Posted on TFL by Microbalrog (July 4th article)

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Oleg Volk

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A Letter to the Americans

by Boris Karpa

I am not an American. Yet, when it’s Fourth of July, I cannot but wish I were one. This short letter is my expression of thanks to the Americans for what the world owes them._Now, of course we owe America lots of things – from the Land Lease, to the 1973 air-lifts to Israel, to such small things as technical innovations like the airplane or the Internet. But this letter is not about economics, the politics, or technological progress. This is about the single most precious thing Americans are continously giving to the world: FREEDOM.

Yes, technically, Brits imported it into America with the Colonists, but America was the first country ever that was founded on the concept of Freedom. The first country ever, on the face on the Earth, whose very foundation, basis, and lifeblood, is the belief that all people “are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rightsâ€. Nowhere else on the planet did a nation put that in their founding documents.

The Americans are the ones that created and exported the notion that people are born free. That is the difference between America, and, say, the EU. The Americans believe it’s wrong to violate freedom of speech. Just plain wrong. Immoral. According to the very documents upon which America rests, you are born with the right to free speech. Nobody can take it away and stay withing moral boundary’s. According to the European government, taking your speech away is OK, you just need a “justificationâ€.

This belief is what differentiates Americans from the Europeans. That is why the Americans, time and time again, fight for freedom. It is in memory of that the French – not the French government – gave the Americans the Statue of Liberty. And it is in remembrance of the principle of liberty – that people are born free, that life and liberty are yours and nobody can take them way – that the torch burns.

That torch is lit with the same fire that lit the gunpowder in the Rebel’s rifles at Lexington and Concord. It is the same fire that burned in the hearts of MLK as he marched to Washington. When the Jews at Warsaw lit Molotov’s cocktails to throw at the Germans, I’m sure they were lighting them with Liberty’s Torch too. When the Jews had to bring food through Shaar-HaGay to Jerusalem, firing Thompsons through the truck windows, I’m sure it’s the fire of Liberty that lit the gunpowder in the cartridges and blazed out of the flash suppressors.

The fire of Liberty – the power of the independent mind – is what took the Wright Brother’s off theground and what put Bill Gates online. It was that fire that burned in the hearts of the Marines at Iwo Jima and the rebels at Fort Henry. From Athens, Tenessee to the launch sites in the Mojave desert, that fire is what burn in the American motor. It is what keeps America going. And that is why I hope, one day, to be an American.

There is one birthday wish I would like, however, to make for the Americans this Fourth of July – on behalf of all those, who, like me, can only look at Lady Liberty’s torch with hope that, one day, they will, too, be free. Americans, please keep that fire on for us.

(c)2004 Boris Karpa
 
Americans, please keep that fire on for us.
I'm afraid we're not doing that. We are becoming complacent, we are happy with our jobs, weekend BBQ and beer, while freedom is being pulled out from under us.

Oleg and Microbalrog, we are going in the same direction your mother countries went, we are just fooling ourselves about our direction. The revolution is coming. There is no other alternative.
 
"According to the very documents upon which America rests, you are born with the right to free speech. Nobody can take it away and stay withing moral boundary’s. According to the European government, taking your speech away is OK, you just need a “justificationâ€.

Unless of course its within 90 days of a general election
:fire:

So says all 3 branches of government :cuss:
 
Not autobiographical but I wish it was. I wrote the little piece below for a book I'm writing. Seems appropriate for a day like this.


On the Fourth of July,

When I read the Declaration of Independence I get a contraction in my chest. Pain and pressure. It goes right down the middle of me.
It is more than just a declaration of independence. It is also a declaration of war and once the signers signed it, it became their death warrant.

The Fourth of July as a national holiday is now as meaningless and usurped as Christmas and Easter.

Lady Liberty, being blindfolded, never saw it coming. And you know what? It’s my fault. What did I do to stop it? What did I do? Not much. Not enough. I have written letters, faxes and emails. I have marched. I have been maced and beaten with clubs. And I have watched a long train of abuses and usurpations by our own government pursuing the object of subjecting the world to what Thomas Jefferson called absolute Despotism.

The tyranny Jefferson and the other founders pledged their lives, fortunes and sacred honors to be free of was an absolute paradise of liberty compared to the Total Information Awareness now imposed by our federal masters that hold themselves sovereign over all.

When I read the Declaration of Independence, I am moved. I am inspired. I am ashamed, and most of all I am accused. What have I done to deserve the legacy left me?

I believe the Rights we all have, just by being born, not just in America but everywhere are truly unalienable. Meaning not able to be separated from us. We cannot give them up. They cannot be voted away, they cannot be taken. Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness.

What is life? That’s a discussion for another time. The pursuit of Happiness, to the extent it interferes not with another’s unalieneable rights ought to be whatever it is.

I’m only twenty-three years old. What do I know?

That’s not a lot of time to have been pursuing Happiness but I know what makes me happy and I think its obvious that the pursuit is a right. Happiness is up to us, individually. You can’t give it to me nor vice versa. Another topic I’d love to discuss at length someday.

But Liberty, I know something about that. Liberty is not freedom.

I love my dad very much. He’s dead now but he’s still with me in my heart. He explained to me the difference between the two when I was seven years old. I will always love his explanation of the difference between Liberty and Freedom.
He said, “Freedom is the ability to take action. Liberty is the absence of prohibition of taking action.â€

See, until I was seven years old, my bedtime was eight thirty. Even on the weekends, even in the summer when it’s not really dark until ten o’clock, I had to go to bed at eight thirty. One night I just decided, screw that. I was gonna stay up, even if just in my room, reading with a flashlight. The next morning I was really sleepy from staying up late and we were talking about how he couldn’t make me go to sleep at night. I guess I was a bit of a rebel even as a second grader. He said, “Well son, that’s freedom. You are free to make that choice. But it is against the rules, and there are consequences.â€

“What are consequences?†I asked, slipping perfectly into his trap. My dad was pretty smart.

“Consequences are what you get, whether you get what you wanted, or not.†That was a bit deep for me I guess. “It’s like the price you pay for getting the thing you want.†He continued. “You know how you wanted a compass with tritium in it like mine, even when you learned you would need to save your allowance for eleven months to buy one?â€

It was a bad ass compass. I still have it.

“That’s the price you must pay for that compass. And the price you pay for ignoring your bedtime and staying up late is getting up feeling like this.â€

I was hip to his game.

“So why can’t I just go to bed when I’m sleepy and wake up when I wake up?â€

There you have it. At age seven, I had already figured out The Dream.

I was down with the pursuit of Happiness, even as a kid.

Ah, That’s different. That would be Liberty.â€

“Like on money?â€

No, Son. Freedom is like staying up past your bedtime. It has a cost. Liberty is having no bed time.â€

“So liberty is not free?â€

I will remember what he said for the rest of my life. He said, “No son, Liberty is priceless.â€

I said, “Dad, freedom is great. I like staying up late. But what I really want is liberty.â€

That was the first time I ever saw my dad cry. He said they were happy tears. Maybe they were. I’d like to think so. He held me and kissed me and told me he loved me and promised me that for as long as he lived, I would no longer have a bedtime.
If, that is, I would agree to always wake up the first time I was told, as that was the responsibility that was the true cost of liberty. I promised I would. We both kept our word.

Dad died five years ago, on the fourth of July.
 
Kid, I'm impressed. Reminds me of my "propaganda" piece that I ghost wrote for my older brother's paper on the bicentennial.
 
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