American Antiques, Heroics And Follies - President Custer, Stop!

American antiques history, and since time began, show wise or foolish acts by leaders, and how the effects of actions or decisions made in haste, can cost lives unforeseen. As with King George who listened to none but the birds in his head, or General George who just had to down down into that gulley. Or the incumbent George of the world, who has created more explosions than the other Georges would be thrilled by.

Custer had performed with occasional brilliance in the Civil War, and was lucky to survive several times. He was reprimanded often for rash actions. After the war, he took to the bottle and his wife pleaded that the army give him something to do. I think that may have happened in the Bush household as well, and the many powerful friends of dad had Georgie on his way, coat tails ablaze and glorious. All would be well, another wise Bush in the White House.

Well, that is not quite the way events have ended so far. In fact, the wise friends of dad have been rebuffed so often and with such abruptness that they know where their advice has been filed.

And who needs the wisdom of Howard Baker when Dick can give a quick answer with a rude bite better than me. This indelible trail of deceit and denial of science, economics, logic, decent human respect for other nations, talk to your enemies as well as your friends, or you are soon so out of touch. Ask your very fine and wise daddy. A Diamond who spawned a lump of coal.

Ask Lincoln, or Jefferson. If you make it to heaven, which I doubt, George you could ask a far wiser George than you, how did you keep them loyal without shoes that winter at Valley Forge. They were all sharing the pain all as one, not the oil baron off in his castle driving us mad with the scent of food. A very different George.

So soon, by George, after you they may want to rename Georgetown something more in keeping with our legacy. Some of your playmates in Congress who stole from the poor and gave to the rich might suggest Skunk Hollow, until the elephants have all vacated, or enough to turn the world on a more congenial axis once more. And you just watch, by George, this will come to be,or we shall see, between you and me, more mindless killing and deaf ears and sight of blind mice still running free. Oh dear me.

So the rump of that elephant will soon waddle home, leaving the donkey serenade to clean to the bone. Out, shyster, and huckster, and distorter of hopes; No Child Left Out means less, not more money for poor dopes. Besides the tax cut from that goes to my pals. As mom said at Katrina, oh well these people are used to living like this.

So much for a Conservative who said that was pale. His compassion and soul are in his blood thick as shale. Or oil sands in Canada that we think are ours. While we bully, build borders, and bomb who we will. You are with us or not, we are all down that gully. There are Indians and children down there to shoot, so hand me Dick's rifle and blindfold me too. We shall see who is master, and shall soon go.

And as that gentle philosopher Ronald Reagan would simply ask, do you feel better of today than you did eight years ago? Most town halls have the same roar no that Reagan heard back then. By George, I sense a fresh breeze coming on. And it is only my opinion, one more squeak in the crowd. Soon, our Johnnies and Jillies will come marching home to hero parades all over America.

It will be healing time all over America with relieved tears and laughter as daddies meet babies, and babies hug their mummies, all promising they are not going off to war again that way again. And the healing feeling in America is building. Things may go sideways, they always do. But renewal, healing, all the lessons of Sunday School how to treat and respect your neighbor should begin to heal hearts and bodies elsewhere.

It does take a model Greece democratic mind rather than a steely eyed Roman Republican who has the shifty morals that followed Caesar into the grave. No swords in the back George, although your party is a master at that kind of sword play, all opponents, including John McCain, hav women's coats online e felt those swords. rust, but verify. And with this wrecking crew, every and now and then duck, some times their guns go off just out of fun and games.

What a great Roman party it has been, too. We have managed the undo that silly Clinton plan to pay off the debt within the decade. Golly, we turned the world into flame, lost most of our best friends, have emptied the Treasury. Let's see, I have some time left, who can we pick a fight with now? Take over the dirty fighting in Kandahar from Canada? No. Bin Ladin might be there. Pick more fights with Iran? Aha. Is one of their leaders a guy named Sitting Bull? He tried to kill my daddy.

What are we waiting for, ignore any reports that do not support my innate genius for understanding all after I explain my plans to God, I have never heard thunder or any hint of disagreement. So we are fine Up There. God is with me, even says I can read the soul of Putin. That Vlad, funny guy. Cuts off oil to Europe in freezing storm, always making with the wise cracks.

Well, by George, enough about this. My great ancestor was Miles Keough who was second in command to Custer. As you imagine, the family are proud of my great great uncle Miles, and if you look on a map you see two towns in Montana, one named Miles City, and the other Keough.

Another thing about that. I have a photo of uncle Miles in front of me. He is, as John Wayne had said in a movie about him, a fine looking man. His dark hair likely had some red in it, being Irish, and his dark Irish eyes and confident square jawed smile show a man who even dead, would not have been mistaken for Custer with his golden hair that likely dangles in some teepee somewhere in those hills.

My great uncle Miles' horse was the only survivor on "our" side at Little Big Horn, and we have a painting of our horse. We would like to think that as the fury on their side died down, and they stood next to this dead black eyed captain and his horse, let his horse be.

And if we could respect each other, eye to eye, and not as from the back end of the horse doing the speaking and thinking, progress, not flatulence, is in the air soon.