I come from a small and very strange country. No, seriously.
It is a point of pride that the national poet for the ages — Luís de Camões for those who haven’t made an hobby of Portuguese history, and really, why would you — died as the Spaniards were taking over the throne of Portugal (during one of those bizarre disputes you can only understand if you view the royal families of Europe as a small and incredibly inbred tribe of people, swept off the streets of London in the seventeenth century, dropped into a holler in the Appalachia mountains, and they’ve never left since. Everyone marries their cousins, and everyone fights mightily over a limited number of chairs…. er …thrones.) Anyway, as the Spaniards took over and officially Portugal stopped existing, Camões is said to have declared, “The homeland dies, and I die with it.”
Ahem. Go look at a world map. I’ll wait. Okay. I presume your map is not from the 1600s. And yet, if you look, Portugal is in fact in it.
That is because the worst thing possible evah! occurred, and yet…. it wasn’t the end. Eventually (in about sixty years) the Spanish vice-roi was defenestrated, a bastard son of the last Portuguese king was called to the throne and with the help of England (he married Phillipa of Lancaster) Portugal was back, baby.
In fact, its biggest days were ahead. I was making some ridiculous joke about Portugal to my son and he said “mom. Portugal was one of two countries that divided the world in two. Kind of the original superpower. Mom. You can’t really make fun of that.”
Well, actually I can, because imagine what they could have done if everyone weren’t a squirrel with ADHD? But (ducks, bobs and weaves, avoiding the three Portuguese who read this blog regularly) the point is, the poet who wrote the verse-history of the country to that time, thought it was all over.
In fact, its golden days were yet to come.
We are, and no mistake, having to put up with a lot of nonsense. And it does remind me of the “Spanish Interregnum” in that they purposely set about to give away, destroy and despoil everything that made Portugal powerful.
But it didn’t work. Because invaders, whether foreign or internal, corrupted Marxists, don’t understand that which they’re trying to destroy.
Which means all of their efforts end up coming up …. thwarted.
Look guys, and I say this conscious of a long line of ancestors saying “That’s impossible” but these guys? They’re worse than the Spaniards. At least the Spaniards had enough competency to pick up the other half of the world.
These guys? they got nothing.
They are unable to understand anything that is not them. They keep trying to do the things they think we’re doing, and trying to attack us by taking out “leaders” on the assumption we are their mirror image.
They don’t understand us. And the sheer Americanness of us keeps sucker punching them, every time they turn around.
Can they still do a lot of damage? Sure. Of course they can. But in the end?
We might be beaten, have a bloody lip, and a black eye, but we’re going to win this.
Let the death cult of the left embrace death.
Our best days are ahead of us.
I bet you we’re going to the stars.