Girls Rule: Three Women in the Willard



Connie Mackey and Charmaine Yoest

plotting strategy for world domination

at the Willard in Washington, DC Your Business Blogger is hanging with his favorite peeps at the Willard in Your Nation’s Capital. Where a room goes for four figures.

Actually, the MSRP of a room is only $640, but the mini-bar charges drive the bill deep over the G. Large. I have a weakness for Pringles.

Anyway, the girlfriends took some time out from their Nordstrom’s Support Group Therapy for a relaxing cabal. Charmaine, works for a C-3 and Connie works for a C-4. Sounds explosive.


Julia Ward HoweThey did girl talk at the Willard located across the street from The White House.

They were standing on holy ground.

No, no — I’m not just talking about the Willard lobby.

The hotel is the site where Julia Ward Howe wrote The Battle Hymn of the Republic and published in The Atlantic Monthly in 1862.


The Atlantic Monthly In the early dark days of the Civil War; after Julia watched Union soldiers marching off to face death and eternity.

Julia Ward Howe and her husband, were Abolitionists.

Anti-(slavery) choice.

My favorite line:

As He died to make men holy, let us die to make men free…

Alert Readers will note that most versions today read different. Political Correctness is a cultural infection–

The lyrics were changed sometime after 1960:

As He died to make men holy, let us live to make men free…

Liberal denominations, such as the Unitarians, dropped the Hymn from church hymnals altogether.

Liberals, of course, won’t risk death; nor die for anything, anybody.

And liberals wish to change more than words to songs.

We are fighting a war on terror, a war on our culture. And liberals will lose.

Julia, Connie, Charmaine. Three women in combat. Three women in the Willard.


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Thank you (foot)notes:

Lyrics at the jump.

And visit the VOLuntarilyConservative for his take on lobbyists. A former student of Glenn Reynolds.

Random has more.

The Battle Hymn of the Republic

TWilliam A. Ward (ed.), The American Bicentennial Songbook, Vol. 1 (1770-1870s), New York, NY, 1975, p. 236

Lyrics as reprinted ibid., pp. 236-237;

omitted stanza (in italics) as reprinted in C. A. Brown (revised by Willard A. Heaps), The Story of Our National Ballads, New York, NY, 1960, p. 181

Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord;

He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored;

He hath loosed the fateful lightning of His terrible swift sword;

His truth is marching on.


Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!

Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!

Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!

His truth is marching on.

I have seen Him in the watch-fires of a hundred circling camps;

They have builded Him an altar in the evening dews and damps;

I can read His righteous sentence by the dim and flaring lamps,

His day is marching on.

I have read His fiery gospel writ in rows of burnished steel!

“As ye deal with my contemners, so with you My grace shall deal!

Let the Hero, born of woman, crush the serpent with his heel,”

Since God is marching on.

He has sounded forth the trumpet that shall never call retreat;

He is sifting out the hearts of men before His judgment seat;

Oh, be swift, my soul, to answer Him; be jubilant, my feet!

Our God is marching on.

In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea,

With a glory in His bosom that transfigures you and me;

As He died to make men holy, let us die to make men free!

While God is marching on.


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