Chasing Tyson

Mike Tyson’s story is of a journey from the bottom to the top, and back to the bottom. If you saw one of his later fights–like against Lennox Lewis–you would assume him to be overrated, if not a joke. If you had seen him in action on his way to becoming the youngest heavyweight champion in history, you would realize how far he fell.

HolyfieldbeltsIn the days after Tyson’s one-round knockout of Carl “The Truth” Williams, many a casual sports consumer opined that nobody in the game could beat him. I pointed to a smart, skilled light-heavyweight named Evander Holyfield and told anybody who would listen, “If anybody could do it, he could.”

Unknown to most of us, or at least under-appreciated, Tyson’s personal life was a hot mess at the time and his self-destruction was already underway. In his first fight with Frank Bruno, careful observers noted the cracks appearing in his armor. He was no longer a well-oiled wrecking machine. More like a powerful-but-lazy brawler.

Tyson’s mentor/trainer/father figure, Cus D’Amato, had died. For a while his fighting discipline was maintained by trainer Kevin Rooney, but Tyson fired Rooney and replaced him with a posse of sycophants and Yes Men. His skills diminished and his motivation died. He was ripe for demolition when he arrived in Tokyo for his fateful match against a journeyman heavyweight motivated to give the performance of a lifetime.

It’s tragic that once all that talent was stripped off Tyson (by himself, mostly) there was just an ugly little person underneath. But honestly, that is the case with most celebrities. Our culture tends to worship people with Tier One talent, and/or beauty. But those things are gifts, not some outward manifestation of inner goodness.

Having followed Evander Holyfield from before he moved up to Heavyweight, I recognized him for an exceptional warrior. Even as a light-heavy, he never had the power to match Tyson (very few in history have ever had a punch like Iron Mike did), but he was smart, disciplined, had knockout power…plus miles and miles of heart.

The documentary portrays Holyfield as a disrespected hard luck fighter who struggled to emerge from under Tyson’s shadow. It’s an interesting perspective, new to me, because I recognized Evander’s potential from way back (serious fight fans had watched him since the Olympics).


Holyfield chased a title match against Tyson from when Iron Mike truly was “the baddest man on the planet.” It’s like a tragicomedy how, every time he got close to his goal, fate stepped in to deny him, time and time again.

After a long, winding path to get there, Holyfield finally got his shot. The Tyson he fought was not the fearsome juggernaut of the past, but neither was he the one-diminsional target who faced Lewis and Douglas.

Evander beat him soundly.

Then, in the infamous rematch, Tyson manifested his inner turmoil for the world to see in all its vile ugliness. Instead of channeling his anger into his fists, as Cus D’Amato had taught him, he took the coward’s way out in an unprecedented foul that ended the fight (he tried to bite Holyfield’s ear off).

Because the film maker slanted the history into such a hard luck narrative, I Tysonwildroundhousedisagree with many assessments offered, and am disappointed that many facts are missing or touched on so briefly as to seem irrelevant.

To me, the tragic, hard luck aspect of the whole story is that, because of their performance during the downhill slides of their respective careers, history won’t remember what world-class fighters both of these men once were.


The “Alt Right” and the Biblical Worldview

In the first installment of this series, the left wing was analyzed. It seemed like stating the obvious, but statistics prove otherwise. Then “cuckservatism” (NeoConnery, RINOcery) was held up to biblical standards. A little harder to judge, because the fruits are disguised, and basically the whole “movement” is a huge straw man.

It’s hard to make any definitive judgments about the “alt right” because there would seem to be some diversity of thought among those who self-identify as such. Who knows–there might even be some actual right-wingers among them. But in this post I’m choosing the loudest voices from the “alt right” to represent their movement. The reason why it’s important to examine this movement in this context is that there are self-professed Christians in their ranks.

This also presents a conundrum, because so-many non-Christians (who comprise most of the “alt right,” it would appear) assume that this life is all there is. Capital “S” Salvation is meaningless to them because they assume there is no judgment and hell to be saved from. Christians, however, understand that where you spend the next life is far more important than your notch count, blog traffic, travel resume, book sales, or the money you accumulate in this life. So the average “alt right” denizen judges human worth based on some subjective list of achievements on the way to the grave Physical, tangible, carnal achievements. But one who believes the Bible thinks salvation is the ultimate achievement, followed closely by rewards in the next life for the treasures he has accordingly stored up in Heaven (spiritually speaking) while walking out his faith in this fallen world.

(Just to be clear: salvation is a gift you can’t earn–only accept. This despite my use of the word “achievement.”)

With such a dichotomy of belief within the movement, we can’t exactly compare apples to apples. Hopefully the Christians in the “alt right” at least understand the spiritual concepts above, because that’s Christianity 101. What’s important for a Christian to remember is that God’s standards never even occur to the unbeliever when determining human worth, yet their ungodly attitude, prejudices and reasoning patterns can still influence your thinking if you’re constantly exposed to them. (1 Cor. 15:33)


1. The “Alt Right”:


When it comes to race, these guys don’t so much put forth deep-rooted beliefs of their own they’ve formed and tested, as they seemingly delight in following a script about the Right Wing Boogeyman crafted by the fanatic leftists who have controlled The Narrative for half a century.

Race is more important than any other factor, according to the overt cyber-reasoning of these people. They subscribe to the “Magic DNA” hypothesis, in which predisposition toward political affiliation, (therefore) form of government, and (therefore) human worth depends solely on the genetic trends that determine skin pigmentation, eye color, texture/color of hair, etc. Blacks are relegated to the bottom of the racial hierarchy and are even called “jungle apes” and the like. It is impossible for blacks to be anything but barbarians, or achieve any significant societal advancement, or desire anything other than their own myopic self interests and immediate gratification, because Magic DNA. There is no explanation for men like Ben Carson, for instance. Instead such examples are dismissed with an epithet like “house nigger.”

Conversely, only whites have the potential to significantly advance civilization (though, occasionally, high IQs among Asians are mentioned), or even maintain it. Whites are at the zenith of the racial hierarchy, and the only ones capable of self-rule, because Magic DNA. But among the “alt right” are those who take it much further: being “white” is not enough, but Anglo-Saxon heritage is really the sole genetic determinant of the ability to create, maintain, or salvage Western Civilization.

2. The Bible:

God launched the human race from the seed of a single man, and later funneled it down through a single descendant. Neither the skin color of Adam, nor Noah, is ever mentioned. Skin color is hardly mentioned at all in the Bible, and never as a determinant of human worth. For whatever reason, our Creator chose to use more than one color when designing the human race.

Jesus painted the picture of two paths in life: the wide, easy road to hell, which most of humanity is traveling; and the straight, narrow path to salvation, which few find. (Matt. 7:13-14) What path an individual travels is determined by their choice; not genetics. (Rom. 10:8-13) Jesus commanded His disciples to spread the good news to all humanity; and, in fact, people from “every nation, tribe and tongue” are/will be redeemed from the Earth, and will comprise God’s coming Kingdom. (Rev. 5:9-10)

Sinful man obsesses over outward characteristics, judging human worth based on appearance, accent, vocabulary, etc.–and the “alt right” sees nothing wrong with that; but God examines the inner workings of a person’s soul. (1 Sam. 16:7)

All people have sinned and fallen short of God’s glory (yes, including white Anglo-Saxons). The only DNA that can save you from justice is found in the blood of Jesus.Basic RGB

As for the Anglo-Saxon red herring, it really falls of its own weight when you examine it. Out of one side of the “alt right” mouth comes the assertion that the USA was established to be a white society–that the founding fathers were just as racially motivated as present-day “alt righters;” but further, that even other Europeans (outside England) don’t possess the Magic DNA required to form, preserve, or even appreciate rule of law and a representative government. Germans, specifically, are one of the nationalities listed as lacking this Magic DNA. But out the other side of the “alt right” mouth comes the decree that Anglo-Saxons are uniquely equipped with the Magic DNA necessary to create a constitutional republic such as the one established in North America in the late 18th Century.

Evidently, somebody failed to inform them that the Angles and Saxons were German.

To hear the “alt right” tell the story, you might assume the colonists settled North America in order to escape from savage hordes of “Dindu Nuffins” and establish a racially pure Aryan Empire. (After all–there’s that reference to posterity in America’s founding documents.)

In reality, what motivated the colonists to settle in North America was to escape the unjust rule of other white Europeans and a state-controlled church. They were devout Christians who recognized Christ as the sole mediator and gateway between man and his Creator (John 14:6)–they did not accept as mediator some corrupt bureaucratic hierarchy with its own axe to grind. They wanted freedom–primarily religious freedom. To this day they are still called “pilgrims” (and this historic fact has not been revised away probably because US residents have been dumbed-down to the point that they assume “pilgrim” has no meaning beyond a quaint Dutch fashion design that included buckled shoes and funny hats).

What sparked the Revolution was not some affront to racial pride or “purity” (as if the British have ever had such a thing, even from Roman times). In fact, neither was it the commodities tax on tea. It was an attempt to disarm the American people that triggered the “shot heard round the world.”


1. The “Alt Right”:

That they so proudly place a self-proclaimed dangerous faggot on a pedestal pretty much speaks for itself.
That they so proudly place a self-proclaimed dangerous faggot on a pedestal pretty much speaks for itself.

While they pounce on any opportunity to show contempt toward most of the human beings created in the image of God, regardless of the respective person’s character; they approve and/or fawn over the individuals who practice abominations–especially the Most Favored Perversion of our times. (Rom. 1:24-32)

It says a lot that, when speaking of the victims of the Orlando shooting, Donald Trump used the phrase “wonderful Americans.” He doesn’t speak that way about other victims of terrorism; just homosexuals. To him (or at least to those he’s pandering to), there’s something “wonderful” about homosexuals. They are more wonderful than normal Americans, judging by his words.

The left has been pushing sexual deviancy on the culture relentlessly, and most of the “alt right” has swallowed it whole. Ironic, because this sort of gullibility is what they frequently accuse the cucks of.

2. The Bible:

There is no ambiguity about sexual sins, including sodomy, in the Old or New Testaments. The links/scripture references would take a while to compile, and an honest individual who genuinely wants to know can easily find enough, via simple search, to make God’s position on the matter crystal clear.

Those who would have you believe God is different today from yesterday, (Mal. 3:6; Heb. 13:8) that He must have finally evolved to humanity’s lofty 2016 pinnacle of sophistication, are banking on you never studying the book for yourselves.sodom

Which is an act of love: yanking a careless child out of the path of a speeding truck; or letting the child be smashed into roadkill?

Which is an act of love: warning somebody that they are on the wide path to hell and they need to get off it; or encouraging them to stay on that path as long as they’re getting their jollies there? (And reinforcing the lie that there is “nothing wrong with it” and there will never be consequences.)

Salvation is available to all sinners, but steps to salvation include confession and repentance. When you deny that your perverted lifestyle is wrong,

  1. You are calling God a liar.
  2. You indicate your refusal to either confess or repent.


1. The “Alt Right”:

Not satisfied with cultivating generic racism (a sort of “Affirmative Action” in reverse), many outspoken agitators of the movement pride themselves on how anti-Semitic they can be.

I don’t just mean specific Jew-bashing. I mean the very word “Semitic” is often used to challenge someone’s status as “white” and therefore revoke their claim to the good strand of Magic DNA. That doesn’t just target Jews; it doesn’t just target Hebrews; it doesn’t just target the offspring of Abraham. Anyone descended from Noah’s son Shem is automatically subhuman by virtue of heritage alone–the bad strand of Magic DNA.

muftinazisaluteThat’s a whole lot of people, in case you were wondering. But one person in particular needs to be highlighted here: the God/man Jesus Christ. God chose to redeem the human race garbed in human flesh, but not just any random human flesh. His Jewish pedigree was very carefully established and detailed. (Matt. 1; Luke 3:23-38)

Follow the “alt right” logic through to the end, and Christ Himself is inferior to a white European (especially an Anglo-Saxon!). His life; death; resurrection; witness; character…all of it is meaningless because that Magic DNA makes him the enemy of Western Civilization.

2. The Bible:


There was a time when God set apart one strand of DNA as special, and chose to deal with the entire world through those who shared that common ancestry.

Prepare yourself for a shock, because it wasn’t Anglo-Saxons.

Our Creator chose Abraham and his descendants to bless the world through (Gen. 12:3). For the next two generations, that purpose was narrowed down twice more, through Isaac, then Jacob/Israel.

Two concrete examples of how the world was blessed through that lineage:

  • The Bible.
  • The Messiah (“Christ”).

Is a Jew, Israelite, or other Semitic person, automatically holy due simply to the fact that they were born with a specific DNA? Obviously not–any more than an Anglo-Saxon is. This is a fallacy many Christians fall into: that Israel is magically “good” because of the Abrahamic covenant. In reality, their politicians are just as corrupt as ours; Israelis are just as morally bankrupt, if not more so, than US residents; and they follow the tenets of their religion about as faithfully as the average US citizen practices Christianity. Furthermore, most of them are hostile toward their own Messiah and those who follow Him.

And yet, there is a remnant of Israel that God will redeem (Isaiah 10:20-21; Heb. 8:8-12), even though they are spiritually blind for a while. (Rom. 11)

The Church is not a replacement for Israel, as some would have you believe. There is more overlap than you would suspect (i.e: Christians of Hebrew lineage–like the apostles, disciples, and most of the 1st Century Christians), but the roles and missions of the two entities are different.

Again, those who teach Replacement Theology or any other anti-Semitic doctrines (Rev. 3:9) as Christian either don’t know/believe the Bible, or are calling God a liar.


1. The “Alt Right”:

Most on the “alt right” have little appreciation or affection for the constitutional republic in America, and will tell you as much with no qualms. The only time they ostensibly take a pro-American stance is to try to reinterpret this country as Anglo-Saxia, or some similar Magic DNA argument.

It is “Western Civilization” they pledge allegiance to.

What do they mean by “Western CIvilization?”

Good question. Important question.

Beyond the Magic DNA assumption, I suspect that phrase has a thousand different meanings, depending on who uses it.

Whether it is meant to conjure up Greco-Roman sculpture and architecture; the solidarity (ha!) of the Holy Roman Empire; the chivalry of Medieval times; the art and music of the Napoleonic era; or the technological innovation of the Third Reich, it requires an historic myopia to trade your American birthright for any of that despotic stew.


More than one “alt-righter” has literally voiced their desire for a “god-king” or “god-emperor” (who they currently envision as Donald Trump).

Starting with the Caesars, Western Civilization has seen its share of “god-kings.” But nobody on the alt-right has sold me on the benefits of living in a civilization wherein the word of one man can cause you to be imprisoned, crucified, fed to the lions, drawn and quartered, burned at the stake, tortured to death, sent to the guillotine, or locked in an oven. Frankly, I don’t understand why you would want to be considered guilty until proven innocent; exchange God-given rights, which are inalienable, for government-granted privileges which can be revoked at any time; and where another human determines how you will live your life.

That’s what Western Civilization was, before the United States of America. That’s what the left wants it to be again. And by Odin, as long as the god-emperor is an alpha male with Magic DNA, full speed ahead!

Maybe a couple of the “god-kings” of Western Civilization were as good as many assume President Trump would be. They were the exception, not the rule.

Some seem to recognize the fallacy of a “god-king” like Barack Hussein Obama aspires to be. It’s idiotic to assume it would be any less wrong if only his skin was paler. And, historically, there have been a whole lot more pale-skinned Obama-type rulers in Western Civilization than there have been King Arthurs (or whoever the idyllic god-king is).

Western Civilization has become an idol; and the “alt right” is willing to make a sacrifice (to whatever “god-king” steps up) of our lives, liberty, and property.

2. The Bible:

The First Commandment is for us to have no other “gods” before our Creator God.


The “alt right” ranks Western Civilization of utmost importance, and trusts their desired god-emperor more than they trust our Creator.

That’s a Magic DNA fail right there, since it’s pretty much what those Semitic, Hebraic, non-Western-Civilized Israelites demonstrated (1 Sam. 8:4-20). In America we have no Caesar and no king but Jesus (who we are free to reject, to our own damnation), but the “alt right” would rather be ruled by the creature than the Creator.

At least one book could be written on how political affiliations compare to the Biblical worldview. I encourage the honest reader to research it further on his own, if this post fails to cover the “alt right” in adequate detail.

There will be at least one more post in this series.

Random Musings on Apocalyptic and Post-Apocalyptic Entertainment


TEOTWAWKI or “The End Of The World As We Know It” is a brand which has been traditionally applied to post-apocalyptic movies, games, and books. In such narratives, the story begins AFTER some cataclysmic event has forever altered life on Earth.

SHTF or “Shit Hits The Fan” stories are about, or take place DURING the cataclysmic event. (Most “patriot fiction” fits inside this genre.)

It occurred to me we’ve been throwing everything under the TEOTWAWKI umbrella (including my own latest novel). Because I review so much work in the genre, I have now made a SHTF category and moved all (I hope) the relevant posts into it, for ease and accuracy of navigation.


I’ve been consuming a lot of SHTF and TEOTWAWKI entertainment lately. Recently I’ve tossed two books aside before finishing them. That has prompted me to create a new category called “Pet Peeves,” and this is my first post to be categorized that way.

There are a few different tropes that often annoy me enough to quit watching or reading whatever incorporates them. As regular readers of Virtual Pulp can probably guess, left-wing propaganda is one of them (explaining why I rarely go to movies anymore, and never watch TV). Another nauseating trope is the obligatory “strong female character,” which in action/adventure manifests as the obligatory Amazon Superninja.

Another deal-breaker for me is excessive stupidity, in whatever form. Going back to TEOTWAWKI, this is why I didn’t get very far watching the Jericho series on Netflix. It started out with a lot of promise, but smacked me out of my suspension of disbelief too many times to even be engaged by the point where we discover the EMP was caused by the Right Wing Boogeyman (egads! What a surprise!).

I recently picked up a handful of books on free promotion, for my Kindle. One of them featured a rare (for the SHTF genre) protagonist: an extremely naive civilian suburbanite victim of normalcy bias. I know too many people like this guy in real life (throw a rock in North America, and you’ll hit one), and find them a real challenge to engage with on any meaningful level. Yet, for me, it was a unique storytelling perspective (and perhaps overdue), and I guessed he would have to wise up in order to survive.

The character did show signs of maturing over the course of several chapters, and I gritted my teeth through his Pollyana attitude/reactions. I even held my peace, with an eye-roll or two, at how cash was still accepted after the economy, infrastructure, and even government itself were all rendered moot.

Then I came to a scene in which the protag and his companions are waylayed by literal highway robbers. Our hero is armed. The villains are not. He has some supplies he and his pals will require to survive along their journey. The bad guys want to take it.

So he lets them take it, in an alleged compromise (they won’t rape the girl traveling with him).

You have to wonder why some people even have guns, if they’re unwilling to use them even in matters of survival. The sad part is, this character is all too real, and the “compromise” is too perfect a metaphor for how we’ve allowed our freedoms, our government, and our country to be “compromised” away from us. Real life and its stupid people are more than enough, thank-you. This story and character is too much stupidity for something I read voluntarily and sacrifice time for.


The population has been so relentlessly conditioned that it’s hard to escape from the malignant sodomiphilic echo chamber even in indie fiction.

Another book in the genre was also from a suburbanite perspective. There were some trace amounts of the “all men are rapists” attitude in this one, but it wasn’t so “in your face” as to make it unreadable. I had finished reading about 90% of the book before the author sucker-punched me by revealing a character as homosexual.

The reaction to this by one of the main characters was how all reasonable, “open-minded” people are supposed to react: immediate support, equal or surpassing what a “straight” individual should get. Just in case there are still some dirty brains still out there, the efforts to wash them are ubiquitous and never-ending.

No thanks. Pass. I have no interest in reading the remaining 10%.


This really should have been pondered long ago, but only lately has it really become a point of fascination to me that 95-99% of post-apocalyptic tales depict a journey of the protagonist. Most often, the journey is taken in order to reunite with family.

On the one hand, this makes a lot of sense. When the SHTF a lot of people will be separated from loved ones by varying distances. They’ll be away on a business trip, or at the office, grocery store, etc., when disaster strikes. So it’s a valid plot.

It’s also a grossly overused plot. So overused that I’m now rethinking a few sequels to False Flag, and a zombie parody I had in mind.

That’s all for now. Happy weekend.

Obama Doesn’t Even Know What “Rigged Election” Means!

Because he is so above such sordid affairs of course. Why, his administration is a bastion of honesty, transparency and integrity.


Barack Hussein wouldn’t be in the White House without rigged elections. And massive coverups perpetrated by the lapdog media. And a weaponized welfare state. And generations of dumbing-down the electorate via government schools.

He is a symptom, not the cancer itself.

Don’t imagine for a second the same forces that installed him don’t intend to install Hillary by any means necessary.


My All-American

I’ve been at this point before–where I’m convinced the entertainment industry is incapable of producing any movie other than formulaic pap, recycled vehicles from decades past, chick-flicks (overt or disguised) or “social justice” agitprop. Then I stumble across something like My All-American, and am amazed that something worth watching can still slip through the cracks.

There are only so many plot variations to be utilized in a jock story, so, granted: one can argue that this film should be included in the “formulaic pap” comment I made above. In fact, you might note many similarities between this movie and Rudy and The Express (or, going back farther, to Brian’s Song, or, changing sports, The Natural). Nevertheless, this biopic should be celebrated by red pill masculists everywhere–especially those raising a son, yearning for something worth watching together.

My All-American tells the story of Freddy Steinmark, who was born to play football. Gifted with natural athletic ability, his fatMyAllAmerican1her, while working two jobs to support the family, pushed Freddy to relentlessly expand on his talent with rigorous conditioning. His mother (a stay-at-home mom, it seems) was on-board with her son’s disciplined upbringing, complimenting her husband’s stern agenda with loving encouragement.

That family dynamic may not have been so unusual in the stories of yesteryear, but it is downright alien in the reality of America today.

Not only is the home life of Steinmark idiosyncratic in our present cultural context, but Freddy himself was exceptional, in any time and place. He is the model of what a young man should be–and what most parents would once have aspired to raise. To list his positive qualities would make this post too long, but I’ll list three that would seem to be diametrically opposed in any other film coming out of Homowood, Commiefornia. He is:

  • Forthright
  • Humble
  • Thoroughly masculine

Ah, crap, I have to list a couple more. The Freddy Steinmark of this film shows the guts, determination and toughness that once exemplified the average American male. Considered too small for most college football programs to take him seriously, there is no “quit” in him, and he fights an uphill battle toward a full-ride scholarship with the Texas Longhorns. I should mention here that other players on the team, and the coach, are developed just enough to make me want to read the book for more details. Despite Steinmark being a terror at defensive back, the team was a team, not a one-man-show. I’m thankful for the authenticy of the film’s depiction of how a football team works (or can work, anyway) from the inside.MyAllAmerican

One very interesting subplot depicts the starting quarterback–a phenomenal player with a cannon arm–losing his position to a fourth-stringer with better instincts for reading opposing defenses, and who more readily adapts to the coach’s new “triple option” offensive scheme.

Though he is a devout Catholic, Steinmark’s portrayal (by Finn Wittrock) is a case study in Christian integrity–not the wussified churchianity so en vogue on both sides of the pulpit in pretty much every denomination today. Even the leading lady’s (Sarah Bolger) portrayal is a departure from the obligatory grrrrl power! cliche`s rammed down our collective throats everywhere else. The only time she gets “assertive” with boyfriend Freddy, it is due to genuine concern over his well-being. (Director Angelo Pizzo, however, does overdo it trying to milk our emotions in a few smarmy scenes no doubt included to appeal to the females in the audience.)


I’m not sure how faithful the movie is to the true story of Freddy Steinmark, though it does ring true. In any case, you won’t find many movies made since the early 1960s or so which present unabashed manhood in such a positive light.


How Does the Media Not Choke on Their Own Hypocrisy?

So Hillary and her mouthpieces in and outside the lapdog press have been insisting that there was nothing classified in the emails.

The Trumpenator just made some silly comment (see below) about how if the Russians hacked her private email account, they should “find” the 30,000+ emails (I think what he meant to say was “produce” or “divulge” the emails).

With straight faces, Hillary’s mouthpieces now are accusing Trump of inviting the Russians to collect classified information.

So let me summarize, rhetorically:

MEDIA: “None of Hillary’s lost emails were classified. This is just a witch hunt by the vast right-wing conspiracy.”

TRUMP: “Maybe the Russians can recover those allegedly ‘lost’ emails.”

MEDIA: “Look! Look there, at Trump! See that? He’s giving the Russians permission to hack classified emails!”


This is ridiculously obvious hypocrisy. “Double standard” doesn’t even begin to convey the depravity of their minds. You might think that, when confronted with such a blatant revelation of their own prejudice, there might be some embarrassment, remorse, or (from a moral human being) an apology and self-examination.

But after reading Vox Day’s blog, and his book SJWs Always Lie, one still may not understand why this is so, but one does understand that the lapdog press will never even acknowledge getting caught red-handed. It is because of the relevant “Law:” SJWs Always Double-Down.

I’ll leave it for Vox and his Ilk to pontificate on how much of the media are SJWs (“social justice warriors”) and how many of them are “gamma males” or the female equivalent, and which demographic is more to blame. The Bible has a simplified explanation: They’ve been handed over to delusion because they shunned truth and embraced lies.

So here’s the rambling quote from Trump:

“By the way, if they hacked, they probably have her 33,000 emails. I hope they do. they probably have her 33,000 emails that she lost and deleted. I will tell you this — Russia, if you’re listening, I hope you’re able to find the 30,000 emails that are missing. I think you will probably be rewarded mightily by our press.”

A couple points about this statement (which gets confusing when you examine it–probably a result of Trump speaking off-the-cuff and not thinking about what he says before he says it:

  • “If they hacked…” past tense. If the Russians already hacked into these emails (because Hillary deliberately and criminally moved them into her own personal account), they should cough it up. Trump was not giving his approval for foreign intelligence services to hack into secured servers owned by our government. Which is, by the way, where Hillary was required by law to leave the messages in question.
  • “Rewarded mightily by our press.” Is Trump really so naive? Does anyone with a functioning brain not realize by now that the press is owned and controlled by the same people who own and control Hillary?

For an insight on how SJWs/gammas/depraved God-haters reason (for lack of a better verb), read this transcript.

Negotiating With Her For Marriage

Jennifer Scarred Wolf was an early riser. Joshua Rennenkampf was not.

By the time Josh got up and dressed, her bed was made and she was nowhere to be found in the house. Josh peeked out the window and saw her Jeep was still there, so he figured she was out taking a walk or picking flowers or some of that other girly stuff she liked to do. It was one of the things he loved about her, come to think of it: she was so easy to please, even just nature made her happy.

Another thing he loved about her was that she didn’t watch much TV. When she did, it was usually the Weather Channel. She’d sit and watch it like it was a fascinating interview or something.

Josh booted up his work station in the living room. He still had work to do on a couple of his contracts, but decided to get started on Tommy’s request instead. This was the weekend, after all.

He had lost track of time when Jennifer came inside, shedding her jacket.

“Good morning,” she greeted, cheerily. “Brrr. It’s nippy up here in the mornings.”

“Morning,” he replied, taking a sip of coffee.

She pressed her small, cold hands against the back of his neck and he jumped at the icy sensation.

“Told you it was nippy,” she said, laughing.

“You’re such a brat in the mornings,” he said, finding her cheer contagious despite himself. “Jeez, it’s not that cold outside, but your hands are like icicles.”

“Cold hands, warm heart,” she sing-songed, sweetly.

“Where were you?”

“Oh, I played with the dogs a little,” she said. “Brushed Indy down. I had to do something while you were sleeping your life away. I’ll go make breakfast in a minute.”

“Sounds good,” he said, rubbing her hands in between his to warm them.

She sat in his lap and glanced at the monitor. “What’s ‘MK Ultra’?”

“Just one of the rabbit trails I followed, checking into something for your uncle.”

Her expression turned thoughtful as she skimmed over some of the text on screen. “Monarch… Montauk… What is all this?”

Josh alt-tabbed to another window. “Oh, just some conspiracy stuff you probably don’t want to hear about.”

“Ah,” she said, poking him in a ticklish spot. “Trying to find out whether I’m real or a lizard-person?”

“Oh, I know you’re reptillian,” he deadpanned. “Your hands just gave it away, you two-legged iguana.”

She frowned, started to speak a couple times, then hesitantly said, “I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

Josh sobered in an instant. He dreaded “the Talk,” but knew, sooner or later, they were going to have it. Was now the time? They’d already had a couple Big Talks recently—surely he had earned a postponement?

They had the Religion Talk, wherein he had assured her he had no problem with her faith. He believed in God; just didn’t know much about Him and never made an effort to know. He’d never read the Bible before meeting her, and still wasn’t very keen on it, or going to church. But he suspected there was something to Christianity, or the pinkos wouldn’t be so rabid in their efforts to smear it.

They had the Political Talk, wherein she acknowledged the Hegelian patterns he pointed out in economic and foreign policy over the last century; conceding it might be plausible that people in authority could conspire to frame their enemies and kill innocents just to accumulate more power for themselves and push an agenda that couldn’t achieve popular support otherwise. She just didn’t like to dwell on it, and he could certainly understand that.

The Talk that was still forthcoming was about their future together–if there was to be one.

“I’ve been thinking about how my dad and Uncle Tommy were framed for that murder in Indonesia,” Jennifer said.

Relief flooded through Josh’s brain, despite the sobering subject of her murdered father. “Yeah?”

“Uncle Tommy thought it must be because of what they were investigating before they left. He couldn’t think of anything else it could be.”

(from Chapter 25)

The dogs began barking outside, then he heard a droning noise—an engine straining to pull a vehicle uphill on his private drive from the highway below. He changed seats and cued up his security camera feed. He toggled between the cameras and saw a subcompact creeping up his drive. There appeared to be only one person inside but he couldn’t tell who it was.

He strapped on the shoulder rig for his sidearm, pulled his jacket over it, and yanked his Mini-14 off the rack before heading outside. He drifted into the woods to the back of his parking area, and took position at a hide which gave him a good view of the drive and parking area, while concealing him fairly well.

When the subcompact pulled up and stopped, he recognized Paul Tareen’s daughter, Terry. She remained inside her car, though, staring warily at the two large pit bulls standing stiff-legged on either side of the car, watching her.

Josh broke from cover and strode toward the car, telling the dogs to stand down. Ragnarok and Valkyrie ran back to join him, then matched his pace, one on each flank. He had really hit the jackpot with these dogs. They responded to command very well with minimal training.

Seeing Josh, Terry got out of the car with a dimpled smile and a casserole pot. “Howdy, neighbor!” she called.

Josh slung the rifle around his back and said, “Hey, Terry. Never seen anyone in your family drive a car before. Thought you did everything on horseback.”

She laughed and lifted up the ceramic casserole pot. “I couldn’t figure out how to carry this on a horse.”

When he reached her, he extended his hand to shake. She hugged him instead. It was a brief contact, but the message was received: she was interested in being more than a handshake kind of neighbor.

“What’s that?” he asked, gesturing toward the dish.

“I made apple cobbler,” she said, cheerily. “We couldn’t finish all of it, so I thought you might like to, before it goes bad.”

“Well thanks,” he said. “That’s real nice of you.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, beaming. He felt guilty that this young, possibly innocent girl was so sprung for him.

“Well, come on inside,” he said, waving toward his house. “Might as well visit a spell, since you took the trouble to drive over.”

He led her inside. She asked polite questions and made polite comments about his dome home while looking around like a bumpkin in New York City.

Josh retrieved bowls and spoons from the kitchen. “Why don’t you have some with me?”

“I guess I’ll have a little bit,” Terry said, grinning again.

She was a pretty girl, with a natural willowy figure, and more feminine than most of her generation. Her rustic upbringing by a gruff father and no-nonsense mother had gifted her with manners and a degree of humility despite her youthful confidence.

Maybe marriage could live up to the hype with a woman like this. He hoped she would find a man who appreciated what she brought to the table, and not some abusive jerk, alcoholic, or deadbeat.

They chatted as they ate the cobbler at his small table, and he again felt a pang of guilt about her attraction to him.

“Just out of curiosity,” he asked, “does your family know you came over here?”

She nodded. “Yeah, why?”

“And they’re okay with it?”

She laughed. “They’re pretty sure you’re not a serial killer, or we wouldn’t have had you over for Independence Day.”

“How do I know you’re not a serial killer?” he asked.

She laughed some more. “Don’t ever make me mad, or you might find out.”

After a couple glances into his eyes, she said “Y’know, it’s going to be dark soon. Do you think you can show me how to navigate by the stars?”

By country girl standards, Terry was coming at him with all guns blazing.

He had given her family a copy of the Ranger’s Handbook, from which they could learn as much about using the stars as he could teach her. On the 4th of July at their house he had shown her family the basics of land navigation with a compass. He also answered a lot of questions about communications and military tactics, and discussed with Paul teaching them some more skills in the future. They ate a big meal cooked by Terry and her mother, and watched American Sniper on the flat screen, too.

“There’s not all that much to it,” he said, “but that’s fine.”

What cobbler they didn’t finish went into a plastic container, which he stored in the fridge. Terry asked if she could wash the casserole pot and lid in his sink, and volunteered to wash the other dishes, too. He gladly consented, and they continued to chat as she did.

She slyly worked in a few probing questions about Jennifer. Josh answered honestly that he wasn’t sure whether they would stay together, or even if they were still officially together right then. He wasn’t seeing anyone else, and didn’t think Jennifer was, but who could tell, regarding such things?

By the time Terry finished the dishes it was getting dark. They went outside and played with the dogs until it was dark enough to see the constellations clearly. He pointed out what she should be able to see on any clear night in the northern hemisphere, and how to judge direction by their position. The most important object to find was Polaris, the North Star, which was easily done after locating the Big Dipper.

As he pointed things out, she closed the distance until she was backed up against him. Her body language suggested that he should wrap her in his own body heat to fend off the cool evening air. Josh hadn’t always been a hermit, so he knew what was going on. And the pleasance of her proximity was overcoming the guilt he’d felt earlier. She was only a few years younger than Jennifer, after all…

Their age difference didn’t seem like such a big deal anymore. It was only thoughts of Jennifer that allowed him to keep his hands off Terry.

He said he had work to do, and sent her home. She bid goodbye with a smile that promised she would test his resolve again soon.

Despite himself, it was hard to concentrate on work that night. He went to bed with the idea that it really sucked being alone sometimes, and only then realized that Terry had been the victor in their friendly hormonal struggle.

The next night Josh finished the cobbler, and Jennifer called as he did. When she asked what he was doing he naively answered honestly, and the conversation quickly became an interrogation. Before it was finished, Jennifer found out where the cobbler came from, who delivered it, what happened afterwards and how long Terry visited that night. Having shown what he thought was respectable restraint, Josh answered her questions honestly, but was on the verge of telling her to mind her own business more than once.

Instead, he went the playful route and took every opportunity to crack jokes and poke fun.

He was tired of being in sexual limbo. He had been content with going Galt before meeting Jennifer, including the whole celibacy aspect. But she had awakened hungers in him which went unresolved for an extended period, and it was kind of satisfying making her squirm for a change.

Instead of getting pissy and hanging up in a huff, though, Jennifer said, “I’d like to come visit again this weekend.”

Jennifer drove up Friday. She had an interview at a law office in town before coming to his house. He avoided obvious questions like, “Why do you want a job here when you live in Oklahoma?”

He suspected any such question would trigger an ambush she had planned, to instigate the Talk.

But he knew the Talk was inevitable, and probably this weekend, so he instigated it himself when they put Denver and Indy back in the stables after a ride.

It was time to let the other shoe drop. Maybe she would take the deal he was willing to offer. If so, great. More likely, she wouldn’t. She could get on with her life and find the perfect supplicating church boy to marry, if that’s what she wanted. Josh could go back to being a hermit, or have some fun with Terry once he got over Jennifer…or whatever. He just wanted to know, and cut his losses if it wasn’t going to work out.

The Talk took them through the evening chores, back into the house, and finished on the couch.

“You’ve got expectations, right?” he asked, after they’d gone over the love motive extensively. She’d been claiming to be in love with him ever since Indonesia.

“Expectations?” she repeated. “What do you mean?”

He sighed, uncomfortable with these touchy-feely conversations about relationships and other daytime TV fodder. “I mean you want to get married. You’ve made that pretty obvious. So you must have certain expectations about how it’s going to be. What do you expect a husband to bring to the table?”

“You make me sound so demanding,” she said.

I’ve got expectations,” he said, shrugging.

“Like what?”

“Fine, Jennifer: I’ll go first: Outside of war, nuclear attack, or natural disaster, I’m not moving anywhere.”

She almost smiled. “I wouldn’t dream of asking you to leave this place.”

Jennifer didn’t like the cold, but she loved snow. When she visited he would often wake up to find her drinking a cup of coffee just staring out the window at the scenery, bundled up in blankets like an Eskimo even though it was warm in his house.

“Okay, good,” he said. “But I’m the king of this castle. I have the last say and the bottom line on decisions, and I expect you to back me up, even if you disagree with me.”

She flinched. “You expect me to just keep my mouth shut and do as I’m told?”

“I said king; not tyrant,” he replied. “We can talk about stuff. You can tell me what you think. If I see you’re right about something, then fine—we’ll go with that. But if I listen to all your reasons and still decide on something else, you need to let it drop and not pitch a fit.”

“That’s not really fair,” she said. “You could refuse to admit I’m right, and stick with your decision just to be stubborn.”

He shrugged again. “If you can’t trust me, then you got no business marrying me.”

She mulled this over for a while. “I guess I’m not really against you being king of the castle. But I would expect to be queen.”

“I have no problem with that,” he said. “Just don’t start thinking we’re on a chess board.”

“What else?” she asked, warily.

He hadn’t expected to get past that one. He had been sure she would storm out calling him a sexist pig and plenty other names. Still, she hadn’t explicitly agreed to the term, either. He decided not to press her on it right now, because he had plenty more he was sure would bring her claws out.

“I’m not gonna tolerate disrespect from you,” he said. “I don’t care how mad at me you are, or if you’ve had a bad day, or if I’ve done something really stupid. If you’re my wife, then you give me respect, period. You can disagree with me or whatever without disrespecting me.”

She nodded. Well, that was easier than expected, too.

“You have to put up with my lunacy, ” he said. “Because I’ll probably never change. My worldview isn’t going to change; I’m not giving up my guns; I’m not going to get a national I.D. if it becomes mandatory; I’m not getting kitchen appliances with microchips for the smart grid; I’m not going to register or get permits for anything I already have a right to.”

“I’ve never called you a lunatic, Joshua. I just get scared sometimes because you dwell on gloom and doom stuff so much. I think I ought to get a gun of my own. Something like what Uncle Tommy has, but maybe doesn’t kick as hard.”

At that point Josh’s goal began to transform from scaring Jennifer away as fast and decisively as possible, to seeing if there was actually a glimmer of hope they could be together long-term.

“My rule about cellphones stands,” he added. “And anything else that can be used to spy on me. That’s a deal-breaker.”

This was it. No woman on Earth, once aware of cellular technology and social networks, would ever give them up. They would die first.

She sighed. “I know. What else?”

His jaw dropped. “Do you mean you agree?”

She nodded, frowning. “I’ll go along with that. But there’s got to be some kind of compromise we can both live with. For now: okay. Anything else?”

“W-well,” he stammered, still off balance, “you’re not allowed to kick me when I’m down.”


He scratched his head. This had gone completely different than he had imagined. Normally he would suspect she was lying just to trap him, but she had proven honest to a fault so far. “I want sex,” he said.

“That’s part of marriage,” she said, with a reserved laugh.

“Well,” he licked dry lips, feeling awkward about all this, “I want it often, and I want…you know, passion. You can’t just lay there like you’re bored or being traumatized.”

“I don’t think I would be like that,” she said.

“You can’t be claiming headaches all the time, or you don’t ‘feel sexy,’ or other excuses.”

“What if I’m sick?” she asked, with an indignant sharpening of tone. “I’m still expected to…?”

“No, no,” he interrupted, shaking his head. “Legitimate reasons are one thing. But you can’t use sex as a weapon. It’s not a training tool for you to withhold as punishment or give as a reward. It’s just something we do. And if you’re not gonna enjoy it…if you’re not gonna give it a good ol’ college try, then I really don’t want to go through the trouble. What’s the point of us sharing a bed?”

Jennifer chewed on her lip for a moment, then said, “I’ve got some expectations, if you’re done.”

“I think those are the big ones,” he said, feeling dazed. “If we can agree on those, we can work out the rest.”

“Okay,” she said. “If I’m going to be your wife, then we have to find a good church somewhere around here, and I expect you to go with me.”

This was no surprise. “I can do that. Sundays and Wednesdays?”

“Probably,” she said. “We can take a day off now and then. But we might get invited to extra things I want to go to.”

“I’d be willing to do that,” he said.

She looked relieved. “Also, I’d like you to keep an open mind about it.”

“About Christianity?” he asked.

She nodded. “Just give it the benefit of honest consideration, the way you’ve done with other things you believe.”

He shrugged. It seemed like a fair compromise.

“And I would raise our kids to believe in God,” she added quickly. “To read the Bible, and believe what’s in it.”

“You can’t force people to believe something, Jennifer. I’m living proof of that.”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” she said, putting her hand on his. “I’m saying I’m going to teach my kids the truth as I see it. When they get old enough, they’ll make up their own minds just like we do. But they’ll at least have the benefit of the option.”

“I’ll go along with that,” he said.

“You won’t try to contradict what I teach them?”

“No, but while we’re on the subject of kids…”

“Hold that thought, please,” she said, pointing an index finger in the air. “We’ll get to that in a minute.”

“Okay,” he said. “Go for it.”

“I won’t tolerate abuse,” she said. “That’s a deal breaker for me.”

“That’s no prob…wait a minute. Define ‘abuse.’ Does it include when you don’t get your way, or you don’t like something I say?”

“You can’t hit me,” she clarified. “Ever. Or choke me or…manhandle me…”

He waved his hands and shook his head. “Physical rough stuff. I wouldn’t ever do that to you.”

“But just like you don’t want to be disrespected,” she added, “you can’t be verbally abusive, either.”

“What’s verbal abuse? Define that.”

“I’m not talking about arguments…”

“You mean sarcasm?” he asked. “Because I use sarcasm all the time, even when I’m not upset.”

“Sometimes,” she said, twisting her lips as if searching for the right words. “Any kind of character assassination directed at me. Anything meant to demean or defame or belittle me.”


“I expect faithfulness,” she said. “If you’re my husband, there can’t be any other woman.”

“Give me sex on a regular basis and I won’t want any other women,” he said, a bit defensive.

“Joshua, I’m serious. I can’t tell you how serious I am about this.”

He squeezed her hand. “Same thing on the flip side, though. You have to be faithful, too. No exceptions, no excuses.”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” she said. “Believe me: I’ve had opportunities.”

“I’m on board. But it’s a two-way street.”

“And just for the record,” she said. “Once I’m married, I plan to give my husband all the sex he can handle.”

Josh said nothing, but his mind sure was noisy right then.

“I’d like to have three children,” she continued. “Maybe more.”

“Hmm. Who decides if more and how many more?” Josh asked.

“Something we’d have to agree on. Would you give me at least three?”

Josh thought about it. “Yeah. But what if I decided no more, and you still wanted more?”

She took a deep breath. “If I couldn’t convince you, then I guess I’d have to respect your wishes.”

He couldn’t believe how this was going.

“But we can’t argue in front of the kids,” she said. “We have to work out disagreements in private, and present a united front to the family.”

“Fair enough,” Josh said. “And you can teach them Bible stuff, but I’m gonna teach them to shoot, hunt, trap and prep.”

She seemed to look a little less worried the further along the conversation went.

“I know you love your privacy,” she said, “but I want to be able to have family over.”

“Tommy and Linda are welcome here any time,” Josh said, with a magnanimous gesture. “Same with Gunther and Carl. And Uncle Jay for that matter. I’m just not so sure about Takoda, though.”

“Me neither, right now,” Jennifer said. “But what about my mother?”

“If she minds her manners, we can do that.”

And we should go there to visit them sometimes, too,” Jennifer said. “And you’ll have to be sociable.”

“Life of the party—that’s me.”

“And I’ll work as a legal assistant; or at whatever job I can find, if you want me to,” she continued. “But when we have our first baby, I’m done. I stay home and raise our children after that.”

“You mean you don’t want to build a career first, and wait until your 30s to start popping them out?”

She shook her head.

He was stunned. He knew Jennifer marched to a different drum, but had no idea she was this divergent from the feminist norm. “Well…how soon do you want to start popping them out?”

“We can spend a year or two just enjoying each other,” she said. “But I don’t want to wait any longer than that.”

“Done. And you don’t have to get a job at all if you don’t want, baby or not. I make enough consulting to keep the bills paid here.”

She cracked a smile. “Done? Does that mean my terms sound acceptable?”

They did. In fact, he was getting excited. Truth be told, she had him at “all the sex you can handle.”

With the big concerns dealt with, they moved on to smaller stuff. He felt even better about the whole thing when he found out she didn’t want some huge dog-and-pony show of a ceremony. It seemed she understood that the marriage would be more important than the wedding.

As the exchange of terms lightened up and wound down, she snickered a little and said, “You know, I guess you could say what we’re both insisting on is an old pre-war, maybe even Puritan, marriage.”

“Welcome to the new frontier,” he quipped, kissing her hand. “The new counter-culture.”

“Well, except for your doomsday prepping, anyway,” she said.

Josh snapped his fingers. “Hey, wait right there. I got something for you.”

He left her on the couch, went back into his workshop, found what he wanted on the bench next to the soldering iron, and returned to the living room with the customized phone.

“I was saving this for your birthday, but it’s ready now.” He handed it to her and she stared curiously at it. “I modified it. It’s safe to use here at the house or wherever. And you don’t need a warranty plan from the carrier. If it breaks, I’ll fix it.”

She turned it on, eyes lighting up before the screen did. “Does it have Internet?”

“Of course,” he said, laughing. “It’s rooted. You get not only wi-fi but 4G, free. Texting. A few aps. But you can’t trust all the aps out there, so you have to check with me before you download anything.”

She threw her arms around him and squeezed with surprising strength for her size.

He slapped her on the thigh and stood. “Go get dressed up.”

“What?” she asked, tearing her gaze away from the phone to look at him. “Why?”

“I’m taking you to a restaurant in town,” he replied. “There’s a question I want to ask you there.”

(from Chapter 30 of False Flag)

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

On Saturday July 30 2016 all the novels from the Retreads Series are on sale at Amazon for 99 cents.

Sun Tzu and the Republican National Convention

It’s an ancient military axiom that you usually don’t want to attack your enemy when and where he is expecting an attack. Perhaps not as old is the idea that politics is just a polite, dignified extension of warfare.

The RNC in Cleveland turned out to be a pleasant surprise in that no mayhem ensued, inside or outside the Convention venue.

Considering Ferguson, Baltimore, Chicago, San Jose, etc., it’s rather astounding that the Soros-funded useful idiots and other America-hating Millenials didn’t sieze the opportunity to stick it to The Man; show Whitey what’s up; shout truth (by the Marxist-Leninist definition) to power, and  otherwise beat down those fascist pigs who have the audacity to believe differently and contradict The Narrative.

One possible reason it didn’t happen might be that so many of us were expecting it. Another is that, because it was expected, a number of “alt right” activists journeyed to Cleveland and made their presence felt on the streets. At least a few of them were packing heat.

Possibly even more astonishing is that, inside the convention, the RINOs didn’t use a last-minute rule change or other dirty trick to railroad Trump out of the nomination.

Perhaps this, too, never developed because so many were expecting it (and many were openly vowing a violent response if it did). Or, more ominously, it might be because the puppeteers have finally gotten a handle on Trump somehow, and he has agreed to play ball (betray us like all the rest) if he wins the presidency.

His choice of running mate might indicate the latter.

We Defy!

There was activity by one of the vans. Some agents were trying to get back to a van, probably to get some gear they intended to use.
Roberts figured that had to be stopped. We can’t afford some
counter sniper activity, when it came down to it there would be no extra risk tolerated to either his men or himself. “All X-ray
elements, this is X-ray 47, prevent equipment recovery from the van on the highway, 4th vehicle from the last.”
The FBI Hostage Rescue Team was in a bad spot. They (or more
accurately, previous members of the Team) had been present at Ruby Ridge and at the Branch Davidian compound in Waco.
Those incidents were sore points with the tea bagger movement, and the agents on the Team knew that if given the opportunity, the tea baggers would kill them with relish in revenge. The agents had to get the sniper rifles into action, or they would be dead men.
There was no way the average agents, even those who had SWAT training, were going to get the Team out of this situation. The tea baggers were over 300 meters out, and they knew that most agents couldn’t hit an elephant at 200 meters. The Team had to get back to the van.
Roberts RTO was approaching, saying into the microphone
“Standby for X-ray 47 actual.” And then he handed the mike to
“This is X-ray 47 actual, over.”
“This in X-ray 72, request to take targets by van down, over.”
“Shred the van, knee cap them if you can, then take them down, over.”
“Roger, out.”

Above is an excerpt from the action chapter of this book, when the JTF (Joint Task Force) raid runs into an ambush by a well-organized militia.

To describe this book in one sentence, I might say Atlas Shrugs meets Armor at Fulda Gap. There is no character development, to speak of. In fact, character establishment is mostly lacking throughout. Yet it is a gripping story of a few good men who have had enough of the long march to a 3rd World police state, and band together to do something about it–something more effective (and realistic?) than “going Galt” to some fantasy retreat where the jackbooted Feds will just leave them alone.

In this speculative tale of a near future secession effort in Texas, the focal character is Jim Roberts, a former armor officer who is well-versed in military SOPs, TOOs and overall military doctrine. He also knows a great deal about the law and politics, though toward the end we discover he hates politics (and I can relate). From a storytelling perspective it seems he’s not all that necessary for 2/3rds of the narrative, which is in a summary format. Nevertheless, after a couple pages it was hard to quit reading.

I’m tempted to call this “an optimistic dystopia” because everything seems to fall into place for the good guys. Oh, they have opposition, and that opposition is depicted credibly. The optimistic part is how so many individualists can put aside petty differences, come together with realistic plans, attainable goals, and work selflessly to actually make a change while pretty much getting everything right along the way. From my experience, this would never happen. Nevertheless, it is an engrossing read because I like to dream about how we COULD preserve some of our freedoms IF IF IF this, that, that, and this all went right, and if key people handled thus situation exactly in this fashion, and Joe and Moe could check their pride at the door in order to work together, etc. Perhaps patriots and Texicans would enjoy this book as much as I did. It might be just the ticket for those who don’t normally read fiction (or read at all), because it’s full of information and action plans which could, theoretically, be mimicked in real life.

The version of this book that I read was not edited. It reads like a first draft by somebody who doesn’t know (how) to punctuate, with seriously challenged spelling and grammar skills…and who only made matters worse with what spell check function was utilized. In other words: a typical Indie e-book. Difficulty telling dialog from inner-dialog from narration was compounded by a haphazard use of quotation marks. During one passage of dialog which went on for quite a while, there were no attributions at all and you might could figure out who was saying what if you took notes and kept score. There were several paragraphs I had to re-read a few times to deduce what the meaning would be without so many errors, and more than a couple places where the sentence construction was so mangled that I just couldn’t figure out what information the author was trying to convey.

I was given a free copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.


More Hillary Follies (That She’ll No Doubt Get Away With)

Without massive election fraud, Hussein would not have continued his occupation of the White House in 2012. Possibly wouldn’t have occupied it in the first place. So what happens when the people don’t hold their public servants accountable?

The same thing happens, of course. Over, and over, and over…

Not even counting the hordes of non-citizen invaders, dead voters and serial voters, here’s what Stanford University uncovered about lying, crooked Hillary.

Now WikiLeaks is releasing emails which show more dirty dealings from the Democrats. The first wave has already hit.  The founder of WikiLeaks has expressed an intention to get Hillary indicted.

hillaryvoterfraudDon’t hold your breath, dude. There’s more than enough to indict her already, many times over; and Hussein, too. There was enough back when her hubby the Teflon Traitor was in power. 40 % of the population would vote for whoever the Democrat candidate is, even if they strangled a baby and raped its corpse on prime time network news. And in case you haven’t noticed, the entire “Justice” Department is in the Clintons’ pocket.

Not that Network news, or any facet of the Narrative Enforcement Ministry, would report on it, anyway. Case in point is Faceborg, which admits to censoring links to WikiLeaks. Can’t have the unwashed swing voters exposed to unfiltered information and using their unwashed brains to decide for themselves what to think about it, now can we? The Faceborg claims it was an automated spam detector, of course. After all, there’s no pattern of one-sided censorship at Farcebook, is there?

And the “peoples’ uprisings” that shut down or otherwise disrupted Trump rallies (which included physical assaults against attendees)? Organized by the DNC. Of course the press covered this up, and blamed the violence on the victims. Socialist midwits across the country lapped up the agitprop and swallowed it whole.

Let’s not forget Hillary’s definitive moment as Secretary of State:

Red-Blooded American Men Examine Pop-Culture and the World