The grass is always greener in someone else’s past

Note: Editorial interpolations are in italics.

As compiled by conservative blogger Pitcairn, this conservative gripe/wish list is by turns touching, offensive, baffling, and just plain silly. But what really grabs attention is Pitcairn’s shocking offer: He promises to become the Democrats’ bitch if only they will make America like it was in his parents’ prime.

Unfortunately, Pitcairn doesn’t bother to specify when his parents’ prime was, but we can safely conclude it was before the rise of rap music, the fall of Old Europe, and the mysterious disappearance of Scotts Turf Builder from every Home Depot in a 100-mile radius….

Give me green-grass neighborhoods and places where children can thrive, free of child molesters and black rap “artists” and homeless solicitors. A place where families can take the time to be families and can cherish the ideal of the European-based society that America has always been, and forever, should be.

And once the hip-hopping, child-molesting, homeless solicitors -- presumably not unemployed British lawyers -- have been disappeared from his neighborhood, Pitcairn really lets his dreams take flight….

Give me a chance to go on vacation and time to take off work -- even though I am always yelling that union members are anti-Christs in-waiting and stroked out when the Family and Medical Leave Act was passed....

To see my children earn awards from a public school for real academic achievement and from a place where they learned about George Washington and Thomas Jefferson, except the naughty bits about slave-holding and miscegenation....

And those men that stormed the beaches at Gold and Utah but not those men that stormed the beaches of the China Sea and the sand dunes of Iraq because, well, things didn't quite go as planned.

A sense that, perhaps, they have been taught the same values and morals and ethics as their grandparents, who got theirs back and more from Social Security and Medicare even though they screamed about ponzi schemes and communism until the day they turned 65.

An environment free of multi-cultural sex at 14. Unicultural sex is okay as long as it doesn’t involve my daughters, condoms, oral contraceptives, Plan B, abortion or same-sex sex not involving Catholic priests.

And a learning environment that is not cowardly bereft of instilling strict discipline because these days you can strip search students and randomly drug-test them but for some reason you‘re not allowed to hit them.

Give me clean streets and orderly surroundings but don’t raise my taxes, you bastards; and a good work environment with no meddling OSHA or EOE oversight, where hard work is rewarded and appreciated as long as it doesn’t conflict with whatever God’s own free market will bear....

Where the boss does not have to instinctively feed upon his workers by eliminating benefits to fund the cultural protections -- little jail time for big white-collar crime -- that [he] now needs to live the life of his parents because the kleptocractic pie is shrinking.

Give me God and Church and time to honor The Almighty, not just when I find time (usually only on Sundays and only when there isn’t a good game on) but also when walking the streets of my town at Christmas and at Easter—free to see a crèche or statue of Christ and not ask my children to turn their heads away because somebody’s cluttered up the display with a menorah and some Kwanzaa doodad.

Allow my family the right to be a Christian American citizen without the stigma of social inferiority, which should be strictly reserved for non-Christians and non-Americans....

Or berated for our belief that Life -- especially my life and that of my family and their unborn babies and the unborn babies of their unborn babies -- should be socially sacred, but not Life in those culturally inferior regions where families and their unborn babies and the unborn babies of their unborn babies are too ignorant not to live in the bombing zones of predator drones.

Even though I constantly make fun of the French because those weenies get the entire month of August off for vacation, give me the right to time. Time to enjoy and contribute to my community by joining the Minuteman Movement and monitoring the Mexican border.

Time to talk to my neighbors and warn them that ACORN is taking over the country and have a beer with fellow veterans at the VFW and explain to them that only Republican car dealerships are being closed.

Give me time to play cards at the Knights of Columbus or lead my local community center by passing around petitions demanding to see Obama‘s real birth certificate.

Give me the right to hunt and fish, which I currently have but like to pretend is at all times imperiled, and enjoy the nature for which America has been so blessed without feeling that I am some out-of-touch reactionary survivalist because I shoot deer using an assault rifle and catch fish using underwater munitions.

Give me an America with secure borders and immigration policies and a confidence that the same will preserve the European-cultural base, by which I mean all European countries that are England, Scotland, and Ireland, upon which America was founded.

Give me the sense but not the reality that life is more than just work; where my own children will inherit a nation -- with no death tax! -- that their parents once thought indestructible, like Formica kitchen tables and linoleum flooring.