Swing on a Star

There is an old song about swinging on a star. This is from memory, so don’t get technical on me, but it goes something like this:

Oh, would you like to swing on a star,

carry moonbeams home in a jar,

and be better off than you are?

Or, would you rather be a:

Mule?

A mule is an animal

with long funny ears,

that pick up at everything he hears.

His back is scrawny, and his brain is weak.

He’s just plain stupid with a stubborn streak.

But if you hate to go to school,

You could grow up to be a mule.

As I recall, the song is rather unkind to pigs, as well.  Let me ask you this:

Would you rather be a:

Forgotten American?

Do you want to live in “flyover country,” work for a living wage, and raise your kids to value what you do?  Are your aspirations modest?  Are your goals limited to a home, a couple of vehicles, and maybe a fishing boat?  Do you like America the way it is, or do you want it to be fundamentally changed?  Do you want your children’s education to provide them with the skills they need to earn a living, or would you rather they learn that it is okay for another kid to have two mommies, that we have the right to murder the unborn, or that making a profit is bad?

Now, Jimmy Carter and Bill Clinton gave the name “Liberal” such a stench that people wanted to stop calling themselves that.  So, now they are “Progressives.”  Folks, a rose by any other name is still a rose.  Progressives want you to swing from their star … to make their dreams your dreams, and to teach your kids that you are a “hater” if you take exception to “Progressive” ideas.  If you don’t go along with their program, they marginalize you.  In the future, when they have more power, it will be reeducation camps.

Forgotten or not, I am proud to be an American.  I am happy clinging to my guns and my Bible.  I like retiring to an obscure little Idaho farm town, and driving a 15-year-old Ford pickup instead of going into debt for a new one.  I don’t care if it gets 17 mpg. and increases my carbon footprint.  I love “middle America” and my heart is in the heartland.  In the interest of full disclosure, my wife’s little dogs have a pedigree.

Sorry Progressives, your politically correct new-speak is lost on me.  So, you go swing on a star.