Could Be … President Underwood

Disney promoting homosexuality (perhaps even bestiality?) in Beauty and the Beast. Maybe. The film’s director, William Condon, says he wants to rip pages out of the Holy Bible. Well, could be it’s more complex than that … or could be it isn’t.

Last year’s Hollywood epic Miss Sloane, starring Jessica Chastain as a tough feminist lobbyist, was designed by Jonathan Perea, a British writer (the Formerly Great Britain, where the most popular boy’s name is “Mohammad”), to take away your firearms (handguns, rifles, shotguns, BB guns, doesn’t matter) and make a lot of money in the process. Studio exec Harvey Weinstein said he was looking for a film that would make the NRA — and, by extension, you and I and the USCCA — “wish they weren’t alive after I’m done with them.”

If it seems that a brain cancer has grown in America — co-opted the media, entertainment and educational institutions to undermine our core values and realign the future with an Internationalist a-sexual, a-moral, Islamic perspective — you probably are, in the words of Jeff Foxworthy, a conspiracy nut … or could be you aren’t. Could be you’re just paying attention.

Maybe conspiracy nuts see a world as it is rather than a world as they wish it to be. When the ultra-rich — New York’s Michael Bloomberg (worth $46.5B) or Hollywood’s Harvey Weinstein (worth a mere $150M) — pick a fight in order to move the nation, the world, toward their vision and away from ours, be sure that what they actually want — not what they say in public — is money pouring out of our pockets and into theirs. They don’t give a tinker’s damn about us or the people they supposedly advocate for; it’s only about money, influence, power.

I’m so tired of rich, celebrity bloviators pontificating about right-and-wrong and good-and-bad that I have turned off popular entertainment entirely … or nearly.

I no longer buy music from living artists (although Yo-Yo Ma and the Silk Road Ensemble produce haunting and exotically exquisite music) and refuse to attend a movie unless Gary Sinise, Jon Voight, Clint Eastwood or Willie Robertson are cast members.

So in the evenings, when work is done, I pour a martini and read a book or watch the Sandia Mountains turn watermelon red … or visit with neighbors. I’ve practically abandoned popular television, even or especially news and sports, but occasionally I watch a series on Netflix.

I’ve enjoyed the fine acting of Kevin Spacey (Fowler) in movies since The Usual Suspects. Thus I’ve watched all four seasons of his Netflix series House of Cards; he is the President of the U.S. and Robin Wright is First Lady. They play Francis and Claire Underwood, an Orwellian couple as devious as Lord and Lady Macbeth, capable of anything from simple back-stabbing to murder. In this sense, I’m reminded of Bill and Hillary Clinton, because one of the Underwood’s agenda items is attacking the NRA and implementing drastic gun control legislation. In the Netflix movie as in real life, the legislative effort fails, but it nevertheless is part of the erosion, the continuous drip of left-wing propaganda.

And that is all quite odd, because Spacey is a giant Clinton supporter. Further, this Netflix series which he produces involves — I could say undermines — every value that I hold vital to our society. Bestiality is not a part of the script yet, but I expect that it is coming in future episodes.

So maybe I’ll read more. Moby Dick would take up some quality time or A Tale of Two Cities or War and Peace. Maybe I’ll pull out the boss’s book — Tim Schmidt’s Guns, Freedom and the American Dream or one of my favorites, Donald Trump’s The Art of the Deal. Take that President Underwood … and Lady Macbeth.

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