FORWARD into Oblivion

FORWARD into four more years of stagnation, high unemployment, gridlock, lies, corruption, cover ups of how many more Benghazis and murdered ambassadors and free weapons for drug lords, lies, appeasement and apology, blame games, illegal "recess" appointments, laws and regulations by executive order, lies, revenge, denigration of the Constitution, sky high fuel costs and decimation of America's energy production, disaster photo ops, faux renewable energy projects wasting tax money, lies, military decline, misery, sorrow, lamentation, and oblivion. The calamity of Obama's eight years will last for decades, and we shall all be living in a distopian America.

I am depressed. I am wearing all black today, and maybe tomorrow. I am in mourning for my country. Those who voted for Hugo Cha .., I mean, Barack Obama deserve the disaster they get, but the rest of us don't, even though we must suffer along with them. I don't want to live in the faux-Europe of Obamanation; I want to live in the United States of America under the inspired Constitution that the Progressives are now gleefully shredding into confetti for the Inaugural parade.

Thus is my cry of abject disappointment and depression and despair. I shall now go buy some chocolate chip ice cream to drown my woes before the price doubles again because of transportation costs, unless the Obamacrats have already banned ice cream; for my own good, of course.

A Sweet Little Song: Home

I came across an old song from 1931 that has a sweet melody and a wistful, nostalgic melancholy called Home (When Shadows Fall.)  This song, written by Peter van Steeden, Jeff and Harry Clarkson, is an apt description of my mental state most evenings as I watch the sunsets, especially now when it gets dark at 5:30 and the cold night descends. The meaning of home for me at this campground on my journey to the end is a sentimental blending of fifty years ago when I was "at home" with my parents and siblings, and my friends were close at hand; twenty years ago when my own children were all still "at home;" and now when my good wife and I spend a rare, quiet, and comfortable evening together "at home" like old folks. This song says it all.

Home (When Shadows Fall)
Evening brings the close of day,
Skies of blue begin to grey,
Crimson hues are fading in the west.
Evening ever brings to me
Dreams of days that used to be,
Memories of those I love the best.

When shadows fall
And trees whisper, "Day is ending",
My thoughts are ever wending home.
When crickets call,
My heart is forever yearning
Once more to be returning home.

When the hills conceal the setting sun,
Stars begin a-peeping, one by one.
Night covers all,
And though fortune may forsake me,
Sweet dreams will ever take me home.

Here is Johnny Crawford singing this song in 1985: