Aesop has a little something to say in response to last night’s response to Sefton’s response to…well, you get the idea.
Having people, anyone, even those firmly on our side, calling for “MOAR ELECTIONS! VOTE HARDERER!!” is like watching a Spelling Bee at the Special Olympics, with the soundtrack provided by Retarded Kids’ Nails On A Chalkboard.
WHAT THE BLISTERING HELL IS IT GOING TO TAKE BEFORE PEOPLE UNFUCK THEMSELVES, SMELL THE COFFEE, AND WAKE THE FUCK UP?!?!?
Asking for 100,000,000 friends and neighbors.
Well, not so long ago I figured it would be gun-banning and -confiscation that was going to do it. After further reflection, I can to believe that the spark that would finally set off the powder keg was more likely to be widespread hunger. Currently, it feels to me more like (Not)Vaxx mandates, passports, and “Green Zone” camps will be the long-anticipated Final Straw. Honestly, though, we’re all deeply into SWAG territory at this point, where the flip of aa coin is about as likely to provide the correct answer as I am, or anybody else for that matter.
We tried the bloodless ballot-box revolution, so beloved of this nation the entirety of the time we were an actual constitutional republic. Now, however, we are manifestly neither of those things.
The other side decided the time had come, finally, to preclude that option. You think they’re going to give you a second chance on that, EVER?
The Other Side made the choice to end honest elections. On their heads be the consequences. Or hopefully, around their necks. And once a nation crosses that Rubicon, there is no other way out of what follows.
The only way this nightmare ends, EVER, is with rivers of blood, and mountains of skulls.
Ours. Or Theirs.
I vote for Theirs. I’m sentimental like that.
Seconded, with gusto, right down to the last syllable of it.
That said, though, I feel I ought to to offer a small caveat to all and sundry. To wit: NONE of us should ever make the mistake of assuming he has gleaned full and certain knowledge concerning what another of us is doing, is not doing, or might soon be doing, merely from reading a blog post.
Speaking strictly for myself here, although I resolved from the long-ago day this humble blog declared itself open for business that I was going to be completely candid and truthful in everything I wrote here, that commitment nonetheless does NOT mean that my every last opinion, idea, or deed will be chronicled on CF. In these days of Fedposters (or, as Expat hilariously dubs such vermin, “Glow-niggers”) skulking about everywhere—a time when every one of us is also under constant physical surveillance, being recorded, tracked, and logged under the ever-watchful Eye of Sauron every minute of our day—it is at best tactically unwise to helpfully provide The Enemy with any scrap of intel on your movements and activities he hasn’t already hoovered up.
CF Lifers probably feel as if, after years of choking down the swill dished out hereabouts, they know me pretty well. They’re not entirely wrong about that—but no, they don’t know EVERYTHING about me. They can’t, if for no other reason than that “everything” isn’t posted here, and in fact couldn’t possibly be. Even if I did want to put it all up for public perusal and discussion (which I assure you I do NOT), fact is that “everything” is just way too big to fit on a blog, no matter how comprehensive, ambitious, and/or narcissistic a blog it is.
Assuming you have full knowledge of what actions anyone is, has, or will be taking based only on a blogwriter’s posts is, as I said, a mistake—a damned stupid one at that, since the perpetrator could easily have avoided making it via the simple expedient of a moment’s careful thought. The mistake is compounded by its utter uselessness for our side, moreso by the potential usefulness it offers to our adversary, and most of all by one simple truth: thath
Especially in the blogosphere, especially in these increasingly parlous times, none of us can afford to be careless about the information we put out there for anyone with an internet connection to discover. Being too cavalier, too inattentive, too profligate with accurate, detailed intel on what you’re up to awards a tangible and quite valuable advantage to an enemy that is already well ahead on that score. Believe me, The Enemy needs no assistance whatever from you. So don’t give him any.
Much as it pains me to say, it’s time for us to consider what we’re willing to publicly say, how we say it, and above all, who’s listening in. No, I’m not advocating harsh self-censorship, exactly. Neither am I suggesting we all start taking counsel of our fears, mellowing our rhetoric, or God forbid, standing down altogether and just accepting defeat. We absolutely must remain open, forthright, and bold in both word and deed, now more than ever before.
But these times also require that we be realistic, wily, and fully awake to both the risks we run and the capabilities of our enemy. Things are escalating rapidly, the stakes getting higher, the situation becoming so fluid and unpredictable it’s ever more difficult to accurately assess. This is the time to be smart about all this, to be frank with ourselves about the approaching confrontation. It is assuredly NOT the time to be hanging any targets on our own backs out of impatience or inattention. Let’s none of us be showing The Enemy any more of our cards from here on out. If he is to gain the final victory over us, then let’s by God make damned sure he has to earn it—and that the price of victory is painfully exorbitant.
Literally, physically painful, I mean.
No quibble with a single syllable there.
We speak openly of principles.
We give up nothing regarding tactics, strategy, operations, logistics, intelligence, communications, or personnel.
1) First, conjure up the image of, say, Christopher Dorner.
One man who literally turned the entire state of Califrutopia on its head for a solid week. Single-handedly.
No tickets were issued on the freeway that week, because the CHP had – literally – every swinging Richard – sitting in an idling marked cruiser at every on ramp to every freeway in the state, waiting for Dorner’s vehicle to pull into traffic. 24/7, for days on end. (Which tactic, we note pointedly, failed rather spectacularly.)
The LAPD was so shook up, that in true Keystone Kops fashion, they mistakenly shot up two different vehicles that looked nothing like Dorner’s, and unloaded hundreds of rounds into them, on the mere suspicion that the Boogieman had come calling. (And, marksmanship aficianados will note, didn’t even so much as wound any of the occupants, unless you count self-soiling of their undergarments).
2) Now imagine C. D. had possessed the wit to not tip off everyone wearing a badge, by not sending them his whackdoodle manifesto, and had, instead, just gone out and done unto others, so to speak. He would have racked up 20-50X the body count, and even odds he would have continued running and gunning to this very day, with orders of magnitude more fear, demoralization, and chaos. And again, single-handedly. Just by practicing Rule One of Fight Club : STFU.
3) We are not addressing Dorner’s malfunctions and fevered imaginings vis-a-vis those he considered his tormentors. Look at this no deeper than how one person leverages what can be accomplished. Leviathan bleeds. And if you don’t wig-wag semaphore flags over your head, you can pass amidst the brush-beaters unscathed and even unsuspected, and bleed it anywhere and everywhere. Including the jugular.
“If it bleeds, we can kill it.” – Major Dutch Schaefer, Predator
Thus endeth the lesson.
Some years ago there was a spate of people being arrested because they’d opened their big, stupid mouths.* I talked to a couple cops I knew (deputies, small town cops, a county jail guard — no feebs or state police, who are 100% assholes in my experience) about this. They confirmed my suspicion that there’s a 90% chance that you can get away with a crime if you don’t make any big blunders and you keep your big, stupid mouth shut. The jail guard was sure that over half of the inmates were there because they’d talked, and thought it was probably more like 3/4.
* One, a father in Florida who’d taken his young daughters from his wife and hidden under assumed names for years. Then all of a sudden was caught, after something like fifteen years. (The wife was apparently a dangerous nutcase but that didn’t matter to the family court.) Two, a female cadet at the Air Force Academy, who helped her boyfriend kill another girl in their high school, and then told some academy classmates about it when asked “what’s the worst thing you’ve ever done. Three, a couple guys in my hometown who murdered a cabbie for the $40 he had, stuffed him in the trunk, drove to a friend’s house to get help getting rid of the body, and then just drove away when he declined to help, while he immediately called the cops. There were a couple others but I don’t remember them.
Another one the world seems mostly to have forgotten about: Lee Malvo, who with his young accomplice/acolyte/all-purpose rumpswamp John Allen Muhammad managed to all but paralyze a good portion of the Eastern Seaboard entire for about a month, with potshots taken through a hole in the trunk of his car.
Note also that, for all that the police in the DC area were dropping everything to tirelessly hunt for the snipers, and passing out lots of wrong information about who was doing the sniping, who the targets were, how they were getting around, and finally what make and color car they were driving, it was a handful of truckers who spotted the car at a highway rest stop and blocked them in before calling the police.
Note furthermore that, after the first few robberies (and just a few murders), the DC snipers stuck to places where the populace was disarmed. A bunch of us in hillbilly country were schadenfreuding all over that, you bet. And kind of kicking around ideas for luring the snipers up our way. Hey, guys, round here, you won’t be the only one with a deer rifle in the car.
Also interesting to note how the Anthrax Letters had DC soiling their drawers.
A different tactic and a different disruption, but in the same wheelhouse.
Or the Unabomber.
I’m thinking that an awful lot of people have come to that conclusion all over.
That’s one of the – possibly major – things that makes it hard to judge where we’re really at: a lot of formerly loud people on our side have stopped talking, and more importantly, stopped blustering.
I notice it in my admittedly limited slice of America down here: people like us aren’t talking a lot, instead, they’re glowering and muttering darkly in the bars and coffee shops and diners.
It’s a bit harder to judge right now because hunting season is coming up, but people out here in the hinterlands of AINO are also buying lots of ammo and firearms.
Beware the quiet ones.
Shoot, shovel, Shut up
I think the best thing to talk about online is running for school board positions, or county commissioner positions, or even for state representative positions – in those campaigns you can clearly state your positions and beliefs, and like one old lady in Wisconsin can actually get enough people to agree with you to get elected. It’s the speaking out which is the important thing, you’re not stealing sand, you’re stealing wheelbarrows… One of my great-grandfathers who became a Lieutenant Colonel in the Confederate States Army out in Western Missouri led an irregular militia – including Frank James and his younger brother, Jesse, Cole Younger and his brother, and William Quantrill – which was involved in what came to be known as “Bleeding Kansas” starting back in 1855. He eventually got captured by the Federals in 1861, was paroled by Lincoln in 1862, but remained an unreconstructed Confederate until the end of his life, still serving as Probate Judge, which he’d done since 1865. My grandmother, a century later, would still curse Yankee carpetbaggers at dinner, the divisions were that long and that deep. So running for office is a good way to get some important ideas out, perhaps we can avoid another mountain of skulls, we had enough of that in the 1860s…
As for talking about anything else, I wouldn’t do such a thing within range of a smart phone – or smart anything else – and especially not online. And stop carrying the damned things around. If your vehicle has wifi, rip it out, hackers can take control of your vehicle, lock the doors, and drive you wherever they want – and this has happened before.