The Nation Speaks, Government Doesn’t Listen
Even before the ink was dry on the Obama election papers the nation was discontented and began to voice its opinion. It didn’t matter. The Stiff-All-Of-Us Bill was signed anyway. The promises made to post the bill ahead of time for us all to read were not kept. The promise of no earmarks was a farce. The promise of no new taxes for the middle class were a blatant lie. We allowed ourselves to be lulled by the words of a Socialist while the Communist side of his party lined up to take the seats they hold now. Calling Obama’s appointees “czars” could not be more appropriate.
As the months dragged on, our economy went down the toilet to the Chinese. Nothing was done to help this slide that made any sense to an average business person or an educated economist. Why? Because the Administration has no intention what so ever of returning the economy to any standard of any kind. The tactic is to Socialize the entire nation, establish total government control over your health, your children, your money, your speech, your media and your old age. In addition, it doesn’t give a shit what you think about it!
I have always known we were on this slide. I guess I am just shocked at my own acknowledgement that I was right all along. The slide is now getting steeper and faster. Despite the public outcry against Health Care it will get passed. The whole Kennedy Senate Seat Bullshit game was rubberstamped by Deval Patrick. The CIA has become a political pawn of the left. Negotiations with terrorists, setting others free, and deals to nuclear enemies will be the norm.
Tea Parties are charged by the media, with Pelosi on their side, as right wing fanatics. The 9/12/09 march on Washington will be a footnote to the left and it’s State run media. They will not listen to us, they have no intention.
We all saw the evidence unfold before our eyes. The eight years of unabashed rhetoric from the left about out troops, the war, Bush. Lies appeared daily in State run media with no one holding them accountable (save FOX News, who also became a target of the left). Bill Ayers, ACORN, Reverend Wright, Union control of ballots and TARP funds to corporate bonuses and vacations; it was all right in front of our eyes and we ignored it. Last year Massachusetts residents had a chance to end the income tax and we voted it down. This last August 1st a new hike to 6.25% to our sales tax went through without a peep of protest. We allow this to happen. You do realize that the Germans allowed this to happen in 1932. The Russian people allowed this to happen in 1912. The Venezuelan people allowed this to happen, Cubans allowed this to happen.
Honduras was the only nation recently to resist this. President Obama demanded the self imposed President for life of Honduras be returned. Obama called the coup-de-tat(demanded by the people and its Congress) illegal. Chilling that under a Socialist America, speaking out and resisting will be illegal.
It is not going to get any better. I have noticed that FOX News is routinely blocked on Comcast. Commercials run fine, just not the news. ABC will have Obama on for a full hour but will not run a 33 second add denouncing the Health Care Bill. Rush Limbaugh, Bill O’Reilly, Glen Beck, Micheal Graham, Jay Severin, Laura Ingraham and Ann Coulter are all targeted as whipping boys/girls for the State run media. Pelosi called the nation’s citizens Nazis.
Shortly we will become the dead. Our children will become the dying.
…And That Is The Diatribe.
Monday, August 31, 2009
Thursday, August 27, 2009
The Ideology of Senator Ted Kennedy
The Ideology of Senator Ted Kennedy
The news is full of commentators studying the life and legacy of the late Senator Kennedy. Everyone is trying to be polite and parsing their words. It may not be customary to speak ill of the dead however, I for one could care less about perceived hurt feelings. This state has suffered for over forty years under his partisanship and his political necessity to remain in power has done nothing but hurt more Americans than it has helped.
The Senator once gave a speech in which he claimed to be proud to be called a Liberal. He shamefully called upon the ghost of his brother to list the attributes of being a Liberal. The ability to look forward and not behind, to be open to new ideas and not rely on old political mannerisms, to further the cause of the poor and the less fortunate were among the few great qualities his brother held.. Senator Kennedy spent most of his political career thinking only of his seat in Washington, standing in the way of needed political reforms and the downsizing of our government. The flagrant verbal abuse he displayed without regard to Robert Bork, Clarence Thomas and Ronald Reagan were nothing resembling the ideals his brother stood up for.
Senator Kennedy may have done a lot for the mentally ill and the poor in this state in so far as using their plight as a political platform. The truth is he could have given a rat’s ass about any individual suffering any problem. None of initiatives he proposed did anything to solve the problem of homelessness, or poverty. He just made sure more money came out of our pockets to fund them. Every proposal that any other Republican came up with had to pass the Kennedy litmus test. If it did not, good luck getting it passed.
He worked with George Bush on the No Child Left Behind program yet quietly stood by as Liberals lied about how it was never funded. In 1996 after the second Clinton election he spoke of using the peace dividend from the end of the Cold War to reform Social Security. The Senator is on record as saying that within thirty years the Social Security Administration would be broke. Eight years later when George Bush wanted to reform Social Security, claiming the same worries of the Senator. Kennedy went on the record as saying there was nothing wrong with Social Security. His speeches on the floor of the Senate during the Bork nomination hearings warned of a court that denied women abortions, closed the door of the Supreme Court to Americans and a right wing ideology that would cast a shadow far beyond Reagan’s Presidency. The Senator didn’t seem to have a problem with Judge Sotomayor’s ideology.
In an obvious power grab with his Beacon Hill friends, in 2004 he stripped then Governor Romney of a Senate appointment should Kerry win the election. Now in his death, the Senator reaches from the grave and has his buddies on Beacon Hill rubber stamp his request. This move to ensure that Obama’s Socialist take over is complete with a Massachusetts vote of ‘yay’.
The Liberal fawning and syncophanaticism over his death is what Liberals do every day.
Mumbles Menino wouldn’t foot the police detail bills for the Tall Ships this summer, yet the police lined the streets for Ted’s funeral procession. During the Democratic Convention in Boston of 2004 The Senator strong armed contributors and local businesses to foot the bill for Boston. Menino is on record as claiming he was the go-between guy that calmed down the angry constituents. That statement from a recent interview on another talk radio station here in Massachusetts.
Senator Ted Kennedy’s power will be with us for at least another decade. Deval Patrick will appoint a Liberal lacky to rubberstamp all of Obama’s plans. An election will be held but the State run media will only focus on the former seat held by the dearly departed. All funding will go to that candidate, all media attention, all endorsements all the coat tail antics we see every election. Cambridge, Wellesley, Newton will all make sure we stay a one party state. No one will even remember who the other guy was twenty four hours after the final poll closes.
Last but not least. There is always a skeleton in the closet to remember. For the Senator I mean this literally. For all he may have been perceived to have done for this state and this country, he is still responsible for the death of poor Mary-Joe, whose children and future, free of Kennedy influence, never will be.
…..And That Is The Diatribe.
The news is full of commentators studying the life and legacy of the late Senator Kennedy. Everyone is trying to be polite and parsing their words. It may not be customary to speak ill of the dead however, I for one could care less about perceived hurt feelings. This state has suffered for over forty years under his partisanship and his political necessity to remain in power has done nothing but hurt more Americans than it has helped.
The Senator once gave a speech in which he claimed to be proud to be called a Liberal. He shamefully called upon the ghost of his brother to list the attributes of being a Liberal. The ability to look forward and not behind, to be open to new ideas and not rely on old political mannerisms, to further the cause of the poor and the less fortunate were among the few great qualities his brother held.. Senator Kennedy spent most of his political career thinking only of his seat in Washington, standing in the way of needed political reforms and the downsizing of our government. The flagrant verbal abuse he displayed without regard to Robert Bork, Clarence Thomas and Ronald Reagan were nothing resembling the ideals his brother stood up for.
Senator Kennedy may have done a lot for the mentally ill and the poor in this state in so far as using their plight as a political platform. The truth is he could have given a rat’s ass about any individual suffering any problem. None of initiatives he proposed did anything to solve the problem of homelessness, or poverty. He just made sure more money came out of our pockets to fund them. Every proposal that any other Republican came up with had to pass the Kennedy litmus test. If it did not, good luck getting it passed.
He worked with George Bush on the No Child Left Behind program yet quietly stood by as Liberals lied about how it was never funded. In 1996 after the second Clinton election he spoke of using the peace dividend from the end of the Cold War to reform Social Security. The Senator is on record as saying that within thirty years the Social Security Administration would be broke. Eight years later when George Bush wanted to reform Social Security, claiming the same worries of the Senator. Kennedy went on the record as saying there was nothing wrong with Social Security. His speeches on the floor of the Senate during the Bork nomination hearings warned of a court that denied women abortions, closed the door of the Supreme Court to Americans and a right wing ideology that would cast a shadow far beyond Reagan’s Presidency. The Senator didn’t seem to have a problem with Judge Sotomayor’s ideology.
In an obvious power grab with his Beacon Hill friends, in 2004 he stripped then Governor Romney of a Senate appointment should Kerry win the election. Now in his death, the Senator reaches from the grave and has his buddies on Beacon Hill rubber stamp his request. This move to ensure that Obama’s Socialist take over is complete with a Massachusetts vote of ‘yay’.
The Liberal fawning and syncophanaticism over his death is what Liberals do every day.
Mumbles Menino wouldn’t foot the police detail bills for the Tall Ships this summer, yet the police lined the streets for Ted’s funeral procession. During the Democratic Convention in Boston of 2004 The Senator strong armed contributors and local businesses to foot the bill for Boston. Menino is on record as claiming he was the go-between guy that calmed down the angry constituents. That statement from a recent interview on another talk radio station here in Massachusetts.
Senator Ted Kennedy’s power will be with us for at least another decade. Deval Patrick will appoint a Liberal lacky to rubberstamp all of Obama’s plans. An election will be held but the State run media will only focus on the former seat held by the dearly departed. All funding will go to that candidate, all media attention, all endorsements all the coat tail antics we see every election. Cambridge, Wellesley, Newton will all make sure we stay a one party state. No one will even remember who the other guy was twenty four hours after the final poll closes.
Last but not least. There is always a skeleton in the closet to remember. For the Senator I mean this literally. For all he may have been perceived to have done for this state and this country, he is still responsible for the death of poor Mary-Joe, whose children and future, free of Kennedy influence, never will be.
…..And That Is The Diatribe.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
The Purpose of Government Programs
The Purpose of Government Programs
Recently, while studying for an exam, I came across some legislation passed in 1992. It concerned the reduction of lead paint and its removal in homes and residencies. The law is a great law focusing on the safety of apartments and home construction to reduce and eventually eliminate the presence of lead paint that could damage children. Two items in the language of the law stood out. The first was the language that stated that the law could, at any time, add more restrictions without Judicial or Congressional review. The second was the fines that were attached to violators. A violator is defined as any owner/landlord who does not comply with the rules or its amendments as stated in the law.
This made me think of some other laws that allow government, unhindered, to essentially levy fines and create a web of restrictions that grow more intrusive into our lives. The question I raise is, where does this money go?
When I was a painting contractor I was fine $1000.00 dollars by the town of Northborough’s Environmental Agency for not complying with proper paint removal from an old home I was working on. I was summoned to court and ordered to pay a fine of $1000.00. The judge ordered me to have the paint cleaned up by a certified company. This cost me an additional $1000.00.
This was my first experience with the conundrum of: if I have to pay for a service I am being ordered to comply with, why am I being fined on top of it? Does not my fine cover the cost of me having to comply with that which I am ordered to comply with? If not, then where is the money from the fine going to?
Court is the best place to watch this circus. On any given workday the average district court makes between $250-$500 per person, per fine, per offense. If the district court processes twenty people a day that translates into $5000-$10,000 a day give or take a good, or, bad day of perps. In addition, if the perp needs a public defender because he/she is too poor they pay an additional fee for that. Victim witness fees, restraining order fees, probation fees; why do I have to pay the court $65 a month to show up and say I’m being a good boy?
Many forms of legislation that have been passed also seem to consume more money every year and give less service to the nation. The Federal budget for Education is a great example of a leaking bath tub. Under President Bush the Education budget rose about 1/3 every fiscal year. No Child Left Behind was to be a main pillar of government’s role in education. The program never got off the ground. The money allocated in the budgetary supplements for No Child Left Behind were clearly put into the program. Where did the money go?
Communities received their share of money. They built new schools, teacher’s salaries increased, between 2001-2008 over one million families a year were broken up by the new mandated reporting required of teachers, another half million children suddenly were diagnosed as ADD, ADHD, special needs programs had to be introduced. So…I have no idea where the money went. But Liberals loved to shove the Bush educational budget up his ass didn’t they?
Earmarks have nothing to do with the bills they are attached to. They simply drive up the cost of the bill and only slow the effectiveness of the program’s intentions. What does saving The Florida Bullfrog have to do with providing assistance to small businesses. Isn’t that supplement covered under the environmental portion of the general budget? If not, why? If yes, where the hell did the money go?
There is no such thing as “lost money”. Money is either spent, transferred elsewhere for a purpose other than it’s intention, or, stolen. We all are seeing the rise in fees, application costs, registration costs, licensing, being taxed for a car we buy then being taxed because we drive it on the road. Every year we are forced to pay an additional tax to have a little sticker on our windshield that says we are safe to drive. Every year the restrictions get tighter and tighter affecting the poorest among us to no longer afford an automobile.
Then again, maybe that is it. Drive up the cost so much that we no longer are able to afford any of the services we should get for free. Create an elitist system within the social strata that separates the ‘Government Employee’ from citizens. This would help government keep tabs on the haves and havenots.
This has happened before in history. They were called The Politburo and Party Members…Millions starved to death and were persecuted under this great system of government….
….And That Is The Diatribe.
Recently, while studying for an exam, I came across some legislation passed in 1992. It concerned the reduction of lead paint and its removal in homes and residencies. The law is a great law focusing on the safety of apartments and home construction to reduce and eventually eliminate the presence of lead paint that could damage children. Two items in the language of the law stood out. The first was the language that stated that the law could, at any time, add more restrictions without Judicial or Congressional review. The second was the fines that were attached to violators. A violator is defined as any owner/landlord who does not comply with the rules or its amendments as stated in the law.
This made me think of some other laws that allow government, unhindered, to essentially levy fines and create a web of restrictions that grow more intrusive into our lives. The question I raise is, where does this money go?
When I was a painting contractor I was fine $1000.00 dollars by the town of Northborough’s Environmental Agency for not complying with proper paint removal from an old home I was working on. I was summoned to court and ordered to pay a fine of $1000.00. The judge ordered me to have the paint cleaned up by a certified company. This cost me an additional $1000.00.
This was my first experience with the conundrum of: if I have to pay for a service I am being ordered to comply with, why am I being fined on top of it? Does not my fine cover the cost of me having to comply with that which I am ordered to comply with? If not, then where is the money from the fine going to?
Court is the best place to watch this circus. On any given workday the average district court makes between $250-$500 per person, per fine, per offense. If the district court processes twenty people a day that translates into $5000-$10,000 a day give or take a good, or, bad day of perps. In addition, if the perp needs a public defender because he/she is too poor they pay an additional fee for that. Victim witness fees, restraining order fees, probation fees; why do I have to pay the court $65 a month to show up and say I’m being a good boy?
Many forms of legislation that have been passed also seem to consume more money every year and give less service to the nation. The Federal budget for Education is a great example of a leaking bath tub. Under President Bush the Education budget rose about 1/3 every fiscal year. No Child Left Behind was to be a main pillar of government’s role in education. The program never got off the ground. The money allocated in the budgetary supplements for No Child Left Behind were clearly put into the program. Where did the money go?
Communities received their share of money. They built new schools, teacher’s salaries increased, between 2001-2008 over one million families a year were broken up by the new mandated reporting required of teachers, another half million children suddenly were diagnosed as ADD, ADHD, special needs programs had to be introduced. So…I have no idea where the money went. But Liberals loved to shove the Bush educational budget up his ass didn’t they?
Earmarks have nothing to do with the bills they are attached to. They simply drive up the cost of the bill and only slow the effectiveness of the program’s intentions. What does saving The Florida Bullfrog have to do with providing assistance to small businesses. Isn’t that supplement covered under the environmental portion of the general budget? If not, why? If yes, where the hell did the money go?
There is no such thing as “lost money”. Money is either spent, transferred elsewhere for a purpose other than it’s intention, or, stolen. We all are seeing the rise in fees, application costs, registration costs, licensing, being taxed for a car we buy then being taxed because we drive it on the road. Every year we are forced to pay an additional tax to have a little sticker on our windshield that says we are safe to drive. Every year the restrictions get tighter and tighter affecting the poorest among us to no longer afford an automobile.
Then again, maybe that is it. Drive up the cost so much that we no longer are able to afford any of the services we should get for free. Create an elitist system within the social strata that separates the ‘Government Employee’ from citizens. This would help government keep tabs on the haves and havenots.
This has happened before in history. They were called The Politburo and Party Members…Millions starved to death and were persecuted under this great system of government….
….And That Is The Diatribe.
Saturday, August 15, 2009
When Everything Fell Apart
When Everything Fell Apart
It didn’t take that long for it all to finally fall apart. Though the economy had been declining rapidly for some months the bottom seemed still some time away. We knew it would get bad and that we all would adjust, certainly it would not get as bad as it did. Those of us intelligent enough to know our history could conjure up images of ‘The Great
Depression’ from history books and film reels, living this new wave of global demise was not even in our vocabulary.
Everything fell apart. The auto makers went first. I know, some say it was the housing and financial companies but they were somehow separate from the everyday life of Americans. It was the wealthy who lost their money. Once GM, Ford and Chrysler went belly up it was like a bell tolling somewhere. The ripple effect was worse than any stone thrown in any pond, anywhere.
It was no longer companies needing a bailout, it became towns then cities, then whole counties. Eventually it was states. The meltdown spread like a virus in an already ill society taking out anyone and anything it infected. It was only a matter of time before the government stepped in to, well ‘help the nation’. After all we had just elected a new President that we all hoped would be the one to lift this nation. I do not think he, like the rest of us were ready for the Mexico Invasion and the bombing of L.A.
I was struggling myself to stay afloat in the job market. My wife and I both worked and tried to balance our needs and our commitments. Lucky for us we paid rent and had none of the worries of property taxes and mortgages that all went stratospheric. Food and fuel became our main concern and they were nightmares in and of themselves.
Money was actually starting to run out. I do not mean for me and my family, I mean for everyone. America had borrowed so much and the world economy had gone so badly that nations were calling in debts. Everything was on credit and with the crash of Wall Street what was the United States to fall back on? Even our gold reserves were swallowed up by the huge oil producing nations we sucked dry. Timber was worthless because homes were being foreclosed on instead of being built. Steel was mined here but no other nation had a need for the raw material to refine it. No one wanted cars (especially American) because oil was over $250.00 a barrel. The great hope of hydrogen cars and/or electric cars was a myth and when the first few were marketed they were too small, too slow and never lasted on a charge as long as they were billed to. As things got worse cars were literally left abandoned, tanks empty. Those that remained in driveways soon became shelter and were pushed off the lots as more and more homes fell to the banks to eventually be absorbed by the government. Electric companies shut off so much power to homes and companies that could not pay their bills that National Grid had to shut down whole sections of the nation or face operating at a loss. Going green? No one was interested in ‘green technology’ either. When people are concerned about tomorrows dinner they could care less about saving the environment.
Eventually the government just started taking everything over in a futile effort to save what they could of our way of life. It was pointless. We were out of money therefore the government was out of money and our debt was being called in by China and Saudi Arabia. Our way of life was over and the ruse that we were fed as a nation and as a world that “..only government is strong enough to weather this crisis” would destroy everything that used to be and impose upon us something from a frightening, nightmarish science fiction novel.
I will not change the names in this story to (as they say, ‘protect the innocent’). This is the story of us all and anyone reading this can easily interject their own names and families because we are all going through this. No one is innocent from this demise of modern 21st Century life to an almost feudal existence. It is funny, actually, most doomsday scenarios talk of a world in the future and how it moves forward. This is not that story. Everything seems to be going backwards. Everything we do now is like a movie of some western, or historical drama, or an epic about life in 14—whatever. The only difference is the juxtaposing of what we know now slammed into the way things were done centuries ago and what we must face. An oxymoron live and in color.
I remember coming home one day after work. A typical week of hours cut back, customers not calling the business I worked for, to find an empty house. She had left me. What was worse she took our daughter with her. Another man would have been angry beyond control. I understood. We had argued about this before and always she had the last word. She was right anyway. I could not support my family anymore. Going to her father in Arizona would be best. He was secure and had an ample home and Amie would be loved and go to a good school. My only concern was of the recent news reports of gang violence along the southern border by Mexican Drug Cartels. Rebecca’s father lived as a drug and alcohol counselor on the Hopi Reservation and if anyone could protect their land and people who sought shelter there it was her father and the American Indian.. So,..I understood and felt some comfort.
It didn’t change things for me.
I was still poor and trying to make ends meet and, they were not.
The days, weeks and months that followed are dissolved in a blur of everyday life, trying to get on with things that we all dealt with at that time. The first news that shook me into a gut fear was the announcement that all three of the “Big Three” were finished. I was fearful, yet why? I knew this was coming. Maybe, like all Americans, we (I) did not actually believe it would happen.
It did.
I watched the news as if it was 9/11 all over again. One piece of bad news followed by another.
Like an avalanche, the Stock Market crashed from its low of 4000 to ZERO!, in fact it actually went negative! We owed people money! I almost puked with nausea. We were all in deep shit.
The country, need I repeat history, went out of it’s fucking mind!!!
Let me slow down here a minute. Did you, like me, try to place a call that day?..
I thought so.
This was not your typical Market slide. Remember the ‘ripple’ thing I mentioned?
With the last bastion of manufacturing left in the United States now in the toilet it was open house. The White House switch board lit up like Rockefeller Center on December 24th. It was not economists, or other Senators or even citizens. It was investors from every nation we held debt with.
Time to pay up!
The next evidence of ,how should I say, ‘things going wrong’ was when Fox News had the Finance Minister from Saudi Arabia cut into its normal programming. When asked about the events in Detroit he launched into a tirade about America’s war debt in the Middle East and our multi-trillion dollar debt in oil purchases. Normally, we, as viewers would have given him a collective middle finger.
Only this time we could not.
Fox News went dead off the air……..
This brings me back to the phone call. The lines were jammed. How the hell in this modern world of satellites and cell towers every mile could the lines be jammed? Something was not right. I still had my old HP and tried to get Becky on the internet. I was able to ‘send’ a message but the return came back after a few minutes as ‘unable to send’. Tried again..Refresh..Send….wait…’unable to send’.
OK. Don’t panic..I remembered 9/11. We all panicked. We knew things were fucked up and soon they would correct and we could all get hold of those we love and be at ease.
It took eight months before I was able to get any word from Becky and Amie that they were alright and it was in the form of a letter..You remember? Letters?
By this time it had all gone to hell. Airlines were grounded, mass transit had stalled, not a cab anywhere, the telephones worked one day then not. Gas was in serious short supply. Fights had broken out at gas stations and the price ran up to $11:00 a gallon. The National Guard had been called into certain cities. Television; and I think this scared people the most, was still off the air. Only that “BEEEEEEEEEEP” and the station ID on the screen. The postal system still worked and only because the bills now came in tenfold. Letters were all we had. The news we got was months old. My mailman told me that letters were on the bottom of the list of priority mail for now.
Rebecca and Amie were fine for now. The Reservation had always grown food and subsisted on its own for a century. Amazingly, the desert was full of game. As for money, they ran out long ago and Indian entitlements were the equivalent of homelessness anyway. Rebecca worked with the children in a school that Amie attended and everyone just pulled together as Indian tribes had always done.
In the letter I received a picture of Amie, after she turned 13. The letter was posted on the two dollar stamp from six months ago. All I could do was cry.
That’s all I wish to say about this.
My only source of employment had imploded and I was out of work. On a waiting list for benefits I stood little chance of getting I did what I could to eat and survive. My gas and power went off and I just camped out in my apartment. Rent was no longer due because my landlord also was camping out. Bread that cost three dollars on Monday cost eight dollars on Friday.
The rumbling was in the back of my dream. Like a TV left on after you fall asleep affecting the strangeness that are dreams to begin with. The accelerating and decelerating was not rhythmic and eventually woke me up. Thumping sounds next door. Voices. I yawn not even aware..What the hell is the neighbor doing now?
Shit have they started trash removal again? Finally? Did it snow last night? Is that a plow? Where did the town get money to fuel a plow truck?
My kitchen door pounded.
What the fuck?
More pounding.
YEAH, YEAH,YEAH!!! I was already dressed due to the cold and slumped downstairs.
From a time gone I peered out the window towards the kitchen to get a hint of my intruder. I stopped cold in my tracks..
Bradley Fighting Vehicles and Humvees?
At my door was a soldier in modern digital green and gray his M-4 at the ready. I stood back and pulled open the door afraid it would be kicked in at me.
“ Do you own this property sir?” The soldier inquired. Demanded
I lied.
“No..no..I rent here..”. I hadn’t paid rent in months. ‘Whats going….”
The soldier held up his hand and nodded me silent.
“Identification please sir!”
Now where the hell was that? I asked for a minute to look and stepped away from the door. I did not notice the soldier motion to his partner. I opened the desk to find my ID and heard the ‘cluck-clack’ of firearm hardware behind me.
“It’s just my driver’s license”. I said slowly presenting it.
The lead soldier moved under cover from his partner to me and snatched it into his hand. I just stood there and held up mine. Wise thing to do when a US soldier has an M-4 pointed at your head.
II
“Do you have any other ID sir?”
Actually, I did, my old Coast Guard ID and Search and Rescue card I held on to for nostalgia. It was over a year old and past expiration. What the hell it had my info and DOB. I handed it over and the lead soldier exited leaving me under gun point.
Outside I heard radio chatter with my License and CGID numbers called in.
‘Great’, I thought. Past due taxes and child support. This is it..The time passed like eternity.
The lead soldier returned and handed over my cards. Relief.
“Sorry for this, Lieutenant we are doing a sweep of citizens”. Being called LT snapped me into old form.
“What the hell is going on?” I finally asked. The second soldier had shouldered his weapon.
“Mexicans, sir, they came across and invaded from California and Texas in a ‘Hail Mary’ with units of regulars and drug militia”
I froze..Amie..Becky..
“My family..They are on the Hopi Reserv…”
“Southern Watch stopped them cold”. He interrupted, “Border police, National Guard, ranchers. We lost people but the wetbacks scattered”.
I fell into the kitchen chair. Fuck me sideways..
That was all. The soldiers departed and continued on. No gile no fuss. They were soldiers. On to the next mission. God Bless them.
Things got worse. No mail at all. Still no TV. Power..yeah right.. We watched the busses line up for deportation. I did feel sorry for the kids. They, as always, are innocent in any situation like this. The adults did break the law and all I could focus on is what would happen if we did this somewhere else in another nation. We would be lucky to get a bus home and not a firing squad.
People in the neighborhood started food collectives. Growing food. Niel next door got a cow from somewhere and started milking trading milk for, well, anything. We started looking at other areas for a Bull to mate and get more calves. Trees and landscape shrubs started disappearing ending up in wood stoves. Well manicured lawns became farms. I did well pulling siding and framework from empty homes to burn. I would walk miles to the woods in the next town to bow hunt anything that moved. I had always fished and the bounty was plenty. Everyone found their favorite spots. Each time I would cook bass, I would remember Becky.
“I am not eating that”. She would say. Amie would catch the fish but never ate them either.
The funny thing in all this was how people still held on to cars. As if someday things would return. They were covered, locked up, chained, driven round back and hidden. Believe it or not, horses started to appear on the streets. You have to imagine M-1 Abrams Tanks, Humvees and Striker vehicles alongside horses and carts..Almost surreal. Troops were everywhere. Government handouts were a travesty with desperate people clawing at what little came on the one truck for over a thousand people.
Then LA happened.
It had been a good year since I heard anything from my family. As I said, mail was prehistoric slow. All we knew was the military was on alert. We saw it everyday. The old Armory up the street had been turned into a barracks and a perimeter had been set up closing off whole neighborhoods within a half mile radius. I was literally on the edge of that ‘Security Zone’ and watched each morning the convoy move out and rumble down Main Street.
I, actually, was relieved to see them. I believe in our Armed Forces. The past year of daily interaction with them. All of them have families somewhere, hoping, struggling. Our farms had actually been helped by them with seed from UN supplies. We traded small stuff like cigarettes, coffee, MRE’s. The music broadcasted from Humvee loudspeakers, with armed sentries at the perimeter on a Friday night. Niel’s milk was like gold to them. They would even smuggle letters from afar bribing some one somewhere up the chain of command to forward word from families.
I may add here, those who chastised our troops in the war on terror, suddenly understood who and what they were. Neighbors, friends, protectors.
This day was different though. They pulled out early and we did not see them return. People brought out their weapons and set up a citizen’s watch as night fell. It lasted a month.
II.5
It is hard to tell people all the details. This story could get lost with all the, ‘well what happened here?’, what did you do about this?’ We just survived that’s all.. Neighbors started doing things we thought would never happen. We forgot our petty bullshit and banded together. Elderly were helped and we all took turns in that area. Food was harvested from large yards and the school baseball field. We even made a decision to keep the kids happy and kept the park clean and held summer softball games from the equipment we stole from Town Hall. For the first time since I was a kid. Children actually roamed the neighborhood freely and got into trouble riding their bikes and playing in the vacant streets. They biked to the lake and fished and swam and did things that kids should do. Forts, hunting, finding something to smash open. Teenagers no longer bugged by cops.
I remember, in the past, all the worry people had developed about child molesters and predators stealing kids. We kept our kids indoors and heavily supervised. After a few years of this we asked why our kids were couch potatoes..DUH.. Now they did as they pleased and we could see the results. Happy, healthy filthy kids needing a bath from a day of exploring and being who they should be.
We didn’t even worry about other neighborhoods. They were all in the same boat and we all traded and kept relations sane. The school was no longer operational but we used it as a forum to get the parents and kids together to play, learn and have a sense of life going on. Old DVD’s played powered by a generator. The horses and wagons lined up outside the building were a scene from a western.
The army had still not returned and we were very concerned. We knew something was wrong yet had no news at all. All infrastructure was gone. Mail, TV, power, even a simple two way radio was out of the question.. We held a meeting.
It was decided two people would go to Hanscom Field Air Force Base. We saw the jets from time to time and heard the faint staccato of live fire exercises when we traded with the town of Bolton. Hopefully, they would concur what we thought. Some one up there would have an answer.
It didn’t take that long for it all to finally fall apart. Though the economy had been declining rapidly for some months the bottom seemed still some time away. We knew it would get bad and that we all would adjust, certainly it would not get as bad as it did. Those of us intelligent enough to know our history could conjure up images of ‘The Great
Depression’ from history books and film reels, living this new wave of global demise was not even in our vocabulary.
Everything fell apart. The auto makers went first. I know, some say it was the housing and financial companies but they were somehow separate from the everyday life of Americans. It was the wealthy who lost their money. Once GM, Ford and Chrysler went belly up it was like a bell tolling somewhere. The ripple effect was worse than any stone thrown in any pond, anywhere.
It was no longer companies needing a bailout, it became towns then cities, then whole counties. Eventually it was states. The meltdown spread like a virus in an already ill society taking out anyone and anything it infected. It was only a matter of time before the government stepped in to, well ‘help the nation’. After all we had just elected a new President that we all hoped would be the one to lift this nation. I do not think he, like the rest of us were ready for the Mexico Invasion and the bombing of L.A.
I was struggling myself to stay afloat in the job market. My wife and I both worked and tried to balance our needs and our commitments. Lucky for us we paid rent and had none of the worries of property taxes and mortgages that all went stratospheric. Food and fuel became our main concern and they were nightmares in and of themselves.
Money was actually starting to run out. I do not mean for me and my family, I mean for everyone. America had borrowed so much and the world economy had gone so badly that nations were calling in debts. Everything was on credit and with the crash of Wall Street what was the United States to fall back on? Even our gold reserves were swallowed up by the huge oil producing nations we sucked dry. Timber was worthless because homes were being foreclosed on instead of being built. Steel was mined here but no other nation had a need for the raw material to refine it. No one wanted cars (especially American) because oil was over $250.00 a barrel. The great hope of hydrogen cars and/or electric cars was a myth and when the first few were marketed they were too small, too slow and never lasted on a charge as long as they were billed to. As things got worse cars were literally left abandoned, tanks empty. Those that remained in driveways soon became shelter and were pushed off the lots as more and more homes fell to the banks to eventually be absorbed by the government. Electric companies shut off so much power to homes and companies that could not pay their bills that National Grid had to shut down whole sections of the nation or face operating at a loss. Going green? No one was interested in ‘green technology’ either. When people are concerned about tomorrows dinner they could care less about saving the environment.
Eventually the government just started taking everything over in a futile effort to save what they could of our way of life. It was pointless. We were out of money therefore the government was out of money and our debt was being called in by China and Saudi Arabia. Our way of life was over and the ruse that we were fed as a nation and as a world that “..only government is strong enough to weather this crisis” would destroy everything that used to be and impose upon us something from a frightening, nightmarish science fiction novel.
I will not change the names in this story to (as they say, ‘protect the innocent’). This is the story of us all and anyone reading this can easily interject their own names and families because we are all going through this. No one is innocent from this demise of modern 21st Century life to an almost feudal existence. It is funny, actually, most doomsday scenarios talk of a world in the future and how it moves forward. This is not that story. Everything seems to be going backwards. Everything we do now is like a movie of some western, or historical drama, or an epic about life in 14—whatever. The only difference is the juxtaposing of what we know now slammed into the way things were done centuries ago and what we must face. An oxymoron live and in color.
I remember coming home one day after work. A typical week of hours cut back, customers not calling the business I worked for, to find an empty house. She had left me. What was worse she took our daughter with her. Another man would have been angry beyond control. I understood. We had argued about this before and always she had the last word. She was right anyway. I could not support my family anymore. Going to her father in Arizona would be best. He was secure and had an ample home and Amie would be loved and go to a good school. My only concern was of the recent news reports of gang violence along the southern border by Mexican Drug Cartels. Rebecca’s father lived as a drug and alcohol counselor on the Hopi Reservation and if anyone could protect their land and people who sought shelter there it was her father and the American Indian.. So,..I understood and felt some comfort.
It didn’t change things for me.
I was still poor and trying to make ends meet and, they were not.
The days, weeks and months that followed are dissolved in a blur of everyday life, trying to get on with things that we all dealt with at that time. The first news that shook me into a gut fear was the announcement that all three of the “Big Three” were finished. I was fearful, yet why? I knew this was coming. Maybe, like all Americans, we (I) did not actually believe it would happen.
It did.
I watched the news as if it was 9/11 all over again. One piece of bad news followed by another.
Like an avalanche, the Stock Market crashed from its low of 4000 to ZERO!, in fact it actually went negative! We owed people money! I almost puked with nausea. We were all in deep shit.
The country, need I repeat history, went out of it’s fucking mind!!!
Let me slow down here a minute. Did you, like me, try to place a call that day?..
I thought so.
This was not your typical Market slide. Remember the ‘ripple’ thing I mentioned?
With the last bastion of manufacturing left in the United States now in the toilet it was open house. The White House switch board lit up like Rockefeller Center on December 24th. It was not economists, or other Senators or even citizens. It was investors from every nation we held debt with.
Time to pay up!
The next evidence of ,how should I say, ‘things going wrong’ was when Fox News had the Finance Minister from Saudi Arabia cut into its normal programming. When asked about the events in Detroit he launched into a tirade about America’s war debt in the Middle East and our multi-trillion dollar debt in oil purchases. Normally, we, as viewers would have given him a collective middle finger.
Only this time we could not.
Fox News went dead off the air……..
This brings me back to the phone call. The lines were jammed. How the hell in this modern world of satellites and cell towers every mile could the lines be jammed? Something was not right. I still had my old HP and tried to get Becky on the internet. I was able to ‘send’ a message but the return came back after a few minutes as ‘unable to send’. Tried again..Refresh..Send….wait…’unable to send’.
OK. Don’t panic..I remembered 9/11. We all panicked. We knew things were fucked up and soon they would correct and we could all get hold of those we love and be at ease.
It took eight months before I was able to get any word from Becky and Amie that they were alright and it was in the form of a letter..You remember? Letters?
By this time it had all gone to hell. Airlines were grounded, mass transit had stalled, not a cab anywhere, the telephones worked one day then not. Gas was in serious short supply. Fights had broken out at gas stations and the price ran up to $11:00 a gallon. The National Guard had been called into certain cities. Television; and I think this scared people the most, was still off the air. Only that “BEEEEEEEEEEP” and the station ID on the screen. The postal system still worked and only because the bills now came in tenfold. Letters were all we had. The news we got was months old. My mailman told me that letters were on the bottom of the list of priority mail for now.
Rebecca and Amie were fine for now. The Reservation had always grown food and subsisted on its own for a century. Amazingly, the desert was full of game. As for money, they ran out long ago and Indian entitlements were the equivalent of homelessness anyway. Rebecca worked with the children in a school that Amie attended and everyone just pulled together as Indian tribes had always done.
In the letter I received a picture of Amie, after she turned 13. The letter was posted on the two dollar stamp from six months ago. All I could do was cry.
That’s all I wish to say about this.
My only source of employment had imploded and I was out of work. On a waiting list for benefits I stood little chance of getting I did what I could to eat and survive. My gas and power went off and I just camped out in my apartment. Rent was no longer due because my landlord also was camping out. Bread that cost three dollars on Monday cost eight dollars on Friday.
The rumbling was in the back of my dream. Like a TV left on after you fall asleep affecting the strangeness that are dreams to begin with. The accelerating and decelerating was not rhythmic and eventually woke me up. Thumping sounds next door. Voices. I yawn not even aware..What the hell is the neighbor doing now?
Shit have they started trash removal again? Finally? Did it snow last night? Is that a plow? Where did the town get money to fuel a plow truck?
My kitchen door pounded.
What the fuck?
More pounding.
YEAH, YEAH,YEAH!!! I was already dressed due to the cold and slumped downstairs.
From a time gone I peered out the window towards the kitchen to get a hint of my intruder. I stopped cold in my tracks..
Bradley Fighting Vehicles and Humvees?
At my door was a soldier in modern digital green and gray his M-4 at the ready. I stood back and pulled open the door afraid it would be kicked in at me.
“ Do you own this property sir?” The soldier inquired. Demanded
I lied.
“No..no..I rent here..”. I hadn’t paid rent in months. ‘Whats going….”
The soldier held up his hand and nodded me silent.
“Identification please sir!”
Now where the hell was that? I asked for a minute to look and stepped away from the door. I did not notice the soldier motion to his partner. I opened the desk to find my ID and heard the ‘cluck-clack’ of firearm hardware behind me.
“It’s just my driver’s license”. I said slowly presenting it.
The lead soldier moved under cover from his partner to me and snatched it into his hand. I just stood there and held up mine. Wise thing to do when a US soldier has an M-4 pointed at your head.
II
“Do you have any other ID sir?”
Actually, I did, my old Coast Guard ID and Search and Rescue card I held on to for nostalgia. It was over a year old and past expiration. What the hell it had my info and DOB. I handed it over and the lead soldier exited leaving me under gun point.
Outside I heard radio chatter with my License and CGID numbers called in.
‘Great’, I thought. Past due taxes and child support. This is it..The time passed like eternity.
The lead soldier returned and handed over my cards. Relief.
“Sorry for this, Lieutenant we are doing a sweep of citizens”. Being called LT snapped me into old form.
“What the hell is going on?” I finally asked. The second soldier had shouldered his weapon.
“Mexicans, sir, they came across and invaded from California and Texas in a ‘Hail Mary’ with units of regulars and drug militia”
I froze..Amie..Becky..
“My family..They are on the Hopi Reserv…”
“Southern Watch stopped them cold”. He interrupted, “Border police, National Guard, ranchers. We lost people but the wetbacks scattered”.
I fell into the kitchen chair. Fuck me sideways..
That was all. The soldiers departed and continued on. No gile no fuss. They were soldiers. On to the next mission. God Bless them.
Things got worse. No mail at all. Still no TV. Power..yeah right.. We watched the busses line up for deportation. I did feel sorry for the kids. They, as always, are innocent in any situation like this. The adults did break the law and all I could focus on is what would happen if we did this somewhere else in another nation. We would be lucky to get a bus home and not a firing squad.
People in the neighborhood started food collectives. Growing food. Niel next door got a cow from somewhere and started milking trading milk for, well, anything. We started looking at other areas for a Bull to mate and get more calves. Trees and landscape shrubs started disappearing ending up in wood stoves. Well manicured lawns became farms. I did well pulling siding and framework from empty homes to burn. I would walk miles to the woods in the next town to bow hunt anything that moved. I had always fished and the bounty was plenty. Everyone found their favorite spots. Each time I would cook bass, I would remember Becky.
“I am not eating that”. She would say. Amie would catch the fish but never ate them either.
The funny thing in all this was how people still held on to cars. As if someday things would return. They were covered, locked up, chained, driven round back and hidden. Believe it or not, horses started to appear on the streets. You have to imagine M-1 Abrams Tanks, Humvees and Striker vehicles alongside horses and carts..Almost surreal. Troops were everywhere. Government handouts were a travesty with desperate people clawing at what little came on the one truck for over a thousand people.
Then LA happened.
It had been a good year since I heard anything from my family. As I said, mail was prehistoric slow. All we knew was the military was on alert. We saw it everyday. The old Armory up the street had been turned into a barracks and a perimeter had been set up closing off whole neighborhoods within a half mile radius. I was literally on the edge of that ‘Security Zone’ and watched each morning the convoy move out and rumble down Main Street.
I, actually, was relieved to see them. I believe in our Armed Forces. The past year of daily interaction with them. All of them have families somewhere, hoping, struggling. Our farms had actually been helped by them with seed from UN supplies. We traded small stuff like cigarettes, coffee, MRE’s. The music broadcasted from Humvee loudspeakers, with armed sentries at the perimeter on a Friday night. Niel’s milk was like gold to them. They would even smuggle letters from afar bribing some one somewhere up the chain of command to forward word from families.
I may add here, those who chastised our troops in the war on terror, suddenly understood who and what they were. Neighbors, friends, protectors.
This day was different though. They pulled out early and we did not see them return. People brought out their weapons and set up a citizen’s watch as night fell. It lasted a month.
II.5
It is hard to tell people all the details. This story could get lost with all the, ‘well what happened here?’, what did you do about this?’ We just survived that’s all.. Neighbors started doing things we thought would never happen. We forgot our petty bullshit and banded together. Elderly were helped and we all took turns in that area. Food was harvested from large yards and the school baseball field. We even made a decision to keep the kids happy and kept the park clean and held summer softball games from the equipment we stole from Town Hall. For the first time since I was a kid. Children actually roamed the neighborhood freely and got into trouble riding their bikes and playing in the vacant streets. They biked to the lake and fished and swam and did things that kids should do. Forts, hunting, finding something to smash open. Teenagers no longer bugged by cops.
I remember, in the past, all the worry people had developed about child molesters and predators stealing kids. We kept our kids indoors and heavily supervised. After a few years of this we asked why our kids were couch potatoes..DUH.. Now they did as they pleased and we could see the results. Happy, healthy filthy kids needing a bath from a day of exploring and being who they should be.
We didn’t even worry about other neighborhoods. They were all in the same boat and we all traded and kept relations sane. The school was no longer operational but we used it as a forum to get the parents and kids together to play, learn and have a sense of life going on. Old DVD’s played powered by a generator. The horses and wagons lined up outside the building were a scene from a western.
The army had still not returned and we were very concerned. We knew something was wrong yet had no news at all. All infrastructure was gone. Mail, TV, power, even a simple two way radio was out of the question.. We held a meeting.
It was decided two people would go to Hanscom Field Air Force Base. We saw the jets from time to time and heard the faint staccato of live fire exercises when we traded with the town of Bolton. Hopefully, they would concur what we thought. Some one up there would have an answer.
Part III
The meeting was long .No one had any information. We all went off of gossip and what we saw that day the Army pulled out. The Sergeant and his assistant left behind at the garrison attended and tried to establish calm. He was inundated with questions. Poor bastard, some 20-something Staff Officer supposed to have all the answers. I tried to remain silent. Listening before I spoke out.
“ Other communities may have some insight”. I said loudly.
The crowd quieted. Turned. Now I am on the spot.
“We..We should go out and find out more info on this..Something must have happened. But I do not think it is so bad that we are in danger. Well, any more than we have been this last year.”
“We have agreed that a team should go on horseback to Hanscom and try..” Said one.
“Where are the other leaders from Hudson?’ Asked another.
“..All the other towns?’.. The noise rose again with questions..
“Refugees from Boston are heading west..we can’t…”
“The gun shops are empty..We only have so much amm…”
I looked over at the Sergeant,quietly I said; “What do you know? I know you have coms. What is going on?”
We both pulled away.
“All the fucking cops are gone, fire and rescue have taken all the shit for their own families. Your own experience makes you and me the head of household, get it? I got a bunch of military retirees and ex-Homeland Security to help me.” I nodded. I understood his dilemma.
“Shit, I could get Court for this..What the hell..” I put my hand on his shoulder.
“Sergeant, it is all over, I know..Just tell me”. I could see his face crumble. Poor kid, God bless him.
“LA was nuked..Fucking nuked by that Kim-Fuck-Asshole. They saw us as weak and time to strike.”
“Please tell me we responded.” I said, I was pissed.
“…They’re toast.”
All I could do was pat him on the shoulder. I thought of the North Korean children and South Korea..Oh shit, oh shit this is it.
“China is mobilizing but they know why we did it, they’re just ramping up just in case.”
“They know we don’t want to invade China.” I said
“According to intell I get, and it is little, they’re worried about Japan.”
I could completely understand. Japan will go ape shit on their ass if they make a move to Taiwan and the China Sea. Any one remember WWII?
It took me a few minutes. The rancor in the crowd was a dull roar. I thought quickly, turned to the Sergeant.
“You, and I are going to Hanscom.” His face snapped out of it’s trance.
“I…I..”
“No..no..We are going. Trust me. Hold on.”
I turned to the meeting. “Every one..Every one!” The crowd settled “..Sergeant Jackson and I will go to Hanscom. Niel, you are a former Marine Captain and Jackson and I have agreed that you will commandeer the Humvee left here to guard the town while we are gone.” my arm. Poor kid, he just sat down. Niel was former Desert Storm Vet..No one better. Besides his cow was now going to birth and we needed milk and a competent person in charge.
“How will you get there?” A voice said.
I looked around the crowd, found my answer.
“Mike? I reframed and sided your barn this summer, I am calling in my pay.’
I got two males I can give you fully rigged.”. Deal set. I turned to Jackson.
“I want to go to the garrison we need some stuff.”
Jackson nodded, he understood.
Jackson tried to step forward in protest.
The meeting was long .No one had any information. We all went off of gossip and what we saw that day the Army pulled out. The Sergeant and his assistant left behind at the garrison attended and tried to establish calm. He was inundated with questions. Poor bastard, some 20-something Staff Officer supposed to have all the answers. I tried to remain silent. Listening before I spoke out.
“ Other communities may have some insight”. I said loudly.
The crowd quieted. Turned. Now I am on the spot.
“We..We should go out and find out more info on this..Something must have happened. But I do not think it is so bad that we are in danger. Well, any more than we have been this last year.”
“We have agreed that a team should go on horseback to Hanscom and try..” Said one.
“Where are the other leaders from Hudson?’ Asked another.
“..All the other towns?’.. The noise rose again with questions..
“Refugees from Boston are heading west..we can’t…”
“The gun shops are empty..We only have so much amm…”
I looked over at the Sergeant,quietly I said; “What do you know? I know you have coms. What is going on?”
We both pulled away.
“All the fucking cops are gone, fire and rescue have taken all the shit for their own families. Your own experience makes you and me the head of household, get it? I got a bunch of military retirees and ex-Homeland Security to help me.” I nodded. I understood his dilemma.
“Shit, I could get Court for this..What the hell..” I put my hand on his shoulder.
“Sergeant, it is all over, I know..Just tell me”. I could see his face crumble. Poor kid, God bless him.
“LA was nuked..Fucking nuked by that Kim-Fuck-Asshole. They saw us as weak and time to strike.”
“Please tell me we responded.” I said, I was pissed.
“…They’re toast.”
All I could do was pat him on the shoulder. I thought of the North Korean children and South Korea..Oh shit, oh shit this is it.
“China is mobilizing but they know why we did it, they’re just ramping up just in case.”
“They know we don’t want to invade China.” I said
“According to intell I get, and it is little, they’re worried about Japan.”
I could completely understand. Japan will go ape shit on their ass if they make a move to Taiwan and the China Sea. Any one remember WWII?
It took me a few minutes. The rancor in the crowd was a dull roar. I thought quickly, turned to the Sergeant.
“You, and I are going to Hanscom.” His face snapped out of it’s trance.
“I…I..”
“No..no..We are going. Trust me. Hold on.”
I turned to the meeting. “Every one..Every one!” The crowd settled “..Sergeant Jackson and I will go to Hanscom. Niel, you are a former Marine Captain and Jackson and I have agreed that you will commandeer the Humvee left here to guard the town while we are gone.” my arm. Poor kid, he just sat down. Niel was former Desert Storm Vet..No one better. Besides his cow was now going to birth and we needed milk and a competent person in charge.
“How will you get there?” A voice said.
I looked around the crowd, found my answer.
“Mike? I reframed and sided your barn this summer, I am calling in my pay.’
I got two males I can give you fully rigged.”. Deal set. I turned to Jackson.
“I want to go to the garrison we need some stuff.”
Jackson nodded, he understood.
Jackson tried to step forward in protest.
Part III—IV
It took a few seconds but the locks unhinged and fell open. The clank of the steel echoed in the hall of the old Armory. Doors swung open. Like a treasure chest from days of old. There it stood. The Armory.
“ I am going to get my ass canned for this.” Jackson said.
Niel and I slapped him on the back and told him to shut up. We went in.
“ You want to go mobile.” Said Niel. “Small arms, take an M-16.” He pulled out clips full as he tapped them on the wall to make sure.
As silly as it may sound I dressed in my old Camo with my CAP insignia and strap packs for Search and Rescue. This time they would hold food, water, first aid and ammo for our ride. I knew where I was going, no need for GPS this time.
Niel pulled out a 203 to attach to his M-16..
Jackson pointed, “Ah, I don’t think..”
Niel loaded it and gave Jackson a ’look’.
“OK..Ahh what the hell..Jesus Christ..”
We all loaded up. Even Jackson gave up and got ready. We were on a mission and we all got prepared.
Niel also took several boxes for the 50 Cal on the Humvee. Jackson just waved him off. I took the keys and gave them to Niel.
We gave a shake and held eyes. I hope to see you soon my friend…
Winter was not yet ready to let go. Streets no longer were plowed so we slogged through the back roads. All major highways were blocked and patrolled by town security and ad-hock police patrols. Jackson was from Worcester and was city raised. He was nervous every time I took a trail through the woods. Especially if I was making it myself.
The horses were as good as Mike’s word. Full males and strong. Carried our sleeping and camping gear for two nights with no effort. By car the trip would only be an hour going north on Rt. 495. Things were different now, we had to take the back roads and forest trails by horse. That translates into one day to your destination. One day to gather that information. Still yet, one more day to get back home, the same way, unless we met any one who wanted to steal our gear. Welcome to the days of yore.
Late spring snow met our faces.
“So much for Global Warming.” That was me.
Rt. 85 north was blocked at the Rt. 117 intersection by militia. We showed what ID we had and thankfully Jackson got some balls, they let us through, so we trekked east and north through the backroads and woods to come up through Stow and Harvard Mass.
I remembered the old museum at Fruitland’s in Harvard Mass., we decided to camp just west of it in the valley looking north-west to Mt. Wachusett. As we rode into the night valley we could see the flights coming in and out of Hanscom.
The airstrip still was more north and east our site along the I 495 corridor. We had a great vantage point looking down the valley. C-130’s, Galaxies, Star lifters, they all cruised in from the west and sloped around the hills to land. The valley roared with the jet wash.
We set camp in some one’s back yard. Once a third of a million dollar home now empty, grass overgrown. I thought of the many times I would see landscapers on their deck mowers grooming the lawn..No more. The entire street we came down was empty, overgrown.
“Why do you think so many flights here to central Mass?” I asked, adjusting my binoculars.
“Inland flights away from the coastal bases..Just in case.” Jackson was setting up the tent.
“Hey, why don’t we just kick in the door and sleep in the house?” Jackson asked.
“It’s some one’s house.” I said and focused in on an outgoing flight.
Mmmmmm ..Star lifters come in and C-130’s pull out going every which way.
It took a few seconds but the locks unhinged and fell open. The clank of the steel echoed in the hall of the old Armory. Doors swung open. Like a treasure chest from days of old. There it stood. The Armory.
“ I am going to get my ass canned for this.” Jackson said.
Niel and I slapped him on the back and told him to shut up. We went in.
“ You want to go mobile.” Said Niel. “Small arms, take an M-16.” He pulled out clips full as he tapped them on the wall to make sure.
As silly as it may sound I dressed in my old Camo with my CAP insignia and strap packs for Search and Rescue. This time they would hold food, water, first aid and ammo for our ride. I knew where I was going, no need for GPS this time.
Niel pulled out a 203 to attach to his M-16..
Jackson pointed, “Ah, I don’t think..”
Niel loaded it and gave Jackson a ’look’.
“OK..Ahh what the hell..Jesus Christ..”
We all loaded up. Even Jackson gave up and got ready. We were on a mission and we all got prepared.
Niel also took several boxes for the 50 Cal on the Humvee. Jackson just waved him off. I took the keys and gave them to Niel.
We gave a shake and held eyes. I hope to see you soon my friend…
Winter was not yet ready to let go. Streets no longer were plowed so we slogged through the back roads. All major highways were blocked and patrolled by town security and ad-hock police patrols. Jackson was from Worcester and was city raised. He was nervous every time I took a trail through the woods. Especially if I was making it myself.
The horses were as good as Mike’s word. Full males and strong. Carried our sleeping and camping gear for two nights with no effort. By car the trip would only be an hour going north on Rt. 495. Things were different now, we had to take the back roads and forest trails by horse. That translates into one day to your destination. One day to gather that information. Still yet, one more day to get back home, the same way, unless we met any one who wanted to steal our gear. Welcome to the days of yore.
Late spring snow met our faces.
“So much for Global Warming.” That was me.
Rt. 85 north was blocked at the Rt. 117 intersection by militia. We showed what ID we had and thankfully Jackson got some balls, they let us through, so we trekked east and north through the backroads and woods to come up through Stow and Harvard Mass.
I remembered the old museum at Fruitland’s in Harvard Mass., we decided to camp just west of it in the valley looking north-west to Mt. Wachusett. As we rode into the night valley we could see the flights coming in and out of Hanscom.
The airstrip still was more north and east our site along the I 495 corridor. We had a great vantage point looking down the valley. C-130’s, Galaxies, Star lifters, they all cruised in from the west and sloped around the hills to land. The valley roared with the jet wash.
We set camp in some one’s back yard. Once a third of a million dollar home now empty, grass overgrown. I thought of the many times I would see landscapers on their deck mowers grooming the lawn..No more. The entire street we came down was empty, overgrown.
“Why do you think so many flights here to central Mass?” I asked, adjusting my binoculars.
“Inland flights away from the coastal bases..Just in case.” Jackson was setting up the tent.
“Hey, why don’t we just kick in the door and sleep in the house?” Jackson asked.
“It’s some one’s house.” I said and focused in on an outgoing flight.
Mmmmmm ..Star lifters come in and C-130’s pull out going every which way.
rt V.
Jackson finally fell asleep. I had stoked the fire and adjusted the wind break to steer the heat towards the tent. Maybe it was the turkey MRE with its latent triptophan that took him out. He was used to a heated barracks and a Humvee to take him around, not a twelve hour horseback ride in the snow. I could not sleep. The jet roar continued. The horses were restless. I took the Army rationed shovel from Jackson’s pack and, well, broke into the house after all.
What a different world I entered. Silent, abandoned, frost on all the walls and floors. Crunch of my feet echoed.
I broke in from the back through the basement area. I made my way up the stairs to the garage first to open the door..Oh that’s right..An electric garage door opener..Shit..Release the catch..Ok..Now open..Then I noticed the car, whew! BMW 320I.
The door slid heavily, snow had gathered at the door front. I went out and tethered the horses and led them up to the front of the driveway. No need to secure them as I pulled the garage door down. Some how they understood and just snorted and shook off the snow they had gathered on their coats.
“Shhh”. I patted them both. “Let see what we got”.
The main door to the house was bolted, no problem, pried open with the shovel.
An amazing kitchen, all oak wood, glass front doors, marble counters, Moen faucets on the sink..Tried it..No water. I opened the fridge. Remains of a lettuce head and some old tomatoes but nothing at all.
“Well horses here we go”.
The stallions relished the meal as frugal as it was. I wiped off the remaining snow melt with rags I found in the garage and resumed my haunting.
I didn’t know what I wanted to find. Some perverse sense of intrigue kept me opening doors and looking through things. This was once a home and a family and what was I doing here? Clothes were still in the drawers and closets, the beds were empty of blankets and coverings, most likely to cover this family on their own search for something better.
Why have these people left and so many of us stayed to survive? What happened…? Then I turned and saw the dresser. The photo frames of the family left behind. I looked over them, family parties, softball games, children, memories, the children. The children. Amie..Becky.. They may have only been photos of some one else’s life. They may have been my own anyway. They were back at the apartment on my own dresser! Damn!! Oh so stupid!! I had to get to Amie and Becky no matter what!
I ransacked the house, anything we could carry. The sun was soon to rise and we had to get to that airstrip and find out what was going on. My mission had changed though. I wanted to get to my family.
I gathered some matches in a drawer and left over canned goods and headed for the garage. Wait!..Voices, shouting! The Army! Yes they will take me…..
It was not the Army. It was not the Army at all.
They had dragged Jackson from his slumber and tossed the tent into the fire. The flames illuminated the whole back yard. Three men with rifles at his point. Jackson was dumbfounded shouting any answer the gun men barked at him. I slung out my M-16 and checked the clip. Full. Drew back the breach and stood back from the window looking into the back yard.
‘Not the horses..Not the horses..’ I kept saying in my mind.
One of the three men motioned to another towards the house. Game over. Time to party!
I moved forward and took aim…
Glass shattered in front of me. One down. Jackson dove. I lined up the next one running..POUMP! POUMP!..He fell into the brush. The third? SHIT!!!
Shots fired!.
“Jackson”!!! I raced down the stairs, forward sites ready!
I got to the back door I broke into. M-16 raised I kicked it open. The body slumped into the threshold of the door. Whew!..Ok he is dead..
I crept out, remembering my old X-Box Rainbow games checking all around for anything and any one.
“JACKSON?’
“Yeah, here”.
He was in the snow laying cramped in the glow of the fire.
“Got that last motherfucker!”. His 9mm side arm laid in blood next to him.
Part V-VI
I ran to him still scoping the upper deck of the house and the grounds.
“Where is it, Jackson?” I said “Where are you hit?”
‘Ahh..shit. shoulder, I, I, think”.
I was a nervous wreck, still scanning and trying to roll that poor kid over so I could see his wound. It was his upper chest.
“Breathe for me and spit”
Inhale, cough, he spit. No blood. Thank God.
“ I fell…I fell asleep, where, where are the horses, I don’t see the horses.”
“They’re in the garage, they are fine, hang on. Where is the med kit?” He pointed to our packs stored under the deck.
“You broke in anyway you asshole?”
“Yes, I broke in anyway.” I stripped open the kits and tore open gauze pads. True as a soldier he was, he held the pressure on those pads. I reached behind his shoulder. Felt wet ooze.
“ I think it went through.” I said
“Betcha, the back looks worse..” Jackson slumped in my arms. Ok..Ok, inside, I need him inside so I can see what is wrong. The snow was coming on strong now and I needed to get him in. I slung the med kit pack over my shoulder. Jackson was still half in his sleeping bag. Poor bastard barely got a chance to get out of it. They must have dragged him out bag and all from the tent.
I just grabbed the sleeping bag and let his body slink into it as I dragged it. I dragged it over the dead body in the basement door and into the cellar. Dark as shit I kicked my way through whatever was on the floor and found a table, or, workbench, whatever the hell it was. It was now an operating table. I pulled the glow tubes from my pants and cracked them.
‘You know what the hell your’ doin?”
“No, but I’m the best chance you’ve got buddy.”
His shoulder was definitely broken, but he wasn’t bleeding internally. That was the good part. I just had to sew his back up and stop the bleeding from the blow out of the bullet. This operation lasted over an hour.
Jackson passed out during my stitching. I kept him warm and his head up to shunt the blood away from the wound. I waited another long hour and started a fire in the fireplace to melt snow and wash his wound and wet his mouth for hydration. Finally, he woke up.
“Fuck.”
That was the most positive thing I could ever hope to hear.
“How do you feel?”
“Like Shit.”
“Want an MRE?”
“No.”
“ I am going to give you something.”
“A naked brunette?”
“Ahh, mmmm, no, ahh something to help you sleep and hold off infection”. What a thing to say, I knew he would be ok from that response only if… I didn’t wait, I stabbed a surrette into his neck and his eyes glazed. His torso was wrapped up in gauze and almost mummified.
“Mmmmm, Combat Injury Cocktail..”
He was right. A combination of antibiotics, and pain killers. Jackson dozed off mumbling an old Springsteen song
“…dddoonnnn..somee..where ona last trans..pooww..drive..”
Time to get to work. I had to get Jackson to Hanscom. I had to get to my family.
I went back to the garage. The horses had shit on the floor, oh well, welcome to life. I eyed the BMW. Why would they leave that here? Where are the keys? I didn’t think to look for keys. Think. Think. People hide things in the most obvious place to avoid being found..Mmmm.. Where are those keys?
I walked over to the car and tried the door. It opened.
God Damn!!..
I looked in all the usual spots. The visor, the glove box, under the seat. Nothing. I looked out the windshield toward the garage work bench. Several jars and cans of screws, nuts and bolts. I spilled them onto the floor; nothing..Shit!!
I sat back into the car. Think, think, think!
I pulled down the rearview to bitch at myself. There it was. The child seat in the back. I spun around and tore at the bottom of it and felt that familiar metal and the jingle.
Fucking-A-Yeah!!
I started the car. Gas gauge slammed to full and the “All Wheel Drive” light flashed ready to engage. The horses startled and pounded the garage floor. I shut off the car and pocketed the keys. DO NOT LOSE THESE KEYS!!!
I opened the garage door. Then I had a stark realization. There was over a foot of snow in the driveway. Even though the roads were windswept and clear in some areas, this driveway was buried. I was going no where if I did not get it cleared.
I spent another hour shoveling.
By now it was Eight O’clock in the morning and the sky was clear. Time to get Jackson into the car. I was exhausted. We were two days over what we estimated and I had a wounded soldier on my hands.
Damn he was heavy. I did the Fireman’s rescue with him over my shoulder. ”I am waayy too old for this shit..” Into the back seat he went, sorry car seat, toss your ass to the floor.
I gathered the sleeping bags and covered Jackson. The med kit, MRE’s, saddle bags all went into the trunk. I gathered every thing we had that would fit. Yeah, foreign cars are awesome but you can’t haul shit with them. What I would give for a Jeep, Chevy Truck or a Lincoln Navigator. Go ahead, laugh. When the end of the world comes you too will want a huge SUV.
Now, the horses, what to do about them.
The garage doors were open. I untied them, dropped the saddles and opened an MRE of cookies and gave them melted snow water. After a few minutes I did the “chck—chck” call and they turned out into the driveway.
They knew, animals are smart. They snorted in the cold and nudged me as I patted them. I took their reins so they both looked at me.
“Go home!. Go find home.” I pointed south. “Go find Mike. Go find Mike..” I pointed again
I went behind the horses. Here we go. “Go home!, find Mike!” I slapped them both and hollered. Off they ran. Believe it, or not, they took a right at the end of the driveway and headed fucking South. BMW drive time..
The car was awesome. The sun was out, cold, crisp. Great day for an All Wheel Drive in the snow with a stolen luxury car!
Part VI
Well, we headed out done the road. I kept it in 2nd gear so the tires would grab and the car would respond to the mess ahead of me. Where the snow drifts had opened I drove through, sometimes on some one’s lawn. There were cars parked and abandoned, doors open, snow gathering in the interiors, empty houses, some burned, I even saw a couple people who stayed in their homes trying to shovel. I just kept driving past the amazed stares of a car that worked and had gas. Trees looked as they always do after a snow fall; absolutely beautiful. After about twenty minutes I arrived at the overpass to Route 2. There was the sign. “Hanscom AFB”.
The amazing thing was how the snow was packed solid. Apparently other people got the same idea and traveled this way. The snow was packed down solid from feet, carts, horses (piles of horse shit in the road) and whatever they could find to travel in and I was able to just drive over the 1-2 feet of packed snow with the car.
Jackson came to life. “How the hell did you get a car?”
“I stole it.”
“So, what was all that about, ’some one’s house’ ?”
“ You’re a soldier. Contingency plans, we had contact with the enemy so we killed them and had to change our tactics.” Jackson just laughed. I did too. It felt good. We actually laughed for a few minutes at the crazy situation we were in.
The road got a little more crowded with debris. Cars were abandoned, carts, piles of belongings. Jackson sat up. He ignored my concerns for him. I had to do a slalom in the snow with the Beemer finding my way through the ever growing pile of human leavings. Smoke and helicopters were in the distance.
“We are close.” Jackson said.
“ Yeah, who the fuck are all these people?”
“Refugees, remember the planes?”
“What are they all doing here?”
“Something is going on.” Jackson sat up more.
Ahead was a sentry patrol. Two Humvees and a bunch of soldiers dressed in winter cammo with M-4’s and one in a turret with a Mark-4 grenade launcher. They waved us to slow and stop.
A Corporal came to the car.
“Sorry folks, refugees have a 48 hour wait unti…..”
Jackson hit the window button and handed out his ID. The Corporal snapped to attention.
“I’m shot.” That’s all Jackson said.
“Sir!, yes Sir!” The Corporal moved of to a Humvee and pulled out a phone.
“Stick with me, you’ll go places.” Jackson patted the back of my seat with his good arm.
The thud grew louder and soon a CH-60 with a huge red + on the side was drifting snow everywhere as it landed in the median beside where we stopped. Medics poured out with a stretcher. I got out and opened the back door to the Beemer.
Jackson limped out and leaned to the Medics. “He comes with us!” Pointing to me. They nodded. Jackson got comfortable and we all trotted, heads low to the chopper.
The Blackhawk went straight up and high. Jackson took a cigarette from a Medic (go figure). Another checked his wounds and commented to me on my stitching. The chopper leaned forward, I looked out the window. Below was a trail all along the highway of Route 2 of people, cars, tents, human waste, smoke and debris. All of them trying to get out. I looked south and thought I saw two horses running along Route One-Eleven. We flew on to Hanscom. I fell asleep.. I fell deeply asleep.
What a great dream. Amie was playing softball with her team. She clocked one out into center field, the center fielder missed so Amie got a double. Then ,strangely, she left the plate and came towards me. What the? ’Amie? You still have a play?’
‘Dad.’
‘Yeah.’
‘Dad.
‘Amie,get back in..’
“ DAD!”
“Dad, wake up!.”
I opened my eyes to the most beautiful young women God ever put on this Earth.
“Dad! Hello?”
My eyes went wide. Where..what..”Amie?’ Behind her a well dressed Officer.
“Mister Maider, I am Colonel MacKensie, are you awake Sir?”
I sat up. Amie?. I grabbed her and cried. Amie just held me and tried to mediate. Strong girl.
“Dad, the Colonel has to talk to you .Yes I am here.”
‘Where’s you’re Mother?”.
“She has class and the hospital so she sent me.”
I looked at her, No, she was not the child that went away anymore. She was a young woman and could hold her own now. Thank You Rebecca. Thank you Rebecca.
“Mister Maider.” Said the Colonel. I looked up.
“ Thank you for bringing one of our’s home safe and sound. I am here to debrief you before your departure.”
“Yes Sir.” Departure?
‘ Seems you had a stay with DHS?”
“Coast Guard Auxiliary, some Search and Rescue..Not much.’
“Well it helped your town and Jackson to get here.”
“What’s going on?”
“Well, after LA we evacuated the sea coast cities just in case. We held the line just inside the Metrowest areas and Marlborough was the line here in Mass. Don’t worry, we have a new team in place there and your friend..” He looked at a paper..” Niel, has high regards for you and Jackson. In fact he wanted you to know that the new calf is doing well and he has not yet fired his 203. Can you offer anything to this? “
I just snickered and shook my head to no.
The interview went on to its end and the Colonel parted company. I went to see Jackson with Amie and we had a good heart to heart and parted our ways. Our VIP passes got us to the head of the line as the C-130 was rotating propellers on the tarmac. Amie and I ducked into the rear ramp and took our seats. Amie had done this before and showed her old man how to strap in.
The plane turned out into the clear, cold winter sky. Where we were going would be warm. Amie turned to me and held my arm and said her truck is at the base where we would land..Her truck? She could drive at 14? There was hope yet..Thank you Rebecca, Thank you America…The plane rolled and lifted…off..
Epilogue
Amie and I held each other as we took off.
“Does she still love me?”
“ Yes. She has been waiting for you.”
I could not hold back the tears.
“ I tried to save our home.”
“We made a new home, for us dad. You taught me that.”
“Seems you learned a lot of things while we were apart.”
“ I only did what you told me to do.”
We relaxed for the flight home. The nation went on and picked up the pieces. It was really that simple. Once everything fell apart it was only natural to start again from the beginning. People took up the role of government, not the government itself. That is what a true Democracy is all about. Senators and Congress people were booted out and average Americans took the seats. The President’s power was greatly diminished in 2015 with the passage of the Constitution Re-enactment Bill. Everyone was out of work so everyone just pitched in and went back to work. The military ran the nation until we got fuel and our own resources into production. Cars came out of storage slowly but they never became as prevalent ever again. Horses and bike paths were allocated on the existing streets and ‘rights of way’ were enacted. The manure was collected steadily and methane became a second source for power. We went back to buying American again. Anything we needed we sought out the people who knew how to do it. People were paid in gold, silver, diamonds, gasoline minted coins but no paper money. That was gone forever. The air was cleaner, everything was recycled. It took another two years but we got there.
It’s not that we did anything new, or, develop some new technology. We just stopped what we had been doing and did things the way they used to be done. We recycled our trash not for the environment but rather the raw materials we could get from it. The entire nation changed it mindset and we rebuilt the culture and country itself, not with government help but with our own American spirit. The huge grocery mega stores became trading places and Farmer’s Markets. You paid in coins, gold, diamonds, or traded services. The term ‘Goods and Services’ actually meant something again. Even children had jobs. Many families let the kids go and perform services (chores) for someone you owed. This was not forced labor and parents kept a keen eye out.. Children learned the benefits of a hard days work and the rewards there of.
It was comforting to see the changes each day. Things were no longer falling apart. Things were beginning again! With the new Citizens Congress in place legislation was passed quickly to start drilling our own oil and gas with tight environmental oversight. With the old lobbyists and government out of the way, industry began humming again, green technology actually was put into use and not just argued over. Wind, solar and our own petroleum became the General Motors and Fords of This new nation.
We just went back to basics.We rebuilt homes and moved in families at dirt rates. We all farmed now, fed our communities together, produced, traded and brokered. The NYCE reopened its doors on October 10th. The first IPO’s of the day were the The New National Farmer’s Exchange and Colorado Shale Oil, Gas and Solar. The price for each was an easy $2.75 a share.
“Are any tomatoes ready?” She said
“Maybe another few days.” I replied.
She leaned towards me and kissed me. Amie came to us with her boyfriend. They brought the first of the cucumbers and a basket of corn.
“I shot a couple of rabbits today.” Amie said.
“Lets go home and make supper then.” Rebecca said
THE END
Jackson finally fell asleep. I had stoked the fire and adjusted the wind break to steer the heat towards the tent. Maybe it was the turkey MRE with its latent triptophan that took him out. He was used to a heated barracks and a Humvee to take him around, not a twelve hour horseback ride in the snow. I could not sleep. The jet roar continued. The horses were restless. I took the Army rationed shovel from Jackson’s pack and, well, broke into the house after all.
What a different world I entered. Silent, abandoned, frost on all the walls and floors. Crunch of my feet echoed.
I broke in from the back through the basement area. I made my way up the stairs to the garage first to open the door..Oh that’s right..An electric garage door opener..Shit..Release the catch..Ok..Now open..Then I noticed the car, whew! BMW 320I.
The door slid heavily, snow had gathered at the door front. I went out and tethered the horses and led them up to the front of the driveway. No need to secure them as I pulled the garage door down. Some how they understood and just snorted and shook off the snow they had gathered on their coats.
“Shhh”. I patted them both. “Let see what we got”.
The main door to the house was bolted, no problem, pried open with the shovel.
An amazing kitchen, all oak wood, glass front doors, marble counters, Moen faucets on the sink..Tried it..No water. I opened the fridge. Remains of a lettuce head and some old tomatoes but nothing at all.
“Well horses here we go”.
The stallions relished the meal as frugal as it was. I wiped off the remaining snow melt with rags I found in the garage and resumed my haunting.
I didn’t know what I wanted to find. Some perverse sense of intrigue kept me opening doors and looking through things. This was once a home and a family and what was I doing here? Clothes were still in the drawers and closets, the beds were empty of blankets and coverings, most likely to cover this family on their own search for something better.
Why have these people left and so many of us stayed to survive? What happened…? Then I turned and saw the dresser. The photo frames of the family left behind. I looked over them, family parties, softball games, children, memories, the children. The children. Amie..Becky.. They may have only been photos of some one else’s life. They may have been my own anyway. They were back at the apartment on my own dresser! Damn!! Oh so stupid!! I had to get to Amie and Becky no matter what!
I ransacked the house, anything we could carry. The sun was soon to rise and we had to get to that airstrip and find out what was going on. My mission had changed though. I wanted to get to my family.
I gathered some matches in a drawer and left over canned goods and headed for the garage. Wait!..Voices, shouting! The Army! Yes they will take me…..
It was not the Army. It was not the Army at all.
They had dragged Jackson from his slumber and tossed the tent into the fire. The flames illuminated the whole back yard. Three men with rifles at his point. Jackson was dumbfounded shouting any answer the gun men barked at him. I slung out my M-16 and checked the clip. Full. Drew back the breach and stood back from the window looking into the back yard.
‘Not the horses..Not the horses..’ I kept saying in my mind.
One of the three men motioned to another towards the house. Game over. Time to party!
I moved forward and took aim…
Glass shattered in front of me. One down. Jackson dove. I lined up the next one running..POUMP! POUMP!..He fell into the brush. The third? SHIT!!!
Shots fired!.
“Jackson”!!! I raced down the stairs, forward sites ready!
I got to the back door I broke into. M-16 raised I kicked it open. The body slumped into the threshold of the door. Whew!..Ok he is dead..
I crept out, remembering my old X-Box Rainbow games checking all around for anything and any one.
“JACKSON?’
“Yeah, here”.
He was in the snow laying cramped in the glow of the fire.
“Got that last motherfucker!”. His 9mm side arm laid in blood next to him.
Part V-VI
I ran to him still scoping the upper deck of the house and the grounds.
“Where is it, Jackson?” I said “Where are you hit?”
‘Ahh..shit. shoulder, I, I, think”.
I was a nervous wreck, still scanning and trying to roll that poor kid over so I could see his wound. It was his upper chest.
“Breathe for me and spit”
Inhale, cough, he spit. No blood. Thank God.
“ I fell…I fell asleep, where, where are the horses, I don’t see the horses.”
“They’re in the garage, they are fine, hang on. Where is the med kit?” He pointed to our packs stored under the deck.
“You broke in anyway you asshole?”
“Yes, I broke in anyway.” I stripped open the kits and tore open gauze pads. True as a soldier he was, he held the pressure on those pads. I reached behind his shoulder. Felt wet ooze.
“ I think it went through.” I said
“Betcha, the back looks worse..” Jackson slumped in my arms. Ok..Ok, inside, I need him inside so I can see what is wrong. The snow was coming on strong now and I needed to get him in. I slung the med kit pack over my shoulder. Jackson was still half in his sleeping bag. Poor bastard barely got a chance to get out of it. They must have dragged him out bag and all from the tent.
I just grabbed the sleeping bag and let his body slink into it as I dragged it. I dragged it over the dead body in the basement door and into the cellar. Dark as shit I kicked my way through whatever was on the floor and found a table, or, workbench, whatever the hell it was. It was now an operating table. I pulled the glow tubes from my pants and cracked them.
‘You know what the hell your’ doin?”
“No, but I’m the best chance you’ve got buddy.”
His shoulder was definitely broken, but he wasn’t bleeding internally. That was the good part. I just had to sew his back up and stop the bleeding from the blow out of the bullet. This operation lasted over an hour.
Jackson passed out during my stitching. I kept him warm and his head up to shunt the blood away from the wound. I waited another long hour and started a fire in the fireplace to melt snow and wash his wound and wet his mouth for hydration. Finally, he woke up.
“Fuck.”
That was the most positive thing I could ever hope to hear.
“How do you feel?”
“Like Shit.”
“Want an MRE?”
“No.”
“ I am going to give you something.”
“A naked brunette?”
“Ahh, mmmm, no, ahh something to help you sleep and hold off infection”. What a thing to say, I knew he would be ok from that response only if… I didn’t wait, I stabbed a surrette into his neck and his eyes glazed. His torso was wrapped up in gauze and almost mummified.
“Mmmmm, Combat Injury Cocktail..”
He was right. A combination of antibiotics, and pain killers. Jackson dozed off mumbling an old Springsteen song
“…dddoonnnn..somee..where ona last trans..pooww..drive..”
Time to get to work. I had to get Jackson to Hanscom. I had to get to my family.
I went back to the garage. The horses had shit on the floor, oh well, welcome to life. I eyed the BMW. Why would they leave that here? Where are the keys? I didn’t think to look for keys. Think. Think. People hide things in the most obvious place to avoid being found..Mmmm.. Where are those keys?
I walked over to the car and tried the door. It opened.
God Damn!!..
I looked in all the usual spots. The visor, the glove box, under the seat. Nothing. I looked out the windshield toward the garage work bench. Several jars and cans of screws, nuts and bolts. I spilled them onto the floor; nothing..Shit!!
I sat back into the car. Think, think, think!
I pulled down the rearview to bitch at myself. There it was. The child seat in the back. I spun around and tore at the bottom of it and felt that familiar metal and the jingle.
Fucking-A-Yeah!!
I started the car. Gas gauge slammed to full and the “All Wheel Drive” light flashed ready to engage. The horses startled and pounded the garage floor. I shut off the car and pocketed the keys. DO NOT LOSE THESE KEYS!!!
I opened the garage door. Then I had a stark realization. There was over a foot of snow in the driveway. Even though the roads were windswept and clear in some areas, this driveway was buried. I was going no where if I did not get it cleared.
I spent another hour shoveling.
By now it was Eight O’clock in the morning and the sky was clear. Time to get Jackson into the car. I was exhausted. We were two days over what we estimated and I had a wounded soldier on my hands.
Damn he was heavy. I did the Fireman’s rescue with him over my shoulder. ”I am waayy too old for this shit..” Into the back seat he went, sorry car seat, toss your ass to the floor.
I gathered the sleeping bags and covered Jackson. The med kit, MRE’s, saddle bags all went into the trunk. I gathered every thing we had that would fit. Yeah, foreign cars are awesome but you can’t haul shit with them. What I would give for a Jeep, Chevy Truck or a Lincoln Navigator. Go ahead, laugh. When the end of the world comes you too will want a huge SUV.
Now, the horses, what to do about them.
The garage doors were open. I untied them, dropped the saddles and opened an MRE of cookies and gave them melted snow water. After a few minutes I did the “chck—chck” call and they turned out into the driveway.
They knew, animals are smart. They snorted in the cold and nudged me as I patted them. I took their reins so they both looked at me.
“Go home!. Go find home.” I pointed south. “Go find Mike. Go find Mike..” I pointed again
I went behind the horses. Here we go. “Go home!, find Mike!” I slapped them both and hollered. Off they ran. Believe it, or not, they took a right at the end of the driveway and headed fucking South. BMW drive time..
The car was awesome. The sun was out, cold, crisp. Great day for an All Wheel Drive in the snow with a stolen luxury car!
Part VI
Well, we headed out done the road. I kept it in 2nd gear so the tires would grab and the car would respond to the mess ahead of me. Where the snow drifts had opened I drove through, sometimes on some one’s lawn. There were cars parked and abandoned, doors open, snow gathering in the interiors, empty houses, some burned, I even saw a couple people who stayed in their homes trying to shovel. I just kept driving past the amazed stares of a car that worked and had gas. Trees looked as they always do after a snow fall; absolutely beautiful. After about twenty minutes I arrived at the overpass to Route 2. There was the sign. “Hanscom AFB”.
The amazing thing was how the snow was packed solid. Apparently other people got the same idea and traveled this way. The snow was packed down solid from feet, carts, horses (piles of horse shit in the road) and whatever they could find to travel in and I was able to just drive over the 1-2 feet of packed snow with the car.
Jackson came to life. “How the hell did you get a car?”
“I stole it.”
“So, what was all that about, ’some one’s house’ ?”
“ You’re a soldier. Contingency plans, we had contact with the enemy so we killed them and had to change our tactics.” Jackson just laughed. I did too. It felt good. We actually laughed for a few minutes at the crazy situation we were in.
The road got a little more crowded with debris. Cars were abandoned, carts, piles of belongings. Jackson sat up. He ignored my concerns for him. I had to do a slalom in the snow with the Beemer finding my way through the ever growing pile of human leavings. Smoke and helicopters were in the distance.
“We are close.” Jackson said.
“ Yeah, who the fuck are all these people?”
“Refugees, remember the planes?”
“What are they all doing here?”
“Something is going on.” Jackson sat up more.
Ahead was a sentry patrol. Two Humvees and a bunch of soldiers dressed in winter cammo with M-4’s and one in a turret with a Mark-4 grenade launcher. They waved us to slow and stop.
A Corporal came to the car.
“Sorry folks, refugees have a 48 hour wait unti…..”
Jackson hit the window button and handed out his ID. The Corporal snapped to attention.
“I’m shot.” That’s all Jackson said.
“Sir!, yes Sir!” The Corporal moved of to a Humvee and pulled out a phone.
“Stick with me, you’ll go places.” Jackson patted the back of my seat with his good arm.
The thud grew louder and soon a CH-60 with a huge red + on the side was drifting snow everywhere as it landed in the median beside where we stopped. Medics poured out with a stretcher. I got out and opened the back door to the Beemer.
Jackson limped out and leaned to the Medics. “He comes with us!” Pointing to me. They nodded. Jackson got comfortable and we all trotted, heads low to the chopper.
The Blackhawk went straight up and high. Jackson took a cigarette from a Medic (go figure). Another checked his wounds and commented to me on my stitching. The chopper leaned forward, I looked out the window. Below was a trail all along the highway of Route 2 of people, cars, tents, human waste, smoke and debris. All of them trying to get out. I looked south and thought I saw two horses running along Route One-Eleven. We flew on to Hanscom. I fell asleep.. I fell deeply asleep.
What a great dream. Amie was playing softball with her team. She clocked one out into center field, the center fielder missed so Amie got a double. Then ,strangely, she left the plate and came towards me. What the? ’Amie? You still have a play?’
‘Dad.’
‘Yeah.’
‘Dad.
‘Amie,get back in..’
“ DAD!”
“Dad, wake up!.”
I opened my eyes to the most beautiful young women God ever put on this Earth.
“Dad! Hello?”
My eyes went wide. Where..what..”Amie?’ Behind her a well dressed Officer.
“Mister Maider, I am Colonel MacKensie, are you awake Sir?”
I sat up. Amie?. I grabbed her and cried. Amie just held me and tried to mediate. Strong girl.
“Dad, the Colonel has to talk to you .Yes I am here.”
‘Where’s you’re Mother?”.
“She has class and the hospital so she sent me.”
I looked at her, No, she was not the child that went away anymore. She was a young woman and could hold her own now. Thank You Rebecca. Thank you Rebecca.
“Mister Maider.” Said the Colonel. I looked up.
“ Thank you for bringing one of our’s home safe and sound. I am here to debrief you before your departure.”
“Yes Sir.” Departure?
‘ Seems you had a stay with DHS?”
“Coast Guard Auxiliary, some Search and Rescue..Not much.’
“Well it helped your town and Jackson to get here.”
“What’s going on?”
“Well, after LA we evacuated the sea coast cities just in case. We held the line just inside the Metrowest areas and Marlborough was the line here in Mass. Don’t worry, we have a new team in place there and your friend..” He looked at a paper..” Niel, has high regards for you and Jackson. In fact he wanted you to know that the new calf is doing well and he has not yet fired his 203. Can you offer anything to this? “
I just snickered and shook my head to no.
The interview went on to its end and the Colonel parted company. I went to see Jackson with Amie and we had a good heart to heart and parted our ways. Our VIP passes got us to the head of the line as the C-130 was rotating propellers on the tarmac. Amie and I ducked into the rear ramp and took our seats. Amie had done this before and showed her old man how to strap in.
The plane turned out into the clear, cold winter sky. Where we were going would be warm. Amie turned to me and held my arm and said her truck is at the base where we would land..Her truck? She could drive at 14? There was hope yet..Thank you Rebecca, Thank you America…The plane rolled and lifted…off..
Epilogue
Amie and I held each other as we took off.
“Does she still love me?”
“ Yes. She has been waiting for you.”
I could not hold back the tears.
“ I tried to save our home.”
“We made a new home, for us dad. You taught me that.”
“Seems you learned a lot of things while we were apart.”
“ I only did what you told me to do.”
We relaxed for the flight home. The nation went on and picked up the pieces. It was really that simple. Once everything fell apart it was only natural to start again from the beginning. People took up the role of government, not the government itself. That is what a true Democracy is all about. Senators and Congress people were booted out and average Americans took the seats. The President’s power was greatly diminished in 2015 with the passage of the Constitution Re-enactment Bill. Everyone was out of work so everyone just pitched in and went back to work. The military ran the nation until we got fuel and our own resources into production. Cars came out of storage slowly but they never became as prevalent ever again. Horses and bike paths were allocated on the existing streets and ‘rights of way’ were enacted. The manure was collected steadily and methane became a second source for power. We went back to buying American again. Anything we needed we sought out the people who knew how to do it. People were paid in gold, silver, diamonds, gasoline minted coins but no paper money. That was gone forever. The air was cleaner, everything was recycled. It took another two years but we got there.
It’s not that we did anything new, or, develop some new technology. We just stopped what we had been doing and did things the way they used to be done. We recycled our trash not for the environment but rather the raw materials we could get from it. The entire nation changed it mindset and we rebuilt the culture and country itself, not with government help but with our own American spirit. The huge grocery mega stores became trading places and Farmer’s Markets. You paid in coins, gold, diamonds, or traded services. The term ‘Goods and Services’ actually meant something again. Even children had jobs. Many families let the kids go and perform services (chores) for someone you owed. This was not forced labor and parents kept a keen eye out.. Children learned the benefits of a hard days work and the rewards there of.
It was comforting to see the changes each day. Things were no longer falling apart. Things were beginning again! With the new Citizens Congress in place legislation was passed quickly to start drilling our own oil and gas with tight environmental oversight. With the old lobbyists and government out of the way, industry began humming again, green technology actually was put into use and not just argued over. Wind, solar and our own petroleum became the General Motors and Fords of This new nation.
We just went back to basics.We rebuilt homes and moved in families at dirt rates. We all farmed now, fed our communities together, produced, traded and brokered. The NYCE reopened its doors on October 10th. The first IPO’s of the day were the The New National Farmer’s Exchange and Colorado Shale Oil, Gas and Solar. The price for each was an easy $2.75 a share.
“Are any tomatoes ready?” She said
“Maybe another few days.” I replied.
She leaned towards me and kissed me. Amie came to us with her boyfriend. They brought the first of the cucumbers and a basket of corn.
“I shot a couple of rabbits today.” Amie said.
“Lets go home and make supper then.” Rebecca said
THE END
George Orwell, Revisionist History and Liberalism
George Orwell, Revisionist History and Liberalism
“The integrity of the news the American people get is essential to its Democracy.” Walter Cronkite.
As I get older and find that more years are behind me than ahead of me I am reminded of events that have transpired and how the debate surrounding those events unfolded. It was always difficult to separate fact from rhetoric and try to stay focused on the solution to a problem and not be mired in the cacophony from the left and the right whose volume only grew louder.
What I have always found fascinating is the ability of Americans to digest this bullshit and let it pass (yes, pun intended). However, some Americans take nutrition from this bullshit, use it to feed on their fears and/or self righteousness and has led to some of the most vitriolic, dangerous movements and activism that has polarized this nation forever. Entire strata’s of government have been created to dictate the rules according to these fears and self righteousness. Activists have been able to create awareness and laws that trickle down to our elementary schools. Laws that remove one value system and replace it with another, despite parental objections, are entrenched right into our family life.
The printed press has a history rich in never telling the whole truth. Sensational headlines and lurid details, indignation and rallying cries are the hallmark of the paper from yesteryear. The famous ‘Movietone” reels from WW II with the upbeat narrator and fanfare music telling of the triumphant victories of the Allies in France. None of these depicting the realities of the events they described.
Propaganda and censorship in Non Democratic nations is easy to spot and dismiss as lies. American propaganda and censorship is far more subtle and harder to discern. Censorship in North Korea is orchestrated by the government. Censorship in America is orchestrated by sales, ratings and which union or parent company gave which candidate their support.
Another way to tilt coverage of an issue, or event is to repeat the “talking points” enough times to sway the public into believing that is all there is to said issue or event. If you repeat a lie enough times eventually it becomes the truth. Not the truth in so far as facts are concerned but rather what the public believes. A famous line in the book 1984 illustrates this point. “We are at war with Oceana, we have always been at war with Oceana.” The late Mitch Snyder, Homeless Advocate from the 1990’s proclaimed that there were over 3 million homeless in America. He also stated that every 45 seconds a homeless person dies on the streets. Well, if you do the math that would mean that 23 million die every year. The facts don’t add up, yet Liberals were able to guilt the government into pouring money at a problem that was grossly exaggerated. Guess what? There are still homeless on the streets. The money did nothing but make the public believe that a national epidemic existed and line the pockets of advocacy groups.
The war in Iraq is a classic example of propaganda that is opposite of the facts. The war was a central theme in two elections with bullshit so thick a hazmat team was on standby every time a politician opened his/her mouth. Harry Reid said the war was lost, then, Senator Clinton told General Patreus that she had to “suspend disbelief.” That the Surge would work. Peace activists, mother’s of slain soldiers, even Mike Moore who tainted his film to hammer home the rhetoric could not overcome the facts that 20 million people were now free and had taken part in two (count them) two free elections. History will remember the average Iraqi citizen that braved bombings and terrorism to hold up the purple finger in solidarity for a free and democratic Iraqi Nation.
The story does not end there. During this whole time the left always questioned that the resources being used in Iraq should be used in Afghanistan. That was where the real war was, after all, right? Fast forward to now. The left is now gathering the steam to denounce the chances of a Surge working there also. President Obama has even called for talks with so called “moderate Taliban”.
President Bush wanted to plant the seed of Democracy in the Middle East. He was laughed at. Now, 9 years later we see Democracy in Iraq, a fledgling republic in Afghanistan, and last, but by no means least, the nation of Iran taking to the streets under threat of arrest and gunfire and demanding change.
History backs this up. During Vietnam the worry was that if Communism succeeded in Vietnam then the whole region would fall. Lyndon Johnson (Democrat) was laughed at. Shortly after the war ended, Cambodia, Laos, Burma, fell under dictatorships and/or Communist rule. Millions were persecuted for their role in the war. The left was wrong. Today the formula is in reverse. The left said
that the War On Terror was lost and we cannot bring Democracy to the Middle East. They are wrong again.
Despite what I say here it does not change the fact that the media will hammer home the worry and doubt that surrounds this point. In time, people, focused only on the talking points and leftist mantras will complain of our soldiers dying in a foreign land for, what? The public will believe the media mantras from the politicians. With a Liberal at the helm I fear that negotiations with terrorists will transpire and those who died since 9/11, Iraq, and Afghanistan will have died in vain. When that day comes America will once again have another Vietnam. Thousands dead and no victory to assuage the loss.
The school system teaches Multi Culturialism. The champions of this cause are the minority and PC Activists who claim bigotry still exists in America. The concept, that all of us have been taught, of America’s place in history has been replaced with apologies for the mistakes our past is guilty of.
My mother was an historian. She graduated, a single, divorced mother in her 50’s, with a teaching degree in History. She told me one thing to always remember. Never judge history from a modern day viewpoint. History is history. We can never change what happened.
The left has a different viewpoint.
Racism and bigotry is alive and well in America and we must stamp it out in the public schools where we can make the greatest impact. In the minds of children.
Christmas has been removed from schools, Columbus Day is not a day of teaching, but of reflection of the wrongs committed. The Civil War is not a war of right vs, wrong but how racism is integral to American life. Bi-Lingual classes are not Bi-Lingual at all. They are taught in the language of those who speak it.
I turn back to my mother. She grew up in a Polish Neighborhood in the late 1920’s. All the parents spoke Polish. My mother learned Polish from her childhood friends. (talk about multi-culturalism) The children attended public schools. The Polish children learned English at the demand of the Polish parents. My mother heard many times from the parents. ”You are in America now, you will learn English”. Why? Because they wanted the next generation to succeed! God Bless them.
We do not do this now. America is to be a Multi-Lingual nation. This makes me wonder?? If I moved to, say, upper Mongolia, would I afforded that same privilege? NO!!!
We have tailored our culture to be politically correct. We have multi lingual printing on everything we buy. Granted, some products come from overseas. That is fine. We must teach English only in our country. Affluence is not gained by holding on to old world languages. It is attained through a command of the language of that nation one chooses to do business in.
The Japanese will not even sign a contract unless the negotiator has a fluent command on Nippon. That’s their culture. Arabs will not speak to you if you do not have a command of Arabic, or, Farsi. The French always make fun of American tourists who just learned French from a book yesterday. Why must we apologize?
If I went to any of these nations, Despite my knowledge, if I do not hold a command of the language I cannot hold the position I was trained to perform. In America, we will bend over backwards to afford you that.
Multi-Culturalism, under Liberal thinking, segregates America and divides it. That is racism.
Environmentalists have told us we are destroying the planet. The planet can never be destroyed by man. Mother Earth has survived dozens of warming phases and dozens of freezing phases and giant rocks from space smashing her to a burnt ruin. Still, here we are.
Once again, facts get in the way of rhetoric. The truth is we are only concerned with our own asses. If we pollute the world enough we will destroy her, no, just us. We are the dinosaurs of the modern era.
Facts always get in the way. Plant life is greater now than has ever been in the last 200,000 years. Species die every day yet the Earth holds more species today than ever in its history. Global Climate Change is said to be caused by man. CO’2 has only raised by 3% over the last 200 years. Most of it from the last two volcanic eruptions; Krakatoa and Pinatubo. Also, the dust clouds formed have stabilized the warming by blanketing out the sun. The arctic is currently in a 100 year warming trend that has been recorded since the first expeditions in the early 1800’s. The North Sea was so warm in the First Millennium that the Vikings were able to sail it and establish a colony in North East Canada. Ancient Egypt had vast agricultural land all along the Nile, today the area is a desert. American Indian culture thrived in the southwest only to give it up due to climate change.
Clovis People in Early Meso-America had a hunting and farming culture and they disappeared due to climate change. Pre-Historic-Afro man migrated north assimilating with Neanderthals as the glaciers retreated due to; what? Global Warming! Don’t remember cars and oil being in production back then.
Should we keep the Earth clean? Of course we should. It is good stewardship of our home. But we keep hearing the doom and gloom of the Earth and what we are doing to her. Environmental activists always get guilt money from the government to support their cause. Most of that money goes to, well, administration and lobbying. Never to Mother Earth. Money is poured into these causes. The fact is we can do nothing to change what Mother Earth wants to do. Al Gore can fly in his corporate jet all he wants to fan the flames of global warming. In the end, God and Mother Earth will decide our fate.
Nations come and nations go. We, too, shall pass. I only defend this nation because I have to. I am one person living in this time of history. Some other nation will succeed us. Who, or what they are, we can only guess.
So I leave all of you with this. Do not believe anything you hear. It has been said before. Proven wrong. Do not believe anything you see. It has been seen before. Proven wrong. Do not believe the left or the right. Proven wrong. Believe in what has always been. Our world, progress, hard work, that our time is short, your children and that you will always be lied to and that you will always know that.
.And That Is The Diatribe….
“The integrity of the news the American people get is essential to its Democracy.” Walter Cronkite.
As I get older and find that more years are behind me than ahead of me I am reminded of events that have transpired and how the debate surrounding those events unfolded. It was always difficult to separate fact from rhetoric and try to stay focused on the solution to a problem and not be mired in the cacophony from the left and the right whose volume only grew louder.
What I have always found fascinating is the ability of Americans to digest this bullshit and let it pass (yes, pun intended). However, some Americans take nutrition from this bullshit, use it to feed on their fears and/or self righteousness and has led to some of the most vitriolic, dangerous movements and activism that has polarized this nation forever. Entire strata’s of government have been created to dictate the rules according to these fears and self righteousness. Activists have been able to create awareness and laws that trickle down to our elementary schools. Laws that remove one value system and replace it with another, despite parental objections, are entrenched right into our family life.
The printed press has a history rich in never telling the whole truth. Sensational headlines and lurid details, indignation and rallying cries are the hallmark of the paper from yesteryear. The famous ‘Movietone” reels from WW II with the upbeat narrator and fanfare music telling of the triumphant victories of the Allies in France. None of these depicting the realities of the events they described.
Propaganda and censorship in Non Democratic nations is easy to spot and dismiss as lies. American propaganda and censorship is far more subtle and harder to discern. Censorship in North Korea is orchestrated by the government. Censorship in America is orchestrated by sales, ratings and which union or parent company gave which candidate their support.
Another way to tilt coverage of an issue, or event is to repeat the “talking points” enough times to sway the public into believing that is all there is to said issue or event. If you repeat a lie enough times eventually it becomes the truth. Not the truth in so far as facts are concerned but rather what the public believes. A famous line in the book 1984 illustrates this point. “We are at war with Oceana, we have always been at war with Oceana.” The late Mitch Snyder, Homeless Advocate from the 1990’s proclaimed that there were over 3 million homeless in America. He also stated that every 45 seconds a homeless person dies on the streets. Well, if you do the math that would mean that 23 million die every year. The facts don’t add up, yet Liberals were able to guilt the government into pouring money at a problem that was grossly exaggerated. Guess what? There are still homeless on the streets. The money did nothing but make the public believe that a national epidemic existed and line the pockets of advocacy groups.
The war in Iraq is a classic example of propaganda that is opposite of the facts. The war was a central theme in two elections with bullshit so thick a hazmat team was on standby every time a politician opened his/her mouth. Harry Reid said the war was lost, then, Senator Clinton told General Patreus that she had to “suspend disbelief.” That the Surge would work. Peace activists, mother’s of slain soldiers, even Mike Moore who tainted his film to hammer home the rhetoric could not overcome the facts that 20 million people were now free and had taken part in two (count them) two free elections. History will remember the average Iraqi citizen that braved bombings and terrorism to hold up the purple finger in solidarity for a free and democratic Iraqi Nation.
The story does not end there. During this whole time the left always questioned that the resources being used in Iraq should be used in Afghanistan. That was where the real war was, after all, right? Fast forward to now. The left is now gathering the steam to denounce the chances of a Surge working there also. President Obama has even called for talks with so called “moderate Taliban”.
President Bush wanted to plant the seed of Democracy in the Middle East. He was laughed at. Now, 9 years later we see Democracy in Iraq, a fledgling republic in Afghanistan, and last, but by no means least, the nation of Iran taking to the streets under threat of arrest and gunfire and demanding change.
History backs this up. During Vietnam the worry was that if Communism succeeded in Vietnam then the whole region would fall. Lyndon Johnson (Democrat) was laughed at. Shortly after the war ended, Cambodia, Laos, Burma, fell under dictatorships and/or Communist rule. Millions were persecuted for their role in the war. The left was wrong. Today the formula is in reverse. The left said
that the War On Terror was lost and we cannot bring Democracy to the Middle East. They are wrong again.
Despite what I say here it does not change the fact that the media will hammer home the worry and doubt that surrounds this point. In time, people, focused only on the talking points and leftist mantras will complain of our soldiers dying in a foreign land for, what? The public will believe the media mantras from the politicians. With a Liberal at the helm I fear that negotiations with terrorists will transpire and those who died since 9/11, Iraq, and Afghanistan will have died in vain. When that day comes America will once again have another Vietnam. Thousands dead and no victory to assuage the loss.
The school system teaches Multi Culturialism. The champions of this cause are the minority and PC Activists who claim bigotry still exists in America. The concept, that all of us have been taught, of America’s place in history has been replaced with apologies for the mistakes our past is guilty of.
My mother was an historian. She graduated, a single, divorced mother in her 50’s, with a teaching degree in History. She told me one thing to always remember. Never judge history from a modern day viewpoint. History is history. We can never change what happened.
The left has a different viewpoint.
Racism and bigotry is alive and well in America and we must stamp it out in the public schools where we can make the greatest impact. In the minds of children.
Christmas has been removed from schools, Columbus Day is not a day of teaching, but of reflection of the wrongs committed. The Civil War is not a war of right vs, wrong but how racism is integral to American life. Bi-Lingual classes are not Bi-Lingual at all. They are taught in the language of those who speak it.
I turn back to my mother. She grew up in a Polish Neighborhood in the late 1920’s. All the parents spoke Polish. My mother learned Polish from her childhood friends. (talk about multi-culturalism) The children attended public schools. The Polish children learned English at the demand of the Polish parents. My mother heard many times from the parents. ”You are in America now, you will learn English”. Why? Because they wanted the next generation to succeed! God Bless them.
We do not do this now. America is to be a Multi-Lingual nation. This makes me wonder?? If I moved to, say, upper Mongolia, would I afforded that same privilege? NO!!!
We have tailored our culture to be politically correct. We have multi lingual printing on everything we buy. Granted, some products come from overseas. That is fine. We must teach English only in our country. Affluence is not gained by holding on to old world languages. It is attained through a command of the language of that nation one chooses to do business in.
The Japanese will not even sign a contract unless the negotiator has a fluent command on Nippon. That’s their culture. Arabs will not speak to you if you do not have a command of Arabic, or, Farsi. The French always make fun of American tourists who just learned French from a book yesterday. Why must we apologize?
If I went to any of these nations, Despite my knowledge, if I do not hold a command of the language I cannot hold the position I was trained to perform. In America, we will bend over backwards to afford you that.
Multi-Culturalism, under Liberal thinking, segregates America and divides it. That is racism.
Environmentalists have told us we are destroying the planet. The planet can never be destroyed by man. Mother Earth has survived dozens of warming phases and dozens of freezing phases and giant rocks from space smashing her to a burnt ruin. Still, here we are.
Once again, facts get in the way of rhetoric. The truth is we are only concerned with our own asses. If we pollute the world enough we will destroy her, no, just us. We are the dinosaurs of the modern era.
Facts always get in the way. Plant life is greater now than has ever been in the last 200,000 years. Species die every day yet the Earth holds more species today than ever in its history. Global Climate Change is said to be caused by man. CO’2 has only raised by 3% over the last 200 years. Most of it from the last two volcanic eruptions; Krakatoa and Pinatubo. Also, the dust clouds formed have stabilized the warming by blanketing out the sun. The arctic is currently in a 100 year warming trend that has been recorded since the first expeditions in the early 1800’s. The North Sea was so warm in the First Millennium that the Vikings were able to sail it and establish a colony in North East Canada. Ancient Egypt had vast agricultural land all along the Nile, today the area is a desert. American Indian culture thrived in the southwest only to give it up due to climate change.
Clovis People in Early Meso-America had a hunting and farming culture and they disappeared due to climate change. Pre-Historic-Afro man migrated north assimilating with Neanderthals as the glaciers retreated due to; what? Global Warming! Don’t remember cars and oil being in production back then.
Should we keep the Earth clean? Of course we should. It is good stewardship of our home. But we keep hearing the doom and gloom of the Earth and what we are doing to her. Environmental activists always get guilt money from the government to support their cause. Most of that money goes to, well, administration and lobbying. Never to Mother Earth. Money is poured into these causes. The fact is we can do nothing to change what Mother Earth wants to do. Al Gore can fly in his corporate jet all he wants to fan the flames of global warming. In the end, God and Mother Earth will decide our fate.
Nations come and nations go. We, too, shall pass. I only defend this nation because I have to. I am one person living in this time of history. Some other nation will succeed us. Who, or what they are, we can only guess.
So I leave all of you with this. Do not believe anything you hear. It has been said before. Proven wrong. Do not believe anything you see. It has been seen before. Proven wrong. Do not believe the left or the right. Proven wrong. Believe in what has always been. Our world, progress, hard work, that our time is short, your children and that you will always be lied to and that you will always know that.
.And That Is The Diatribe….
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