Beck's book and the liberal reaction

Glenn Beck just released his new thriller The Overton Window. I have not read it yet, but will eventually.

When I heard that the poem in the trailer was a Kipling poem, I went out searching for it, interested in reading the entire thing. The first place I found the poem was on some liberal blog site.

Now, occasionally I go over to the Huffington Post or listen to America Left just to see what the other side is saying. 99% of the time, I leave those places with a more solid belief in my own views. The left's arguments defy the laws of common sense and economics. I think that the people (or as Lenin called them, the useful idiots) who actually believe this stuff refuse to or are unable to make a connection between A and B, cause and effect, supply and its source.

A blogger myself, I visit a lot of blogs. When I comment, it is because I am trying to add something to the discussion or occasionally just giving the author kudos and a pat on the back. Rarely in all my surfing have I read such mindless, fact-less and foul comments as I found here: http://crooksandliars.com/david-neiwert/glenn-becks-overton-window-ad-try-no

To all my readers, thank you for having brains, manners and for adding something of substance to the dialog.

The Gods of the Copybook Headings

AS I PASS through my incarnations in every age and race,
I make my proper prostrations to the Gods of the Market Place.
Peering through reverent fingers I watch them flourish and fall,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings, I notice, outlast them all.

We were living in trees when they met us. They showed us each in turn
That Water would certainly wet us, as Fire would certainly burn:
But we found them lacking in Uplift, Vision and Breadth of Mind,
So we left them to teach the Gorillas while we followed the March of Mankind.

We moved as the Spirit listed. They never altered their pace,
Being neither cloud nor wind-borne like the Gods of the Market Place,
But they always caught up with our progress, and presently word would come
That a tribe had been wiped off its icefield, or the lights had gone out in Rome.

With the Hopes that our World is built on they were utterly out of touch,
They denied that the Moon was Stilton; they denied she was even Dutch;
They denied that Wishes were Horses; they denied that a Pig had Wings;
So we worshipped the Gods of the Market Who promised these beautiful things.

When the Cambrian measures were forming, They promised perpetual peace.
They swore, if we gave them our weapons, that the wars of the tribes would cease.
But when we disarmed They sold us and delivered us bound to our foe,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: "Stick to the Devil you know."

On the first Feminian Sandstones we were promised the Fuller Life
(Which started by loving our neighbour and ended by loving his wife)
Till our women had no more children and the men lost reason and faith,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: "The Wages of Sin is Death."

In the Carboniferous Epoch we were promised abundance for all,
By robbing selected Peter to pay for collective Paul;
But, though we had plenty of money, there was nothing our money could buy,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: "If you don't work you die."

Then the Gods of the Market tumbled, and their smooth-tongued wizards withdrew
And the hearts of the meanest were humbled and began to believe it was true
That All is not Gold that Glitters, and Two and Two make Four
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings limped up to explain it once more.

As it will be in the future, it was at the birth of Man
There are only four things certain since Social Progress began.
That the Dog returns to his Vomit and the Sow returns to her Mire,
And the burnt Fool's bandaged finger goes wabbling back to the Fire;

And that after this is accomplished, and the brave new world begins
When all men are paid for existing and no man must pay for his sins,
As surely as Water will wet us, as surely as Fire will burn,
The Gods of the Copybook Headings with terror and slaughter return!

There is an interesting analysis of Kipling's poem here.