Nothing good can come of this. The country currently looks like that tangled ball of Christmas lights, twisted and knotted, that you quickly become frustrated with before throwing in the trash and riding down to Walmart to purchase replacements.
Only that isn’t an option, we can’t just throw the country away and start over. Though, there are those on both sides that simply want to cut out the knots and attempt to make sense of what remains. But that won’t work either.
All you’re left with is a bunch of pieces, disconnected from the whole. Nothing more than various lengths of wire, some with more bulbs than others and some less and all lacking the base that energizes them and the other end that connects them. Useless.
And that is us, numerous segments with varying numbers of a previous whole. Only the stakes are far greater than a Christmas tree with no lights.
There are those who are angry about perceived injustice. I’m not judging their perception, I’m not them and cannot see things from their perspective, only mine. And they have already judged my perspective.
Though I wasn’t present and no one was there to represent me, I was found guilty. Now they’re just arguing over my fate, each trying to out do the other in the level of intolerable consequences I must suffer and no small number of them that want me killed in the streets.
Oh, you didn’t realize you were also not in court that day? Don’t worry, our sentences will surely mirror one another.
Part of my sentence, apparently, is that my history is to be sanitized from my own country. But that is only the beginning. I am also not allowed to speak unless spoken to and only allowed to answer from a prepared list, not prepared by me. Any attempt to answer otherwise is mere further proof of my guilt.
Im also required to live what time remains of my aberrant life in shame and be subject to public ridicule without complaint as to do so adds yet more evidence against me.
The only thing I can do at this point is admit my guilt and atone for my crimes. And in true communist/ Marxist fashion, my atonement lies at the bottom of a ditch I’m expected to dig myself.
Their plan is perfectly planned and has been launched, zero hour has arrived. Only there’s a problem. I wasn’t in court that day because I was occupied elsewhere preparing my own defense with no intention of attending their trial or participating in my sentence and that has thrown a wrench in the works.
My lack of cooperation is mystifying to them, they have a plan after all, why am I not cooperating? And while an innocent man not admitting to baseless allegations may be an anathema to them, I fully understand it.
How can I plead guilty to a crime committed over two hundred years before I was born? Against people now two hundred years removed from the face of the earth? It leads me to wager there is no statute of limitations and that I was born guilty just as my accusers were born injured.
This absurd idea holds no weight, with me at least. For I am a primary in this concern and as such, I too get a vote, whether they like it or not. And this is the smoking gun of my guilt.
So, I prepare my defense. I enlist counsel and we draw up our defense to be implemented the moment they try to execute my sentence.
In my preparation, I’ve discovered some holes in their case, assumptions they’ve severely miscalculated that will surely lead to their ruin.
On the field of battle the American is a fierce opponent and many attacking enemies have perished for underestimating their ferocity. And Americans are most Savage when fighting their own. And more Savage still when fighting for the truth. Combined, an American is capable of untold barbarity.
And while yes, my accusers are also Americans attacking other Americans, they do not have truth on their side and to date their victories have been won while unopposed.
But opposition is coming. Emboldened by their numerous victories they now feel invincible. Even though they have yet to face resistance, they surge forward, intent on further murder and mayhem. Soon though, they will crash into our bulwarks of the defensive line. Defenses that have been constructed over decades, right under their noses and yet, they will be shocked when they meet that resistance.
If only they would leave the field, dignity in tact, they could prevent the ill fate awaiting them. But that is not to be as they are driven ever forward by their blind ill placed faith turned rage. The surprise on their faces will be genuine when their distorted and fabricated lies crash into the battlements of truth and fall before it in uncounted masses.
And yet, there is still time to prevent it all. Simply drop the false charges and withdraw from the field. There will be no pursuit. It is the only way to prevent what lies ahead. The choice, for now, is theirs. But time is quickly fading. And I for one am ready to meet them beard to ski mask and I will not be alone.
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