We are living in "strange" times America. If our founders and forefathers could come back to life for just one minute they would not recognize the country they gave their lives to build. Yes, we have truly changed. Well, isn’t that what all of us wanted? Change? If you can imagine it create it, fund it and sway the media over to your side, you can conquer a nation. It’s true. The good citizens of America will let you conquer their nation. Without firing a shot.But first, you must achieve two amazing tasks in order to qualify.1] You must first appear on the liberal talk show, The View and make Barbra Walters and Joy Behar blush and call you "sexy."2] Then you must "only" address the liberal news media who voted for you and adore you when giving press conferences.If you can do this, you too could be elected as the leader of the free world! That’s not a joke by the way - That just happened in my country on November 4, 2008.On this day Barack Hussein Obama walked out on stage as the 44th President of The United States of America. A man who had the "Presidential credentials" of a used car salesman.A man who didn’t know the difference between a Brigade or a Battalion. A man who was notorious for his "radical" associations and "shady" background. A man who is a habitual liar.A man with the most liberal voting record on planet Earth just became my President. It was the slickest political scam in U.S. history. And we just sat back and let it happen.Isn’t it funny how everyone else involved in this historic event was vetted thoroughly but our new President wasn’t? That’s strange? Or was it intentional?it’s starting again, America. A revolution is coming soon. Very similar to the Civil Rights marches of the 1960’s. Except this time it’s not from the African-American community or liberal anti-war protesters.This time it’s going to come from young, conservative Republicans. They have power like you wouldn’t imagine. That power is going to be "unleashed" very soon. They will become an unstoppable army in the fight for the survival of America. I will be leading them. Who are they? They are The New & Improved Republicans. Who am I? You will know soon enough?A lady by the name of Sarah Palm recently set fire to an unfocused, exhausted political party- The GOP. I’ll let you in on a little secret. This time you won’t recognize us. We’ll look different We’ll have a polished, sharpened message and we’ll "play for blood." The stakes? The United States of America. Go ahead, try to take it from us. We’re baacckkkk!!

The New & Improved Republican

Look out, Washington!-The GOP is coming back with a vengeance!By Jay Johnson

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2009 Jay Johnson
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4389-6237-5

Contents

Acknowledgments..................................................................................................................xiIntroduction.....................................................................................................................xiiiChapter 1 Holding Hands with the Devil: From liberal to conservative.............................................................1Chapter 2 Three Years in Ireland: The good and the bad...........................................................................25Chapter 3 The Ultimate Magic Trick: Barack Obama used the media to pull off the biggest scam in U.S. history.....................49Chapter 4 New Image of Future Republicans: Fighting the "good" fight.............................................................77Chapter 5 Family & Community: From a conservative view...........................................................................99Chapter 6 Brainwashed America: The Hitler Syndrome...............................................................................117Chapter 7 How Hollywood "Prepped" Us for an African-American President...........................................................131Chapter 8 Crooks R' Us: Why people hate politicians..............................................................................145Chapter 9 The "New" GOP and the Youth Vote.......................................................................................163Chapter 10 Got Freedom?: Why we must shut our liberal media down!................................................................173Conclusion My Message to You America.............................................................................................189Index............................................................................................................................199

Chapter One

Holding Hands with the Devil From liberal to conservative

I should be dead by now. How I've made it this far is an absolute miracle. If you go back in time and look at how I lived my life and the people I associated with, you would think so too.

Most of the people I hung out with in the old days are either locked up, in the cemetery or crippled for life. They had the world in front of them and threw it all away. I chose not to-throw my life away, that is.

I'm old school. What is old school? Well, my friend, if you're not over the age of forty, don't worry about it, you're not in the club. I can remember back when Jimmy Carter was in office and interest rates were at a staggering 20 percent and higher, depending on what you were buying, your credit rating, and where you lived.

I'm going to open your eyes in this chapter and let you take a peek inside the world I used to live in. A world that will blow your mind. A world of debauchery, sex, booze, drugs, money, and nightclubs. A world of fame and fortune. A world of wealth and power. A fantasy world in which most will never live. I've seen it all. I've done it all. It all happened during my thirteen years in the Magic City of Miami. I was an insane liberal. Now I'm a conservative Republican. I'll open your eyes and show you what made me change my life. After you read this chapter, maybe you'll decide to take a better path in life like I did. Those days are over and will never be repeated again.

This book is much more personal than my first book, Wake Up America! You Are Being Destroyed by the Liberal Left. A lot has changed in America in the past five years since Wake Up America! was published. A lot has changed in my life as well.

We're going to go back to the good ol' days and explore the kind of world I grew up in from my birth in the 1960s to our present day. It has been quite a journey. Strap yourself in and get ready for a wild ride. One that will take you from hopelessness and despair to extreme optimism, excitement, and dedication.

My story is an interesting one that most people can relate to. I was born in Rex Hospital in Raleigh, North Carolina, on October 11, 1967. This was a very turbulent time in American history. The Vietnam War was in its infancy, the Civil Rights era was at its peak, and riots all over the nation were taking place. Our nation was at its boiling point, about like it is right now. Yes, those were trying times for everyone with an opinion.

In order to understand who I am and why I became a conservative Republican, we have to travel back in time to the early years of my life and see how my irresponsible, liberal lifestyle almost ended my life. It certainly ended the lives of many of my closest friends. I was lucky.

I grew up as a young child in Raleigh, which is the capital city of North Carolina. Actually, my family lived just down the street from the old State College, which is now North Carolina State University.

My mother and father were in the hairdressing business from 1961 to 1974. In those days, you could actually live in a house and modify it into a salon or barbershop on the side. We rented an old house from Mr. Seymour on the corner of Method Road. My dad converted the front of the house into a beauty shop, and we lived in the back of the house. The living quarters were small. We had two small bedrooms. My sister and I slept in the smaller room, and my mom and dad used the larger bedroom down the hall.

We had one tiny bathroom with rusted pipes poking out everywhere. I remember it well. We had a small backyard with a merry-go-round my dad bought at Sears and Roebuck in 1970. Right out of the catalog. Those were the days.

We didn't have much money, but we really didn't know any better. Times were hard, but as far as I can remember, we were happy. I thought everyone was poor and lived like us. At least from my eyes, that seemed to be the case.

When I was growing up, we didn't get twenty-five toys every Christmas like kids do today. We got two or three toys and that was it. An easy bake oven or a plastic rifle that "clicked" every time you cocked it. I had one and I loved it. When your toys broke down, you had to use your imagination because you wouldn't get another one until the next Christmas came back around. I used to play with old broomsticks and tree branches in the back yard. I can vividly remember running around with them between my legs, pretending it was a horse. Like I said, when you're poor, you have to use your imagination.

My mom and dad worked hard, long hours. I'm talking ten to twelve hours a day. Seven days a week. Saturdays, Sundays. It didn't matter. We needed the money. And this was relentless, back-breaking work. Standing on your feet in one spot all day long. Try it sometime if you don't believe it. Or better yet, just ask your local barber or hairstylist the next time you see them. It's a tough business. You earn every dollar you get. In short, when people called for an appointment to get their hair done, you took them. No questions asked. The rent had to be paid. We sacrificed to make ends meet.

The reason I'm telling you this is for the simple fact that most Americans just don't want to make these sacrifices anymore. They just don't want to work. You couldn't give them a job. We have become an entitlement nation. It's easier to just go down to your local welfare office and collect a check. In those days, that didn't exist. It wasn't that easy.

By 1975, my parents decided that they had enough of the hair business. They were ready to leave Raleigh. The population was growing. The traffic was getting worse. They wanted to give themselves a break from all the congestion.

My mother Diane was born in 1944 and grew up in Raleigh, which is in Wake County. My father Jerry was born in 1937 in Dunn, on the edge of Harnett County. But before we returned back to Dunn to dig in for the long haul, we would go south to the Sunshine State. We packed up and moved to Sarasota, Florida, for a year so my father could enter a vocational school he read about. He wanted another skill. He needed a break and wanted to try something new.

My year in Florida was refreshing. I was seven years old. I distinctly remember the first day at my new school. All the kids had suntans, wore shorts, and spoke funny. It was quite a change. There was a small lake behind the apartment complex we lived in. Every day after school, I would walk down this path of scorching sand to the lake. I loved the smell of the salt in the air. There were shells and sharks' teeth everywhere.

The sun was blistering hot every day. It was great. I really loved Florida and hated when we had to come back to North Carolina. Now the fun was over. I would return back to Florida a few years later for a huge wake-up call. More on that later.

We returned back to Dunn (Harnett County) just before Christmas in 1975. America's Bicentennial celebration was just around the corner, and it was a freezing cold December. Jimmy Carter was going to the White House in January, and the next four years were really going to suck: 20 percent interest rates (and higher), the Iranian hostage crisis, Catholics and Protestants fighting in the streets of Northern Ireland, and long gas lines. I remember it well. I was a young child, but those images on my old Zenith television set are still embedded in my brain to this very day.

After Christmas break, I entered the third grade at a small country school just across the street from my house on the infamous Highway 301. Why is it infamous? Well, there are many reasons. Before Interstate 95 was completed in the 1960s, the only way to get from New York to Florida was on Highway 301.

My father used to tell my sister and me stories from his childhood during the 1940s when those "Yankees" from up North would stop by his grandfather's filling station on Highway 301 to gas up their cars. These travelers would pick a stem of cotton across the road and pay my dad a dime to take their photo while holding up the stem of cotton.

Anyway, getting back to my younger years. My school was Mary Stewart Elementary School. It was at this school that I would make some lifelong friends. Most are no longer with us. They went down the wrong path in life, a path I would find myself going down a few short years later.

But on the playground of this school is where I would meet a lifelong friend, a friend I've known for over thirty-five years, a friend I've always confided in, a little blond-headed boy that to this very day I still call my brother. Not by blood. By the soul. His name is Chad Neighbors. Chad has always had a huge impact on my life. We think the same, we are the same. We just look different. After all these years we still keep in touch. Actually, we are the only two that survived. Everyone else is dead.

Mary Stewart was a great little school. It closed down just a few years later, in 1985. Now it's a chemical supply company. Small communities like the Mary Stewart community are what make America special. Everyone pretty much knows each other in the community.

My great-grandfathers, Guthrie "Mac" McLamb and Zoro Johnson, were wealthy men before the Great Depression (of the early 1930s) destroyed many families and the wealth they worked so hard to build.

If you happen to be from this region of America (Central North Carolina), you will probably remember hearing your grandparents or great-grandparents talk about "Hoover Time" or "the Hoover Days" with a thick Southern accent. Those were very bad times for many Americans, especially if you were a farmer. A lot of people lost everything: their land, their cars, their crops, and their homes. Literally everything. These terrible course of events set the precedence of how my family lives to this very day.

We'll fast forward a few years now to 1980. I was entering Dunn High School as a freshman, and man, was I excited. High school. This was going to be cool! Peer pressure existed back in those days too. Everyone was trying to fit in with the cool students and become part of the "in" crowd. I was no different. I started hanging out with the wrong crowd immediately. I started drinking just to get noticed. You know, to be cool.

I started out smoking a little grass with my friends, and the next thing I knew, I was drinking and smoking grass almost every weekend. Again, just to be "cool."

Dunn was kind of like the town in the film, Footloose. You remember that small town in the film, don't you, America? The local mill in the town had shut down; everyone was out of work. Everyone looked to the local preacher for guidance and so on.

The reason I'm telling you this is because those years were the beginning stages for my liberal attitude towards life. I was definitely going down the wrong road: drinking, drugging, fighting, chasing girls, and trying to be popular. We all did it, America. Or most of us, anyway. The difference is, only some of us admit it. I had no respect for my elders. No responsibilities. I was an ignorant punk going nowhere fast.

When I look back on those days, it's a wonder that I'm still alive. Many of the guys I hung out with in those years had their lives taken at a young age. They all died horrible deaths. Again, that should have woke me up. Unfortunately, it didn't. Those were also terrible years for my parents; I put them through hell.

The next stage in the Johnson family was coming. It was a risky one. My mom and dad had just made the most dangerous gamble of their lives. They took out a large loan in 1976 to build a thirty-bed assisted living facility, or "retirement home" as most folks would call it. Starting a new business was very different in those days.

My dad used the savings he had from all those years of dressing hair in our family salon in Raleigh. He even sold our cars. We had nothing. My dad borrowed an old 1955 Ford truck from my mother's brother-in-law in Raleigh. You could see the ground through the holes in the floorboard. If it wasn't for that old truck, we would have been walking. That's called sacrifice. But that's what capitalists and people who believe in "free markets" do. They make sacrifices for their dreams.

We somehow made it through those years. They were tough years, and we were as poor as a person could get. Not many people know that. We were broke! Everything we had was tied up in this new business. Again, that's called a sacrifice for the American dream. And my mom and dad made it! They had guts.

These days, most people are clueless as to what that really is-Sacrificing. But I have to say our government has a lot to do with that. Nowadays, if you don't want to work for a paycheck, you can just head down to your local Social Services office and make up a sad story, and they'll give you a check. It's really just that simple.

There is no ambition anymore. No incentive to work, to have a dream and lay it all on the line. That used to be the American way. Not anymore.

If you are lucky and happen to get your business to a level where you're making some good money, the Democrats will take it from you. They are notorious for high tax rates. They'll look you right in the eye (yes, you, Joe Biden) and tell you to "cough it up."

Moving closer to my high school graduation, I was starting to feel lost. My grades weren't that great, and I didn't know if I was going to get a job, go to college, or enter the military. I was lost because I had been irresponsible through the most important years in my life mainly due to my poor judgment in friends.

My options were slim. I was dying to get out of Dunn. I decided to call a Navy recruiter to discuss my future in the military. The recruiter said that he would meet me the next day at the McDonald's parking lot on Highway 421 in Dunn. I waited. He never showed up. I would have joined that day. That's how close I came to going into the Navy. I guess it wasn't meant to be.

I was still determined to change my life and get away from all the people I was hanging around with. Some were already heading to jail for multiple DUIs and drug offenses. Some (I found out from my mother) were killed a few years later. One in a bar fight, one from a terrible car accident, three from drug overdoses, one was killed with a shotgun in an argument and on and on. So you see, I understand what a lot of kids are going through these days. I went through it myself. Don't do it. It's just not worth it.

My ordeal was horrific. I needed guidance and I needed it fast. There were no role models in my community. No guidance counselors that were worth a hill of beans.

Anyone who had a halfway decent future staring them in the face got the hell out of Dunn early in life. The only problem was that none of them were coming back to open up businesses after they made their money or obtained their degrees. They moved on to the big cities of America.

I ended up going to summer school so I could get into Mount Olive College in Mount Olive, North Carolina, which is only a short thirty-mile drive from Dunn. It didn't work out. I told my parents that I just didn't like it.

A friend of mine I grew up with had entered a special Army ROTC program at a two-year military commissioning college in Milledgeville, Georgia. He was home in Dunn for the weekend, and I had a chat with him about the possibilities of getting in there. I wanted to try something new. I wanted a challenge! So we drove down to Georgia that next weekend, and I had a look at the school. It was really creepy at first. It was an old Southern-style, stone barracks that still had visible bullet holes in it from when Sherman's union army ransacked it in the American Civil War. The name of the school was Georgia Military College (GMC). I quickly decided that's where I would go.

I got an application and a brochure from the commandant's office. I brought it home and discussed it with my mom and dad. We all decided that this would be the change I was looking for. This decision changed my life forever.

In September of 1986, I was officially a plebe of the 108th cadet battalion at Georgia Military College. Boy, did my life change fast. Military school. Talk about slapping your butt into shape. I wasn't used to being ordered around by another student twenty-four hours a day. But I was tough and dedicated.

You had to ask permission to eat, to sit down; well, you get the idea. It was a military college. They didn't put up with any crap in there. At least, they didn't back in those days. It was hard core. At first I didn't know if I was going to be able to hack it but as soon as I made it to the plebe graduation ceremony (when you officially become a cadet), I felt a certain pride, a belonging that I had never felt before.

When I looked at myself in the mirror and saw myself wearing that uniform, I had to hold back the tears. I looked great. I felt great inside. Finally, I was somebody. I had a purpose.

(Continues...)

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