“Fuck You America, We’re Doing This”

     That line is from a recent novel by K. M. Breakey. The novel itself is undistinguished, essentially wish-fulfillment fiction, but that line is a perfect summary of the interval from November 7, 2020 to the present day. Indeed, nothing else could capture the grim arrogance of the Usurpers who have stolen this country from us.

     I needn’t recount the individual episodes for my Gentle Readers. You pay attention to events. You know what’s been going on. The recent raid on Mar-a-Lago, the predicate for which the Usurpers are determined to conceal, is just bitter icing for a sour cake. When President Trump is finally indicted, probably all I’ll have to say about it is What the hell did you expect?

     I’ve been concentrating, if that’s the right word for peripheral attention exerted in a weary frame of mind, on matters “around the edges:” principally developments pertinent to the sociocultural milieu:

• Rosaries as indicators of Christian white supremacism.
• Slow, sullen recognitions of black supremacism.
• The self-immolation of the world’s premier children’s-entertainment company.
• Our betrayal by the medical trade.
• The Quislings of “Conservatism, Inc.”

     There’s nothing hopeful-looking in there, is there? But why should we expect otherwise?

     In this Brave New World, you can choose your own victimization and parade it in the streets. As long as you’re opposed to something the decent majority holds dear, such as biological reality, you’ll get the benefit of the law, the media, and every doubt. Those who speak against you will be silenced and shunned – at the very least.

     Perhaps it could be worse. In Britain, vegans are attacking non-vegan restaurants. That will happen here too, if it hasn’t already.

     The portents are uniformly bleak. It appears that Americans have lost our spines. While the greatest experiment in human freedom ever conceived is being burned to ash by political arsonists, the most heavily armed citizenry in the history of Mankind is sitting on its collective ass. We’re drunk or high, obese from junk food, and mesmerized by the colored lights on our ubiquitous screens. We pause only for bathroom breaks, text messages, and the occasional whine of complaint. What would Sam Adams and Patrick Henry think of us?

     I’m exhausted. I feel I’ve said all I have to say. I can’t repeat myself any longer. I’d rather shout into a well and argue with the echo.

     What happens when “Fuck you America, we’re doing this” morphs into “Fuck you America, we’ve done this and there’s nothing you can do about it” — ? When will future historians say that point was reached? The election theft? The mass imprisonment and protracted torment of the January 6 protestors? The raid on Mar-a-Lago? Or will it be when the Usurpers’ Myrmidons come for our weapons and we meekly surrender them?

     After a nine year hiatus, I’ve rejoined the John Birch Society. It’s a course I heartily recommend to everyone horrified by the Usurper counter-revolution. Not only has the Birchers’ diagnosis of an “insider” political coup proved accurate in virtually all particulars, they actually seem to have some energy left with which to fight. They might be the last men standing. As for what comes next, we shall see.

     Put not your trust in princes…or politics. And don’t expect too much from me for awhile longer. If you need something worthwhile to read, the essays at this site are mostly excellent. If you’d rather have something from my fingers, you could read a few of these. I’ve marked them all down to $0.99 each, both at Amazon and at Smashwords.

     Back later, perhaps.