Quote Boat: Black Lives Matter And All, But Sheesh, Do We Hafta Read About 'Em? Come On Now, Teachers, Admit It, That's Just Not Right, Says 21-Year-Old James O'Keefe, Knowing Better Like Always (Gonna Be A Pattern Here)

Enroll America Director Conspires to Release Private Data for Political Purposes

Published on Nov 20, 2013

Texas Enroll America Communications Lead Chris Tarango conspires to release private data to help a political action committee and admits this type of thing has happened in the past.

To support further investigations, click here to donate to Project Veritas: https://www.projectveritas.com/donate/

Enroll America is a a Sibelius-linked group dedicated to signing people up for Obamacare, conspiring to release private data to help a political action committee.

Sebelius' relationship with Enroll America is under investigation by a government ethics audit and Cause of Action has questioned Enroll America's tax-exempt status, asking the attorney general of Texas to further investigate this matter.

This is the third video in an investigative series into Obamacare fraud. The first two videos exposed Obamacare navigators counseling applicants to lie and cheat the health care system by erroneously reporting income status and health history.

The full, raw video plays immediately following the exposé.

NJO: Title, video and blurb from James O'Keefe's YouTube channel VeritasVisuals. 

Minions / fellow culture warriors involved:

Lawrence B. Jones III

Lawrence Jones

 

James' Myspace: What was that like?

NJO: So on the 13th of June 2013, without any warning, the proprietors of the world's most popular social media platform 2005-2008 went and put its entire existing content to the torch. Great job, wankers.*

I managed to recover a fair bit of James' Myspace by copypasting the remaining cached text in the Google search results. Here's what I got:


James on Myspace
www.myspace.com/29306000‎

James's profile on Myspace, the leading social entertainment destination powered by the passion of our fans.

Details. Status: Single; Hometown: Westwood; Orientation: Straight; Religion: Catholic; Zodiac Sign: Cancer; Children: Someday; Education: In college ...

Rutgers University-New Brunswick. New Brunswick,New Jersey; Graduated: N/A;
Clubs: Founder and Editor-in-Chief of The Centurion. President, Glee Club. President, Philoclean Society. Rutgers Ski Team, Rutgers Debate, New Jersey Mathematics League.
California State University-Fullerton. Fullerton, CA; Graduated: N/A; Degree: Professional; Major: J.D., Law. 2007 to 2010 ...

...

Sailing, Nautica, Lobster, the Alps, Romance, cabernet Sauvignon, knots, Port Wine, 80s music, Method Acting, Theatre, Maps, Tobacco Pipes, Cuban Cigars, Calculus, Sprinting, espionage, Argyle clothing, Slam poetry, Irish heritage, cocktail parties, Old Books that smell like leather, Wikipedia.com, Dictionary.com, US Constitution, video Activism, Jack FM, politics, camping, breakdancing, public speaking, machine guns, Boys Scouts of America, cobblestone, daydreaming, skipping rocks, New York City, esp Central Park, Alto Saxaphone, skyscrapers, Men's choir, Paintings with Music, National Review, football, climbing trees, sleeping in, stick-shift Sports Cars, Jack Russell Terriers, Airplanes at night, Fans, Brooks Brothers, Bear Mountain, hanging with my best friend and roomate Zach Matusheski, Power Yoga, the Wall Street Journal, Waterfalls, Spanish and Italian languages, Sushu, Strawberry Milkshakes, Artichoke hearts with butter, fake plants, Penny Loafers, being in love.

...

Harvard Classics Series, Dante on Truth, Cicero on Truth, Dosteovsky on Truth, Shakespeare on Love, Sun Tzu on War, Aurelius on courage, Buckley on Sailing, Russell on Mathematics, Aristotle on ethics, Machiavelli on ethics, Nietzche on Morality, Burke on Tradition, McIntyre on Virtue, Chambers on Communism, Weber on Beaurocracy, Shaw on Activism, Hoffer on Mass Movements, Zimmerman on Metaphysics, Ogilvy on Advertising, Bronough on Writing, Harvard on Management, Santorum on Family, Alinsky on tactics, Hyde on Leadership, Ayer on traveling, Plato on Soul, Bloom on Education, Schall on Education, D'Souza on Reagan, Bastiat on Law, Horowitz on Academia, Clancy on Espionage, Chesterton on Othodoxy, Friedman on Contract, Buchanan on immigration, Krakauer on Wilderness, Eliot on Life and Death, Aquinas on God, ... "Flowers for Algernon" and "Grapes of Wrath" are fiction favorites.

...

Anthony Dini. dude, check out my new song! 5 years ago. Ryan Sorba. Anthony Dini. Great song, but how about Juliet? 5 years ago. lila. oh James, you are so cool with your sunglasses, your abstract interests and your brilliant books. why myspace? and when are you coming again? 6 years ago


* Seriously, the destruction of an enormous historical resource like this makes me want to punch something, and when I say "something" I mean that Tom guy or whichever bright-eyed, coke-rictus-sporting billionaire bawbag did the despicable deed.

As of November 2013, the Google search results for "site:myspace.com" were still displaying text from the wiped pages, so I thought I'd experiment with this a bit. (See below)

I would say this gave me a small sense of the amount of stuff that future generations won't be getting to know about now.

(Updated 2nd January 2014. The way the textual data have faded away on Google makes me think of the data ghosts from the Doctor Who story "Silence in the Library/Forest of the Dead".)

site:www.myspace.com "occupation soldier"
About 2,400 results
About 1,070 results (2nd January 2014)

site:www.myspace.com "occupation airman"
About 45 results
4 results (2nd January 2014)

site:www.myspace.com "occupation sailor"
About 269 results
About 116 results (2nd January 2014)

site:www.myspace.com "occupation musician"
About 15,000 results
About 6,050 results (2nd January 2014)

site:www.myspace.com "occupation prostitute"
About 563 results
About 311 results (2nd January 2014)

site:www.myspace.com "occupation banker"
About 1,510 results
About 836 results (2nd January 2014)

site:www.myspace.com "occupation office worker"
About 1,080 results
About 278 results (2nd January 2014)

site:www.myspace.com "occupation acorn"
About 1,990 results
No results found for site:www.myspace.com "occupation acorn". (2nd January 2014)

site:www.myspace.com "hometown kuala"
About 1,440 results
About 874 results (2nd January 2014)

site:www.myspace.com "dob * 1920"
About 9,910 results
About 2,200 results (2nd January 2014)

site:www.myspace.com "occupation ngo"
2 results (2nd January 2014)

site:www.myspace.com "occupation teacher"
About 9,670 results (2nd January 2014)

(UPDATE: Okay, haha, so it later transpired that it wasn't quite the total historica-bonfire I imagined. If an original-iteration Myspace user wishes to recover their old content, they apparently can do that now. Still far from ideal for future historians *cough* and nosey people like me *cough*. Also still a total dick move to just leave your users hanging like that for, what was it, a year? until letting them know their pictures, journals etc. could be recovered. When the site went down I remember reading a post by one guy, devastated, claiming he'd used Myspace for keeping a detailed journal of his medical school career and travelogues which were understandably very dear to him. You've got to imagine there are a lot of people like that who had something important to them stored on Myspace, but who for whatever reason (disenfranchisement; the shortness of life) will never happen to see the memo about the recoverability of said stuff. So, yeah. Definitely could've been handled better.)

Men in Skirts Use Women's Restroom at Mass. Marriott Hotel

Uploaded on Mar 12, 2010

Transgender madness in Massachusetts: The Peabody Marriott Hotel hosted the annual "First Event" transgender conference on January 15-17, 2009. These photos and videos illustrate the insanity that will descend on all of America . . . unless this sexual radical movement is stopped: Seven-foot men in dresses using the women's restroom. Hundreds of cross-dressers swarming the hotel, upsetting other guests (who were not forewarned). A transgender rock concert.
This is what protecting "gender identity and expression" really means.
Mass. Bill H1728 (now before the Legislature) would punish any opposition to such madness with fines and jail time. Even schools would be opened up to cross-dressing children, transgender restrooms and locker rooms, and sports teams. Employers would be subject to new non-discrimination regulations. (At the federal level, ENDA would force this on the country if passed.)

NJO: Title, video and blurb from MassResistance's YouTube channel. MassResistance is an anti-LGBT hate group. The videographer is explicitly identified as James O'Keefe in this footnote on the blog of MassResistance activist Amy Contrada, and also in this post from MassResistance.org.

Tolerate This

By James O’Keefe

Note: This is an authentic “slam” poem written in the Winter of 2003 in my passionate, reactionary response to Annie DiFranco.

It is to be performed in the spoken-word/hip-hop format.

Very few people at Rutgers are about to agree with what I have to say

But because you believe in acceptance and diversity

I’m ‘bout to say it anyway

You think you’re all Peace?

You think I’m all war?

You don’t know what it is we’re fighting for

It’s kill or be killed and we’ve been killed before

You don’t seem to understand the fundamentals of war

Like anxious butterflies behind closed doors

You imply utopia, logic you ignore

You disagree with dieing hard likes its

Some choice to make

You defy society like it’s some claim to stake

Hurry up and bitch because tolerance won’t wait

But we can’t let impatient hippies determine our fate

You blame this nation

For what madmen have done

On the Eleventh of September, 2001

You Support Palestine

But ignore about their laughter

Emanating from their celebrating the hating of Jews and destruction of America

On the day after

You use shady language and class dividers

You label suicide bombers as “freedom-fighters.”

You’re pro-harmony but never stop causing noise

Still

Against Capital

Against Capital punishment

Against Capitalism

On the Steps of Capitol

Hill

Sometimes it seems from your unpatriotic screams

You’d rather be in chains

In a Communist nation where a dictator reigns

Your ignorance just thrives when you describe

Bush as a Texas cowboy running astray

You stereotype him so I can stereotype you

Smoking weed and drinking your double cappuccino latte

How does it feel?

Just deal

No blood for oil but gas prices to high for sale

No tax cuts but stash the cashed check in the mail

You won’t make sacrifice for homeland protection

You often question but never offer suggestions

You’re in constant defense of criminals somehow

You persecute people for not being politically correct

Who’s hypocritical now!

You make up slogans and accusations

Believe anecdotes without a single citation

Brand me a racist with an agenda to gain

Hand me your bluff but I’m tough not insane

You spit on our honor cause division and pain

When you say the victims died in vain

Sitting on your pedestal of judgment

So-called “tolerance,” progressive, cosmopolitan, comfortably, cool, seriously doubting

Whining and pouting

Shouting against Inequality for the disunited States

And rising crime rates

You don’t care about the cause, just want the effect

You Dine in the paradigm the military you hate is trying to protect

You think I wouldn’t die for this country you’re wrong

I realize America’s where I belong

So you can stab me with your words

Protest me to the ground

Call me a fascist, racist, selfish clown

But I wont’ let hypocrites put me down

I’m American and I realize how fortunate you are

Why your teacher made you salute those stripes and stars

It’s ok to criticize but think before you speak

Think about the rights you have

What happens when the shuttle crashes?

Instant gratification

No more space exploration

We put a man on the moon 40 years ago

But now it’s too soon to send

A man into space?

A slap in the face

Of our imperialist plot to conquer a lot

Don’t rebuild the WTC higher

Simply build a tiny spire

It’s time to abandon all structural endeavors

Hide under our beds and cover our heads

Like the sissies you are

Don’t salute those stripes and stars

Fire Bill Maher

Because he told us we’re cowards

And we’re afraid that we are

We all care about our civil liberties being taken away

But only some parts of the constitution are ok

Not the electoral college part?

It works both ways doesn’t it?

The FBI, CIA should have done its job then

Its got all the evidence now

But you don’t care

You want infinite proof there

You wouldn’t sacrifice one fraction

To Save Millions of lives and when

Those lives are lost you blame those who didn’t take action!

The least I can do is ask you

TO not use sugar coated language and abuse our sensitivity

Our communication

Please do not call killing babies equipping young women with a choice

Don’t defy those who protect us

You’re making the enemy rejoice

It’s easy to hate

To accuse me that I discriminate

But to those who raise their fists

Answer me this

When the bomb is dropped by Iran (rhyme with bomb)

You look up and see the mushroom cloud

In the Sky

With forgotten rebelliousness and futile messages at your side

The day, when perfect hindsight is suddenly all around

And a billion tear drops fall to the ground

The day when you look into your child’s eyes and have to explain

More innocents have died

And your pedestal, your ability to be free is taken away

Then you’ll see something other than a President’s blue blood royalty

Tell me THEN your opposed to war

And the reasons for which we’re fighting for

Tell me THEN we’re imperialist clowns

Who operate on fallacious grounds

So if it’s true, your division’s still tall

Then perhaps the most powerful truth of all

Is you’d look the families in the face

Tell them one-by-shun

You helped cause another 9/11,

2001.

NJO: Originally posted on the blog Feathers of Steel at liberabit.blogspot.com.

Illiteracy Count: 9

1. Annie DiFranco
2. dieing hard
3. like its Some choice (apostrophe?)
4. gas prices to high for sale
5. Who's hypocritical now! (question mark?)
6. our honor cause division (comma?)
7. die for this country you're wrong (comma?)
8. wont’
9. Its got (apostrophe?)

Before and After

A Man and his Girl



A Letter Never Sent


I've realized the world is filled mostly with little girls and little boys really; children.

First there are the little boys.
These “dicks” are unpredictable, of course, perhaps air the girls’ laundry, make fun of their stomach, shoes, nose, or ass in a bar so that the girls feel challenged, i.e. believe they now have to “earn” his gaze by “working out” or losing weight, then want this guy as a result – these girls get highs of these cheap thrills, but the highs don’t last very long. The sexual and superficial gratifications with the “challenge” and “unpredictability” last as short as minutes and at most 5 years. But invariably, they go away. Guaranteed. And with that departure, the little boys and little girls hurry with restless urge from one passion to the next. One fuck to another. Girls get jealous and cry about the boys they lost. Little do they know, they cry out of envy and jealousy, not love.

These are the little girls.
Little girls want a guy who will cheat, challenge, and abuse them. Little girls want dick and negligence. Little girls stare at themselves in the mirror for a boy’s approval. They only want what they can’t have. It's not that they don't want marriage with children. It's that they can't handle something so powerful and mature. This is the type of girl you are, a child, no different than the majority, who thinks the aforementioned attributes of “little boys” represents “love.” Even worse than the boys, little girls like you are also hurry from passion to passion, mistaking these temporary passions for “love.” For example, you just leapt out of a four year relationship just like that after making incredible promises; you just gave up so quickly - you'll do the same thing with him, guaranteed. Little girls also get off using one person as a crutch, like you did with me, finding someone else, and then they, you, "take a break" to figure out if it's a good thing to leave me.
They like you, use people.

Then there are the real men.
Real men know what love is.
And love has nothing to do with attraction or repulsion, passion or excitement, adventure or challenge. Those things feel good but are not the best of things, because we don’t spend our lives with those things. We couldn’t. After all, nobody spends 80 years with that giddy, dainty lustful feeling, and rightfully so. It’s not possible to be attracted to the same person for a lifetime without hard work. Love is about commitment – I speak of the type of thing most children like you – can’t handle – or may ever be able to handle.

You left me for a little boy. A little boy who went after a girl who already had a boyfriend. He knew this yet he persisted and persisted, and you turned into a little girl; you acquiesced.

So let me tell you about a real man….

A real man, on the train with his woman, before he leaves for college, kisses the warm tears rolling down her cheek, comforts her in the street when you collapse, missing him, and when you’re all alone in the world, have no friends, nobody understands you, your parents emotionally abuse you, a real man listens and supports you, even when it discomforts him to do so – at one point he calls up your parents and pleads with them – he fights his ass off for you, takes trains home on weekday nights for you after knowing you suffer without him. He deals with your screwed up family, your suicidal mother, seeks approval of your French father all the while getting screamed at – why - because he knows that deep down in places you don’t admit about, but can see it in the way you react in your eyes, his father’s approval makes you proud. He does this because he’ll do anything to make you happy – he cares, a trait not often exhibited by little boys. A real man will walk, crawl through a blizzard, on a weekend during his freshman year in college while his peers are far, far away getting drunk every night and having sex with random girls – he’ll brave his biggest fear; high school nostalgia, by dropping off a valentine day card on your high school locker – while other boys are in other states chasing after a future life, dumping their high school sweethearts, he stayed home for you, didn’t leave for a scholarship in Texas, he dumped all that just for you, not that he regretted it or made you feel bad for it. He didn’t join a fraternity because you didn’t want him too. Sure the whole future world may teach him it was futile, but that doesn’t matter right then. Nor does it not matter that the relationship wasn’t perfect. It’s the principal, something only men have. He’s too good of a guy. Unlike others, he doesn’t need perfection, he’s content with what he has.

A real man hitchhikes hundred miles after getting in a car accident, abandoning his classic car on the turnpike, just so he can be there for the end of your mother’s funeral. He prays every night on the beach that summer, to the stars, that he can ease the suffering and the pain that you feel, end the helplessness that pervades ever phone call he has with you. He waits silently on the other end of the line for the woman you’re becoming – even in the darkest of times, he stares up at a poster of France and dreams he will one day be there with you, even though he hates France he loves you. Sits in the stairwell and comforts you when everyone else is out partying, not because he is “attracted” to you or is “passionate” about you, but because he cares about you and he cares so deeply about your feelings. He dreams of the woman you will become, and uses those dreams to get through the hard times. A real man rents a car and drives 600 miles, on impulse, through three different countries, just to see your face. Then he in trembling desperation tells you his feelings when you claim to be in love with someone else, only to be scoffed at over and over. He makes mistakes – say taking what he had for granted because he is genuine and real. But he has nothing to apologize for. He sang for you when you were sad, wrote you letters when you were lonely, gave you massages and expected nothing in return. He taught you to drive stick shift, bought you your first car because he knew you like that type of car even though you screamed at him when it broke down, he even tried to fix it; he taught you how to kiss, introduced half of the feelings you feel, gave you a new life, and taught you everything you know about music. He helped you grow up.

During collge, little girls, sluts, confront your man and tease him or tempt him, once going into his dorm room and taking off their clothes, one even offers to have sex with him, he never, NEVER acts on these sluts. This is far more incredible given he may be attracted to them, because he is human, but he doesn’t LOVE them, a mistake you make. For, you seem to think it is wierd for someone in a relationship to, once in a while, dream or fantasize about someone else ? Imagining yourself in an intimate situation with someone other than your partner is normal-and then some. If you don't understand this fact about human nature, you will keep divorcing your husband because you mistake ATTRACTION FOR LOVE. Childish jealous little girls and sluts get off challenging his loyalty - they wants a real man but for the wrong reasons - they want to see if she can tempt him away from you, these girls. But his commitment and service to you outweighs childish sexual fantasies. All around him his friends cheat on their girlfriends, then the cheaters tell the girls they love each other on the phone. He witnesses this, it’s all around him, he’s like an anthropologist, witnessing horrifying things. His peers tell him to dump you, forget about you. The majority of boys, under those constraints, stray, mostly in secrecy but a real man doesn’t Never. Not once. And you know what’s incredible. A real man suppressed his urges and instincts for a love he may not entirely grasp or understand. But he has faith that he one day will. He does this for love. That’s power.

That is confidence.

So that is why I spent about 20 minutes every morning for seven months crying my eyes and heart out after being abandoned by the girl I served for a scumbag. It is so unjust that you look at me as week or insufficient due to this, it is not because I am just overly nice or overly weak, but because I am strong and so confident and committed, losing you was like a death, but even more so when you were lost not only in flesh but in spirit. When you leave your man, he stays against all wits, he fights the urge to leave completely, he comforts you when you talk about your new guy, he listens when you tell him the new guy makes fun of your for the way you look and may drive you into an eating disorder.

Then your stepmother, a woman I fought so hard to make happy, a woman whose wedding I attended says “abandon him when the dog dies, cuts ties with him after your dog he’s taking care of dies” That is when he’s just about had enough.
You proclaim “I love Jason. Jason and I are doing great!!” This is why he cries and starts to lose hope. Not that you would understand. Not that you could understand. You're just a child.

Because Jason cheated on you multiple times, or did you ever tell your family that while they were telling you to cut ties with me forever (after your dog dies of course). Did you tell her that after he cheated on you you went and had sex with him again? Or did you neglect to mention that part. And how DARE you tell me the sexual details of your relationship with this ass hole ; what incentive do I have or did I ever have to hear about your sexual positions with these guys, your swallowing whatever, about your "skillz."

But there is hope for me. A grown woman wants a real man. And there are thousands and thousands and thousand of women, mature women, beautiful women, who want a man like that, someone who will take care of them, someone who they can trust no matter what happens – these women, like the real man, are a rarity, but they are there and usually find each other, they are far more lovely than the little girls – and when these people meet, they’re relationship surpasses attraction, these people become soul mates and stay through sickness and in health – good times and bad. This is the type of relationship we had. You followed my lead, but now your following the lead of your slutty, drunk, childish girlfriends.

Your peers have influenced you in the worst way, and what was once a special soul, a beautiful human being inside and out, delicate but strong, has become nothing but dirty laundry. Now instead of selflessness its lust, “hey babe, hey hun, chill out, peace out, hey dudes" etc., etc., and all the other "chill" shit Jason taught you, I fought for 4 years to help you but a guy who abuses you and cheats on you teaches you more. Now I don't see anything beyond your "chillness", and nobody else wants to because the only reason they hang out with you is because of THE WAY THAT YOU LOOK. All the compliments, the obsession with your appearance, the belly ring, the crying to me about Jason pressuring you about your flabby stomach; you're right you've changed, changed for the worse, and you want someone to appreciate you for the wrong qualities apparently, started blending in with the scene I described, the outside. You were once altruistic, devoted your time to soup kitchens, alleviating others suffering, listening, volunteering your compassion and understanding, even if it was just to make people smile... Life was a “bowl of cherries,” you had a pair of green pants with a few stains. Now you’ve got a whole wardrobe of pick ups and hand me downs and innuendo flirtations, all about you appearances, and your bambina bullshit.

You child.

You find more amazement in learning about marijuana than you do about significant, noble things. You left a creative sensitive compassionate guy – you left him for a boy that can kick a ball into a net. You have become more impressed with a soccer jock who needs you to correct his English papers, remember, he’s “only smart matched with you.”

So you can go off and see for yourself the difference I speak of. You can go and get your heart broken the way I have. Dump him for someone else or he’ll dump you for someone else. Either way, learn the heard way, and chase after the guys who "challenge" you. Like a feather in the wind, that’s the way attraction works. Do you understand?

I’m tired of crying, suffering, wondering, and hoping for your sake. That’s the real type of fighting – the type of dedication and soulful redemption we seek in the deepest of places. No words of mine could ever supplant your understanding. They are unnoticed, unrewarded, even scoffed at by you. You laugh but mostly ignore – take it as a plead, not a truth. Your eyes glaze over, wisp away on your train of content that you have “a friend” in me and a “lover” in him, both misconceptions, especially the later. You tell your “girliez” you are my friend like it’s a goddamn prize in a popularity contest. And the paradox becomes how to communicate with you on why I cannot be friends with you. Again words, thoughts emotions, song, poetry are all fruitless to you. You only respond to jealousy, an emotion you have nearly forced me to succumb to, and I can not in good conscious spend my time making you jealous or being jealous, a decent human being does not live in envy. And that is why it hurts, that is why I can’t be your “friend.” That is why I don’t know what to say on the phone when you want to be friends.

Think about it, if you’re even capable.

You are drifting into a different life, a 5 year long phase of emptiness and immaturity, you abandon your past self and the real man who “reminds you of your dead mother.” Never mind I cradled you in my arms and comforted you when it happened, when others told me to leave, no, when they weren’t even there, Including your father and stepmother who told you to get over her death. Tell me, where were the jocks when she died. Where were your girliez. Where was everyone. Even your grandparents were gone. Never mind your father called me up crying asking for advice as to what to do when she died. Nevermind I helped you blow out the birthday candles on your cake, and covered you in the rain, I fought to bring down the walls, every day of my life for nearly 4 years, the walls you proudly proclaim are tumbling because some jockcock has challenged you. You listened to your 700 online acquaintances when they told you to dump me and fuck me over. What in God's name did I ever do to you or them to deserve such a verdict.

So much for faith, so much for self-reliance, so much for “love,” so much for strength.

I’m too young, I’m too passionate, too healthy, but I’m too tired, goddamn tired of girls like you and your fucking games and formulas, as an old friend recently told me, why go though it? To get a girl like you again? It is no longer worth it to even try to make you understand. Worn on the outside like a snake skin, I need to shed, not change. Rebirth in journey, not in spirit. You need to make deeper changes, unfortunately. You were abused as a child – you will carry around that baggage your whole life. And I was willing to work with you through the long run, help you and support you in every way I and only I can. But enough about you. This time I’ll do it this time for myself. I trusted you, fought for you, and thought that we could date others, but keep that special bond, nothing else would compare. We would always love each other. But then you told me you “don’t love me anymore.” I realized you’re not capable of loving. My “not knowing who I am” was a false confession brought on by your psychological manipulations and my heartbreak. But it is all over now. I know exactly who I am.

It’s done. There’s nothing to reflect about – especially in regard to you.

I am damn proud of who I am and what I believe in. The fact that no one will convince me otherwise is a testament to my strength, confidence and security, the type of things that blow away in a stiff wind with the tempting whispers around your little-girl ears.

So you can go on and say you “love” Jason, and tell yourself that you “don’t love “James” anymore to your family. They’re all screwed up anyways. Your mother, god bless her soul in heaven looks down on us and knows differently. She knows how many girls Jason has had sexual relations with, how he cheats on you, how he spent a year of his life, persisting and persisting and persisting, while he knew we were together, knowing we loved each other, he kept on persisting at you using his little boy tactics, and as soon as you had sex with him, he started cheating on you. Isn’t that textbook. You are too stupid to see that. So you went ahead and cheated on him, but worst of all, you now say that you love him now more than you loved me. No words can mine can describe how wrong you are and how sad that makes me. But it is all over. No more conversation, no more slutty teasing, your games with me are over. It is all over now.

And you know what, I have never touched another girl in my life, I have kissed one girl once this past December. All the others were lies, fruitless, lies, Amsterdam, lies, Juliet, like the song was a lie, because I care about you so much, but I’m tired of the games and jealousy. It’s not who I am. I can't play danger, I need a sensitive compassionate woman who will appreciate for who I am, and you can't do that, Time will heal my heart but teach you that behind words are meanings, and like all the other little girls in the world, by the time you grow up, all the real men the best of them, will be all taken by girls who grew up before you did.

So you can go fuck your jockcock "boyfriend" for all I care. You know what, for the first time, I don’t give a shit. Go rent your apartment in Venice this week and fuck him long and fuck him good. Betray your father and move to Ohio! I want you to give everything up for him, break every rule, change everything about yourself. That way, when he breaks your heart you will burn and go through the same miserable catharsis you have forced me to go through. You’re his flavor of the year. He's slept with over a dozen girls, he's said "I love you" to each and every one of them... You're just a footnote in his life. So you can sculpt your body tighter and tighter, sclupt away, go running and pierce all parts of your body and spend 3 hours a day straightening your hair and doing your makeup for him there is bound to be another body out there for him. Did you honestly think that you were the one? Do you honestly think lucky #14 is going to be the one? There are bound to prettier girls and one day, a beautiful woman, inside and out, for him when he changes his ways, in very long run, women will even compete for him. Keep blocking me from facebook, but remember to keep sending me those giggity emails, I’m just a tally to your list, another faceless name, so keep sending me your travel email updates with your bubbly, fake sentences detailing how wonderful your new life is and how much you hated the girl you were. We’ll see how long that lasts....

* * *

When you were 15 years old and I was 17, we went deep into the park and into the woods and I inscribed our names on the log and gave you that promise ring. I taught you something special. We taugh each other something very special, commitment, precious tears of innocense and youth, and unbound faith and trust in each of our young hearts for better or for worse. And there were no games or corruption or the festered need to impress anyone or portray ourselves happier that we were. It was just that moment and it continued for years. You learned that there was hope in the world beyond the abuse in your household and that hope made you strong. Now I teach you somethign else... one day, 5 months, 1 year, 3 years, 5 years, you will change for the better, you'll grow up, revert to your pure, past self, and realize the world is filled with nothing but trash and dirty laundry. Scumbag asshole jocks are a dime a dozen. You'll realize that love is the stuff that keeps people together through the hardest of times when attraction and passion are nowhere. When you're week and scared and helpless love will keep you strong, the type of love that isn't just muttered at a height of an orgasm. You'll realize the jocks you dated just used you as arm candy, nothing more, nothing less. And they'll laugh at you or ignore you when you cry... and you will grow out of your phase, your childish curiosities and temptations will expire, memories will haunt you, ironically you're dog will have died but you'll return, dirtied up, using me as your crutch, you'll 'a come knocking at my door. You'll love the innocent, caring, passionate women you were when you were 15. The makeup will wear off and the ditry sex will lose its value. You'll realize the world can sometimes be a dark and lonely place. That there are few men willing to guide you and lead you and protect you out of those woods and into a fulfilling, happy and successful life. And when you realize this, you will be wise.
I’m the one's that sorry now.
Because when you get there, I'll be gone.

You swallow that a while, █████.

NJO: Originally posted on the blog Feathers of Steel at liberabit.blogspot.com.

Con ███████

I visited ███████ in Siena last Sunday, the girl I was dating for 3 - 4ish years, and who I am still in love with. We started going out on Valentines Day, 2002. I rented a smartcar from Lugano and drove 6 hours south from the alps all the way into the heart of Tuscany. Through winding roads, into tunnels, in the pitch black dark, with crazy Italian drivers whizzing by my at 120 kmh. My smartcar was so small that when I passed or was passed the thing LITERALLY almost blew over. It was scary as hell. I trembled at the wheel, tightended my arms and bit my lip for 400 miles. My vision was not so much blurred as my emotions. It was surreal driving through a foreign country with signs and customs I wasn't aquaitned with, with a manic obession running through my mind to find the girl I love. Love can make you to desperate and crazy things; lift cars and swim across oceans. I believe there are angels watching over me, as I didn't make one wrong turn. Statistical probablity would almost gurantee I would have, since I guessed at about a dozen major intersections. Navigate your way half way through a country in the middle of the night without any currency or knowledge of its language. It took me an hour to figure out how to pump gas. I ran to the nearest ATM, asking italians at McDonalds "Parla Inglese?!" (that's the formal conjugation of "speak."). The sight of a lost and incredibly (rare) American half way inbetween piza and Siena wearing a blue "Italia" tourist shirt in the middle of Tuscany/Nowhere at a McDonalds was enough irony to make Jonathan Swift turn in his grave. I actually ordered a cheesburger from MacDonalds (a regular cheesburger for a 'whopping' 3 us dollars) in American English as I was asking for Directions, and the whole scene made the cashier swell up with pride. (it's kinda like us working at taco bell and geting to practice our spanish by understanding the mexican when he states "Quiero la salsa con mi Taco."

The rub is ███████, although willing to talk and see me, is "not in love" with me anymore. She "Does not find me physically attractive" and "feels uncomfortable" when I call her often or tell her I love her. She "is in love" with another guy who goes to the University of Mass, and who is originally from Ohio, named Jason S████████. When ███████ first got to Umass, the boy had his eye on her, and persisted and persited and persisted ad infinitum, Iming her and emailing her, and inviting her to parties. This was September of 2004, about a year and a half ago. Christmas came, ███████ started feeling different, less strong towards me, I was taking her for granted no doubt, and I assume ███████ was begining to ask some major questions about everything. She wanted to "take a break" in March. I was so busy with my work and the Centurion I really didn't care that much back then. The more distant she became the more attractive to me she became - (And I though she would always be mine). I had once dreamed that she would tease other guys. It turned me on. Then Two weeks later when I called her she admitted she had "slept over" Jason's. From that moment in late March, the jealousy and anguish and pain I have felt in my heart has persisted, weathering me in ways I am so sick of and tired of and teaching me the value of treating a girl right and never letting her go.

But this past summer in DC was fun. Although, we "broke up", I suppose, in May (neither of us had ever done it before so we didn't know what it entailed) we did everything we used to do over the summer, because we were together always. She even visited me down there and we had wine at an Italian restaurant; one of my favorite memories of our relationship. Now I would hope what I am about to say isn't as truley as significant as she made it out to be. She left for France this summer for a month and that is truely when the fulcrom tipped; half-way through france I sent her a poscard, somewhat playfully telling her about the girls I am meeting in DC. She sent me an email I responded to late and told my mother I was ignoring her. She then came to some epiphany in France and when she got back called me immediately. From that moment on things changed indefinitely. From that phone call. I responded "Hi" and acted disinterested, because it was just a moment and I wasn't thinking. She reacted to that and acted disinterested. I told her, because of my silly and stupid attraction to a cute girl at work, that it was OK, I'm kinda interested in someone else. From her end was an all-out bombshell: "I'm Dating someone and am visiting him in Ohio next week."

We had planned to spend a week in DC together, that turned into two days, which turned into a night, well, two hours. And the sexual tension of us being together as "Friends" eventually made her kiss me, yes, while she was "dating" Jason, who... she hadn't even seen yet. I later understood that when I acted disinterested and distant it would turn ███████ on, even while she was with Jason. I'm not so sure if I can pretend that hard or if it's even possible anymore.

When ███████ left for Umass, she kissed me on the lips, told me she loved me, and said she'd see me when we're married 5 years from now. How words so lovely could be so cruel. For I would not see ███████ for another 5 months. I could write a book about the pain and agony during those 5 months, it strangled me and prevented me from doing well academically, it brought me into a miniature depression.

Before I continue the story, let me explain that ███████ needs to be in a commited relationship at all times, with someone. She cannot be alone or looking around. This is part of her mentality and physchology. She used to give a lot, but being a cute girl (and a hot girl when she gets ready to go out to party) in College now, everybody is all over her, and she has started taking; compliments, gifts, "I <3 you!"s guys and girls and 500 friends all over her, wanting her for various reasons. She never had that before. All she had was me, an old fashioned guy with an old fashioned way of doing business and romance. A 21 year old soccer player swooper her off her feet, and seeing him and hooking up with him almost every day, she gave into the temptation, and slept with him, in ya know, that way.

From what I gathered, Jason was not going out with ███████. ███████ wanted to "be in a relationship" with him, but he kept saying no. ███████ didn't like this, because it wasn't the safety and security she needed so desperately. And in early November, after ███████ got done ahving sex with him, another girl called her up and told her that she was hooking up with Jason, as well were a few other girls. BOMBSHELL

███████ cried for days, weeks, ripped up his gifts, cursed him off and joined and online "Jason-HATING" club on facebook (no joke!) Jason wouldn't attempt to contact ███████ but she, so jealous, wouldn't give in. I, looking at her facebook everyday, would monitor her hatred of Jason and her friends reassuring her. 

On that I danced around my room listening to "innocent man" by billy joel, feeling a sense of redemption since I had went out on a "date" (maybe I'm a little hopeful calling tea a date, but I said I'm old-fashioned) with a girl who I thought was cute - meanwhile ███████ was getting "fucked over" by the jock cock she dumped me over. It wouldn't be long before ███████ contacted me with an apology. She did contact me very soon, but what she said I'll never forget

November 11th: "James, it's been a while since we've talked, I just want to tell you Goodbye since I'm goign to Italy" Are you Kidding me ███████?! Goodbye?! How could you??????? You're not leaving for another two months, and I'm going to Europe also!!! And that's after Christmas vacation... and you just got cheated on!!! I never cheated on you, ever! How could you say this.

I was so angry by what she said that I responded with the following statement:

So cruel... so so cruel. You IM me tonight to make you feel better about yourself, "I'm not a cold-hearted bitch?" you ask. You remove youself from my facebook wall, you tell me you won't talk to me because "you're going to Europe." You don't even talk to me now!! Do you realize how much you've hurt me? You can't say anything nice! You expect me to make you feel better about yourself and reasure you?! I just saw on on your profile you were fucked over by Jason S████████. He played you like a piano. YOu left me for a fucking scumbag who cheats on you and fucks other girls, and your poor little heart is broken. Your broke the heart of a caring, charismatic, sensitive loyal boyfriend for a fucking scumbag. Now your dirtied up. How does it feel ███████? I think I'm worth more than that, in fact I know I am, and I'm know other girls know I am as well. So no, I don't want to be friends with you, until you look into my eyes and give me the most sincere apology of your life. Until then, leave me alone.

Well the ███████ who can't be alone was alone at that point, I'm guessing more alone that she'd ever been. ███████ waited around for my phone call that week. And now I know she missed me that week. And I knew there was a good chance she would have taken me back that day if I had just drove up there to see her or told her I missed her. But a man's pride can not allow him take a girl back after she dumped him for another girl. God did I think about her all the time. Every single day I thought that ignoring her would get her back.

███████ could not stand to be alone, and there as persistent Jason sitting outside her door for days, waiting for her to open up. So alone and so confused, ███████ poured out to Jason who just listened and listened - just after I took the LSATS on Dec 3rd ███████ was "in a realtionship with Jason" on facebook, (that evil program).

I called her on christams, unable to take it anymore. She didn't call me back. I wrote her a song. She wrote me one sentence in the email, saying "it was nice." I wrote her a final email pouring out my heart. She said we shoudl meet.

We met the day before she left, and there was a lot of sexual tension. All the anger I felt for so long subsided because I truly still felt for her. I still wanted her, I did'nt care abouit that guy. We flirted alot. I acted disinterested like they tell you do. It drove her nuts. "Why aren't you going after me James? I'm a little surprised"

███████ in her car, told me to hug her, I went in and she kissed me. It felt like heaven but violated every cardinal rule. Sometimes I think it would have helped not to, but ███████ is the type of girl who needs to know the truth and not play games. What happend after felt good for the both of us, and she said, "We still have it." She vowed to see me in Europe. She drove away in her car, just like she had done to me back in August.

I wasn't going to let history repeat itself.

Then she left, I called her my first week here, and her mood changed. What happend was just a moment and she was is in love with Jason. I acted desperate and whiny and she became far more removed. We started emailing. I called her almost every day keeping in touch telling her my feelings, she would treat me like a friend, I guess, no emotion. Finally I just broke down and with trembling desperation told her I will leave her alone but I will always love her.

She called me back an hour later!, but alas, it was only about some message a girl sent her. Why do I still feel so strongly about ███████, when she continues to piss me off, react like a child to such powerful emotion. There is no reason to love, and that is why I drove down to see her

* * * * *

We had a good time in Siena, stayed up all night talking, walked around, took photos together. It was like what we always did. Like nothing had changed. There was no intimacy in our relationship in public anyways. And for those hours, nothing did. But now, I'm still hurt, and I still think about her and Jason. She told me alot about him and her that day, and it hurt alot. 

I'm surprised she wants to go to Amsterdam with me next weekend, and couldn't be anymore excited. Everynight I go to bed I pray that I will meet someone fast and soon but still believe we will end up together in the end.

███████ wants to get married in only a few years, right out of college. She told me she will show the true woman she is to that one special guy, a woman she is gradually now becoming. ███████ is not the sex object she makes her self out to be in party pictures on facebook. She is an innocent flower, who can now truly share truths with herself. She can only share that special part of her with one other person. She was too young to give her soul to anyone while we were together. Now she is coming of age, and when she is 25, she will be the most beautiful thing on this earth.

But She is in love with someone else. And there's no getting passed that. That's the way it is. If I knew the answers in my heart; what to do, how to feel, that would be one thing, but's its forcing yourself to do the right thing as well - its not right to rent a car and drive 7 hours in the middle of the night. It's also not right for us not to date other people. I still have hopes and I still have dreams. 

I just wish ███████ loved me.

NJO: Originally posted on the blog Feathers of Steel at liberabit.blogspot.com.

Relativism: Oppression's Ally

JAMES O'KEEFE

In examining cultural relativism, we must first ask ourselves whether or not certain cultural differences ought to be tolerated to such a point where we approve of cultural traditions that seem to us unjust or even ethically evil. Among these we find genital mutilation, the Hindu practice of suttee – burning women at the stake – and making women cover their faces like Cousin Itt from the Adams Family. The Multiculturalist connoisseurs and anthropological relativists would say yes, while the conservative intellectuals Allan Bloom, Robert Bork, William Bennet, or “neo-cons,” as they are called, would say no.

So is it morally justified for us to rescue Afghan women from their society? Absolutely.

Those who oppose the “neo-con” efforts of George W. Bush, Paul Wolfowitz and the rest of the gang include author Lila Abu-Lughad in her essay, “Do Muslim Women Need Saving?” Lughad uses the justification that particular cultural traditions that “we” westerners denounce, like the practice of stoning a woman to death because she left her home without the company of a male relative, are ignorant because our disapproval itself contains hidden Western prejudices about the history of exploitation and racism that indirectly led to such savagery in the first place. Lughad, similar to most postmodernists, prefers an historical and political view of any region to a review of its religious or cultural aspects. Lughad describes how U.S. involvement is responsible for stonings and burnings due to our support of the Taliban during the last twenty-five years in our effort to fight the Soviets. If Lughad is arguing that brutality against women under Shari’a Law been caused by the Americans, then aren’t we obligated to fix this? Even if it is our actions and not religious extremism (that’s a big “if ”) that explains stonings and burnings, they certainly don’t justify such brutality. Lughad justifies not brutality but the wearing of cultural dress; this focuses on the wrong issue. It is not the burqas and
other forms of cultural dress we hope to save Muslim women from, it is their right not to be butchered, not to have their lives taken from them when they speak their minds in the home or in public. Living in the free world, Lughad takes those rights for granted. Saving women from oppressive tyrants does not constitute western imperialism; it is a confirmation of the fundamental rights of all human beings. Lughad’s argument ignores extreme forms of brutality in its attention to the burqa, and then focuses on the question of moral relativism. The notion that truth is a reflection of a certain cultural bias – the idea that what is right and what is wrong differs from culture to culture, from era to era, from person to person, et cetera – can be first understood in the context of David Hume’s distinction between facts and values. We know for a fact that the world is round, but whether or not the world is lovely is a different thing entirely, and arguably of little importance. The Comedian George Carlin made our egocentrism poignant to a modern audience with his hauntingly wise rebuttal of environmentalism: The planet Earth is fine, it doesn’t care what color or shape it's in; it is dependent rational animals like human beings, not a chunk of rock in the cosmos, that are emotive enough to make those determinations. “The planet will be here for a long, long, LONG time after we’re gone, and it will heal itself, it will cleanse itself, ‘cause that’s what it does. It’s a self-correcting system. The air and the water will recover, the earth will be renewed, and if it’s true that plastic is not degradable, well, the planet will simply incorporate plastic into a new paradigm: the earth plus plastic.”

But some emotions and values can and should be universal. There should be standards of judgment among people, ideas and events to prevent harmful perversion. Otherwise personal liberation will become on one hand the Sartre-inspired Marxist doctrine of everybody determining their own truths, and on the other the extreme libertarianism of Ayn Rand, where public virtue is ignored. Both bring about an inability to make universal judgments on anything, and we are forced to accept the extremist behavior of others. And since we are indifferent to extreme forms of tolerance, we become... bored. Worse, without a moral standard upon which to rely, we need to be given one from the cultural elites that begin to develop an excessive amount of dominance over our values. These elites may be professors at a University where the young-uns lack a common moral foundation, or worse, elites that serve selfish purposes, like the pigs George Orwell told us about on that farm of his, where society as a whole lacks a moral foundation.

Individualism has to be restrained in order to avoid undermining the traditional values of the community. To preserve these values, some universal truths are required to govern the community. This philosophy has been attributed to Pope Benedict XVI, whose philosophy echos Allan Bloom’s sentiments:

Truth is not determined from what is popular in a democracy, truth is discovered by leaving your cave and discovering what is eternal. Without God, you run the risk of tyrants making that determination. Without a compromise where individuals slightly subordinate themselves to their communities, communities will be governed by tyrants that replace God. The people should govern themselves and be given the right to do so from a divine authority.

When you deny objective values, you create what may be called "men without chests," as C.S. Lewis put it in his short book The Abolition of Man. Curious how we expect "virtue and enterprise" of these men when the organ that provides such services has already been removed.

James O'Keefe is a Rutgers College Senior majoring in philosophy.

NJO: Originally printed in the December 2005 issue of The Centurion.

I Have a Dream

Much has changed since the time of Edmund Burke. While prudence, honor, restraint, reverence, self-discipline, liberty and conviction will always be conservative, modern “conservative” declarations seem to directly contradict these classical virtues. There is no better time than now to explore how these themes have changed and how these virtues clash. This is a time when Peter Lawler believes the Republicans will become two parties split between anti-libertarians and libertarians. Former Soviet political prisoner Natan Sharansky’s The Case for Democracy is the neo-conservative version of the Declaration of Independence; calling for the promotion of democracy for oppressed people’s throughout the world. Fiscally, our Republican allies are anything but conservative. As the Wall Street tycoon once said, “our trade deficit and its fiscal deficit are at nightmare proportions.”

But our universities are also at a crossroads, becoming what David French calls "islands of repression in a sea of liberty." Professors have seemed to have figured out answers to all of life’s great questions. The Academy is, without a doubt, the left’s last vast impenetrable fortress. It is an ideological monopoly on truth, which, as Victor Davis Hansen has said, “has adopted a therapeutic curriculum in pursuit of political objectives.” The pseudo-religious rhetoric of “diversity” has replaced the great rhetorical social questions of Plato and Aristotle; the relationship between God and man, virtue and vice, heroism and cowardice, and beauty and wisdom. These questions have been replaced with an obsession, not of veritas, but with skin color.

Rutgers Professors and staff gave 104 times more money to John Kerry than George W. Bush in the 2004 election cycyle. One Hundred and Four to One. This ratio is comparable to the political diversity present under the rule of Genghis Khan.

In our beloved Academy; a supposed citadel of intellectual brilliance, its commanding officers have become intellectual sloths; unchallenged by any principled conservative opposition and unbridled to invite speakers to campus to compare Bush to the Ku Klux Klan, or rant about how the war to liberate the middle east is morally bad in a class completely unrelated to international relations or its relating philosophies.

From a journalistic standpoint, THE CENTURION is an avowedly conservative magazine. We implore our detractors who demand political balance to weigh us on the scale against other student publications including The Medium, the Green Print, The Review and The Caellian. Let’s not forget The Daily Targum, a newspaper from which I was once fired. Worry not my Leftists; the academic fulcrum still tips in favor of you; if not in print (we’ll take this potential newfound conservative leaning as a testament to our success), then decidedly so in the classroom. THE CENTURION arrived on the scene last November to a blazing fire, extinguishing it with guerilla tactics; awards on doors, sensitivity complaints, racist cereals and needed muckraking against local political cronyism. This sardonic approach seems to have had more efficacy and influence on our student body which cares as much about truth as Muslims care about Jesus.

On our campus common sense is blurred by obfuscation; the p.c. patrol, the diversity police, the self-esteem deans, the speech codes, and the professors violating core tenets of academic freedom, etc.

I founded THE CENTURION because I have a dream...

I have a dream where diversity refers to more than just the melanin in one’s skin; where conservatives are not to be called “fascists” for advocating pluralities of methodologies, perspectives and common sense views.

I have a dream that Lucky Charms is thought of as a breakfast cereal rather than a symbol of Leprechaun oppression.

I have a dream where the banning of “offensive” Grease Trucks sandwich names is of little consequence compared to the rapes of women off campus.

I have a dream someone realizes Rutgers’ financial woes just might be due to dozens of committees and caucuses “devoted to advancing our common purposes” as well as pork programs and counselors and their Deans that believe self-esteem is more important than the process by which you earn it.

I have a dream where we realize guns are no more responsible for Columbine than spoons are responsible for Michael Moore’s obesity.

I have a dream where we lay our presents under Christmas Trees, not holiday shrubs.

I have a dream at least one building or program or committee or scholarship will be named after our Rutgers’ Nobel peace prize winning graduate Milton Friedman, RC ’32. His axiom that political freedom requires economic freedom is a lesson learned only by visiting the graves of the innocent women and children butchered to death by bloodthirsty tyrants; economic atrocities condoned by the applause of Paul Robeson's supporters.

I have a dream where bureaucrats, uneducated in matters relating to life’s great questions, stop putting restrictions on what I can or can’t say, stop enacting policies that arbitrarily prohibit behavior, and stop making value judgments on what I believe.

I have a dream where conservative faculty are free from ideological witch hunts; where political opinions and/or skin color is prohibited from being considered in the hiring of university professors.

I have a dream where the unfair employment practices and accusations against one of our nations most gifted sociobiologists because of his conservative leaning, is prosecuted by the fullest extent of the law.

I have a dream where they will introduce a biology prerequisite for women’s studies classes.

For we the conservatives, ironically, have become the modern day Henry David Thoreaus, albeit in a less revolutionary way. For we, the silent majority, “stand athwart history yelling stop” in a place and at a time when our professors and peers call for radical change.

None of us knew each other a year ago. A man I considered my best friend last year betrayed me over chalk yielding, gown wearing overly ambitious students buying into their own hype. I have met others since then. The unappreciated wisdom of the encyclopedic Wesley James Young; whose civility is only matched by his compassion. The southern legal language of Jeff Erickson. The untapped artistic genius and patience of Justine Mertz. The editorial prowess of my successor, Dan Whitney, who spent late nights (and their accompanying early mornings) at production meetings curbing his enthusiasm, as well as the timely alarm on his wristwatch. The honor in Alan Marrero’s eyes. The steadfast morale of Greg Walker. The Enigmatic Matt Klimek, consummate but withdrawn...

We publish onward, not in the name of our friendship, but for the love of our cause. We have nothing to offer but a slightly naïve, scant knowledge of modern conservatism from our readings in outside publications, books and recently, online journals. The intellectual sloths and anonymous cowards at the pulpit in the ivory tower at Rutgers who read this sentiment will post on their blogs, with relief, our efforts are not nearly enough to dethrone them! For we do not have the required experience, cannot battle student apathy and have not read as much third-rate Marxist hogwash.

But our superior ideas have been time tested, consecrated by the blood of martyrs, victorious in the world of reality strife-torn by a century plagued by revolution. Our naiveté is offset by our courage, bound not for each other but for our cause on a campus that unites in condemning us. I have been hated more in the last year of my life than in the past 20 years of my existence combined, and most likely more hated than you readers. And if that seems somewhat dramatic, you’re damn right it is. So entrenched are we in our cause, Matt, Justine and I forfeited characteristics of coyness and prudence long after we received the anonymous death threats, to prove a point that we weren’t even certain would turn out to be effective.

Transcending all of this; we decided to do something about which we cared. We challenged people to see our version of the truth. It is my contention we have succeeded.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, leaves us about the hottest thing in town.

James O'Keefe

Originally printed in the December 2005 issue of the Centurion.