More Thoughts On Conspiracy

Why were the accusations about President Bush’s National Guard Service accepted as true yet the Zarqawi memos and letters disdained immediately by the left?  I’ve been giving this a little more thought and have concluded that, like children waiting for Santa Claus, the ultra-libs are simply too immature to understand grown up life.  Even if they are 50, 60, or like my parents 80, they either maintain or revert to a naiveté that is wonderful.

A woman must have the right to an abortion, but no murderers can be killed by a legal death sentence.  So called reproductive rights is merely another term for irresponsibility.  Personally I don’t think we should execute convicted criminals; it coarsens society and is too easy on the murderers.  There is also the possibility of innocence being punished instead of the guilty.  A random act of sexual intercourse should also not condemn a life to death.

Conspiracy fetish believers are just that, low intellectual powers, easily led, obsessed and stimulated by fancies that make them feel somehow important because they are in possession of the “real” story.  The Zarqawi memos should be assumed to be genuine if only because of the circumstances of his death.  Clearly when a leader’s own people turn on him things can’t be going too well.  The mainstream Democrats are another story.  They don’t care if the memos are real or not; their very existence threatens the Democrats chance to regain power in the congress and the White House.  These people care nothing for their fellow citizens and are as close to communists as you can get.  When they do return to power, as they will eventually, Hugo Chavez will most likely be the first State visitor.

The proof that the liberals are really illiberal may be inferred by their love of Castro, Chavez, and Fox. Each of these leaders imprisons, without trial, any dissenters.  This, of course, is what Michael Moore, Nancy Pelosi, Harry Reid, Barbara Streisand, and the rest would like to do to those who disagree with them.