Last Sunday, I was rocking a disgruntled child and flipping through the channels. I stopped on the Food Network and the lovely Giada De Laurentiis. She was making some sort of Brussels sprout hors d’oeuvre thing that looked great, but I would probably shy away from it. That is, if I attended parties where they serve Brussels sprout hors d’oeuvres in the first place. My wife walked in and asked, “What’s she making?” I told her I didn’t know, “I just think she’s pretty.” She then informed me, “She spits it out, you know.” The thought had actually never occurred to me, but obviously she spits out what she makes on the show. You can’t look like Giada and cook with butter and cream for a living. I then went ahead and changed the channel. My suspension of disbelief had been broken on the Giada front, so it was time to move on to something else. The thought of wasted food stuck with me for a couple of days though since it’s the holidays.
Socialists are always opining that being born in the U.S. is the same as winning life’s lottery. They want to take your money and share it with the poor and hungry of the world. You’re too stingy to do it on your own, so it’s better to let them take the money through their D.C. holding company and distribute it fairly. They seek utopia, and if only more of us would cooperate, they could easily achieve it. They’ve been fighting a war on poverty since the 60’s. Redistributing trillions hasn’t stopped the problem though. We clearly haven’t done enough. This leads back to the lottery that we’ve all won by being born here. Silly socialists; tricks are for kids! Our winning the lottery of life is not some cosmic accident, but a matter of risk and reward. Some ancestor in a citizen’s past had to take a risk to secure the blessing of liberty for us, their posterity. Some arrived here indentured servants; some arrived as slaves, others just as dirt-poor immigrants. Still others arrived well off and comfortable, but had to take risks all the same. It’s not a matter of chance, but choice. Someone chose to get on the boat and bring us to the land of the free, making freedom our birthright.
Today, the debate over immigration rages. Like most debates in politics, it is based on a false premise. It’s not immigrants people protest to, but instead it is socialism. Before the income tax and wealth redistribution that have taken hold over the last 100 years there was no need to care who was coming into the country. It was a level playing field where the newcomers operated by the same rules as the natives. Now we care because there are already a large percentage of natives abusing the system. The last thing many people want is to see millions more take advantage of the welfare state to which we already vehemently protest. For most it has nothing to do with color or creed, just economics. Security issues aside, illegal immigration is a hot button issue not because of race, but because of money; same as most other hot-button issues. Putting it in that light, a good socialist will turn to the desperation the newcomers are fleeing. The oppressed, starving people of the world are looking for help. How can we deny them? This brings me back to Giada. We have lost the moral high ground to counter that argument. Over the last century, we have become a spoiled, wasteful, belligerent nation. This land flowing with milk and honey has made us soft. When faced with the starving masses, many succumb to the socialist argument that we are a mean-spirited nation. We succumb because of our guilt. Not acknowledging what is precious, and not appreciating our abundance has led us to acquiesce to many a false premise. We allow our leaders to take more and more of what we make each year instead of fighting the expansion of creeping socialism. They in turn waste the fruits of our labors, like the half masticated Brussels sprouts in Giada’s spittoon. This year, as we enjoy the holidays with the world on fire around us, it would be prudent to remember what is precious. Thank the heavens for those that placed you in this land of so many resources, and shake your fist at those who would threaten to take that away from our posterity. There are war drums in the distance. Win or lose, be sure you have the high ground on your side.