Sixty Years of Failure
It has been sixty years since the failure and bloody collapse of the last really serious attempt mankind ever made to save Western civilization. Sixty years since the heroic death of Adolf Hitler in the bunker in Berlin. He could have saved himself, but he declined a seat on the last plane out, choosing to perish with the capital he loved.
Watching the cackling victors gathered in Moscow to celebrate, looking like nothing so much as a hangdog pack of jackals gorged on carrion, I was reminded of the Russians and Ukrainians who, in June of 1941, greeted Hitler's tanks with flowers and his army as liberators from the most monstrous human tyranny in history up until that time, that of Josef Stalin. That the last SS men who fell guarding the bunker were from the Charlemagne Division--Frenchmen. For a brief time, our race was temporarily united against its one true common foe. I would have sold my soul to have been born forty years earlier than I was.
The sacrifice of those who died in that war boggles the mind. I will not even attempt to encapsulate it.
Now, tell me again, why none of you can possibly inconvenience yourselves to the degree of packing a moving van and coming to the Northwest?