Some folks (including my own daughter) say that's just a diversion—hey, look at this shiny yellow thing!—and that I should keep my attention focused on Beijing Biden and his scum-sucking, belly-crawling low-lives—so low that worms look down on them—trying to steal this election and our country for George Soros and the Chinese communists.

It's entirely possible that folks are right, although there's damned little I can do about the political situation. I write at least one essay every week, as vitriolic as I can make it. I've just learned that some vandals have let the wonderful Arecibo radio telescope collapse and the world needs to know—and revile—their names. I'm helping to make FOX go bankrupt by not turning the bastards on, even Tucker Carlson and Mark Levin. Donald Trump is my guy and Ol' Joe Stumble-tongue will never be the President of anything except the catbox.

However I keep having this vision, especially when I'm about to fall asleep at night. It's the Fifteenth century. Two Indian warriors are standing on a bluff, overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. They're from different tribes and they're fighting, hammer and nails, tooth and claw, spear and tomahawk, over some non-trivial matter when they look up—and there are tall white sails on the horizon. That didn't seem to change their perspective. Should we let it change ours?

This stolen election business is about as far from trivial as it can get. If we Americans allow Democrats to get away with it, then the same thugs our fathers and grandfathers fought and died and killed to stop, in Germany, in Korea, in Vietnam, and in the Middle East will win the world and you and I get to take orders from the commissars for the rest of our lives, which will be nasty, brutish, and short—if we're lucky. As Amnesty International famously said, socialist governments are killing machines. And the Democrats' infatuation with slavery never seems to have worn off.