May God forgive these "Confederate?" Museum enemies of truth for I never will! --Unless somehow I learn they confessed their sins and begged God for redemption because they see the light and acknowledge that THE SOUTH WAS RIGHT!
The members of all Confederate organizations that fail to burn in effigy Sherman and the Museum Trustees (who sold this idea in the first place) are traitors in the fight for the retelling of Confederate and American truths! Because our Confederate organizations are all such LOYAL Southerners—so utterly determined to publicize our Southern truths, I know we can expect to see Southern skies soon bright with Southern fires! (Yeah, sure!)
What kind of monsters are people who become so enamored with Sherman? How can intelligent folks worship a mass murderer? How can they justify the actions of man who kidnapped thousands of helpless women and children in Georgia and shipped many of them as far away as Chicago (those who survived) where they were sold as white slaves? -- Never to find their homes and loved ones again. How can they adore a man who puts so many of the right out of the Communist Manifesto planks into actual being? How can they honor a Yankee monster whose Radical Republican Senator brother voted to torture helpless Confederate soldier boys held in Yankee prisons?
This Sherman, this megalomaniac, whose burnings of homes in cities and countryside where not a single Confederate soldier was! Sherman was the man who forced into death by exposure and/or starvation thousands of women and children of both races. Sherman was a man whose bombing of cities (unmanned by a single Confederate soldier) left the streets full of dead women =-=some with babies at their breasts. Sherman was a sadistic, atheistic monster whose actions are now heralded by people who vote him "wonderful." They know he set the pattern for all the real horrors of war against civilians the United States has participated in since the time of those illegal, treasonous invasions of legally seceded Southern states by a Marxist controlled U.S. government.
If the voters at this museum are Southerners, we must now declare them all traitors. for they are enemies of truth. With their actions and words they have insulted and defiled the names of their Southern ancestors.
If all who claim to love their Southern family members, their Confederates, are not offended by this latest exhibition of hate by those folks who voted Sherman, Man of the Year, as a direct insult to our ancestors and to us and to TRUTH ITSELF, then let these the Cowards in the Fight, wind up in China—for they belong there right along with the insulting Museum voters.
As for me I'm making me a little straw Sherman and will gather about me a few friends with sense. We will see Mr. Sherman go where he belongs---up in smoke. The date of that happening will be March 4th, 2014. Had I the names of the Museum voters, I'd add little slips of papers containing those names to the pretty fire.
Yes, my cup runneth over---with anger at the enemies of truth. They have become, by their actions and their stupidity, my enemies.
Alas, I know not their names and I am unable to visit their museum. Oh if only I could—and stand before it with my father's flag.
Alas, I know not their names and I am unable to visit their museum. Oh if only I could—and stand before it with my father's flag.
No Enemies
By Charles Mackay
(English Chartist poet, 1814–1889)
YOU have no enemies, you say?
Alas! my friend, the boast is poor;
He who has mingled in the fray
Of duty, that the brave endure,
Must have made foes! If you have none,
Small is the work that you have done.
You've hit no traitor on the hip,
You've dashed no cup from perjured lip,
You've never turned the wrong to right,
You've been a coward in the fight.
WISDOM
By Joan Hough
(Unreconstructed Confederate Defendant & Proud of it)
Finding the pathway to truth narrow,
Lined with the sharpest of knives,
And with plants exuding the most noxious of fumes,
We, sensibly protect our fragile skins
And spare our olfactory sense
By following the wider path that lies
Just a bit to the left.
Lined with the sharpest of knives,
And with plants exuding the most noxious of fumes,
We, sensibly protect our fragile skins
And spare our olfactory sense
By following the wider path that lies
Just a bit to the left.
Lined with soft maiden hair and heaven-scented jasmine,
It surely will take us to the self-same destination,
We, with great wisdom, conclude,
Then later, are horrified to discover
Ourselves imprisoned somewhere in China.
It surely will take us to the self-same destination,
We, with great wisdom, conclude,
Then later, are horrified to discover
Ourselves imprisoned somewhere in China.
