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Friday, October 30, 2020

Speak Now!

 

Depending on how you look at it, at least sheep have the fortune or misfortune of not knowing that the slaughter awaits them. Reason and logic escape them; therefore, they do not bleat as they are herded into the squeeze chute, they do not protest, they do not put up a fight, or try to stop the inevitable from happening.

The only time panic sets in is when they start to smell blood, and you can see realization dawning in their terrified eyes that this will not be a day like any other. By then, they are resigned to their fate, and though some bleat weakly, there is nothing much they can do to avoid the butcher’s knife.

Anyone with an ounce of sense and a gram of objectivity can see what’s coming. It doesn’t take revelation, prophecy, or tea leaves to see which way the wind is blowing or what will become of us if what has been dubbed the silent majority continues to cower in its silence.

We sat silent as overreaching tin pot governors stripped us of our constitutional rights. We shut down our churches, shuddered our businesses, and closed down the schools, which was only the beginning. We’ve endured the indecency of limp wristed effeminates with lisps telling us that we can’t go into an establishment because we’re not wearing a face diaper. We obliged when they insisted that it has to cover your nose as well as your mouth thoroughly, or you’ll be killing everyone in the Walmart, believing it was but for a season that would surely pass. We rationalized our silence; we justified our lack of opposition, thinking there wasn’t anything more they could take from us.

We were naïve enough to believe that the draconian instincts of power-mad intellectual inferiors would only go so far. We thought there were bridges they wouldn’t cross, and not only did they cross them, but they also dynamited them in their wake. Nuance has long since bled out and expired, and now everything is a nail in need of a hammer. Shut down everything forever! But what about businesses and jobs, and school, and children playing with other children? What about the tsunami of misery and anguish that will surely follow as a consequence of shuttering ourselves in our basements because of a malady that has a less than 1% mortality rate?

These are all questions we can no longer ask, even though they are crucial. Shut up and obey, or else! It doesn’t matter that you’ve run out of savings or that your kids are getting dangerously close to Lord of the Flies territory. Nope, all that is irrelevant because the people who have been getting paid all this time, the people who have waivers for every rule they foist upon you, said so. What’s more, they’ve been getting paid with your tax dollars! How do you like them apples?

At the risk of sounding hyperbolic, this coming Tuesday may be your last chance to speak up for yourself before you are no longer allowed to have a voice. There is no gentler way I can put it, and if you’ve got half the sense God gave you, you already know this to be the truth.

You’re a grown adult with a functioning brain, so I won’t presume to tell you how to think or what to do, but I will leave you with some food for thought to masticate upon through the weekend. You don’t send ducklings to fight off wolves, and you don’t hire hyenas to protect you from them either.

A sheepdog may be loud, unkempt, boisterous, and unsophisticated, but when it comes to it, he will defend the sheep from the wolves with his dying breath. The wolf and the hyena will always demonize and vilify the sheepdog because he stands between them and their prey. The ducklings will go along with whoever they think will get the upper hand because they just want to be eaten last.

We have seen the warp speed at which tyranny can be normalized, dissenting voices silenced, and opposing views suffocated. We have seen that silence emboldens the self-styled revolutionaries, and lack of pushback from the other three hundred-odd million is viewed as tacit agreement.

Ask anyone who’s lived under the jackboot of socialism or communism how it feels, and they’ll tell you. They will tell you the truth, not some utopian fantasy of what could be, but what it inevitably descends into every time. And before you break out your ‘that could never happen here’ drum, take a second to ponder all that has already happened.  

With love in Christ,

Michael Boldea Jr.

Monday, October 26, 2020

Worse Than Death

 For some in this world, death is the most horrifying thing this side of life. Especially for the atheistically minded, the great unknown of the great beyond is an ever-growing terror the older they get. The best they can hope for is nothingness, oblivion, or permanent fade-out absent awareness or sentience. That's the best! That's their ideal! That's the hope they cling to with white knuckle terror. And you wonder why they're always so somber, downtrodden, and sullen?

If the best possible outcome for one's future is nothingness, then the gloominess is understandable and warranted. People with no hope are rarely optimistic, jovial, and good-humored. This is why I'm always skeptical of sullen Christians or those who seem to fetishize the Apocalypse to the point of browbeating anyone who dares hope for a delay or postponement in its inevitable arrival.

Sorry, not sorry, there's nothing wrong in enjoying this present life, in wanting to see your kids grow up, or in hoping to see another summer. Apparently, anyone who doesn't want to relive the Communist era's nasty bits is now part of the New World Order. If you dare point to the fact that one candidate is demonstrably better than another, well, you're a sellout, and somehow the boogeymen in the shadows got to you.

How dare you encourage people to be practical in times such as these? You must tell them to hope in the return of John Kennedy Jr., look to the sky for the imminent alien invasion, and blame everything on the Rothschilds and Rockefellers because that way they'll be absolved of any personal responsibility. It's all pointless, hopeless, dark, and bleak! There's no point in coming out of your basement anymore. Maybe some bricks and mortar, and you can wall yourself in your basement. That way, you'll be sure to ride out the possibility of contracting mild flu-like symptoms.

Okay, rant over. I had to get it off my chest because it was bugging me, like a small stone in one's shoe or a hangnail that keeps snagging on your clothes.

As I said, for some, death is the worst thing ever, but for others, there is a fate worse than death. You can tell who these people are by how hard they try to remain relevant, whatever that means nowadays. These are the people who will go to any lengths to remain part of a conversation that passed them by eons ago, not realizing that all they're really doing is opening themselves up for ridicule and disdain.

For people such as these, death is not so much of a bother, but irrelevance and obscurity are. They would rather die a thousand deaths than be irrelevant or have the notion that they are somehow influential or shapers of conversation be irreparably shattered. The reason they despise this president to the point of madness is that his election ion 2016 proved what they had suspected all along: that people really don't care about their opinion and don't take them seriously when they insist you're supposed to stay in your home for the foreseeable future from their multi-million dollar estates.

Every pathetic, needy, attention-grabbing pseudo-celebrity is out in full force, trying to tell you what to think, what to do, how to vote, and who to vote for, and seeing them be proven irrelevant once more is something I look forward to with childlike glee.

With love in Christ,

Michael Boldea Jr. 

Saturday, October 17, 2020

The Principled One

 Say what you will about Donald Trump, but at least, somewhere along the way, he had the presence of mind to teach his children that crack is whack. It may seem like a small thing, something to wave off and dismiss because he’s just so direct and unapologetic when it comes to his positions, but the way a man’s children turn out and what they are like as adults tells you a lot about his character.

Apples don’t fall far from trees, chips don’t fly far from the old block, and children, more often than not, are a reflection of their parents, their upbringing, and the values instilled in them along the way.

Maybe, just maybe, if parents were parents and parented the way parents used to, we wouldn’t be talking about eight-year-old transgender children and how brave it is to allow kids who are unsure of what morning cereal they want to decide something that will alter their life permanently.

We’re not talking about getting pink hair for the summer here; we’re talking about irreparably altering one’s body through testosterone blockers and surgery, the effects of which are proven to spike suicidal tendencies and outright suicide through the roof.

It’s okay little Jimmy, as long as mommy’s bloated carcass can be on television for a few seconds, and strangers with agendas can call her brave, you can call yourself Jenny and end up overdosing on pills or hanging yourself in your teenage years.

For the longest time, we’ve been told that slow Joe is the principled one of the two men running for the highest office in the land. Every talking head has insisted that Joe has the moral convictions required of a great leader, that he is a man beyond reproach, and he wouldn’t dare to lower himself to the level of his opponent. Why there’s barely a mean tweet to be had, and other than sniffing little girls’ hair and being overly affectionate to the point of inappropriate with the fairer sex, he’s a paragon of virtue.

I can only speak for myself, but what made me want to be a man of character and principle was consistently seeing these virtues displayed in my grandfather and father. I wanted to aspire to goodness and decency because I saw the example in those who raised me. They never once sat me down and insisted that I be principled; they were principled. They lived it, and it made me want to live it as well.

If the e-mails clawing their way to the surface are to be believed, and there is no reason they shouldn’t be, they shed copious light on why crack, corruption, and loose women were the main staple of one Hunter Biden’s diet for the longest time.

I’m not even going to delve into the demonstrable truth that he started an intimate relationship with his brother’s wife upon his passing because I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt and assume he was following Yibbum. Laying that little tidbit aside, the rest of the picture coming into focus is stomach-churning, to say the least.

So, what do we know this far of this virtuous man, this good Catholic, this moral rock of Gibraltar? He is pro-abortion, insists that eight-year-olds should be able to pick their gender, demanded a taste from any profits his extended family made from peddling his name, has been credibly accused of rape, has a predilection for sniffing young ladies’ hair, and believes anyone who adheres to biblical doctrine is primitive. Not my words, his!

Maintaining the narrative that a run of the mill dirty politician is a virtuous man is so crucial that major internet platforms are willing to risk their survival to keep the public from seeing otherwise. Try as they might, they can’t keep a lid on the stories coming out about the level of corruption. I won’t go so far as to say I’m shocked because I grew up in a Communist country, so corrupt politicians were a given. However, I am saddened to realize that politicians are politicians the world over whether they’re siphoning millions from third world countries or first world countries.

Say what you will about the angry tweeter with the orange hair; call him angry, crass, blunt, direct, tactless, undiplomatic, but at least he’s not a politician. As an added bonus, all evidence points to the fact that he genuinely loves this country.  

With love in Christ,

Michael Boldea Jr. 

Wednesday, October 14, 2020

Between The Lines

Ever wonder why people who express a white-hot hatred for a nation and despise everything about its founding would want to rule it? It’s not so they can maintain it in the form in which it was conceived, and it’s not so they can govern judiciously for the good of its citizenry. To borrow a phrase from a now has-been dreamer, it’s to transform it fundamentally.

No sane individual puts forth the effort to sustain and build up something they detest, something they believe in the deep dark recesses of their heart is illegitimate, or in the infants' parlance pretending to be adults, unfair. Since when was the world fair? Since when was fairness for a handful of souls who chose their lot in life the ideal to be achieved at the expense of everyone else who toils, labors, and puts in the necessary effort to survive?

Since when is it fair to penalize someone who is responsible with their finances and who actively worked to pay off the debt they’d accrued? Am I missing something here? Why are the rest of us expected to go along with the notion of writing off the student debt of countless ne’er-do-wells who spent four years doing bong hits and going to keggers? Why should I be responsible for their poor choices?

Forced charity isn’t charity. If someone puts a gun to your head and insists that you donate to their cause, it’s not done out of the kindness of one’s heart; it’s done because of fear of the gun. Heartless and cruel as it may sound to some, we can’t save everyone from the consequences of the bad choices they’ve made in life. Sorry, that’s just the reality of it.  

I am more apt to show empathy toward someone who, through no fault of their own, just lost the business they’ve been building up for a decade than I am toward someone who wasted gobs and gobs of money getting a degree in the synchronized lesbian water dancers of the Paisa Region.

Should’ve listened to the old-timers who insisted that you’d get twice the bang for half the buck going to a trade school, but what do those salty old fellas know anyway? I mean, plumbing, electrical work, so passé. It may be passé, but it puts food on the table, something most degrees today can’t do.

So what’s the point of this morning’s rant? Well, dumb people are being promised things that those hoping to seize power have no way of delivering. Every time the word free is thrown around, as though slow Joe will just take a sponge and do away with trillions of dollars’ worth of debt if he gets elected, it’s an outright lie. There’s no such thing as free. Someone always ends up paying for it, and more often than not, it’s us, the little people.

When you have an entire generation being motivated to remain unmotivated and just sail through life on government handouts, you have a recipe for a disaster in the making. When you have disingenuous politicians promise things they can’t deliver just to get elected, people will no longer vote based on what’s right for the country in the long term but what’s suitable for their personal interest in the short term. What this means is that if enough people fall for the lies, sooner than you might imagine, we will no longer have a country to decimate or a constitutional republic to dismantle. The task will already have been done.

With love in Christ,

Michael Boldea Jr. 

Wednesday, October 7, 2020

An Innocent Man

I’ve always been a reader. Once I learned to read in English and discovered the public library, I was a teenager at peace, with no worry in the world. The books didn’t care that I was awkward, chubby, or that I wore pinstripe polyester slacks my grandmother sowed for me. The books accepted me for who I was, as I was, without the need for pretense or disguise.

If memory serves, somewhere around the sixth grade, I discovered The Count of Monte Cristo, a book written by Alexandre Dumas. Think what you will of the man, but he could spin a yarn. I can still remember the feeling of revulsion I felt at the thought of an innocent man being framed for a crime he did not commit just because someone felt like it, or because they had something to gain from it.

I believe this sense of revulsion is universal in anyone with a working moral compass, irrespective of who the individual in question might be. An innocent man is an innocent man, whether you like their attitude or not. An innocent man is an innocent man, whether you like the way they come across or not.

It becomes all the more repulsive when you discover that the innocent man in question was not only plotted against, but just how deep and intricate the plot was, and who was involved in it. A false story was fabricated out of whole cloth; it was run up the flagpole for approval to the highest echelons of power. It was then incessantly pumped by a compliant media until people accused an innocent man of treason and demanded he be hung in the streets.

Then, when this innocent man, knowing that he is innocent, knowing that he is being framed reacted, everyone rolled their eyes and chortled about how he comes off as mean and overly animated. For all the pearl clutchers, benchwarmers, armchair quarterbacks, and faux-prophets who were endlessly going on about how this president would be impeached for the Russian collusion, we now know was wholly fabricated, how would you react if you were falsely accused of betraying your country and conspiring with the enemy?

In case you’re not a news hawk, and have not kept abreast of what has just occurred, in a nutshell, Hillary Clinton came up with a plan to tie Donald Trump to Russia, former CIA chief Brennan briefed one Barack Hussein Obama on the idea, and once it got the green light, well, we know the rest.

An innocent man has not had a day or peace or rest for the last three and half years, because of a story concocted by a sore loser and approved by the sitting president of the most powerful country in the world. A story wholly fabricated, with not a tittle of truth therein. Let that sink in for a spell. Let that marinate, then ask yourself one simple but all-important question.

If they were willing to destroy an innocent man, his family, his acquaintances, and anyone close to him just because they thought they could, what depths of depravity are such people capable of? How far would they go to ensure that power was theirs in perpetuity once they got it?

As an aside, just so you get a glimpse of how incestuous and swampy the swamp is, the individual who first proposed vilifying Donald Trump by claiming Russian interference is now a top aide to one Joseph Robinette Biden Jr.

Once done, some things cannot be undone, and even if they could, it’s very painful. Ask anyone who once thought it was a swimming idea to get a face tattoo before realizing that ‘loser for life’ etched across their forehead limited their employment opportunities. You’ll get the gist of what I’m saying.

They have fought like rabid dogs to destroy an innocent man for the high crime of beating them in an election. His innocence is undeniable, yet I feel this is a story that will die a quick death because it does not fit the narrative. He’s unhinged; he comes off as abrasive; he despises the media; he goes on about fake news; wouldn’t you if they’d done to you what they’ve done to him for the past few years?

With love in Christ,

Michael Boldea Jr. 

Tuesday, October 6, 2020

The Decent Folks

Some mornings I wake up feeling as though I’m in some poorly written telenovela. Just when you thought Ignacio and Isabel would live happily ever after, here comes the dramatic music, and a wrench is thrown into the works that tests their love, devotion, and commitment. What do you mean you are not Ignacio, but rather Ignacio’s twin brother Fernando?

While the self-titled good people are trying to stuff the corks back into their champagne bottles and feel as though they wasted the weekend practicing sorrowful looks in the mirror while inwardly gleeful, evidence continues to mount that you can be seventy-four, chunky, and averse to physical exertion, and still survive the dreaded virus we’ve been told will kill us all if we don’t lock ourselves in our basements, and breathe through a face diaper.

Think what you will of this current president, but he has a way of upending a narrative like nobody else. A cough, some shortness of breath, and three days, and a declarative statement, that it’s counterproductive to let fear control your life and dominate you.

These past few days have been very telling. The folks who insist that they bleed empathy and belch magnanimity were the first ones to wish death upon a man, his wife, and anyone else in his sphere that dared not fall in line with their demented ramblings of gender spectrums or disagreed that milking a cow is tantamount to rape.

The mask has slipped, and what we got a glimpse of was grotesque and unnerving. No, these are not nice people. They are not empathetic or magnanimous. They are ghouls who pretend otherwise and put on a show to fool the gullible. They know that if anyone did see their true nature if anyone did get a glimpse of who they really are, they would naturally recoil in horror, but they couldn’t help themselves.

It was too rich, too juicy, to rife with possibilities. They could not contain their glee, and though many a botoxed mouth uttered the requisite thoughts and prayers, the glimmer in their eyes spoke immeasurably more. Reporters were already asking Nancy Pelosi if she’d measured for new drapes in the oval office, somehow skipping over the fact that there was still a Vice President who would take up the reins if anything were to incapacitate the president.

So why talk about this? Because you need to understand the depravity of those who would take the reins of power in this country if the decent folks sit on the sidelines. You need to understand the hollowness and inhumanity that they have devolved into, and once you do, maybe ask yourself what they would be willing to let you endure to achieve their goal.

Do not be indifferent to the present in the hope of a better future. Do not sit idly by because someone you know did the math, and this is it, rapture’s coming, and there’s no point to anything anymore anyway. This is why I’m not a fan of setting dates. If it causes you to be inactive, inert, complacent, or indifferent, it is counterproductive, and dare I say, antithetical to biblical teaching. Work, fight, run, pursue, take hold. Do that which you would do if Christ’s return were a thousand years away, that He might find you laboring, engaged, active, and productive when He does show.

Maybe I’m missing something, but the thought of His return ought to make us more active, not less. When the finish line is within sight, you don’t slow down; you speed up.

With love in Christ,

Michael Boldea Jr. 

Sunday, September 27, 2020

Little gods

I’ve always hated that feeling that I’m missing something. It never fails to gnaw at me, to cause me to toss and turn at night, and make me so singularly focused until I figure out the riddle that I could be mistaken for an autist.

It’s been happening for the past few months, and I wasn’t seeing whatever it was that I was supposed to be seeing. You know that feeling, when something registers in your subconscious, some defining event of paramount importance but you can’t put it into words, that’s what I’ve been living since about mid-March. It’s frustrating, annoying, and for someone who doesn’t like mysteries or cliffhangers, insufferable.

Yesterday my wife decided to make soup, so she sent me to the store for some ingredients she was missing. Being the dutiful husband I am, I jumped into my car without delay, and it was while driving to the store that something happened that allowed me to see what I hadn’t been able to for the longest time.

It’s less than a five-minute drive from our home to the store, but since they say most accidents happen within five miles of home, I’m more cautious running errands around town than I am on the open highway. I was signaling to turn into the store parking lot, with no oncoming traffic to speak of, when just out of habit, I threw a glance at my side mirror just in time to see a car swing to my left and pass me at breakneck speed. If I hadn’t glanced in the mirror, it would have likely been a pretty bad wreck, but that’s not the point of the story.

As the car passed me, I had a fraction of a second to take in the driver, and that’s when it all made sense. The clouds parted, the sky shone, an epiphany was had. It was a young girl, alone in the car, wearing a mask, one hand on the steering wheel, one hand holding up a cell phone.

It was in that instant that I realized what was gnawing at me, and also the underlying reason it was so jarring. Ever since the entire mask nonsense began, I’ve been noticing something that hadn’t registered. It’s mostly young people wearing the face diapers, or at least as far as I’ve seen, and that just didn’t make sense since they are the least likely to develop any serious complications.

From the young girls with the neck tattoos to the bearded hipsters with the man buns, they are the ones I see wiping down gallon bottles of booze with baby wipes and loading their carts with potato chips and despair after the requisite sanitization. Those my age and older seem to be going on about their lives just fine, not overly fearful or concerned, but not the young whose lifestyle choices are more likely to do them in than this virus.

It’s the ‘why’ of it that was gnawing at me, and all of a sudden, seeing that girl wearing her mask while trying to face time, so distracted that she almost rear-ended me, I finally got it. It’s about the illusion of control over one’s existence. It’s about trying to play god and insist that the simple act of putting on a soiled paper mask will keep you protected, safe, healthy, and immune. It’s about trying to tell God that he was wrong when He said that no man could add a day to his life by worrying.

No matter how you slice it, in the end, it’s always about rebellion. Men would rather live in terror and pretend they are in control than submit to God and know that no matter what, their lives won’t be over until He says they are over.

With love in Christ,

Michael Boldea Jr.