Finally there’s reason to side with The Left. Who would have thunk it? Sara Sanders gets booted out of a restaurant and the lefties rejoice in the streets which they’re entirely free to do. The Trump Army and Conservative Media, typically knee-jerk, are incensed and critical,  emotions they’re entirely free to express. This is America. This is the land of the First Amendment — a cornerstone of Freedom. Turns out the restaurant name is the Red Hen, a “farm-to-table” eatery that seems to promise fresh grub. Owner Stephanie Wilkinson said proudly. “I have a business, and I want the business to thrive. [But] this feels like the moment in our democracy when people have to make uncomfortable actions and decisions to uphold their morals.” If you don’t mind terribly, Ms. Wilkinson, let’s put that statement another way, (apologies if calling you Ms. misses the appropriate gender designation). What you suggest is that, as a private business owner, you should be free to discriminate — to refuse service to anyone you choose. Good for you. Hear-hear. You have convictions. You’re willing to stand by them. This is America. Although, Ms. Wilkinson, you may remember that, according to a Colorado judge, Jack Phillips of Masterpiece CakeShop, unlawfully discriminated against a gay couple by refusing to sell them a wedding cake. Why?  Because it violated his religious principles. Well, possibly his discrimination was far worse than yours since he offended same-sex marriage. Still, your passionate and sometimes riotous supporters will continue to defend your right to conduct your business as you see fit. In fact, your indomitable courage might very well incite millions of them to strike a new blow for Freedom. In the not too distant future, your avid supporters, in defense of Fairness and Equality, will almost surely defend owners of restaurants who may choose to refuse service to Hispanics, African Americans and many other “minorities.” For too many decades, you must agree that Federal and State Governments have abrogated the rights of private businesses to discriminate, not just in the food service industry, but in every industry. Someday, Ms. Wilkinson, you will be gratified to see the political Left, those that have stood staunchly by your right to discriminate, apply the same standards to all Americans, regardless of political affiliation. This is a watershed moment in history. The Intellectual Left takes great pride in its moral underpinnings. It’s only a question of time when the tenets of Freedom allow all Americans to privately or publicly discriminate in the conduct of their business and personal lives. After all, this is America. When that time comes, Ms. Wilkinson, we shall expect Hell’s population to be decked out in polar parkas.

There was a time when Hollywood produced moralistic, value-based films. You’ve seen hundreds. They were about good vs. evil. About things like courage and commitment, respect and responsibility, spirituality and self-reliance, loyalty and love. Early Television followed suit. Family programming endorsed family values. Profanity and explicit sexual content were absent. Violence and base language had their places in storytelling but neither was gratuitous. Despite its failures as a nation, America struggled to continually reach for the ideals expressed in its founding principles; and with few exceptions, film makers sought to capture and elevate those ideals. Yes, America knew vulgarity. Yes, there was filth. And bigotry. And criminality. Lots of it. But Hollywood and Television championed good people, educated speech and lofty standards. Men respected virtuous women. And women appreciated valiant men. America’s culture embraced something called decency.

As Margaret Mitchell wrote in 1936, those days are “gone with the wind.”

Are they ever. Hollywood, Television and The Internet are largely responsible for fueling America’s cultural decline. The decline began with the debasing of the English language. Toddlers everywhere grow up hearing an avalanche of F-bombs. “No big deal,” Hollywood says. It’s just “realism,” an honest reflection of how 8-year-olds allegedly express themselves on the playground. Comedians couldn’t survive without F-bombs. You can understand why stand-up comics and movie makers lean on obscenity. Their audiences, primarily but not exclusively millennials, laugh uproarously as if public use of the F bomb is some type of bravely expressed humor. It hasn’t occurred to teens and young adults that comedians and rap composers rely on profanity because they have neither the talent nor work ethic nor command of language to create original, lasting comedic art. But these obscenity merchants aren’t dumb. They know their audience all too well. They dish out filth and violence because they know their minions will lap it up like drug addicts inhale their next fix. Without fail, the Media Industrial Complex relies heavily on general stupidity — on the naivety and cultural sterility of the 15-40 year old demographic. Why not? Billions of dollars are at stake.  Ironically, the offended generation  delights in Hollywood vulgarity and violence one day and the very next day protests  bitterly over hate speech and guns. They applaud Hollywood actors who spew profanities toward the POTUS, and simultaneously are traumatized by any opinion that invades their “safe spaces.” In the final analysis, you can’t blame teens and young adults for their ignorance and America’s cultural decline. Ignorance is simply a byproduct of a grievously sub-standard public education system. Teens can’t speak proper English because poorly educated teachers and parents are themselves not qualified to teach it. This allegation is not unwarranted. The proof walks and talks on college campuses all across the land, as evidenced by Jesse Watter’s spontaneous interviews. For decades now, students have dispensed with learning about America’s true history, thanks to teachers who use revisionist textbooks that rewrite history. No, ignorance is not the failure of diminished I.Q. or lazy minds. In large part, it is a systemic failing of governmental overreach and bureaucratic meddling. Even so, you can’t give teens and young adults a full pass. Perhaps in America’s history there have never been successive generations that were more ungrateful, demanding and self-centered — more frivolous and purposeless — in  two words, spoiled rotten. Doubtless, this harshly condemning harangue will not alter the course of history a smidgen. But it does offer a prediction based on evidence: without a timely, fundamental, structural restoration of your Republic — as it was conceived — the future now is locked in, set in stone. You can see that exact future. It already exists elsewhere. Look east.

In a world perpetually poised on the brink of pending disaster, it’s time for some trifling, inconsequential, critical commentary — and there’s nothing much more insignificant than the sport of tennis.  Somehow this activity manages to survive, as always resuscitated by a few exceptional athletes whose personality and talent invigorate major events. Underway at this moment is something called the French Open, a competition played on red clay. Europeans — at least the citizens of France and Spain —  love it. There’s a lot to like, a lot to observe, for everyone. Factually, tennis exhibits the human body. Men who appreciate young women can appreciate the skimpy wear on many alluring bodies, especially when given intimate camera close-ups. Women who appreciate young men delight in ripped abs and trendy facial hair of the celebrity athlete. For other viewers, their interest might be peaked by a famous athlete wearing a full body suit that emphasizes a massive Gluteus Maximus. Speaking of hindquarters, there is the mystery of all mysteries, concerning a superstar named Rafael Nadal. Here you have a giant of the game — a tennis idol with money to burn, who evidently can not find underwear anywhere that does not doggedly crawl into his intergluteal cleft. Before serving a tennis ball, his routine never varies, including a series of tics and mannerisms, one of which is to use two fingers to deftly tug at the rear of his shorts, apparently to pull his underwear out of his butt crack. Nonchalantly, he does this in broad daylight, in front of millions. This behavior is not intermittent. He never fails to do the “tug” before every serve. Every serve. Thousands of “tugs.” You are left to wonder: Is the “tug” just a psychological habit? Is the “tug” a secret “tactic” that has vaulted him to the top of the tennis world? Would he have failed without the “tug?” Perhaps in the future annals of tennis, some expert will have written the Nadal biography and reveal all — a book that could be entitled, The Immaculate Tug. In any event, sports media ignore it. As do cameras. If his matches were played in Cameron Indoor Stadium, the crazies would invent a sound that would be voiced in unison to coincide exactly with the “tug” — something like, well, the word itself — “tug.” You no longer watch a Nadal event — but boycotting him has nothing to do with his fixation. Thanks to Monica Seles, he is one of the many players who have decided to ruin tennis. He, and they, do this by accentuating each shot with a loud shout, scream, groan, howl, shriek, bark, or squawk. Obviously, they have been taught by karate gurus that yelling reinforces power, concentration and intimidation. Many great players have adopted this crutch and many have avoided it. But you don’t believe screaming bothers the average tennis fan — because the dumbing-down of tennis fits right in with the wailing, complaining and whining of generations of Millennials. You’re relatively certain that tennis screamers are okay people, but you will never cheer for them, period. The Sharapovas, Williams, Haleps, Nadals, Del Potros, Ferrers, Murrays and many more are almost as annoying as the moronic Florida State tomahawk chop. Well, enough said about a trivial subject. Tennis has a tiny audience. No one cares about Nadal’s “tug.” But, gosh, you really would like to know the secret. Just think — if, before every tee shot, you reached behind and gave a quick tug — maybe — just maybe — your golf game would thrive with this unique pre-shot routine. Anything’s worth a try.