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On-Target

30 June 2024


Sometimes it’s hard to stay on-target, what with the inevitable occurring in my nation, and so much brou-ha-ha about what is happening, and what is not happening, and why it’s happening, and why it’s not happening, and why it has, or hasn’t, happened before, and why you need to listen to ME to explain this Sudden (but Sponsored) Turn-of-Events. . .

 

That’s been set into motion for decades.

 

I am neither apathetic nor cynical about the crimes being committed in America, all in the name of saving America from the very criminals engaged in the perfidious acts of destroying it.


Nor am I dispirited or despondent about the bottom-feeders of my country who have risen to the top of the political pond scum, and are not going down, or away, without a super-sized payoff for all of their years of treason.


When the Media of any nation fail to do their Constitutionally-protected job; and when the Elected Politicians are craven narcissists; and when major portions of the Electorate, for decades, drop out of the smelly system called Democracy within a Constitutional Republic; and when, at the same time, the foulest portions of a loud and lewd tribal-electorate overwhelm — swamp — the D.C. Tidal Basin — for 30-40 years:

 

The target is freedom.  The victim is freedom.  The victims are the patriots.  And the clean-up crew to attain, and regain, a free and safe America is gonna have to number in the millions, at least 81 or so.  Most likely, closer to 100 millions of newly-minted freedom-loving Americans are needed for this rebel mission that I call the Reclamation of America for Americans.


The current hellacious chaos on the bloody, sin-stained hands of the traitors of this nation didn’t happen during the past 4 years, or 10 years, or even 20 years.  This ginormous heap of stinking institutional garbage in the city, county, state, and federal governments of the USA has been a public-works project that started before I was born.  That long-ago era witnessed the birth of the Baby Boomers.  And that group saddled itself with a label, one that is well-earned, of Spoiled Brats.

 

Those Spoiled Brats did not populate the entire generation but, as is the case with generalizations and stereotypes, the bigger chunk got to dominate, drown out, define, and control the entire blob.

 

We’re watching the final portions of that blob leave the snake.  Taint a purty sight.


I firmly believe that from chaos comes order; and from evil is born good.  I wrote a two-volume novel on that theme!  And my first novel, NORTHSTAR, covers the nut on a lying, cheating, fabricating State Senator who meets with a fitting end!

 

The Blob of USA-Hating-Hippie-Boomers, unwittingly, were forced to yield, in terms of numbers, to the majority of newer generations of Americans who love the USA.  These patriots, of a truly New Age, despise those aging Hippie Hypocrites, of their faux-New-Age, because of the treacherous, turncoat, Coat-and-Tie Radicals that they have always been:  lazy, corrupted, rotten-apple phonies and frauds who salute the American flag in public, and spit on it in private.

 

It’s been a bummer for those self-indulgent swine of Aquarius, a bad trip on their highway to the nirvana that never existed.  But the advertisers and marketers, all the way from tee-shirts to election sound-bites, slavishly devoted themselves to conning this massive group of followers into following the latest trend, the new-and-hip thing, the lingo that everyone-else was using, and the ever-divisive group-politics that most surely took over The Politics of the Fruited Plain.


The group-identity flimflam has become tribalized into too many tic-tac slices of a putrid-payola-pie.  The Elected, Installed, and Behind-the-Scenes Enablers of Evil are currently cannibalizing.  The menu is not entirely vegan-approved, and no one at these taking-tables is saying Grace before the panicked, head-hunter feeding-frenzy begins.

 

These are not fine young cannibals on display on the World Stage.

 

They’re feeble old cannibals, propped up by the media-propagandists and by the feckless monied-men and women, the hidden Benedict Arnolds who pull the strings of the latest stooge.  This endgame is almost a miracle and, therefore, for me, the hand of God has been at work in this frightfully sad fate, and state of affairs in my beloved homeland:

 

The official feeble old farts didn’t get replaced by newer versions of themselves.

 

I am heartened by that salient reality.  The same old, old dinosaurs remained at the taxpayer-trough for too long because not enough younger bumper-crops of ballot-seizing criminals materialized to supplant them.


Maybe the youngins saw something, saw many things, that my peer group didn’t see, or wouldn’t see, or couldn’t see, so absorbed with themselves, and so obsessed with materialism were they.  For, you see, I came of age, and most unwillingly had to rub elbows with, the spoiled brats of my own age group who wanted to be just like the Boomers.  They were so intent on the emptying of their own God-given souls that they looked to the Hippies as role models!

 

While the majority of my peers were lock-step plugged into Jimmy Page and Led Zeppelin (and I just had to search-engine-check the spellings and accuracy of this guitarist, and verify that he was a member of this appalling rock group) — I was busy listening to Patty Page, the Mills Brothers, and Gordon MacRae.

 

With a measurable measure of delight, I learned in my teens how to rebel against my cohorts, molly-coddled loafers with whom I had very little in common.  I was more than fine with that scenario.  In 2008, when the time came for me to develop, or discover, my French Resistance hero, Guillaume de Vallon, I quickly discovered the development of my own self as an outsider within a group of conformists.


Guillaume, an ardent Gaullist and nobleman, had been a lone figure of French patriotism among his affluent aristocrat contemporaries, the successful businessmen — hommes d’affaires — who chose (flocked to) technocrat jobs and the Vichy Government immediately after the Fall of France in May 1940.

 

Much like the digital masters-of-the-universe, the 21st-century tekkies in the USA selling out the USA.

 

I suppose some individuals are born to this fate of being The Outsider. I am one of them.  I can tell you from punitive experience that the members of the group into which you’re supposed to fit, they do not ever forgive you the blasphemy of rejecting them — in favor of becoming who you were born to be.


Following your own star, against the odds, in spite of the spite thrown at you, and bearing with it by refusing to retaliate against the vicious punks who, in their own weakness, cannot abide the strength of any person — but, most of all — of a person of their own age:

 

Those deeds are on-target for any individual ardently yearning to fulfill her own destiny.  That mission is not for the faint-of-heart or the heartless.  Only the brave-hearts among us lead the way to the future of this American Century.

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