We are on the cusp of a new definition. This being those sharpening tooth in the “age” of the new leader.
What can we expect of the new breed?
I see hatred and malice in a black and dank, evil, evil world. Fearful men, and God-help-us, all at the helm. What will the world think? What will our enemy think?
They have revenge in their glare; I welcome their coming rage! I spit in its mad and corrupted, ridiculously ignorant and hollow skull socket.
There are those screaming for a certain term we like to use in the South-land.
I believe they will assuredly get it.
I have a pretty good idea that there are rogues at work who will get exactly what they seek.
What a legacy we will set for the youth who come up during this time.
We will see mettle of men tested, and to the extreme.
There is absolutely no question in my mind that the “real” battle did not end on election day; the real battle has only begun. The battle is for real freedom. True freedom of the kind the individual enjoys when he can walk down the street without military or police escort. When he no longer has to fear an attack that may come from such meek little men who must hide behind an entourage of well-armed militia.
Barely two days after the Obamageddon of ObamaNation we see the President-elect being “delivered” around town by men brandishing high-powered and lethal, fully-automatic hardware.
Welcome to the new prison yard. Our peerless leader and “humble” servant/warden must be escorted by a militia to go to the gym; they are a militia who might as well serve as wardens for the rest of us as well. Can any be free when our Commander is in chains?
There can be no freedom in this state of fear. And this fear will not subside with mere words. Taped addresses to a populace will not serve as “contact” with a constituency.
Real leadership is brash and unescorted. It is forged my men of utter confidence, of indomitable spirit. Men unafraid of death’s predatory stalking. Who will spit in the cavity of its hollowed eye.
It is Teddy Roosevelt charging San Juan hill, or taking Cuba by storm. Churchill in that epoch guerrilla battle with the Boer’s, or in later life with Adolph Hitler.
It is James K. Polk opening the White House to “any” from the nation who chose to knock on its hallowed door (yes, he actually had a real open-door policy to his constituents).
It is Andy Jackson shooting some S.O.B. off the capitol steps (and one just knows, the bastard deserved having his lilly-liver poked through his worthless ass, and for all perpetuity).
It is Ike storming the beaches of Omaha, and rolling through Europe until the talons of evil had been torn from its dying and withered claw.
And what of this generation that will be raised in such a “gulag-esque” world, where our own leaders must hide behind a vast and vicious array of soldiers of fortune ?
What can be born of fear, intimidation and imprisonment (especially when your leader himself is in shackles) ?
Look no further than Attica.
It is here that tribes of men are born. It is here where men cling to social strata…hunting parties and gangs. They are reduced to their caveman-essence. Dehumanized to the point of devolving to their knuckle-dragging ancestor and becoming at-one with him. Economic parity – you betcha. Hunter-gatherers all have the same opportunity, and compete for the same, limited resources.
They gather together to protect their respective colonies; they howl at the moon and the fear that lies in its frigid, dark shadow. They tremble in this dark, and their fear manifests in distrust extended even to their friends.
In these shadows, alliance is fleeting and ephemeral. You grab it when you can get it, but you must never expect it, and never hope for its renewal.
I think, in all honesty, we will witness the same fracturing in our great nation. Russia (and the aftermath of its “reorganization”) has set the stage; it serves as a foreshadow of what we can expect, here at home.
The world’s economy is melting down as I write. They will look for someone to blame, and there will be only mice, skulking in shadows and hiding behind Kevlar-clad sentry.
In our land, we will look for leadership, and see only feeble creatures who hide behind soldiers and talk a good game. How like Bin Laden our leader will be. He will stay in hiding in the shelter of the gulag and offer us taped words that will speak to some clandestine cell that in vile and darkened ignorance support him.
Lots of pretty pictures, I’d bet, strewn across the land as reminder that a man actually does “lie” behind the myth.
What a cave-dweller he will be.
It is important, saith the sage, to “keep one’s friends close, but one’s enemy even closer”.
Such times breed an absolute (and absolutely certain) level of mistrust. There will be fear throughout the land, and our leader will live in virtual underground (and how appropriate, given his affiliation to the likes of the underworld such as the Black Panthers, the Weathermen and the Chicago Seven).
All must be done for the unit – to preserve the tribe. To be heroes for their misbegotten ideology. Heros who hide behind soldiers, and toss bombs in the night.
What is that mantra? “United we stand” ?
I’ve been called a Deist for my affiliations, and I say, “SO BE IT”. I love the solitary God, and I believe He loves the solitary (and defiant) man.
There is a consecration in God, and I believe, in the resolve of this individual who emulates Him. There is a saying made famous in a Hollywood film “there can be only one” – and with that, I agree.
When it comes down to the nut-cuttin’, there is only God and those brave S.O.B.’s who turn to Him.
Our enemy has taught us a vital lesson (one we knew from the past, and have almost forgotten) – by operating in cells, there is no “head” to cut off (and watch as the “body” withers).
I for one say, to hell with unity. May God bless the solitary soul who stands in defiance of the evil horde, preaching from their prison cells behind their fortified walls.
But that’s what I think we’ve got here, boys and girls. One bohunkin’, smelly-assed cluster of stinkin’ assholes all gnarled up and twisted like a bunch of snakes in a cavern.
Hiding behind guns and soldiers, here in the gulag archobamago.
So what can be born of this in the dawning of such great change, an even greater generation, perhaps ?
There will be grit that is born in this, I say. Some tough bastards will be raised during this day, and they will use the skulking frames of fearful men as the very thing they rail against becoming themselves.
They will have to be tough, here in this gulag formed by such erudite “men”.
And as new tribes form and alliances congeal, it is my prayer and hope that they will always remember the solitary man who calls this cluster of ideologues for what they really are – a repressive regime of fearful little men who are only brash when they have an army at their beck and command. Such fearful little mice are they.
Cry freedom, America. Our cell doors will one day again be torn from the hinge-pins that now bind us and keep us, and that, as a betting Scotsman, by those free bastards who refuse to live in chains or hide behind armed guard.