Are we not already two different countries, the liberals and we traditional believers in free men and free markets? If we cannot agree on something so philosophically findamental as the sanctity of life, what else can we agree on? Have we not just been agreeing to disagree on when the next American civil war will break out?
We must admit that the reason we are losing the world war for western civilization both at home and abroad is because we have elected not to fight it. And we will continue losing it until we do.
Those of us who long for the restoration of the Founders’ Republic are out of time. We cannot allow ourselves to pushed back from our God-given, inalienable liberties any longer. WE MUST REFUSE TO BE SUBJUGATED A THIN SALAMI SLICE AT A TIME. We must refuse to concede to our own enslavement. In the end, and it may come sooner rather than later, we must fight.
This is no small thing, to restore a republic after it has fallen into corruption. I have studied history for years and I cannot recall it ever happening. It may be that our task is impossible. Yet, if we do not try then how will we know it can’t be done? And if we do not try, it most certainly won’t be done. The Founders’ Republic, and the larger war for western civilization, will be lost.
But I tell you this: We will not go gently into that bloody collectivist good night. Indeed, we will make with our defiance such a sound as ALL history from that day forward will be forced to note, even if they despise us in the writing of it.
And when we are gone, the scattered, free survivors hiding in the ruins of our once-great republic will sing of our deeds in forbidden songs, tending the flickering flame of individual liberty until it bursts forth again, as it must, generations later. We will live forever, like the Spartans at Thermopylae, in sacred memory.
Along those same lines, Aesop is all in.
It cuts against the grain. Because when they’re enforcing just laws in a just manner, the police are doing Good. I am neither a copsucker nor a knee-jerk cop-hater, and my record in calling out the douchebadges when they royally screw the pooch is beyond reproach. But there’s still quite a lot of them doing God’s work all the time. (In Chicongo, not so much. But I digress.) If I were a bank robber, a rapist, or a murderer, caught red-handed, that would include shooting me in the face.
But when the only alleged “crime” is that some shrieking nancypants got the hebejeebees because I own a gun (or ten, or fifty, or whatever I’m up to these days), and anyone – president, congress weasels, governor, district attorney, hysterical mother, or some black-robed fuckwit too stupid to get into a STEM program – thinks that gives them the a priori right to circumvent Natural Law, the Constitution, and due process in one fell swoop, and send Officer Jackboots And His Merry Men to come take them, without any bill of indictment, witnesses, defense, or any other shred of due process in common law going back to Magna Carta, you’d better send your minions in their serious Kevlar underpants, with their insurance paid up and their wills up to date, and leave the married men at home. Because at that point, the range is now hot in both directions, I shoot Expert, and that red range flag means “No quarter given, nor expected.”
Now, go home and think about your wife and kids. Your friends, family, and hobbies. Everything you hold dear.
That’s what you’re risking for me, and for you, when you decide a paycheck trumps the Constitution.
So think long and hard about whether today is a good day to die, for treating me like a criminal, when we both know I’m not.
Doing that is the day you decide to become a criminal.
And you’ll answer for it, both here, and hereafter.
The war may well end, someday, and either my side or yours will win.
But you won’t live to see it, if I have anything to say about it.
So, do you really want to make all kinds of enemies out of the last people in the country who think what you do is something worth having?
Instead of being so tewwibly, tewwibly fwightened of all those big mean scary-looking guns, they probably ought to be afraid of guys like Aesop, and the millions upon millions more of us out here nodding our heads in quiet agreement with his sentiments. Because it’s as Heinlein’s Sgt Zim said: There are no dangerous weapons; there are only dangerous men.
Aside: I’m going to put Vanderboegh’s hallowed halls into Ye Olde Blogrolle. Yes, I know Mike’s gone and the blog is defunct as of 2016, alas. But his stuff is every bit as pertinent now as it was back then, so I’m gonna provide myself with a handy reminder to go back and poke around in his archives now and then.