I'm sickened and terrified. Where are the men? Where are the heroes of old? Where are the type of men like our grandfathers and forefathers, who would have long ago stormed the capitol and strung up every politician, liberal and Jew in the country? Those of you who know history (and that number is also dwindling at a frightening rate thanks to liberal education control), know that there is no way on earth the old inhabitants of this country would have ever allowed things to progress this far. They passed the torch of freedom and the keys to this great nation to us when they passed on, hoping that we would honor the countless sacrifices they made to preserve freedom. Our graveyards are full of endless rows of brave men who gave their very lives to defend from these very bastards, the things we sit back and let them simply take from us without firing a shot. Southern California has its own Arlington Cemetery, where tens of thousands of our nation's heroes are buried in honor. Endless neat rows go off over the horizon, and it takes your breath away to see with your own eyes the great sacrifices that have been made for you and I. Recently I had the opportunity to visit this place of the honored dead, and I was humbled. But as I stood there in the holy silence of that place, a deep sense of shame engulfed me, and I found myself apologizing to all of them for our generation's failure to honor their blood sacrifice. Tears flowed as I explained to them that there were still a good number of us that held the fire of liberty burning in our breasts, but that the majority of Americans had forgotten their duty and were allowing our nation's enemies to destroy our nation and our people...

I told them how I, and my brothers and sisters would gladly give our lives as well to save our people and the freedom they had given us, but that we were too few to do anything but salvage a remnant of this once great nation. I told them how much I loved and honored them, and how my comrades felt the same, and I told them we would never forget them or what they did. In the end I didn't feel any better or get a sense of release, only guilt. I know it's not my fault because I fight our enemies every day of my life. But I can't help feeling guilt for all the brothers and sisters that refuse to join us in our fight. I feel a deep sense of shame..and rage. And as I stood there in the overcast of the day, with head bowed and eyes closed in reverence of these fallen heroes, I imagined all of them suddenly rising up from their graves, dusting the soil off and standing before me at attention, ready and willing to once again do battle with the foes of America. And they would. In my heart I know that if it were possible, the graves would open and they would rise up and strike down America's enemies, regardless of the cost. They have set an example for all of us to follow. An example in blood. And if enough of us were to join forces, the number of patriots that would fall in the coming fight would be few compared to these brave souls, but some would fall regardless. War is never free, or easy or painless. It exists because evil is tenacious. It always refuses to let go until it is killed. That is the nature of evil. You can't reason with it or negotiate with it or trust it. You can only kill it...

But regardless of our numbers when the fighting starts, or whether we win or lose, each of us will have an army of the spirits of those heroes fighting beside us. And if some of us die in the conflict, I can't think of better company. We fight not only for ourselves and our children and their future, we fight for these brave heroes. We honor their sacrifices with every step we take in our fight for freedom. Let the enemy call us what they will. We know the truth..and so do those heroes...