Back in June of 1969, I had just graduated from high school. That summer, two large outdoor rock festivals took place, a huge one on Yazgur’s Farm, in Bethel, NY, known as Woodstock, and the forerunner to Woodstock, though much smaller, the Atlantic City Pop Festival at the Atlantic City Race Track in NJ. There were, actually, 26 pop festivals that summer but the aforementioned two were local to me.
Who knew we were in the middle of the Hong Kong Flu pandemic that killed between one to four million people worldwide? I certainly don’t remember being aware of it. There were no mask mandates or social distancing requirements. No restaurants or mom & pop stores were shuttered. The only medical emergencies at Woodstock were relegated to a pregnancy or two, maybe a heart attack, and drug overdoses. and nobody showed up in Andromeda-Strain-style “zoot suits” to cart away the infected dead. I guess life was not so precious back then.
In fact, four years later, on January 22, 1973, the Supreme Court ruled, in Roe v Wade, that a, never before known, Constitutional right to privacy allowed women, with the help of a doctor, to kill their own progeny. And kill they did, to the tune of 1.2 million a year in the US, bringing us to the present day where the total of 45 years of wanton extermination has yielded over 60 million snuffed out American lives before the victim ever saw the light of day nor took a breath of air. And that opened the door for assisted suicide and euthanasia, that became all the rage. Yep, life was cheap… at least that’s what we were telling ourselves, and what we instilled in the minds of two generations of our youth.
And then suddenly, Donald Trump was preparing to run for a second term as president and we were stricken with the ChiCom Flu, or the Wuhan Virus, otherwise known, by the “woke”, as COVID-19. We were not as “woke”, in 1969, when we identified a pandemic by its place of origin. In the enlightened times of 2020, that would be pure xenophobia.
And just like that, life became so precious that no matter how much ruin was left in the wake of saving one person, it was worth it. It didn’t matter how many businesses were bankrupted, how many people lost their life’s savings, how many people were put out of work, how the futures of our school-aged children were compromised, how much alcohol and drug dependency increased, and how much despondency we spread making suicide an epidemic and an easy way out. It was all worth it to save one life… except, miraculously, the abortion clinics all remained open, not missing a beat, excepting the many halted heartbeats, peddling the easy life through the shirking of responsibility provided through abortion.
Yep, it’s strange what the fear of another four years of Donald Trump pushed the elites, and the deep swamp, to do. And what of “we the people”? We didn’t lose our liberty, we gave it up willingly, like sheep being led to the slaughter.
Go ahead, Change My Mind!
Change My Mind! 