D.L. Crumpton: Caucus? Well Caucu!Submitted by zeninthecar on Fri, 03/23/2012 - 08:01
This one goes out to the ones I love. Guess what ringtone I got as my main right now? Go on guess. No? The 007 theme that’s what. Who hasn’t done that; who hasn’t hummed the James Bond theme song while stealthily skipping down the hall of a hotel at three A.M. in the morning to get a soda from the vending machine? No one. That’s who. You have, I have, and face it because your parents did too. Its cool right? It's cool to wanna waltz into a room with two beautiful women on each side where some earth shaking, plot making, espionage type things are going on. Unfortunately most of you will never be able to do that because you still have your apathy hat on.
I walk into the County Republican Mass Precinct Meeting. I’m there as a shark just waiting for the slightest pin-prickity of a pin prick of blood in the water. Hadn't quite gotten over that super Tuesday sting. Chip on the old shoulder just waiting to be knocked over the line in the sand I drew bout fifteen feet back. Now I understand the side of the Ron Paul movement that wants to compromise with the old guard, maybe let bygones be bygones and play nice with one another. The last time that happened the Tea Party was sucked right back into the belly of the beast so for me and my house I don’t think that’s the wisest courses of action. Not that we aren't still united in the direction of liberty, just a minor disagreement. I was simply raised with the philosophy of you’ve got the be the firstest with the mostest. In my opinion the liberty movement needs to make a break hard right and run towards the goal full steam knocking down every structure in front of them which exist to simply prop up the ever expanding tarantula of a federal government. But that’s me.
I just don’t see why we would want to dine with the devil with such a short fork. These people are like really old vampires who don’t want to suck our blood they want to suck our votes and absorb our numbers so they can spit out the bone of our ideals. These cronies running the Republican party look at you kind of like a child molester and that’s not much of an exaggeration. I mean I can see them sitting in the driver's seat of a Lincoln with the door open and open hand extended filled with special candy. That’s a ride you don’t want to take. They take you to bad places. Scary places. Places where you have to always do the lesser of two evil thing. Neither evil is not evil.
So once in the door I wade into a sea of smiling faces. Smiling shark like faces. Sharks with daggers and special candy in their fin. Guess we’re all just a school of sharks in this room. Only with the nod of a head from anyone under thirty would you know that the Paul Bots had infiltrated this shin dig like fluid oil seeping into every crevice of every cog in the machinery of a terrifying behemoth know as the neoconservative republican party. Everything starts out pleasant but like a duck whose glide is on the surface graceful; underneath that thing is brewing up a storm of uspeakables. The unexpected swell of bodies in this little meeting one by one go to have their names checked off the roll and get their super special kids club membership badge. Then a mad dash to the coffee and doughnuts. I don’t even eat doughnuts and I dashed because I just want to eat the republican party’s doughnut so, so bad. Red and I try to act casual with our little styrofoam cups in one hand and our dixie plate in the other with aforementioned doughnut snugly on top. We’re not casual though. We’re only acting casual because what we are really doing is scoping this joint out. We are eyeballing for anyone with and ‘END THE FED’ button or a ‘Don’t Tread on Me’ meanie snake ready to strike.
After a one over we turn in our paypaz and mingle for a moment with other subversives who we know for sure are on our side. Once the meeting is called into session everything was still all smiles and to the uninformed it would appear as if that would not change. To them it would seem this would be a quick in and out. Oh…the uninformed were in for a real bottom of the cereal box treat and I’m not talking about the one’s you have to cut off the box and put together. No sir I speak of the ones you use to race your siblings to the bottom of the sugary, chemical filled, breakfast supplement box in order to claim it as your own. From this point on I’m going from memory and have only that to rely on as to what transpired so I apologize beforehand if any of my exact exactments turns out to be not exactly precise.
We are all nicely planted in our seats which are gloriously adorned with printer paper dressed in district numbers affixed carefully with dull, scotch tape. The chairmen steps forward and calls it a match. Now as the nominating committee diligently works hard in the back to prepare a slate that will make the nice little Paul bots happy, those of us in the hall are in for a geriatric talent show of epic proportions for the next two hours. The good old “anybody but Obama” pep talk was rattled off from local republican movers and shakers and for the most part we kept our chins in the upright and locked position. We all know what ginsu knife suicide theology that really is. The chairmen kept stalling as it became glaringly obvious that the nominating committee was having quite a difficult time figuring out how they were gonna manage to get their slates through without awaking the terrible dragon. Complaints of having to be out of the building by noon or additional charges to ze partee would result was quite the sleight of hand to put a sense of urgency in the crowd. We’ve got to get this thing wrapped up now, we’ve got to move along because there is nothing to see. Let’s just not pay the slates to much attention here so we can hustle on out.
This one was coming to the wire. Just a clean shave after twelve the head of the nominating committee came out and as she rattled off the names from the slate my spidey sense kicked in. Yes I have a spidey sense. Everything gets all slow around me and I can see the preconcussion wave of the waste about to engage the rotating blades of the cooling device. I can hear in the whistle of the tea pot a symphony of utterances from a people that have been pushed to Picard’s line and will not be pushed further. Then this mild mannered looking guy stands up and my spidey sense flips to my matrix bullet time vision showing me every pacemaker in the room skipping a cycle or two.
This guy’s name was Kevin and though he is mild mannered to look at you have to understand that that’s the best way to be when you’re a stone cold killer. I’m not pulling an appendage here, this guy is like Dr. Hannibal Lecter with a Ron Paul bumper sticker on his medical kit. He stands up, he starts swiping out some Robert’s Rules and has every cancer spot in the room thrown his way as all heads whip to his general direction. Want to know how many beads of sweat was on this guy’s brow? None because I already told you he’s like Hannibal Lecter, in fact if anyone who knows him happens to read this you are no longer permitted to address him by his Christian name rather you shall only refer to him as Dr. Hannibal Lecter.
Where was I? Oh, yes. The mass precinct meeting was playing out like it was being scored by one of those really great RADIOHEAD songs that starts off slow and melodic then flies into a crescendo of musical anarchy. As a matter of fact while I write this prose I am listening to ‘The Daily Mail’ repeatedly just to be able to capture the mood because truly that’s what it felt like. Right when this stone cold Kevin, the Roberts rules killa, rose to his feet the drums started beating, the bass started thumping, and Thom Yorke started to wail his intestines out.
You see, this guy was running the numbers on this slate thing. He knew that we had the most bodies in the room therefore the most votes. He knew that if the slate was a little less than proportional to the ratio of factions within the room, he could pull an NBA jam and slam dunk some of our own folks down their basket of limbaology. The question was; would he pull the trigger? Would he challenge the slate presented before us and send this thing into overdrive? Dualistically the answer is no. He would not pull the trigger because everyone knows that serial killers like this Kevin guy, aren’t really considered a bona fide serial killer if they use a gun. Kevin? Rest assured, the boys bona fide. He needs no boom stick, he has a scalpel. A razor sharp scalpel that can cut through all the red tape that’s about to be thrown at him, though this scalpel is special; this scalpel you can’t see because it’s in this guy’s head in the form of a type of biological, antikythera mechanism far beyond the technology of anything in its time or otherwise known as this guys mind.
The scalpel is flicked, and our stone cold killer gets the ball a rollin’ in the direction of ensuring more Paul bots are slammed into the slate. Now for the next hour or so would be a fiery lock of the bull horns between the dedicated, due paying, sign waving, lobbyist pandering, old guard republicans and the new, fresh faced, young, energetic, passionate, young, liberty minded, educated, young, young and young Ron Paul infiltrators.
Tempers flare over the audacity of “US PEOPLE” coming in all of a sudden, out of the political woodworks hell bent on putting an end to all their warmongering, government growing, right stripping fun. Why can’t we just shut up and take a big slice of the status quo pie? Why can’t we be “realistic “and accept that the republican party would be thrusting itself on its own sword if they allowed Ron Paul to be the nominee? Look we’ve paid our dues, we’ve nestled our noses in places most unseemly in order to get where we are and by osh kosh ba gosh this is our last chance to become delegates and it’s not fair. It’s just not fair.
Look, I know I’m hitting this old thing pretty hard but you have to believe me when I say it’s nothing against old people, some of my favorite people are old. But what am I doing here?
I’m using words in such a way that images will appear in your mind, if only for a flash, which will somehow convey the emotion I desire you to feel at any given moment. I call it visuwords. Now what that means is that when I describe these movers and shakers in the party in a senior citizen type way, all I’m really doing is giving you the imagery of the current ideology and direction of the party. Its old. Its feeble. It can get touchy when bath time comes around and often forgets things that happened not too awful long ago. I in no way am stating my usage of the ‘old’ terminology is positively indicating that these people are of a certain age group, rather it is intended to be taken in more of a metaphorical way. But in case you were wondering let me put it to you this way; if the tapioca pudding isn’t served just right and right on time you’re in for a stampede of walkers and tennis balls my friend.
In the midst of the throw down the chap behind my right shoulder stands up and boy does he looked pissed. Seen this guy before, never caught his name unfortunately, but won’t make that mistake in the future. This gent looks to be arounds about the same age as me which just so happens to be getting younger and younger every year, and though I don’t know beyond a shadow of a doubt, my previously discussed spidey sense tells me this guy is a veteran. I get the strong impression this young man signed up some time ago to defend his country as a patriot and to defend the constitution he swore an oath to protect only to discover once on foreign soil that the wool had been pulled over his eyes and this…this…this is not what he signed up for. Therefore I think we can allow him a little brevity to be a witches boiling brew of pissed in light of the complete and total disregard and dismissive attitude towards his service because he happens to be a Ron Paul supporter while seeking representation at his local mass meeting.
When he stands up to address the chairmen and call the old guard to the carpet by pointing out that ‘dues paying’ republicans who weren’t even present at the meeting were picked as delegates whilst his entire precinct was left a void of representation by having no one from among their ranks numbered, this man’s thunderous pissed offedness still seems to be under restraint by he who harnesses its magnitude. His face told that he was holding much more in and what we were being served up was merely the tip of a much colder, much bigger, much harder iceberg just beneath the squall. This is a man you don’t want to step in the ring with because though he’s short and white you can tell by the beaming rays of unction coming from this dude’s eyes that by the end of the tussle its him that’s getting the slo motion exit and you that gets the cheesy "Punisher" movie.
As chaos continues from votes being fought tooth and nail, obvious miss rulings by the chairmen resulting in division and a near committee member diabetic dodge, there is one voice which rises with an olive branch extended to both sides. Her name is Valerie and she reminds me a lot of Captain Kathryn Janeway from Voyager; only she doesn’t have an Intrepid class starship and she’s a much snazzier dresser. If there’s anything I do know about this lassie though it’s this; if she did have an Intrepid class starship she’d put a Ron Paul sticker on the back of it. Some people of a distorted persuasion in the area of courting inflatable counterparts and I’m not implying that’s the case with Val but what I would like to propose is that in the realm of possibilities; in the event that she did have that persuasion she would have an inflatable Ron Paul but all they would do is cuddle. Maybe eat some Hagen Daz on a cloudy day and stay inside watching reruns of ‘West Wing’ or something or other. Let me scribble it in this fashion so you may better understand the dedication this woman has when it comes to the ideas that Ron Paul stands for when I say that if Kevin had indeed been some sort of serial killer, flipped out and nicked Valerie, instead of yelling “Ouch” she would without a kneejerk pause yell “End the Fed”.
Valerie puts her federal reserve notes where her mouth is. This chick actually infected the ze local partee and has been building a base from the inside since the last time we and Ron Paul danced this waltz. I can only imagine how she endured the disingenuous smiles, shakes of the hand and pats on the back at the monthly eat ins from the sagging stalwarts now attempting to spit in the face of what she has heavily helped to build. Yet there she stands in the gap doing the best she can to attempt for both sides to come to a reasonable conclusion and callin’ em as she’s seein’ em. Then the unthinkable happens which makes this little lady roar with her still, small voice in utter disgust.
Kevin, the perpetual thorn in the side of your depends, had rustled up the chairmen something fierce, something to the point of making the poor man do a mix between a mister bojangles of rage and a Jack the pumpkin king impression, and Jack’s on fire. Thought his little head was going to wobble right off I did.
The chairmen pointed his finger towards the bothersome little Paul bot whose ratio of piss and vinegar was way in the favor of piss and advised him to “Sit down and Shut Up!”…..….the room was nothing but ‘Puss N Boots’ ooooohh kitties. Yup, the no pun intended cat was out of the bag. The republican senior discounted did want us in the room, they just wanted us to be in the room very, very quietly. Not even a one foot voice. Well Valerie would have none of it and used her big girl voice to let them know how unacceptable it was, all the while the dude in the corner (Ron Paul supporter) who happened to catch the chairmen flip his Centrum Silver on camera, was soon hovered over by the handy dandy police officer just trying to keep the peace and escorted out of the building. Then it was speech time and this round little grey haired man that had been fumbling with his belongings the entire time in the similitude of the skipper from “Gilligan’s Island” took the floor in a pacing, heartfelt tirade on how we all needed to stop fighting with one another and kum by yah all the way to facing off Obama with a limp one in the wrist, whatever that means.
Not content to be tussled to the floor by a man under the impression this was some type of Shakespearean speech tryout, Kevin bypasses his teary eyed warnings of Obama turning us into a communist nation with a cut right back to the heart of the matter. The main bone of contention that those who formally held the reins against us was allegedly that they had been loyal to the party for years therefore should get first pickins’ when it came to delegate slots. Kevin breaks it down into bite size kibbles and bits for them letting them know that he understands why that would seem to make a lot of sense and why they would want to do that, but surely they should see that such one sidedness is a deterrent to newcomers who have yet to prove their loyalty to the party. Then just to add an extra bitch slap he cites the party rules which so much as state the flower bed that had just blossomed from his mouth. The chairmen attempts to poke holes through the ironclad Paul Bot mentality of being right is more important than being experienced and compares this whole thing to going to have surgery. Would you rather have an experienced brain surgeon or his brand new intern? Well mister chairmen the answer is that the hypothetical brain surgeon has the wrong diagnosis which will lead to us ending up amputees, so honestly we would rather go with the intern that at least knows what the problem is. He tries to pull the “you guys wouldn’t know what to do at the next convention if you got there” routine completely ignoring the fact that the reason this meeting is running way past twelve and motions, points of discussion, and demands for division are being tossed out left and right is because we know exactly what we are doing.
The next words out of his mouth are nothing less than a slight crack in the Pandora’s box of his feelings as he tries to lull us to sleep with the lullaby of how they want us to be a part of this but that they think it best to guide us along, show us the ropes, show us how to vote, what to think, what wins elections and all the other neat tricks that at last check gave us John McCain. Having already denigrated our good chap, Kevin, several times already he attempts a sooth of the wounds and begs Kevin and all those like him to simply “come along” and stop this foolishness of changing anything.
At this point I had witnessed Kevin charge the field first, Valerie flank right, these two awesome vets behind me flank left, a housewife blow the horns of war with her kick ass credentials of being an educated woman by goodly two shoes. I’d watched as the guy who recruited me into all this four years ago, Brian, like a pimp stand up completely towering over everyone in the room, throw down four hundred feddies so we could stay in the joint longer and so the wrinkle league would shut the hell up about it already. Mine eyes beheld the old guard pull a ‘Hatch’s Law’ in attempt to shut out active duty military from even being eligible to serve as delegates only to be kung fu’ed out of the room by Jarrett, this cybernetic samurai who without flinching lets his fingers do the googling only to have the actual text of the law within interdimensional nanoseconds. He stands, cites the law which is a far stretch from the interpretation of the chairmen, fights the “Sorry I smeared your butter on the wrong side of the toast” smile and simply sits like chief sitting bull concluding a negotiation that was all in his favor and best you be on your way now. At this juncture I would not have suspected that another could rise whose shadow was tall enough to cool a warm valley until this Heath fellow rose to interject.
This guy should have had a pulpit slammed right in front of him the second he got to his feet because this man was nothing less than a fire and brimstone preacher of the Truth. First thing I said to myself when he became a shining city on a hill was “Yeah…this guys packing heat.” I almost thought we were going to pass a collection plate around as Heath book, chapter and versed the old guard with a healthy portion of the gospel of liberty by breaking down that their point of us not knowing what we were doing was moot because ole Kevin over there appears to be doing this thing by the book…with a smile…a calm, cool, collected serial killer smile. This neo-John the Baptist erupts with righteous indignation towards the chairmen letting him know that it has not gone unnoticed that his “seasoned wisdom” that only wants to show us the way has only reacted to Kevin and his ilk with nothing but spurious venom since this whole thing began which not only was uncalled for but evidence that the ones having trouble understanding the rules and the point of this whole process was in fact the high pants club. All I’ve got to say about Heath after his echo of the original Baptist gangsters that made up a large chunk of the first revolutionary black robe brigade that gave us the first amendment is to steer clear of young, curvaceous ladies hauling chargers around.
The old guard pushes back with accusations that they’ve seen this sort of thing before, young insurgents show up only for the convention to attempt a hijack and then they are never heard from again, so why should we be appointed in light of that? Is it really a hijacking if you’re trying to get the wheel from a drunken granny, though? I don’t know just think about it. So Neo-John spins that top the other way around and calls on all us young wipper snappers to pledge not to do this thing today then vanish into thin air for four years, rather become involved and stick with this process all year round. What he’s actually asking us to pledge is to take over the party but you could’ve only heard that if you had your Paul Bot universal code translator activated at the time. See it pays to be a Paul Bot. Do you see Romney supporters hearing Mitty actually say that he’s really Barak Obama wearing a really cheap Halloween shop, Ronald Reagan mask? No, you bet your magic underoos you don’t. Then what I had suspected would inevitably happen, did happen. I hate to do this I really do because in writing this I had the highest of hopes that it would be a piece that does nothing but emphasize how victorious we are becoming and how victorious we are already, so as much as it pains me I’m going to have to waft down from my cloud of complimenitive platitudes and get a little snarky for a minute. Beg thy pardon.
As I have laid bare before thee many times hence, I believe in universal duality. I believe that there is certainly a negative/positive, good/evil dichotomy intrinsic to the world in which we live. I think that most of the time we become confused on which one is which due to the wretched ball and chain around our ankles known as culture. We are conditioned to view the world from the point of view of all those who have come before us in our particular people groups and it is the blinders of culture that keep us from being able to take a few steps back and actually look at this whole picture with perspective. Even for those of us who know this truth, actually doing it can still be tricky sometimes. When you do though, you might see that you have more in common with those labeled your enemy than those labeled your friend. I digress. Long and the short of it is this; where there is a positive pushing in one direction you can be pinky sworn to the fact that there is a negative challenging its progress. Regardless of good intent or no, where there is sound logic it will be opposed by logic most flawed. Where there is common sense common fiat will ever be present. Where there is an educated point of view it is guaranteed to be stridden along side of by a point of view fractured by that culture we were just talking about. Now let me illustrate the case in point with this douche wad that was sitting a few seats down from me.
First let me paint the visual, I think that’s effective. Do you remember the first victim from the movie “Seven”? The one who met his untimely demise by way of spaghetti sauce. Okay now that you have that in your mind imagine he lived, went on the Jared diet for maybe two weeks, put on a sweater vest, developed a weird Canadian\Yankee hybrid accent and then became a mormon. This is the guy sitting in my precinct and I’m sorry and honestly don’t mean to come off as being shallow and hurtful but I am simply of the opinion that because a person doesn’t know that they are complete and utter vestigals of intelligence and purpose doesn’t mean I shouldn’t point it out to them or somehow pretend it isn’t so. Not to mention, you know you dig it.
I’m a watcher you see. I like to watch people and hear them out for a little bit before I decide to interject myself into their thought process. Some are worth it some aren’t. You know what I’m talking about if you’ve ever argued or been in a conversation with someone who despite logic, reason, and wisdom refuse to concede their beliefs. The entire time you’re talking to them you just know that its futile but you keep talking anyway. Well I choose to avoid that headache and make the assessment beforehand because out of the heart of man comes the wind to the flapping lips. Well when this guy sat down at my precinct last go around I had him pegged within just a few minutes, if not the moment I saw his oversized, overinflated, overpriced, over marketed, over the rainbow Mitt Romney badge. The thing was almost the size of his breast which in case you haven’t been following the dots was big. So let me Freud this guy down for you if you’re so inclined to take the scenic route with me.
Probably raised a mormon but definitely a mormon now either way. Kind of started early in life with a little bit of a disadvantage by being big boned (not an excuse for being a douche) and due to that more likely than not became the target of ridicule by those vicious little grade schoolers in his developmental years. Then he, as have we all, reached some apex in his life where the choice had to be made. Do you, in light of your disadvantages become the perpetual victim and allow the unacceptance of the world around you to send you spiraling in a direction which ultimately leads to anger, bitterness, hatred, wrath, and the drive to force others to conform to you by means of force? Or do you simply do as one of the wisest among us said and “Empty your mind. Be formless. Shapeless, like water. Now you put water into a cup, it becomes the cup. You put water into a bottle, it becomes the bottle. If you put water in a tea pot, it becomes the tea pot Now water can flow or water can crash Be water my friend.” This man taught that there is natural instinct and control and both are extremes which cannot be solely depended on, rather both were needed in balance. This is very similar to what I mean when I speak of universal duality though that’s a different date I think. This is a philosophy which allows you to be by way of allowing others to be.
Yeah, well this guy has clearly chosen the dark side of the force and I would bet my bacon taters he’s never seen a Bruce Lee flick. Pretty early on he decided that because people picked on him he must somehow seek out power. Power for what? Well when you aren’t truly happy with who you are as a person because you measure your value as a person by the people around you, then your deepest desire is to pull a “Paint it Black” and make others change who they are to be more of a mirror image of you. I call this self validation and spun that wheel before so back to the point. So our chubby Anakin needed a field and being the high school quarterback was out of the tea leaves. It had to be in the realm of the cerebral, maybe the obtaining of massive amounts of information and gorging them down the throat of your brain only in no philosophical order in which to make any true use of the data. We use to call that a nerd when I was coming up. Well the only fields where nerds can compete are at comic book conventions and politics. True patriots do too, but on the average they try to stay as far away from government as possible until it becomes absolutely necessary for them to rise up, over take and cleanse the temple. As is our time now.
Little porky Anny opted not to chill out as a human being and stop taking things so seriously, going down the road of getting his pound of flesh while in the process convincing himself that his cause is just. You see my fellow pursuers of a harmonious zen state, there is knowledge and there is passion. Both equally dualistic. You can know everything in the world but without passion you will never be able to understand what you know. On the other side you can be passionate with ignorance at which point passion becomes what I phrase anti-passion. Anti-passion and passion are easy to discern from one another. Passion, which is infused with properly perceived knowledge always moves in the direction of freedom, peace and allowance of other human beings. Anti-passion however, always moves in the direction of bringing about peace through intolerant force. That’s the current leadership of the party, and that’s this guy. No doubt he dabbled in a few debate classes and all his friends are careful to avoid topics he might could turn into an argument because they’re sick of hearing him try to impress them with his anti-passionate rhetoric. Never works though because when he’s sitting at the huddle house sipping on a lemon water and he sees his friend pour ketchup on his scrambled eggs he just has to jump in his lap about it by bloviating on why its socially, economically, philosophically and theologically unacceptable to do so in public. Sheesh.
Here he sits thinking after all his life that he was going to come to his virgin meeting and be the bright and shining star, the flame to which the republican moths would flock to in light of his sheer brilliance. All those dreams shattered when the likes of Kevin and the other Paul Bots stole the show. I could hear him clicking his pen the entire time leading up to this moment and judging by the upswing in rapid clicks this Romnoid was punishing his pen with I knew his ego had had just about enough. There was no longer hope of him riding in on his white horse prophecy and being the bestest and the brightest with those in this room while this room was in such sweet chaos.
That’s when the light bulb went off on this guys kolob and he saw an angle from which perchance he could wedge himself into the equation. He rises and addresses the chairmen in effort to bring his brew of sanity to the meeting and the first thing out of this guys mouth is that basically he doesn’t have any idea what he’s talking about. Then he said a bunch of other stuff but quite frankly at that point I started humming “How to disappear Completely” and didn’t waste my brain fat. I apologize for having such a large build up for that and then letting you down but I just had to get that out of my system because I can already tell you that if this Star Wars kid (YouTube it) sticks around ze partee after the election he and I are gonna have a lot of fuuuuuuuuun. At any rate I suppose we might have to settle for isolating the tumor some days rather than removing it completely.
At the end of the day we did pretty good I think. We managed to get most of what we wanted on the first slate and what I might on a sunny day consider a fair compromise on the second but that truly hasn’t been the point of all these words. No what this has been is an attempt to pat those deserving, a pat on the back and to the faint of heart give a message of optimism. Look, I know how bad it is. I know the world seems crazy and only seems to be getting crazier by the nightly news broadcast. I know we have to worry about these insane people who think the Patriot Act and the NDAA are good things wanting to run everything. I know everywhere we liberty minded folk go we always get cheated, slighted and labeled all sorts of elementary school playground tags. I know our country is following the world into an Orwellian nightmare and I know it’s happening fast, but let’s not let that make us lose sight of the truth in all of this. This dualism I always preach about, you see this is it at perfect working order. Tyranny has been allowed to plume up so fast, so far, so quick and its roots of oppression have gotten a deep, deep grip of the infrastructure.
I’m just as infuriated that in our name, soldiers are being used as pawns of war and profit knee deep in the blood of innocent people in lands having no ill will towards us. I’m just as saddened when one of those soldiers can no longer bear the mental assault of what he has been ordered to do and snaps on civilians. I know how disheartened it is to feel that in the midst of all this woe most people are simply too apathetic to expect real changes. One not properly observing would assume the worst and try to cash in their chips but those of us with the pineal gland turned to 11 can see that the opposite side of the scale must now be allowed to push back.
By the looks of what happened at the meeting I was present in I’d say we have a nice little 1776 part two in production here. You see in times of great tyranny we have always believed that titans walked the earth and balance was restored. The last most notable cycle we called them the founding fathers. A group of people as flesh and blood as you and I that simply could no longer quell the spirit of liberty within them and from that point simply did what was rational and true to that spirit. In so doing they changed the course of history forever and for a time had the legacy of having built a country who relished in more freedom than the world has ever known.
Someone I’ve yet to point out and have deliberately done so is the sixty nine year old mom standing beside me who up until this year has never voted once in her entire life. Never been into politics, never really understood the constitution or what it actually said somehow in her gut knew that something in this country, to coin a phrase, is terribly wrong. Not quite sure of everything she’s doing or understanding what all these laws and rules being tossed around her are about, she does concretely know that whatever they mean it is absolutely essential that she be exactly where she is at this moment. She’s registered, she’s voted, she’s been elected a delegate and she’s here to stand when the good guys stand and sit when the bad guys scowl.
When you get some little old lady action like that let me tell you we don’t need a revolution because our revolution is in the oven. They say that titans once walked the earth but if there’s one thing I want you to leave this yarn with its this; titans are walking now.