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December 10, 2012 | 51 comments
Chapter 10 of Mr. Tucker’s new novel 2065, which we are serializing, on China’s invasion of Pearl Harbor fifty years after Obama.
(Page 5 of 9)
“Yeah, it’s terrible, isn’t it? Those Chinese coming over here and taking out jobs. We ought to send them back, right?”
The boys looked puzzled.
“No, we want them to stay here,” said Skipper finally. “The Chinese are the ones who want them to go back.”
“Oh,” said the man, looking at Newman in embarrassment. “Sure, give me that thing. I’ll sign.” He scrawled his signature, then handed it back
“Alright, you guys, now get out there,” said Newman, shooing them away. The two men were left standing alone.
“This is a wonderful thing you’re doing,” said the man as they watched the troop scatter. “I should have gotten my boys into Scouts. They must be 16 by now. 16 and 15, I think.”
“What happened?” said Newman, knowing he didn’t have to ask.
“Ah, my old lady went on disability,” he said. “She didn’t like my drinking.”
“Why didn’t you stop drinking?” Newman asked. He knew he had broken the rules. Moral judgments weren’t tolerated anymore. Yet he pressed forward anyway. It happened every time he spoke to another man these days — that sense of mutual failure. Something had gone horribly wrong, something was lost — that feeling among men of being bound up in some collective work, some common identity. You do your job, I’ll do mine, and everything will be alright. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt that way with anybody.
“What do you think of this Hawaii thing?” he asked, trying for some common ground.
“I don’t know,” said the man. “Seems like we ought to give it up, don’t you think? Nothing but a bunch of Chinks out there anyway.”
“They’re all Americans as far as I can see,” said Newman, trying to keep his voice regular.
“Well, I suppose so,” said the man.
The boys came running back brandishing a few more signatures and the conversation ended. “Well, good luck fellas,” waved the drunk, assuring them that he still had command of his faculties.
“Was there something the matter with that guy?” asked Squirrel.
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?