storms over my years as a professional pilot. I have seen from the air squall lines, gust fronts, dry lines, rotor clouds, tornadoes, and hurricanes. None, however, frightened me as much as does the coming geopolitical storm. Nothing gives perspective on a storm better than altitude. The same is true in politics.

With sufficient reserves and altitude, it is possible to circumnavigate any storm. Few things are more beautiful or exhilarating than to glide past an exploding cumulonimbus storm cell at a safe distance. The crisp white scalloped edges belie the deadly power within. The cauliflowered heads rocket upward at a stratospheric pace. These aerial landmines are harmless at a distance. However, more than one craft has ventured too close, cut the corner too tight, shot a gap too narrow, and paid the ultimate price.

Above the dingy haze of politics, it is possible to see things as they really are. The United States is bankrupt -- economically, politically, socially, morally, and spiritually. For too long, those in power have navigated this nation ever closer to disaster. Our nation is surrounded by landmines of our own making. The financial bailouts, corporate takeovers, energy takeover, and the health care takeover, are prime examples of the willful eunuchification of American exceptionalism. America as it once was is over. The utopian sucker hole of legislated equality promised a reality not possible on this plane of existence. So long as there are good and evil, there can be no utopia. So long as there is freedom to choose between the two, there is hope.

Those in Washington have maneuvered these United States into an extremely tenuous position. The squall line is dead ahead, and there is no room to turn around. The preceding shock waves that led the market's decline and current unemployment levels are only harbingers of the coming tempest. America as we know it is out of altitude and out of gas. The inevitable is upon us. Where do those of us who subscribe to American exceptionalism turn to?

I choose to take hope in the coming storm. The gust-front has yet to hit. There is still a little more time to prepare. The current political wind is but a precursor of the impending fury -- a gentle breeze. The dark power lords have conjured a fiction of the highest magnitude. Their cumulonimbus rhetoric has reached stratospheric levels. They thunderously hammer away on a meaningless political anvil: beating sense to shreds, reason to rancor. In blinding fashion, the left attacks the right and the right the left. Pols crack and pundits shake in a hail of fire and ice. 

Neither suffix, delta nor rho, will matter in the coming storm. Each bows only to its gilded platform, upon which stands its utopian idol: power. Inherent in their worship is the belief that each one's set of ideas can make man into their own image -- that man is perfectible -- that man is god and God is man. For many politicians, government is their religion, their compass -- their navigation chart. This theology blinds politicians to the needs of those they represent. Political pursuit of power justifies the course they plot. Politicians consistently confuse their best interest with those of their constituents. Special interests cloud the collective vision from the hidden dangers ahead. Political expediency parlays meaningful change for quick votes. This is a religion of the most sinister form.

Belief in the theology of government, large or small, leads to a myopic vision of reality. The theology of government creates a sliding scale of reality. Good is what the government says is good, and evil likewise. History becomes what the government says it should be. Reality is what it won't let us see. Viewing the world through the cataract of government dims reason and enslaves all within its purview. The theology of government is a lens that clouds perception and deadens the senses. Dependence on government for that which we are capable of achieving ourselves destroys the freedom to choose. Individualism is lost in a sea of monochromatic mediocrity. 

Inherent in the freedom to choose is the belief that good and evil are immutable. I see it every day in my law practice. Be it rape, murder, robbery, or assault, all had a choice whether or not to commit the criminal act. None accidentally committed the crime. Government can't make them choose to obey the law -- only punish them for transgressing it. The maintenance of a lawful, law-abiding society must depend on the belief in right and wrong. Once that line is blurred, it is too late; the storm is already upon us.

I welcome this storm. The cleansing power of a storm is undeniable. Afterward, the air is fresh, the land verdant -- the sky crystalline. The deadwood has fallen and the weak have succumbed. The flood will shed, and the river will wash the detritus from the sand. I know where I have placed my faith. I know that I cannot stop the wind. Nor catch the storm. But I can take refuge on the high ground, in the cleft of the Rock. I am ready for this storm, this end. Archangel, let loose the wind.

Tad Wintermeyer is a practicing attorney and airline transport rated professional pilot.
I have navigated over and around many storms over my years as a professional pilot. I have seen from the air squall lines, gust fronts, dry lines, rotor clouds, tornadoes, and hurricanes. None, however, frightened me as much as does the coming geopolitical storm. Nothing gives perspective on a storm better than altitude. The same is true in politics.

With sufficient reserves and altitude, it is possible to circumnavigate any storm. Few things are more beautiful or exhilarating than to glide past an exploding cumulonimbus storm cell at a safe distance. The crisp white scalloped edges belie the deadly power within. The cauliflowered heads rocket upward at a stratospheric pace. These aerial landmines are harmless at a distance. However, more than one craft has ventured too close, cut the corner too tight, shot a gap too narrow, and paid the ultimate price.

Above the dingy haze of politics, it is possible to see things as they really are. The United States is bankrupt -- economically, politically, socially, morally, and spiritually. For too long, those in power have navigated this nation ever closer to disaster. Our nation is surrounded by landmines of our own making. The financial bailouts, corporate takeovers, energy takeover, and the health care takeover, are prime examples of the willful eunuchification of American exceptionalism. America as it once was is over. The utopian sucker hole of legislated equality promised a reality not possible on this plane of existence. So long as there are good and evil, there can be no utopia. So long as there is freedom to choose between the two, there is hope.

Those in Washington have maneuvered these United States into an extremely tenuous position. The squall line is dead ahead, and there is no room to turn around. The preceding shock waves that led the market's decline and current unemployment levels are only harbingers of the coming tempest. America as we know it is out of altitude and out of gas. The inevitable is upon us. Where do those of us who subscribe to American exceptionalism turn to?

I choose to take hope in the coming storm. The gust-front has yet to hit. There is still a little more time to prepare. The current political wind is but a precursor of the impending fury -- a gentle breeze. The dark power lords have conjured a fiction of the highest magnitude. Their cumulonimbus rhetoric has reached stratospheric levels. They thunderously hammer away on a meaningless political anvil: beating sense to shreds, reason to rancor. In blinding fashion, the left attacks the right and the right the left. Pols crack and pundits shake in a hail of fire and ice. 

Neither suffix, delta nor rho, will matter in the coming storm. Each bows only to its gilded platform, upon which stands its utopian idol: power. Inherent in their worship is the belief that each one's set of ideas can make man into their own image -- that man is perfectible -- that man is god and God is man. For many politicians, government is their religion, their compass -- their navigation chart. This theology blinds politicians to the needs of those they represent. Political pursuit of power justifies the course they plot. Politicians consistently confuse their best interest with those of their constituents. Special interests cloud the collective vision from the hidden dangers ahead. Political expediency parlays meaningful change for quick votes. This is a religion of the most sinister form.

Belief in the theology of government, large or small, leads to a myopic vision of reality. The theology of government creates a sliding scale of reality. Good is what the government says is good, and evil likewise. History becomes what the government says it should be. Reality is what it won't let us see. Viewing the world through the cataract of government dims reason and enslaves all within its purview. The theology of government is a lens that clouds perception and deadens the senses. Dependence on government for that which we are capable of achieving ourselves destroys the freedom to choose. Individualism is lost in a sea of monochromatic mediocrity. 

Inherent in the freedom to choose is the belief that good and evil are immutable. I see it every day in my law practice. Be it rape, murder, robbery, or assault, all had a choice whether or not to commit the criminal act. None accidentally committed the crime. Government can't make them choose to obey the law -- only punish them for transgressing it. The maintenance of a lawful, law-abiding society must depend on the belief in right and wrong. Once that line is blurred, it is too late; the storm is already upon us.

I welcome this storm. The cleansing power of a storm is undeniable. Afterward, the air is fresh, the land verdant -- the sky crystalline. The deadwood has fallen and the weak have succumbed. The flood will shed, and the river will wash the detritus from the sand. I know where I have placed my faith. I know that I cannot stop the wind. Nor catch the storm. But I can take refuge on the high ground, in the cleft of the Rock. I am ready for this storm, this end. Archangel, let loose the wind.

Tad Wintermeyer is a practicing attorney and airline transport rated professional pilot.

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