Category Archives: TEOTWAWKI

All This and Civil War Two

What began as an interview with R.A. Mathis about Homeland: Falling Down turned into quite a discussion about America teetering on the precipice of oblivion. Here is Part One:

 

HENRY BROWN: First of all, thanks for agreeing to do the interview.

R.A. MATHIS: Thank you for having me, Hank.

HENRY BROWN: After reading Ghosts of Babylon, I guess I assumed you might follow up with something similar, or possibly move on to more mainstream literature. What made you decide to spin a SHTF yarn?

R.A. MATHIS: I wrote Ghosts of Babylon because I had to. It began as an effort to mentally sort out my Iraq experience. The Homeland series is the same.
The seed was formed from the occasional news story of another general being fired for questionable reasons, a new executive order being announced, or the IRS being used as a weapon. That seed took root as these stories began to appear with alarming regularity. I thought it was just me being a bit paranoid, so put it aside and kept my mouth shut. But then I noticed others voicing the same concerns, both on the street and even in the popular media.
The last straw dropped when a guy came to our house to work on the air conditioner. We struck up a conversation as he worked. He told me that he was mortally afraid of the government. That’s when I began to realize how widespread the concern really was. (As a side note, I believe this sentiment is a contributor to the current election cycle’s rebellion against all things establishment.)

(HENRY BROWN: I would have to agree. And on the one hand it’s about time. But on the other…it seems to me that the pent-up outrage, now that it’s finally loose, is proving to be misdirected in many quarters.)

R.A. MATHIS: Homeland is an attempt to test the thesis, to mentally sort it out as a kind of mental experiment. Unfortunately, the thesis is proving all too plausible.

On a similar note, I noticed your Retreads series has gone from pulpy men’s adventure to a more serious SHTF genre. Why the shift?

HENRY BROWN: I’m not sure I can answer that in a way that makes sense to others, but I’ll try. Some of the times I’ve been happiest in life were when I had my head stuck in the sand–either voluntarily or unintentionally. That applies to the writing partition of my life, too. My whole experiment in men’s fiction was partly an effort to relive the fun and the rush of adventure lived vicariously through characters in some of the novels I read as a kid and young man. Better yet: to pass that experience along to new readers. Such was my ambition. (And yet, I couldn’t go Full Ostrich all the way–in Hell & Gone you can already see the government attitude–through the goons in their alphabet soup agencies–that certain law-abiding Americans are more dangerous than actual terrorists. In Tier Zero I sort of laid the ground work for False Flag by introducing some ugly little secrets of black ops, and how, if Washington doesn’t have a convenient one to exploit, our would-be rulers are willing to manufacture a crisis as an excuse for the next power grab in their agenda.) But I got to the point where I just couldn’t swallow the blue pill anymore.

I see the world around me drowning in deception. People who recognize this must not let the truth be buried. We have to shout it from the rooftops as best we can, despite the odds. If those sound like the words of a maniac, well, so be it.

I guess I should mention that I’ve had it in mind to write apocalyptic or post-apocalyptic fiction for a long time–but something a little less heavy, like the Last Ranger series or Doomsday Warrior before it (only without the mutants, the Zen philsophy and the weird psychodelic acid trip scenes). However, taking stock of the situation facing us in America, people need to wake up; not be somnambulized into maintaining their complacency.

The Retreads were established characters, who I and some readers really liked. If I could choose anybody to guard my flanks when facing Armageddon, it would be guys like them. After all, they were staring down the barrel of WWIII from their very debut, and handled it pretty well. At the same time, I knew that pulling out all the stops politically would piss off some readers who liked the previous books. Oh well. Life is too short and freedom is too precious to lose sleep over whether I offended somebody or not. I get offended constantly in books and movies. Suck it up and drive on.

Aren’t you sorry you asked that question, now?

When you introduced the DHS involvement with the regular army in Falling Down, it made perfect sense and I wondered why it hadn’t been done before (my own excuse is that I haven’t yet depicted conventional national military forces). After all, the Red Army had its political officers–military commisars or whatever, feared by all the regular soldiers. Same with the Soviet Navy. The Wermacht was, to an extent, gripped by terror due to the SS and Gestapo. Compared to me, your active duty experience is very up-to-date. Did you witness anything first-hand that confirmed for you this scenario will play out in a SHTF scenario?

R.A. MATHIS: You are exactly right about the Soviet commissars being the basis for the DHS “advisors” assigned to active units in the book. In fact, an important parameter of my “thought experiment” mentioned above is that there must be historical precedence for the events in the book, especially in the actions taken by the government. Knowing that the new regime would be suspicious, or even hostile, toward the military, commissars assigned to keep the troops in line would be a top priority. If you put yourself in the regime’s shoes, the DHS seemed like a perfect fit.
My first-hand military experience ended in 2006, before our current President took office. At that time, the political correctness machine was already in full swing, but I never experienced blatant meddling by civilian agents. That being said, the amount and pace of social engineering forced upon our men and women in uniform since then is both staggering and alarming.

There is something I found interesting as I read False Flag. The occult ceremonies woven into the plot and connected with the tier-zero units and other operatives. Can you go into more detail about their purpose to the regime and why you included them in the story? Also, are these ceremonies simply mind control, or are they really colluding with unseen forces?

HENRY BROWN: Well, now you’ve done it. If people didn’t believe me to be a tinfoil hat whack-job already…

This angle came entirely from my research, which encompassed everything from MK Ultra and Monarch to “satanic ritual abuse.” I followed the leads where they led and was astonished to discover how interconnected it all is. It all sounds crazy on the surface–some of it as if inspired by a B-horror movie or bad sci-fi. And don’t get me wrong–there are a lot of cockamamie wive’s tales out there. Unfortunately, much of it is mixed up with things that happen to be true. I could go on at great length on this subject, but will try to pare it down to just a couple aspects.

One of the first bombshells to land on me was that multiple personality disorder (MPD) can be artificially created in people. And I’m understating the fact here, because some who have studied it much more than I have will tell you that EVERY case of MPD was manufactured by high level experts in cognitive sciences; and furthermore, that they do so with a common denominator of ulterior motives, and with government funding.

Some of those same folks will tell you that there absolutely are unseen forces at work. Certain spiritual beings are always looking for a body to occupy, and when a personality is split, they are given entry. This is stuff I don’t really want to believe. I’ve never been obsessed with UFOs, vampires, werewolves or witchcraft. I don’t watch “ghost hunter” shows or think zombies (as depicted in pop culture recently) are very credible. In most of the churches I’ve ever attended, great pains were made to downplay the supernatural in the Bible, and remove the paranormal/supernatural from the Christian worldview. Frankly, that tendency rubbed off on me, so I’ve never taken that stuff seriously most of my life. That is beginning to change. I’m at the point now that I do see a spiritual/occultic aspect to the postwar mind control efforts. But not many rational people can swallow that–which I certainly understand. What I tried to do was write that subplot in an ambiguous enough manner that the reader can take it whichever way they are most comfortable with–either just advanced brain-screwing built on the discoveries of the Nazi mind control pioneers with occultic trappings to make the victims believe they’re tapping into some ancient spiritual power; or human scientists carrying out the brain-screwing at the behest of the unseen beings they serve (knowingly or unknowingly). The bottom line for most readers, perhaps, is that it’s fiction. There are plenty of theories even more far out than this in other books or movies, and people suspend their disbelief for the sake of entertainment. Frankly, I’d love to be proven wrong about a lot of stuff I’ve said both on this blog and in my books.

As to what purpose our domestic enemies would have for such individuals…when you take stock of what they are doing and still intend to do, sleeper agents they can activate like flipping a switch can come in very handy. Especially in false flags. The cream of the crop could be held in reserve for really big jobs–high profile assassinations, for instance; while the unstable sleepers can be used as cannon fodder in the school-shooting-of-the-week. One investigator has discovered that many of the MPD cases are part of a “super soldier” program, which makes sense when you consider that the mind control endeavors in North America took over where the Nazi scientists left off. Pretty scary, if true.

You mentioned how the purge of the  US high command partly inspired you to write Falling Down. In my own SHTF book, that purge of field grade officers (which began in earnest about 2009) also plays a part. First off, I’m curious how the average Joe in the ranks feels about this today, as well as the junior grade officers. Secondly, you wrote it in such a way as to suggest that Colonel Lee bugged out before being nabbed by the DHS. Are we going to see him again in future installments?

R.A. MATHIS: On the purge subject: Like the old saying goes, you can’t fool the troops. I still have friends in uniform. They see the attack dogs ejected while the lapdogs are promoted. It has an adverse effect on morale across the width and breadth of the active force.
Yes, we will see more of Colonel Lee. Good catch on that one.

HENRY BROWN: Considering those purges, among other things, what is your general gut feeling about whether the regular military will hesitate to make war on American citizens?

R.A. MATHIS: That is why I included Cole in the book. I needed to see the situation through the eyes of a soldier. I don’t think they will obey that type of order, the outstanding conduct of our troops in the Middle East (with very few exceptions) over the last 13 years will testify to that. But what if extreme coercion is applied?  In Homeland, all military families are brought on base when it hits the fan. This allows the soldiers to focus on their jobs, knowing that their wives and children are protected and cared for. However, this move also gives the regime leverage. If a soldier refuses to commit atrocities, his family may be forfeit. That kind of pressure is enough to make good men do very bad things. I do not envy our troops in such a situation. The same tactic can be used on just about anybody. This was a key tool of the totalitarian regimes in the last century. I don’t see why future regimes would stop using it.

HENRY BROWN: I don’t envy them either. In fact, rarely does a day go by anymore that I don’t find myself opining that I couldn’t be a part of what the military has become. It is no place for a patriot, or even for a good soldier anymore.

R.A. MATHIS: What are your thoughts on the likelihood of the American military making war on its own citizens?

HENRY BROWN: No offense, but in my experience officers often have a perspective on situations and shared experience that is rosier than the grunts see it. I’ve been on the enlisted side and could write quite a hatchet-job on the rank-and-file, even back in my day and even in an elite unit.

It boils down to this: kids growing up in the USA have no appreciation for how good we’ve had it here. They not only take our freedom and rights for granted, they are conditioned to have contempt for America. Very few of them resist that conditioning. Those people grow up and join the armed forces and, big surprise, the motivation is rarely patriotism. It’s for college money and job training. And that’s how the recruiting commercials pitch it. They throw bait out for mercenaries and that’s what they get.  (But perhaps many did join in the months/years after 9/11 for a more altruistic motive).

Career soldiers would just as easily fight for any cause and as part of any army. That’s the impression I got of the average G.I.

All officers have some generic pretense of honor, but when the rubber meets the road, most officers and NCOs are serving their career ambitions, not their country. Some are better than others, but those who rise to the top are nothing more than uniformed politicians.

Baron Von Steuben gave us quite the compliment when he illustrated the uniqueness of the American soldier (unlike any other soldier who receives an order and automatically complies, Americans had to have confidence in the motive behind the order before they would comply). This is definitely no longer the case.

All of this was bad enough when I wore the uniform; I’m sure it’s much worse now. Thank God there are exceptions. But what few good soldiers, sailors, marines and airmen remain are either being purged, or forced out by the increasingly hostile environment the military is being transformed into. So yes: I’m afraid most will fire on American civilians, and with little hesitation–especially with the added head games they are sure to get immediately prior. I would love to be proven wrong, but won’t hold my breath.

So, whether faced with our own military or with modern-day Hessians under globalist command (assuming the 3 percenters have prepped adequately enough to avoid being simply starved to death) with no support from a foreign ally and probably without popular support, how viable do you consider a guerilla resistance effort to be?

R.A. MATHIS: You mention in False Flag that no insurgency has ever won without foreign intervention and popular support, which I thought was a very good point. The two things America has to counter that are the 2nd Amendment and the 2008 election of the best gun salesman the country has ever seen. We have over 300 million citizens and about as many firearms in this country. We are also buying up ammo as fast as it can be produced (at least what is left over after DHS gets their share). Combine that with hundreds of thousands of highly trained combat veterans scattered to every part of the country, and the odds don’t look so long.

(HENRY BROWN: What a coincidence that veterans, patriots and gun owners top the list of potential “domestic terrorists” the government is most worried about, eh?)

R.A. MATHIS: This alludes to the working title of Book Three, “Every Blade of Grass.”

HENRY BROWN: How appropriate–that very quote (whoever said it) was just going through my mind as your words sunk in.

R.A. MATHIS: I think the success of a resistance would vary by region. Rural areas would be virtual no-go zones for regime forces. Some urban areas may just welcome them like the Vichy French.
It seems to me that the biggest problem for the resistance would be the lack of electricity. If the regime restored power to each region as it was brought into compliance, it could make for effective deadly propaganda against the resistance. It’s the old “freedom vs security” dilemma on steroids. I’m not sure which way the populace would go in that case, especially in winter.

 That’s about the halfway mark. Look for the rest of the discussion next time. – Hank

Paper Clip, High Jump, and Nazis in Antarctica

Those are what my co-guest, Bruno De Marqes, talked about on the Speculative Fiction Cantina podcast.

Fate plays some interesting jokes. I was there to talk about my books, especially False Flag . I fully expected to rock the boat broaching some of the conspiritorial subjects FF deals with. (Truth be told, there wasn’t time to go into much detail anyway.) Bruno was there to talk about his book, Futureman. I couldn’t believe my ears when he mentioned researching Operation High Jump and Operation Paper Clip.

So here’s a guy in Portugul who chased down the same crazy historical facts-that-sound-like-pulp-fiction I had. The between-the-lines background for one sub-plot in False Flag is MK Ultra and Project Monarch. All of the above were related to Paper Clip.

It doesn’t sound as crazy coming from a foreigner, for some reason.

Anyway, the subjects were only mentioned in summary. Most of the interview focuses on other aspects of us/our fiction.

There is No Political Solution

Before I explain that title, let me expound on it:

  • There is no political solution to the trouble America is in.
  • There is no economic solution.
  • There certainly is no racial solution.
  • There is no cultural solution.
  • There is no moral solution.

If you don’t recognize (or don’t care about) the calamity faced by the United States of America right now, then this post is not for you. Good-bye.

THE SOLUTION IS NOT POLITICAL

For the last 102 years, the USA has incrementally abandoned the principles that made it so great and prosperous. It was so great and prosperous that it continued to thrive for a time even while being strangled by suicidal policies antithetical to our foundation.

112th Congress Convenes On Capitol Hill
How the ideological battle of wills manifests in Congress.

For the most part, this national suicide has been driven by the Democratic Party. Which means the solution must be the Republican Party, right?

Wrong. Even when the GOP wins elections…even when they control the Executive Branch and BOTH HOUSES OF CONGRESS…the course correction is never made. Nothing of import changes for the better.

We’re supposed to believe that some quibbling about the degree of taxation, or funding one undeclared war instead of another, represents a profound difference between the two parties. Let’s argue about whether we should be speeding over a cliff at 90 MPH or 60MPH, and censor anyone who believes we shouldn’t be speeding toward the cliff at all. Meanwhile our freedom continues to be usurped and our sovereignty stolen no matter who wins our dubious elections.

GOPjudas
LEFT: “Good one, Mr. President! Next, let’s get them fighting about Confederate flags while we pass the TPP.” RIGHT: “Have fun paying for our welfare while we steal your elections, pendejo!”

The GOP captured both the House and the Senate once again on the promise to defund Obamacare and secure the borders, just to name a couple. It’s painfully obvious they never intended to oppose their Democrat “opposition” in the first place.

They are both marching to the tune of the same drummer. That drummer is not We the People who foot the bill.

Some Americans are waking up, but are vastly outnumbered by the subversive forces invading (or the ones already here, and firmly entrenched).

THE SOLUTION IS NOT ECONOMIC

You can pontificate on the stock market, interest rates, oil prices or minimum wage until you’re blue in the face, and you haven’t even acknowledged the core of our problem.

There is more than enough information out there about the system of fiat currency that has been illegally foisted on us to rob from/destroy the middle class while amassing all the real wealth in the coffers of the international bankers. If you have any interest in the truth, you can educate yourself on it.

economic-collapse
“Relax–we’re professionals. When we destroy an economy, rest assured that we receive the compensation due professionals with our expensive credentials. You wouldn’t want to be financially decimated by some amateur.”

Disaster was deferred by tweaking some minutiae inside this criminal system for a while, but it can’t be prolonged forever.

We can’t avert disaster by working inside this system. The system can’t be fixed. The system was designed to fail, and economic devastation is now inevitable. “Quantitative easing” is just Newspeak for an insane notion of doing the same thing while expecting a different result. It prolongs disaster for one more election cycle while ensuring the disaster will be even more disastrous when it hits.

THERE CERTAINLY IS NO RACIAL SOLUTION

I can’t believe how often I’m hearing Internet Rednecks talking as if all our problems are caused by skin pigment or DNA.

CFRWake up, you ignorant tools. It was lily-white traitors who sold us out and who perpetuate our slide into oblivion. Certainly they use illegals and ignorant minorities (among others) to exacerbate the problems. They also count on your ignorance to misidentify the core problem, and you’re not disappointing them.

If racial uniformity was what is needed to preserve a civilization, then National Socialist Germany would still dominate Europe today, and be stronger than ever. And even if that were the case, it’s hardly the kind of place you would want to live (unless you’re a masochist whose fantasy is to live like a slave that only does, speaks and thinks what he is told).

THERE IS NO CULTURAL SOLUTION

Why does the majority of the population support (or at least tolerate) the very policies and “laws” that lead to their own subjugation, impoverishment, and eventual outright destruction?

TVherdingAs many of you know, it’s because of cultural conditioning. They have been intentionally dumbed-down, and programmed to think and behave according to patterns of self-destruction by everything they watch, listen to, and read (for those who still can read).

On the one hand, it’s encouraging to see phenomena like the Sad/Rabid Puppies, Truth Revolt, the CLFA and various other entities challenging the collectivist gatekeepers at some strongholds of pop culture. It’s encouraging to see Zero Hedge and InfoWars reporting on what the lapdog media works so hard to cover up.

On the other hand, it’s too little/too late. These battles should have been joined 30 years ago at minimum.

CNN

It took generations to drive us down to the moral, political, economic and cultural abyss that we find ourselves in–and there was virtually no resistance.

There would be tremendous resistance trying to regain what we’ve lost, and it would take generations to regain it.

We don’t have generations. We don’t even have one generation. Oblivion is staring us in the face right now. I’m not even sure we have a year.

After we have been reduced to a third world police state, all the cultural battles we could fight will be moot. Not that you’re allowed to speak freely in a police state, anyway.

THERE IS NO MORAL SOLUTION

Morality in America is a joke, now. It’s sad when even a murderous KGB scum like Vladymir Putin has the (relative) moral high ground to remark upon it. But it can’t be denied. The USA is now a moral cesspool and is getting worse faster than we can even track it.

Multi-Colored Lights Illuminate The White House To Honor Gay Marriage

Yet the old adage “you can’t legislate morality” is more true than ever, for a number of reasons. One reason is that those in a position to legislate it are themselves morally bankrupt.

THE CORE PROBLEM

Our political, economic and racial problems are just symptoms. Effective, meaningful action could have been taken on all these fronts as recently as 30 years ago to alter our course away from national suicide. But our moral depravity had corrupted our thinking, making accurate self-evaluation impossible.

But moral depravity is just a symptom, too.

We believed so many lies, and drowned ourselves in a moral cesspool, because we were programmed to do so through the culture.

But the culture is just a symptom, as well.

All these systems afflict us, feed on each other, spread and perpetuate because of the core problem. And because, as a nation, we reject the one true solution.

THE SOLUTION IS SPIRITUAL

Had we not turned against the Creator God who blessed us in the first place, we would have maintained the moral strength to reject lies, embrace truth, be good stewards of our culture, make sound political and economic decisions.

mandelhouseMoreover, we would have had the courage to reject the evil men who hijacked all of the above.

As has happened to other nations throughout history, and as His M.O. demonstrates on an individual level, the judgment of God Almighty doesn’t necessarily always manifest overtly like fire from heaven, or the plagues of Egypt. He often just removes His grace (His “hedge of protection” if you like) and allows the person or nation to become a victim of its own folly.

He allows us to wallow in our own immorality. Sometimes, in fact, He dispatches deceptive spirits to hoodwink us–since we love deception so much, anyway. In our subsequent moral meltdown we completely expose ourselves to treasonous forces within us, and ravenous enemies from without.islam

This is what we now face, America.

I’m not sure how much longer your coincidence theory, normalcy bias and other forms of self-delusion will even be possible. (Long enough for most of you to dismiss me as a crackpot, fearmonger and/or religious fanatic, of course.) I am convinced it won’t be much longer.

The USA may still be called by the same name. Might still have the same flag. Might retain some of the ostensible trappings to pacify useful idiots. But the constitutional republic we have taken for granted will be gone.

Those of you who survive the coming hope and change may find your options somewhat limited.
Those of you who survive the coming hope and change may find your options somewhat limited.

Your only hope is in the God of the universe, and in His anointed (that is, the Messiah who came clothed in human flesh, whose name was given as Yeshua, or Jesus, and who will one day return to collect what He paid for on the cross).

Anything else you could trust in will soon be removed.

And He warned us these days were coming, by-the-way.

Just like the USA, the Earth and everything on it will one day pass away. But God is eternal and so is your soul. The decision you make regarding Him is the most important you will ever make. It will determine your fate in the next world: eternal life; or the second death.

Choose now, and choose wisely.

Race-Baiting is “Divide and Conquer”

17

D MINUS 53

JACKSONVILLE, FLORIDA

This was BS duty. Jake McCallum trained his team for direct action. That’s what their purpose was. And yet here they were in a rented storefront doing flunky work that the local cops were more than capable of.

Local cops were there. And state troopers. So were the U.S. Marshalls and reps from competing federal agencies. Mac’s boss had played up this assignment as a “joint task force” operation that faced a significant threat. The threat level was exposed for what it really was when they were told they wouldn’t need helmets, armor or rifles.

In this little store front meeting room, local police and federal agents were busy collecting information from outraged members of a group that had been circulating a petition for secession. The perps were forced to surrender their wallets and let the agents go through their I.D., insurance cards, credit cards, cash and other personal items. Cellphones were confiscated and checked. They were grilled regarding places of employment, aliases, alternate addresses, friends and relatives. While local and federal agents recorded information on them, the group members protested, but were obviously not going to offer any violent resistance.

When Mac remarked about this bogus operation, his boss told him it was a sort of quid-pro-quo job. They relied on the NSA’s intelligence database for some of their raids. It was a good idea to pay the NSA back once in a while with this kind of hands-on data mining that couldn’t be accomplished online when the DomTers didn’t advertise their personal and group information on social media.

On first glance none of these group members looked like domestic terrorists. They were all middle class; most were middle aged; they were dressed conservatively and practiced good personal hygiene. And they weren’t all white. Mac couldn’t imagine them carrying bombs or rifles. But they sure were carrying dangerous ideas around.

Still, Mac’s men would be better employed against somebody who did look, smell, and act more like a terrorist.

While his men helped interrogate the people in the store front, Mac’s mind wandered back over the few operations he’d led since taking over this team. He cringed upon remembering he’d have to write the report for the last operation.

Mac had been putting this off, because he didn’t want to deal with it and wasn’t sure how to spin it: The raid on the Tasper house in Texas had been carried out with clockwork precision–his experience as an operator had finely honed his ability to organize and lead such missions. Trouble was, the intelligence was faulty. After busting in the door at 0300, rounding up the family for questioning, and cracking the gun safe, they found nothing illegal. At least nothing currently illegal.

Mac’s boss had offered to “season” the site. Plant evidence, in other words, so Mac would be credited with a good bust for his efforts, at least. This was something else that bothered him, but he’d give it more thought later when he’d dealt with other matters.

Other matters like one of his shooters: Samuels.

It was bad enough the operation was all for nothing, but Samuels had to stomp a baby kitten to death in the little girl’s bedroom. The Tasper family was complaining about that to their representative more than about the damage to their house. How was he going to explain that incident in the report?

Mac’s tablet beeped to warn him of an incoming file. He stepped outside through the back door to look it over.

Another Contingency Profile from Domestic Intel. He opened it and began reading about Gary Fram, whose profile raised just about every red flag there was to raise. Mac studied the satellite and street-level images of Fram’s house. Within a few moments he had decided which SOP, with what modifications, would work best for a home raid. He’d drafted enough of these contingencies that he could get the basic plan spelled out succinctly, to be adjusted further in the future, according to situation, policy, or team assigned, if a raid was greenlighted. But before he finished drafting a contingency for the profile, his phone rang.

He recognized the incoming number as one of Jeffries’. “Yo, what’s up DeAngelo?”

“What’s goin’ on, my brotha. Hey, I’m in the neighborhood, man. You wanna get some chicken wings?”

Mac checked the time. He hadn’t eaten for quite a while and realized he was famished. “That sounds like a plan,” he said. His team really didn’t need his supervision to finish this data mining flunky work.

The local Hooters was packed every night, but at that time of day they had it mostly to themselves. Their redhead waitress was about a seven, but would probably only rank a five without the makeup, push-up bra and short shorts. They ordered beer and the hottest wings available.

“So how you settling in?” DeAngelo asked, dipping his first wing in dressing.

Mac nodded, tearing a hunk of meat off a wing with his teeth. After swallowing, he said, “I’m getting the hang of it.”

“From what I hear, you’ve got the planning thing down,” DeAngelo said.

It was good to know somebody appreciated Mac’s ability. He wondered who DeAngelo knew in his chain of command to get this information, though.

“That’s good,” DeAngelo went on. “You gotta represent, Mac. You’re the only brotha up in there. Make us look good and they may hire some more of us.”

“How is it where you work?” Mac asked.

“A lot like major league baseball–it’s mostly a white show, with a few of us token niggas so they can say they’re not prejudiced.”

“The few, the proud, the nappy,” Mac remarked, and they both grinned around their spicy chicken meat.

The waitress came by to check on them and replenish their beer. Both men watched her little white booty as she walked away. Mac couldn’t help wondering what she’d be like. He’d heard a lot of comments about how crazy redheads could be. Crazier than white chicks in general.

Mac sobered up quickly, though, when he remembered Samuels. “You ever had to deal with a shooter who pushed things just a bit too far?”

“What’s up, man?” DeAngelo asked.

Mac told him about the kitten-stomping incident. DeAngelo listened, then shrugged.

“He’s just being a white boy,” DeAngelo said. “Half of them are psychopaths, man. If they weren’t working for the government, they’d be serial killers or something. Did you hear what happened in Texas?”

Mac shook his head. He’d been too busy to check the news.

DeAngelo frowned, his eyes flashing something dangerous for an instant. “More white cops, man. Pulled this brotha over for nothin’. Drag this brotha out his car and beat him to death right there, man.”

“What set them off?” Mac asked.

“Drivin’ While Black,” DeAngelo said, shrugging. “They’re tryin’ to say he didn’t have insurance, and that he attacked them first. Six different cops, man. There’s video going viral, though. He didn’t try to defend himself until they started beatin’ on him.”

Mac immediately thought of Eric Garner and grew infuriated. “This is too much, man. How far are they gonna try to push us?”

DeAngelo shook his head slowly, with a hard scowl. “I’m tellin’ you: local police are nearly as bad as the Constitutionalists. And state police ain’t much better. All those good ol’ boy networks, man. You’d think they’d be extinct by now, but they’re gettin’ even stronger. It’s all gonna come to a bum rush one of these days.”

Every time they talked, DeAngelo sounded a little more militant in his worldview, but that matched Mac’s own evolving mindset. White people’s media and entertainment might be getting ostensibly more sensitive and diversified all the time; but at the same time there were more and more bloggers, blog followers and social media participants sounding less sensitive and more separatist. Their boldness grew daily as they railed about the decline of western civilization. They called African-Americans “feral,” referred to mixed relationships as “mudsharking,” talked about Caucasian heritage like it was something to be proud of, and even used the phrase “white supremacy.”

“You think it’s any better at the federal level?” Mac asked.

DeAngelo swigged some beer down and made a face. “It’s a white man’s world over here. America is racist–no way around that.”

Mac nodded. “I’m the Jackie Robinson where I am, seems like.”

“Not even that, my brotha,” DeAngelo said. “You’re a Buck. I’m a Tom. At least that’s how The Man sees us. They talk a lot of shit about equality and all that, but when it comes down to drawing lines, they’ll side with their own. You and me are useful to them for now, but we’ll just be another couple niggas to them eventually.”

Mac licked buffalo sauce off his huge fingers, then stared at the texture of the skin on a drumstick while forming his words. “You hint around a lot that something big is coming down, racially. You know something I don’t?”

DeAngelo sighed. “Off the record?”

Mac held his hands out and raised his eyebrows. “Just you and me talking, man.”

“These cats like Sharpton and Jackson are a joke,” DeAngelo said. “Nearly everybody knows it. They ain’t done a damn thing for black folks, except make Whitey hate us even more. It’s like two gangs getting ready to rumble out there, man. Actually more than that—the Spics already outnumber us, and it’s gettin’ worse every day. But imagine something like Baltimore or Ferguson, only nationwide, and our people actually throw down this time. Meanwhile, Whitey is thinkin’ if he can’t have us for slaves anymore, he should either kill us off or send us back to Africa.”

“Race war,” Mac said. “You think it’s gonna come to that?”

“Oh, I know it is,” DeAngelo replied, solemnly. “And like I said, we may not just be fightin’ the whites. Might be a three-way fight with them and the Spics…or they may gang up on us. And that ain’t even puttin’ the Asians in the equation. You know there’s never been any love lost between us and the Slopes, man. They’ll most likely side with Whitey, too.”

Mac let this sink in. It was a lot to process. He knew there would always be rednecks, and some degree of white privilege, but had always assumed life would continue on pretty much as it was. Or, if anything, get better. They had finally gotten one of their own people in the White House, after all. For two terms. But DeAngelo talked about a coming attempted genocide like it was a done deal.

“That’s one thing makes working with the feds an advantage,” DeAngelo said. “We’ll be able to see it coming a lot farther off than those poor brothas in the hood.”

“And then what?” Mac asked, the pitch of his voice raising.

“Again, off the record,” DeAngelo said, locking eyes with Mac.

Mac nodded.

“Me and some other brothas been gettin’ together. Nothin’ official, and still we’re careful about what we say and how we say it. But we all know there’s a day comin’ when we’ll have to look out for each other, y’know? Mutual protection.”

Yes, Mac decided, that was smart thinking. It wasn’t just a good idea—if what DeAngelo said was true, it would prove to be a necessity.

“Hey, you know the circumstances we met under,” DeAngelo said, shrugging. “Like it or not, I know all about your background. And because I know it, I know we could use a brotha like you, when it all goes down.”

DeAngelo was inviting Mac into some kind of clandestine brotherhood within clandestine agencies. One that might make all the difference in the survival of their race in North America.

Mac had made friends in SF, in Delta and as a contractor. Some of those friends were black; some were other minorities; some were white. But he lost touch with most of them and gave up on the rest as politics became a more and more powerful influence in everyone’s life. You just couldn’t agree to disagree anymore.

In Iraq the man he trusted most was Leon Campbell. But Leon got out of the contracting biz, went back to the States and started a business with friends. Mac had other guys in SSI he got along with–some who he’d even dodged bullets and eaten dirt with. But none of them knew what it was like to be black. They never would–and probably didn’t want to.

DeAngelo knew. And he was in touch with others who knew. There was power in that.

“Give me a holla next time y’all get together,” Mac said.

 

###

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

###

The image link to False Flag (the entire book) is  on the upper right sidebar. You can watch the accompanying Youtube video here.

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Multi-Purpose Treason Part 2: Shovel-Ready Chaos

Last time I called out the massive illegal immigration fomented by the hijackers of the US government, and how it accomplishes more than one agenda item toward bringing down the American republic.

The Border Invasion overlaps with another globalist strategy.

Contrary to what you’ll likely hear from teachers, professors, and the Idiot Box, it was not the bureaucrats, politicians, and community organizers who made the USA the most prosperous nation in history. It was our (once) free market, and the entrepreneurs who took advantage of its opportunities to fill consumer needs and make an honest buck in the process.

You’d never know it now, but Americans used to produce things (besides debt, paperwork and porn, that is). We made the most of the industrial revolution and became the envy and marvel of the world. Even when wracked by the Great Depression, wise thinkers in Japan were leery of going to war against the sleeping industrial giant across the Pacific because, unlike now, the infrastructure was still in place to fire up a war machine any foreign enemy would be hard pressed to stop.

Of course regulations and taxes that favor foreign interests at the expense of Americans has utterly devastated US industry. And the industrial infrastructure that remained between the world wars is long gone, now.

So is the work force. Starting in the New Deal and encroaching gradually over the decades until its explosion under the Hussein Administration, a huge chunk of the American workforce has been transformed into able-bodied parasites who contribute nothing of worth to our society.

The buildup of the Entitlement Class (of which invaders/illegal immigrants are just one portion) also accomplishes more than one strategic objective for the enemies of America and your freedom.

First, of course, it has followed the Cloward-Piven model to bankrupt our economy. As our industry was strangled, the middle class decimated and the workforce shrunken, the welfare state has ballooned well past the point it can be sustained.

(This causes a conundrum for the traitors in Washington, because they want to see America destroyed; but the politicians always want to delay the collapse for one more election cycle. This has locked them into a vicious cycle of “quantitative easing” that they couldn’t get out of now even if they wanted to, and will make our collapse even more devastating.)

Secondly, entitlements are a way for the traitors to extort money from those of us who still work, and use it to buy votes from those who discover they don’t have to. By robbing Peter to pay Paul, the politicians can pose as generous, compassionate  benefactors…as if they were using their own money charitably instead of ours. Tax/Spend/Elect is a self-perpetuating dynamic ensuring the people who caused the problem will be able to keep making it worse. Parasites will knowingly vote for liars, crooks, and traitors as long as it guarantees their entitlement check.

Thirdly, it has destroyed the nuclear family in the inner cities, particularly among blacks, whose ensnarement on the poverty plantation is more effective than any whip-toting slave owner could have accomplished. They blame their poverty on Whitey or “the rich” and racial animosity abounds. Meanwhile, the remaining working-class whites resent them for their entitlements. It appears that a whole lot of whites are now blaming all the problems surrounding black culture on genetics alone. I’ve never heard white people display separatist attitudes in such numbers as they do now. Any hope of either side recognizing the actual cause of the problem is now lost, as they descend into stubborn tribalism.

Fourthly, this has created a powder keg. Entire generations have been programmed to not work for a living; and to…

  • rely on entitlements;
  • consider those handouts their god-given right;
  • hate anyone who objects to the entitlements;
  • hate America in general;
  • self-identify as victims who haven’t yet got their due.

When the economy collapses and the free handouts stop, these parasites won’t have a clue how to feed themselves. Their whole lives have taught them that the way to survive is to have somebody else (the IRS, so far) extort the earnings out of working people for their sustenance.

Starvation is a perfect catalyst to ignite the nationalism of the Victim Tribe, who will quickly find someone else to blame for the nightmare they brought on themselves.

The violent horror overtaking our major population centers is hard to conceive, and will probably go a long way toward the 90% population reduction of the  Agenda 21 architects.

Examine the M.O. of the criminals in government when small-scale violence has broken out in events like the Baltimore or L.A. riots, when police were held back intentionally to give rabble-rousers “room to destroy.”

The Man won’t step in right away to restore order. People will be given plenty of time to rip each other apart. Whoever survives will beg for some great leader to ride in on a white horse and bring order out of chaos. Peace at any cost. People will volunteer to be interned in camps, so long as they’ll be fed and sheltered.

As the general in Star Wars told his staff on the Death Star, “The last vestiges of the old Republic have been swept away.”

The last vestiges of individual freedom will be swept away–with popular support, I’m sure.

Can you guess who the scapegoat(s) will be?

Multi-Purpose Treason Part 1: Invasion, USA

Virtual Pulp was founded to sell books. That was the avenue we chose to pursue happiness and the American dream. But as that dream is fundamentally transformed into a nightmare, becoming successful novelists is a goal that pales in importance compared to the radical changes descending upon us.

Some may have noticed we’ve already been speaking out on controversial subjects more than we used to. We decided to use our freedom of speech while we still have it. Now, however we are kicking into overdrive. Book sales and diplomatic sugar-coating so as not to offend just don’t matter a whole lot in the face of the perfect storm our country, and the world, is facing.

Virtual Pulp is now the lantern hanging in the belfry of North Church. We might post something about entertainment or the culture war…but it’s no longer a priority. We will be warning anybody with the wisdom to listen about some of the trials coming your way. I have no interest in debates with coincidence theorists, concern trolls, or anyone trapped in their normalcy bias.

Multipurpose Treason is the S.O.P. for the interests that have hijacked our government. Most of the criminal policies foisted on us accomplish more than one objective of the globalist enemies of the USA.

Take illegal immigration, first:

The Establishment insists that American citizens have to be treated like criminals at airports and bus stations for our security against potential terrorists. Men, women, boys and girls must be fondled and groped by uniformed perverts because one of them might be carrying a bomb or box cutter. Meanwhile the border is intentionally left wide open so that not only drug lords, welfare parasites and violent Hispanic Supremacist armies can invade and infiltrate our cities, but Islamic terror cells, too. There’s no telling just how many and what kind of America-hating scum are flooding in by the train loads.

Well, the so-called Justice Department evidently knows, because they furnish some of them with weapons. The same kind of weapons they don’t want in the hands of law-abiding Americans, BTW.

Some of us have pointed to the rampant election fraud in 2012 and prior, and understand that the criminals in Washington are using this to build up their parasitic voter base into an ironclad majority which (along with dead voters, serial voters, rigged vote-counting, etc.) will ensure that their enemies can never, ever alter the national course away from the abyss of a socialist/fascist third-world police state. And we’re right.

But others point out that this invasion is kicking in the afterburner on the Cloward-Piven strategy to bankrupt the USA…and they are right, too. (This is just one of many methods converging to strike the death blow against our mortally wounded economy.)

But that’s not all. This invasion is setting up a “nation within a nation.” We are being forced to subsidize a seething alien population that will not assimilate (in fact, probably won’t even bother to learn our language), is hostile toward our form of government (the legitimate one, that is), covetous of our property and, in many cases, overtly dedicated to the reconquest of “Atzlan.”

That ties in directly to my next point, which I’ll get into next time.

Post-Apocalyptic 1960s

Somebody visiting the blog recommended this classic, and I’m glad they did.

The hero has a brother in the Air Force’s Strategic Air Command (SAC), and gets early warning of an impending nuclear war.

This novel was first published in 1959, so it’s very interesting that the atomic holocaust is triggered in the Middle East.

The hero and other characters live in a place called Fort Repose, Florida. (Either the place changed its name since then, or the author made it up; ’cause I can’t find it.) MacDill Air Force Base gets nuked and some other places, close enough to see the mushroom clouds. From then on it’s a struggle to keep the little community functioning and safe in the new world. Simple things like salt that we take for granted become a precious resource upon which your survival rests.

The author plays around a little bit with how the class/social hierarchy is shuffled around in a world ravaged by atomic war, but could have done a lot more.

It’s a nice little story, but mired in the myopia of perspective and the times in which it was written. The most tragic ASSumption made (which is perfectly understandable considering the time period) is that:

  1. the most serious threat to our nation is an external one, and…
  2. the cabal holding the reins of our government is truly interested in protecting the American people from such threats, or…
  3. looking out for the interests of the American people more than the interests of their fellow travelers in Europe, Asia and elsewhere.

Good entertainment, with a few pointers about rebuilding a society that hasn’t fallen nearly as far as ours will.

Federal Standoff was Recon By Fire

Bang, bang, bang! “Freeze, or I’ll shoot!”

A government sniper killed Vickie Weaver with her baby in her arms. This was during an attempt to murder the entire Weaver family because Randy Weaver refused to be an informant. Whatever Randy’s personal beliefs, this should have inspired a march on Washington with torches and pitchforks.

Not long after, an army of ATF goons, backed by FBI shooters, tanks and choppers, laid siege to a home and church with no probable cause for even a search warrant. The somewhat kooky religious people near Waco, Texas were burned to death for the crime of exercising their rights protected by the First and Second Amendment. The big crime committed there–according to the government/media complex–is that a few of the victims had the audacity to shoot back when masked men in combat gear began destroying their property and killing their friends and family.

The EPA, BLM, IRS and other out-of-control Gestapo agencies have been bulldozing through the inalienable rights of American citizens for a few decades, using some ridiculous excuses to do so. In recent memory, the BLM and other jackbooted federal thugs attempted to intimidate the last surviving ranching family in the Moapa Valley into giving up the grazing rights they’ve had for a century and a half. The feds rustled Bundy’s cattle, destroyed his irrigation during calving season, and prepared to attack the men, women and children who owned the cattle.

But Bundy didn’t back down, and Americans from all over the region showed up to face off with the Nuremburg Rangers. You could call it a line in the sand.

Amazingly, the feds backed down. There are a number of possible reasons. One is that if shots were fired in anger, it might very well have turned our Cold Civil War hot, and The Man wasn’t perfectly pre-positioned for it at that moment of time.

But the All-Seeing Eye was tracking every single individual who showed up to stand with the besieged rancher. You can bet every single one of them is now high up on the threat list for “domestic terrorism” at the Utah Data Center and elsewhere. Such individuals will be the very first targets in extraction operations like the ones being practiced as a part of Jade Helm ’15.

So, in 4GW terms, you could consider the Bundy Ranch standoff as a probe. Specifically, a recon-by-fire.

14

D MINUS 65

NSA DATA CENTER

CAMP WILLIAMS, UTAH

Justin yawned, checked the time, and turned back to his monitor. He’d been at it for 12 hours so far today. He’d put in a couple more before calling it quits for the night.

The room he sat in was crowded with computers, separated by small cubicles. There were ten tired, uncomfortable people in there, all trying to maintain enthusiasm for this project despite the long hours.

Justin closed the file he had just completed and went back to Surveillance Photo 18F-5 from the Garber Ranch. Several more zones of the photo had been grayed out since he last looked at it. He moved his cursor over an active zone and clicked on it. The zone grew to fill his screen, and he zoomed in on the little Ford Ranger parked on the side of the road. He kept zooming closer until he could make out the license plate, then split his screen to open the Motor Vehicle database.

“We got any more coffee?” asked Barnes, from the adjacent cubicle.

“Had about half a pot left an hour ago,” Justin replied, checking the blackened bottom of his styrofoam cup to ensure his last dose hadn’t magically reappeared.

“Which means it’s empty again, and I’ll be the one who has to fill it,” Barnes complained. “You’d think they could get us one of those fancy machines where you just slide a packet in, push a button and it gives you espresso, coffee, cappuccino or whatever.”

“They spent all the money on these work stations,” Justin said.

Frawley, the green-eyed blonde in the cubicle to his right, rolled back in her chair and asked, “Did you hear the latest about that defensive back at Miami?”

Justin shook his head. “I don’t follow football that much anymore.”

Frawley looked almost hurt. “But…”

Tench, the short brassy-haired black woman in the cubicle to his left, rolled back and said, “I thought you were a wide receiver for UCLA.”

“Tight end,” he corrected. “But I’m done with football.”

Justin’s love for the game had been cooling for a while even before his back injury during senior year. It had cooled even more in recent years.

“You shoulda’ stuck with that,” Tench said. “You coulda’ been makin’ big money.”

“You’re still in terrific shape, too,” Frawley said. “Most guys put on a lot of weight after they stop playing.”

“That’s Ex-Jock Syndrome,” Justin said. “Guys who try to bulk up or trim down for their position ruin their metabolism. I never did that.”

“So I guess you wouldn’t be interested in joining a fantasy league,” Frawley said.

“No. But thanks anyway,” Justin said. His co-workers rolled their chairs back into their cubicles.

He ran the license plates through the database, pulling up the name and address of the person who registered the Ford Ranger. The owner had driven across two states to join the DomTers at Chapanee. Justin initiated a new file and began filling in the details.

First he checked for a criminal record. There was none. Some speeding tickets when the DomTer was a teenager, and an accident report filed 15 years ago made up the only entries on the rap sheet.

He looked up the DomTer’s cellphone number and flagged it for monitoring and tracking.

Next he checked for prior military service. The DomTer, Gary Fram, served in the Army, in the combat arms. That moved him up the danger scale quite a few notches.

Justin looked over his medical records and filled in the requests for peripheral checks of his wife and children. He shifted to Fram’s financial history and status, and confirmed his political affiliation by voter registration. The man’s voting history started out typically sporadic, then he became a hell-or-high-water voter for several years. But he quit voting altogether after 2012. This would flag his profile as an extreme risk.

For variety’s sake, Justin investigated his public library habits next. (Normally he put this off for later in the process, but switching around the routine helped relieve some of the monotony.) Several books checked out on the American Revolution, the Constitution, the Federal Reserve, and various survival topics all fit the profile and confirmed the risk level.

He ran the man’s identifiers through the firearm sales database. Though this database was far from complete, it still showed a rifle and shotgun purchase, along with several ammunition purchases. The caliber of the ammo purchased indicated at least two additional weapons owned.

Only then did Justin begin poring through Fram’s email, search engine and social networking history. This was the most tedious, time consuming portion of any profile. It generated anywhere from dozens to hundreds of peripheral requests for profiles of potential accomplices, but the intelligence rewards were too juicy to pass up.

Fram hadn’t said anything that could yet be construed to suggest criminal intent, but his wife posted pictures on Facebook of him posing with a couple different weapons which did not show up on the firearm sales search.

Justin still had a long way to go on the social networking history when time came to go home. He would have to continue that tomorrow. He estimated that it would take another day and a half before he could wrap up with an analysis of the DomTer’s home, based on satellite and street-level images from Google. Only after all that was complete could the DomTer’s residence be more thoroughly investigated via thermal imaging, ground-penetrating radar and other methods available by satellite or U.A.V…assuming he or his wife hadn’t bought into DropCam or some other service that installed cameras inside their home, which would make everything easier.

Justin began shutting down and gathering his stuff.

“You calling it a day?” Barnes asked.

“Yeah,” Justin said, logging out of succeeding security layers. “My eyes are burning. Guess I’ll be back in about 10, 12 hours.”

“You know what we’re doing here, right?” Barnes asked, rising to his feet and hurrying around the cubicle row to where Justin stood.

Justin shrugged, not sure what his co-worker was driving at. But no doubt Barnes would do his best to enlighten him, whether the enlightenment was welcome or not.

“It’s like ‘reconnaissance by fire’,” Barnes said, grinning at the opportunity to share his theory. He was retired Air Force, and looked for the military angle in everything. “You know those old fashioned wars…infantry attacking defensive positions and all that. Well, what you do is send a heavy patrol out at night and make contact, but just to harass—not to try overrunning the position or anything. The defenders open fire, and you take note of how their defenses are laid out–where their machineguns are; mortars, artillery; whatever. And which parts of the perimeter are only defended by riflemen. Then when you’re ready to attack, you knock out their heavy weapons first, then hit them where they’re weakest. Of course today you don’t have to do that because we got satellite intelligence and so forth, but you get the idea: we’re probing the DomTers to find their strong and weak links.”

“You think we intended to back down from the standoff all along?” Justin asked, incredulous.

“Well, the whole operation may have been part test balloon,” Barnes said. “If that old cowboy prick had been reasonable, we’d have just moved on and taken care of business. But these DomTers are feeling their oats. They think they won’t get a spanking–or that it won’t hurt that much. So we’ll let them go on thinking that, while we just pin down where all their assets are.”

“I wonder why we don’t spend this level of effort on the folks swarming across the southern border,” Justin wondered aloud. “I mean, Domestic Terrorists aren’t the only threat we have to worry about.”

Barnes frowned, shrugged, and headed back to the coffee maker.

Justin left the “data mine” and exited through a series of security checkpoints until he finally made it outside the building. On the way to his car, he considered his short conversation with Barnes. He hoped he hadn’t come off as critical, or the Department might decide he had tendencies that were sympathetic to the enemy.

The enemy.

It should be bizarre thinking of American citizens that way, but Justin was getting used to it. It kind of bothered him at first when reading department memorandums gave him the impression that a civil war was expected by his bosses, and their bosses. Mainstream culture was clueless that anyone even considered it possible. Yet in the minds of many intelligence professionals, it was a done deal.

Justin remembered enough world history to know that evolution of a state and its culture was inevitable. The great empires all lasted approximately 200 years before corruption ate them away from the inside, or weakened them enough to be toppled by external forces. That meant the United States of America was on borrowed time anyway.

At least his job was secure. In the emerging global order his kind of work would always be in demand.

 

 

###

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

###

The link to False Flag is also on the upper right sidebar. You can watch the accompanying Youtube video here.

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INDEPENDENCE DAY (Up Yours, New World Order.)

It’s pretty sad what has happened to our holidays. Thanksgiving has become Turkey Day; Christmas is now Santa Clause Day, and the Fourth of July has become Fireworks Day. This loss of our American (Judeo-Christian)  heritage was well underway by the time I was born, but I at least had the opportunity to educate myself.

For the record, the American Revolution did not begin with the signing of the Declaration of Independence on July 4, 1776. Nor did it start at the Boston Tea Party. The war began at Concord Bridge on April 19, 1775, when “right-wing extremists” opposed the forces of offshore interests who came to enforce “gun control” and disarm the militia.

This project was conceived as a book trailer for Henry Brown’s apocalyptic novel False Flag. The plan was to use the KISS principle (keep it simple, stupid). Just a quick 30 seconds and out.

Trouble was, after 30 seconds, Wagner’s Death of Siegfried just refused to be faded down. The music causes shivers and goose bumps, and demands to be played through to the end. Whatever Wagner’s personal ideology was, the man was one helluva composer.

Then the pendulum swung in the opposite direction on the project–enormous sequences based on the Bill of Rights, and montages contrasting Norman Rockwell’s America with what we have now…it was a lot of work, and after spending most of a weekend editing, it was only becoming more ambitious.

The Voice of Reason spoke up, and most of those set-piece montages were scrapped. A couple rough spots remained but further revisions were forbidden and we got it uploaded.

Below is another ambitious sequence driven by a Wagner soundtrack…but with a slightly (cough!) bigger budget to work with:

As you’re watching the fireworks tonight, remember that the pretty rockets and aesthetic explosions were meant to remind us that our nation was forged in war. Our freedom was not handed to our forefathers on a platter, as it was to us. It was not cheap. The liberty we have taken for granted was purchased with human blood.

Because we have taken it for granted, it is being stripped from us as I write this. At this late hour, it will not be inexpensive to contest the matter.

What Gets a Cop Promoted?

Put simply: “Proactive” policing.

10

Y MINUS 20

SHREVEPORT, LOUISIANA

There was already a keg at Captain Taggart’s party when Trooper Macmillan arrived, dressed in a golf shirt and Levi Dockers.

Macmillan made the rounds. There were a lot of guys he didn’t get to see often because they were off when he was on, and vice-versa. There was also a fairly hot blonde and some other chicks present, mingling. He would have to check them out before long.

He got absorbed in a story Trooper Beale was telling about catching two queers going at it at a rest stop. Everybody laughed themselves silly. Then when the story was over, they got in a competition over who could tell the funniest faggot jokes. Macmillan had a few that got everybody howling.

He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to find Captain Taggart, in a loud Hawaiian shirt and shorts, holding a beer.

“Let me have a word with you, Macmillan,” the Captain said.

Macmillan followed him around the swimming pool, past the tool shed to the corner of the wooden privacy fence surrounding the back yard. His mind churned through possible reasons for this special attention. He decided it must be about the Texan he’d left on the side of the highway with a dead battery. The civilian must have complained. Somebody looked the citation up, found he’d been pulled over for tinted windows, and decided Macmillan had gone too far this time. Macmillan kept his cool and began formulating a probable cause story in his mind to justify the traffic stop.

The captain faced him and asked him a few questions about if he was enjoying the cookout and so forth. Then he said, “I’ve been looking over your productivity, and you’ve been exceptional, Jason. Just exceptional. You’ve been consistently proactive since you’ve been on patrol.”

This didn’t sound so bad. Maybe Taggart was praising him as a preamble to warning him to dial it down a notch, after the battery guy from Texas.

“When I pull a trooper aside for a one-on-one,” Taggart said, smiling faintly, “it’s usually one of two reasons. One is if he’s not being proactive enough. I give him the usual talk about how each trooper should generate enough revenue to pay his own salary, and all that.” He paused to chuckle, slapping Macmillan on the shoulder. “That’s not the problem here, Jason, so don’t worry. The other reason is to feel somebody out for possible promotion. That doesn’t happen nearly as often. Both of those take place on duty, when we’re in uniform.”

“Is this job-related?” Macmillan asked, confused.

Taggart took a conspiratorial look around. “Yeah. In a way. There’s this program…” He paused to purse his lips for a moment. “Every so often, federal law enforcement takes a look at the Highway Patrol in different states. What they like about state and local police is that you’re proven on the job. You’ve got a track record already; you’ve been screened for medical and all the other stuff. So they come down and look over entrance exams, psych profiles, interview transcripts and notes, performance reviews and the whole nine yards. Well, this time you were one of the troopers they took an interest in. A short list of badge numbers got handed to me and they’re waiting on me to pick who I think the best candidate is. I don’t know if I’m the tiebreaker vote or exactly how much weight they’ll give my recommendation. I’ve never been in this position before.”

Macmillan mulled this over. He wasn’t in trouble at all.

I’d hate to lose you,” Taggart went on, “but I wouldn’t want to deny you the opportunity, either. Think you might be interested?”

“Yeah. I would,” Macmillan said. His strict enforcement was getting him rewarded, not punished!

“It’s a bigger pond,” Taggart said. “Probably harder to get noticed. But then there’s probably a lot more avenues to advancement than here, too.”

“Sounds great,” Macmillan said.

“Word to the wise, though,” Taggart said, expression and tone now turning a bit stern. “The Feds are really touchy about all this diversity stuff. The big thing right now is sexual orientation. You have to kind of jump on the band wagon. They don’t tolerate homophobia and they don’t play around when it comes to that.”

It only took Macmillan a moment to make the adjustment. “Consider me an advocate, then.”

Macmillan would march in the next Gay Pride parade, if necessary. For this opportunity, giving somebody a blowjob wasn’t even completely out of the question.

“And of course it’s the same for women and coloreds,” Taggart said.

“I love niggers, sir. And I was just thinking we need more women on the State Police.”

They both shared a good laugh.

###

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

###

The link to False Flag is also on the upper right sidebar.

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