≡ Menu

OBEY! Ritual Public Humiliation is here. REJOICE!

Listen, damnit.

You are being transformed from a citizen to a resident to an inmate in the continental prison system known as the former USA.

You are already marked and in process.

And you had better realize that not a single damned politician or politician’s enforcer fears you in the way they must if you are to survive.

Prison rule #1: Never, ever let somebody make you his bitch.

via Let’s See If The Joisey Guys Are As Tough As They Claim | Western Rifle Shooters Association

Comments on this entry are closed.

  • ghostsniper May 21, 2020, 12:57 PM

    From the WRSA link:
    “Accelerant wetdown of responding officers without ignition; advise local cops that such is their last warning.”
    A pump-up 1 gal plastic garden sprayer filled with 91% alcohol.
    Glue the nozzle hole shut with gel superglue, then redrill the hole with a #0000 bit, will increase the jet distance to 30 feet or more.

  • Dan Patterson May 21, 2020, 1:37 PM

    The Confederates fired on Ft Sumter because it was understood they had separated from the United States and the US was occupying property against the will of the elected government; an act of willful aggression designed to provoke just that act. Other considerations aside the philosophical nutrition that gave the CSA vitality proved horribly wrong in practice but not in definition – the states’ interests were not represented federally and the region was a subject of the northern industrial demands. The southerner was a bitch to the northern bull and they would have no more of it.

    Separation in 1861 was a partition geographically and unless mass movements of people are undertaken such a thing is impossible today, and thankfully so, but the rebel spirit of refusal and independence does have a valuable quality and one that is resonant with liberty if we are to escape the morass we are stalled in. So no, I will not comply unless I decide it is a good idea. Those little arrows on the aisles are cute, and the infantile lectures and finger pointing of tyrant wannabe characters has worn thin, so no. Not no thank you. NO. Make all the proclamations from the “office of (X)” you want. The answer is no and “because I said so” might work on a 5 year-old but that’s not good enough so the answer is no. No one a local, state, and federal level. Represent me and my interests, pass a law by undertaking the required measures, but until then:
    The Constitution is silent on the formula of adhesive that holds the states together but it is a voluntary agreement to abide by the rules, the consent of the governed so to speak, that allows free people to navigate themselves through the short lives we have. I do not consent, I will not be made to pay fealty, and I will not behave as a second to the elite.
    Negotiation and debate can solve this matter, just as it could have in 1861, but only if all parties are willing to participate. And just like in 1861 all parties, so far, are not.

  • Lance de Boyle May 21, 2020, 3:06 PM

    That was very informative. Thanks.

  • Vanderleun May 21, 2020, 5:35 PM

    I’m just waiting to unload on the next Karen dumb enough to cross my path and open her yap.

  • jwm May 21, 2020, 9:05 PM

    This is one of PJW’s best.
    And I’m not altogether sure if I’m going to really want to tell this tale or not.I’m gonna just write, and see…
    The idea came to me while I was obsessing on the Lost Canyon Project. For over two years I was altogether too deeply committed to a task which had me inside the head of a madman. Stuff rubbed off on me. But somewhere in the midst of it I got the idea that, once the work was done I’d get up to the preserve in the Puente Hills, eat some fungus and, well, just see. Just see if I’d encounter his Spirit. Yesterday I did that. I got up early, and had a light breakfast. Drove up to the gate near where another old friend once lived, parked in the dirt, took down a fat gram, and walked into the canyon. I know the place very well. I’ve been hiking up there for over half a century. I made the steep descent into and out of Powder Canyon, and up to the crossroads.
    We’ve had both a wet Winter, and a cool Spring. The hills in So Cal are lush, and green. It was cool and shady in the early morning. Wildflowers bloomed everywhere. The air was thick with the smell of sage. I saw a coyote trot across my path. Hawks were hunting in the sky, gophers poked their reddish-brown heads out of their little tunnels. The clouds rolling and roiling in the deep blue morning. This is as good as it gets. So I headed down the dead end trail, stood under the powerline towers, and let the mushroom work its magic. My guy told me these were ridiculously strong, and he wasn’t kidding. By the time I reached the towers, time was spun out into nothing, and I was sinking deep, deep into the dreamlight. I don’t know how long I was there, but after a while I began to wander slowly slowly out of the dead end, and back to crossroad at the main trail. Stuff was getting heavy.
    The Puente hills separate the coastal plain to the south from the San Gabriel valley that extends north to the mountains. In the last two decades the San Gabriel valley has been thoroughly colonized by the Chinese. And as I reached the main trail through the canyon I began to see them. In pairs, and in families, and in small groups, they were legion. They are not a friendly lot. Every. single. one. masked up like they were visiting the ICU. Quickly I began to notice the paranoid stares, the quick retreat to the far side of the trail. At one point a couple scurried to the trail side, averted their faces, while the woman pulled the child close as if I were a psycho killer. And everyone of them dutifully wearing the mask of submission even though they were out in the wild.Suddenly the morning began to take on the quality of being caught in a lucid nightmare. Others were hiking as well. The white folk and the latinos were hiking and walking their dogs as well. But they weren’t masked, and they smiled and said good morning as they passed. But the masked zombies outnumbered. And with the shroom peaking up they began looking like faceless humanoids yammering in some incomprehensible tongue. Aliens, foreigners. Not my tribe, not my people. Maybe not my specie.
    But I reached a solitary place on a different part of the trail. I was now up a hundred feet above the valley, and the view was all in motion, everything pulsing with life. At the side of the trail I spotted a small red, white and brown bird, and recognized it from on of the paintings from The Lost Era Transcript. The painting is one of my favorites, “The wildlife lost today was common in the valley below.” This was the first time I had ever seen this bird in the wild. I said, “Thanks, Pete. I tried. I did my best.” For one infinitesimal flash I felt him there. The notion evaporated as soon as it appeared. But it happened.
    The peak was breaking, and I was feeling slow, heavy and very sleepy. It was a long tough hike back to the truck, and by now the zombies were everywhere.
    I made it home OK, and flopped out for the remainder of the day. But in the aftermath of the experience I now waver between the awe of a deeply transcendent event, and a visceral horror at the masked minions of TVPanic. That sense of being in a lucid nightmare lingers. It occurs to me. “You’re awake. This is real. It ain’t gonna stop…”


  • Dan Patterson May 22, 2020, 2:17 AM

    “Their roots can go no deeper than next month’s rent check”.
    Seems the original hippy movement had a point. Not the flaked out addled perversion than came on it’s heels, but the germ of the non-conformist personality that has sprouted and faded many times. Roots and the investment of spirit that makes a place home is altogether missing in many places in our country; one time I believe that concept would have been as unfamiliar to our countrymen as a talking dog but here we are. And yes, the unassimilated throngs look upon natives with distrust and disgust, mercantilists that they are to them everyone else is a threat. Maybe they should be.

    Gerard: Karen is unwittingly bait in a trap. Respond to her flailing huffery and we will likely soon encounter the white knights rushing to her rescue, often the po-leece (themselves a puzzling mix of bully and servant, trending lately toward tyrant) for she is among the bulging ranks of the protected class, don’t you see. So a more finely tuned combat might be wise. Like Lincoln at Ft. Sumter she is maneuvering you into a defensive response, and that will set in motion the very machinery we built to protect us from violence and oppression. But now it is tuned to overreact and miss the point entirely, except that to Karen and her defenders you are now the point you, you brute you. Maddening.

  • ghostsniper May 22, 2020, 4:26 AM

    The words you 2 have written are an inspiration. I sit here now, after having just read both of you, and wonder, “Is this our country any more?”.

    I think not.
    I have referred to this country many times as the USS America and using that reference again I ask my self, “At what point do you finally realize that it is all over? That the ship is really going down and there is nothing anyone can do about it?”

    You see the flood of water coming over the sides, you are standing in water up to your waist and even more comes in. You look around at the puzzled faces everywhere and realize it is every man for himself. The top of the gunwale drops below the surface and the water is up to your neck.

    The ship now weighs more than the water that used to support it and it continues downward as gravity dictates as you and everybody else treads water. Lots of panic, shouting, crying, confusion, as everyone clings to everyone else – virus be damned. A tiny molecule suddenly has no meaning in a full size life. Or death. Do you stay with the herd and tread water til you can’t no more? Or do you set off for a distant shore that you have faith is out there some where?

    You launch in any direction knowing not how this will end. Over and over you stroke above the black stygian depths. You ponder your fate and wonder many times, “Why didn’t I start this journey long ago before it reached the state of pandemonium?” “The signals were clear but I tried to ignore them, trying to have faith that things will some how magically work out. Nevermind that the diabolical minds that caused this apocalypse are still at the sinking helm holding their collective feet on the accelerator of doom. There was nothing to be done. There was nothing to save. The ship was diseased to the keel. It was past time for it to sink.”

    If you succumb to the depths you no worse than you were but the curtain has been pulled, the mask relieved, and you now see the cold hard truth. Everything you are, the sum of your years, is all that you have. No one else can save you. If saving is the goal it now resides inside you or it doesn’t exist at all. You live or die by your own efforts. As it should be.

    So the vision of a distant shore is in your head and there is less than a millionth of a chance you will be successful but those are the odds you have been tasked and that is the task you will work. Forward, every striving, ever striving as the past disappears in a gray fog of nothing….

  • Annie Rose May 22, 2020, 5:52 AM

    Greetings Comrades from the land of Illinois Proletariat. So I now have to get my news about the evil doings of our Governor and state legislators from outside sources, like the Gateway Pundit, because Illinois media keeps the peasants in the dark. This morning I read of a new legislation proposed just yesterday that would allow the governor to seize any private property deemed necessary for any reason:

    “(20 ILCS 3305/7) (from Ch. 127, par. 1057)
    Sec. 7. Emergency Powers of the Governor.

    (4) On behalf of this State to take possession of, and to acquire full title or a lesser specified interest in, any personal property as may be necessary to accomplish the objectives set forth in Section 2 of this Act, including: airplanes, automobiles, trucks, trailers, buses, and other vehicles; coal, oils, gasoline, and other fuels and means of propulsion; explosives, materials, equipment, and supplies; animals and livestock; feed and seed; food and provisions for humans and animals; clothing and bedding; and medicines and medical and surgical supplies; and to take possession of and for a limited period occupy and use any real estate necessary to accomplish those objectives; but only upon the undertaking by the State to pay just compensation therefor as in this Act provided, and then only under the following provisions:
    a. The Governor, or the person or persons as the Governor may authorize so to do, may forthwith take possession of property for and on behalf of the State; provided, however, that the Governor or persons shall

    SB3993 – 5 – LRB101 21409 CPF 72043 b

    simultaneously with the taking, deliver to the owner or his or her agent, if the identity of the owner or agency is known or readily ascertainable, a signed statement in writing, that shall include the name and address of the owner, the date and place of the taking, description of the property sufficient to identify it, a statement of interest in the property that is being so taken, and, if possible, a statement in writing, signed by the owner, setting forth the sum that he or 0 she is willing to accept as just compensation for the property or use. Whether or not the owner or agent is known or readily ascertainable, a true copy of the statement shall promptly be filed by the Governor or the person with the Director, who shall keep the docket of the statements. In cases where the sum that the owner is willing to accept as just compensation is less than $1,000, copies of the statements shall also be filed by the Director with, and shall be passed upon by an Emergency Management Claims Commission, consisting of 3 disinterested citizens who shall be appointed by the Governor, by and with the advice and consent of the Senate, within 20 days after the Governor’s declaration of a disaster, and if the sum fixed by them as just compensation be less than $1,000 and is accepted in writing by the owner, then the State Treasurer out of funds appropriated for these purposes, shall, upon certification thereof by the Emergency Management Claims Commission, cause the sum so certified forthwith to be paid to the owner. The Emergency Management Claims Commission is hereby given the power to issue appropriate subpoenas and to administer oaths to witnesses and shall keep appropriate minutes and other records of its actions upon and the disposition made of all claims.“

    Many dark thoughts lead me to ask: what are they anticipating is going to be happening with the masses? Everyone outside of Illinois is incredulous that the legislation was introduced by a Republican. But in Illinois we have always known that our so-called Republicans are just Dem-lites. They have to be to survive and get elected in a deep blue state. We deserve to get what we voted for. We fully deserve the boot that will soon be pressed down upon our willingly outstretched necks. The people in my area are sheeples. Yesterday an older woman tried to pick a fight with my husband at the grocery store by commenting about the canned vegetables and other survival food that he was buying to add to our supplies. “My but you’re buying a lot of food! So many cans!” She said it twice. He ignored her. Was he buying cases? No. Just 2 cans each of about five different vegetables/ fruits- about 10 cans. Yes, we have can shaming at the grocery store now. Imagine how bad it will soon get when there is very little food to buy.

  • Kevin in PA May 22, 2020, 7:06 AM

    Thanks a lot for sharing that trip. It’s been decades since I checked in and there are times when I have the urge but lack the desire to locate the goods. I always enjoyed that deep sense of clarity after….and yes, You are awake and this is real.

    I share you assessment. I have no fear. Just mostly disappointment and anger that the damn ship of state was run into the reef by crooked idiots who were more concerned with getting fat on everyone else’s dime than properly navigating the ship. These crooked idiots were, of course aided by powerful interests that care nothing for nations, borders, healthy society and wholesome families. And they were put into place by idiot voters who were terribly misinformed and lacked proper understanding of what this ship was and what it meant to be a member of the crew. Self-interest, greed and lust for power / control they all played their part.

    So, the ship has hit the rocks, is taking on water and listing. This does not mean that I must perish. It is every man for himself and the strong will survive. I will survive!

    As a child I used to think that old people were so cool. I mean really old, octogenarian and older. I thought it would interesting to live to be 101 years. To see so much history over the course of a century would be fascinating, I thought. After caring for my Mother in her final decade of life (84 to 94 years of age) I had changed my thinking on that. I thought, if this is what awaits – the frailty, the weakness, the lack of clear thinking, the loneliness of watching nearly everyone you’ve ever known die before you do….I thought, let me stroke-out at 75.

    Recent events have strangely switched my thinking again. Watching this circus of life, this parade of clowns, the devolution of what was a great nation and all that goes with that, has incited a perverse sense of voyeurism and I want to stay on the ride and observe how things shake out. I live in hope that when (if) I reach that goal of 101 I will still be lucid enough in my thinking that I can laugh at what happened. Smile that the communists unleashed a nasty plague and it resulted in their utter destruction. Breathe deeply the air of liberty after witnessing the traitors of the Davos crowd hung for their crimes. Grin from ear to ear that the experts knew nothing and demonstrated it for all the world to see. I want to go to my grave knowing it was real, I was awake and I survived to speak the truth of it.

  • james wilson May 22, 2020, 8:47 AM

    USSA, United Soviet States of America
    Democracy consists of intelligent sociopathic men directing unmarried women in selecting from the pool of sociopathic dullards wishing to become politicians, and, those trusting souls who would, like Charlie Brown, return every election to kick at the same football. This is called the oppostion.

  • James ONeil May 22, 2020, 8:52 AM

    OK, I suffered through the whole nine minutes and thirty eight seconds of the clowns and it did make me realize my anger and distaste for the new normal, Heinlein’s Crazy Years, this Brave New World, is entirely academic. The nation wide, world wide lockdown, send in the shock clowns, has had, is having no real effect on my day to day life up here on top of the world.

    I’ve been going wherever I want, finding whatever I needed in the stores or making what I need if I can’t find it.

    I’ve visited with friends, argued with adversaries and freely and openly shook hands with new acquaintances.

    Be they screeching Karens or jack booted thugs, I long ago established ways to assure they maintain an adequate social distance.

    If I wanted to get out of Alaska for any reason, why yes air travel has been restricted and I’d need a terribly good reason to decide to drive through SSR of Canada. However I’ve always had a plan B, and a plan C, though I must admit my plan G requires the cover of darkness.

    There are a few group social activities that I’ve enjoyed but I haven’t felt any sense of loss during their curtailment.

    Down the road a bit, since I’m at the end of a rather long supply chain, I admit I anticipate some rather large problems. I’m not really worried though, I do have a plan B

    and a plan G.

  • ghostsniper May 22, 2020, 10:15 AM

    Never forget that the people that are the most dangerous are the ones that are closest to you, in mind and in body. They are already inside the gate.

  • Vanderleun May 22, 2020, 10:34 AM

    Best comment stream in a long time.