The Terror Threat

5 May 2002

Fighting terrorism with tanks and napalm is like going after a virus with a chainsaw. The problem is spread throughout the entire body politic. Excising them will take precision tools, not blunt instruments. For years, Al Qaeda conspired, expending untold millions and man-hours. So far nineteen of their number have shown their hands. Leads have been tracked down and many of their confederates perhaps have been detained or otherwise neutralized. How many remain? Patiently they go about their lives, waiting for some message, some specific date. The National Guard isn’t going to smoke them out, and neither will the newly federalized Security Squad now Groping Granny at an airport near you!

They tell us not to panic. To cooperate. To understand. And give up just a few more rights for a little more security, a little more peace of mind. After all, they tell us, America welcomed the terrorists with open arms. They used our very openness, our civil rights, against us. The Bill of Rights is not a suicide pact, they tell us. Quite accidentally and unintentionally, they’re right. The Bill of Rights is not a suicide pact, it is a Covenant with Life and a Covenant with Liberty. The terrorists didn’t use our freedom against us, they used our disarmament. They win this war for as long as our government infringes on our Right to Keep and Bear Arms.

If terrorism is a virus in our society, then we are the antibodies.
The Citizen Militia must be Remobilized. The People must be Rearmed.

Could you imagine trying to hijack a jet with knives knowing that the passengers were carrying guns? You’d have to be out of your mind to attempt it. However, if you knew that everyone had been disarmed, you’d feel a lot more confident going in. Your determination and meticulous coordination have given you and your teammates the upper hand. You have the element of surprise, and they have… not. Now suppose the Federal Authorities were confiscating knives. No sweat, you’ve practiced with nylon cord garrotes woven into your ties, ceramic belt-buckles that break into razor shards, ball-point pens, the heel of your hand, and your keys.

Gun control is a dangerous illusion. It is predicated on the notion that, because weapons can aggravate violence, reducing the availability of weapons will reduce the level of violence. The idea, however, is not borne out by the evidence. Admittedly, martial skill and superior firepower can inflict terrible damage, but a great advantage of bearing arms is social equilibrium. It has been said that, “God makes men, but Sam Colt makes them equal.” Yes, weapons can aggravate violence, but they can also mitigate threats, and do so far more often, and therefore prevent violence. What is more, we are surrounded by weapons — lethal, quick, sometimes messy, myriad are the ways of destruction. Who has time to study all the arts of warfare? It’s much easier to carry a half pound of blue steel that’ll do the heavy lifting for you. Whether you weigh ninety pounds or three hundred, it only takes a few ounces of muscle to squeeze that trigger.

The United States should not invade Iraq or Saudi Arabia or Somalia or Afghanistan. The Terror War will have to be fought and won here, on American soil. The enemy is already here and it is up to each of us to shoulder our responsibility.

The Militia is us. Every able-bodied citizen has a responsibility to protect this Republic and its Constitution, from all enemies, foreign and domestic. It’s an oath I swore when I served in the Standing Military, and it’s an oath I’ll swear again as your Representative to the Congress. The greatest threats today to the security of the United States and the American People are the interventionist foreign policy of the Federal Government, and Citizen Disarmament.

Jeremy Glick and Todd Beamer and the other Heroes of the Militia stood up one September morning and, laboring under an unlawful, unconstitutional, and immoral handicap imposed on them by their own Federal Government, wrested a measure of triumph from a day of disaster. It was a day of bitter tragedy and abominable atrocity. There is no shortage of guilt to share. The Bipartisan advocates of Citizen Disarmament are as bloodstained as any suicide bomber. Would that any of dozens of air travelers of September last had been packing heat, the world “would little note nor long remember” the passing of a few dead punks. We have spent most of the last century disarming ourselves. We have domesticated ourselves into a Nation of Sheep. Why wouldn’t the wolves find us tempting prey?

update 180426: It can be seriously depressing being right so much — about The War on Terra’, victim disarmament, and the tempting dangers of “Gun Free” zones. I thought (and said loudly) that going into Iraq was a mistake. I thought (and said loudly) that pursuing Al Qaeda through the Stannous Republics would be arduous, expensive, and probably futile. I guess there’s been some measured “success” on that score. But by and large, the Occupation’s efforts to inflict mass casualties, foment resentment, and engender blowback, has been a resounding success.

And I’m still freely swiping from “Honest” Abe Lincoln, America’s Poet Laureate Emeritus Magna Cum Laude, but if I’m going to steal, why wouldn’t I steal the best?

Out of the Job and Into the Fire

2 September 2020  

I am in the process of moving to a new time zone now, but I’m staying put. 

For about a week I have been clawing my way out of the Third Shift Ghetto.  Neither my cat nor my generally nocturnal metabolism have endorsed this move, nor expressed much interest in assisting me with it, but I am adamant.  I have been sleeping and eating irregularly as a result, but I am gradually altering my habits into a more diurnal schedule.  It’s not that bad, comparatively; I’ve been mainly in a dithering daze for most of the process, never being quite sure whether it’s time to sleep or shit or stare off into space.

But that part’s trivial. 

As of last Friday, I am no longer employed at the QuikkStopp by the Interstate™.  Around a month and a half ago the new edict came down from on high:  Beginning next Tuesday, because Wuhan Flu™ is so serious, employees must be masked while on duty.  (You know, kinda like, “First thing tomorrow morning we need to start evacuating the house because it’s on fire.”)  I had no intention of complying with a one size fits all solution to a highly specific problem, and I told the manager that I would not be participating and attempted to apologize if firing me constituted any hardship.  (It would.  I am an extremely valuable employee.)  He cut me off and told me not to tell him stuff he didn’t need to hear.  I went back to work and hoped that that was the end of it, nor did he bring it up again.  It might have been the end of it.  I didn’t know, but I believe it is more courteous (and generally more profitable) to let people come to their senses rather than to back them into corners.  But some will back themselves into corners.  I suppose the shop manager finally received sufficient heat from above.  Friday morning near the end of my final shift he showed up early and pointed out that I still had not made any effort to comply and I agreed and reiterated my position.  He sighed and asked me if I’d sign a resignation for him, which of course I did, and then we parted.

I am not necessarily delighted by this, and I expect that some will express their doubts, but I am less concerned than ever before.  If necessary, it looks like I might be able to eat my savings until Social Security and their tax victims start kicking in for my support, but that’s probably not the most prudent approach.  First of all, it leans a little too hard on finite assets, and things can change.  Often unexpectedly, and usually for the worse.  Whether by Fed fueled inflation or radical fluctuations in the metals market, my expectations could be severely compromised.  (Or gloriously surpassed.)

Given my family history and generally sound health, early disbursal seems like a bad deal.  Waiting until “full retirement” remains my aim (and not just because it was scheduled for 666.)  Fortunately, monetary inflation and the metals market generally move in parallel, so the metallic approach should cushion me against any nasty Weimar scenarios.  Also fortunately, I can still work arithmetic and will be able to foresee what’s happening to my reserves.  If I do have to bite the bullet and muzzle up for the next QuikkStopp or McGreasetrap’s I will have plenty of notice.

Meanwhile…  Without having my irreplaceable time consumed and my sensitive little feelings battered nightly by entitled children, ignorant savages, and discourteous jerks, I may actually be able to rally the cognitive reserves needed to crack through the arcana and get my books onto Amazon’s platform.  There are about a billion anglophones on Earth.  Of them a fraction CAN read.  Of them a minority fraction DO read.  Of them a fraction read fiction.  Of them a minority fraction read speculative fiction.  Of them a fraction might like my stuff enough to pay me for it.  I want to contact THEM, but I don’t know how yet.

Perhaps quitting the QuikkStopp is just the moral ass-kickin’ that I needed.  Like most girly-men, I am highly risk averse.  I never ran off to Hollywood or Broadway, after all, preferring the more reliably remunerative methods of feeding and educating my children.  Well, I am now unburdened by such considerations.  I may be a little past leading man pretty, and still quite politically repulsive as far as show biz zeitgeist goes, but I can still write, and I still enjoy it.  So, for the next two months, at least, that’s my new job!

:. (edit post 190719 — exposure constituting concealment…)

These comments are sponsored by The Confederate Mint (purveyors of metallic securities in gold, silver, copper, and lead).  For sample sheets of Metallic Certificates (total face value One Tenth Silver Dollar) send One Silver Dime plus a self-addressed stamped envelope; or Four United States Legal Tender Federal Reserve “Dollars” in scrip, check, or money order, to Greigh Area Associates, c/o Gene Greigh //  401 Rio Concho Drive, #105;  San Angelo, Texas;  76903

The Dreaded Upgrade

27 November 2019

So, I finally beat my computer to death.  It was a long hard slog – took me twelve years to do it, but I persisted and now it refuses to come out to play.  As I solicit sympathy, I find some, but the consensus seems to be that twelve years constitutes a win.  I… guess…  Mostly it constitutes a hassle.

And a loss.  And a sad desperate helplessness knowing that my precious files are locked up in that inert box, and that I am stripped of my typewriter and my digital crayons and that I am fenced out of my internet playground.

So chastened am I by the intensity of the loss that I am resolved to re-enter gingerly and deliberately.  But re-enter I must.  Cybernetic intercourse is as “necessary” to modern life as are automobiles and mobile telephones.

It’s going to be a nuisance learning a new operating system and graphical manipulator and word processor, but that’s still probably faster than finishing my current novel by hand, though Cervantes and Fielding seemed to have managed without even a typewriter.  Fortunately, almost ALL of my text is backed up on paper, but there’s still about 30% hiding in my head.

Nevertheless, the project is stalled, due to the exigencies of the Dreaded Upgrade.

Cashlessness

25 February 2020

It is not gaining popularity just because innumerate and illiterate cashiers seem to be de rigueur.  (“Math is hard!”  “Reading is boring!”)  Well, that IS the reason that pictograms cover many of the registers at the QuikkStopp-by-the-Interstate™ and McGreaseTrapp’s™ these days, but not so much the push to eliminate financial freedom or flexibility. 

No, the appeal of cashlessness goes much deeper than that.  Soviet Stukaschi and Nazi Capo would likely appreciate our cashless trend.  By restricting payment to NSA-approved tracking devices (“RFID” &c) it becomes much easier for the Occupation to follow us, watch us, and control us.  By restricting liquid assets to F’eral Reserve Digits instead of grams of silver or liters of gasoline, it becomes much easier for organized criminals to rob us of our resources through inflationary excess, or simply to drain the digits from our accounts at their discretion.  In a cashless world, tax “cheating” would all but disappear.  (And of course, by “cheating” taxes I mean, like “cheating” death, i.e., preserving that which no one had the right to take.)

These comments are sponsored by The Confederate Mint (purveyors of metallic securities in gold, silver, copper, and lead).  For sample sheets of Metallic Certificates (total face value One Tenth Silver Dollar) send One Silver Dime plus a self-addressed stamped envelope; or Four United States Legal Tender Federal Reserve “Dollars” in scrip, check, or money order, to Greigh Area Associates, c/o Gene Greigh // 401 Rio Concho Drive, #105; San Angelo, Texas; 76903

Advantage becomes Privilege becomes Guilt

29 June 2020  

It is a transparent progressive tactic.  Distort or amplify a secondary or tertiary definition of a word and reapply it aggressively in a fashion contrary to connotative consensus until it is turned over or surrendered.  (Ayn Rand tried the reverse tactic in her campaign to rehabilitate the notion of “selfishness” and I continue her work, though I’ve allied selfishness with laziness and cowardice because I believe that those are the fundamental virtues of humanity and the foundations of civilization.)  When one is graced by happenstance (a passive occurrence), one is often also accused of exercising privilege (an affirmative action), and thereby incurring guilt and eventually owing reparations.

Progressive logic demands that because of my sight privilege, I owe compensation to the sightless, and therefore one of my working eyes (or kidneys, or thumbs, or whatever other privileges I am exercising) should be confiscated for another’s use.

These comments are sponsored by The Confederate Mint (purveyors of metallic securities in gold, silver, copper, and lead).  For sample sheets of Metallic Certificates (total face value One Tenth Silver Dollar) send One Silver Dime plus a self-addressed stamped envelope; or Four United States Legal Tender Federal Reserve “Dollars” in scrip, check, or money order, to Greigh Area Associates, c/o Gene Greigh //  401 Rio Concho Drive, #105;  San Angelo, Texas;  76903

Supremacist Conclusions

12 July 2020  

I guess it’s time to confess my “white supremacism.”  It was inevitable.  Keep changing the definition and eventually it will land on me.  Now that the new definition of “white supremacism” is “rational, sober, reflective, factual, and objective” it is time for me to embrace it. 

But what to do with this newly found “white supremacism?”   I know!  I shall objectively (or “white supremely”) compare certain public figures in light of their records and rhetoric, and conclude therefrom that:

Lawrence Jones is smarter than Jesse Watters,
Ben Carson is smarter than Steve Mnuchin,
Candace Owens is smarter than Joy Behar,
Larry Elder is smarter than Brian Stelter,
Walter Williams is smarter than Robert Reich,
Thomas Sowell is smarter than Paul Krugman,
And Eric July is smarter than Marshall Mathers.

But that’s no surprise.  They’re all probably “white supremacists” too!

This was admittedly a brief and cursory review, and I may have some of these relationships reversed (but I doubt it.)  I naturally welcome correction or other insights.  Since I am a “white supremacist” you can be confident that I WILL be swayed by facts and reason, if not leftie tears.

update 210104: The list above was an approximation, based on my (perhaps too distant?) observations. At this time, however, I now sadly conclude that Robert Reich is smarter than Walter Williams, and has been since about the 2nd of December. Or at least he presently demonstrates considerably more brain activity. Meanwhile, for now, Spokesmodel Select Biden remains smarter than rocks, as President Select Harris remains nicer than cholera, mosquitos, AND poison ivy.

Honesty, Accidental & Otherwise

6 January 2020

Most popular lyrics are fantastic (not “extremely excellent,” but “not realistic, like a fantasy.”)  Every once in a while an author can get away with telling the truth, and it can be a thing of beauty.  Some of the most honest lyrics in memory are as follows:

From Van Morrison — “The girls walk by, dressed up for each other.”  Bearing in mind that generally only bookies profit from betting on averages (think talking lizards or mayhem like Dean Winters), Van nails it here.  He understands that “nobody” dresses to impress men.  Men dress to impress women, and women dress to impress women.  Women undress to impress men.

From Jimmy Buffet – the central theme of maybe half of all popular songs written not involving revenge killing (“I’d rather see you dead, little girl”) or tribal allegiance (“You essay!  You essay!”) is the honkytonk hookup.  Kris Kristofferson may have expressed it (quite beautifully) with “hold your warm and tender body next to mine” but he was really just saying, as did Jimmy, “Why don’t we get drunk and screw?”

The next example just makes me sad, but I fancy myself an objective analyst, so its inclusion is required.  From Brain Dead Bimbette — “I wanna be like, I wanna be like, most girls.”  The flock hates the individual more than it fears the wolf, and will scorn such outliers, even at the risk of its own safety.  There is emotional security in numbers, and as long as we’re uniformly attired in our sagging trousers and reversed hats everyone is “equal” and no one stands out as “better than” anyone else.  Prominence will be punished!

Do I make too much of this?  It’s hard not to when it sounds so much like, “I wanna bleat like, I wanna bleat like, most sheep.

I Don’t Do White Guys

10 July 2020  

Friends wonder just how far I’ll take things in my claims of indifference and frugality.  I am not embarrassed to intercept rubbish if I think I can put it to good use, and I’m happy to wear free T-shirts, even if they advertise people or products that I wouldn’t necessarily endorse.  But what if they make other claims?  “Kiss the Cook” or “Here Comes Trouble” are probably apt of their own right, so I’d have no conflict there.  But what about more provocative statements?  Well, again, if it’s a free shirt, what am I gonna do?  Not wear it? 

Yeah.  Maybe.   How about, “I Don’t Do Black Guys”?  It’s true, of course, but exceptions imply conditions.  Now, I don’t feel the slightest bit “homophobic” but I still like girls, so I’m not likely to be “doing” any “guys” at all, irrespective of their color.  But as for “black”?  That particular exception might be considered a little too much for our contemporary racialist scene.   In deep winter, under many layers, all bets are off. But mowing the grass in July?   I think not.  On the other hand, “Go Team” or “I Don’t Do White Guys” WOULD be acceptable T-shirts (assuming the price were right).  Basically, if I don’t have to pay for the shirt and nobody’s about to start any fights over it, I’m good to go.

These comments are sponsored by The Confederate Mint (purveyors of metallic securities in gold, silver, copper, and lead).  For sample sheets of Metallic Certificates (total face value One Tenth Silver Dollar) send One Silver Dime plus a self-addressed stamped envelope; or 
Four United States Legal Tender Federal Reserve “Dollars” in scrip, check, or money order, to Greigh Area Associates,
c/o Gene Greigh //  401 Rio Concho Drive, Suite 105; 
San Angelo, Texas;  76903

in re “Washington Redskins”

3 July 2020  

I am generally loath to throw the racial identity card, but if it helps to amplify my megaphone, I will point out that recent genetic testing reveals my indigenous North American ancestry to be about ten percent. 

I understand that the sponsors and supporters of the “Washington Redskins” are contemplating a name change.  In light of current cultural and market conditions, that may be apt.  The name is unfortunately and permanently linked to racism, cultural appropriation, conquest, and genocide.  If I were a sports fan or a nativist or otherwise cared I would suggest that the team henceforth call themselves the Potomac Redskins.

update 200706:  correspondent Al Assassid rebukes my jest as “racist,” declaring that “racism [is not] funny.”  I agree, of course. Racism is not and never has been funny. Nor death, nor disaster, nor any other tragedy in life. Juxtaposition and surprise and contrast are funny. Or at least they are a start.  Maybe they’re necessary conditions; sufficient conditions are subject to taste. Al goes on to state that “[i]t just doesn’t help to perpetuate the racist word… no matter how well you do the juxtaposition. Now if it were a joke about… gods… I might go along happily. But enough racism has happened and I’m calling it when I see it.”

Apparently, not quite enough blasphemy or profanity has happened, so while it’s currently not okeh to hurt the feelings of the racially sensitive, it is still okeh to hurt the feelings of the spiritually sensitive. 

Incantations and Curses are powerful tools in the Sympathetic Magician’s kit, but only when the marks buy into his schtick.

These comments are sponsored by The Confederate Mint (purveyors of metallic securities in gold, silver, copper, and lead).  For sample sheets of Metallic Certificates (total face value One Tenth Silver Dollar) send One Silver Dime plus a self-addressed stamped envelope; or Four United States Legal Tender Federal Reserve “Dollars” in scrip, check, or money order, to Greigh Area Associates, c/o Gene Greigh //  401 Rio Concho Drive, #105;  San Angelo, Texas;  76903

Archist Siege

11 June 2020  

There doesn’t seem to be a single successful newsreader on network television who understands anarchy.  Even such self-described “liberal’ or “conservative” great minds as Geraldo (“Good Night America”) Rivera and Sean (“Stop the Inns”) Hannity, whose ideologies span the narrow center of the political spectrum, seem to agree in their assessment of the savage occupation of Seattle’s Capitol Hill —  “They’re anarchists!” 

Really?  Let’s look at the record.

By dint of superior arms and other tactical advantages, they have seized a contiguous body of land.  They have established borders and crossing checkpoints.  They have accepted foreign aid from a neighboring jurisdiction.  Revenue agents roam the land, shaking down the local merchants for the “privilege” of doing business in the “state of nature.”  (Whether you call that “taxation” or “extortion” makes little difference; violence is threatened, either directly or obliquely, and victims cough up.

That’s not anarchy.  That’s government!