night driver
ESFP adrift in INTJ sea
Best read at: https://raconteurreport.blogspot.com/2019/03/and-drum-beats-on.html
Read there and follow the links there.
Thursday, March 7, 2019
And The Drum Beats On...
h/t WRSA
Today, this thoughtful essay from Malcolm Pollack:
"'Because the next Democrat president might be the last president of a free America, and then we will have to shoot our way out of socialism.' -[from Sarah Hoyt]
That’s it exactly: we are desperate. We know how close we are to the edge, to the dissolution of civilized order into chaos and tyranny. We can feel in our bones the implacable hatred of our would-be commissars for everything we believe is good and right and true — along with a growing understanding that their hatred doesn’t stop at our traditions and beliefs. As long as we live and breathe, we are a threat. If the blood-soaked history of the twentieth century can teach us anything at all, it should teach us that it will not be enough to see us displaced and destroyed. They will want us dead and gone.
One of the milestones along the road to civil war is the normalization of violence as a rational response to a dehumanized enemy, followed soon after by an eagerness for general conflict."
RTWT.
We, along with many others, have been telling you the same thing, for years.
When the legacy media pundits are starting to trip over it, we've already passed Peak Reality. This one is just another datum to add to the graph.
When 200 compasses all point north as being in the same direction, you're got a pretty good handle on which direction you're heading. True in the actual wilderness, and true in the wilderness into which national political discourse has wandered. Nothing looks right, but there's a lingering overcast, and an oppressive heavy stench of decay, with a faint whiff of death nearby, but just beyond the fog and undergrowth.
We are entering what Sun Tzu called "death ground".
The place where wise generals dread to fight, and where the consequences for the loser are permanent.
There will be no retrograde, no feint, no headlong retreat.
We are heading into the civilizational Thunderdome:
Two men enter, one man leaves.
And the man who leaves will not be the same one who entered, when the contest is all over.
For those slower on the uptake, these are the Good Old Days.
Ahead lies a terrible struggle, endarkenment, and horrors better left unimagined.
Talking about them now would bring skepticism; describing them in the moment would show the poverty of mere words to contain them, and be wholly gratuitous at that point.
Steel your hearts now to what's coming. Savor the sights and sounds and smells of what is and what was in your lifetime, that some among you may someday convey them to generations unmarked by what is to transpire, that they might by some means restore and someday surpass the things which daily become but fond memories.
Get your grieving out of the way now. There'll be no time nor place for it in coming days, and afterwards, the weight and enormity of what you'll know would slay an elephant. Learn this lesson from history: there are no end of letters and books and stories and movies about the Second World War, terrible as it was. But of the great European slaughterhouse that was the First World War, scarcely a generation earlier, there is comparative silence. Hundreds of thousands of corpses filled a mile-wide No-Man's Land from the North Sea to the Alps, and the corpses were trodden and shelled and chewed up by rats for four long and horrible years. The scars mark that continent to the present day, a century later. Much of that generation was completely erased, crippling those countries even now, and hastening the demise of that continent under the relentless tide of demography.
For most of my lifetime, we rejoiced that our Civil War was a century earlier, and the whole of the continent itself entirely unscathed by either world war. And we were right to do so.
But that is about to change. Anywhere from a week to a generation from now, the relentless drumbeat of idiocy that cannot abide free men going about their days, and must control every waking moment, every word that escapes their lips, every thought that flits through their minds, and ultimately, every beating of their lifeblood, will be satiated with nothing less that victory, or a bayonet to the heart.
They think they want the conflict they would foment.
And they've abandoned any moorings of reason, logic, self-interest, or common sense, and any boundaries of decent or morally-bounded behavior to accomplish their nightmare of ultimate total control of all, by their chosen few, whom they assure us are oh-so-very-much-smarter than we Deplorables.
They are going to have to be not just beaten back, but utterly destroyed. All memory of them wiped from human reckoning. Not just their army destroyed, but their women killed, and their babies' heads smashed on rocks, and all those who cheered them on eliminated to the last man. Their livestock slaughtered, their temples of error pulled down until one stone lies not upon another, and their fields sown with salt, that nothing will ever grow there again. Like Carthage after the Third Punic War, which policy ensured for all time that there never came a Fourth Punic War.
And their calling cards are the same ones throughout history.
They want to shut you up.
They want to disarm you.
And then, free of your arguments and your arms, they want to kill you.
That's why they now openly proclaim the outright plan to strip the clear acknowledgements of the First and Second Amendments, and muse before God and everybody how joyful and pleasant it would be to come and round you up, and kill you.
Take such thoughts and such people exactly at their word.
Some historically-minded wonder what it would have been like if only someone had strangled Hitler in his crib. It would never happen, for the same reasons you aren't doing it now. You have half a Congress full of would-be führers, gruppenführers, and gauleiters, openly telling you what they want, and will do given the slightest chance, and yet nobody's fired so much as a single shot. And likely, nobody will. They wait until the columns march into whatever suffices for Poland these days before they'll recognize they let things go too far, and only pay attention too late. Pray the response is not too little.
The Jews who said "Never again!" got it wrong.
The truth of human history is "Again and again."
To believe otherwise is but delusional wishful thinking.
It's a warm and comforting psychosis much like end-stage hypothermia: one just nods off, and enters oblivion.
Life is struggle. Sometimes less, sometimes more. We who have known little struggle are about to get all too familiar with more. Life forms unequal to that struggle are culled mercilessly and pitilessly from existence.
Many of us try to stockpile needful things. Some of us limber up. Many pine and itch for the trumpet to finally sound, before time and infirmity render them unequal for the tasks they could compass in their younger days. Those too young to know what's to come chafe at that ignorance, wishing now they were in it, not knowing that when they are "in it" they would wish themselves at home in their beds, or anywhere else but where they shall be, if only wishing made it so.
Stock your larders. Sharpen your weapons. Fortify your walls. And gather your friends.
The hard-hearted ones. The ones who can deal with adversity. The ones who can laugh in the darkest days, and push on through the darkest nights.
Crybabies and mama's boys may die as well as any other, but they waste resources, and bring nothing of value.
What's going to come, eventually, is going to be a problem for two types of people:
Those who have no idea of what's coming.
And those who do.
Posted by Aesop at 9:45 PM
Labels: Coming Attractions, preparedness
Read there and follow the links there.
Thursday, March 7, 2019
And The Drum Beats On...
h/t WRSA
Today, this thoughtful essay from Malcolm Pollack:
"'Because the next Democrat president might be the last president of a free America, and then we will have to shoot our way out of socialism.' -[from Sarah Hoyt]
That’s it exactly: we are desperate. We know how close we are to the edge, to the dissolution of civilized order into chaos and tyranny. We can feel in our bones the implacable hatred of our would-be commissars for everything we believe is good and right and true — along with a growing understanding that their hatred doesn’t stop at our traditions and beliefs. As long as we live and breathe, we are a threat. If the blood-soaked history of the twentieth century can teach us anything at all, it should teach us that it will not be enough to see us displaced and destroyed. They will want us dead and gone.
One of the milestones along the road to civil war is the normalization of violence as a rational response to a dehumanized enemy, followed soon after by an eagerness for general conflict."
RTWT.
We, along with many others, have been telling you the same thing, for years.
When the legacy media pundits are starting to trip over it, we've already passed Peak Reality. This one is just another datum to add to the graph.
When 200 compasses all point north as being in the same direction, you're got a pretty good handle on which direction you're heading. True in the actual wilderness, and true in the wilderness into which national political discourse has wandered. Nothing looks right, but there's a lingering overcast, and an oppressive heavy stench of decay, with a faint whiff of death nearby, but just beyond the fog and undergrowth.
We are entering what Sun Tzu called "death ground".
The place where wise generals dread to fight, and where the consequences for the loser are permanent.
There will be no retrograde, no feint, no headlong retreat.
We are heading into the civilizational Thunderdome:
Two men enter, one man leaves.
And the man who leaves will not be the same one who entered, when the contest is all over.
For those slower on the uptake, these are the Good Old Days.
Ahead lies a terrible struggle, endarkenment, and horrors better left unimagined.
Talking about them now would bring skepticism; describing them in the moment would show the poverty of mere words to contain them, and be wholly gratuitous at that point.
Steel your hearts now to what's coming. Savor the sights and sounds and smells of what is and what was in your lifetime, that some among you may someday convey them to generations unmarked by what is to transpire, that they might by some means restore and someday surpass the things which daily become but fond memories.
Get your grieving out of the way now. There'll be no time nor place for it in coming days, and afterwards, the weight and enormity of what you'll know would slay an elephant. Learn this lesson from history: there are no end of letters and books and stories and movies about the Second World War, terrible as it was. But of the great European slaughterhouse that was the First World War, scarcely a generation earlier, there is comparative silence. Hundreds of thousands of corpses filled a mile-wide No-Man's Land from the North Sea to the Alps, and the corpses were trodden and shelled and chewed up by rats for four long and horrible years. The scars mark that continent to the present day, a century later. Much of that generation was completely erased, crippling those countries even now, and hastening the demise of that continent under the relentless tide of demography.
For most of my lifetime, we rejoiced that our Civil War was a century earlier, and the whole of the continent itself entirely unscathed by either world war. And we were right to do so.
But that is about to change. Anywhere from a week to a generation from now, the relentless drumbeat of idiocy that cannot abide free men going about their days, and must control every waking moment, every word that escapes their lips, every thought that flits through their minds, and ultimately, every beating of their lifeblood, will be satiated with nothing less that victory, or a bayonet to the heart.
They think they want the conflict they would foment.
And they've abandoned any moorings of reason, logic, self-interest, or common sense, and any boundaries of decent or morally-bounded behavior to accomplish their nightmare of ultimate total control of all, by their chosen few, whom they assure us are oh-so-very-much-smarter than we Deplorables.
They are going to have to be not just beaten back, but utterly destroyed. All memory of them wiped from human reckoning. Not just their army destroyed, but their women killed, and their babies' heads smashed on rocks, and all those who cheered them on eliminated to the last man. Their livestock slaughtered, their temples of error pulled down until one stone lies not upon another, and their fields sown with salt, that nothing will ever grow there again. Like Carthage after the Third Punic War, which policy ensured for all time that there never came a Fourth Punic War.
And their calling cards are the same ones throughout history.
They want to shut you up.
They want to disarm you.
And then, free of your arguments and your arms, they want to kill you.
That's why they now openly proclaim the outright plan to strip the clear acknowledgements of the First and Second Amendments, and muse before God and everybody how joyful and pleasant it would be to come and round you up, and kill you.
Take such thoughts and such people exactly at their word.
Some historically-minded wonder what it would have been like if only someone had strangled Hitler in his crib. It would never happen, for the same reasons you aren't doing it now. You have half a Congress full of would-be führers, gruppenführers, and gauleiters, openly telling you what they want, and will do given the slightest chance, and yet nobody's fired so much as a single shot. And likely, nobody will. They wait until the columns march into whatever suffices for Poland these days before they'll recognize they let things go too far, and only pay attention too late. Pray the response is not too little.
The Jews who said "Never again!" got it wrong.
The truth of human history is "Again and again."
To believe otherwise is but delusional wishful thinking.
It's a warm and comforting psychosis much like end-stage hypothermia: one just nods off, and enters oblivion.
Life is struggle. Sometimes less, sometimes more. We who have known little struggle are about to get all too familiar with more. Life forms unequal to that struggle are culled mercilessly and pitilessly from existence.
Many of us try to stockpile needful things. Some of us limber up. Many pine and itch for the trumpet to finally sound, before time and infirmity render them unequal for the tasks they could compass in their younger days. Those too young to know what's to come chafe at that ignorance, wishing now they were in it, not knowing that when they are "in it" they would wish themselves at home in their beds, or anywhere else but where they shall be, if only wishing made it so.
Stock your larders. Sharpen your weapons. Fortify your walls. And gather your friends.
The hard-hearted ones. The ones who can deal with adversity. The ones who can laugh in the darkest days, and push on through the darkest nights.
Crybabies and mama's boys may die as well as any other, but they waste resources, and bring nothing of value.
What's going to come, eventually, is going to be a problem for two types of people:
Those who have no idea of what's coming.
And those who do.
Posted by Aesop at 9:45 PM
Labels: Coming Attractions, preparedness
