At Talker Magazine’s convention, WND’s boss himself, Joseph Farah, congratulated me on the number of hits one of my recent columns had drawn. The “Southern” answer to such a lift is, “Boss, it wasn’t my writing or anything good that I did at all. Really, I just lucked into a really hot topic.”

Instead I gave him the Northern answer, which is just “Thanks, Chief!”

Maybe that’s why the North won!

It was the column in which I voiced impatience with all the alarmist warnings I’m getting about the Obama regime plotting to foment public disorder to justify the imposition of martial law and cancellation of the elections, as Obama rules “indefinitely.” Everybody else is saying, “Don’t be complacent. It can happen here.” Sorry. I say I am complacent and it can’t happen here. We drew many thousands of hits beyond normal.

My best argument, based on personal encounters with people with changeable minds, is the one about my colleague in the late 1950s who stumbled into the office one morning too dazed to speak coherently. He’d just walked past the New York Times building on the first day of a citywide newspaper strike and had seen a sign that stated simply, “The New York Times will not publish until further notice.”

“It would have been no greater shock to read, ‘The sun shall not rise tomorrow morning,'” he mumbled through his stupor. You’ve got to multiply the shock of the New York Times not publishing a lot before you get to “The U. S. Elections of 2012 will not be held.”

Have you ever tried to administer therapy to a child who’s afraid of the dark by turning on all the lights to show him there’s nothing to be afraid of? Most often the therapy wears off the instant the lights go out again. I figured, just as the sight of the cross scared Dracula away, these mobs of frightened Americans could be 
calmed by key words like “Wisconsin!” Or, “North Carolina Gay Marriage Defeat!” Or merely by the fact that day after day goes by and there’s no sign of the boxcars, bully-boys and banging on innocent doors in the middle of the night. Shouldn’t something have been shaping up by now if Obama planned a coup?

I impute no virtue of restraint to Obama and his team. I impute great strength and maturity to the United States of America. This just isn’t the right country to jerk around like that. When I beg my angry adversaries to name a date by which, if there’s no sign of anything sinister going on, they’d want to switch their bet to mine, all I get is more anger and a reminder that “That’s what the Jews thought in Germany in 1933.” You want to detail the contrast between a 236-year-old stable American democracy and Germany’s 14-year-old unstable Weimar Republic that put Hitler in power? Don’t waste your book-learning. You gotta know when to fold ’em; know when to run.

I couldn’t read all the comments from readers, but a sampling let me know my confident attitude elicited not just disagreement, but a kind of fury; as though I, personally, were setting America up for an Obama surprise-takeover. How many negative columns I’ve written about Obama would it take to protect me from such invalid viciousness? About the same number of Iron Crosses earned in World War I it would take to keep a German Jew out of the gas chamber. Even infinity wouldn’t help!

Not all who disagreed were nasty. A former student of mine wrote a most interesting take on the matter, claiming I was right that Obama didn’t plan any phony disorder in order to clamp down martial law. Yes, he said, there were plans for American concentration camps and special squads to disarm Americans and imprison them, but that was to prepare for the genuine disorder sure to follow the inevitable currency collapse.

I’m familiar with die-hard holdouts; including the Confederate troops who fled to Cuba after Gen. Robert E. Lee’s surrender in hopes of establishing a 19th century “Taiwan” below Key West from which to plot a “return” to the mainland. I promise you, if Romney wins by a landslide and is peacefully inaugurated, those angry readers will swear this is all part of Obama’s plot!

Psychiatrists tell of the man who believed he had a horse inside him. All psychiatry had failed him: Freudian, Reichian, Adlerian. Finally he went to the pragmatist of the lot, a Behaviorist.

The Behaviorist took a stethoscope-listen and said, “He’s a big one. We’ll have to operate immediately.” He arranged with the hospital to mount a full surgical team who put the man under general anesthesia. He then arranged for a horse dealer to bring a horse up the hospital’s service elevator so that when the patient awoke after his little “nap,” there, indeed, was a large, beautiful black horse standing there.

The psychiatrist bragged, “That was a tough operation but, by golly, we got him and he’ll never bother you again.”

“No, no, no!” the patient bellowed. “That one never bothered me.

“It was the white one!”

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