Be Thou at Peace, S. Truett Cathy
I suppose that having no intimate firsthand knowledge of the manifold virtues of sodomy, nor a desire for its normalization, would disqualify me, at least in the jaded opinions of Progressives, from commenting on the Chick-Fil-A Wars. Future text books will magnify the scope of LGBT heroics, and these advocates stand to go down in history amongst the ranks of partisans of the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising or America’s Freedom Riders. I should not be amazed that the Left, in its perennial jihad to colonize the mind and wipe from historical memory the remnant of any distinctions of moral architecture, has chosen a devout Christian, whose business happens to provide tasty chicken sandwiches, to put the proverbial screws to for their hackneyed version of a 21st century thought crime.
It is not enough anymore to provide a wholesome product and work environment, to say nothing of the many jobs that the late Mr. Cathy added to America’s economy. One is no longer free to voice traditional beliefs culled from that ancient faith that dare not speak its name. S. Truett Cathy’s legacy will mirror the schism of this fractured time. He will be admired and loathed by people who knew nothing of the immense personal good he administered by virtue of his fortune. A vague rumor of political “bad-speak” will be sufficient enough for his haters. For a sickened era that views the lives of good men through the meat-grinder prism of the popular rage, private virtues must proceed through the gauntlet of orthodoxy, and those who lie outside the standard deviation must be harangued back into the fold or summarily destroyed by any means necessary.
We have always known that the Left, emboldened by their animating adage: “The personal is the political,” would bare their long knives and come for us one day. One cannot construct a gleaming Humanist Citadel on the foundations of “impure” thoughts — even if such “indecent” speech is backed up by the precepts of nature, wisdom, and the moral pillars that proceed from the Western heritage of both reason and revelation.
As Right Reason and moral illumination phase into eclipse, and the private and public counsels of men are weighed and excoriated by Lilliputian sensibilities who will brook no dissention of edicts arising from their insular auto-da-fe,’ remember well the stand you took against the sensual barbarism of our crooked age. Bewitched minds have upended the moral poles: pronouncing good as evil while they position the toleration of depravity as the foremost commandment heading their post-modern catalogue of anti-virtues. An amalgamation of terminally confused consciences now toil tirelessly in the darkness, so that an opaque curtain of homogeneity will shroud the wanton deeds of Sodom Rising; so that their despicable works will not stand out as deficient in the West’s dark and rolling sea of drowning men.