Wednesday, September 30, 2009

The Big Lie

I was looking through the multitude of information out there that is available on our economy and realized just how many lies we are fed every day. We get more spin than any real meaningful data for us to plan our retirement, a vacation, or home purchase. From Unemployment to GDP, all the numbers are skewed to make the current administration look good.

We are spoon-fed bullshit by a media that refuses to dig for the truth. What good is any newspaper, TV news show, or online news outlet if they don't ask the hard questions, if they don't seek the Truth.

If they are not telling the truth, then what are they? Entertainment. This is evidenced by how much time is spent on the "human interest story" in every broadcast. What is Jennifer Aniston saying now? Did you see Demi Moore in her new fabulous bikini? How about you tell me the real unemployment numbers? Including those who are discouraged, or are forced to work part-time, or teenagers who would like a job but cannot find one?

How about we see a story where the hard questions are asked to those in charge? Ask obama flat out what his strategy in Afghanistan and Iraq is? And don't let him off of the hook until we get a real answer. Not a sound bite, a honest and unambiguous answer to a direct question.

We will not see such things in our lifetimes. Our world has been forever changed with the 30 second attention span we have adopted. I'm just as guilty as everyone else. All I am asking is to get honest facts in that 30 second blurb.

Everyone has their own agenda. Remember that. Even the bloggers who try to put together the real story are slanting the news one way or another. We all see things going down the tubes, but in reality, the majority of Americans are too stupid to realize the poop is hitting the fan, and that might be enough to avoid the big crash.

You never know. All we can do is set the bullshit filter to "high" and hope we can make sense of what's left.

Wednesday, September 23, 2009

Quick Post

Been real busy of late. A new MMO called Aion came out, been playing that pretty heavy. Working on the resume too, can't wait to be free of this crappy job.

After reading a post the other day on, I went to the store and got some Tang. I also got one of the other items I was missing from my preps and that was multi-vitamins. I had forgotten how insidious scurvy can be. The one thing you need to remember about vitamin C is that it become inert very quickly when exposed to oxygen. So get some Tang, and pack it up into week-long packages and vacuum seal them.

I didn't see another item on my list on sale, so I'll wait. Fiber supplements will be rather nice to have, if all your eating is meat for 3 months. The more I think of how poorly my garden did, the more I worry about feeding myself and my family greens when the poop hits the fan. I think that if your cooped up hiding from roving bands of mutant biker zombies, one of the only pleasures your going to have is to take a nice dump once in a while, right? I doubt my stash of liquor will last too long, so what little entertainment I get might be from my digestive tract.

I'm getting really worried. Things are not looking well at all, and I fear the "zombie apocalypse" might not be too far off. I'm still living my life, I haven't given up on the world, but I am prepping more and more as my budget allows. With the shortage of primers I am super glad I bought what I did.

I now buy almost everything in bulk. If I need toothpaste, I buy two, and put one aside. Reminds me I'm out of aluminum foil, but I'll buy a lot of that, the stuff is too damn handy. Buying extra now of the stuff I use now will make it easier to prep. The downfall is you wind up with a lot of food that needs to be inventoried. That's what the next big task for me will be. I need to see where I am light on preps and focus on getting that squared away. I bet it's protein, but I'm not 100% sure until I verify it myself.

Mum and "Bill" aren't prepping much at all. Although they are putting up some extra ammo, the food situation isn't going to well. To help with this I'm packaging up a care package for them to store. Everything inside will be vacuum sealed and will have a shelf life of at least a decade. This way if something happens to me, they will have enough food to last the a few weeks. When it's done, I'll be sure to post pics.

Thursday, September 17, 2009

Fiction - Part IX - Tea at Mum's

Something was hitting him in the head. Natog tried to open his eyes, but he couldn’t, and there was this awful screeching sound. He started to struggle but something was keeping him pinned to the ground. With a final THUNK, and the associated flash of light against his closed eyelids the hammering mercifully stopped.

It seemed his hearing was clearing up because the screeching was finally quieting down. Then something wet and cold was being rubbed over his face and eyes, struggling, he still couldn't move his arms, but he managed to twist his head some so he could stop the wet thing from suffocating him.

It stopped and his addled mind could start to make out a litany of "Oh my god I hope he's OK." over and over. Then a man's voice "Mum, he's going to be ok, I promise."

Finding his voice Natog managed to croak "Oi, it's just a flesh wound! But why can't I see?"

Bill's voice came from closer this time. "It's because you won't let me wash off the blood, dick-for-brains."

"Fucker, you were waterboarding me! And it's cold as a witches' tit."

Mum was still frantic, but she seemed to be calming down. "I'll get some more hot water."

Natog heard Mum go into the house. "Ok, Bill, how bad is it?"

"Er. It's a good gash. Mom was freaking out because we could see your skull."

"No shit."

"Yeah, fucking blood is everywhere, I wonder if you need a transfusion."

"Nah, I'll be alright as long as I can see. What the hell were you doing to me? hitting me in the head with a hammer?"

Bill replied, "It's the surgical stapler you gave to us for the first aid kit."

"No shit. Hurts like a bastard."

"I'm glad you were out cold, we washed the cut out with hydrogen peroxide, that would have stung."

"Just a little."

"Yeah a little bit. You gave Mum an awful scare."

"Yeah, sorry about that."

"You've been out here at least 20 minutes. What the fuck happened to you? Your Jeep looks like it was used for target practice!"

"Fucking redneck national guard. They have New Bedford locked down. I ran into a roadblock and they started shooting."

"Where? I'll go kill those fuckers right now."

"Let it go. The last thing I saw was one of 'em wrestling with the one that shot at me."

Natog heard the front door bang open and Mum come down the walkway. She was still alternating between the "Oh my god, I hope he's ok", and the "I'll kill the summbitch" litany’s now.

This time the water was hot, but not painfully so. Bill finally got up off of Natog's chest so he could help wipe his eyes clean. Finally able to see, Natog got up. It was a big mistake as the world started to spin and he barfed up his breakfast all over the front lawn.

"Easy there tiger, you have a concussion."

"Yeah, not the first time. Remember that day we went sledding in the woods?"

"Fuck yeah, we should have been wearing helmets."

"Help me into the house, My ass is frozen."

Natog looked around as Bill and Mum helped him into the house. There was a lot of blood, a LOT of blood all over the snow. With his head still spinning he let them carry and drag him into the living room where he was dumped onto the couch. Mum stripped the blood-clotted jacket and shirt off of him and wrapped him in several blankets.

Lying on the sofa, he noticed Mum hand Bill had brought the old woodstove in from the shed and had it hooked up to the fireplace in the living room.

Bill busied himself with tending the fire, "So it looks like the Berger's are going to sit tight down here for a while."

Natog watched his brother load the stove. "Why's that? Thought they would go up first chance they got."

"Well, it's cold up there, real cold, and they don't want to get stuck on the way there in an ice storm or something."

"You sound disappointed."

"Well it makes the most sense, we have food, and fuel, and up there we could survive!"

Mum came in with a bucket of water and some soap, and washed Natog's clothes sitting by the fire in her favorite easy chair. "I'm not ready to just leave, Bill, and neither are they, it seems."

Natog watched the flames of the fire through the little vent in the stove's door. "I don't think we could take everything anyways. I was doing an inventory, and I could fill my whole truck with just canned goods."

Bill sounded sullen, "So we leave some behind. We will still have plenty!"

"I know, but I think they have the right idea. If I abandon my house I know the local thugs will break in as soon as they can. Anything I leave I'll have to assume it's gone. I have the trailer, but even then there is no way I could get everything we could need. Plus, we are in no immediate danger here."

"Natog, could you handle something to drink?" Mum asked while she wrung out the fleece pullover and sweatshirt and hung them near the wood stove to dry.

"Hell yeah, I'm starving, but food might be a bad idea. Hate to waste it of I'm still out of sorts."

Mum went and made some tea from the kettle on the kitchen's wood stove. Returning with three mugs, she dispensed them to the family. "Ok, now what happened? I need to know who I'm going to shoot."

"Mum, It's the national guard from Nebrasksa, I think. They have locked down New Bedford."

"Why would the Guard from Nebraska be in New Bedford?"

Natog looked around at Bill's and Mum's faces. "Because New Bedford is burning."

Mum looked puzzled. "What?"

"At least 20 blocks are on fire, it’s a scene right out of hell.”

Mum looked a bit frantic, “I wonder if Ginny is OK.”

Bill gave Mum a hug, “I’m sure she is, Where did these National Guardsmen come from?”

“Looks like they were just about to be shipped out of Handscom when the lights went out. They were probably deployed to New Beige to assist the cops. I bet they'll be in Fall River, Brockton, etc. as well."

Mum looked concerned, "But why shoot? I mean if it comes to that..."

Bill chimed in, "The Federal government is tossing the Constitution out, and enacting Martial Law! We need to rise up and kill these totalitarian bastards!"

Natog sat up a bit during Bill's rant. "Easy there Sam Adams. Let's look at it logically. These troops were about to go to a war zone, and spent how many months in training to face a hostile population. I rabbited, and that was that, the training kicked in."

Mum turned the drying clothes and replied, "I don't know, but if anyone shoots at me I'm going to shoot back. And that is that."

"Hell Yeah!" added Bill.

"I agree, but I was outgunned, and out classed." Natog sat up more, feeling a bit better. "Now we need to figure out what we are going to do. It's tough as hell to keep in communication with each other."

Bill got a evil grin on his face. "I think I got us a solution to that." He got up and went outside.

"Want more tea?" asked Mum.

"Please, got some toast? I think I'd like to try some food."

"You always did love that as a child. I'll get the supplies we can make it here by the fire."

While Mum was in the kitchen, Natog got up experimentally and stood. Bending over he got a little dizzy, but he didn't barf, which was a good sign. His head was throbbing though from the rush of blood.

"What are you doing!" Mum cried as she came back in the room.

"I'm fine Mum, really. Just a bit lightheaded from the blood loss, but I'll be fine."

"You were SHOT in the HEAD."

"I wasn't shot in the head, it was a ricochet. It just proves just how stubborn I am."

"Got that right." Mum began warming a cast iron pan on the wood stove when Bill came bursting back in.

"Happy Kwanza!" Bill exclaimed as he tossed a few boxes on the floor.

Digging into the boxes, Natog and Mum pulled out a series of marine VHF radios. They were brand new and still in the box.

"I got a few real nice antennas too, we should be able to chat back and forth."

Mum asked the obvious question, "Where did you steal them from?"

Bill was still grinning like a fox in a henhouse, "I didn't steal them, I got their generator working, and took these in trade."

Natog and Mum exchanged dubious glances and Mum asked the next question, "Do they work?"

"Hell yeah, if we put the antenna high enough we should make the 20 miles to Natog's house."

Natog grabbed bill by the shoulder and looked him straight in the eye, "It's a good catch, but don't hang around these guys. The cops or guards will catch onto whatever they are up to. And If they will shoot at me for running from a checkpoint, who knows what the fuck they will do to a looter."

"I know, but when opportunity knocks, you got to run with it."

Mum handed Natog and Bill toast with butter, sugar, and cinnamon. While they happily munched away, Mum refilled their mugs with tea. After breakfast, Bill got suited up and went out to cut wood. Mum cleaned the house, and with Natog's urging she reluctantly went through the pantry to inventory what food she had.

With the supplies Natog brought last week, it looks if Bill and Mum were going to have enough food for the month, but that was going to be a bit tight, and repetitive. Looks like the old cans of green beans that haunted the back of the cupboard were finally going to get eaten.

Natog was feeling a lot better with the sugar and starch in his system, so despite the protesting of Mum, he went outside and cut and split wood with his brother. After a few hours, with lots of breaks, they had enough wood cut and split for a week, and enough wood brought in from the woods to easily last a month, once Bill cut and split it.

The source of the wood was hundreds of felled trees in the woods across the street and in the landlocked lot behind the house. Both property owners could do nothing with the lots because they couldn't pass perc tests, so they did nothing with them. Which includes harvesting damaged or felled trees, it seems. Bill and Natog were more than happy to provide the service to clean up the wood when Mum's money was tight, no need to ask permission, either, as the owners lived out of state.

Mum made lunch and called the boys in. A meal of leftover pasta from the night before with Mum's spaghetti sauce, sausage and the last of the bread made into garlic bread was just what the doctor ordered for Natog. During the meal, they came up with call signs and what channels to listen on at what times to monitor.

After lunch, Natog loaded the roll of cable, the antenna, and the radio into the truck so he wouldn't forget it. Then the climbed a tall pine tree in the back yard and hung the antenna as far up as they could. Running the cable into the house, Bill connected the VHF radio to a car battery. A few minutes after they powered it on, a message came over the speaker.

Mum looked up from her knitting, "Well looks like a few others have radios that are working too."

Natog picked up the packaging and sorted it into burnable and not burnable piles. "Yeah, I wonder how many base stations made it, the EMP must have fried anything hard wired."

Later on, after more tea, Bill and Natog went over his maps and managed to plan out a route through Dartmouth, Westport and Freetown that should avoid any major intersections. If they were going to go to Maine, then Natog would have to conserve fuel, which meant they wouldn't be able to see each other. With the radios they could keep in touch.

They busied themselves with patching the two bullet holes in his windshield with packing tape, and putting fresh snow on the blood in the driveway. There were two other bullet holes, one in the passenger side quarter panel, and the cross brace for his roof rack. Bill summed it up succinctly, "That nitwit needs to learn how to shoot!"

With plenty of daylight left, Natog drove down the back roads through Westport, then Freetown. Once in Freetown, he used bolt cutters he kept in his truck's tool box to cut the locks on the entrance roads through the State Forest. He closed the gate after he entered, and used a zip tie to keep the gate from opening on its own.

He drove with the window open a little, as the fresh air made him feel better. Also, the noisy Hummers could be heard far away with the radio off. It was just getting dark when Natog pulled into the garage. He had a hair over a half a tank of gas left. Feeding the dogs, he skipped dinner and went to bed after getting a small fire going to warm up the cold basement.

Wednesday, September 16, 2009

In Response to ADMIN

A quote by Admin on an earlier post.
I don't understand right wingers.

Why are you right wingers so worried about the poor that Jesus told us to care about when it is Big Business, Corporate Welfare, and Jacked up Defense Spending taking almost all your money? The percentage the dollars going to the poor, whether deserving or not, is minuscule in comparison.

Why don't you ever worry about the rich ripping off the bulk of your tax dollars?

That seems to be hunky doory with the greedy, evil, nasty, mean and racist rightwingers (and that's how I see y'all--simply as awful people).

They shill for corporate health insurance, Big Pharma, and anybody who PAYS off some loudmouth to rile them up such as Beck or Rush.

Talk about your stupid and dumb masses.

The Scandinavians are happiest with their government, dummies. They must be doing something right with THEIR tax dollars--oh, they're taking care of their common people instead of the rich like we do.

Duh, brain dead stupidos. Go get mad at the Mexicans they are letting in to do the rich man's dirty work for pennies so the wealthy can make a bigger profit at YOUR expense. Don't ever get mad at the rich who hire them.

Get mad at the poor and unemployed instead of corporations shipping all the jobs overseas.

Maybe you can march against the native Americans next. They get some tax dollars, a few, since most of them are dead.

Why don't you stupid right wingers just go and worship Satan outright?

You greedy and evil people deserve all you get. You are like th people who get scammed--played off their own greed.

It's too bad the liberals, the progressives who actually care about other human beings (that's the difference in a nutshell) might have to suffer too.
September 13, 2009 9:29 AM
First off, let’s get this out of the way: What the FUCK did you call me? A “Right winger”? Fuck you! Obviously your rush to judgment neglected to notice the fact that I am a Libertarian, which is on the Z axis of your little “Right vs. Left” or more appropriately, “Us vs. Them” world.

Your ignorance of what I stand for is as obvious as the lies coming from a politician’s mouth. I do not support large corporations, nor do I support the military-industrial complex, nor do I rally behind big pharma. Perhaps you should take a look at yourself, and educate yourself before coming onto my blog and attempting a feeble smear campaign. A few facts go a long way, my misguided troll.

Let’s take a look at ACORN, the poster-organization for the Liberals. They are under investigation in many states for voter-fraud, and pay their officers bigger salaries than most of the fortune 500 companies. So they get you to donate money for the poor, but yet stuff their pockets with the cash. The point here is that each side is flat-out wrong, and there needs to be a change.

The tragedy here is you cannot think through your position. I’m willing to bet you never thought to ask why half of my salary should go to taxes. And a large portion of those taxes are going to “feed the poor” who will not fend for themselves.

Let’s have a thought-experiment, shall we? Let’s say we have a single mom with 5 kids. She gets welfare to provide for herself and her family. The problem is that something given has no value. Let me repeat that so it sinks in, something GIVEN has no VALUE. So the food stamps are traded at half value for cash, which is spent on the drug of choice. The food stamp money wasn’t EARNED so it is WORTHLESS. I realize this is not always the case, that there are welfare mothers out there that just need a leg up.

How do I know this? You see, I was on welfare as a child after my asshole father left. Did my Mum stay on welfare? No, she worked 3 jobs to get off of welfare. It can be done, but the vast majority of welfare recipients do not see welfare for what it is: SLAVERY.

That’s right, Slavery. Slavery is when your will is surrendered to another. It doesn’t matter if it is voluntary. These people are subjecting themselves to suckle on the rotten teat of the government. They mindlessly follow the path of entitlement and are used as political footsoldiers by the Liberals.

Now, to continue our thought-experiment, what if instead of a handout, we give education on how to better stretch the food-dollar. By baking bread for 25 cents a loaf at home instead of $3.75 a loaf in the store? Employ her part time at a reasonable wage filing paperwork in a government office, and performing data entry on old birth certificates, etc? Some of these welfare-mothers would work in a day-care with a certified day-care employee that runs the joint. That would be their job. These jobs would have a “three-strike and you’re out” rule so if you’re fired for smoking crack, then you have two more chances and then you go hungry, and the kids are put in foster care. Bet your ass these mothers would work like hell for that money, and that money would have VALUE, because they WORKED for it.

So what’s better? A handout, or work? Education in a career (probably not glamorous, but a career) or working the street to make a score? This is the limited thinking of the progressives that drives me nuts. You don’t think that the Left is not in bed with Corporations? That Big Pharma isn’t behind the National Healthcare being rammed through Congress? More healthcare = more patients, more patients = more profit. Stop being a fool and open your eyes for the truth. You really, really, need to read Atlas Shrugged. Your eyes would be opened by what the Mouchers and the Looters do. Then again, you might be cheering for them. At least I can try to convince you of your folly.

You criticize me for being part of a “stupid dumb mass” but in the last few paragraphs I have provided you with a positive, clear-cut solution to some of the poverty in America. What suggestions have I heard from the Progressives? None. Nothing but more of the same shit that is obviously not working.

While I am on the subject, you refer to yourself as a Progressive. If you have read anything of history you would not refer to yourself as that. Progressives were behind the Eugenics programs of the 30’s which was a direct influence on National Socialism and the slaughter of millions. Even in America the Progressives are directly responsible for the forced sterilization and MURDER of thousands. I suggest you quietly contemplate if you really do want to call yourself a Progressive.

If you do you will be supporting the following:
Protesting the government would be a crime
Forced sterilization of all criminals (regardless of severity of crime)
The abolishment of the middle class by taxation
Increasing reliance of all families except the political and industrial elite onto welfare. That’s 95% of Americans on Welfare.
Subjugation of Americans to a Global State, where the Bill of Rights has no legal status.
Employment into slave camps to work for the few international corporations allowed by the State.
Just read 1984, by George Orwell, for the endgame of the Progressive State. I’m not joking here, I am DEAD FUCKING SERIOUS. After careful consideration, if you still claim to be a Progressive, then realize that when the uprising happens that we will be at war. That I am one of the 3%'ers that will rise up and destroy the Progressive State. I prefer action to to empty feeling of taxing someone else to validate my theft of thier hard-earned money.

I found a Bug-Out-Location?

I wrote this post from the “Berger’s” farm in Maine. I was invited to come up and hang out, and seeing as wasn’t on call this week, I made the trip up. He’s got a lot of land, and it’s very remote. The only problem is there are ICBM missile silos up here in Maine, quite a few in fact. I never would have guessed, but because of its remoteness, but still in the lower 48 it does make sense. I guess this is why JWR doesn’t rank Maine too high on his list of retreat areas.

Unless you’re worried about nuclear Armageddon, I think Maine is just dandy. You have to be prepared for the cold though. Here on the farm it gets to -30F regularly, and the maintenance of the animals in wintertime can take its toll. You need a lot of hands for the amount of animals he has up here. They have a couple horses, about a dozen geese (who I’m going to kill for getting me up at 4:30 am) a few ducks, two kinds of goats, pigs, pigeons, rabbits, a hundred chickens, and a llama.

That is a bit too much for two people to handle, no wonder Bill is up here all the time giving them a hand. That’s also why Bill, Mum and I have an open invite if the poop hits they fan. It is remote enough that a LP/OP isn’t needed, or at least I think the dogs do a better job, there is no way they would be able to provide for themselves without additional manpower. The two of them couldn’t hope to protect themselves from any kind of determined attack. The farm is a farm, not a firebase with 300m of cleared land around it.

The other reason is if the rest of the family convoys up here, they will need shooters, like Bill and myself to help them make the trip. There are 12+ major cities that you need to cut directly through to get here. The rest of the Berger family has not one clue on military tactics or what real dangers are out there. The Matriarch of the family knows the poop will hit the fan, and more importantly, she knows what she doesn’t know. That’s where Bill, myself and a couple others come in.

Works for me. Works for them. A win-win if there ever is one.

It is beautiful up here. The trees are just starting to change and the sky is clear and cool. Autumn in Maine is a grand time, it is my favorite of the 6 seasons they have. Oh yeah, Maine has six seasons, didn’t you know? You have Winter, Spring, Black Fly, Summer, House Fly, and Autumn. Black Fly season is legendary, as swarms of black flies roam for the blood of humans for a couple weeks in June. House Fly season is in the end of August, when houseflies swarm from who-knows-where for a few weeks. I talked with a few locals and they originally scoffed at the six season idea, but after a few of the farmers agreed, they all decided it was a keen observation from a Masshole like myself.

The whole point of the trip was to see a 4ish acre parcel of land with a cabin for sale for ~$10k. I never got to see it because of a few scheduling issues. I’m pissed, but that’s Bill being Bill. I’m going to have to make the trek up there soon to see it before it’s snowed in. Once the snow falls the only way in or out of this cabin is by snowmobile, or on foot for the 5 mile hike to where the roads are plowed. So I need to get up there sooner, rather than later.

I’ve always wanted some land in remote Maine, for camping. Now, it would make a good place to run too, but the Berger’s farm would be better. The small town has a medical center that would come in real handy, along with other infrastructure that the cabin would be too remote to use. I know people are thinking about a town + lack of food = lawlessness, but in this part of Maine, just about everyone has chickens, goats, or pigs they raise to fill the freezers for the winter. Plus the game is plentiful, and the population sparse. IF I make the drive up here again, I better see this place or I’ll strangle Bill.

Tuesday, September 8, 2009

The Liberal Mindset

Sorry for the delays in posting. Work has seen fit to block all access to any blogging or related site. I'm working on a solution to bypass these blocks, but I need to do it carefully so I don't get in trouble.

I've been trying to understand the liberal mind set. For the life of me I just cannot understand how people are willing to let their hard-earned money go to support those who will no care for themselves. Not that I fault those who get the handout, after all Thomas Paine said: "What we obtain too cheap, we esteem too lightly." In other words you do not value what is given, only what is earned. It's human nature to stay on the dole, why work when you can eat for free?

Now let's us separate right now those who truly cannot fend for themselves and those who can. I know several people bound to wheelchairs, and they have jobs. One's a banker with CP, and the other has a spinal injury who is trying to find a job after being laid off from an insurance company. I also know two people who are fully able to work, but yet are on social security. It's infuriating to see such rampant abuse of the system. So for those that are truly disabled, this rant is not directed at you.

What percentage of freeloaders vs. deserving recipients are out there? We will never know for sure, but I'm betting the percentage isn't as high as one side will see, and not as low as the other side believes. For the sake of argument, assume that 75% of all welfare and those on Social Security Disability are actually able to work. Maybe it's not a great job, but it's solid work. If I had the cash, I'd hire all kinds of people for a tech support center where you work from your home... but I don't have the startup money. Who cares if you're in a wheelchair, or missing a leg, or allergic to everything? Read from cue-cards as tier 1 support or "technical routers" to make sure you get someone who's accent you can understand. But, I digress from my point.

Or do I? Isn't it better to teach a man to fish, rather than just give him one? This is why I hate welfare so much. Teach these folks how to make a living and have a family, rather than sucking on the teat of slavery. make no bones about it, for that is exactly what it is. Slavery. the Welfare State wants everyone under the control of the State. This way the population is easy to manage, as they cannot take care of themselves then they will always support the State or starve.

I was at a bar the night Obammy won the election. You could tell the liberals because they finally have "hope" that this snake-oil salesman, and ALL politicians are snake-oil salesmen, won. What a farce. Now the talking heads (not the band, silly) can talk about reparations and race equality. Bleh. Most liberals I know are anti-American. They might not think they are, but in truth they want America to have feet of clay. This is why such nonsense as reparations and apologies for slavery are brought up. My family owned a plantation in the south. My family owned slaves. Am I proud of it? Hell no. Should I get on my knees and beg the forgiveness of every black person in America? Hell no. I am NOT my ancestors. I am NOT responsible for anyone's actions but my own. My apology for Slavery would be about as impactful and meaningful as apologizing for the bird that shit on your car the other day.

Why do they want us to feel bad about the country we live in? I mean, any rational person knows that America has screwed a lot of people over. The Native Americans, most if not all of South America, and a healthy dose of people in southeast Asia. And then we fuck over a lot of our own population too, don't forget. So if everyone apologizes to each other can we get on with trying to do better in the future? But the Liberals want us to march to their drum. They want their path to be the only available option. If we are not constantly reminded of our own fallacies and spend all the time hugging each other than we cannot come up with better solutions to the problem. It's like they want to focus on the problem instead of working out a common solution.

I equate the liberal mind set with vampirism. It bleeds the energy of the victim, until they are feeble and without the will to live. Wealth equality. What a load of bullshit. There has never, ever, been a time on this earth when there wasn't an inequality in wealth. Even if Bob the cave-man had a pretty rock he showed his cave-woman, then he was wealthier than Frank the cave-man. Steve showed them both up by having a nicer cave closer to the river. To see why wealth re-distribution is such a load of horseshit take a look at prison. Yep, the prison world is the most tightly controlled economy in the world, but yet there are those that have more than others. Even look at online virtual economies, like in MMO's like World of Warcraft. Those who put in the time and effort have more money than those who don't. Wealth inequality is a natural state for humanity. Even if we took all the money in America, the land, and cars, everything and divided it equally. I bet you anything that within 10 minutes someone would have more than someone else.

Whilst tilting at the windmills of wealth equality, Liberals will tax, regulate, ban and outlaw anything and everything to get it. History has shown that budgets are always over-inflated with promised to fix this ill or the other, betting that the utopia will be here to make it all better. Hate to be the killjoy, but utopia's not coming. Liberals are the eternal optimists of the most dangerous kind. They max the credit cards today, because they will win the lottery tomorrow.

Responsible capitalism is the most beneficial, sustainable economic model we have developed in the ~10,000 of human civilization. But we are led to believe that capitalism is evil. Hogwash. What we have now isn't a free-market economy, it's a maze of self-interest groups battling it out for the scraps left from the government's table. They say the love of money is evil, Ayn Rand maintains it's the root of all good, and I tend to agree with her for the most part. Money is a tool. I love my 28 ounce framing hammer just as much as my savings account. Although I have to admit I love my delta unisaw more than money :)

We are in a time of change, but the grassroots backlash against the two established parties is going to be the change, not some catchword from the liberal elite.

Tuesday, September 1, 2009

Fiction - Part VIII - Running the Blockade

Natog left that morning to go to his mother’s house. He only made it as far as Route 140 before he saw the plumes of smoke. New Bedford was burning.

Thick, greasy clouds of smoke billowed from several areas of the city. As he stopped at the roadblock manned by a State Trooper it looked like the heaviest concentration was coming from the southern end of the city, where the old mills were concentrated.

A Trooper got out of his cruiser and walked up to Natog as he was gawking in the middle of the empty road. “Sir, please turn around.”

Natog came out of his trance. “Uh. Sure.”

The trooper looked a bit stern, “Right now, sir.”

“Uh… yeah. Hey, would you like some hot chocolate? I was on my way to Mom’s to help her cut some wood.”

There was a brief crack in the “Cop’s Mask” On the trooper. “Sir, if you’re not on your way back in 5 minutes I’m going to toss you in a cell, get it?”

“I get it, but you are out here freezing your beans off, and I’m not going to drink all this myself. Maybe it’s bribery, but I need to get to Mom’s to cut wood for her or she will freeze tonight.”

“Your Mother heats her house with wood?”

“Yeah, since ’72.”

“Ok out of the car, please keep your hands where I can see them.”

“Yeah, I am armed. My license is in my wallet.”

“Really. When were you going to tell me? “

“As soon as you asked me to step out of the car so you could frisk me before you had some hot chocolate.”

“Wait a minute, I’ve met you before. Your friends with Joe on the night shift.”

Keeping his hands visible, Natog nodded his head enthusiastically. “Yeah I met most of the Middleboro barracks, but I was doing Jägermeister Ice Luges that night. That was a good night.”

“Yeah you were pretty lit, At least you didn’t drive home. Ok, get on out.”Natog continued the conversation as he slowly got out of the car. “I never made it home, fell asleep on Joe’s porch.”

“That was a heck of a party. Sig P220, nice pistol.”

Natog handed over his license to carry. “Thanks, I went with the Sig after I shot Joe’s at the range, got the .45 for more pop.” Natog finally could read the nametag, ROSENCRANTZ. Somehow, the alcohol fueled memories managed to work while sober. “Roswell, right?”

“What you say?”

“Your name, you go by Roswell, right?”

“Well not really.”

“Hey, YOU were the one doing ice luges of Jägermeister with me. And that hawt cop from the Brockton Police…”

“Yeah, that was me.” Roswell replied as he tucked the Sig into his duty belt. “Anything else on you?”

“Nope. Didn’t buy a backup yet.”

Natog met “Roswell” at Joe’s memorial day party a last year. The other Troopers busted Roswell’s balls because he fervently believed in UFO’s and that ET’s existed. Other than that, he was a normal enough guy.

Natog pulled the thermos out of the back, and made sure Roswell could see everything he did. It wasn’t too cold out, it was in the high 20’s with only a light breeze. Roswell’s cruiser wasn’t running, so they must be low on fuel. Roswell got into his car and motioned Natog to the other side. Other than a battered copy of “Chariots of the Gods”, there wasn’t much mess on the passenger seat. Very unusual for a Troopers car.

After poring himself a cup of hot chocolate in the thermos top, and pouring Roswell some in a “recycled” coffee cup, Natog asked “So what’s going on in New Beige?”

“Well someone must have torched a few of the mills. Those things will go up, go up quick and hot from all the oil in the wood.” Roswell was referring to the practice of soaking down the wooden floors in the textile mills with oil to keep the dust down in those sweatshops in the early 20th century.

“Yeah, I used to rent some space in one with Joe. Was a lot of fun. After 75+ years you still would have anything directly on the floor soak up some oil.”

“Yeah at least five of the big ones are on fire now. The other fires are from homes, knocked over candles and kerosene stoves too close to drapes.”

“Jesus, how many blocks are on fire?”

“Over twenty.”

“My God. What are they doing with the homeless?”

“Well, the Red Cross has a shelter set up at the high schools, but a lot of the people got out with nothing. Most figured the power would be back on.”

“I wouldn’t count on that, passed by a few transformer stations a few days ago and they all looked like they had a barbeque.”

“Yeah, and everyone with a generator is low on fuel. Even St. Luke’s Hospital is down to a few days of diesel.”

“Wow, that is not good. How are you guys holding out?”

“Doing well enough, we are all working double or triple shifts. I can’t wait for the overtime check.”

“No shit.”

“Yeah the wife isn’t too happy, but we got a shitload of MRE’s delivered to us from the Guard. They suck, but it’s better than nothing.”

“That was nice of them.”

“Nice my ass, it’s some sort of contingency plan. They need us on the street to keep the peace, so they make sure our families are all set. Cathy and my daughter are staying with the sergeant’s fam along with a few others. They have a diesel genny, and they got extra fuel from the Guard too. They are setting up something at Otis AFB too.”

“Like in hummers and shit, you’re fucking with me.”

“Seriously. Full combat load. They were in Hanscom due to ship out for a tour when the shit hit the fan. Get this, they are from Nebraska or something.”

“Rednecks in New Bedford… Wonderbar.”

“Yeah, well, they will be taking over this checkpoint soon, and then I can hit the rack for a whole four hours or so before I go back on shift.”

“Waitaminute, full combat load, what the fuck’s up with that?”

“I don’t know. Guess the Guard’s worried shit will turn nasty. Last night, I had to bust up a pimp putting his girls out in this weather for food and jewelry.”

“What! Now you’re really fucking with me.”

“No way man, you could get your wick dipped for a fucking ham sandwich.”

“Hey, Gimmie that hot chocolate back, I got to head to Brockton!”

“Yeah yeah. Fuck you.”

“Other than the weird shit, nothing big going on?”

“Thankfully no. The LT thinks it’s because it’s cold. If this shit happened in July… Let’s just say it would be a lot more criminal.”

“Well, I’m supposed to get to Dartmouth, what’s the best way to get there without running across any more road blocks?”

Roswell gave Natog a sidelong glance. “Took you long enough to beat around the bush.”

“Well, you know…”

“Yeah well forget it. All major roads into and out of New Bedford are blockaded, and you can expect checkpoints at all major intersections, with patrols out in the city. They are not going to let you through, and if they do, they won’t let you back out.”

“What are they doing with troublemakers?”

“Jail. The courts are all shut down so don’t do anything stupid. Rumor has it they are putting tents up at Hanscom AFB to make a makeshift prison camp.”

“Bull. Shit.”

“Seriously, it makes sense. What else we going to do with all the criminals when they start stealing food?”

“I dunno. I wondering if I should pack my shit up and head to mom’s.”

“If you have food, I’d stay put.”

“Yeah I have some left, I went grocery shopping the day before it happened.”

“Lucky bastard, my neighbor had nothing, had to give him a couple MRE’s.”

“What’s he going to do for more food?”

“I don’t know. FEMA or the Red Cross is at the high school.”

“Hmmm. Any way to get a message to my mom? She is going to be worried sick.”

“Not from here, this car was towed here, it’s fried.”


The two men chatted for another half hour, until a couple of humvees could be seen making their way up from New Bedford.

Roswell and Natog got out of the cruiser while the hummers were still a mile or so off.
Turning to Natog Roswell returned the pistol. “Put that away, they might be confiscating weapons.”

“Right. Thanks.” Natog quickly put the pistol back and pulled the fleece jacket over it.”

The Hummers pulled up, still painted with desert camouflage. Two men jumped out of the first hummer. The first wasn’t more than 25 years old, with a lieutenant’s bar on his collars. Both had Assault rifles, and web gear over their parkas. Natog distinctly noticed that they had grenades on their gear, and both hummers had M60’s. Although they were not manned, and no boxes of ammo was mounted.

“Trooper, you are relieved. The civilian will put his hands on the car and submit to a search.” The accent was definitely Midwestern.

Before Natog even started getting pissed off, Roswell looked the kid square in the eye, “He’s with me, he volunteered to run food to us out here from the barracks.”

The young lieutenant turned towards the trooper. “This is a guard operation, and therefore I am in charge here. If you have trouble with that, I can kick it up the chain of command, and we can see who’s boss has a bigger dick.”

“Now you listen here, this isn’t Afghanistan or Iraq, so you can that shit for when your in-country.”

The lieutenant eyed Natog up and down. “Very well. He will give you a ride back to the barracks so I can send my second squad out on patrol.”

After Natog and Roswell climbed into the Jeep, Roswell muttered “Little prick” under his breath.
“No shit.”

The two men continued to chat on the ride back to the Middleboro barracks. The drive was uneventful, and the streets were empty of cars.

After pulling up to the barracks, Roswell got out of the car, laughing, and said, “Don’t get caught.”
Natog laughed “I won’t. Think they have orders to shoot?”

“Nah. You will be fine, just stay away from the main intersections, and take a lot of weird turns to outrun the radios.”

“Take it easy Roswell. Good luck with your famliy”

“You too, thanks for the hot chocolate.”

Natog turned his Jeep Grand Cherokee back towards New Bedford. The problem was that there was no way to get through to Dartmouth without either going through New Bedford, or cutting across the tip of Fall River and then through Westport. All of which were on main roads with obvious chokepoints.

Pulling over to the side of the road, he broke out a street map of the area, and plotted out a rough course. The eastern side of town was the “rougher” section of town, being close to the docks. So he would have to cut through the industrial section to the north, which might be patrolled. At least Natog was very familiar with the city after years of horsing around with his friends in a variety of shitboxes.

With a last glance at the map, he folded it up so the western side of the city was highlighted, and tucked it in-between the seats.

He ran into his first patrol in the industrial park. Spotting the hummer in the distance, Natog quickly started a series of turns, then pulled off into a parking lot. Pulling in behind the building, he turned off the jeep, and got out. With the freeze-thaw cycles of the last few days, the roads were pretty clear, so no tell-tale tracks were there to give him away.

He could hear the diesel engine on the hummer as it came slowly down the road. After it passed, Natog waited a few minutes before starting up the jeep and continuing on. He made it through the rest of the industrial park, and the North of the city without further incident.

As he made his way along the western edge of the city, He was shocked at the pall of sooty black smoke coming from numerous homes, stores, strip malls, etc. No firefighters could be seen. Wondering if they were all trying to keep the high schools safe from the flames, He continued, avoiding the burning blocks by weaving through the city. Once past the fire’s front lines, he saw many families frantically climbing into military trucks. Evidently they were being evacuated. There were a few working cars, all fully loaded with whatever precious belongings they could grab before the flames could claim them.

As Natog approached Dartmouth, he foolishly used a main road, and stumbled across a road block. Two humvees were blocking the street with soldiers inside to keep warm. As Natog approached two got out with weapons and motioned for him to stop.

The two soldiers trained their weapons on him and began to approach. Natog just about shit his pants. The last thing he wanted to have happen is get shot by a couple of nitwits trained to go to Iraq, who were stuck in America. Natog had stopped about 50 yards from the humvees, too close to try to drive past them. So without thinking, he dropped it into reverse, and floored it.

Cars were made to drive forward. This is what must have saved him. That, or pure blind luck. When you drive backwards really fast, the car tends to wobble a little. The soldier on the left raised his weapon and began firing, the first few rounds were hopelessly off target, but Natog heard several slap into the Jeep. Jacking on the brakes and cutting the wheel hard, he brought the Jeep up on two wheels in a half-assed J turn. Slamming it into drive, he glanced back at the roadblock where one soldier was obviously yelling at the other, with his muzzle held up in the air.

Gunning the engine, Natog roared back the way he came. Natog tried to remember the statistics of the HMMWV form Twilight:2000, a post-apocalyptic RPG he used to play. He remembered that they were not as fast as gasoline cars, but they were true off-road vehicles. His only hope was to outrun, or outfox, them.

Cutting across several rights and lefts, Natog made a roughly circular path until he was heading back south. The Humvee following him was in the distance, cutting across lawns and parking lots to keep up. Natog knew these streets like the back of his hand, having lived here most of his life. This knowledge is what enabled his escape. Cutting back and forth he pulled a screeching right across Mr. Kimble’s side yard, between two houses too close together for the wide humvee to get through. A quick left and right and another right and he was parallel to his original path. Another left and right, and he pulled onto the road sideways about a quarter mile farther south on Tucker Road.
A few minutes later, he pulled into his mother’s driveway. Turning off the Cherokee, he sat and shook for a few minutes as the adrenaline worked its way through his system. Calming himself down with slow steady breaths, he popped the hood and got out of the car. With his hands still shaking, he checked the radiator and engine.

Strangely, there was red fluid on top of the valve cover. He wiped his brow and saw where the fluid was coming from, a gash on his head was bleeding profusely.

Natog just about went into cardiac arrest, thinking he was shot in the head. Suddenly, the world was spinning, and the last thing he remembered was the taste of blood, and the crunch of snow as he fell into darkness.