God Bless the Conservative Father

Michelle Obama sent yet another plea last week, imploring the common man to wish her husband a happy Father's Day.  That is to say, Mrs. Obama -- who undoubtedly left the note's details to staff as limited as her time is between book tours, lavish travel, and star-studded NYC campaign events -- has again called upon the people who must toil to fuel Mrs. Obama's lavish lifestyle to heap platitudes upon her petulant composite of a husband; and with a campaign donation from what little is left of our after tax dollars nonetheless.  

Nothing, and I mean nothing, (okay, many other things) over the last few mind-numbing years of tyrannical fundamental transformation, irks me more than these impertinent and incessant campaign requests -- birthdays, anniversaries, Valentine's, Mother's and Father's Day wishes for our Rulers, at the behest of our Rulers.  It would only be more irksome were Anna Wintour -- a natural for the next Hunger Game's Capitol villain --begging our adulations through her nauseatingly elitist brogue. 

Mrs. Obama made no mention of the soldier dad away from his family on Father's Day; not the new and nervous dad enthralled with the perfect new life entrusted him; not the hardworking and selfless, law-abiding, taxpaying dad; or the jobless father trying to keep his family afloat in the Obama economy.  No, the day belongs to Barack Hussein; the composite father who somehow fits fathering -- what appears to be a bi-annual photo op with his daughters walking hand in hand to church -- in between lavish celebrity-filled campaign events, secret meetings with Marxist friends, lawless fiat, economic ruin, and golf.  

If that is the father we are to honor, I'll pass.

Many of us were fortunate to be raised by a responsible, moral, conservative father --  imperfect though he may have been.  He scoffed when his children cried, "that's not fair."  He taught us work before play, the value of money, self-respect, right and wrong, and the limits of government and the power of personal responsibility -- if not in words, by his example.   I am grateful for many blessings, but a conservative father is chief among them.

My own father never organized anyone.  He expected people to organize their own lives, and their own communities, free from the obstacle of tyrannical government preferably.   He never presumed to rule over another, nor did he expect anyone to tell him how to live his life.   He never lectured from stadiums grandiosely flanked by Greek columns, but his words resonated.  He never padded a resume, nor embellished, let alone created, his own history.  And yet, his history speaks volumes.

My father grew up with strong, Christian, honorable men who served and defended this great nation, knew hard work, God-given liberty, and right and wrong.  My father grew up when Sunday was reserved for family and church; before helmets were required to walk to the mailbox; and before putting the playground bully in his place with a discreet right hook was criminal.   He knew how to change the oil in his own car, and how to farm and garden before leftists commandeered produce for social change.  He watched great men land on the moon, and even greater men returning from war.  He understood why soldiers fought those wars, and he was grateful and humbled.   He grew up before MTV was around to bash Christians, and glamorize teen pregnancy, victimhood, bad behavior, and hedonistic drunkards from the Jersey Shore.   To my knowledge, my father never dealt drugs, ate dog, nor perfectly recited the Islamic call to prayer.

My father's parents were teachers who believed education was rooted in classic academics -- reading, writing, arithmetic, and real history -- not lessons in social justice.  My father was a disciplined national championship swimmer.  He never received a trophy just for showing up at a swim meet.  He put himself through medical school when medicine was still a calling.  My dad must have been worried -- even terrified -- but he met every risk and sleepless night without complaint, even as more and more government crept into the practice he once loved and so ethically served.  He never missed a day of work, never put himself before any patient, and never removed any tonsils or feet needlessly.

My father never pitied himself, even when he and his wife learned they were unable to have children.  I'm sure it must pain them to see how flippantly the abortion industry treats the right to deny so many births if only for their shortcomings of normal, or gender, or for selfish convenience.  My father and mother adopted four children and raised them with love and discipline -- warts and all -- managing the rough patches and celebrating the mundane and grand milestones of life alike.  My father certainly never criticized or sent operatives to persecute a woman for staying home to raise children, which he knew to be very hard work.  And he never saw my brother -- technically, a minority -- as anything less, or more, than another human being.

My father never scratched his cheek with a certain finger in a very public and obscene gesture when speaking of his enemies.  Actually, he had no enemies.  He never dangled an obscene and insulting sexual innuendo publicly, or otherwise, about his children's mother.  He never ridiculed, shamed, or used lewd nicknames for those with whom he disagreed.   His inner circle of friends never included thugs, crooked politicians, terrorists, and Marxists.  He never once vacationed, dined, entertained, traveled, flew, hired staff, or lived on someone else's dime.  Ever.  He lived within his means at every stage of his life, managing to help the less fortunate whenever possible.  Most importantly, he worshipped God and taught his children to do the same.

His children went to college -- very expensive, privileged colleges -- presumably to learn and prepare for a career.   Along the way, one became quite radical in her thinking, perhaps out of some rebellion, or immaturity, or intellectual convenience -- turning her back on God, her nation's great history, denying the reality of human nature and the consequence of behavior; even marching in Washington for a woman's right to deny herself the greatest of all miracles bestowed her by God.  And, yet, her father never turned his back to her.

It's humbling to wish real men Happy Father's Day.   Conservative men, seemingly so out of fashion among the exposed underbelly of the Obama era Left -- heroic, self-deprecating, mentoring, imperfect dads who put God, family, country, and personal responsibility before their own self-interest and the fallible government of men.  Their words and deeds lay a foundation for their children capable of penetrating even the great noise of life. 

If only every child were so blessed.

Michelle Obama sent yet another plea last week, imploring the common man to wish her husband a happy Father's Day.  That is to say, Mrs. Obama -- who undoubtedly left the note's details to staff as limited as her time is between book tours, lavish travel, and star-studded NYC campaign events -- has again called upon the people who must toil to fuel Mrs. Obama's lavish lifestyle to heap platitudes upon her petulant composite of a husband; and with a campaign donation from what little is left of our after tax dollars nonetheless.  

Nothing, and I mean nothing, (okay, many other things) over the last few mind-numbing years of tyrannical fundamental transformation, irks me more than these impertinent and incessant campaign requests -- birthdays, anniversaries, Valentine's, Mother's and Father's Day wishes for our Rulers, at the behest of our Rulers.  It would only be more irksome were Anna Wintour -- a natural for the next Hunger Game's Capitol villain --begging our adulations through her nauseatingly elitist brogue. 

Mrs. Obama made no mention of the soldier dad away from his family on Father's Day; not the new and nervous dad enthralled with the perfect new life entrusted him; not the hardworking and selfless, law-abiding, taxpaying dad; or the jobless father trying to keep his family afloat in the Obama economy.  No, the day belongs to Barack Hussein; the composite father who somehow fits fathering -- what appears to be a bi-annual photo op with his daughters walking hand in hand to church -- in between lavish celebrity-filled campaign events, secret meetings with Marxist friends, lawless fiat, economic ruin, and golf.  

If that is the father we are to honor, I'll pass.

Many of us were fortunate to be raised by a responsible, moral, conservative father --  imperfect though he may have been.  He scoffed when his children cried, "that's not fair."  He taught us work before play, the value of money, self-respect, right and wrong, and the limits of government and the power of personal responsibility -- if not in words, by his example.   I am grateful for many blessings, but a conservative father is chief among them.

My own father never organized anyone.  He expected people to organize their own lives, and their own communities, free from the obstacle of tyrannical government preferably.   He never presumed to rule over another, nor did he expect anyone to tell him how to live his life.   He never lectured from stadiums grandiosely flanked by Greek columns, but his words resonated.  He never padded a resume, nor embellished, let alone created, his own history.  And yet, his history speaks volumes.

My father grew up with strong, Christian, honorable men who served and defended this great nation, knew hard work, God-given liberty, and right and wrong.  My father grew up when Sunday was reserved for family and church; before helmets were required to walk to the mailbox; and before putting the playground bully in his place with a discreet right hook was criminal.   He knew how to change the oil in his own car, and how to farm and garden before leftists commandeered produce for social change.  He watched great men land on the moon, and even greater men returning from war.  He understood why soldiers fought those wars, and he was grateful and humbled.   He grew up before MTV was around to bash Christians, and glamorize teen pregnancy, victimhood, bad behavior, and hedonistic drunkards from the Jersey Shore.   To my knowledge, my father never dealt drugs, ate dog, nor perfectly recited the Islamic call to prayer.

My father's parents were teachers who believed education was rooted in classic academics -- reading, writing, arithmetic, and real history -- not lessons in social justice.  My father was a disciplined national championship swimmer.  He never received a trophy just for showing up at a swim meet.  He put himself through medical school when medicine was still a calling.  My dad must have been worried -- even terrified -- but he met every risk and sleepless night without complaint, even as more and more government crept into the practice he once loved and so ethically served.  He never missed a day of work, never put himself before any patient, and never removed any tonsils or feet needlessly.

My father never pitied himself, even when he and his wife learned they were unable to have children.  I'm sure it must pain them to see how flippantly the abortion industry treats the right to deny so many births if only for their shortcomings of normal, or gender, or for selfish convenience.  My father and mother adopted four children and raised them with love and discipline -- warts and all -- managing the rough patches and celebrating the mundane and grand milestones of life alike.  My father certainly never criticized or sent operatives to persecute a woman for staying home to raise children, which he knew to be very hard work.  And he never saw my brother -- technically, a minority -- as anything less, or more, than another human being.

My father never scratched his cheek with a certain finger in a very public and obscene gesture when speaking of his enemies.  Actually, he had no enemies.  He never dangled an obscene and insulting sexual innuendo publicly, or otherwise, about his children's mother.  He never ridiculed, shamed, or used lewd nicknames for those with whom he disagreed.   His inner circle of friends never included thugs, crooked politicians, terrorists, and Marxists.  He never once vacationed, dined, entertained, traveled, flew, hired staff, or lived on someone else's dime.  Ever.  He lived within his means at every stage of his life, managing to help the less fortunate whenever possible.  Most importantly, he worshipped God and taught his children to do the same.

His children went to college -- very expensive, privileged colleges -- presumably to learn and prepare for a career.   Along the way, one became quite radical in her thinking, perhaps out of some rebellion, or immaturity, or intellectual convenience -- turning her back on God, her nation's great history, denying the reality of human nature and the consequence of behavior; even marching in Washington for a woman's right to deny herself the greatest of all miracles bestowed her by God.  And, yet, her father never turned his back to her.

It's humbling to wish real men Happy Father's Day.   Conservative men, seemingly so out of fashion among the exposed underbelly of the Obama era Left -- heroic, self-deprecating, mentoring, imperfect dads who put God, family, country, and personal responsibility before their own self-interest and the fallible government of men.  Their words and deeds lay a foundation for their children capable of penetrating even the great noise of life. 

If only every child were so blessed.

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