There's been a great deal of talk lately on the likely demise of this Grand Republic of ours.  Very wise and scholarly Americans have taken to opining publicly on the dire state of things, all asking the basic question, "Can this Republic be saved"?

Some historians have compared our current plight to that of the Roman Empire in its fall-apart days.  Some Hollywood doomsayers point to the end date of the Mayan calendar:  2012.  Biblical prophecy experts see an apocalyptic climax forming.     

Sociologists study the decline in marriage, the tsunami of out-of-wedlock childbirth, the failed public education system, the rising disparity between rich and poor and come to the conclusion that without desperate measures, America cannot sustain herself.  Demographers point to drastically declined birth rates in every outpost of Western Civilization and remind us that demography is destiny; without new citizens civilization itself is unsustainable.

Economists pore over the unemployment rates, the inflation rate, the creeping stagflation, the stock market jitters and see the most dire danger signs all around.  Our inextricably linked global economies and unmoored-by-gold currency fluctuations make us all vulnerable to every financial hiccup and belch in other regions.  The IMF goes begging; leaders of failing economies sign worthless promissory notes.  Workers are told they'll have to work a couple more years to get their pensions and violence erupts.  Our American Fed gets out its printing press and prepares to "prime the pump" with yet more Monopoly money.

Meanwhile, political polarization grows more and more heated and less restrained.  Things seem to be reaching fever pitch here at home while communists and Islamofascists join forces for war games in the Middle East.  Wise watchers see an ominous similarity between pre-WWII economic conditions and rising totalitarian political systems, warning that what happened then could be about to repeat itself -- this time, with nuclear weapons. 

In short, this looks scary as hell, foreboding in the extreme, and it would surely take a ninny of historic imbecility not to at least be quite angst-ridden over the future. 

So, can this Republic be saved?

Well, of course, it can. 

The real question for every American citizen ought to be:  Is this Republic worth saving?

If the vast majority of us do not answer that question in the affirmative --with all the guts and gusto we've got -- then there isn't one chance in hell that this Republic can be saved. 

We've got the means to save ourselves.  But if we don't have the will, the means will surely come to naught.  Means never used never succeed.   That's just an immutable fact of real life.   

Where there's a will, there's a way.

Take away the will to save America, and what have you got?

Well, I'll tell you. 

You see him -- whether you want to or not -- just about every single day on television, on the internet, standing at the teleprompter, jiving on late-night comedy hours, delivering his lines in the Rose Garden, yucking it up with brainless movie stars, leaking national security secrets, pontificating on his final-4 basketball picks, spinning tall tales about his  "roots" narrative, throwing coming-out parties, juking onstage with Paul McCartney, playing golf, golf, golf, and more golf.

You've seen him at the Vineyard.  You've seen him in the surf in Hawaii.

You've seen him in flip-flops, sipping Slurpees, playing ping-pong on the Continent.  You've seen him bowing to dictators and chatting it up with banana-republic warlords.  You've seen him giving the "President of Cool" wink, nod and shout-out to adoring groupies.  You've seen him on The View, yak-yak-ing with Whoopi and Barbara.  You've seen him on Oprah.  You've seen him singing the praises of Solyndra, even as owners prepare to shut it down and laugh all the way to the bank with your millions.

You've see him in all his "Choom Gang" glory announcing this or that czar's plan (You thought he devised the plans?  It's the czars stupid!) to ignore the rule of law and unilaterally bypass democratically-passed statutes.  You've seen him pretending to get Bin Laden all by himself.  You've seen this president pivot to jobs so many times that your head is spinning.  You've seen him role-play a chief executive claiming executive privilege to cover for his Department of Injustice. 

And this now-going-on-four-long-years spectacle of an Eddie Haskell presidency is what it looks like, my fellow Americans -- wait for it -- when a Grand Republic does not want to save itself.  This is what it looks like when a going-on-250-year-old Republic decides to elect a celebrity B.S. artist pretending to be a statesman. 

This is an adolescent block party, not a presidency.

This governance by a committee of nitwits deemed czars, with an actor playing the role of Commander in Chief/Chief Executive of the U.S.A., is nothing but a poseur-presidency for the cosmic-joke record books.  You couldn't make a movie out of it because this truth is too strange to pass the "suspension of disbelief" test for good fiction.

And there is not a single American who was eligible to vote in 2008, who does not bear at least some of the blame for it.

Oh, I can intuit what you patriotic, conservative, McCain/Palin voters are thinking right this minute.

You're probably thinking in terms of those tacky, childish bumper stickers that read:  Don't Blame Me!  I voted for the other guy!   

And you call yourselves patriots?

Oh, please.  That excruciating sound you just heard came from a heavenly realm, where all the millions of Americans who've died to make you free let out one unrestrained, in-perfect-concert, cosmic scream of utter disgust and frustration.

You want to call yourself an American patriot?  Then, speak up now or prepare to perish. 

President Barack Obama has the keys to your kingdom only because too many "patriots" sat on your hands and applied duct tape to your mouths in 2008. 

You went to family gatherings and listened politely to your liberal-ninny wives, daughters, nieces and nephews babble on incessantly about their "Obama crush."  You paid for junior and junior-ette to go to those liberal indoctrination centers, euphemistically called "colleges," to imbibe the Obama Koolaid and you stood around with your mouths agape while they prepared to cast votes that would all-but-kill your own country.  And you said nothing! 

Instead, you went home, got on your PC, went to some conservative chat-room and let off your steam with your flying fingers.  For nothing.

You showed up at dinners and cocktail parties and social gatherings of all kinds, with old friends, and allowed them to prattle on about Barack-this and Barack-that -- his alluring dark skin, his preacher-man voice, his GQ look, his exotic, B.S. "narrative," his cool, his posh -- every single thing about him but his sorry-as-good-for-nothing character and empty resume.  And what did you say to those 52% about to give this poseur the keys to your kingdom?  Nothing!

Instead, you put their 'ittle feelings above your freedom and went home to blast out an email of frustration to your favorite conservative columnist.  Wow.  That's surely the modern equivalent of Paul Revere's courageous ride and crossing the Delaware with dysentery and frost-bitten toes.

Where there's a will, there is indeed a way.

One summer.  Lots of get-togethers to go to.  Lots of Americans to interact with.  Lots of opportunities to put a few grown-up facts to lots of Barack-wasted minds.  Lots of Tea Parties to get involved with.  Lots of pocket-Constitutions to hand out.  Lots and lots and lots of moments not to waste blaming the other guy.

Gotta run now.  There's a neighbor lady two doors down who still thinks Barack is cool and that cool makes a country go, and I'm about to clue her in with the most calmly insulting tirade I can conjure -- over coffee.

Happy hunting, my fellow Americans. 

Oh, but if you don't believe this Republic is worth saving, then just do exactly what you did four years ago and go have a beer while you indulge a long, bitter whine to your choir on the internet.  I'm quite sure our patriot forebears will be mightily impressed with your good intentions.

Kyle-Anne Shiver is a frequently ranting American commoner.  And darned proud of it, too.