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Writer's pictureJack LaFountain

The Colonel #103 Taps

“…As we go, this we know, God is nigh.” –Taps


Jack:

“Colonel, we’re retiring you. Time for the old soldier’s home.”

Me clutching my chest and staggering:

“Oh it’s the big one! You hear that, Flora Belle? I’m coming to join you, honey!”

Life is so unfair. Before I fade away, there’s time for one last frontal assault on the massed artillery. We live in perilous times. If you are familiar with St. Paul’s warning to Timothy, you have had a glimpse of the evil we do. Honestly, those perils have existed at all times and our time is no different, except in one very special way. We are in the process of celebrating the removal of any stigma of evil associated with such behavior.

While capable of producing the uncomfortable feelings of guilt and shame so despised by the masses today, objective morality has always been a shield against all manner of evil. It is a safeguard that sets us apart as humans. It is a truth we can hold to against the storms of life.

That truth is being systematically dismantled in favor of subjectivity—My Truth, My Feeling, My Identity. The sad part is that it is not even our own subjectivity, but a set of nebulous ideas handed down by those who suppose themselves superior in intellect, in reasoning, and ergo, in possession of real humanity.

Those in opposition are being dehumanized by political, communication, and economic systems. Ignorance, laziness, and misplaced trust in authority have ever-growing numbers of people buying into the process.

Ironically, those dozing while their liberty, peace, and life slip away call themselves “Woke”. Like bees in an impersonal hive, they are being cozened into mindless service.

It is much more difficult to be free than to be safe; to question is harder than to accept, and to think is harder than to be schooled. Well does the scripture say, “for when they shall say, Peace and safety: then sudden destruction cometh upon them, as travail upon a woman with child; and they shall not escape.”

Americans once knew this and we stood up next to each other to preserve our humanity. Today we’d rather run to our safe zone. Maybe there we will read T.S. Eliot.

“We are the hollow men We are the stuffed men Leaning together Headpiece filled with straw.

This is the way the world ends Not with a bang but a whimper.”


Play the bugle, play it loud, for the Colonel is passing into the darkness.

As we go, this we know, God is nigh.

Sic Semper Tyrannis




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