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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 9 of 9)
“You mean you don’t wear that uniform all the time?” she said slyly.
“Just for occasions like this,” he admitted.
“Well, I think it looks very becoming. Here, just punch in your number and I’ll send you a text.”
Newman’s fingers quavered as he touched the screen. He realized he had forgotten his own phone number.
“Listen, do you now anywhere else where I could buy a bag of groceries without going through…?” She nodded forebodingly toward the security gate. “I only have to pick up a few things.”
“There’s nothing much left,” said Newman. “There’s a couple of little bodegas in the Mexican part of town. One of our boys’ parents owns one.”
“It’s so ridiculous, isn’t it?” she said, eyeing the monolith. “Have you seen those new guides they have in there now, telling people what to buy? ‘Don’t take this, don’t eat that. It’s not good for you.’ Do they think we’re a bunch of children?” Newman had never heard anyone talk this way.
“I have a tough time convincing these guys there was a time you could shop without explaining everything to the TSA,” said Newman. She flashed him a significant look.
“Well, listen, I have to run,” she said, stuffing her iWorld back in her purse. “But do get in touch. I’m serious about forming this new group. Somebody has better do something. Have you heard this story about how they’re going to start asking Chinese orphans to register with the government? They say it’s just to show the Chinese there aren’t that many of them, but you know where that’s going to lead.”
She suddenly turned apologetically. “Oh, I almost forgot. My name’s Marilyn Hu,” she said, offering her hand. “We’ve got so many addresses these days we forget to use first and last names.”
“I’m Newman. Ed Newman,” he managed to say.
“Very nice to meet you, Ed. Do get in touch.” And she scurried off.
Newman watched her trot toward the gate. Then he turned to assemble the boys. A light rain had begun to fall and it was time to go. Already he was starting to miss her.
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?
H/T to National Review Online