Our monthly Diarist’s print magazine installment.
(Page 3 of 3)
Again, I stayed up way too late, and went out for a bike ride.
Again, too damned hot. I gave up and went to the Safeway. I now feel as if I am bidding against the entire People’s Republic of China for everything I want to eat. The government says there is no inflation. Have they been shopping recently? Grocery prices are insane.
Back to our condo. I am having a great time reading a book about oil in Alaska, Crude Awakening by Amanda Coyne and Tony Hopfinger. It is beautifully written and meticulously researched. It’s scary how much sudden wealth changes things.
Then, time to meet up with our pals Tim and Penny Farmin for a ride across the lake to Ivano’s Del Lago at Hope, Idaho, for supper. It is still too hot. But the Cobalt did its job perfectly, and I parked it without crashing, so I am happy.
At the restaurant, I noticed that almost every diner had gray or white hair. They also all looked amazingly happy and cheerful. They were making conversation, listening to 1940s and 1930s classics played by a local trio, and looking at the stupefyingly glorious reddish orange sunset. These are men and women who have paid their dues—retired teachers, retired cops, retired small businessmen. Now, they are savoring the sunset in many ways.
My wife had rigatoni. I had some processed food. There I was—gray-haired with other gray-haired people. And the people looked so happy it brought tears to my old, processed food eyes. These people have known work and struggle—and now they know gratitude. That is something no government handout can give you. You cannot organize to make government give you self-respect.
I had a processed chocolate brownie for dessert, and then we got into the Cobalt and headed home in the twilight. What a glorious, magical evening with the fading evening light on the glassy water. Thank you, thank you, thank you, dear God. Thank you for the men and women whose suffering makes this possible. Thank you, God, for your servants who help this man and his family be so happy. And please tell my Pop I said hello.
A man of faith in a godless age is hitting Americans where it hurts.
Mr. and Mrs. American Spectator Reader, let P.J. O’Rourke talk sense to your kids.
In Britain, defending your property can get you life.
The debacle of this president’s administration is both a cause and a symptom of the decline of American values. Unless Congress impeaches him, that decline will go on unchecked. An eminent jurist surveys the damage and assesses the chances for the recovery of our culture.
It won’t take long for conservatives to scratch this presidential wannabe off their 2008 scorecard.
The American Christmas, like the songs that celebrate it, makes room for everybody under the rainbow. Is that why so many people seem to be hostile to it?
Was the President done in by the economy, or by the politics of the economy?