Saturday, May 28, 2005

"Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"


Samizdata is a well written European based libertarian blog. I enjoy dropping by and reading it daily, and sometimes I find a great eye opening post. This was on of those days.

In New Hampshire a group of people are trying to push a true "small government" program through political actions, up to their own arrests if the need arises. They moved there from all across the country bringing their families and leaving their jobs. A mini exodus to try to build a better government in one small corner of the country. The Free Staters have already started small and deserve your respect, even if you don't agree. How many in this country are willing to put it all on the line?

So with New Hampshire filling with freestaters Samizdata asked openly about Europeans leaving for America for the freedom we enjoy. Maybe it was tongue in cheek, but the reality may not be so humorous
So what will it take to snap people back to reality? Or is it just too damn late for that and the only thing left is to get the hell out and leave the lunatics in change of the asylum?

Maybe that is exactly what the US needs too, an influx of liberty seeking (or at least sanity seeking) folks from Europe who have seen the reality of what happened to a culture when it allows all the things the Democrats (and quite a few big-state Republicans) want to do in the USA. Who knows, if enough of them get citizenship they might be around in time to help make sure that Hillary only gets one term in office. Shudder.
So are we going to see another Ellis Island opening for freedom loving people leaving behind the bureaucracy of Europe? Leaving behind the whole social machine that is made to create subjects, not citizens.

While I quoted the part of the poem written on the Statue of Liberty I will end with the entire poem.
The New Colossus

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
"Keep ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she
With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"

No comments:

To damn lazy

I'm a solid firearms enthusiast. I can't afford to be a proper gun nut, but I can hope. The news is filled with a solid effort to ...