The Morning After

On the dawn of the morning after the unprotected and the undesirables started to take back our Nation from the sacred cows of the political class, I was unable to sleep.

I came to loath the power and veracity of the Fourth Estate the first year I could vote. I spent a Saturday liberty afternoon attending a Goldwater event in San Diego. When I returned to the ship and watched the evening news, I was appalled to see how bits of his speech had been clipped and spliced out of context. It made him appear to be a raving maniac.

I have been a skeptic since that day, wary of the power of entrenched politicians and the mainstream media. I supported Trump from day one, but I knew the powers that be would never let him succeed. He didn't stand a chance against the power of the professional politicians of both parties, Wall Street, and the mainstream media. I did know that the power of the printed press was dying, and that the alternate media spawned by the power of the internet was growing, but I thought it would not be able to make a difference.

Early this morning, my tears flowed, as I watched this great man make his acceptance speech. The American people, those of us, mostly in flyover country, have spoken to the “elite”, and said it's time to drain the swamp. I'm thankful that the fears I've carried for my grandchildren have been reduced.