Another Day in the Maelström

“And all this time,

in travail, sobbing, gaining on the current,

we rowed into the strait—Skylla to port

and on our starboard beam Kharybdis, dire

gorge of the salt sea tide. By heaven! when she

vomited, all the sea was like a cauldron

seething over intense fire, when the mixture

suddenly heaves and rises.

 

The shot spume

soared to the landside heights, and fell like rain.

But when she swallowed the sea water down

we saw the funnel of the maelstrom, heard

the rock bellowing all around, and dark

sand raged on the bottom far below.

My men all blanched against the gloom, our eyes

were fixed upon that yawning mouth in fear

of being devoured.”

(THE ODYSSEY by Homer;  Translated by Robert Fitzgerald;  Book Twelve, lines 280 – 290)

 

 “In five minutes the whole sea, as far as Vurrgh, was lashed into ungovernable fury; but it was between Moskoe and the coast that the main uproar held its sway. Here the vast bed of the waters, seamed and scarred into a thousand conflicting channels, burst suddenly into phrensied convulsion — heaving, boiling, hissing — gyrating in gigantic and innumerable vortices, and all whirling and plunging on to the eastward with a rapidity which water never elsewhere assumes except in precipitous descents.

  In a few minutes more, there came over the scene another radical alteration. The general surface grew somewhat more smooth, and the whirlpools, one by one, disappeared, while prodigious streaks of foam became apparent where none had been seen before. These streaks, at length, spreading out to a great distance, and entering into combination, took unto themselves the gyratory motion of the subsided vortices, and seemed to form the germ of another more vast. Suddenly — very suddenly — this assumed a distinct and definite existence, in a circle of more than a mile in diameter. The edge of the whirl was represented by a broad belt of gleaming spray ;  but no particle of this slipped into the mouth of the terrific funnel, whose interior, as far as the eye could fathom it, was a smooth, shining, and jet-black wall of water, inclined to the horizon at an angle of some forty-five degrees, speeding dizzily round and round with a swaying and sweltering motion, and sending forth to the winds an appalling voice, half shriek, half roar, such as not even the mighty cataract of Niagara ever lifts up in its agony to Heaven.

    The mountain trembled to its very base, and the rock rocked. I threw myself upon my face, and clung to the scant herbage in an excess of nervous agitation.

    “This,” said I at length, to the old man — “this can be nothing else than the great whirlpool of the Maelström.””

(A Descent Into The Maelstrom by Edgar Allan Poe)

 

The folks in the dissident right and more and more even normies like myself talk about the chaotic world that the Left has generated as Clown World or The Narrative or whatever term of unreality we can summon to describe this never-ending crisis that they’ve created and we live in.  And it is this.  It is a vertigo inducing environment that just keeps getting weirder and weirder and worse and worse.  Logically I know that there will be a bottom but what I haven’t thought too much about is how bad that bottom will be.  But I ‘ve been starting to do just that.  I look at the players that have been creating these conditions and I think they are willing to go a lot further with this stuff.

Back at the end of Obama’s second term he organized the beginning of BLM by instructing the Justice Department to both intimidate city police forces and empower street thugs by selectively enforcing federal laws.  Four years later we had the George Floyd riots as the next larger wave of this kind of federally sponsored street violence.  My guess is that the next wave will occur after the mid-term elections.  And I don’t think it matters whether the Democrats or the Republicans win.  Biden or Harris’s Justice Department will still be calling the shots and they will be looking to beat down the people living within their power.  One caveat, it’s possible it won’t wait for the end of 2022.  If Biden continues to lose power and fails to move his legislative objectives, I could see the powers that be deciding to flex their muscles sooner.

The question then is how bad could that get?  What I’m thinking is that street violence will be used as an excuse to push those stalled objectives.  They’ll use it to get slavery reparations, redistribution through confiscation of 401K accounts and other outrages.  They also want to pack the Supreme Court to allow some extremely unconstitutional actions.  Those probably include gun seizure and curtailment of freedom of speech.

Am I painting an overly grim picture?  Maybe.  But I no longer think of any of these things as unthinkable.  The people in Obama’s circle are as revolutionary as Lenin or Stalin were.  And a lot of the Republicans are less than impressive.  So far, no heroes have emerged to push back against the coordinated strength of the Left.  If our enemies hadn’t become so transparently devoted to destroying our world it would be even harder to rally the Right.  Very few useful people can have missed what’s going on.  But that being said our backs are pretty tightly up against the wall.  There is precious little time to reverse these things.  If we don’t change course, we will hit bottom.  And after that there won’t be much left.

And that’s the metaphor of the maelström.  If you get sucked down into Charybdis and dragged across the rocks on the bottom there won’t be much left.  It would be better to steer toward Scylla.  She’ll take a few lives but the ship will survive.  I’ll leave it to the readers to figure which course of ours is which.

A Bonfire of COVID Masks

We are a week into the middle of winter and with the recent cold snap and with the snow that will be falling today and tomorrow I’m falling back into the New England mid-winter trance.  Luckily without my typical commute a lot of the wear and tear on my body and mind are reduced to a reasonable level.  In the past I would have to get up at 5 am and clear the snow for two hours before commuting to work and then drive home and still having to clear the rest of it in the dark before collapsing into bed.  Now with my new and improved lifestyle I get up at 7 am, eat breakfast, play blocks with my granddaughter for a little while then leisurely and efficiently go out and clear the snow once it stops falling.  I’ll probably break it up into two sessions with a meal in between to relieve the monotony and warm my old bones.  Camera Girl has made a really excellent Chicken Butter Nut Squash Soup so I’ll be properly fortified for the second half of the operation.

In my less demanding routine I have the chance to reflect on the unfortunate aspects of this new world that we live in.  Here we are almost a year into this absurd lockdown and most people in New England really believe that we are in the midst of the bubonic plague.  I half expect to see the cartman leading his pony around with the pile of cadavers shouting, “bring out your dead.”  The local tv coverage and the attitude of the people you meet when you do go out is that we are all struggling against unbelievable odds to survive the ravages of the Andromeda Strain.  Apparently, we’re all heroes now.  It sounds like the nonsense the Soviets used to spout every time the tractor factory came close to meeting the quota.  “All hail the revolutionary fervor of Assembly Line B Night Shift!”    When a country that did nothing about the virus like Sweden has, after a year, a slightly lower per capita death rate than a country like America, that threw all its small businesses off a cliff, you have to wonder just how detached from reality people are.

Based on the fact that California and New York are beginning to loosen the restrictions on such dangerous activities as opening your front door and breathing in the shower I am hopeful that by the end of winter we will at least be allowed to visit friends and relatives without the neighbors calling in a SWAT Team on us.  And that will be big.  I found that not seeing my various family members was the worst part of this travesty.  And not just family.  I have friends that I am dying to see face to face and share a burger and shoot the breeze with.  This lockdown is harming us physically.  It’s harming us mentally and it’s harming us spiritually.  As I’ve mentioned I’m reading Solzhenitsyn’s Gulag Archipelago.  And compared to the atrocities the Soviets perpetrated on their people even the lockdown is minor.  But it is related to what they did.  It is psychological warfare aimed at damaging people’s self-respect.  We’re caged animals and they ratchet the punishment up and down just to torture us.

So the cold weather is a perfect symbol of the Gulag that has been built for all of us living in the blue states.  Maybe now that Dementia Joe has been nailed up on his scarecrow pole in front of the White House they’ll let us free.  Or maybe they won’t.

I have one exceptionally cynical old friend who claims that we right wing folk are just sheep and no matter how much abuse is heaped on us we’ll just continue to take it without doing anything more forceful than complain.  He thinks that anything that’s going to happen will have to happen in a red state and even that will be in the nature of orderly and peaceable action.  I’m of a different opinion.  Even in the bluest of blue states, I think a point will be reached where people will revolt against this abuse.  Somewhere a spark will ignite the tinder and a crowd will start a bonfire of these stupid masks and put an end to this idiocy.  And I hope I happen to be nearby to join in.