Reading around the blogosphere I find that even moderate voices are coming around to the realization that they only have three choices, Fold, Flee or Fight. And the top choice this week seems to be flee. What complicates it is the fact that they don’t differentiate fleeing a blue state vs. fleeing the country altogether. And with good reason. No one knows whether heading to a red state is just a very short-term delay in the life sentence that the federal government is declaring against all its enemies. But it is sort of encouraging to see that others are coming to the same conclusions.
What also remains to be seen is if some kind of coordination will be the popular approach. After all there is safety in numbers and if you are planning to uproot your whole life it might be helpful to have a few or a few thousand comrades along to establish a beachhead somewhere and share the expense and risks of starting a new life. I have actually had a number of conversations with folks who are earnestly searching for destinations that won’t treat them like what they are experiencing in the present state of Woke-istan. And they have been looking at ways to band together. If a dozen families buy a big chunk of land, they can each put up a house and still leave a common area for recreation, socializing and community projects of various sorts. These communities are always fraught with the danger that civil strife will show up even in these Gardens of Eden but life is full of trade offs and compared to having a BLM mob heading for your homestead the prospect of battling over the height of your forsythia bushes seems a reasonable risk.
But I am not minimizing the risk and trauma associated with uprooting yourself. Obviously few people will be intentionally heading into the wilderness or the jungle but just moving to a new town is a dislocation. Imagine having to learn a new language and culture. That’s the one I’m chewing over right now. Even moving to a place like Italy, the land of my ancestors, would be a shock. I am an American. I never wanted to even leave this country for work or vacation. It is the world I love and I love what it stood for. Italy is just another strange place where people have a history of being ruled by gangsters. The fact that America has become just another country among the rest of them doesn’t make it any easier to move there. But maybe enough of the good things in the old America has rubbed off on these strange places that they will be good places to live. I’ve been thinking about Hungary and Poland. I don’t know how they’ll feel about me but I’ve heard things about their views on all the social craziness that’s going on and it’s refreshing to hear of places that are saying no to the madness, very refreshing.
Because of family commitments I won’t be moving, even out of state, for at least a year or two. But now is the time to be analyzing information and narrowing the choices to the best options. And there is a lot to do. Selling real estate, moving assets, even learning a language isn’t something you do overnight. Just gathering the information isn’t automatic. What must you know? Who can you trust? Will things change?
But one thing is certain. Flee or fight are the only options for me. Living under these people is death. Death for the soul and the end of all the things that make life precious; family, tradition, pride, freedom. They are the enemy of all of these. Their rotten hive existence is contemptible and their tactics are exactly the gangster model that people fled here from other lands to escape.
Yes, people are waking up and that means there is hope that some of us will be free again someday. Wasting time on winning the mid-terms other than as a way to screw with some of the RINOs that stabbed Donald Trump in the back doesn’t interest me. I’ve seen enough to know they’ll rig whatever elections they need to keep control of the levers of power in Washington. Well, let them for all I care. I just want to escape from under their yoke. Let them live in the hell they’ve assembled. I hope to live to see the day when their rotten anthill collapses under its own filth. The only thing I ask is that me and mine aren’t there when it happens.
As you may know I am a climate heretic. I not so much dismiss global warming as I cheer it on. Living in the frozen hell of New England I look forward to the day when I may roam around my yard in early February in my speedo. Unaccountably my neighbors aren’t as keen on my idea.
Be that as it may, the National Geographic Society contracted with me to fly aerial reconnaissance over the Great Eastern Glacier. Since it is located in my front yard I agreed after the usual haggling over remuneration. Here is that photo.
I marveled at its majesty and after landing on it and planting my flag I flew back to base. Nature is truly humbling to behold.
Later I reconnoitered around the yard to see if anything was stirring. During the week Camera Girl related running into the mallards on the pond and salamanders in her garden mulch but I saw none of these critters. But in one of the gardens that my predecessor planted but that was swallowed up in the bramble area over time a few stray daffodils have already sprouted.
Whereas our planting is still getting started
And the reindeer moss is recovered from its winter funk.
So while I failed to witness the legendary mating ritual of the Southern New England Sasquatch that I had hoped to report on, nevertheless, much was achieved. I was able to obtain measurements that prove categorically that the Great Eastern Glacier is certain to last for at least another 5,000 years. Ice cores taken at a depth of 2.8 miles below the surface show that the legendary Kingdom of the Mole-Men has installed refrigeration equipment that will preclude any loss in glacial volume indefinitely. Based on this data I am planning to construct a saw mill to provided cubed ice for the inhabitants of Papua New Guinea. Since time immemorial the aboriginal highland inhabitants have been forced to drink their traditional summertime beverage mu-ba-bu at ambient temperature which in Papua New Guinea can be north of 110 degrees F. Mu-ba-bu is a variety of fermented human brain fluid. Predictably it has a very limited shelf life at ambient temperatures so access to really good cubed ice will be a revolution for the average Papua New Guinea house wife in regard to making the mu-ba-bu budget stretch.
For Christmas I bought my granddaughter a nice little Yamaha keyboard when she showed interest in music. So far she seems uninterested in even a simple scale on the keys. But I noticed that one of her favorite cartoons, Masha and the Bear had a piano song that she enjoyed. This cartoon about a retired Russian circus bear and a Russian-American Girl both living in Alaska is perhaps the only thing on television for small children that doesn’t enrage me.
To try and interest her in learning I’m trying to teach myself to play the tune on the keyboard to attract her to the instrument.
Progress is slow. I don’t read music fluently so I of course went to the internet for support. This silly little YouTube clip actually helped. I wrote the note letters onto a sheet of paper and bought some stickers for the keys with the letters on them. I have now mastered two thirds of that ditty down below and it has caught her attention. I’m hoping my two year old granddaughter will consider me a modern day but slightly older Mozart and follow my lead. Time will tell.
I posted this as a daily quote back in 2018. But I like it, so I’m posting it again. It speaks to a resiliency in the human soul that I admire. I recently found out that Henley was the inspiration for the Long John Silver character in Treasure Island. Robert Louis Stevenson was another talented character from Victorian England. That they were friends is interesting. I’ll have to do some reading on both of them.
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find me, unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.
This is a WWII submarine story. A submarine commander P.J. Richardson, played by Clark Gable, survives the destruction of his submarine during operations against the Japanese in the Bungo Straits. The Japanese destroyer responsible, called the Akikaze, had previously destroyed at least four submarines and Richardson is determined to have his revenge. Richardson thinks he has figured out how to defeat the Akikaze and he convinces the navy to give him command of another submarine, the Nerka. The Nerka’s executive officer, Lieutenant Jim Bledsoe, played by Burt Lancaster, has been disappointed in not being given the command, but he cooperates with Richardson and acts to convince the crew that the unorthodox and frustrating tactics that the commander puts them through are legitimate.
The commander brings the Nerka into the Bungo Straits and using his knowledge of the Japanese tactics he successfully engages a Japanese destroyer and destroys it. But when he goes after the Akikaze the Japanese seem to know in advance of his presence and the Nerka is nearly destroyed, several men are killed and Richardson is badly injured.
But when Richardson orders Bledsoe to prepare for another attempt to destroy the Akikaze, he relieves Richardson of command based on medical disability and says that he will return the Nerka to base. But Bledsoe changes his mind and attacks and destroys the Akikaze. But during the attack Richardson realizes that the Akikaze was working with a Japanese submarine to destroy American submarines. He alerts Bledsoe and the danger is averted and the Japanese sub is destroyed. But Richardson dies of his injuries and the Nerka buries him at sea.
This is a fairly straight forward war movie. But the principal actors Gable and Lancaster make it a very memorable film. Some of the other actors do a good job. Jack Warden is a veteran actor and is probably the standout among the supporting characters. There is one amusing detail in the ship life. The crew has a pin-up picture of a girl which they each pat on the butt before they go into battle. This amusing and lifelike touch adds obvious interest for the natural audience of this movie. Highly recommended.