We are entering what Sun Tzu called “death ground”.
The place where wise generals dread to fight, and where the consequences for the loser are permanent.
There will be no retrograde, no feint, no headlong retreat.
We are heading into the civilizational Thunderdome:
Two men enter, one man leaves.
And the man who leaves will not be the same one who entered, when the contest is all over.
Steel your hearts now to what’s coming. Savor the sights and sounds and smells of what is and what was in your lifetime, that some among you may someday convey them to generations unmarked by what is to transpire, that they might by some means restore and someday surpass the things which daily become but fond memories.
Anywhere from a week to a generation from now, the relentless drumbeat of idiocy that cannot abide free men going about their days, and must control every waking moment, every word that escapes their lips, every thought that flits through their minds, and ultimately, every beating of their lifeblood, will be satiated with nothing less than victory, or a bayonet to the heart.
They think they want the conflict they would foment.
And they’ve abandoned any moorings of reason, logic, self-interest, or common sense, and any boundaries of decent or morally-bounded behavior to accomplish their nightmare of ultimate total control of all, by their chosen few, whom they assure us are oh-so-very-much-smarter than we Deplorables.
Stock your larders. Sharpen your weapons. Fortify your walls. And gather your friends.
The hard-hearted ones. The ones who can deal with adversity. The ones who can laugh in the darkest days, and push on through the darkest nights.
Crybabies and mama’s boys may die as well as any other, but they waste resources, and bring nothing of value.
What’s going to come, eventually, is going to be a problem for two types of people:
Those who have no idea of what’s coming.
And those who do.