Only a couple of years out did the worst unfold which could have been predicted but wasn’t for the want of success and peace in the land.
Following the new found freedom of the red states and the inevitable need for rigid control of the economics and the people in blue states, both sides set about to make their power do the right thing. I remember the events. They’re with me every night to awaken me. It was surely history in the making. A chance for peace for the Nations. It was a chance to develop what Americans wanted in life.
Too soon though, there would be a deadly event beginning near El Paso. The people of the Nations were about to explode in an orgy of violence—an inevitable clash of ideas, greed, and authoritarianism. Too soon there would be a North Carolina in the East. The number of armed people on each side began to appear as if it were a repeat of something as confusing, violent, loud, and costly as many battles in history when people draw violence as an answer. It seems man can’t avoid killing each other and this gravest of sins will be with us until the very end of man. It will be the cause of the end.
Sam, and I heard the call to arms through the state’s militias and governments. Antifa were moving toward Texas at their closest point of entry from California and were advancing toward the red state in an undisciplined line to take power through violence. We left our homes to go to Texas. The range of fire varied from 500 yards to 200 yards. He sighted his rifle at 200 yards, adjusting the windage and elevation ever so carefully, precisely, deadly. He held his breath as he listened for the order. I sighted mine at 100 hundred yards and knew the elevation I would have to change on the rifle if the shot I had to take was further out. We all waited. On the line were man and women of every race and creed but who all were free and protected by the Constitution.
It was made clear throughout the citizen militia that the red citizens would not be the first to fire and the response from Texas must be completely self-defense. The sands in front of them became darker as now the declared enemy of the Red Nation bore down toward their line. Something had not worked in the blue states utopia and the people turned quickly to hate the states they were told was their problem. To stop the mass of Marxists now was the bane and the sorrow of the men and women who were of truth, of Texas. The reports were heard as Antifa were firing random shots toward the positions of the Texans. There were reports of the slaughter of a ranching family and their employees on the outskirts of the county.
I thought I missed my target with my first shot and quickly adjusted slightly to find the target. The next shot I saw brought down a figure at about two-hundred yards as his form could no longer be seen. My eyes watered up and I had to look away to clear them, pretending to be checking the action on my rifle. I heard bullets flying overhead and saw where some of the shots struck sands in front of the line. I heard the deafening report of the line of people now fully engaged and saw many attackers fall in front of them. Undoubtedly many were killed instantly while others were suffering wounds. The line maintained a rate of fire that Antifa couldn’t match as they fell and many ran back for cover; the thickest part of their line reeled back as a snake’s back and tail does. We patriots from all the red states in the east that gathered at the Texas border could barely see the effect they had but most people on the line could make out a retreat of sorts along a curved line of human beings who were bringing their vacant politics to Texas.
The Texas commanders were able to establish communication with some in Antifa even though it was impossible to know whether they had a command structure and whoever they could talk to would have any ability to remove their wounded safely—the first offer Texas made to the domestic enemy. The line was ordered to hold fire, safe their weapons, and maintain discipline cover and concealment. A majority of patriots were veterans with training and some experience while the majority of Antifa never served.
The landscape to the west had become a blood stained picture of humanity lost, chances to learn better gone, running into the dirt and sands beneath their torn bodies. When a militia is serous, high caliber and accurate weapons are used by most members, a factor obviously unforeseen by Antifa. There were heads, arms, and some legs blown away from their hosts in the grisly result of want and envy, entitlement and Godlessness. In less than a fraction of a second in time, many enemies knew no more of the earth and were gone forever.
The terrible result from the States Convention had not been foreseen by the senate and now was laid bare in front of the Texans. Their one time brother and sister citizens had crossed that dangerous line, had fired upon them in hate, and made their murderous intentions clear. We had to defend our people and our homelands. It was presented in some of their publications that to kill was a necessary action to take for the Workers Party, for their share and entitlements that were necessary because they were born. The Blue Nation became what was expected and could not support its people.
Still the trains of the new American migration were started up and on their way to respective states, respective systems of economics and more or fewer liberties. The battle was quickly brought up by media sources and shown for all to see on the internet and described in the fashion respective owners expected of their on-air talent. The blue states reported it as a victory for the western states. The red states reported the truth. Blue reported that Antifa soldiers were still attacking those that were called racist Texans (even though every race made up the ranks and the Red society) and the red media reported the sad developments of war and what appeared to be a large body count of groups from California.
They reported it was not known yet whether Antifa will continue their aggression. It was a solemn time for both sides. It was tragic, terrible, sad beyond all emotions, and grievous for real. It had only been a few months.
I waited and thought how wasteful but how predictable. The dust filled my nostrils, making breathing slow and burning. We’re in a civil war and there’s no escaping the fact. Things weren’t working so well in socialist blue and many want to reimagine the Nation. The blues want what the red has but not at the cost of capitalism and liberty. They still think and are convinced to death that they can make collectivism work in their own, new way.
The last thing most human beings want to do is kill another human being. It was a terrible end. It would never leave most of our hearts and souls. The fact was that we ended the life of other people in a flash, a grave thing to do and a nearly impossible thing to live with. Being forced to stop other human beings from killing us and ours was nonetheless on us to do. Many men and women cried that day and would cry again whenever their minds took us to that place tomorrow. We didn’t ask for this and didn’t want it.
“Oh my dear God, save us, help us.” I prayed silently as I saw that the Antifa people were not leaving. We learned the group had simply retreated a few miles west and may be forming up for a new advance on our positions. Reconnaissance was easy for veterans to make on them. We knew how man there were, where they were, and where they were going on a constant basis.
I knew from experience through the seventies, eighties and nineties that the hard core leftists are never satisfied and can never be happy with their lot. One begins to learn it is all an act on their part or a common psychological problem shared in a massive way with most of the hateful radical leftists. There are some people who cannot find it in their heart to be happy with their world, their country and so join other in the lashing out for changes. Every concession made, every allowance for such items as their language changes, their gender pronouncements, their labeling people, and their many taxes levied had been insufficient for them. Nothing was ever done that went far enough to satisfy them—for whoever desired all the things the central core of Marxist thought is entrenched, it is always impossible. God help us, I thought, prayed.
Do we have a right to live? Do we have a right to work and enjoy the fruits of our labor? Do we have freedom of speech? Can we offend others? (Yes, but it would be immature to do so except in those few circumstances where you must leave them in your dust after explain in adult language why you’re stepping away). Do we have a right to reject man-made ideas we find wrong? Yes. Do we have the right to refuse to cater to others? Yes. Do we—does anyone—have the right to force someone to believe as we do? No. Do we have the right to defend ourselves? Yes, and here we are in this age. We have to defend ourselves whether that’s through civic action or as is also true, the fist, and the gun if required.
I suddenly felt the pain of regret twist my torso in a muscle spasm that was very strong. It brought tears to my eyes as I twisted and turned to make it go away. But it would not go away easily for I was guilty as were millions of other Americans who hadn’t stopped the evil doctrine from being taught, taken on as required Marxist dogma and enforced throughout the land on children and set upon our young adults in colleges across the former United States. The Blue Nation had lost or tossed its faith and the toll was being paid in front of my eyes.
It all was set, not in a coffee shop, but on a field of terror and putrid ugliness that impressed itself on all the senses of those who were there. Susan would make a difference if she were here, I thought to break my mind away from what I was seeing. I could see her eyes, quietly encouraging him to be at peace. I could see spending time with her again to breathe in peace.
Susan would be a comfort to me with her quiet voice and smile. It was a gift she had and part of her, nothing artificial or that she had to make an effort to pretend’ it was simply her. I was happy that she wasn’t here but wished I were with her now away from this place. The hour of my regret was on me as it comes to most men. It was on me and had me in a vice grip that only being somewhere else, anywhere else that was peaceful and quiet could possibly solve and end the nightmare facing me and all the people on the line outside El Paso, Texas. I prayed and asked God to forgive me.
I squinted my eyes toward the western horizon and didn’t see any imminent threat. There were the shadows of many Antifa still gathered but they were not coming toward us. I thought of Susan and the quiet time we had in the coffee shop. I’d rather be there than in this place doing what we had to be doing in this place. I’d rather smell that aroma than all of that beginning to come in on the wind. At first it was a timid sampling that got his attention. I knew it would be worse. The rot had just started from their war. My guilt began to tear open the veil of self-assurance that protected me.
They were coming to Texas after the successful siege and takeover of Portland–again. The idea that anyone could want a different political way than their autocracy reeled their minds and spurred the need for people like the Texas line to violently confront such bricks of minds and hearts and change them or kill them all. It was a damn shame.
Patriots organized into groups of one-hundred armed defenders and formed up near I-10 at El Paso. Word of the Antifa force came from many sources of our forward reconnaissance and even from the media through messages on line so that it was easy to know where there was movement of these blue state anarchists in seemingly countless numbers. The Texans and other volunteers from several states had to stop them as in the new confederation formed by the Constitutional Convention, it was a state that had a large degree of autonomy from D.C. and the rest of blue states.
John Pickering was an oil field worker who knew of the impending attack from an on line source in his home. He knew what he had to do for the sake of his family, his state, and his church. He gathered up his firearms and the ammunition he could carry after arriving at El Paso. Hundreds of others were already gathered in pitiful resoluteness against invaders, former countrymen, who were bent on their destruction. There were no smiles. There were many prayers in solemn earnest to God for an ounce of His strength and courage.
Mark Smith was also from Dallas and a retired teacher who taught civics and government classes to his High School classes for decades. He never anticipated there would be a rainbow split of the Nation even though it was not quite one-hundred percent, it was significant and had to be worked out through legislation, a parallel of governing principles at one glance, but with very different philosophies.
“I thought the problem had been solved with the Convention,” John said to Mark, another patriot resting in the moment with the line of men and women, serious about protecting Texas.
“I know. Me too,” Mark answered.
“There’s never enough for the left,” a quiet man who walked in a shadow with his long rifle hidden by an oversized dark colored garment that covered him from his head to his ankles. It was tattered and foreboding. He appeared as a death itself, a master in his craft, a warrior covered by quiet secrecy and very lethal. I could see he was dark and wore a streaked partial grey streaked black beard that covered half his face.
“It seems impossible that they want to fight us for ‘stuff’ I guess… and so soon.” I said.
“Not really,” Carl spoke up. “Remember they were raised with getting anything they wanted. Them from the ghettos were taught in the streets that they could just get anything and everything,” he finished.
John and Mark turned toward him and didn’t voice anything but agreed with the comment by what could have been noticed by any observer nearby as practically coordinated head nods, quiet, plainly worried and angry at the same time about why they were in this place away from home.
“Nice to meet you,” John spoke first. The man acknowledged him but didn’t say anything more. John watched as he looked out to the front and scanned the horizon of pasture land and large old trees making up patches across the blanket of grass and sand. Visibility was good and the killing ground awaited those who wanted more.
Clouds appeared slowly to the north of the horizon and were moving in the direction of the line the patriots formed that crossed the Interstate exit, their stand against a moving army of Marxists. The wind suddenly picked up and most of the men and women knew that meant they were in the path of a fast moving storm.
“What’s your name,” John asked the covered man as he extended a hand out toward him. “I’m John Pickering, an oil field hand from down Beaumont way.” We watched a black man walk toward our small group.
“I’m Carl Smith. Ya’ll know why we’re here, right?” He said in a low tone.
“Yeah,” John said in desperate knowledge of what was ahead of them. “Mighty glad you’re here, Bud. This is Tim, Sam, Mark, and Jasper,” he said as he pointed each of us out.
We all knew why he came to the Texas border. Stopping those who would kill and destroy liberty was justified but deeply regrettable. So many had been influenced by false teachers in a world-sized secularist Marxist movement and knew little about the truth of freedom. The bad ideas had spread throughout our institutions and government and now had taken many minds with it. Carl knew history as well as any of us.
“Nice to meet you, Carl. Can I get you anything to drink?” I asked him. Carl was taller than me and his rifle was a 30.06 hunting rifle with scope. He nodded for the drink and so I brought him a cold Gatorade out of the cooler we had.
“We know,” Mark joined, casting his eyes toward the expected direction the army of darkness would use to come at them. “It’s going to be us who have to stop them.”
“True words, John. We’re here to stop those who are coming to kill us all,” Carl said as rain started falling on them from a northerly angle, wetting faces and many of their and our weapons.
*
It was 7:00 AM on the east coast when the first observation was made and passed about another Antifa group forming up with weapons in Virginia, a state that long ago went for one party rule. The communication was made to Patriot guard members in North Carolina to be on the alert. It was too early to gauge if their intentions were the same as El Paso but soon the North Carolina militias would know. They had scouts out to work reconnaissance covering many miles wide along the border with Virginia and Maryland. There would be real time reliable intelligence from the many sources who kept informed of every action and move the northeast tier were working.
*
The few men and women in the Texas bunkhouse who were initially called prayed together that North Carolina wouldn’t be an attack like what was tried in Texas. Surely they know what happened, I thought. That would mean a Civil War… again. Surely to God, we’re not doing this, I thought. I saw Jasper Higgins in tears, pondering in silence. He had been in war and knew it was the worst possible thing he has ever engaged in and he hated it. Normal people hate it. The most evil, wasteful, horrible thing one can imagine and the losses are never recovered. He painfully looked over to his warrior wife, Darla. “It’s only been a couple of years, Darla, and yet here we are,” he said.
“Ours went quicker because they were used to a life much different and thought it would just be the same—only more and better,” Jasper said and took a long breath. “And now, they’re coming for it all and ours will sadly be to give them their final need.”
“I’m so scared, Jasper. I don’t want to shoot toward anyone,” she said as she cried.
“I know. I don’t either. They’ll be firing at us, Darla. I wish you’d go home until this mess is over. You don’t need to be here, darling. I hope it’ll be short and done. Maybe they’ll turn back. There’s a chance they will once they see that we’re here and aren’t backing down.”
“I don’t understand how we got to this place, Jasper. I’m going home and I’ll have a good dinner ready for when you can come home too. I don’t think it’ll take ya’ll long.”
I heard the voices in a distance running toward him and getting louder.
“They’re forming up again!” came the excited deep shouts with they’re singular meaning, they’re deadly consequence.
I went numb and wasn’t thinking as I checked my weapon and made sure I had a round locked in the breech and ready to use to stop the needless aggression. I saw the faint look of their lines and heard the bumble bees swirling over my head again and as some of the patriots began to fall to the ground near me, I got down into a prone position to keep from getting hit. I brought my rifle up to aim and fire. I squeezed the trigger slowly and brought down an attacker at two-hundred yards.
From the distance the attacker’s chest area appeared to explode in a pop and he fell like a large sack would off a loading dock. He would never know any more on this earth. His joining the quest to conquer and subjugate had come to an abrupt end the instant the 30.06 projectile tore into his thin protection. I felt water in my eyes again and quickly wiped them on my shirt sleeve. “Damn,” I thought. “Just damn.”
Sam was in a mode of killing and his mind seemed to block any concern or regret. He did his job and the second man or woman was brought down one-hundred yards to his front. Other men and women on the firing line had their opening to kill as well for about three minutes. The three minutes that seemed longer than they were. The three minutes taken by the red state patriots stopped the second assault almost as soon as it had begun. The pink mist was seen in the fraction of a second it shows and then leaves all across the Antifa line.
Antifa had to retreat into the long journey back to California, Washington State, and Oregon. What was left of them had to return for medical treatment, rest, and peace. They would have to develop a different plan because force wasn’t going to work for them and their allies. Their losses were grievous because of an action a small central committee thought would work and it would take more years than they thought they had to recruit new blood.
They left the field and left their dead and seriously wounded to lie in the sun and cold nights. Antifa knew that most of the red state people complicated their lives with old-fashioned sense of compassion and hearts of the unnecessary element referred to as love for their fellow man. Most of them still adhered to the notion that it was all for the love of the state and for the greater good with every collective action. The burden of rescuing those who were wounded fell to the red staters if they were to be rescued.
The people nearest to my firing position on the line of Texans included Sam, John, Mark, and Carl. I heard myself shout out that I was going to check on the people who were calling out as they cried for help.
“It’s what we must do,” Carl surprised us all as he was the first to stand up and shout then walked quickly out in front of our lines. We stood up, shouldered our weapon, and grabbed a first aid kit to go out fast and begin to render aid.
“They’re gearing up to go out, ya’ll,” Mark said as he pointed to their left where a large group of men and women were running toward each other at a center point.
“Let’s go to them, I’m with you, Carl!” Sam quickly said.
“I’ll join you guys,” Mark quickly said.
“I’m coming too,” John quickly said.
The militia commanders were sending out ambulances and Humvees full of Doctors, Medics and supplies to mop up what was left of the attackers. I and those who were with me ran to the vehicles and command post to offer our help in searching for those who were wounded. The red staters who were killed and wounded by Antifa were already in the clinics set up behind the lines and were being treated by red state doctors and nurses.
We arrived quickly at the first survivor from Antifa. Sam saw him bleeding from his thigh and began to press the wound with a large sterile first aid pad. He looked into his eyes while he stopped the bleeding as best as he could. He was silently begging for help. The man’s femur was most likely fractured in a serious wound as his femoral artery was cut or deeply nicked. Sam knew he had to get a doctor to attend the young man quickly.
“Carl, can you get a doc for this one while I keep pressure on the shot?”
“Will do. Be back in a hurry,” Carl said as he turned and ran toward the Humvees nearest them.
Sam turned back to the man who was wounded. “Try to stay still, man. We’re getting a doctor over as quick as we can. Don’t worry. You’ll be all right.”
The young man stared at his rescuers; his eyes were wide open. These were the people he was shooting at just minutes before his comrades deserted him in a patchy, hot sand desert-like field. They didn’t even try to help him and it confused him. They claim that their cause was just but they’re willing to leave him on the field to die alone. It was supposed to be equal treatment for all. It was to be justice tempered by race and life opportunity. It was to be collectivism in its purest form, administered by a caring government. None of it works. All of it was a lie. He felt that he had a migraine grip his head on top of his serious leg wound.
The pitiful sight on the land to our front was a damning act by man, again. I took some counsel from Carl and John as we returned to our line. Proud to be with them, I marched as I’ve done long ago in my youth, with others who were of the same mind for the time it took to turn danger away from our homes. Never did I ever think this would be the culmination of our Republic, the result of our States Convention, and the failure of a system many knew would fail.
The wonderful quiet and sudden peace left for those who gathered in Texas as the enemy retreat back west replaced the noise, blood, the most terrible of human drives, the carnage that results from its full expression was more beautiful than the sunset of red and yellow on the horizon.
*
The next day I traveled with Carl and Mark into Dallas where we attended church services together in with a congregation of Missouri synod Lutherans gathered to receive the sacraments of forgiveness and communion. Being there gave me a feeling of well-being and peace throughout my body. It was a wonderful morning for the three of us as we returned to the truck we used for the trip. There was some news being broadcast about the horror of the fight, and there quickly another news item.
In the quiet following the horrendous storm in El Paso, nothing was developing further in Virginia. Leadership of Antifa saw and learned. They would not challenge North Carolina and South Carolina, Tennessee or Florida the states where most of the militia would respond to their armed march toward their Republic. It was quiet but there were rumblings as the left never stop, never can be satisfied, and have shifted back to their original methods to make the public tired and weary of them to the extent they would be willing to give in to their demands.
So it is. So it will be. Freedom lovers have to be just as steadfast in their belief in God almighty and His word and that it is He who granted us rights as human beings, not government. We must be vigilant to defend our knowledge of our rights because the onslaught of greed and envy will be forever present in the world.
*
On the way back to El Paso for the final cleanup, we heard about a planned march up in my home town of Nashville and didn’t think much of it. These activities were harmless enough and amounted to little more most of the time than publicity for the people leading them. There had been a killing downtown. A Hispanic police officer was involved and a black teenager was grievously injured as he resisted arrest and drew what the officer thought was a gun. The young man later died following the exchange.
I don’t know any more of the details since the media reported little information other than it was a drug related incident and the teenage perpetrator who died was armed. I assume the authorities will get to the bottom of the case and handle it appropriately. I also assumed a protest march being organized this early was to serve the anti-police movement interest more than the teenager or his family. I know the lawsuit is bound to come and every taxpayer would pay for the officer’s actions in most cases whether or not it was justified. I’m one of those taxpayers.
If the officer screwed up and killed a person for no reason, then we are liable and should pay—though any amount of money is hardly compensation for such a tragedy. He should lose his job. He may also be charged for murder or manslaughter, depending on the true facts of the incident. We should be more careful about who we hire and the nature of training done to prepare police officers. If the officer was justified, there should be a judgment in favor of the city and the officer involved—the case dropped as a lesson to any person who threatens the life of an officer. But that is not what happens. A family shouldn’t be enriched for the crime of one of its members. It’s a matter of common sense to many of us across the nation.
I watch the game being played in real time and my mind goes to other—and most common—cases—the roughly two-hundred police officers killed each year while doing their job. What if the officer had been killed? We wouldn’t have a protest march proceeding from one street near the park all the way to the courthouse downtown. We would have a memorial service and a funeral attended by dozens of officers in full dress uniform to pay respects to one of theirs who fell doing his duty. There would be a short article in the newspaper and the local television stations would mention it as a human interest story in a thirty second sound clip.
Many in the community would grieve for the family left behind and most would pray for them. Then it would be forgotten by everyone except the police force involved in the search for the killer. Rarely is there such a public howl over the loss of a police officer—something I don’t understand. The timing of events in relatively small Nashville would merge two groups with more grievances than either one has singly.
On the internet, articles are posted calling for mass protests of the war but there is more. The organization of the protest is being done by an Antifa group, the same far left group of people who wanted to change the American government to a socialist government and who we just repulsed the hard way near El Paso. ANSWER to them stands for “Act Now to Stop War and End Racism.” La Raza, a radical leftist Hispanic interest group who have lobbied government officials for years to protect people who crossed the border without visas were also involved.
Most of us had referred to those people invading our southern border as illegal aliens and line jumpers, even while we think there very true asylum seekers who would come to port of entries rather than sneak across a river or fence or walk across property they don’t own. Since most have no respect for our laws and other people who were coming into the country the right way, we can’t just look away from the problem.
There was also a growing Antifa group of black-clad people who were not at El Paso but still advertise as being anti-Nazis but are in fact themselves very violent and authoritarian in their actions and demands. La Raza could turn out hundreds of people to protest. Antifa can easily show up in the hundreds to block traffic and riot under the darkness of night. Everyone involved would most likely not want war as they have seen what happened to their comrades. Every group involved in the organized protests wants to exert power over others.
It seems that only a relatively pitiful few believe racism can be found within every race—hatred, bigotry and worse, violence—actual racist hatred is found in all races despite faux society experts claiming that it’s impossible—another leftist lie. Later there would be Antifa formed with many people who had been part of ANSWER, La Raza, ELF, along with university students and other disaffected young people who were convinced their Marxist education was real and now were reaching for anarchy until a new form of government is installed more to their liking and taking. Since getting what they wanted in the blue states didn’t work well, and the violent clashes with the red state militias was a terrible waste, they still wanted the entire country.
Their platform conveniently uses the false claim of racism to bring attention to their cause. What they were and are actually doing is dividing the American public. They accuse our government of having waged a racist war for land throughout history and so it is illegitimate now. It seems to be more of a façade than anything of substance, but they’re always loud.
I believe their goal is to use every available resource to spread the wealth of the Nation. People who have accumulated wealth for their families must be an anathema to them, a particular set and kind of enemy—the object of old fashioned envy, of that there’s no doubt. And it seems that many in their movement cannot tolerate the idea of some having more than others—with exceptions given over to their high leaders. Issues of effort and ability do not ever enter their preachy propaganda as part of their analysis.
So it is that the next attempt by Antifa will be to again attract as much media attention as possible in and around a number of courthouses in larger cities. Infiltrating red states would not be a problem at all. The leaders have mobilized the masses and the sunny warm spring day holds promise for a large turnout to their targeted city.
It promises to produce an untended mess if they manage to get a turnout of the disaffected, disenfranchised—or those who think they are disaffected, disenfranchised. But it should not prove to be much more than an inconvenience for most people. It will cost the cities more in overtime pay for police officers and maintenance to clean up after they leave. But little else would be involved. We’ve seen them marching and speaking before. I pay them little attention since they are still nothing more than a vocal minority.
The new fashion seems to be anything goes. The leftists want everyone to use pronouns they invent for whatever their brand of silliness, perversion, and designation of personal sex habits as if what their sex habits are of any interest to us whatsoever. The new way of thinking is to feel proud of whatever you are, however you live. That’s a lie. We should be ashamed about some of our failings, our miscues, our sins as human beings—everyone has them. It seems we are taught to hold everyone up in high regard regardless of whether we think their lifestyle is bad. The onus has shifted to our heads to respect people who show no respect to us. That’s not something I will do. Oh, I won’t curse them nor will I hurt them or intentionally hurt their feelings—but I don’t have a high level of respect for anyone who demands I use speech they decide I am required to use. That would be silly.
When others show us no respect and vilify our beliefs and ideals in their speech and actions, it’s ludicrous to expect we show them some overarching kind of respect and honor for theirs. No, I don’t think so. It would be the same thing as giving them our home for nothing in return. That’s fundamentally unfair isn’t it? Yes it is unfair and won’t happen from my corner.
I’m watching. I read and hear voices from all sides, take their arguments and mix them up in a concept of freedom. I wonder. It seems there are too many laws—some silly, some good—more being pushed by people who obviously think the government can fix anything. One of the latest is a bill in California to outlaw spanking a child. There’s a difference between abuse and discipline and it seems that anyone willing to use their mind can see the difference. It failed.
That intrusion that began after El Paso has begun as a comparatively mild swarming. It was still an intrusion in the peace of communities that could mean an end to our Republic if it were to be left to slowly work its degradation to its final ends across the nation. The Marxists have now been underway with the softer strategy and it has an effect of disruption that cause people to want to give in to an extent that it will stop and so it slowly devours society everywhere it’s infecting and it will not stop.
Takers, people who believe in either forcibly or legally taking from some to spread to others are on the march. They’re spending less time on the net, in classrooms, in community meetings and rising out of their homes, hostels, basements, out of their academic posts, their student dorms, their ghettos, and out of their unions to come take all they think their entitled to receive. Many think they’ve been shortchanged in life, have banded to end the war and receive material and wealth from the Nation’s producers.
The people marching on the courthouses across America who have far more radical ideas about the role of government than most people. For peace, healthcare and income, it seems they wish to forcibly usher in government and become nothing but wards of bureaucracies. There was some trouble, a shot or two into the air and teargas being used sporadically is shown on the news, but nothing nearly as terrible as what happened in D.C. and El Paso. It appears likely there is some more trouble brewing in some cities. Some within the ranks of the protestors fashion themselves as anarchists and may be doing more than exercising their freedoms of speech and assembly. It’s difficult to think what it could lead to in our unknown and shaky future.
Many people have come to a place where no judgment is considered their prerogative. I believe that’s silly. We all should judge what is good and what is bad. But many people choose to avoid the responsibility of calling anything bad—unless it is something conservative. I watch them make fools of themselves and laugh.
In some locations it appears the danger of both the protestors and others are no laughing matter.
I’ve seen pictures of people burning our flag, defecating on the flag—as if it means nothing. In the past I’ve seen large banners against our military that some have made and carried that say “we support our troops when they shoot their officers.” It’s a hell of thing for other Americans to do, I think. I’ve heard different people suggest America is a sorry Nation—an evil country and place—and that we should abandon the constitution and foundations of our Republic. I’ve read people who suggest we are destroyers of earth, exploiters of labor, devils involved in empire building and the worse kind of human beings. I’ve heard some people say our government knew about September 11, 2001 before the tragedy. I’ve heard and read of people calling the troops of the United States the terrorists. I’ve read some opinions that have even called for banning religion and jailing Republicans. I would never suppose that believing in freedom and independence is a crime. But in some circles such notions are make-believe crimes.
I think about stopping entering debates on the internet since seems useless to share anything with closed minds. So many have demonstrated their minds and hearts are like rocks. There’s little reason to ever go there again. I know that I won’t change anyone’s mind. The leftists are entrenched and moving to do more than rant on pages and pages of electronic postings that have done little but attract like-minded people to agree with nonsense and disagree with sense when one of them or anyone posts truth and common sense. Still I listen and hope some will listen to me. The key to influence and rational living is education and so our efforts must be to actually improve the education of our youth. We must work in the administrations and in the classrooms across America to counter the bad teaching that led to El Paso and now the continuing disruptions and destruction by protestors who are easily led to riot.
Andy Huddleston's Blog 