Category Archives: Politics/Current Events

Thought Police Clamping Down at Amazon (Review of Coyote by Allan Steele)

August 27, 2015 Machine Trooper Leave a comment

For the first time ever, Amazon refused to post a review from me.

I’ve been reviewing there for a few years but only occasionaly do it now.

Here’s what they said in their rejection email:

Your review could not be posted.

Thanks for submitting a customer review on Amazon. Your review could not be posted to the website in its current form. While we appreciate your time and comments, reviews must adhere to the following guidelines:
…

We encourage you to revise your review and submit it again. A few common issues to keep in mind:

Your review should focus on specific features of the product and your experience with it. Feedback on the seller or your shipment experience should be provided at www.amazon.com/feedback.
We do not allow profane or obscene content. This applies to adult products too.
Advertisements, promotional material or repeated posts that make the same point excessively are considered spam.
Please do not include URLs external to Amazon or personally identifiable content in your review.

Got that? So below is the review. See if you find anything profane/obscene, any advertisements or URLs:

Typical Leftist Bias Torpedoes Story Potential

Evidently some other reviewers (on Audible) noticed the subtle (and not-so subtle) left-wing bias of the author. One reviewer basically said that’s a silly accusation because the captain of the ship is named after Robert E. Lee…therefore it has pro-freedom underpinnings.

Right. About that…

Classic case of leftists projecting and twisting facts/redefining words. I’m sure Lenin and Trotsky convinced people they were pro-freedom, too, when necessary to gather support.

Leftists are fine with individual liberty…as long as you think, speak, act and believe as they do. When you exercise your freedom as protected in the Bill of Rights but disagree with them on a significant subject, their inner Gestapo shines right through. They have long had a field day projecting their own tyrannical mindset (and other “liberal” virtues) on right-wing characters to demonize their opposition.

Just when the novel takes the plot in a direction where you get relief from the political undertones, the gender-bending cultural Marxism of the author kicks in.

I see this way too often, too, where the author is either female or a gamma male (aspiring to beta male) who wounds suspension of disbelief by building characters to breathe life into their own fantasies and fetishes. Macho women are the level-headed, iron-willed saviors in survival situations. The author takes revenge on the playground bullies who haunt his psyche by writing the alleged alpha males as cowards and sissies deep down inside. The quiet, artistic (how the author no doubt sees himself) passive, uncompetitive beta males are the only men who are not reprehensible in one way or another.

While this book is far from the most blatant example, I just wanted to escape this programming entirely for the length of a novel.

Oh yeah, Dr. Osaka is really inconsistent, too. The colony’s physician, her decision to tag along on the canoe trip was both unrealistic and monumentally stupid. Yet she is sage-like wise when the plot calls for it. In one scene she submits to Carlos’ authority (when it is foolish to do so) but in surrounding scenes she steadfastly asserts her dominance over all the males.

Gil Reese was a touch skitzo too, as written.

Planet colonization has huge story potential. This book didn’t live up to it, IMO.

Free expression of non-conformist ideas is probably now considered “hate speech” at Amazon. It’s a shame, because there’s a lot to like about that company. Nevertheless, here we are.

I’d also like to add something that wasn’t in my already-lengthy review:

Steele also dedicates a little time denouncing (through the narrative) the “social collectivists” who are basically communists. Through the Captain Lee character he also accurately opines that there is little difference in the oppression from a fascist regime than from a communist regime. His delusion is headquartered in the midst of the conflation of fascists with true right-wingers.

It’s a very common delusion.

The perspective of this narrative is classic NeoCon. NeoCons are socialists who focus on lower taxes and more military spending than their “liberal” colleagues. The first NeoCons, during the Cold war, were originally Democrats and other Marxists who thought Stalin and Mao went just a tad too far. They still were inspired to seek Marx-esque Utopia…but without all the embarrassing human rights abuses in the USSR and Red China.

They were called “conservative” because compared to the rabid Marxists in the news media who get to label people, they were still to the right. This is part of the reason why the term “conservative” is so confused as to be useless in political debate.

Eventually these Communist Lite advocates took over the GOP establishment, and now their control is ironclad–which is why we never get a true choice in our rigged elections.

The way Steele projects oppressive behavior onto the right reminds me of the Hugos and the Puppies.

Scalzi and Co. rant about how unethical Hugo Award voting slates are after he himself has been the author and beneficiary of voting slates.
The SJWs accuse the puppies of oppressing women, then with no sense of irony, No-Awarded Toni Weisskoph (and Patrick Nielsen-Hayden threw a tantrum directed at the wife of John C. Wright).
They accuse the puppies of opposing diversity in science fiction, while No-Awarding the only nominated editor of Latino and Native American descent (Vox Day) as part of their decade-long hate campaign against him.
Interesting that SJWs scream “the science is settled” to end debate about their dubious global warming assertions while the anti-puppies (SJWs in science fiction/fantasy) repeatedly insist DNA testing must be unscientific if it proves Vox Day’s minority credentials. After all, no REAL Native American is allowed to disagree with them.
Anti-puppies play Twitter Tough Guy, issuing death threats against the puppies, then never fail to claim that it’s the other way around and THEY are receiving death threats FROM the puppies.
SJWs accuse puppies and sympathizers of trying to deny free speech to others…while the SJWs try to deny free speech to the puppies.

You get the idea. And authors like Steele reliably engage in this kind of projection when depicting characters/organizations they see as “right wing.”

Politics/Current Events

Don’t Let Donald’s Swag Trump Your Brain

August 25, 2015 Captain Gearhead Leave a comment

Let’s be honest: by addressing the invasion along our southern border, Donald Trump has elevated himself in our eyes well above the cowards in the GOP who refuse to even speak on the issue. For that one little display of guts, a whole lot of people are willing to ignore, overlook, or forget a whole lot of other facts about Donald.

Let’s go back in history to 1991/92:

Globalist insider George H.W. Bush had achieved the presidency on the coat tails of Reagan’s track record, but quickly set about proving he was a Republican In Name Only (RINO), infamously breaking the “read my lips: no new taxes” campaign promise and dismantling what was left of American industrial infrastructure. However, a crucial milestone in his betrayal of the USA (the sovereignty-infringing, economy-poisoning NAFTA bill) would never survive Congress without an overt Democrat ramming it through the Democrat-controlled legislative branch. The big unions would not believe the lie (that NAFTA wouldn’t hurt jobs) from a closet Democrat in Republican drag like George Herbert Walker Bush.

So Bush’s handlers determined he should only have one term, and it was time to launch their next political dynasty on the “other side.” The pathologically lying, America-hating, drug-dealing, amoral Bill Clinton would be the new figurehead to shift America’s demise into overdrive.

Only problem was, a jug-eared upstart named Ross Perot announced his intention to run for president. He gained constituents from both left and right. He shot to the top in the polls, leaving both the establishment puppet candidates in the dust.

In those days I paid more attention to the mainstream media than I do now, and I followed that race very closely. Late in the game, Ross Perot had a comfortable lead, with Bush in second and Clinton dead last–the exact opposite of what our domestic enemies wanted.

Then the whole political landscape began to smell overnight. With a margin that would let him coast to victory in November, Perot suddenly withdrew from the race, declaring he “couldn’t possibly win” as his reasoning.

The next morning the poll positions were reversed–exactly as the globalists wanted them to be. Clinton was now the frontrunner, his evil twin and sitting President in second, and Perot dead last.

Then, with the confidence of his base demolished, now that it was actually true that he “couldn’t possibly win,” Perot re-entered the race.

What did Perot’s campaign accomplish at this point? Only one thing beyond the novelty factor: he pulled enough votes away from Bush to let the Teflon Traitor coast to the White House with relative ease.

For anyone but a coincidence theorist, it’s obvious that the power brokers got to Perot somehow. He never amounted to much more than comedy relief from then on (except for helping Clinton get reelected in another four years). Either something happened to his mind during that time, or his subsequent Clark Kent/Don Diego de la Vega ploy was acted out so that few people would take him seriously. More importantly, few people would ask serious questions about the bizarre, inexplicable self-inflicted sabotage of his own campaign.

Back to Trump: don’t let tough talk on one or two issues seduce you. The dude is in bed with the Clintons and his positions on other matters don’t suggest he is interested in the national course change that would probably be too late to save us now, anyway.

And those who hold the power would never allow the necessary course change to be carried out, anyway.

What is his media circus accomplishing right now? Mostly, it’s serving as a distraction to protect the Teflon Traitor’s criminal wife Hillary from much public scrutiny.

There are only a few possibilities here:

Trump is genuine and would actually try to make the course correction (unlikely), in which case he’ll never be allowed to make it past the primary.
Trump is just another stooge who would be little different from Bush, Dole, McCain, Romney, etc.
Trump will eventually run third party in order to take votes away from the GOP nominee (Ross Perot-style) and give the election to Hillary.
There will be no more allegedly fair elections, and Hussein will declare emergency powers in the wake of any number of impending national emergencies (most likely). The only “elections” from here on out will be Soviet-style.

Politics/Current Events, TEOTWAWKI

There is No Political Solution

August 17, 2015 Captain Gearhead 2 Comments

Before I explain that title, let me expound on it:

There is no political solution to the trouble America is in.
There is no economic solution.
There certainly is no racial solution.
There is no cultural solution.
There is no moral solution.

If you don’t recognize (or don’t care about) the calamity faced by the United States of America right now, then this post is not for you. Good-bye.

THE SOLUTION IS NOT POLITICAL

For the last 102 years, the USA has incrementally abandoned the principles that made it so great and prosperous. It was so great and prosperous that it continued to thrive for a time even while being strangled by suicidal policies antithetical to our foundation.

112th Congress Convenes On Capitol Hill — How the ideological battle of wills manifests in Congress.

For the most part, this national suicide has been driven by the Democratic Party. Which means the solution must be the Republican Party, right?

Wrong. Even when the GOP wins elections…even when they control the Executive Branch and BOTH HOUSES OF CONGRESS…the course correction is never made. Nothing of import changes for the better.

We’re supposed to believe that some quibbling about the degree of taxation, or funding one undeclared war instead of another, represents a profound difference between the two parties. Let’s argue about whether we should be speeding over a cliff at 90 MPH or 60MPH, and censor anyone who believes we shouldn’t be speeding toward the cliff at all. Meanwhile our freedom continues to be usurped and our sovereignty stolen no matter who wins our dubious elections.

GOPjudas — LEFT: “Good one, Mr. President! Next, let’s get them fighting about Confederate flags while we pass the TPP.” RIGHT: “Have fun paying for our welfare while we steal your elections, pendejo!”

The GOP captured both the House and the Senate once again on the promise to defund Obamacare and secure the borders, just to name a couple. It’s painfully obvious they never intended to oppose their Democrat “opposition” in the first place.

They are both marching to the tune of the same drummer. That drummer is not We the People who foot the bill.

Some Americans are waking up, but are vastly outnumbered by the subversive forces invading (or the ones already here, and firmly entrenched).

THE SOLUTION IS NOT ECONOMIC

You can pontificate on the stock market, interest rates, oil prices or minimum wage until you’re blue in the face, and you haven’t even acknowledged the core of our problem.

There is more than enough information out there about the system of fiat currency that has been illegally foisted on us to rob from/destroy the middle class while amassing all the real wealth in the coffers of the international bankers. If you have any interest in the truth, you can educate yourself on it.

economic-collapse — “Relax–we’re professionals. When we destroy an economy, rest assured that we receive the compensation due professionals with our expensive credentials. You wouldn’t want to be financially decimated by some amateur.”

Disaster was deferred by tweaking some minutiae inside this criminal system for a while, but it can’t be prolonged forever.

We can’t avert disaster by working inside this system. The system can’t be fixed. The system was designed to fail, and economic devastation is now inevitable. “Quantitative easing” is just Newspeak for an insane notion of doing the same thing while expecting a different result. It prolongs disaster for one more election cycle while ensuring the disaster will be even more disastrous when it hits.

THERE CERTAINLY IS NO RACIAL SOLUTION

I can’t believe how often I’m hearing Internet Rednecks talking as if all our problems are caused by skin pigment or DNA.

Wake up, you ignorant tools. It was lily-white traitors who sold us out and who perpetuate our slide into oblivion. Certainly they use illegals and ignorant minorities (among others) to exacerbate the problems. They also count on your ignorance to misidentify the core problem, and you’re not disappointing them.

If racial uniformity was what is needed to preserve a civilization, then National Socialist Germany would still dominate Europe today, and be stronger than ever. And even if that were the case, it’s hardly the kind of place you would want to live (unless you’re a masochist whose fantasy is to live like a slave that only does, speaks and thinks what he is told).

THERE IS NO CULTURAL SOLUTION

Why does the majority of the population support (or at least tolerate) the very policies and “laws” that lead to their own subjugation, impoverishment, and eventual outright destruction?

As many of you know, it’s because of cultural conditioning. They have been intentionally dumbed-down, and programmed to think and behave according to patterns of self-destruction by everything they watch, listen to, and read (for those who still can read).

On the one hand, it’s encouraging to see phenomena like the Sad/Rabid Puppies, Truth Revolt, the CLFA and various other entities challenging the collectivist gatekeepers at some strongholds of pop culture. It’s encouraging to see Zero Hedge and InfoWars reporting on what the lapdog media works so hard to cover up.

On the other hand, it’s too little/too late. These battles should have been joined 30 years ago at minimum.

It took generations to drive us down to the moral, political, economic and cultural abyss that we find ourselves in–and there was virtually no resistance.

There would be tremendous resistance trying to regain what we’ve lost, and it would take generations to regain it.

We don’t have generations. We don’t even have one generation. Oblivion is staring us in the face right now. I’m not even sure we have a year.

After we have been reduced to a third world police state, all the cultural battles we could fight will be moot. Not that you’re allowed to speak freely in a police state, anyway.

THERE IS NO MORAL SOLUTION

Morality in America is a joke, now. It’s sad when even a murderous KGB scum like Vladymir Putin has the (relative) moral high ground to remark upon it. But it can’t be denied. The USA is now a moral cesspool and is getting worse faster than we can even track it.

Yet the old adage “you can’t legislate morality” is more true than ever, for a number of reasons. One reason is that those in a position to legislate it are themselves morally bankrupt.

THE CORE PROBLEM

Our political, economic and racial problems are just symptoms. Effective, meaningful action could have been taken on all these fronts as recently as 30 years ago to alter our course away from national suicide. But our moral depravity had corrupted our thinking, making accurate self-evaluation impossible.

But moral depravity is just a symptom, too.

We believed so many lies, and drowned ourselves in a moral cesspool, because we were programmed to do so through the culture.

But the culture is just a symptom, as well.

All these systems afflict us, feed on each other, spread and perpetuate because of the core problem. And because, as a nation, we reject the one true solution.

THE SOLUTION IS SPIRITUAL

Had we not turned against the Creator God who blessed us in the first place, we would have maintained the moral strength to reject lies, embrace truth, be good stewards of our culture, make sound political and economic decisions.

Moreover, we would have had the courage to reject the evil men who hijacked all of the above.

As has happened to other nations throughout history, and as His M.O. demonstrates on an individual level, the judgment of God Almighty doesn’t necessarily always manifest overtly like fire from heaven, or the plagues of Egypt. He often just removes His grace (His “hedge of protection” if you like) and allows the person or nation to become a victim of its own folly.

He allows us to wallow in our own immorality. Sometimes, in fact, He dispatches deceptive spirits to hoodwink us–since we love deception so much, anyway. In our subsequent moral meltdown we completely expose ourselves to treasonous forces within us, and ravenous enemies from without.

This is what we now face, America.

I’m not sure how much longer your coincidence theory, normalcy bias and other forms of self-delusion will even be possible. (Long enough for most of you to dismiss me as a crackpot, fearmonger and/or religious fanatic, of course.) I am convinced it won’t be much longer.

The USA may still be called by the same name. Might still have the same flag. Might retain some of the ostensible trappings to pacify useful idiots. But the constitutional republic we have taken for granted will be gone.

Those of you who survive the coming hope and change may find your options somewhat limited.

Your only hope is in the God of the universe, and in His anointed (that is, the Messiah who came clothed in human flesh, whose name was given as Yeshua, or Jesus, and who will one day return to collect what He paid for on the cross).

Anything else you could trust in will soon be removed.

And He warned us these days were coming, by-the-way.

Just like the USA, the Earth and everything on it will one day pass away. But God is eternal and so is your soul. The decision you make regarding Him is the most important you will ever make. It will determine your fate in the next world: eternal life; or the second death.

Choose now, and choose wisely.

Politics/Current Events

The “Cuckservative” Meme

July 30, 2015 Machine Trooper 6 Comments

As George Orwell illustrated in 1984, Marxists love to pervert language. In a police state, it makes it more difficult for the subjects to commit Thought Crime. In a transitional state (like the USA in 2015) it serves to frame debate to the advantage of the Marxists.

I try to avoid using Newspeak as much as possible. For many years I’ve avoided using the terms “liberal” and “conservative,” because the meanings have been so confused. There is nothing “liberal,” for instance, about the dirtbags who enjoy that title, what they are doing to our rights, or intend to do in the future. And “conservative” means something different to just about everyone. The only consensus feasible is that a conservative is somebody to the right of Chris Matthews.

Lately it’s been something of a bittersweet pleasure to witness some on the right and/or in the manosphere giving the Marxists (cultural and otherwise) a dose of their own medicine. (Bittersweet because it’s about 30-40 years too late to make a difference in our fate as a nation). And now “cuckservative” has been added to our lexicon. Is this a matter of using something out of the Cultural Marxist Playbook, or is there more Marxism at work here than just the play itself?

The term “cuck,” so far as I can tell, comes from the word “cuckold.” This means basically that a “cuckservative” is a naive, gullible chump. I would agree that pretty much everyone identified as a conservative, by themselves or others, fits this description politically. Certainly the neocons and RINOs who control the Republican establishment, the supplicating libertarians and every other enabler of the Democrats would fall in this category.

BUT…

For those with a Biblical worldview, we recognize that:

the devil is real,
his M.O. is to infiltrate and corrupt EVERYTHING, and
he makes his lies believable by mixing obvious truth in with them.

So, after calling out the Marxist enablers on many valid points, sometimes in hilarious fashion, the propagators of this meme also will call you “cuckservative” if you’re not racist, or if the criminal actions of people in government piss you off..

For instance, in Heartiste’s page “Shit Cuckservatives Say” (which is similar to our “Neocon/RINO Campaign Slogans” posted some time ago) has some nuggets like this in the mix:

(They) “Whine about how bad Hillary messed up in BenGhazi.”

Here’s a standout patch of stupidity. We are supposed to accept domestic enemies in government destroying evidence to perpetuate a(nother) coverup? Whoever came up with that idea is nothing but a tool. (“Useful idiots” is what Lenin called them.)

“Democrats are the real racists.”

Well, yes, they are–historically and right now, though their deceptive techniques to cast evil as good and good as evil are quite effective against the ovine.

“George Wallace was a Democrat.”

Also a fact. But I guess we should embrace revisionist history and refuse to bring up relevant facts when the topic of race is weaponized against us. Because Western Civilization.

“Abortion is racist because 50% of black babies are aborted!”

Obviously this idea has been phrased to make it sound fatuous, but the fact is that Planned Parenthood was founded by a Nazi who is on record as naming blacks as one of the demographics that should be destroyed via eugenics. And by sheer coincidence, most of their abortion clinics are in the inner cities where the black population is concentrated.

I am not an apologist for blacks. I’m not trying to make black friends and I reject “white guilt” on its face. Blacks in the USA have proven repeatedly with every election cycle that 90-95% of them are my unrepentant enemy, willing to steal my property and jeopardize my freedom as long as their entitlement checks keep growing and “one of their own” gets rewarded with position. (So have a whole lot of whites, for that matter.) They have proven with words and actions that they, in fact, are racists, and hate me because of my genetics.

However, I’m not going to conform to any ideology based on how people with my skin color are “supposed to” think. These tools behind the “cuckservative” meme do, which means they are exactly like the lemmings composing 90-95% of the black population in the USA. Way to show your “white supremacy,” bozo.

“I don’t have white interests, I have the Constitution.”

There-you go–the pigmentation you were born with is so much more important than having a government with the purpose of protecting individual rights. In other words, unless you think the way the left-wing elite want you to think, you must be a “cuckservative.”

I haven’t seen another comment so far that more clearly illustrates how the tools behind this meme are playing the part of controlled opposition for the social engineers of the left-wing elite, and exacerbating the “divide and conquer” policy that ensures no real challenge to their power will ever be mounted.

Here’s to you, manosphere: just keep peddling your kratom, game tips and penis pills while the world burns.

Here’s to you, white tribalists: When all our lives become a waking nightmare as a partial result of your ignorance, take comfort in the fact that your skin is more pale than some other victims.

Non-Fiction/Documentary, Politics/Current Events, TEOTWAWKI

Multi-Purpose Treason Part 2: Shovel-Ready Chaos

July 27, 2015 Captain Gearhead Leave a comment

Last time I called out the massive illegal immigration fomented by the hijackers of the US government, and how it accomplishes more than one agenda item toward bringing down the American republic.

The Border Invasion overlaps with another globalist strategy.

Contrary to what you’ll likely hear from teachers, professors, and the Idiot Box, it was not the bureaucrats, politicians, and community organizers who made the USA the most prosperous nation in history. It was our (once) free market, and the entrepreneurs who took advantage of its opportunities to fill consumer needs and make an honest buck in the process.

You’d never know it now, but Americans used to produce things (besides debt, paperwork and porn, that is). We made the most of the industrial revolution and became the envy and marvel of the world. Even when wracked by the Great Depression, wise thinkers in Japan were leery of going to war against the sleeping industrial giant across the Pacific because, unlike now, the infrastructure was still in place to fire up a war machine any foreign enemy would be hard pressed to stop.

Of course regulations and taxes that favor foreign interests at the expense of Americans has utterly devastated US industry. And the industrial infrastructure that remained between the world wars is long gone, now.

So is the work force. Starting in the New Deal and encroaching gradually over the decades until its explosion under the Hussein Administration, a huge chunk of the American workforce has been transformed into able-bodied parasites who contribute nothing of worth to our society.

The buildup of the Entitlement Class (of which invaders/illegal immigrants are just one portion) also accomplishes more than one strategic objective for the enemies of America and your freedom.

First, of course, it has followed the Cloward-Piven model to bankrupt our economy. As our industry was strangled, the middle class decimated and the workforce shrunken, the welfare state has ballooned well past the point it can be sustained.

(This causes a conundrum for the traitors in Washington, because they want to see America destroyed; but the politicians always want to delay the collapse for one more election cycle. This has locked them into a vicious cycle of “quantitative easing” that they couldn’t get out of now even if they wanted to, and will make our collapse even more devastating.)

Secondly, entitlements are a way for the traitors to extort money from those of us who still work, and use it to buy votes from those who discover they don’t have to. By robbing Peter to pay Paul, the politicians can pose as generous, compassionate benefactors…as if they were using their own money charitably instead of ours. Tax/Spend/Elect is a self-perpetuating dynamic ensuring the people who caused the problem will be able to keep making it worse. Parasites will knowingly vote for liars, crooks, and traitors as long as it guarantees their entitlement check.

Thirdly, it has destroyed the nuclear family in the inner cities, particularly among blacks, whose ensnarement on the poverty plantation is more effective than any whip-toting slave owner could have accomplished. They blame their poverty on Whitey or “the rich” and racial animosity abounds. Meanwhile, the remaining working-class whites resent them for their entitlements. It appears that a whole lot of whites are now blaming all the problems surrounding black culture on genetics alone. I’ve never heard white people display separatist attitudes in such numbers as they do now. Any hope of either side recognizing the actual cause of the problem is now lost, as they descend into stubborn tribalism.

Fourthly, this has created a powder keg. Entire generations have been programmed to not work for a living; and to…

rely on entitlements;
consider those handouts their god-given right;
hate anyone who objects to the entitlements;
hate America in general;
self-identify as victims who haven’t yet got their due.

When the economy collapses and the free handouts stop, these parasites won’t have a clue how to feed themselves. Their whole lives have taught them that the way to survive is to have somebody else (the IRS, so far) extort the earnings out of working people for their sustenance.

Starvation is a perfect catalyst to ignite the nationalism of the Victim Tribe, who will quickly find someone else to blame for the nightmare they brought on themselves.

The violent horror overtaking our major population centers is hard to conceive, and will probably go a long way toward the 90% population reduction of the Agenda 21 architects.

Examine the M.O. of the criminals in government when small-scale violence has broken out in events like the Baltimore or L.A. riots, when police were held back intentionally to give rabble-rousers “room to destroy.”

The Man won’t step in right away to restore order. People will be given plenty of time to rip each other apart. Whoever survives will beg for some great leader to ride in on a white horse and bring order out of chaos. Peace at any cost. People will volunteer to be interned in camps, so long as they’ll be fed and sheltered.

As the general in Star Wars told his staff on the Death Star, “The last vestiges of the old Republic have been swept away.”

The last vestiges of individual freedom will be swept away–with popular support, I’m sure.

Can you guess who the scapegoat(s) will be?

Non-Fiction/Documentary, Politics/Current Events, TEOTWAWKI

Multi-Purpose Treason Part 1: Invasion, USA

July 24, 2015 Captain Gearhead Leave a comment

Virtual Pulp was founded to sell books. That was the avenue we chose to pursue happiness and the American dream. But as that dream is fundamentally transformed into a nightmare, becoming successful novelists is a goal that pales in importance compared to the radical changes descending upon us.

Some may have noticed we’ve already been speaking out on controversial subjects more than we used to. We decided to use our freedom of speech while we still have it. Now, however we are kicking into overdrive. Book sales and diplomatic sugar-coating so as not to offend just don’t matter a whole lot in the face of the perfect storm our country, and the world, is facing.

Virtual Pulp is now the lantern hanging in the belfry of North Church. We might post something about entertainment or the culture war…but it’s no longer a priority. We will be warning anybody with the wisdom to listen about some of the trials coming your way. I have no interest in debates with coincidence theorists, concern trolls, or anyone trapped in their normalcy bias.

Multipurpose Treason is the S.O.P. for the interests that have hijacked our government. Most of the criminal policies foisted on us accomplish more than one objective of the globalist enemies of the USA.

Take illegal immigration, first:

The Establishment insists that American citizens have to be treated like criminals at airports and bus stations for our security against potential terrorists. Men, women, boys and girls must be fondled and groped by uniformed perverts because one of them might be carrying a bomb or box cutter. Meanwhile the border is intentionally left wide open so that not only drug lords, welfare parasites and violent Hispanic Supremacist armies can invade and infiltrate our cities, but Islamic terror cells, too. There’s no telling just how many and what kind of America-hating scum are flooding in by the train loads.

Well, the so-called Justice Department evidently knows, because they furnish some of them with weapons. The same kind of weapons they don’t want in the hands of law-abiding Americans, BTW.

Some of us have pointed to the rampant election fraud in 2012 and prior, and understand that the criminals in Washington are using this to build up their parasitic voter base into an ironclad majority which (along with dead voters, serial voters, rigged vote-counting, etc.) will ensure that their enemies can never, ever alter the national course away from the abyss of a socialist/fascist third-world police state. And we’re right.

But others point out that this invasion is kicking in the afterburner on the Cloward-Piven strategy to bankrupt the USA…and they are right, too. (This is just one of many methods converging to strike the death blow against our mortally wounded economy.)

But that’s not all. This invasion is setting up a “nation within a nation.” We are being forced to subsidize a seething alien population that will not assimilate (in fact, probably won’t even bother to learn our language), is hostile toward our form of government (the legitimate one, that is), covetous of our property and, in many cases, overtly dedicated to the reconquest of “Atzlan.”

That ties in directly to my next point, which I’ll get into next time.

Politics/Current Events, SHTF, Sneak Peek/Sample Chapters

Working Directly For the Shadow Government

July 18, 2015 Machine Trooper 2 Comments

Y MINUS TWO

UPPER EAST SIDE, MANHATTAN, NEW YORK

Jason Macmillan found the park bench in question. A moderately attractive 40-something woman sat on it, wrapped in a fur-lined parka, smoking a cigarette.

“Ms. Simmons?” he asked, when he was still a polite distance away.

She glanced up and flashed him a business-casual smile. “You must be Jason.”

He shook the thin hand she offered and was surprised at the electricity that passed between them. His eyes and mind told him she was nothing fantastic on the desirability scale (especially around the Washington-New York axis, which was crawling with hot, horny women) but his body didn’t agree.

He sat on the bench, with less than a yard of space between them.

“It’s not that cold yet, is it?” he asked, with a meaningful look at her expensive coat.

“It’s partly psychological,” she said, taking another puff of her cigarette. “I keep hearing what a bad winter we’re in for one of these years, so I’m bundling up in preparation. Plus I just spent a month in Hawaii, so my blood has thinned out.”

He nodded toward the huge building where the Council met. “They should be out by now, shouldn’t they?”

“Oh, their meeting’s been adjourned,” she said, with assurance. “But there’s the usual hob-nobbing to do afterward. And then Lawrence goes through his dog walking ritual. Are you familiar with that, yet?”

Macmillan shook his head.

“Well, you are new, after all,” she said. “His show champion dog has its own dedicated driver and vehicle. Can’t be getting shedded fur all over the limousine, now can we? Then his dog handler escorts the dog to Lawrence and hands it off. Lawrence walks with it for exactly half an hour, then hands it off back to the dog handler, who hands it off to the doggie driver, who takes it out of sight, out of mind for the rest of the day.”

She didn’t seem scornful or bitter. Rather, amused. But not quite mocking.

“Has he given you the speech about Border Collies?” she asked.

“Not yet,” he replied.

“Oh, then you’re due for at least one. He’s got dates and places, names of breeders and dogs. He’ll tell you all about how Collies were bred to help herd livestock. They’re born with the herding instinct and even his spoiled, urbanized pet unconsciously tries to herd him away from traffic and other perceived threats. Lawrence is fascinated with the whole concept of herding, in fact.”

“He hasn’t opened up to that extent with me, Ms. Simmons. He probably doesn’t know yet if I’ll work out.”

“Call me Jade,” she said, patting the bench surface right next to her. “Come here. I don’t bite.”

Macmillan scooted over until they were right next to each other.

“I hear you started out in the Louisiana Highway Patrol.”

He acknowledged the question with a slight hunching of the shoulders. “Yeah. But that was a long time ago.”

“Impressive that you’ve climbed so far.”

Her voice was sensuous–almost hypnotic. He was turned-on despite himself. Forget Viagra—this broad was an effective cure for erectile dysfunction all by herself.

“I think I like you, Jason. So I’m going to share a little privileged information up front—otherwise it might take you some time to figure out: Lawrence wants to meet with both of us at once in order to foster competition between us. So don’t be surprised if he seems to be pitting us against each other sooner or later. He believes we’ll both work faster and harder for him that way. Ironic, isn’t it? So Free Market of him.”

“So you’re my competition, then,” Macmillan said, trying to reciprocate her subdued, playful manner.

“But I don’t think it should be totally competitive,” Jade Simmons told him, with direct eye contact. “I prefer cooperative arrangements.” She glanced pointedly at his left hand. “So you’re married.”

“Is that a problem?” he asked, smoothly.

“That’s up to you,” she replied, patting his thigh this time.

He wasn’t sure how to respond. He was used to being the sexually aggressive one.

“I’ll save you some more time,” she continued, chuckling. “The only reason you’re in this is because your assets are expendable, whereas mine are valuable enough, Lawrence wants to save them for future operations if possible.”

This sounded like an insult, which rankled Macmillan. His agents were sharp and well-trained. So elite even the CIA wasn’t privy to their ops. How could her guys be less expendable than his? Maybe she meant only his civilian informants.

“I agree with him,” she said, “which means I want you to succeed. So the game is rigged in your favor: if you can get your dominoes lined up, you get the operation.”

Lawrence Bertrand appeared around the corner on the sidewalk, flanked by two imposing bodyguards, with his Collie leashed at his side. He was a tall, thickly built aristocrat with a nose like a vulture’s beak, probably in his mid-to-late 60s.

As Bertrand’s small entourage drew closer, someone else arrived at the park bench and stood beside it, waiting—obviously the dog handler.

Bertrand made it to the bench, handed the leash to the handler, exchanged a few words about the Collie’s diet, then dismissed him. The two bodyguards wandered far enough away from their boss to provide some privacy, but close enough that they could go into action in case Alex Jones popped up out of a trash can with a video camera or something.

Jade Simmons made as if to stand. Moving quicker, Macmillan shot to his feet and made room for Bertrand to sit on the bench. Bertrand took the offered space. Macmillan stood facing the seated Bertrand and only then noticed that Jade was still seated. She smirked. She had only feinted at rising. This was some sort of power play, to establish that Macmillan was lower on the totem pole than her.

Macmillan would like to get her alone, where he’d show her exactly where to stick the totem pole.

“I trust you’ve introduced yourselves,” Bertrand said.

“Yes sir,” Macmillan said.

Jade nodded. “How was the meeting?”

Bertrand frowned. “All this oil fracking on private and state land is a nuisance. But still, we’re at the point where, with or without more quantitative easing…” his words trailed off and he looked annoyed. “That’s hardly any of your concern, Jade.”

The reprimand didn’t seem to bother her that much, but it kept her mouth closed for a moment.

“How is the initiative coming along?” Bertrand asked her.

“I’ve got penetration across the board,” she replied. “Per your instructions I’ve concentrated on the DomTer cells, and we’ve got assets in or close to leadership in 38 states. We’re pushing for full permeation, of course, but in the mean time we’ve got fully trained, invested assets who are ready to go right now.”

Travis turned from her to address Macmillan “I’ve got Jade going at this from a different angle, but her priority is identical to yours. We need assets tuned and fueled up PDQ, waiting on the ‘go’.”

Pretty Damn Quick was a lofty goal when you had to accomplish all that was cut out for Macmillan and the people under him.

“Your predecessor not only failed,” Bertrand told Macmillan, scowling, “but he managed to lose valuable assets in the process. I think part of the problem was, he promoted operators to leadership who were too hands-on. Brice Mallin was a hell of an operator; but the wrong man to run the show. Chiefs plan; Indians execute. Show your fangs a little, but I need you and your command structure where you can observe and administer. That means delegate and supervise. Unfortunately, it also means recruiting, to replace the operators we lost.”

Brice Mallin had a big reputation as a bad dude. But not only did he lose three teams of shooters overseas, he wound up greased himself.

“Yes sir,” Macmillan said.

“The teams we spoke of,” Bertrand went on, “with the civilian assets prepped for high-profile…that is your priority until further notice.”

Civilian assets. So that was it, after all. That was why McMillan’s teams were considered more expendable than whoever Jade Simmons had working for her.

“I want to see significant progress very soon.” Bertrand now glanced at Jade to include her in what he was about to say. “With any kind of operation like this, discretion is of the utmost concern. We can’t expect the press to be able to continue damage control for us with the same success they’ve had in the past.” His scowl deepened. “There are too many rogue elements out there now.” He gestured toward the headquarters building. “We’re working on that problem, but frankly, we might not be able to accomplish much until after you’ve done your job. Anyway, we’ve got to police the situation tightly, and there are these rogue elements trying to start trouble…most are crackpots, but there’s this one B.I.A. agent that doesn’t know his place.”

“Are you saying we’ve been compromised?” Jade Simmons asked.

“They’re all poking their noses into our business,” Bertrand replied. “This one was snooping around one of our prior operations. He’s not a blogger or reporter or anything like that, but he’s kicked up some dust in his little backwater. The risk is, having some training in investigation, he could stumble onto current operations. Perhaps even our priority initiative.”

“So you need him out of your hair?” Macmillan asked.

Bertrand coughed and made a face. “It’s trickier, now. He’s running for sheriff in his home county.”

“Too high profile,” Jade said, nodding.

“Not if he starts making waves again,” Bertrand said. “For now he’s backed off. So let’s get what we can on him. He’s got family. And if he does become sheriff, he’s got that to lose. In any case, I’m putting him at the top of our database.”

“Yes sir,” Macmillan said.

“Understood,” Jade said.

Bertrand directed his focus back on Macmillan “You should have the mission parameters already.”

“Yes sir,” Macmillan said.

“I want you to be prepared to operate anywhere on that list of venues. And I want every item from the criteria addressed.”

That was a tall order, but not impossible. Macmillan welcomed the challenge.

“Above all,” Bertrand said, “we can’t have loose ends. The press can’t smooth over sloppy work as well as it could in the past. They can’t until we sort out this whole Internet boondoggle. Eric Varney will help us with background checks on recruits, as always. But beyond that, you need to do some careful screening of your own. And keep on top of it, even when candidates pass. Attitudes can change. Someone might decide to stop being a team player.”

Bertrand was paranoid, Macmillan decided. Nothing on Earth could turn a made man once he’d graduated up through all the layers of concentric circles to get here. C.I.A. and NSA employees didn’t even have the clearance needed to be a part of this organization, now operating within a subcompartment of the DHS. Most of Congress didn’t even know the organization existed.

“If there’s any security breach whatsoever,” Bertrand said, “well, let’s just say you don’t want to be the person responsible.”

###

###

The link to False Flag is also on the upper right sidebar. You can watch the accompanying Youtube video here.

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Politics/Current Events, Sneak Peek/Sample Chapters, TEOTWAWKI

Federal Standoff was Recon By Fire

July 14, 2015 Machine Trooper Leave a comment

Bang, bang, bang! “Freeze, or I’ll shoot!”

A government sniper killed Vickie Weaver with her baby in her arms. This was during an attempt to murder the entire Weaver family because Randy Weaver refused to be an informant. Whatever Randy’s personal beliefs, this should have inspired a march on Washington with torches and pitchforks.

Not long after, an army of ATF goons, backed by FBI shooters, tanks and choppers, laid siege to a home and church with no probable cause for even a search warrant. The somewhat kooky religious people near Waco, Texas were burned to death for the crime of exercising their rights protected by the First and Second Amendment. The big crime committed there–according to the government/media complex–is that a few of the victims had the audacity to shoot back when masked men in combat gear began destroying their property and killing their friends and family.

The EPA, BLM, IRS and other out-of-control Gestapo agencies have been bulldozing through the inalienable rights of American citizens for a few decades, using some ridiculous excuses to do so. In recent memory, the BLM and other jackbooted federal thugs attempted to intimidate the last surviving ranching family in the Moapa Valley into giving up the grazing rights they’ve had for a century and a half. The feds rustled Bundy’s cattle, destroyed his irrigation during calving season, and prepared to attack the men, women and children who owned the cattle.

But Bundy didn’t back down, and Americans from all over the region showed up to face off with the Nuremburg Rangers. You could call it a line in the sand.

Amazingly, the feds backed down. There are a number of possible reasons. One is that if shots were fired in anger, it might very well have turned our Cold Civil War hot, and The Man wasn’t perfectly pre-positioned for it at that moment of time.

But the All-Seeing Eye was tracking every single individual who showed up to stand with the besieged rancher. You can bet every single one of them is now high up on the threat list for “domestic terrorism” at the Utah Data Center and elsewhere. Such individuals will be the very first targets in extraction operations like the ones being practiced as a part of Jade Helm ’15.

So, in 4GW terms, you could consider the Bundy Ranch standoff as a probe. Specifically, a recon-by-fire.

D MINUS 65

NSA DATA CENTER

CAMP WILLIAMS, UTAH

Justin yawned, checked the time, and turned back to his monitor. He’d been at it for 12 hours so far today. He’d put in a couple more before calling it quits for the night.

The room he sat in was crowded with computers, separated by small cubicles. There were ten tired, uncomfortable people in there, all trying to maintain enthusiasm for this project despite the long hours.

Justin closed the file he had just completed and went back to Surveillance Photo 18F-5 from the Garber Ranch. Several more zones of the photo had been grayed out since he last looked at it. He moved his cursor over an active zone and clicked on it. The zone grew to fill his screen, and he zoomed in on the little Ford Ranger parked on the side of the road. He kept zooming closer until he could make out the license plate, then split his screen to open the Motor Vehicle database.

“We got any more coffee?” asked Barnes, from the adjacent cubicle.

“Had about half a pot left an hour ago,” Justin replied, checking the blackened bottom of his styrofoam cup to ensure his last dose hadn’t magically reappeared.

“Which means it’s empty again, and I’ll be the one who has to fill it,” Barnes complained. “You’d think they could get us one of those fancy machines where you just slide a packet in, push a button and it gives you espresso, coffee, cappuccino or whatever.”

“They spent all the money on these work stations,” Justin said.

Frawley, the green-eyed blonde in the cubicle to his right, rolled back in her chair and asked, “Did you hear the latest about that defensive back at Miami?”

Justin shook his head. “I don’t follow football that much anymore.”

Frawley looked almost hurt. “But…”

Tench, the short brassy-haired black woman in the cubicle to his left, rolled back and said, “I thought you were a wide receiver for UCLA.”

“Tight end,” he corrected. “But I’m done with football.”

Justin’s love for the game had been cooling for a while even before his back injury during senior year. It had cooled even more in recent years.

“You shoulda’ stuck with that,” Tench said. “You coulda’ been makin’ big money.”

“You’re still in terrific shape, too,” Frawley said. “Most guys put on a lot of weight after they stop playing.”

“That’s Ex-Jock Syndrome,” Justin said. “Guys who try to bulk up or trim down for their position ruin their metabolism. I never did that.”

“So I guess you wouldn’t be interested in joining a fantasy league,” Frawley said.

“No. But thanks anyway,” Justin said. His co-workers rolled their chairs back into their cubicles.

He ran the license plates through the database, pulling up the name and address of the person who registered the Ford Ranger. The owner had driven across two states to join the DomTers at Chapanee. Justin initiated a new file and began filling in the details.

First he checked for a criminal record. There was none. Some speeding tickets when the DomTer was a teenager, and an accident report filed 15 years ago made up the only entries on the rap sheet.

He looked up the DomTer’s cellphone number and flagged it for monitoring and tracking.

Next he checked for prior military service. The DomTer, Gary Fram, served in the Army, in the combat arms. That moved him up the danger scale quite a few notches.

Justin looked over his medical records and filled in the requests for peripheral checks of his wife and children. He shifted to Fram’s financial history and status, and confirmed his political affiliation by voter registration. The man’s voting history started out typically sporadic, then he became a hell-or-high-water voter for several years. But he quit voting altogether after 2012. This would flag his profile as an extreme risk.

For variety’s sake, Justin investigated his public library habits next. (Normally he put this off for later in the process, but switching around the routine helped relieve some of the monotony.) Several books checked out on the American Revolution, the Constitution, the Federal Reserve, and various survival topics all fit the profile and confirmed the risk level.

He ran the man’s identifiers through the firearm sales database. Though this database was far from complete, it still showed a rifle and shotgun purchase, along with several ammunition purchases. The caliber of the ammo purchased indicated at least two additional weapons owned.

Only then did Justin begin poring through Fram’s email, search engine and social networking history. This was the most tedious, time consuming portion of any profile. It generated anywhere from dozens to hundreds of peripheral requests for profiles of potential accomplices, but the intelligence rewards were too juicy to pass up.

Fram hadn’t said anything that could yet be construed to suggest criminal intent, but his wife posted pictures on Facebook of him posing with a couple different weapons which did not show up on the firearm sales search.

Justin still had a long way to go on the social networking history when time came to go home. He would have to continue that tomorrow. He estimated that it would take another day and a half before he could wrap up with an analysis of the DomTer’s home, based on satellite and street-level images from Google. Only after all that was complete could the DomTer’s residence be more thoroughly investigated via thermal imaging, ground-penetrating radar and other methods available by satellite or U.A.V…assuming he or his wife hadn’t bought into DropCam or some other service that installed cameras inside their home, which would make everything easier.

Justin began shutting down and gathering his stuff.

“You calling it a day?” Barnes asked.

“Yeah,” Justin said, logging out of succeeding security layers. “My eyes are burning. Guess I’ll be back in about 10, 12 hours.”

“You know what we’re doing here, right?” Barnes asked, rising to his feet and hurrying around the cubicle row to where Justin stood.

Justin shrugged, not sure what his co-worker was driving at. But no doubt Barnes would do his best to enlighten him, whether the enlightenment was welcome or not.

“It’s like ‘reconnaissance by fire’,” Barnes said, grinning at the opportunity to share his theory. He was retired Air Force, and looked for the military angle in everything. “You know those old fashioned wars…infantry attacking defensive positions and all that. Well, what you do is send a heavy patrol out at night and make contact, but just to harass—not to try overrunning the position or anything. The defenders open fire, and you take note of how their defenses are laid out–where their machineguns are; mortars, artillery; whatever. And which parts of the perimeter are only defended by riflemen. Then when you’re ready to attack, you knock out their heavy weapons first, then hit them where they’re weakest. Of course today you don’t have to do that because we got satellite intelligence and so forth, but you get the idea: we’re probing the DomTers to find their strong and weak links.”

“You think we intended to back down from the standoff all along?” Justin asked, incredulous.

“Well, the whole operation may have been part test balloon,” Barnes said. “If that old cowboy prick had been reasonable, we’d have just moved on and taken care of business. But these DomTers are feeling their oats. They think they won’t get a spanking–or that it won’t hurt that much. So we’ll let them go on thinking that, while we just pin down where all their assets are.”

“I wonder why we don’t spend this level of effort on the folks swarming across the southern border,” Justin wondered aloud. “I mean, Domestic Terrorists aren’t the only threat we have to worry about.”

Barnes frowned, shrugged, and headed back to the coffee maker.

Justin left the “data mine” and exited through a series of security checkpoints until he finally made it outside the building. On the way to his car, he considered his short conversation with Barnes. He hoped he hadn’t come off as critical, or the Department might decide he had tendencies that were sympathetic to the enemy.

The enemy.

It should be bizarre thinking of American citizens that way, but Justin was getting used to it. It kind of bothered him at first when reading department memorandums gave him the impression that a civil war was expected by his bosses, and their bosses. Mainstream culture was clueless that anyone even considered it possible. Yet in the minds of many intelligence professionals, it was a done deal.

Justin remembered enough world history to know that evolution of a state and its culture was inevitable. The great empires all lasted approximately 200 years before corruption ate them away from the inside, or weakened them enough to be toppled by external forces. That meant the United States of America was on borrowed time anyway.

At least his job was secure. In the emerging global order his kind of work would always be in demand.

###

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The link to False Flag is also on the upper right sidebar. You can watch the accompanying Youtube video here.

Crime, Politics/Current Events, SHTF, Sneak Peek/Sample Chapters

The Oath of Office: How Seriously Is it Taken?

June 28, 2015 Machine Trooper Leave a comment

…By any public servant, down to the local government level?

D MINUS 87

POTTOWATOMIE COUNTY, OKLAHOMA

After the county coroner and other forensics experts had been on site for a while, Tommy made sure they had what they needed from him, and returned to the office. He watched some of the questioning of Ms. Greeley and the boy not in the hospital, took care of some paperwork, then called it a day.

He pulled into his front yard on the rez after midnight, and was greeted first by his dogs. His wife, Linda, met him at the front door and they spent a few moments showing affection before she led him to the kitchen, where his supper was keeping warm in the oven. The kitchen was old, like the rest of the house, but Linda kept it clean and cozy, in the way only feminine women could.

Tommy and Linda still usually spoke to each other in Shawandasse, to keep in practice.”Where’s Carl?” Tommy asked, sitting, as she set the plate in front of him.

“Out in the garage, tinkering with that dirt bike again,” Linda replied, and sat across from him at the table.

Carl was their youngest, and still lived with them. Gunther and Takoda had been on their own for a while, already.

“How was your day?” Linda asked.

Tommy frowned, not really knowing how to answer that question. What could you say after seeing what he’d seen over in Cynthia Greeley’s basement? He felt bad, because his job put him in an unpleasant mood more often than not, and Linda was the one who had to deal with it. It wasn’t her fault that he had to see that kind of stuff…

Well, in a way, it was.

Y MINUS TWO

ABSENTEE SHAWNEE TRUST LAND, OKLAHOMA

When Tommy returned from Sumatra, he at first considered going into hiding. Maybe assuming a new identity. That’s how scared he was.

He and his brother Vince had been framed for the murder of an Indonesian cop, and had to run from the local police just to escape with their lives. But after all was said and done, Vince hadn’t escaped with his life.

The attempts on their lives over there made it clear they had some powerful enemies who could pull strings just about anywhere. The only reason Tommy could think of was an investigation both he and his brother had been working, which grew to include a domestic terrorist incident, and involved complicity in the highest levels of the Justice Department, implicating involvement even higher up.

So when he returned to the States, Tommy figured his enemies would come at him from some other angle. Certainly his job as a special agent of the Bureau of Indian Affairs would be sabotaged somehow, just for starters. Then what? That murder rap overseas would be the most obvious line of attack.

But against his understandably paranoid judgment, he showed himself publicly, answered (or avoided, depending on who asked) a million questions, and attended Vince’s funeral service.

It was at this very kitchen table, when Tommy was deliberating with himself about what to do, that Linda made her suggestion.

“You know Sheriff Flores is up for reelection, Tommy. He’s not very popular.”

Flores was crooked and most everyone in the county knew it. “So what?” Tommy replied.

“So, you know it doesn’t matter who the Republicans run—they won’t have a chance in this county. Flores is practically running unopposed.”

“I still don’t see your point,” Tommy said.

“You should run for sheriff, Dad,” Carl said, catching on quickly and loving the idea. “As an independent.”

“County sheriffs answer to the people,” Linda reasoned. “You won’t be under the thumb of some federal agency, or the suckups in the Tribal Police, if you go back there. As a sheriff, you’d be able to defend yourself a lot better than as a subordinate of some career slave.”

“I’m not a politician,” Tommy said. “Sheriffs are all political these days. I couldn’t win a popularity contest against Jack the Ripper, and wouldn’t want to try.”

“But you could,” Linda said. “You’re very popular right now. Word’s been getting around about how you rescued Jenny and Susan Pyrch, and the other girls.”

Tommy’s niece Jenny, Susan Pyrch from here on the rez, and some of their college friends had been kidnapped while overseas on vacation. Tommy had led an effort to get them back–and succeeded with the exception of one girl.

“What kind of word is getting around?” Tommy asked, worried. Other men had gone with him, and he owed them more than he could ever pay. If their names got out, they could suffer for their association with him.

“You’re a hero, Dad,” Carl said. “You’re all people are talking about at school.”

“It’s the same with my friends,” Linda said. “I’m married to a living legend.” She gave him a playful nose-honk with one hand. “Just don’t let it go to your head, okay?”

“I don’t know,” Tommy said. “I’m not good at giving speeches or debating.”

“Just be yourself,” Linda said, now rubbing his cheek. “Your capable of charm, or you never would have got a second date with me.”

He had to grin at that one.

“And I think you’re popular enough right now, you wouldn’t even have to say much,” she added. “At least think about it. Unless you have a better idea.”

Tommy didn’t have a better idea, so he thought about it.

He ran for sheriff.

There were no debates. He gave only one speech, a week before the election, and it looked like half of the county, plus everyone on Shawnee Trust Land, came out to hear it.

“If you want a bigger jail, that’s fine,” he said. “I’m not gonna say you need one. And I’m not gonna seek federal or private money. If I’m sheriff, we’ll handle things ourselves with the resources we have. I don’t want Washington pulling strings here, so I won’t invite that by begging for federal cheese. The way I see it, the office of sheriff exists to protect your rights.”

This got a cheer, requiring him to pause before continuing.

“Politicians and bureaucrats get your tax dollars to serve you; not so you have to serve them.”

Another cheer. Given the voting record of the electorate on the rez, he had expected heckling when he got to this part—or blank stares at best.

“Because most politicians see it the other way around, and usually get away with it, doesn’t make it right. I’m glad you all are so enthusiastic about your rights. But your rights end where somebody else’s begins. When rights get violated, that’s when the police should get involved.”

He spotted his family in the crowd, all toward the front. Takoda and Carl’s hair was just beginning to grow back from their Mohawks. They and Gunther were typically blank-faced, but now with chests pushed out perhaps more than normal. Jenny was smiling broadly and Linda looked so excited she might faint.

“If I was sheriff, criminals would be put in jail,” he continued, inspiring applause. “My deputies wouldn’t be spending their time harassing people who aren’t criminals. They wouldn’t be engaging in random roadside checkpoints, or issuing tickets for tinted windows or seatbelt violations. If you respect the rights of your neighbor, then the law should be on your side. And it would be, if I was sheriff.”

Tommy wasn’t ready for the ovation he got for that short, unpolished speech. Linda threw herself at him and said, “Take me home, now, and ravage me!”

He laughed and shook his head.

“I’m serious,” she said. “Have Carl spend the night with Gunther. I want you.”

“I just pissed off every ‘law and order’ type in the county,” he said. “People don’t want what’s right. They want…”

He was interrupted by some well-wishers who complimented him on his speech.

When he was done with this bout of glad-handing, Linda wrapped herself around his arm and said, “There aren’t many ‘law and order’ types after Flores, Tommy. He converted them.”

Tommy tried to smile, not so sure.

“Tommy, you could run for president after a speech like that, and even your sister-in-law would vote for you!”

Reporters crowded in to ask him questions, but Tommy ignored them. He ran the gauntlet of hand-shakers and eventually made it to his Blazer.

The election came and Tommy won, surprising him more than anyone.

His first order of business was to scrutinize his deputies. He fired all but seven of them, then sat the survivors down in the briefing room and gave them a longer speech than the one he delivered on the campaign stump.

“You men have heard the expression ‘there’s a new sheriff in town’?” Tommy asked, then just watched the deputies reactions as the thought sunk in.

“The reason you are the only ones here is because I let everyone else go. The first thing I want you to understand is that for every one of you still here, there’s ten unemployed wannabes waiting in line, who paid to put themselves through the police academy. It will be much easier for me to teach them good habits than to correct any bad ones you might have. If you’ve been learning the wrong way to conduct this job before I came along, then you’d better un-learn it before I find out.”

He opened the cardboard box on the desk, pulled out a handful of small booklets, and tossed one to each deputy.

“Each one of you took an oath to uphold the U.S. Constitution, and the laws of Oklahoma,” Tommy said. “The Academy does an okay job teaching you the most common Oklahoma statutes you can use to trick, bully, and charge citizens. It does a disgraceful job teaching you about the Bill of Rights. These little books are copies of the Constitution, with the Bill of Rights and the later amendments, plus the Declaration of Independence and some other stuff. When you report to work tomorrow morning I expect you to have read the Bill of Rights. If you have any questions about it, ask me. I’m giving you one week to read the entire Constitution. You swore to uphold it, so as long as I’m sheriff, you’re gonna know what’s in it.”

None of the deputies had worked with him before. Nobody grumbled—possibly only because they weren’t sure how crazy a boss he would turn out to be.

“Until then,” Tommy said, “here’s some items for you to remember: if you ask for or accept any kind of bribe, you’ll be fired. If you steal something, I’ll put you in this jail myself. There will be no more checkpoints. No more speed traps. No more arresting people, then figuring out what to charge them with after they’re brought in. No unwarranted searches; no warrants without probable cause—and probable cause does not include skin color, camouflage clothing or gun racks.”

Tommy studied faces again. Some of the deputies blushed. He took note of them.

“You will not take one of the unmarked cars from the motor pool without authorization directly from me. We are not going to use unmarked cars for speeding tickets. If our objective is truly to make drivers slow down, then we want them to see that we are out there on the road with them.

“I don’t want citations for seatbelt violations coming across my desk. Citizens are not our property. If they aren’t endangering someone else, leave them alone. There’s more than enough yahoos on the road out there driving drunk, tailgating, changing lanes without signaling, cutting people off, running stop signs, and all kinds of other idiotic stunts, for you to concentrate on. Citizens don’t pay our bills to be harassed, or for you to make up excuses to cite them. You aren’t revenue men anymore, so make that mental adjustment right now. From now on you are public servants, and your job is to protect and serve.”

Kevin raised his hand tentatively.

“Save your questions until I’m done,” Tommy said, and Kevin lowered his hand.

“If you find yourself in a situation that requires backup, then call for it. And if you need to use force–up to and including deadly force–then don’t hesitate. If you’re doing your job right, I’ll have your back. But understand this: that badge doesn’t give you the right to violate anyone’s rights. If you hurt or kill somebody without good reason, then I will be your enemy. And if a suspect is truly resisting arrest, and the situation justifies a call for backup, your job is not to converge on the scene to get your sick jollies beating and tazing the suspect. You get them restrained and back here for booking as quickly, efficiently, and painlessly as possible. Is that understood?”

A chorus of sober “yes sirs” sounded in reply. This was not a happy crew.

“I’ll take questions, now,” Tommy said.

“Is it just us, now?” Kevin asked. “Are you going to replace the deputies you fired?”

“We’re gonna work it like this for now,” Tommy said. “I’ll see how it goes. I might bring in a couple rookies if it turns out we truly are short-handed. But the workload will be going down now that we’re out of the harassment business. This will probably be enough manpower, right here, to do the job we’re getting paid to do.”

Sheriff Flores had bloated the office with a small army of deputies, and ballooned the budget every fiscal year. Paying for all that excess made it necessary to generate revenue by “proactive” policing that made the locals despise and distrust law enforcement.

“Question,” Jeff said. “If we’re only concerned with people who violate the rights of others, how do we deal with drunk drivers?”

“Drunk drivers put other people’s lives at risk,” Tommy replied. “That’s a violation of somebody’s most basic civil liberties: the right to life—weaving all over the road and other drunk behavior will kill somebody; the right to liberty—a wheelchair is a definite infringement on their freedom; and property–the other vehicle or whatever else the drunk is going to crash into.

“Men, I spent some time in the Middle East. That region has the absolute worst drivers in the world. I wouldn’t trust them at 20 miles an hour on an empty four-lane road. But they drive at 110 on two-lane, half-paved roads, with crossing livestock and blind corners. And yet they have only a fraction of the accidents as we have in the States, driver-for-driver. Why? Because they don’t drive drunk. Period. They just don’t do it.”

Another deputy—Walker was his name—raised a hand. “You just told us to use deadly force without hesitation if we need to. Then you said you’ll be our enemy if we hurt or kill somebody. That seems like a contradiction.”

“Two problems, Walker,” Tommy said. “First off, you didn’t listen carefully to my instructions. Poor attention to detail. Secondly, it seems to me that you question your own ability to judge when force is necessary and when it’s not. That’s a fatal flaw in any peace officer.”

“I think his concern,” Harris said, “is the same as mine and everyone else’s: I mean, it’s our first day with you in charge and it’s like you’re taking the side of the civilians over us already.”

Tommy shook his head and ground his teeth for a moment. “Let me make something real clear to all of you right now: you are civilians. You are not soldiers; you are not in an army; and we are not at war with the taxpayers.” He pointed at the booklet Harris absently played with in one hand. “I don’t just expect you to read that, men. I expect you to know it; accept it; and conduct yourselves as if you believe it, for as long as you work for me.”

Within the first four months, three more deputies were gone. Harris tampered with his car camera; Walker coerced sexual favors from a prostitute in Norman. The third quit.

Tommy deputized some academy graduates to replace them. One of them was Janet Bailey, who covered for the dispatcher during her shift, and also updated the website. The image of the county sheriff’s office turned around, between her efforts at communication and the reformed conduct of the deputies.

Looking back on that first year, Tommy was surprised more deputies hadn’t quit. What surprised him even more was that, after a few months, the Feds seemed to lose interest in the bogus murder rap. He was questioned a few times; Gunther and Jenny were questioned; then the Feds backed off. Maybe, by some miracle, an honest person was calling the shots despite the Attorney General. And the fact that Tommy had been too busy with his new duties to keep sniffing around at the Justice Department probably helped.

D MINUS 87

Tommy set his coffee down, took Linda’s hand and kissed it. “It’s good to be home, baby.”

Linda’s dark brown eyes turned sympathetic. “You want to talk about it?”

“You remember that thing you told me about the other day—some link Jenny posted on Facebook about cults?”

Linda made a face. “Oh, yeah. Sick stuff.”

“Can you forward the link to me?”

Linda nodded, then her jaw dropped. “Did you find something like that?”

Neither of them ever turned on the television, unless it was to watch a movie together; so it was no surprise she hadn’t seen the news.

“Yeah,” he said. “I still don’t know how to process what I saw, yet.”

“I’ll send you that link,” Linda said, then moved around behind him to massage his shoulders.

“You still think me running for sheriff was a good idea?” he asked, grunting with pleasure as she kneaded the stress knots out of him.

“I do,” she said, stooping to kiss his neck.

“You’re the greatest,” he moaned, as she continued kneading. “Sorry if I’m more grumpy than normal. I don’t mean to take it out on you.”

“You owe me about 40,000 date nights, Sheriff Scarred Wolf,” she said.

“I know,” he said. “Let’s have one Tuesday night. I found this place I think you’ll like.”

Later, Tommy read the article his niece had posted a link to. It reported occultic rituals all over the country with very similar characteristics to what he found in Cynthia Greeley’s basement. He spent a few hours digging out what information he could on M.O.s, and the belief system which led people to commit these bizarre, disturbing crimes. He jotted down some specific questions to ask the woman and the two teenage boys during interrogation. So far nobody had stepped forward to post bail, and his deputies had little luck getting the boys’ parents to come in.

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Music, Politics/Current Events, Satire

Elvis Reveals How the USA was Obamanated

June 26, 2015 Captain Gearhead Leave a comment

Well, not really Elvis. You DO accept that the man is dead, right? (Long before Hussein crawled out from under his rock and appeared on the national scene.) But since we’ve featured two Elvis songs already this week, and “That’s Alright, Mama” was made famous by him…close enough.

The two paradigm charts featured in the video were too much work not to be displayed where people have time to read them…so we’ll do that. First, the actual left-right paradigm–almost guaranteed to be the opposite of what you were taught in school:

And then there’s the paradigm according to the Social Justice Whiners:

You will see these again, class.

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Typical Leftist Bias Torpedoes Story Potential

THE SOLUTION IS NOT POLITICAL

THE SOLUTION IS NOT ECONOMIC

THERE CERTAINLY IS NO RACIAL SOLUTION

THERE IS NO CULTURAL SOLUTION

THERE IS NO MORAL SOLUTION

THE CORE PROBLEM

THE SOLUTION IS SPIRITUAL

Red-Blooded American Men Examine Pop-Culture and the World