"Guerrilla Law" - All That's Left for Citizens of the "Nation of Laws"

The grandchildren were here for two weeks, and wife Rita and I are recovering, recovering both from the labors that children and their rearing requires and from the loss of such labor. When you love someone, the labor it makes necessary is one of life’s great pleasures. Too bad so few people ever come to understand that.

Of course, parenthetically, we have a media and an ideology – capitalism – that strives mightily to assure mis-understanding where that general fact is concerned, s-o-o-o . . . Selfish ego-centricity and self-aggrandizement are the credo and hallmark of today’s capitalism, after all. Where children are concerned, nevertheless, the rewards of self-sacrificing love are not only galacticly self-evident otherwise, but easily apparent to anyone understanding the process of evolution.

A Mother Nature who saw fit to permit parents abandonment of her children would condemn her planetary kingdom to lifelessness.

In fact, even a scintilla of understanding where nature and natural processes are concerned make obviously apparent the fact that we are here in this life for the purpose of bearing and rearing children, and how well one has lived, his true worth as a person, is measured in how well he has raised his children. Nature and Nature’s god, moreover, care not a hill of beans about rising to the rank of king, emperor, or president, about having subjugated and enslaved millions, or about having acquired colossal wealth and the political power inherent in great wealth.

Nature and her god require and exalt successful parents, and men who have husbanded and cared for a woman and her baby. That simple. For two weeks, Rita and I shared real, natural, and fulfilling exercise – that of caring for, nurturing, and teaching children. When, on Father’s Day, I was awarded a paper crown upon whose design and production the three grandchildren had collaborated, I actually felt like a king. That these aren’t my natural grandkids – we share no genes – made the coronation all that more meaningful.

But nevertheless, for me, the time was bittersweet. A natural clown, a guy taught by life to view the parts and players on its stage with a wryly jaundiced eye, I always keep kids in my charge in laughing wonderment. I love the ridiculous (one might as well: like air, it is inescapably everywhere these days) and during a twelve hour drive like that necessary to pick up and return the kids, a lot of humorous entertainment is required. We had a great time. Still, every joy and pleasure was tempered by guilt on my part, the guilt of knowing what ten year old Aidan, nine year old Mallory, and six year old Zöe will inevitably face one day upon reaching adulthood.

They’ll face a poisoned continent, under a sickening atmosphere, governed by corporate military totalitarianism. Children of the middle class that must be impoverished in order to perpetuate neo-conservative capitalism, they will live Hobbesian lives, “solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short.” God damn you, “America!” Rather than live the disciplined lives required of the citizens of a free and democratic society – freedom is, has always been, a state demanding of its citizenry the discipline demanded in turn by self-reliance, restraint, and responsibility – you have lived merely in order to grow surfeited, grossly obese and ridiculously soft and decadent – surfeited, obese, and decadent on credit derived from the promise of your children’s indentured servitude. They have trusted you and you have abandoned them, sacrificed them to the vicious gods of corporate capitalism, to the pandering panjandrums of the military industrial complex, men like Dick Cheney, George W. Bush, and their like.

There has never been anything like it in our history, and the frequent stories on our emotion, hate-pandering, media of parents’ horrific abuse of their children are merely microcosms of a society and nation behaving in the same manner where its progeny are concerned. The children are abused – beaten and starved to death because their parents are concerned more with self than with the children they have conceived as the result of base self-indulgence rather than love. This is a sick society, but nothing shouts the fact of its sickness like the fact of its children being sold into slavery by parents interested only in self and selfish pursuits.

You are beneath contempt, “America” – and were there something beneath contempt, I would hold you there, too. Having said, “god damn you,” it occurs to me that that might be the reason for what you are.

The ride home when we had returned the children to their parents might have been a boring and lonely one, were it not for the concerned – worried almost sick, actually – conversation in which Rita and I engaged. How in the hell might just the two of us, let alone our ages, protect the little people? What might we tell their parents, and the nation of parents; and how might we convince the latter of truth so drowned and buried under relentless corporate Mockingbird-directed propaganda?

In Big Springs, Texas, stopped to re-fuel, I noticed a Neil Diamond CD and bought it. Playing it, I was soon lost in reverie. Music, songs, you see, have played a sometimes pivotal role in my life. Bob Seger and the Silver Bullet Band’s “Like a Rock” probably saved the United States of America a debacle that would have made the World Trade Center seem a pop-corn fart when compared to what I once considered doing (count your blessings, “America” – when your enemies get serious, start thinking instead of jumping up and down and screaming “Allah,” you’re in for veritable hell). Three thousand people from a population of three hundred million is equivalent to a broken toenail on an individual. Only the scum-sucking decadence and demented, “Princess and the Pea” surfeited-ness of a people who, one among the thirty-four nations of the hemisphere, call themselves “Americans,” could explain the uproar and outrage of a loss comparatively so small.

The “rock” that once was the United States of America is now effeminate, a physical and moral marshmallow. Directly responsible for the deaths of literally hundreds of thousands, the impoverishment, sickness and misery of millions more, among them millions of their fellows, busily and meretriciously engaged in the enslavement for profit of their own children, “Americans” found cause for outrage when a dog they had been kicking bit them.

Oh, yeah – I can hear it. The sanctimonious and pious indignation of the unco guid in the Home of the Brave. B-a-a-a-a-rf! Save the bullshit, folks - I was one of your victims. It has long been evident – thunderously so – that your idea of “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness” means that you should be entitled to exploit your fellow on the planet to whatever degree your life, liberty, and happiness requires. Even at home, in the Land of the Free, your “Nation of laws” means law purchased by the fabulously wealthy in order to further their exploitations and enslavement of their economically and politically less adept or otherwise fortunate fellow.

Why the hell would your corporations do otherwise with the citizens of the world’s other nations, and how in hell do you have the colossal stupidity to believe the other citizens of the planet don’t see and know that? Corporate capitalism isn’t a whisper (and the world’s citizens don’t listen to FoxNews, you know) – it’s a thunderous roar.

You’re a fraud, a fraud as obvious as the purpose of fifty-six thousand lobbyists at the seat of power – federal government – and a president who publicly flaunts the law he swore an oath to uphold; in fact, a compilation of the evidence where your fraudulent image and façade is concerned would fill volumes. You have become history’s one, greatest lie. More, the successes of your Military Industrial Complex creation, the Central Intelligence Agency and its Operation Mockingbird co-option of the press and media make you totally incompetent to assess in any meaningful way the truth of what I say, such that I have neither desire nor intent to convince you.

This, therefore, is only the warning to an opponent demanded by honor of a gentleman, not a newscast.

The music, the song, I mentioned? “I am, I said” – Neil Diamond. When your sycophant minions treated me, a native citizen of the Land of the Free – where, supposedly, men . . . “hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights” – like a stray dog, I remember thinking that then I said “I am . . .” And, “no one heard – not even the chair.” I was alone. I was as alone as I was the day an eight-passenger van ran me down in a cross-walk, knocked me from my bicycle into a suborbital flight that covered sixty-one feet and left an eleven feet trail of my skin, flesh, and blood on the street pavement; and when the driver and passengers of the van leapt from it to attack me as I lay squirming, I was alone despite dozens, even scores of passersby.

I was alone as I was through twenty-three years of federal crime against me and mine, crime that included relentless harassment, literally scores of burglaries, at least a dozen overt attempts at murder, and more.

I was as alone as Kitty Genovese all these years ago. Do you remember – the girl stabbed to death while dozens of the Home of the Brave’s citizens watched without so much as making a phone call? The time was 1964, and military industrial corporation power and the CIA it had created for the purpose had begun in earnest and with already palpable effect the destruction of the public’s mental coherence and resulting cohesiveness. “Deceive, confuse, and bewilder,” is how the federal wonk put it a few years later during a seminar for would-be participants in the federal program (for the desperately skeptical, look up MKULTRA, MKCHAOS, Mockingbird, and the like).

I was as alone as the scores – more than two hundred, at last count – of men convicted wrongfully of rape under mindlessly emotion-driven, politicized and corrupt laws of procedure and evidence. A decadent society, cowardily submissive to those interested only in their specialized self-interest, was oh, so eager to look the other way, as its victims were stripped of our vaunted “constitutional rights.”

Like freedom, you know, constitutional rights are subject to the rule of the mob, too.

Well-read in the history of such things, I wasn’t surprised when the public stood by idly while the government went about its relentless effort to destroy me. Of course not. I knew all too well that you were concerned with things the magnitude of Anna Nicole Smith’s sex life, the disappearance of the latest arrogantly oblivious bimbo to be kidnapped, raped, and discarded like the vapidly empty human condom she is, or the rescue of a strayed horse or beached whale. The torturing of one of your fellow “Americans” – me - was no more significant to you than was that of Moslem prisoners at Abu Graib Prison. Your character is such that television promoters and advertisers deem it necessary to intersperse vapidly lurid, tabloid nonsense like the lurid excesses of one Paris Hilton with that of the results of the appalling presidential, commander-in-chief-of-our-military pratfall in Iraq and its resultant slaughter of our troops there.

You care as much about your fellow “American” as your President – a man as perfectly representative of the nation he leads as conceivable - cares about his constituency, the common man, or his oath of office. You are a spectacle of spiritual rottenness and decadence unparalleled in history since that of Ancient Rome.

You are so rotten, so low, that you care about nothing – not even your children and grandchildren - but satisfaction of your appetites.

So spare me the sanctimoniously phony bullshit. I know you. Spare me the sorry-ass flag waving and patriotism. Save me your “support our troops” – you care for them, our children, the same way you care for their children and their children.

Still, nevertheless, I – unlike you – feel an immense responsibility, that of parent for his children; that of forbearer for progeny. Revelation – it wasn’t; I not only knew of it literally years ago, but wrote of it – that George W. Bush has spent as much of the public’s money as all the presidents of U.S. History combined spurs me again to do whatever necessary to assuage the horror we are by our despicable cowardice bearing down upon our children and grandchildren.

So, like Leonidas at the pass of Thermopylae, like Horatius at the bridge over the Tiber, forlorn in the knowledge of what you have become and what to expect, I will try nonetheless. As I’ve already intimated – maybe I said it flatly; I don’t recall – I will suggest, even begin by way of example, ways to institute a guerrilla law counter-attack against the takeover of our country by totalitarian corporate plutocrats who bill themselves as “neo-conservative.”

First, though, I invite you to read my www.judoknighterrant.com page having to do with Operation Mockingbird. I also encourage you to research the Operation Mockingbird project and its history. It’s all there, more than enough to convince all but the stultified, stupefied, and brain-dead of far right and far left political persuasion (those, in other words, already lost to Mockingbird federal propaganda).

I wish I could think of a rallying cry (make no mistake, people with trillions as stake will not take this lying down – this means war). This, perhaps will do: in the words of Mexican reformer and revolutionary Emiliano Zapata, “It is better to die on your feet than to live on your knees.”

And remember this: I don’t care about how you live; I care about how your children, and their children, live.