Enemies of Liberty are ruthless. To own your Liberty, you'd better come harder than your enemies..

Sunday, February 21, 2016

A Thought...

If you intend to meet the Enemies of Liberty in the rural and isolated pieces of America during RevWarIII, ask yourself who owns the relevant Ground.

If you have to fight in the woods - the cities and suburbs belong to those in power.  People passing Marxist Kill Orders do not meet in the woods.  They do not meet in secret Appalachian base camps.  

They meet in City Hall staff offices and City Council voting rooms.  They meet in County offices and County Commissioner voting rooms.  They meet in offices of State Legislature buildings, and their laws are voted upon in State Legislative Chambers.

If you are planning to fight in the woods, ducking and dodging Enemy of Liberty forces and MRAPs while hiding in the woods, you are not fighting RevWarIII - you are locked in a false paradigm.

RevWarIII will be won or lost by the people willing to wear a waiters uniform or a suit and tie while carrying a garrote or suppressed Walther.

Think about it.


  1. That's why most OSS team members weren't soldiers. They were experts at various things, all, had the ability to learn new skills quickly, and they all had very solid brass balls with which to back it all up.
    Posers rarely survived "the ducks" weekend. Those who did, and had a gift for languages, might even have gotten a chance to walk openly through the Brandenburg Gate, and knock on the door of 16 Prinzregentenplatz, or at the front gate of the landhaus Obersalzberg (Die Berghof) above Berchtesgarten.

    Those full of snark at such propositions, save your gas for the appropriate reading room. Those who believe they have what it takes, are quietly making the necessary connections and arrangements for the moment when, once again, history calls for 'a little something unusual'.
    But put aside your dreams of "Bond" - about 1 in 3 such operatives died on their first assignment; and for those who survived number 1, the stakes were like a closed-progressive match of high stakes poker... the ante just keep going up, your friends keep dropping like flies, and the shit never ends.
    Hence their notoriously dark drinking humor...

    Nos morituri,
    Te salutimus.
    Nec nos ab ipsis.

    1. Ph.D's who could win bar fights. ;)

    2. And men who could play high stakes poker, to such an extent that they had not a single sweat-gland on their entire oversized ego.


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