Some things can't be replaced.
Being stuck in Yankeedom for the next week, I have begun to witness the death of the Puritan spirit firsthand. My woman is a descendant of the first Plymouth governor, and before then one of the Pilgrims, likely of very noble stock. I have seen the Yankee drive to replace their own culture with something decrepit and devoid of any true essence. The flags of the homosex and Easterners, the paper cloth meant to protect them from Southerners contaminated with the divine spark of Old Blighty…My father’s fathers were picked men of Boru, my mother’s were kings of Kent, back to Hengist and Horsa, and before then raiders on the borders of Western Civilization. With all of that, we will prevail. We will rebuild, and we will destroy.
This is really poignant. Starbucks parking lots truly suck. Lately, I myself have been focused on processing the horror of the middle class suburban neighborhood and the defilement of mainstreet America by globohomo. Luckily, the local family-owned coffee shop still remains, and it's one of the few places that keep me grounded.
Thank you, Paul.