Dan Gelernter has an important message he’d like to share with us.

Don’t Laugh at the Man Who Falls Off a Bicycle
It’s true that we could all use a little humor in times of crisis, but news of Joe Biden falling off his bicycle isn’t funny,

Isn’t funny? Like HELL it ain’t.

and this crisis is too serious. When you laugh at Biden, you grant him undeserved importance—as though he were president of the United States.

Not on your life, bub. If there’s one thing the Biden marionette has amply demonstrated for one and all, it’s how truly UNimportant he actually is. With every pratfall, garbled speech, or vacant, confusticated thousand-yard stare as he tries to figure out where he is and why those pushy sonsabitches have brought him out to wherever this is, more and more people come to realize the painful truth: that this shambolic rutabaga fraudulently installed in the White House under highly questionable circumstances is nothing more than a figurehead, a third-rate Swamp rat impersonating a real US President.

This truth is a painful one because it raises some very serious questions regarding the office of the presidency its own self, among them…

1) Just how important, really, is said office to the way the country is run anymore
2) Just who, and how many of them, might really be running said country
C) Just who, really, do said people think they are
Quatre) Just how long this little bait-and-switch of a charade of a kabuki-theater dumbshow might really have been going on, right under our very noses
Five) Just what We The People ought to do about all this, really

To me, the correct answer to that last seems fairly obvious, but then I could be getting a bit jaded and irascible in my dotage, I admit.

Biden is not president of the United States. He wasn’t elected, and he certainly isn’t running the country. We are reliving the twilight of the Wilson Administration: As Churchill put it in The Second World War, Wilson “suffered a paralytic stroke just as he was setting forth on his campaign, and lingered henceforward a futile wreck for a great part of two long and vital years.” In the meantime, historians have assured us, Wilson’s wife was running the country. If this is so, we may partially credit Edith Wilson with having laid the groundwork for World War II.

In reality, Edith was no more in charge in 1919 than Mrs. (I mean Dr.) Jill Biden is now. A weak or nonexistent president is an opportunity for professional politicians and professional bureaucrats to do what they most love: To exercise power without accountability. To steal it. To usurp it.

Look at funny Joe Biden, falling off his bicycle, losing his way back from the podium, losing his way in the middle of a sentence. The people who have stolen the office of president want you to look at him. They want you to blame him.

They want you to pretend that the utter destruction of America—of our economy, our property, our peace, our freedom, our ability to defend ourselves from madmen and from the government—is just an accidental result wrought by a comedy-clown president who’s lost his mind.

In reality this is a deliberate plan by people who know exactly what they’re doing and who are achieving exactly what they want.

These people also want you to look forward to the next election. They want you to vote, to be excited about voting, to think of nothing else but the moment when you get to exercise your right to choose your own government and throw the bums out of office. Of course it will be a big disappointment to you when the outrage you thought was sweeping the nation doesn’t actually materialize—or when it disappears in the middle of the night while the polls are closed and we’re all in bed.

The biggest disappointment of all is the moment it finally hits home—two, three, four years after across-the-board, tide-turning Republican majorities have been swept into office en masse on the strength of endless solemn promises of “change,” “restoration,” and “renewal”—that the only truly substantive “change” to be seen is in how that ten extra pounds of belly-flab you piled on whilst sitting around waiting for all that “change” to materialize has forced you to loosen your belt a notch or two.

Other than the unfortunate weight gain, though, everything appears to be just as it was on the day all those GOP freshmen Reps and Senators swore the oath they quietly intended to traduce before they’d left the very first ass-indentation in the deluxe new calf’s leather office chairs you, the taxpayer, bought for them. To be sure, the government got bigger, more powerful, and more meddlesome. Taxes were raised, again, the additional funds flushed down various DC sewer pipes with none of the “change” it was supposed to buy us anywhere in sight. Several hundred more unneeded, unwanted, and unhelpful laws were passed—in sum, yet another encore of the whole crass Vaudeville act we’re all sick and tired of watching the “right wing” of the Uniparty perform for us.

SO. One more time, then: Just what are We The People going to DO about all this, really? Also, can any Real American suggest, with a straight face, that there are any methods, tactics, or tools AT ALL which of right ought to be preemptively proclaimed off limits as too “extreme” for us to resort to? Are we so brazen, so callow and self-absorbed, that we dare to propose that the selfsame “extremes” deemed perfectly acceptable by our forefathers in bringing forth a new nation founded on individual liberty and natural rights as a blessing upon themselves and their posterity are now to be considered much too barbaric and unthinkable to be contemplated by their more-highly-evolved heirs in the reclamation of their ravaged nation and the restoration of their purloined liberty? Do we really care so little for our own posterity that we think them unworthy of making the same sacrifice for their sake that America’s Founders made for ours?

Can it be possible that we’ve fallen so far as that, then?!? Forbid it, almighty God! Which quote makes me think this might be a perfect time for some reposting. I implore you, do NOT fail to read all of the following passage. You’ve seen this material before, yes. But still.

The question before the House is one of awful moment to this country. For my own part, I consider it as nothing less than a question of freedom or slavery; and in proportion to the magnitude of the subject ought to be the freedom of the debate. It is only in this way that we can hope to arrive at truth, and fulfill the great responsibility which we hold to God and our country. Should I keep back my opinions at such a time, through fear of giving offense, I should consider myself as guilty of treason towards my country, and of an act of disloyalty toward the Majesty of Heaven, which I revere above all earthly kings.

Mr. President, it is natural to man to indulge in the illusions of hope. We are apt to shut our eyes against a painful truth, and listen to the song of that siren till she transforms us into beasts. Is this the part of wise men, engaged in a great and arduous struggle for liberty? Are we disposed to be of the number of those who, having eyes, see not, and, having ears, hear not, the things which so nearly concern their temporal salvation? For my part, whatever anguish of spirit it may cost, I am willing to know the whole truth; to know the worst, and to provide for it.

I have but one lamp by which my feet are guided, and that is the lamp of experience. I know of no way of judging of the future but by the past. And judging by the past, I wish to know what there has been in the conduct of the British ministry for the last ten years to justify those hopes with which gentlemen have been pleased to solace themselves and the House. Is it that insidious smile with which our petition has been lately received? Trust it not, sir; it will prove a snare to your feet. Suffer not yourselves to be betrayed with a kiss.

Ask yourselves how this gracious reception of our petition comports with those warlike preparations which cover our waters and darken our land. Are fleets and armies necessary to a work of love and reconciliation? Have we shown ourselves so unwilling to be reconciled that force must be called in to win back our love? Let us not deceive ourselves, sir. These are the implements of war and subjugation; the last arguments to which kings resort.

I ask gentlemen, sir, what means this martial array, if its purpose be not to force us to submission? Can gentlemen assign any other possible motive for it? Has Great Britain any enemy, in this quarter of the world, to call for all this accumulation of navies and armies? No, sir, she has none. They are meant for us: they can be meant for no other. They are sent over to bind and rivet upon us those chains which the British ministry have been so long forging.

And what have we to oppose to them? Shall we try argument? Sir, we have been trying that for the last ten years. Have we anything new to offer upon the subject? Nothing. We have held the subject up in every light of which it is capable; but it has been all in vain. Shall we resort to entreaty and humble supplication? What terms shall we find which have not been already exhausted? Let us not, I beseech you, sir, deceive ourselves longer.

Sir, we have done everything that could be done to avert the storm which is now coming on. We have petitioned; we have remonstrated; we have supplicated; we have prostrated ourselves before the throne, and have implored its interposition to arrest the tyrannical hands of the ministry and Parliament. Our petitions have been slighted; our remonstrances have produced additional violence and insult; our supplications have been disregarded; and we have been spurned, with contempt, from the foot of the throne!

In vain, after these things, may we indulge the fond hope of peace and reconciliation. There is no longer any room for hope. If we wish to be free—if we mean to preserve inviolate those inestimable privileges for which we have been so long contending—if we mean not basely to abandon the noble struggle in which we have been so long engaged, and which we have pledged ourselves never to abandon until the glorious object of our contest shall be obtained—we must fight! I repeat it, sir, we must fight! An appeal to arms and to the God of hosts is all that is left us!

They tell us, sir, that we are weak; unable to cope with so formidable an adversary. But when shall we be stronger? Will it be the next week, or the next year? Will it be when we are totally disarmed, and when a British guard shall be stationed in every house? Shall we gather strength by irresolution and inaction? Shall we acquire the means of effectual resistance by lying supinely on our backs and hugging the delusive phantom of hope, until our enemies shall have bound us hand and foot?

Sir, we are not weak if we make a proper use of those means which the God of nature hath placed in our power. Three millions of people, armed in the holy cause of liberty, and in such a country as that which we possess, are invincible by any force which our enemy can send against us.

Besides, sir, we shall not fight our battles alone. There is a just God who presides over the destinies of nations, and who will raise up friends to fight our battles for us. The battle, sir, is not to the strong alone; it is to the vigilant, the active, the brave. Besides, sir, we have no election. If we were base enough to desire it, it is now too late to retire from the contest. There is no retreat but in submission and slavery! Our chains are forged! Their clanking may be heard on the plains of Boston! The war is inevitable—and let it come! I repeat it, sir, let it come.

It is in vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen may cry, peace, peace—but there is no peace. The war is actually begun! The next gale that sweeps from the north will bring to our ears the clash of resounding arms! Our brethren are already in the field! Why stand we here idle? What is it that gentlemen wish? What would they have? Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery?

Forbid it, Almighty God! I know not what course others may take; but as for me, give me liberty or give me death!

One of the greatest, most electrifying speeches ever to pass o’er the lips of Mortal Man, and forever worth another read. If the above words don’t stir you to the very deepest depths of your soul, you ain’t no kind of American my eyes can recognize as such.

3

1

8

2

1

8

1

Error happened.