A break from the battlefront…

While troops on foreign shores find themselves retiring back to their home places, although home will never be the same again, let us pause for a moment.

Isn’t it time we see what this century looks like 1000 years from now, all the gadgets for home automation examined again — no longer servo mechanisms, X10 controllers, serial ports or Zigbee radios — to determine the worth of automating that which has little utility served by joining the Internet of Things?

When do solutions chase problems that barely existed, if ever?

What is the value of remotely-controlled lights in a house when no one is home?

How many people find an Internet-connected refrigerator useful?

Haven’t we chased and captured these dreams over and over, from one generation to the next, at World’s Fairs/Expositions, EPCOT, and similar exhibits of an always-on future?

What are we really gaining here other than diminishing returns on markets with high margins but little interest?

In other words, we seven billion people are here together — shouldn’t we focus on…well, what should we focus on?

We sought peace in the midst of waging war “over there” and now that peace is nearly at hand, what are we going after next?

What do you want for your children and yourselves?

We shall move into the future and look back at the answers to some of these questions, tossing out the paranoia of uninformed/fearful citizens and showing you the positive aspects of a population that makes its own destiny rather than waiting to be told what its citizens should want, love, hate and fear.

In other words, we’ll let you own your guns and ammunition as long as you let us compete against you for the same manufacturing resources that can be used for guns, missiles or rockets in order to explore the cosmos.

What if…

What if a group of armed citizens set up a protective unit around James Yeager, the protective unit gets its own concentric circular layer of protection, etc., until every armed citizen was backed and protected by every other armed citizen?

Our subsubsubsubbasement supercomputer is having a lot of fun plotting out futures with this scenario in mind.

What if a security company, in order to promote its protective services, offered protection for James Yeager and his arsenal?

What about all the trained mercenaries who have nothing better to do with their time than go to shooting ranges and gun shows?

Would they be willing to take a stand in the name of James Yeager?

Where will the line in the sand be drawn?

What was that old colonial American revolutionary saying about standing together or falling one by one?

Where’s a good buffoonish plot ploy like Janet Reno at a time like this?

What have the enclaves like the Montana Freemen learned in protecting themselves for the last couple of decades?

Who will be the next David Koresh and his Waco followers dying at the hands of an overzealous government?

Vaccinated for diplomatic immunity

SO, here’s the story so far…

The Urbanki Bureaucracy, fearing its populace, has fallen right into the hands of the Ruralites’ plan to demonstrate they’re being oppressed by “The Man.”

How?!, you might ask.

Let us look at the recent facts in the storyline and tell you what could happen next.

First, paranoid suspicion of an indefinable entity such as a large bureaucracy is, like fear of the dark, a natural reaction by many.

The imagined hierarchy of bosses in a large corporation.

The terrible police and paramilitary troops that patrol your province, their faces hidden behind uniforms and equipment.

The social hierarchy and anarchy of insects that swarm in dark spaces underneath your domicile.

These fears are as inbred in us as any tribe isolated in the densest forest.

Where there is fear, there is also the chance for escape.

Let us take two data points from the same source, for an example.

Look at this guy, James Yeager, who exercised his free right to express himself but, the local state bureaucracy, so full of itself and fearful of its people all coming to the same conclusion, decides to take away the guy’s gun ownership permit.

Well, a funny thing happened on the way to the forum comments afterward.

James has many options.

First of all, the ACLU can step in to defend James’ rights.

Second, James can accept an offer from the “country” of NSK for immediate citizenship and a diplomatic position in its tiny bureaucracy, which leads to James having diplomatic immunity for ownership of his arsenal.

James might have to give up his U.S. citizenship and move his property into an estate or trust but…

Guess what!

As a martyred exile in his former country, James becomes a beacon of escape for his other oppressed patriots.

As more and more patriotic exiles join NSK for the sake of protecting themselves against the entrenched tyranny of bloated, overtaxing and indefinable bureaucracies, the NSK will be the first nongeographical country to declare war on a geographical country, opening up the door for the Inner Solar System Alliance to publicly announce its existence in order to declare all nonEarth territory offlimits to claims of ownership or protection by Earth-based bureaucracies, to prevent further land-based wars.

Wars based purely on ideology will continue unabated.

Meanwhile, a secret executive committee commissioned for consideration of calamities to cause after the next Urbanski Bureaucracy inauguration has released a preliminary agenda that shocked the pundits who were allowed to briefly glance at the agenda written in 2-point font.

From what they saw but cannot officially talk about, the Bureaucracy plans to incite the anger of the populace more and more and then, at the right moment, divert attention from itself by saying the primary goal of its first administrative term of office was to flush the LGBT and illegal immigrant community out into the open so that angry, armed citizens could easily identify these communities as causes for whatever problems the citizens believe are inflicted on them by the Bureaucracy.  The Bureaucracy will imply but not state that no harm will come to armed citizens if they take the law into their own hands for a brief time to eliminate the “cause of their problems” as long as it’s not directed directly at the Bureaucracy.

The Bureaucracy did not detail whether NSK citizens were included in the announcement.

One of the signals they will send to signify this brief window of opportunity will appear in the classified section of one of the few profitable newspapers still being printed in the U.S.:

“In The Loop” + “Salt” = “Falling Down”

Bunka, not bunko or bunco

Thanks to my sister, I now know the embroidery style that her mother in-law uses to create fascinating works of art:

BunkaCraft

I think the kits that her mother in-law used were called Matsuhato.

Which leads to the next thought.

In times past, battles were remembered by bards with ballads and seamstresses who sewed elaborate tapestries.

In the battles to come, let us remember our fallen warriors — whether under cyber attack or defending our physical freedoms — using Bunka or whatever means our warriors’ family, friends and supporters may have at hand.

Who amongst you will create the kits that will feature the flaming fields of war?

Who will sew the tartans to drape over the weapons newly-forged in Ruralite furnaces?

Who will create the sinewed covers for the field drums, whether made with animal skin or simulated on tablet PC screens?

My friends, it is too late for the war of words.

The battle cry has echoed in the hills and valleys, shook the shaky foundations of the once hallowed halls in Urbanski territory.

The trumpets of Jericho wait no longer!

TO ACTION!!!

Torus in the constellation of Taurus

Guinevere sat stomach-down on the semicircular sofa, legs bent at the knee, feet up in the air, propping her facial cheeks on her palms while she read a book.

Lee counted off the steps of a “paddle” dance.

The soft sound of filtered air tickled their ears, overcoming the pure silence of the near vacuum of space.

Lee blinked his eyes twice in rapid succession to turn on the comm system between the two of them.

“Whatcha readin’?”

Guinevere batted her eyes to turn on the voice simulator in her head.  “A book.”

“I can see that.  What is it?”

“Well, I was tired of mentally flipping through raw data.  I wanted something different, something that activated my tactile sensations.”

“Oh, I get it.  It’s a book.  But what is it?”

“The…what did they used to call it?  A 3D printer or replicator or something?  Anyone, the State Changer read my thoughts and reproduced a book, with real rough pages!, about a period of time and the mix of subcultures during that historic period.”

“You mean, before the Change?”

“Well, yes, of course.  What else did you mean?”

“So, what’s the title?”

“‘Globish.'”

“Huh?  Glibberish?”

“No.  ‘Globish.'”

“Glow fish?  I thought they were banned?”

“Artificial insertion of glow material was banned for a time, but glow fish which were genetically modified to emit low levels of lights have been perfectly acceptable for decades.”

“Yes, yes.  You and your constant attachment to the ISSA Net.  You know, there was a time when…”

Guinevere stood up and pretended to play an air violin.  “You were saying…?”

They both laughed.

“Oh, never mind.  Me and my old man speech.  So, what’s the book about?”

Guinevere shook her head.  “You’ve got dance practice, don’t you?  Why don’t you continue to practice and I’ll read my summary of the book, so far, into one of your memories for later retrieval?”

“Fantastic idea.  By the way, that’s a great outfit you have.  Where did you get it?”

“It’s what they call retro Star Trek — beige tunic and black slacks — all the rage in the colonies right now.”

As Guinevere rotated out of view in the toroid low-gravity inflatable “Bigelow Donut” of their tourist pod, Lee kept practicing the paddle moves in the zero-gravity dance sphere.

He wanted to show off his new moves at the charity ball in a few days, where funds were being raised to benefit people whose in-flight cyborg fusion surgeries had failed and were no longer considered viable members of Colony D#F3’s replacement crew, slated for recycling when they arrived at the docking station unless they had the labour/investment credits to pay for another attempt for a successful surgical procedure.

Although everyone knew someone who had been recycled and eventually found its reconstituted way back into society, there were more people who had been recycled whom no one had heard from again.

Meanwhile, in the adjoining tourist pod, Kathryn secretly practiced a new dance form never seen in public…

“As God is my witness…”

The year was 2013, the Year of the Underground Gunsmith Shop Revolution.

The rallying cry: “The West wasn’t won with a registered gun.”

Revolutionaries met in secret, creating their own version of the Underground Railroad, hiding from the tyrants of the Bureaucracy, following in the ghostly footsteps of the Prohibition Moonshiners.

The late-night hammering and pounding in front of DIY forges rang out in Ruralite territory.

After building their own weaponry and ammunition, members of the UGSR took the law into their own hands, hunting down the criminals themselves, dumping the bodies for all to see that no longer would the people, the REAL people, not the contented sheep in their flats, semi-Ds and McMansions, no longer would they let the weak and the mentally ill decide the fate of lawful gunowners.

The weak and the mentally ill who used to rely on random violence to give themselves a sense of purpose because they could not stand up to their own internal damnation or physical bullying by those mentally stronger than them would, no more, torture the innocent or make splashy headlines.

The land would soon be free of them and their filth.

Viva la Underground Gunsmith Shop Revolution!

Their logo — Charles Darwin calmly seated in a rattan chair, holding an AR-15 rifle in his hands, the weapon propped on top of a knee crossed over one leg, the motto written in bold type above his head: DARWIN SAYS, ” GO AHEAD…MAKE MY DAY!”

DARWIN SAYS

Take it from a former slave…

Anyone remember Epictetus, the Greek philosopher who was born a slave?

Well, his insights were ageless then and just as poignant now.

However, let’s all pretend that modern psychologists can justify their lofty professional salaries by polling the people and rewording the writing of ancient Greeks, as if there’s something new to be said:

“There is only one way to happiness and that is to cease worrying about things which are beyond the power or our will. ”
Epictetus

“Wealth consists not in having great possessions, but in having few wants.”
Epictetus

“First say to yourself what you would be;
and then do what you have to do.”
Epictetus

“Man is not worried by real problems so much as by his imagined anxieties about real problems”
Epictetus

Milking a book dry

And now, the rest of the story you’ve been waiting for…

“Gentlemen,” said General Eisehower to a roomful of reporters during World War II, “I know you’ve all been guessing where we’re going to attack next.  Well, I’m going to let you in on the secret.  Our next operation will be Italy, early in July.  General Patton will attack the southern beaches, General Montgomery the eastern.”

“General,” said one newsman, as the reporters gasped at the revelation, “if one of us leaked that plan, couldn’t it be disastrous?”

Ike nodded.  “The slightest hint in your stories will tip it off to German intelligence,” he said.  “But I’m not going to censor you fellows.  I’m just leaving it up to each man’s sense of responsibility.”

“Wow,” exclaimed one reporter, “what a dirty trick!”

But not a word of the operation leaked out.

— see previous blog entries for attribution, or not; from Battlefield President: Dwight D. Eisenhower (New York, 1967), page 11.