One by one the progressive mayors and college presidents across the south have been chipping away at not only our heritage, but the honor of fallen heroes, many of who died in the great 'War for Southern Independence'. Actually those who would tear down these Confederate Monuments could care less about the statues themselves. It's not about these pieces of stone and bronze stained by the years. It's a power struggle between progressives and conservatives. I thought this was settled, a least for a short while with the election of Donald Trump. I was wrong, and now I fear we are on the losing side once again. Some of us are fighting back. The purpose of this blog is to inform you there is hope. We are attempting to raise funds to erect plaques honoring our fallen Confederate boys in gray. Plaques that will grace the town squares of small towns in the South where they will be welcome. Towns where the voters still have some common sense, unlike those idiots in the large cities and those poor lost young people in our universities. All denotations will be appreciated with the lion's share going to preserve the memory of those who fought and died in that great conflict.

Wednesday, January 6, 2010

The Knock at the Door

He is waiting, waiting for the knock at the door. While all around him he feels a warmth, a feeling of security, a sense of being and the closeness of belonging. And yet he knows there is more, more than this so he waits patiently for the knock at the door. Sounds, not to distant flood his world and he feels the outside through the inner darkness. A gentle softness flows over him and lulls him to sleep and he dreams, dreams of the knock at the door. Suddenly he wakes, wakes to the knock at the door. And in an instant the door is shattered and the warmth that surrounds him flows away and a alien claw grips him and the pain pierces his very being as he is pulled from his shelter world. A brief blinding light flashes only for moment before a cold dark eternity settles over him.

Doctor A. Borson looks over the sheet at the young woman lying on his table and smiles as he says, "now that wasn't all that bad was it". She manages a slight smile and in a subdued voice says, "no". The doctor removes his bloody gloves as he stands and turns to the nurse asking, "how many more do we have today"? She replies, "four". "Good" he says as he walks out the door. The nurse then reaches to the pan on the floor and picks it up while placing her foot at the base of the container marked "Hazard: Medical Waste", pushing the small black pedal down the white top opens and she dumps in the lifeless mass of bone and tissue.

Just another day in the clinic. Just another day in the progressive world of modern day America. Just another baby thrown on the trash pile of a liberal ideology, one who will never know the love on the other side of that door. And in the waiting room of Dr A. Borson four more unsuspecting victims are waiting, waiting for "The Knock at the Door"!

by Ron Russell
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