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Commies & Homos, 1972. - Comments (0)

Printer Friendly Category: Articles,My Life
Author: John Malone
Date: 19th February, 2014 @ 03:07:12 PM

Interestingly yesterday, as I listened to my friend (and brother) Chris Baker on his “Big Show” afternoon Omaha radio talk show, I heard a caller who was brainwashed about the recent past. Never has the old saw, “history is written by the winners,” ever become more clear to me than when it happens about the times I have lived.

You see, in a very real way, while the rock bands played, and while people still were coming late to the 1960’s, I was left of Karl Marx. I laughed at the National Lampoon edition that featured hippies smoking weed and thought bubbling, “Marx was no communist, I’m a REAL communist.” (In fact, I spent an entire day with PJ O’Rourke – today a conservative writer, and still a funny guy – when he was in his heyday at the National Lampoon: that’s another story for another day.)

Perhaps you know the Karl (not Groucho) Marx story. The oppressed worker lives in a valley. Every day he trudges up left hill on his right to go to work, where he is oppressed. Every Sunday he trudges up the hill on his left to go to church, where he is told to trudge along, because things will be better in the by-and-by. Pie in the sky.

I studied the dismal science. I learned it. Chris’ caller forgot that Marxism has never happened, but that Communism took its place. And then Stalinism took its place. And that was all BEFORE my generation. As was Hitler. Stalinism struck on the “dictatorship of the proletariat” phase. You know, the temporary phase until the masses can be re-educated in the FEMA camps? Hitler was a socialist. People tend to forget that when they so willingly vote Republican. As did Herod and Pilot, Latter Day Stalinists and Hitlerians became fast friends. Christians should be wary of the “leaven of Herod.”

I have witnessed the politics of the past 40+ years. You see, in a certain way I dropped out, went to the political sidelines, and conducted myself more prudently than I used to, and have been called to preach. Yet I have observed, and occasionally engaged.

The commies are in power now. Here. As are the homos. Get used to it I think. It’s going to get worse.

It was 1972 when I saw the Civil Rights Movement oddly and illogically morph into the Homo Movement.

I was 21-years-old, and ascending in the world of student politics. I was attending the National Student Association Convention, and became deeply involved as an operative in a winning campaign to lead that formerly-CIA-financed radical student organization.

To my surprise, the organization was very heavily influenced and led by people closer to age 30 than 20. One of the key influencers of that organization at that time was Jack Baker (age 30), student president at the University of Minnesota, and perhaps the most radical homosexual in the country. While I was unabashedly pro Civil Rights in the context of racial discrimination, I could not – and still cannot not – bring myself to the equation of a homosexual behavior with racial inheritance.

As it turned out, despite winning that election electorally, we lost it when our candidate was punched in the face, and a voice vote then overrode the election. In that day – 1972 mind you – “student leaders” were competing with one another to proclaim how anti-communist they WEREN’T. I recall Margery Tabankin distinctly pleading with us at the plenary session to believe her when she said she was never anti-communist. While her rhetoric at the time didn’t disturb me at all, it should have.

In attendance as honored guests at that convention were Tom Hayden and Jane Fonda, and Senator Edward Kennedy, among others.

At least from that time, the student movement in the United States was totally pro-communist, and largely also pro-homosexuality. Before that experience, I thought “communist” and “marxist” was a persuasion. I had never met any committed communist party members prior to that time. At that time, meeting some, I realized how committed and dedicated to the revision of the USA these people were. Any real student was a mere spectator at that convention. The players were all older, and they were on a mission, and they were funded.

In fact, Tabankin went on from there to become someone who could find tax money to support left wing causes. That was her early career. Later, until now, she has gone about raising private and public funds to continue the agenda I saw emerging way back there in the Nixon Administration: commies and homos.

That was my early education in the politics of today. I went home in the summer of 1972 disillusioned and depressed about the politics of my generation. From that time forward, I saw politics in the United States become more and more about homosexual sex. And more and more authoritarian, anarchist, godless, and Nazi-like.

At about this same time, I became pretty worried about the GroupThink and mass mentality of my peers. I attended very few concerts in my life, and the reason for this is that I did not care for the mass behaviors I saw taking place in crowds. It was so engineered!

Maybe it was the writings of Gunter Grass (The Tin Drum), Alexander¬†Solzhenitsyn (The Gulag Archipelago, One¬†Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich), and Albert Speer’s contemporary work (Inside the Third Reich), that made me wary. I was no cold warrior, for sure, and had no fear of Russian military aggression against our country, but I really did fear the direction I saw my peers taking. In a way, I suppose I saw myself as the Grass’ “tin drummer,” prepared to beat a counter-rhythm to the Nazi-like beats all about me.

But in the summer of ’72, my depression deepened as my altruistic belief in enlightened politics crashed hard on the understanding that anarchy and homosexuality were creeping into my then-“paragon of righteousness”, the American civil rights movement. It seemed inevitable that movement would get hijacked. In fact, it was inevitable.

I was barely 21 years old, had already twice been the Editor-In-Chief of the campus newspaper, and probably switched majors 4-5 times. I had lost my girl friend, and I didn’t care. Even baseball wasn’t fun. The then-greatest Husker teams ever weren’t playing anymore, and a guy I played baseball against was going to win a Heisman trophy, even after knocking off a gas station. I played a mean game of bridge.

I realized I was on a wrong track somewhere. I also realize I found the right track.

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