I perfectly understand your lack of trust in me. At least I can admit making one of the biggest mistakes of my life, even if I’m the only one who ever reads it, and in print: when the economic & political dominoes finally fell I was one of millions that didn’t technically “give-up” – I did worse. Back then I was one who, as a golden-oldie says, “…don’t know what you got ‘till it’s gone”. At the time I didn’t question, didn’t know the new Regime’s demands on us were even wrong.
At the time I still believed the mantra I’d been taught in the “free” school and at the “free” university. It went something like this: “Our Floundering Fathers, who art in D.C., give each one of us (in a politically-protected group) this day our daily-demands; take as much more in taxes as is needed to do so from each privileged-to-still-be-working stiff and lucky-to-not-need-bailouts-to-stay-open business, borrow the balance & print-on-demand; then protect us from the otherside’s evil anti-government vitriol until you finish magically-making our heavenly-utopia*-on-Earth or at least until all those tax-paying rubes finally decide to just-say-No! Whichever comes first. The End.”
Whether you believe what you read here or not will depend on several things, the most important among them being the particular ‘which’ of three specific timeframes you’re in when you’re reading it. What I mean is imagine you’all had read Jules Verne’s, From the Earth to the Moon the first day or year or decades it landed in the book shops. You’d have shaken your collective heads and muttered something about him being a foggy-notioned dreamer who obviously didn’t know enough about the real world of publishing to keep a normal reader’s attention. You might have further imagined he was left trying to appeal to the drug-addled. Then again imagine you were a kid in 1959 like my granddad was, reading any of that particular Frenchman’s novels securely under a light-obscuring tent of bedcovers. In that timeframe and only that one you’d have felt your heart racing with the great shared hope adventurers of all ages and from all Ages have had for a more-spectacular-Future they just know is awaiting them.
Finally, Dear Reader, put yourself in a 1969 timeframe and in a supposed-summer-of-love vintage pair of shoes and find yourself being handed that same tome. Been to the moon, done that. Yawn…See what I mean? So read on if you care. Determine whether this journal is being written simply for the bored or worse, the drug-addled, then again perhaps there is a God and through some twisting of the space-time-continuum this entry is in fact contemporary with some of the events related herein…only they’re happening in my America on my parallel Earth…or simply read it as those first readers of Verne’s read his works, as plain ‘ol fiction.
At times I waffle about even writing this. Kinda like a so-called Moderate would, back in the days of political parties and slippery concepts like so-called ‘hate-speech’ [Hate Speech = Vitriol (formerly known as Opinions – which magically go ‘bad’ when spoken by a political opponent)] were only just getting popular. Another of my waffles is between a fervent hope on the one hand that things really will change for the better (when I actually do get to ‘own’ something) and foggy-notioned fantasies on the other…that parallel worlds are possible and that you’ve been spared; or at least you aren’t a contemporary of mine, that you’ve found very ancient copies somehow. You know, found them somewhere down a rabbit hole in the great electronic wilds of the Future’s up-and-running-again access-for-all Infonet, in that glorious era after the rebirth of a new America from the shattered, scattered, liberty-loving remains.
I sure wish I knew right now – if that rebirth does happen – how those rebuilders of yours held on. I’m not that imaginative right now to envision the blood, sweat, and tears it would require. It’s something only they’ll be able to tell, that’s for sure: how they survived the lean and very mean years we’re in, with most of the lower-48 dominated by the new Regime or its Vichy-quislings.
For the record, once the Chiborg decided to be more than money-lenders lurking in the shadows and to get more hands-on, my generation made a second big mistake. We believed another of those divide and survive mantras: “Don’t trust anyone over 30”. Unlike our elders’ use of that saying, back in the 1960’s and 70’s, we just weren’t the ‘violent’ types they were – no rock throwing at cops, no bomb-making to blow Federal buildings for our ‘cause’. Nope. It was every girlie-man for his or herself. [Don’t let the earthiness of our ‘grunge’ fashions in the lead-up to this whole mess fool you. None of us (M or F) was about to ruin our nails or our cuticles doing much more than texting the latest personal gripe, philosophic insight, or meteorological experience. In our hurry to make all that ‘Love’ and live in that world full of Peace we forgot History 101. In our hurry we walked right over (too many even turned-in) our elders, our wisers, who might have saved us sooner.]
Can those who never gave in or never gave up to the Regime ever completely trust those once-again-liberated peoples (who did). Can or should the recently-liberated be trusted with positions of power in the new political communities? And if they can’t, what then can they be trusted with? These questions are really important because I’m hoping to be one of the recently-liberated. So, if you are reading this from within the Reborn America I repeat what I started with. I perfectly understand your lack of trust in me. At least I can admit making the biggest mistake of my life: I didn’t exactly give-up to the Chiborg’s regime – it was worse. I didn’t know what they’d demanded was even wrong.
* preferably a Utopia with SkittlesRTM-pooping unicorns.
Official movie “site” http://www.mgm.com/view/Movie/2394/Red%20Dawn%20%282010%29/
a well-done Fan site: http://www.reddawn2011.com/
[All posts copyright 2011 Patrice Stanton (unless otherwise noted)]