Monthly Archives: October 2013

Funeral Bells

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Sound the requiem! Warn your neighbors! Raise the flag one last time! Our nation has been under attack from within, and now the rest of the world watches with malice and glee as we tremble and shake and sweat and stumble from the poisons which course through our Republic! There is nowhere to run now; the funeral bells have begun to toll across the land because the enemy has won, and the enemy is ourselves!

We cannot blame the executioner for our demise. We gave him the sharpened axe, we carved the block our neck rests on. We cannot blame the judge, for we allowed – and encouraged! – the laws that condemn us. We cannot blame the jury, either, for they are our own. We cannot blame the system, because we allowed jackals and knaves to create the perfect conditions of our doom. We can only blame ourselves. We let ourselves be lulled to sleep with lies and deceit. We took the stranger’s candy. We did not look both ways before crossing the busy street. We picked up the shadowy hitchhiker. We did not get a restraining order the first time we were beaten. We justified and reasoned and argued as the bus sailed over the cliff. We took the low road. We compromised our liberty, and now have lost it. Woe to our children and our children’s children, for our sins will be visited upon them for many generations! We let the wolf in the henhouse. We went swimming in shark infested waters. We stayed away from church when we most needed to go. We went left when we should have turned around, and am now at a dead end surrounded by with rapscallions, thugs and murderers. We have slept with a corpse and now seethe of maggots. We have made our bed, now we must lie in it.

Our economy is hemorrhaging from a thousand vampire bites, and the only physicians left are blind, deaf and dumb; do not be surprised to learn we are being given a transfusion of kool aid. Soon the only currency will be whatever the hyenas choose to feast on. You will watch as the military ransacks your homes and takes your guns, and then bandits shall overtake you in the dark and rob you of all your valuables and food, and there will be nowhere to go but filthy, makeshift camps where disease and starvation and hopelessness waits to drag you to a lime covered mass grave.

Our liberties are all but gone, shredded and used as fuel for the cold machine of State. Foreign troops will be welcome to march across our countryside, ferreting out the last patriots until nothing remains but smoldering sanctuaries and trampled flags. Some of us will scream our outrage, but this will mark us as the enemy to be silenced with government issued bullets. There will be nowhere for the brave to go but underground like troglodytes, where they will be hunted down and made examples of. The Constitution will become just another failed document, and our once glorious Republic will be compared by future history writers to ancient Greece and Rome. Our legacy will be one of promise and promises broken, a once healthy infant who developed cancer and died, a brave new world that withered away from fear and complicity.

Now you must choose to die alone or embrace rebirth, where neither moth nor rust corrupt. Drag your wretched and broken body to the alter and surrender to the cross, for Christ is the only hope that is left. I beg you not to die alone, but you certainly will unless you confess in your heart that Jesus is your Savior, and give your life to the One who paid the ransom for your soul. The hour of hope has passed. Lift your hopelessness up to the Lord. If you hesitate, if you delay, if you put off until tomorrow, it will certainly be too late. If you do not believe in the promise of salvation, you are lost forever, destined to watch all that you hold dear disintegrate under the boot of tyranny and time, and then destined to wear eternal remorse like a cloak of burrs. The only chance our failing nation has is if enough of us take up the armor of God right Now and fight for all that is true and holy, listening not to the sly whispers of snakes and wolves, but of the bold and eternal Word. Rise with the Elect, my friend, for the ways of men are gone. Darkness settles across the world. Embrace the Light. Please!

Revolution Against Tyranny Part One: Warriors of the First Degree Chapter Fourteen

Edwards 'transforms' into blockbuster movie set

Top sat across the table from me in the church’s dining hall three weeks ago. The only other person in the room was his darling and ever-serene wife of fifty-three years, Elsie. We all had our own Styrofoam cups – his and Elsie’s with steaming black coffee and I nursing a Mountain Dew. I had asked him to come to the Wednesday evening Bible study early so we could talk. I’ve known Top (Ronnie Hogue) only a couple years, as I’ve been attending this church that long, but we acted as if we’d known each other all our lives. Veterans tend to be like that. He was one of the lucky guys that got to play over in Vietnam back in the sixties (he’ll laugh at that when he reads it – if he gets time to log onto the internet), and then decided to stay in the Army 20 years. By the time he retired in the late eighties he was a First Sergeant, an E-8, so that’s why I call him Top. He’s put on a few pounds since then (as have I) but the extra weight just makes him look more imposing. I certainly would be honored to share a foxhole with Top. He’s in his 70s now, which would have made him a teenager when he and Elsie tied the knot, so I know she’s gone through a lot, too. Not only did they survive Nam, but a couple of tours in South Korea and Germany also. I think retired veteran’s wives should get some kind of combat pay, but that’s another article.

Our meeting, however, isn’t related to Top’s military career, although after twenty years of service, you could argue that everything afterwards is related because the discipline, the dedication, the honor, the commitment, the grit gets into the veteran’s very DNA and influences the rest of his or her life. I had asked Top to come early so we could talk about his second career as a big truck driver. There had been a fair amount of talk lately on the internet about truckers descending on the nation’s capital to protest everything from the government shutdown to Obamacare to the NSA eavesdropping on citizens or any combination of a couple dozen other fiascos going on in DC. There was a couple of Facebook sites – Truckers to Shutdown America and Truckers Ride for the Constitution – that were pushing for a three day shutdown of their own from October 11th to the 13th, and a protest in the capital with an army of trucks bogging down the area. I told him what I’d read and asked him what he thought.

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“It ain’t gonna happen,” he drawled in his casual Alabama accent. “Ain’t no way they’re let that many trucks get into DC, and they sure as heck ain’t gonna quit workin’ all over the country for three days.”

I was a little taken aback. I’d never heard Top speak with such confidence about something outside of the scripture. Elsie’s eyes sparkled and she gave a little smile as if telling me I’d better listen.

“First of all,” he continued, “there ain’t anywhere near the same number of truckers in unions as there was back in my day. Most drivers work in somebody else’s rig, and if they was to up and roll into DC with the company’s truck, they wouldn’t have a job when they got back. Same thing’d happen if they set their rigs down for three days. These fellas gotta work just to get food on their family’s table, and I don’t mean 40 hours a week. Your average long haul trucker is usually gone a week at a time, then they’d be lucky if they get 48 hours at home before they have to go out again. They ain’t making a whole lot of money, either. Never did.”

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He knew I had been to the 2 Million Bikers to DC, and spoke to that. “These bikers, they did a good thing, but tryin’ to compare truckers to them is crazy. Truckers’ gotta work!” I asked him what it would take for the truckers to make their unhappiness known to the government. Top sat back in his chair and stuck his hands in his overalls with his thumbs exposed. “All they’d have to do is stop haulin’ fuel and produce for a week. That would get the government’s attention! That would get everyone’s attention! Especially if folks can’t get their gas or perishables. That would do it.”

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“This business of going to DC and cloggin’ up traffic ain’t gonna do nothin’ but make a lot of people mad. Most folks today don’t realize how much their lives depends on the trucking industry. Chances are, if you’ve got something, it was hauled in a truck.” He let me stew on that a few seconds as he took a swig of his coffee. “There’s only been a few strikes that’s made any difference. In ’73 a bunch of independent truckers went on strike over fuel costs, low pay and weigh stations. In ’76 the Teamsters went on strike, but it only took three days before they got what they wanted. In ’79, though, they had a strike for nine days, and that about broke the back of commerce. Food was rottin’ in stores, folks were lined up around the block for gas, it was a mess. In ’97 the Teamsters had a strike of UPS drivers for about two weeks, and that had a big impact. Yep, if you want to make ’em squirm, hit ’em in their pockets.”

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Top shifted in his chair. “But it ain’t the government that’s gonna suffer. Business will, and the people will. Especially the drivers and their families. Nah, things’d have to be pretty bad to make drivers around the country strike.”

“Things are pretty bad,” I answered. “You don’t need me to tell you what’s going on, Top. We talk about it all the time.”

“Yeah, but truckers will need a good reason to strike. You let their taxes go up or the price of gas to shoot through the roof, or-”

“Or having to spend more money on their health insurance because of Obamacare,” I chided in.

“Yeah, that’d do it,too. It’s gotta be well organized, though, and it’s gotta make an impact, or it’ll be for nothin'”

We moved on to other subjects, but Top’s words struck me deep. If truckers across the country shut down, they would have to be willing to lose their jobs. It would take an entity with the funds to back them legally and insure they get their jobs back, and be willing to take care of their mortgages for as long as it took. The whole thing smacked of lawyers, and that’s a far cry from anything I had imagined. I went home that night and began digging into the world of another army of our nation’s warriors, the truckers.

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To Be Continued…

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Revolution Against Tyranny Part Four: Non Violent Success Strategies Chapter Two

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The First Amendment of the Constitution of the U.S. states, among other things, that “Congress shall make no law…or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the…right of the people peacefully to assemble, and to petition the government for a redress of grievances.” This not only is a political right, it is a basic human right, an inalienable right and one of the basic of all civil liberties.

We have read about successful assemblies in our nation’s Capital and elsewhere around the country since its formation. There have also been instances when assemblies started out lawfully but degenerated into bloodshed, due to the actions of those unwilling to keep it peaceful. Famous examples include the Camp Jackson Affair in St. Louis on May 10th, 1861, the Ford Hunger March in Dearborn, Michigan on March 7, 1932, the Kent State Massacre at Kent State University on May 4th, 1970 and although there were no deaths, we all remember the recent incident at the University of California, Davis on November 18, 2011 when Occupy Movement protesters were maced by police while having a sit-in. Considering that we welcome free speech in the U.S., I am sure someone will consider at least one of the above examples justified. It can be argued that a fine line exists between a peaceful assembly and an unlawful assembly, but the argument would be very short because a distinct difference exists between the two. The legal definition of an unlawful assembly is “A meeting of three or more individuals to commit a crime or carry out a lawful or unlawful purpose in a manner likely to imperil the peace and tranquility of the neighborhood.” Sadly, history is replete with incidents where the actions of a few turned a peaceful and lawful protest into an unlawful assembly. This breed of scum are called agitators. Members of a lawful assembly should always be on the lookout for the unruly among them. They range between overzealous protesters to mercenaries planted by the opposition.

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Just yesterday in Washington, DC, a group of citizens descended upon the National Mall to protest the placement by the Obama administration of barricades in front of such monuments as the Lincoln Memorial and the World War Two Memorial. The ‘barrycades’ (as they are lovingly called in reference to Obama’s childhood nickname of Barry) had been erected because of the government shutdown – at least that’s what the official government explanation was – although it is extremely ironic that the number of government employees used to keep the barricades up exceed the number of employees needed to keep the monuments litter-free. The protest had been organized and named the “Million Vet March,” and drew an assembly of thousands. If you really want to get down to brass tacks, the lawful assembly became unlawful as soon as the Vets began tearing down the barricades, but handcuffing paraplegic Vietnam Vets and wheelchaired World War Two Vets would have been a PR nightmare for the Administration. As it was, the protestors not only removed the barricades, they carried them to the front of the White House and deposited them in heaps there. You can’t say our Veterans aren’t thoughtful or clean up after themselves. They may have been technically unlawful, but they were certainly peaceful. We can learn from them.

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There did come a time when Park Police (dressed in riot gear, complete with plastic restraint straps and pepper spray) arrived and formed a line (that’s what they do very well, btw). A few protesters began shouting “Shame on You!” and calling them Brown Shirts and other such things, but the other protesters hushed them up quickly. This is one of the secrets in a successful strategy of non-violent protests. There must be no reason for law enforcement to escalate the situation. We know that happens sometimes anyway (as mentioned above) but in today’s atmosphere of technology when everything is recorded by multiple people, a protest movement is wise not to instigate aggression. This is where the Occupy Movement failed (although they failed for a number of other reasons as well) because elements within the Movement broke numerous laws such as larceny and assault, which are just reasons for the authorities to break the protest up for good. The good citizens in the National Mall yesterday exercised good judgment and restraint, and for that I commend them.

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The 2 Million Bikers to DC rally on 9/11/13 was the opening salvo of multiple waves of protesters coming to Washington DC. Some are more organized than others, but so far there has been no violence. I hate to say it, but sooner or later some jerk in the crowd is going to throw something at the police trying to start a riot. I hope the guy next to him has enough good sense to knock the jerk out and hand him over to the authorities. There is a revolution brewing in this country, dear reader. It is a revolution against the tyranny and corruption and greed and incompetence found in record numbers within our government. If we use our heads we can institute change, restore liberty and preserve our Constitution without loss of life. I hope a leader emerges (he or she might already be in our midst) who can unite us all against the forces threatening to destroy our nation. I hope we can remain well organized and civilized, because if we don’t, you know the government will have no qualms about putting the hammer down on us, and it has a BIG hammer.

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Protest! Raise your voice! Keep your ear to the ground for local assemblies or national rallies and participate, please! You can get out of the house without getting out of the house by sharing information with others on the internet or donating to a cause you believe in. But listen, if a 94 year old World War Two Vet can make a trip across the country to help remove barricades from our national treasures, you can surely help in some way, too. Just remember: it’s ok to be outraged, as long as you don’t turn it into a violent brouhaha. It’s ok to shout out your protest, as long as you don’t drag us all into a bloody donnybrook. It’s ok to fight the power, as long as you keep it civil. Now let’s go out and make change we really CAN believe in!

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Photos taken from The Blaze

Photo 01 by @Gabrielmalor

Photo01 by @Gabrielmalor

Photo03 by @MelissaRNMBA

Photo04 by @JudgeLucas

Photo05 by @WhitneyWaters14

Photo06 by @ZephyrK9 

How to Tell if You’re Talking to a Liberal

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The other day a friend of mine sent me an exchange he had with a couple of folks on the Politico Facebook page. One of his comments had been reported by someone and now he was unable to post on any group or organizational page for the foreseeable future. That happens sometimes. One time, in a heated exchange, I called someone a racist and was blocked from commenting for a month because as a Conservative I’m not qualified to call anyone that. The ironic thing about my friend’s dilemma is that the person he was exchanging words with used language ten times worse than he, and when he reported that person, was told by Facebook that the other person’s comments didn’t fit their guidelines for bullying or harassment. Now, I’ve heard many similar stories from fellow Conservatives, as well as innumerable instances where Facebook has eliminated Conservative and Tea Party group pages for “violating Facebook policies” while allowing other groups to flourish, such as “The Awkward Silence After a Fat Person Calls Themselves Fat” and “It’s Really Not That Spicy. You’re Just White” and “Looking at % Instead of Price When Buying Alcohol” (well, that’s not a bad page, not really). My now-blocked Conservative friend has been an active member of many political Facebook pages and isn’t afraid to go into the ring with a Liberal. In other words, I don’t worry about him at all. He’s intelligent, articulate, well informed and thick-skinned, all positive traits for a practicing Conservative. As I went over the exchange he had with the Liberal, I began to wonder if Conservatives new to social media actually know when they’re being confronted by a true blue Liberal, and not some average numbskull mouth breather, so I decided to use some of the comments he encountered (along with others I gleaned from the internet) to illustrate the general characteristics of a Liberal and to perhaps help them avoid being blindsided with censorship or worse. I hope Jeff Foxworthy doesn’t mind my using some of his vernacular.

You know you’re talking to a Liberal when –

1. He insults your character instead of staying on topic. “You supercilious, pompous, condescending ass!” “I point out the facts, you cretin-” “Your mother must have been raped by a retarded monkey!” “You’re bald because nothing grows on poison!” This technique is designed to derail a subject that the Liberal obviously does not want to talk about. It is an attempt to change the course of the conversation and anger his opponent into sinking to the same level.

2. He uses the words “Teabagger,” “Repugs” or “Right whingers”.  The uber-Liberal actually believes this is what they are called.

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3. He accuses Conservatives of being arsonists, terrorists, people with bombs strapped to their chest, people with a knife to the throat or gun to the head of Americans, warmongers, extortionists, blackmailers and of course insane. This is meant to frighten the bystanding reader and make the Conservative seem evil. These sort of Liberals consider this tactic as taking the high road. High road indeed.

4. He constantly talks about ‘saving one child’ but applauds shutting down the AMBER Alert System, or even worse, supports the murder of millions of fetuses by saying life begins whenever the parents say it begins. A Liberal also justifies barricading national monuments but refuses to secure the border. This sort of skewed logic can be deceptive at times, so be on your guard. If you are low income, a Liberal might hypnotize you into believing the only way to alleviate poverty is to tax the people who work and create jobs. It is simply an attempt to take blame off his party and onto the back of the Conservatives.

5. He uses logic and language such as the fellow my friend debated. Here, I’ll quote his entire diatribe and you decide if he is a Liberal: “Who said I was tolerant? I made no such claim. I fucking despise you rancid teabaggers for what you have done to this country, and for constantly trying to claim the moral high ground about every single issue. Did the Repugs refuse to accept the raises on principle? Did they deduct the raise and give the money to charity? Politicians of both parties are largely corrupt, but in the final analysis, the Dems are less objectionable because they have not collectively gone batsh!t crazy, and because the party has not been hijacked by a small hard core of extremists who are willing to plunge the country, and potentially the world, into economic disaster because they are trying to achieve by threats and blackmail what they lost two elections on – the Affordable Care Act. Teabagger Conservatives, living proof of wasted oxygen.” Notice how the speaker employed every tactic I’ve mentioned above. Now, I’m not adept like my friend at confronting this sort of attack, and if you’re not careful, this sort of Liberal will bully you into submission and then claim superiority. I think these sort of people believe that “Might Makes Right”. When my friend reported this fellow’s comments to Facebook, he was sent the following reply:

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Be careful when trying to engage a Liberal in a political debate. Not only is he trained in the art of smear tactics (be prepared to be called a ‘racist’ or ‘homophobe’ for no other reason than disagreeing with him), he has the full support of social media organizations, which means he can say pretty much whatever he wants, and can cause you to be banished.

There are many other telling signs of Liberalism, such as believing your child needs your permission to take a Tylenol at school, but not to have an abortion, or getting all his news from MSNBC, or oppose the death penalty while shouting for the execution of George Zimmerman. So if you have Conservative values and want to share your beliefs, beware of the professional Liberal. He’s out to demonize, demoralize and destroy you any way he can. Be sure you wear the armor of Truth and wield the sword of Liberty, because you’ll need them.

Revolution Against Tyranny Part Four: Non Violent Success Strategies, Chapter One

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My wife gave up voting in the General Election in 2000, and it’s all my fault. I had to go and tell her about the Electoral College, and after verifying the truth of what I told her (either as a consequence of our belonging to two different political ideologies, or my past preponderance for passionate and sometimes truth-stretching rhetoric) she came to the conclusion that her measly vote didn’t count. I tried to soften the reality of the current means of choosing our President by reminding her that a non vote was indeed a vote for the candidate she liked least, but she pointed to Article Two of the Constitution and the Fourteenth Amendment and reminded me right back that the Electoral College appointees decides who will be leader of the United States. She suggested (rather vehemently, I might add) that we eliminate the Electoral College altogether and choose our President and Vice President by popular vote.

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She effectively joined the ranks of a growing segment of society who feel the same way. In a poll taken by the Washington Post in 2007, 78% of Democrats, 60% of Republicans and 73% of Independents opposed the Electoral College. Even during the Constitutional Convention of 1787, a number of members (primarily James Madison) saw the flaw of taking the election out of the people’s hands and argued against it, but the issue of slavery at the time caused the majority of Convention members to fear the slave-holding states would revolt. You see, Suffrage (the abolishment of slavery) was much more popular in the well-populated North, and a direct election by the people would take away much of the South’s leverage in blocking a candidate favorable to such an ideology. Another objection to not having the Electoral College then was raised by the smaller states who feared that the larger states would be able to control who would be President. Legitimate arguments… in 1787. Since then, there have been a number of General Elections where the Electoral College went against the popular vote and chose the President (such as in 1824, 1876, 1888 and of course in 2000). In essence, the Electoral College renders the popular vote irrelevant. Even though it’s happened only four times, it can easily happen again.

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If a third-party candidate sweeps the hearts and minds of the people it will be all for naught, given the present system. For instance, I remember the furor Ross Perot caused as an Independent candidate in the 1992 election. His business-style approach and straight talk wooed many voters. Twice that year, leading up to the Election, he briefly held a majority of support in nationwide polls. In the end he received 19% of the popular vote, and many argue that the primary reasons he didn’t win the outright popular vote was because of poor campaign staffing and because at one point he temporarily withdrew his candidacy. Although Ron Paul did not win much of the popular vote in 2008 and 2012, he has won over a rapidly growing number of supporters with his Libertarian views. Some have even credited him with starting the grassroots Tea Party. The controversial Southerner George Wallace actually won 13% of the popular vote in 1968, but his racist platform became his downfall (along with the death of his wife Lurleen and an assassination attempt during his 1972 run for the Presidency). In 1896 William Jenning Bryant actually won 46% of the vote while running under the Populist Party, but was beaten by McKinley. Theodore Roosevelt’s Bull Moose Party in 1912 gave the two-party system a run for their money. There actually has been a third party candidate elected President: Abraham Lincoln. When he ran as a Republican, the Republican Party was not a major presence on the political scene. Unfortunately, the Republican Party did such a good job that it eliminated all but the Democratic Party, and ushered in the present two-party system. Current opinion amongst pundits, talking heads and political strategists is that a strong third-party candidate now days only serves to take votes away from one of the two prevailing parties.

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I personally think we should amend the Electoral College instead of eliminating it. The current two-party system is just one party away from a political monopoly, a one-party state susceptible to despotism, a dictatorship or pure Totalitarianism. In fact, doesn’t it seem that the Democrats and Republicans today are morphing into one big bureaucratic monster? It doesn’t look good for us, my fellow citizen. Here’s an idea: The Constitution gives the individual states power to choose their own electoral candidates. Why don’t we insist (via a Constitutional Amendment, of course) that the states delegate their candidates based entirely on the popular vote? Ten states (with a total of 136 electoral votes – over halfway to the 270 votes needed to enact it) have accepted and passed amendments supporting a national popular vote. Here are those brave states: Vermont, Maryland, DC, New Jersey, Rhode Island, Washington, California, Illinois, Massachusetts and Hawaii. There is actually a significant movement called the National Popular Vote which is pushing for passage of such an bill that would guarantee a majority of the Electoral College to the Presidential candidate receiving the popular vote. Many members of Congress support it, but given the current political retardation and incompetence, the bill has been pushed to a back burner.

I know a lot of folks want to just eliminate the Electoral College altogether, but realistically, there would be greater opposition to such a proposal than if we tweak it. The National Popular Vote bill will insure our voices be heard and our votes count. We all agree that our choices in the current two-party system have been between bad and worse, the devil or the deep blue sea, the fire or the frying pan. If your vote actually counted in the Presidential election, it may propel a strong leader from the Libertarian, Independent, Reform or Green Party to the White House. It may give the candidate that speaks for you and your fellow Americans a fighting chance. It would definitely be a valuable tool in our revolution against tyranny.

Write letters. Call. Bug your legislators. Knock on doors. Harangue your Google + circles and Facebook friends. Raise awareness among those around you. DO something, for goodness sake! A successful revolution depends on having enough people disillusioned by the plastic rhetoric coming out of the mouths of our current two-party zombies and actively working to dismantle them. A successful revolution demands and institutes change. I implore you to BE that change.

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Revolution Against Tyranny – An Introduction

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I have not yet read a full biography of Thomas Jefferson, but I intend to some day. For that matter, I intend to do a lot of things. Thank God for modern medicine, because now I have the opportunity to live long enough to read everything I always wanted. But even though I haven’t plumbed the depth of Jefferson’s life, I have studied enough history and done enough of my own digging to appreciate some of his wisdom and practicality. There are Jefferson scholars who eat people like me for breakfast, but I’m here to warn them that although I may look juicy and meaty, it’s really mostly gas and water. With that being said, I think I’m safe enough to quote Thomas Jefferson and ponder the things he said and how it relates to today. But I’m going to lay down my Jefferson quotes for now in order to meander awhile.

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If you ask certain people the current state of the Union, mainly the Liberal Left and the Left-leaning media (‘leaning’ is too kind a word to describe the tortuous contortions they perform on a daily basis), they will tell you the war on terror has been won, the economy is improving, our global image is favorable and the people of the United States are more hopeful and optimistic than ever before. And Nazis told the Jews they were going to be deloused as they herded them naked into gas chambers. Now, I know that statistics are always manipulated to favor whatever slice of propaganda is needed to feed to the masses, but if you toss all that rot aside and walk around your neighborhood, you’ll get enough of an education to help make up your mind as to the state of the Union. That is unless your neighborhood’s backyards form a country club’s front nine. Then you probably want to walk around a neighborhood that would normally make you nervous. Your neighbor is a family of five struggling to survive. Both Mom and Dad work, but the job market is so poor Dad can’t practice his mechanic skills so he works as a maintenance man in a fast food restaurant, and Mom’s teaching degree has to sit on the shelf because for every working teacher there are fifteen more just like her looking to get in, so she has to do temp work in factories. Their income is a whopping $22,000 a year, which means they struggle to keep food on the table and clothes on their kids’ backs. Your neighbor is a middle aged couple on disability who cannot work because they ground themselves down to nothing raising their own kids and now have to live with their broken bodies. They make a total of $13,00 a year, and must wear extra clothes in the winter and eat frugally just to survive. They are often hungry but they still make too much for food stamp assistance. Now the woman, who waits for Medicare eligibility, has to buy into the Affordable Care Act and has to spend $150 a month in premiums which means they go from hungry to one-meal-a-day starving. Your neighbor is an elderly widow who is in the worst shape of all financially, and whose struggles are so intense as to make angels weep. Her neighbors mow her yard and bring her leftovers and blankets, because that’s what neighbors are for, aren’t they?

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You’ve got neighbors, though, who have learned how to use the system to help them survive. The adults are able-bodied but have managed to get on disability, work under the table to support their drug habits, keep their children in Salvation Army clothes while driving an Escalade, receive food stamps because they lie on the forms and the food stamp system doesn’t care to verify information, and take whatever they can from whomever they can. Your neighbors are a household full of illegal aliens who works for $5 dollars an hour less than their American counterparts, but with fifteen adults sharing rent, they are making out like bandits. Their children don’t go to school because they are not only undocumented, they don’t speak English. They trash their rented home, the yard and their neighbor’s property with trash, and encourage their young to roam the streets at night looking for valuables they can steal. For every productive family in your neighborhood, you have another neighbor who draws entitlements, whether justly or unjustly.

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Overseeing the blight ravishing more and more of our neighborhoods are local governments working feverishly to keep from collapsing with ever-decreasing budgets, businesses losing their profit margins and laying workers off, charity organizations being overwhelmed by tsunami after tsunami of the poor and needy, despair and hopelessness sweeping through like hordes of locusts, schools having to stop all extracurricular programs, even shuttering their libraries, using less teachers with more students. County governments face the same problems as the cities, and the infrastructure begins to disintegrate because there just isn’t the funds to fix roads or maintain buildings. There is no help from the State government as well, not because of poverty, but because of unmitigated waste and corruption and greed and unnecessary laws and ineptitude in every corner. The Federal government is in worse shape than all the others combined because of politicking, adulterous relationships with special interest groups, a total lack of caring for their constituents, and an orchestrated, active movement using the full power of the federal government to rewrite the constitution so it can control all aspects of the citizens’ lives, to make the people dependent and docile and compliant. The big kahunas in their ivory towers actually want the people to despair, they want chaos and fear, because a desperate society is a captive society. It is happening, my friends. We are on a slippery slope, and the government owns all the Vaseline.

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Now let’s listen to what Thomas Jefferson had to say. He wrote: “I think myself that we have more machinery of government than is necessary, too many parasites living on the labor of the industrious.” This was spoken two hundred and forty years ago! Mr. Jefferson would have a conniption fit were he alive today. We are so infested with parasites that it is a wonder we are able to stand at all. He understood the dangers of an out-of-control federal government. He said “I am not a friend to a very energetic government. It is always oppressive.” Our present government is addicted to the crack cocaine of power and greed, and we suffer daily the oppression of its insatiable hunger.

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Read carefully Thomas Jefferson’s words: “God forbid we should ever be twenty years without such a rebellion. The people cannot be all, and always, well informed. The part which is wrong will be discontented, in proportion to the importance of the facts they misconceive. If they remain quiet under such misconceptions, it is lethargy, the forerunner of death to the public liberty…. And what country can preserve its liberties, if its rulers are not warned from time to time, that this people preserve the spirit of resistance? Let them take arms. The remedy is to set them right as to the facts, pardon and pacify them. What signify a few lives lost in a century or two? The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time, with the blood of patriots and tyrants. It is its natural manure.” My friends and good neighbors, we are LONG overdue in the watering of the tree of liberty! Not of patriots; the tears and blood and sweat of such noble and loving souls have been the sole source of nourishment, and their spirits call out to us, crying “Have we lived and died in vain that our descendants must also suffer the ravishes of tyranny?” I tell you that the time is NOW to nourish the tree of liberty with the blood of our oppressors! The public liberty is withering away because we have neglected the spirit of resistance for too long. If we have no true patriots who are willing to throw off the yoke of tyranny, we will be nothing more than chattel.

I challenge you, reader, to light a blaze under those around you, a flame of outrage and action. You must educate your neighbors, you must slap them awake from their slumber, you must energize them and call them to action and then challenge them to light the fire of resistance under their neighbors. Research the candidates for office and look for those who will preserve liberty by defending the Constitution, promoting fiscal responsibility through less taxes and healthy competition, decreasing the size of government and championing personal independence. If you cannot find such a person, BE that person! We must not allow ourselves to settle for anything less.

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Thomas Jefferson also said “Timid men prefer the calm of despotism to the tempestuous sea of liberty.” It is imperative that each of us create such a storm of liberty as to crush the fortress of tyranny into sand! Use the ballot now, or use the sword later. Make the government fear us, or it will be too late!

I have spoken about certain warriors willing to fight tyranny. I shall write of more. But YOU must become a warrior, or all is lost. Wake up, neighbor, then wake up your neighbors.

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Revolution Against Tyranny Part One: Warriors of the First Degree Chapter Thirteen

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Between the cold water, Icees, air conditioning and time spent talking with James from Louisiana I felt ready to tackle the eleven hour trip back to Florence, Alabama. I called my longsuffering wife to warn her I was officially on my way home, filled up the tank, put in another Led Zepplin CD and hit the highway. Traffic was fairly heavy but wasn’t unexpected, as it was the evening rush hour. I thought about phoning my sponsor Robert Bumpas, whose funds had allowed me to make this journey, but decided to wait until I made it home and then fill him in on everything. I did talk to my elder sister Marty D’Arcy living in Atlanta and compared notes. I was suppose to have uploaded pictures and film onto my Google + account as well as my website, but the tablet I used had failed me completely. Mark’s 4G phone had worked perfectly on the National Mall, allowing him to send media to the internet, but my device had to rely on the wi-fi signals in the air and was more miss than hit. Marty told me that the major news agencies did not report the event at all (surprise surprise) but the internet was abuzz with video and pictures and personal anecdotes. There was even a big fuss over the Department of Transportation’s website that was suppose to display the major Beltway exits for commuters. Instead of showing a mass of bikes circling the Beltway, someone in the agency had replaced the live images with static shots of the exits with no traffic whatsoever. There were even pictures of exits covered in snow – purportedly on the eleventh of September! This was the extent our government was willing to go to try and rewrite history. The realization was absurd, outrageous and chilling.

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Three hours into the trip I could barely keep my eyes open. The past 24 hours was finally catching up with me. No, it had caught up with me and was beating me over the head with a ton of sand. I forced myself to drive until I came across a rest area, then pulled off the highway and was asleep before I could properly close my eyes. Four hours later I awoke with a start to darkness and the sound of dozens of big trucks idling. I stepped out of my car and walked around the rest area until my circulation kicked in. I saw a couple of Harleys parked close to the bathrooms and felt a rush of camaraderie come over me. One of the bikes had a large American flag rolled up and lashed to its pole, looking like an imposing spear rising up from the back of the Harley. No doubt these guys had been to the Ride. I thought about waiting for them so we could talk but decided against it. I went to the vending machines instead. As I wrestled over a Mounds candy bar that didn’t want to open I heard the bikes start up with a familiar roar and watched the riders pull back onto the Interstate.

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I mulled over memories of the day and night before as I wandered back to my car. I had not seen this level of patriotism since watching the fleet come into Norfolk, Virginia from Operation Desert Storm in ’91. No, not even then, because that patriotism generated from the family, friends and grateful citizens. This display, this pride of nation and flag, I had never experienced before, not even in my days in the military. The men I had witnessed and encountered on this journey had come from everywhere to defend the sacred memory of those who had lost their lives twelve years earlier. There were representatives of all social classes, all races, all branches of the military, all occupations, all political leanings, all corners of our nation to be counted – not as one in a million, but as ONE. They may have brought with them feelings of disaffection with the Muslims, dissatisfaction with the government and disappointment with the state of affairs in the country and world, but to a man they came to preserve the sanctity of 9/11, to remind themselves, each other and the nation that we will never forget the horror, nor the singular determination to make those who had orchestrated such a heinous act pay for what they had done, and to renew our vow to do whatever it takes to keep that sort of thing from ever happening again. If another enemy, foreign or domestic, tries to bring us down, there won’t be 1.2 million bikers. There will be TWELVE million warriors on motorcycles, and that wouldn’t even be the tip of the spear. The United States – again, I say the UNITED States – consists of 314 million warriors, most of them armed to the teeth, each willing to water the tree of liberty with his or her blood. If push comes to shove, we will not suffer any threat to our freedoms, be it from outside forces or our own government. We are slow to anger and quick to forgive, but above all we are not afraid to defend our rights and the rights of our neighbors. We may fuss and fight among ourselves, but let someone come in and try to tell us what to do and we’ll bring Toby Keith’s song lyrics to life (Courtesy of the Red, White and Blue): “We’ll put a boot in your ass, it’s the American way.”

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I had seen a sample of that boot this day and was grateful I had been there to witness it. It took me another 18 hours to get home and about a week before I fully recovered from the road, but if needed, I would have turned right around and taken my tired old self wherever my country needed me. For the rest of my life, whenever I hear the sound of a motorcycle, I’ll think of those brave warriors of the first degree, and the sound will comfort me because it roars of freedom.

 

To be Continued (with more tales of Warriors of the First Degree)…

 

http://youtu.be/ruNrdmjcNTc

 

www.jaytharding.com

 

Revolution Against Tyranny Part One: Warriors of the First Degree Chapter Twelve

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I was still reeling from the incident on the escalator, trying to wrap my mind around something that couldn’t be wrapped, and still monstrously dehydrated, sucking down water like a camel after a two week walk through the desert. I supplemented the water with shots from a Coke Icee, thus creating the anti-boiler maker, and did not see the biker until he sat down across from me and asked “Hey, weren’t you there today?”

He looked like something the cat had licked to death and then drug in. He was big all over, so big that he probably had to avoid booths lest he burst something. His grey hair reminded me of kudzu in the final stage of consuming a dilapidated house. His moon-shaped face was ringed with wild hair; the last six inches of his beard had been braided and kept by rubber bands. His large brown eyes were sharp and clear, and even in his disheveled state, he seemed more sane and lucid than I. He introduced himself as James from Louisiana who had gotten separated from the rest of his tribe and hoped they’d look for him here as this was the last place they had eaten before the ride.

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We began talking about the 2 Million Biker Ride. He and his tribe (this is what he called them, but upon searching the patches on his leather jacket could find no reference to Native America. He certainly did not look as such) went to the Fort Washington Harley Davidson rally, and this is where he saw me wandering around with my tablet. I told him I had gone on to the National Mall around eight thirty, and he replied “Man, you should have been there when we were ready to go! I’ve never seen anything like it before, and I’ve been to Sturgis! There HAD to be a million bikes there, dude! I was about a quarter mile ahead of the Harley shop and everywhere I looked there was nothin but bikes! The guys that had stereos were blastin them, and all together it sounded like the gates of Hell were being blown down!”

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He said they were herded by motorcycle cops (“made me feel like a fuckin sheep”), and when they started it was stop and go for a long time. “There were so many of us we couldn’t just all roll out at once. I’d go about twenty feet and had to stop, go another twenty, thirty feet and have to stop again. Nobody was bitchin about it, either. Finally, after maybe fifteen minutes or so I was able to keep rollin, at least for awhile. I didn’t know it til later when I stopped at the Wall (the Vietnam Veteran’s Memorial) but the cops didn’t intend on takin us all through DC at once. Hell, they wanted us to just go around the loop like a buncha merry-go-round horses! Assholes. Just because we didn’t have a permit, they thought they could shut us down.”

I offered to get him a drink but he shook his head and hand, and that was when I noticed something I thought peculiar. He obviously wore gloves – the kind without fingers that strapped around the wrist with velcro and was meant to pad the palms – because with them off I could see how pale his knuckles and the bottom of the back of his hand was compared to the square of dark brown in the middle of his hand. Now that I had noticed it, I found it difficult to not look at his hands. He continued, “So here we were on the Beltway, and this is when I saw just how many there was of us. Dude, we stretched for miles and miles! The cops had two lanes of the highway open just for us, but even then, because of the sheer number of bikes, we had to creep and even stop from time to time. There were cops at the exits and all the turnarounds, you know, in the medium between going this way or that? I started seeing groups of bikers getting off on the exits, maybe twenty, thirty, fifty at a time. The cops didn’t stop ’em. How could they? That’s when I think I lost my tribe. I could see a few of them in the beginning, but with all the stop and go I lost track.

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Dude, as we went around the Beltway, more and more of us took off the exits. I thought about it a few times, because I thought it was bullshit what they were doing, but I didn’t know my way around here at all. If I’d taken one of them exits I’d probably still be lost! A whole bunch of us kept following the cops, but I could tell the herd was thinnin out some.

“I’d been ridin for about an hour and a half – it was just after noon – when this guy next to me on a Hog motioned for me to follow him. We were still in Maryland, I think. Yeah, ’cause we took an exit that said Silver Spring or something like that. There were no cops at that exit. When we stopped at a light the guy told me he knew how to get to the Wall from here and I figured ‘Cool, I’ve always wanted to see it’, even though I wasn’t in the war.” I asked him if he had served and he shook his head. “I wanted to, but when I was a dumb kid I jumped into a lake from a cliff and fucked up my spine. I was in a coma for awhile and couldn’t walk for a few months, but they operated on me to try and unblock the nerve and it worked.” He turned his head around, pulled his hair up and I could see a long, thick white scar on the back of his neck. My admiration of him did not falter.

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He went on. “We rode for awhile and then got on 16th Street, I think, and took it all the way to downtown DC. Man, I saw all kinds of big fancy embassies that reminded me of those fancy hotels! We finally made it to the Wall around one thirty or two, I’m not sure, and there were a few hundred bikes parked up and down the road. I saw all these cops on their little unicycle things and that was funny as hell seein them roaming around all the bikes and riders. There were a lot of dudes hangin around the Wall, touchin it and stuff. It was real quiet. I don’t know why but I started cryin, just like a little bitch! Man, I didn’t know anyone on the Wall, but it felt so heavy and sad there, like it was comin off the Wall itself. I couldn’t help myself, dude! I saw what looked like a cluster of soldiers facin the Wall, but they were surrounded by dudes, too, and when I got closer I saw it was a statue. That kinda freaked me out, cause it looked so REAL!

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“I hung round talkin to some of the other riders, hopin I’d find my tribe. Some dudes said cops had stopped them for no reason, sayin they were looking for contraband and shit. Other dudes said they didn’t bother goin to the Harley shop, they just rode straight in. Nobody had seen any Muslims, though, so I reckon we scared ’em off, buncha towelheads. More and more bikers kept showin up, and finally – I knew it was comin, it had to cause there were so many of us – the cops told us we had to leave because we were interferin with other people wanting to see the memorials, and we weren’t allowed to park where we were and a bunch of other bullshit. I figured it was time to go, so I rode my bike around downtown still lookin for my tribe. Eventually I started askin how to get back to the Harley shop, got directions, hung around there for awhile and then came here.”

We continued to talk about a wide range of things, and although I enjoyed James’ company, I felt the road home calling to me and we went our ways. I wonder if he felt the road calling him, too, and if he ever found his tribe.

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To be Continued…

 

First Photo Courtesy of Allin Gray

 

www.jaytharding.com