An Armed Citizenry or a Totalitarian State: No Third Option

One reason for the Second Amendment remains constantly (and deliberately) unmentioned—but it should be brought fully into the open.

Citizens have the right to bear arms because an armed citizenry is far less likely to be overrun by a national police force (such as Barack Obama yearned after in his vocalized daydreams) or a military machine turned against its own populace.

Ironically, the leftwing mistrust and detestation of “racist, trigger-happy” cops recedes beyond the vanishing point when the issue of gun control arises.  So, too, the Left’s formulaic nightmare (realized only in Hollywood’s infinite reenactments) of a military coup led by bullet-headed fascists: it’s a nightmare only if the uniforms adorn the cause of nationalist traditionalism.  Let them be worn, instead, by progressive totalitarians, and a dictatorship or police state suddenly becomes the first stage of Nirvana.

The contemporary Left, you see, stands for anything but liberalism.  Its adherents salivate at the prospect of suspending individual liberties permanently so that “experts” and “the enlightened” may have exclusive say in how the ship of state is navigated.  Gun confiscation stirs the left wing so passionately today precisely because progressives know that forcible takeover and subjugation of the entire nation will be all but impossible until we are disarmed.

The Left’s much-advertised concern for children is pure crap—and I treat it here with the contempt it deserves.  Numerous common-sense and immediately feasible strategies for defending our schools have already been advanced.  Imbeciles like the English teacher who quipped, “I wouldn’t expect a security guard to walk in and teach Shakespeare, so I shouldn’t be expected to carry a gun,” are perhaps sincere in their complete misconstruction of the issues (nobody is proposing that all teachers—or any teacher—be required to bear arms); but the ideological puppeteers behind these wooden-witted Pinocchios know exactly what the endgame is.  Once the United States is reduced to Mexico (a hell of political corruption being fled by its terrorized citizens), then the next Barack Obama can steer the state wherever he likes.

I own no assault rifle and have no plans to buy one.  I don’t see myself, at my age, mowing down stormtroopers from my bunker with a fifty-caliber machine gun.  But I’ll admit that I am pleased to have such types sown about the neighborhood secretively, just as I’m glad to know that some teachers are packing on my campus, though I personally am not.

Frankly (since I am being very frank today), I incline to believe that securing our individual freedom is already largely a lost cause.  I have written many times before of the “Phoenix Lights”: a UFO incident in 1997 for which I have personal confirmation, which was viewed by thousands, and which was “camcorded” by dozens.  It has nagged at me for years.  If only it were an air show staged by extra-terrestrials… but I draw ever closer to the conclusion that our own “black ops” were testing us in some way.  The extreme carelessness of unleashing so many craft to execute “impossible” maneuvers over a major city has always particularly bothered me as nonsensical… unless, of course, the whole display was fully intentional.  Why would ET come out of the woodwork suddenly after staying so well hidden as to render himself an urban legend?  But why would our military make the same gaffe?  I don’t know… to see how we would react, maybe?  To see just how panicky people would become, how quickly the panic could be managed, how cooperative the media would be in deriding and then dropping the story, how soon eye-witnesses would shrug and drift back into their daily routine?  If such was the purpose of the “blunder”, then it must have yielded answers that mightily pleased its designers.  Verdict: the American public could be overrun by force majeure in discrete locations without breaking into full-scale riots, and the media machine would ensure that the rest of the nation drifted back to sleep within days, if not hours.

If anti-gravity technology coupled with speeds of Mach 20 or 30 already exists on off-the-grid airbases, then whether you or I have an AR 15 doesn’t make a whole helluva lot of difference to staving off the imminent police state.  I guess the only remaining question of any consequence is whether the uniforms on that airbase belong to nationalist or progressivist totalitarians… and I’m not at all sure that the answer would, in fact, be consequential.

But it would be something—a last hurrah, if not a last hope—if our spoiled-brat children and useful-idiot educators and policy-makers could at least see the noose being knotted for their necks… or could, at the very least, abstain from volunteering to slip it over their heads.


9/11 Again: Did the CIA Get Played One More Time?

A very fast one today.  I watched the new British documentary about 9/11 on Netflix yesterday.  Was disappointed that the producers gave certain logistical inconsistencies and physical impossibilities in the official narrative a complete pass.  Obviously, their interests lay elsewhere.  It would have been okay just to say as much: no need to caricature those of us suspicious of the two towers’ incredibly telescopic collapse (repeated later by WTT 7) as believing that the planes themselves were just photoshopped in for the television audience and that the arms industries wanted to gin up business by starting a war.

The chosen focus was on the CIA’s refusing to share vital information with the FBI in a timely manner, and in the subsequent cover-up of a significant Saudi connection by all branches of the federal government.  Here’s a proposal: might the CIA have thought that Mohammed Atta & Co. were working undercover for Uncle Sam right up until the time that they steered the jetliners into the Towers?  Might the idea, that is, have been to stage four highjackings on the same day, land the jets in DC, incur a few civilian casualties as the planes and hostages were retaken, and then use the incident as an excuse for pressuring Saddam and ridding the House of Saud of Osama Bin Laden’s annoying influence?  The highjackers, one must presume, would not have been in on the whole scheme; they would have supposed that they were winning one for the Great Gipper in the Sky.  Yet they may well have received a degree of CIA training, and that organization was most certainly trying to recruit them.  This could have been a case of A playing B who thought he was playing A.

My theory would explain why no government agency has been forthcoming with details about events leading up to the highjackings.  The truth would make the CIA look indefensibly, perhaps fatally naive and obtuse.  And the Saudis, as co-owners of the secret, would of course have to be protected from public scrutiny lest they spill the beans.  If I’ve learned nothing else about careerist bureaucrats in high places during my long life, it’s that they know how to cover their tails.

Look at Operation Fast and Furious, where the Obama Administration was trying to use ATF to manipulate public opinion against the Second Amendment.  When things blew up, agents in the field were disgraced, released, and otherwise gagged if they attempted to cry foul.

Or look at the Kennedy assassination.  There’s quite a bit of evidence now that the CIA was bankrolling bands of Cuban exiles to train for guerrilla-like raids on Castro’s domain, that Oswald fell in with such a group that had been penetrated 100 percent by Castro’s own operatives, and that the president was thus shot thanks to training (and perhaps hardware) paid for by our tax dollars.  Again, we got played by the people we were trying to play.

I wish I could believe that 9/11 were as “simple” as this.  The trouble is that a massive structure severely compromised on one side about 80 percent of the way up doesn’t neatly accordion to the ground: its crown leans into the wound and falls.  The Popular Mechanics study that gave the thumbs up to this insane physics… I really do need to get a copy of the report.

Guns: Part Two

I’m not crazy about guns. I very seldom fire one any more—they take time to clean, and the shells are almost prohibitively expensive if you don’t have a reloading press. Furthermore, I particularly hate automatics. They jam, and I’m also never quite sure that a final round isn’t hiding in the chamber. I find them hard to aim, as well.

When I was about sixteen, I began acquiring a series of replica pistols that used black powder and loaded Minié balls from the cylinder’s forward end with the aid of a ramrod slung under the barrel. They were small cannons, in effect. I would retrieve the lead from two-by-four targets and melt it down to create more balls. The complete experience was very educational with regard (for instance) to how the Civil War was fought: but its complexity, its racket, and its risk also inspired in me a deep respect for the firearm. Guns are and always have been—and always should be—the last resort in the struggle to survive.

I’ve known, or known of, many people who boast of their time on the shooting range as if they had run a weekend marathon or pumped weights for an hour at the gym. They act as though shooting is physical exercise; and indeed, most of them need a strong dose of the real thing. Simply squeezing off rounds doesn’t prove you’re a man, develop your biceps, or bring you closer to nature. I don’t understand this “winning your spurs” attitude toward shooting that licenses the initiate to swagger like a saddle-sore cowboy. Petite females, in fact, are often the most enthusiastic and devoted shooters, precisely because they realize that the “equalizer” (as the 1873 Peacemaker was dubbed by its loving patrons) gives them a fair chance against a 250-pound assailant.

Would the world be a better place without guns? I doubt it. Then the lone female would again be easy prey for the criminal predator. Fights and even full-blown wars would probably also be more common, both because the opposing sides might suppose they had less to lose and also because the act of combat would be deemed a fitting measure of manhood (since trading Homeric blows tends to reward strength and determination, whereas surviving in a bullet-heavy atmosphere is largely a matter of chance). The butcher-bills reported by Julius Caesar in his foreign campaigns are utterly staggering.

Truth to tell, the “romance” of the firearm has been purveyed more by Hollywood blockbusters and the video games that have fed off them than by redneck Westerners plunking at bottles on their remote ranches. I’ve given up movies, for the most part. I can’t stand the glorification of gunplay and the sociopathic indifference to its consequences (not to mention the childish ignorance of the physics involved). I’m not a “snowflake”. On the contrary, it is because of my fair familiarity with guns that their constant use to supplement AWOL plots and characterization by an industry without conscience or other signs of basic intelligence disgusts me.

Why, after all of these shooting incidents, do we never hear a cry and hue rising from the Democrat Party to discipline—or at least boycott—Hollywood’s antinomian, homicidal tripe? Why, for that matter, have I heard not a single plea from either side of the aisle to outlaw the bullet-proof vest? That unique garment would be my greatest fear, if I were concealing a small handgun legally in church for my and my neighbors’ defense when Punk Sociopath bursts in screaming, “I’m so offended that the world hasn’t made me emperor!” as he sports a bullet-resisting jacket. Great. Now we’re all dead unless I squeeze off a perfect shot.

Why does nobody ever ask questions like that? What good would it do to collect all the legal weapons? What good would it have done, Mr. Republican, if the Air Force had done its job and put the Kelley punk’s risk factors in a database? You think people can’t purchase guns illegally? What good would it have done, Mr. Savage and Ms. Ingraham, if the swine had been confined to a mental hospital? Thanks to our “entertainment” industry, we’re grinding out psychos faster than Planters shells peanuts. Why don’t you all tune down your mouths long enough to think?


Guns: Part One

Why was I so mad at the Left in my last post?  Oh, I don’t know… maybe just because I’m so tired of lies from every political quarter, and because the Left’s pose of outrage at gun violence is especially sanctimonious, hypocritical, and fraudulent.  I can lie to you about a car because I want to sell it; and then again, I can lie about the car while also telling you how sick I am of lying car salesmen.  The Left’s rhetorical position on guns is of the latter sort.
Remember Operation Fast and Furious?  No?  Well, no wonder!  It wasn’t really, as one might say in the high calling of journalism, “covered”.  A corrupt FBI collaborating with the corrupt Holder Department of Justice to disseminate guns illegally among Mexican cartels in the hope that these latter would kill lots of innocents (as they obligingly did) and stir outrage in the States against the Second Amendment… it was Phase Two alone that didn’t quite go as planned.
I’ll be perfectly blunt.  If there is indeed any sort of conspiracy behind the Las Vegas massacre (and the disappearance of a serious investigation certainly enhances the plausibility of a cover-up), then my money is on Fast and Furious, Take Two.  The American mainstream was insufficiently riled up when a score of birthday-partying kids in Juarez was murdered due to Holder’s gun-running… so this time, let’s gun down some middle Americans themselves.  Let’s get them at a Country Music concert, where their kind likes to gather for patriotic expressions in twangy tones and maybe a prayer or two.  Riddle Uncle Cletus and Sister Sharlane with bullets, and let’s see then what they all think of the NRA.
Do I really believe that certain politicos associated with the left side of the aisle would connive at gunning down dozens of unsuspecting citizens?  Well, at least two Democrats left the floor of the House when Paul Ryan called for a moment of silence on behalf of the victims, and a CBS exec voiced publicly that the gun-owners among the fallen deserved to die.  Several of the “D” persuasion made no bones about tweeting out a snarky contempt (understood as humor in their circle) for the fifty-eight redneck fatalities.  And I must repeat: Fast and Furious introduced the script.  There’s nothing in this “conspiracy” that wasn’t zealously and demonstrably executed under Eric Holder’s reign.
Why would any human being, let alone a public servant of the highest standing, conspire to murder dozens or hundreds of fellow beings?  Because, you see, the Second Amendment must go at all costs.  It is the log-jammer in the bottleneck: it is what inhibits the forward surge of the totalitarian progressivist state.  We will never be able to arrange the lives of individual people who are too benighted to understand the destiny awaiting the species as long as they can resist forcible persuasion effectively.  We must have their weapons.  Why is the US not Mexico?  Because Mexicans cannot stand up against homicidal marauders and corrupt police who work hand-in-glove with them.  We can perhaps draw enough Mexicans into our nation that, endowed with their inbred subjection to the will of the patrón, they will create a critical mass at the ballot box; but right now, that strategy is looking dubious.  Maybe we need another, if we’re progressives.
The endgame is to get the guns.  All of them.
Hence the knee-jerk response from the Left every time any incidence of gun violence occurs: never miss an occasion to remind John Q. Average that this is happening entirely and only because of the Second Amendment.  And if some of the Average clan should drop dead of lead poisoning, in the process… all the better!  To make an omelet, you have to break some eggs.


“Da Gub’ment”: Lying Liars, or Just Liars?

(I composed this piece before the church shooting yesterday, which I haven’t fully grappled with yet.  These events are not tragedies, by the way: they’re atrocities.)

My wife passed along a link to an article that explained “the truth” behind the Las Vegas slaughter. Seems that George Soros sold his stock in one posh resort and purchased another in deep trouble because he knew the Arab Air Force was taking a holiday in Vegas, and he boarded the whole crew in his new purchase on the condition that they train in helicopters to practice surgical extractions, and this they did for a while… and… and then when what’s-his-name (I’m not going to refresh my memory) opened up as per orders, the Arabs supplied further shooters, and then they offed the Yankee swine so that it looked like a suicide, and then the chopper picked them up, and they were soon back in Riyadh without leaving a fingerprint behind. And George Soros had thus brought the collapse of the United States one step closer by mowing down the attendees of a Country-Western concert, and had also fattened his real estate portfolio.

Or something like that.

I have a few things to say about the “conspiracy” phenomenon. I suppose I should begin by admitting that I didn’t read the article in question very closely. It probably has more merit than I’ve indicated: I just didn’t have the time to plow into all of its tortured intricacy.

As absurd as such wild-and-woolly yarns appear, I will also say that the attitude of the authorities in this and many other such cases primes one to suspect the presence of skeletons in closets. Why is it that the hotel security guard in Vegas with the dubious account of events is still at large? If he’s in Mexico, why has he not been extradited? And why is it that certain survivors of the massacre who contradicted the “one shooter” narrative appear to have turned up dead—or is that also an exaggeration? Since the media are no longer offering any information at all, how is one to process the hysteria-laden fragments that leak out over the Internet?

Do we just trust our avuncular authority figures? I recall that there were one or two cases of Sudden Witness Death Syndrome after 9/11, as well. Were these, too, apocryphal? But why did our beloved Uncle Sam double down on the story that a massive structure compromised mostly on just one side would quite naturally fold up like a telescope straight down into the ground (as opposed to hurling its eventually severed top quarter lengthwise over Manhattan)? How is it that PBS Nova immediately managed to find some academics (I think they were from MIT) who obligingly produced a lab experiment to validate this patent imbecility, imposing parameters on their mini-tower under stress that had little correlation to the actual event? And the event, remember, was repeated not once, but twice, on that fateful day. Three towers neatly telescoped in a fashion that demolition experts must labor weeks to arrange.

Whom should we trust about the Roswell “flying saucer”: the local ranchers and first-responders whose families were thuggishly threatened if they didn’t shut up, or our “heroes in uniform” who apparently couldn’t distinguish one of their own weather balloons from a speeding metallic craft and who cordoned off a huge amount of acreage to collect—on their testimony—balloon guts?

People believe garbage nowadays and gravitate to any kind of conspiracy theory because their government has accustomed them to suppose its agents capable of any kind of duplicity. Look at how the FBI, even as I write, is doing everything it possibly can to stink up the last syllable of yesteryear’s Hollywood PR (farewell, Ephraim Zimbalist, Jr.) as the shilling of James Comey and Robert Mueller for the Clintons leaks from a broken sewer line.

Indeed, I should not be surprised to learn that the harebrained George Soros fantasy about Las Vegas was hatched by a government entity with the express purpose of defaming all conspiracy theories aimed at our courageous authorities. Merely condition the public to roll its collective eyes whenever “da gub’ment” is accused of something dastardly… and you, as a proto-totalitarian government operative, have created a “get out of jail free” card that can be played a dozen times.

I genuinely, sincerely hate this. When officially sanctioned lying becomes ubiquitous, as it has in our failing democratic republic, then one is reduced to trying to live by the maxim, “Believe nothing”… which is impossible.

And I just now have new thoughts about Vegas, which I’ll hold for next time.


The Scriptwriters of Alien Abductions: Dare We Name Them? (Part Two)

As well as information on David Jacobs’ research, I’ve lately found on Netflix a documentary about Stan Romanek. This rather Walter Mitty-ish middle-aged American claims to have been abducted by aliens several times since childhood. The only evidence he has to support his outlandish story is highly advanced physics equations burned into his memory about navigating space-time, videos of ghostly intruders into his house, corroborative testimony to abduction events, medical examinations of strange scarring that turn up no probable cause, and a photo of his “alien daughter” which was viewed by dozens of people before it disappeared from his camera as they all looked on. What a prankster, this guy!

Stan never had any asteroidal chips inserted into him; but his unearthly hosts did leave peculiar marks on his body from time to time, it seems, and also took a keen interest in breeding hybrid humans from him (hence the daughter). I can’t for the life of me, and with the best of wills to bear out Romanek, think why they should do this. What do you do with a half-human whose immense almond eyes and pixie stature give it away as something bizarrely different—something beyond a mutation? You can’t very well seed the human population with such leprechauns and expect to take anyone but a college professor by surprise. Why not, if you’re an alien traveler, just put in an appearance yourself, like Michael Rennie in The Day the Earth Stood Still (the original version, made before our race began to degenerate precipitously by interbreeding with computers)?

Be that as it may, Romanek’s easy recitation of equations which perhaps a dozen people on earth understand—and among whom he most definitely cannot be numbered—inclines me to believe at least some of his story. Then, too, there’s his recent arrest for possessing child porn on his personal computer. Turns out that the NSA is fast developing an m.o. for uploading forbidden porn onto targeted computers and then sending agents to take the owners out of circulation. Most effective—for who would want to plead the case of a creep or a pedophile? If there are NSA fingerprints on any part of this man’s story, then the eagerness to shut him up virtually proves that he has something embarrassingly true to say.

And back to the implanted chips: who would have access to asteroid fragments? Aliens, I suppose… and also anyone who could pilfer some of the harvest of NASA’s exploratory flights.

Who manufactured the circumstances behind the Gulf of Tonkin Resolution? Who once drafted plans to stage a bloody attack on Miami as a pretext to invade Cuba? Whose response to petitions for the whole truth about 9/11 is to ridicule and defame the petitioners? Who switched our astronauts to a private radio frequency whenever they started to remark the presence of inexplicable phenomena on and around the Moon? Who has so mastered Soviet technique of dezinformatsiya that unimpeachable testimony about UFO activity is hopelessly compromised by sensationalist folderol (such as endless sloppy TV documentaries)?

Who would profit from having a convenient “panic” button to push or a source of popular hysteria to rev up as an occasion to declare martial law? Who could pump victims with hallucinogens (perhaps only those with certain blood types) and then parade robots or dwarves in costumes before them?

Who demands to know your income, requires you to have insurance, would like to mandate your having yearly flu shots, exacts a whole battery of inoculations of your children before they may attend mandatory schooling, aspires to confiscate your firearms “for your own good”, monitors your drinking water so that it’s as salubrious as the crystal effluvient of Flint (Michigan) taps, and increasingly governs the news you see on the Net and over TV and radio?

Gee… I just don’t know who that might be. Do you?


The Scriptwriters of Alien Abductions: Dare We Name Them? (Part One)

I am NOT a believer in alien abductions. At least I don’t think so—not in most cases.   But the reports of abductees, as a psychological phenomenon, should not all be dismissed out of hand as pranks. Some of them, indeed, may indicate a critically worrisome situation.

My information has been gleaned mostly from a few televised documentaries, all of which chose to accept alien abduction at face value… and why not? The thesis is sensational, and is assured of drawing far more viewers than a debunking approach would do. Yet this robotically minded, “toggle on/toggle off” attitude that we seem to take ever more frequently to complex matters is rarely profitable with regard to finding truth. I don’t think abduction is an either/or proposition: EITHER aliens are zapping people up from their beds into spacecraft OR the whole thing is idiotic hoaxing. What most bothers me in many instances, really, is that there’s too much evidence. I’ll have to wrap up that thought in Part Two, so please hang onto it.

Dr. David Jacobs of Temple University was utterly skeptical when he began interviewing alleged abductees for his research about two decades ago. He found so much resonance in the narratives he collected, however, and so little evidence of lying in his informants’ body language and personal histories that he began to change his mind. These people at least believed that they had been abducted. That many possessed an Rh-negative blood type and green or hazel eyes (both genetic mutations, technically speaking) also lent a certain objective plausibility to the phenomenon, if the reasons for such physiological connections remained completely in the dark.

At some point beyond Dr. Jacobs’ studies, however, the testimony becomes curiously melodramatic—and even within his studies. Abductees see human hybrids percolating away in the spacecraft like pickles in jars of brine. Okay… and why, then, would aliens need to devote valuable square footage of their ships to quasi-humans that they plan to infuse into our population as “sleepers”? Why wouldn’t they have an earthbound-bound laboratory in some utterly deserted, neglected, and hostile location… say, Detroit? Or why wouldn’t they construct and release the zombies one by one? And why would they need to infiltrate Earth’s populace in this manner, to begin with? If they can already shoot across our galaxy and whiz rings around our fastest jets, why do they need to go James Bond?

The abductees repeatedly told Jacobs that their private parts had been probed by the naughty Grays. Why? Has this incredibly advanced race not figured out yet where babies come from? And why would thousands of subjects have to be so probed to provide a solution? Should we be calling Sirius the Pervert Star?

Hard evidence has been produced independently of interviews conducted by professionals like Jacobs. Take the small chips extracted from just beneath the epidermis of many abductees: the material appears to be unearthly, as if taken from an asteroid. Okay… so why would aliens insert bits of asteroid into their house guests? To track their movements? Aren’t they already doing that, inasmuch as they’re plucking the victims right out of bed? Can’t the small army of alien sleepers among us keep a sufficient eye on things? And why, if the chips are essential to the Grand Plan, would they be lodged in easily discoverable spots and in a way that creates attention-drawing skin irritation? If the objective were to have them discovered, removed, and then identified as asteroidal fragments, then the strategy has been a complete success. Hold that thought, as well.

I have seen arguments made that the Heaven’s Gate cult and a particular suicide case where a huge arsenal of guns was involved were the fruit of alien brainwashing. Great. Now we have aliens not just sending 007 among us, but the Mechanic and the Terminator. Again, why would a civilization that can zip through the space-time continuum need to plan out a bloody subversion of terrestrial chimps in clothes? And if the whole operation is covert, why return abductees with bizarre marks all over their bodies and—along the way—cut tongues, eyes, and uteruses out of livestock with lasers? Are these geniuses in crime just a little dense, maybe, when it comes to not leaving clues?