๐ฅ๐ฒ๐ฐ๐ฒ๐ป๐๐น๐, ๐ ๐ถ๐น๐น๐๐๐๐ฟ๐ฎ๐๐ฒ๐ฑ ๐๐ต๐ฒ ๐ผ๐ฏ๐๐ฒ๐ฟ๐๐ฎ๐ฏ๐น๐ฒ ๐ณ๐ฎ๐ฐ๐ ๐๐ต๐ฎ๐ ๐๐ต๐ฒ ๐๐บ๐ฒ๐ฟ๐ถ๐ฐ๐ฎ๐ป ๐ฃ๐ฒ๐ผ๐ฝ๐น๐ฒ ๐ฎ๐ฟ๐ฒ ๐ป๐ผ๐ ๐๐ฒ๐ ๐ณ๐ฒ๐ฑ ๐๐ฝ with the deplorable state of their government. In other words, they are still very willing to suffer unspeakable abuse at the hand of an agency that was created by them to halt it in the first place.
I defended this analysis with grade school logic: If the People were tired of their tyrants they would have tossed them aside by this time.
But we haven’t because we’re not.
We’ve grown accustomed to the abuse. We’re good and used to it. It’s certainly not so bad that we can’t stand a little more. After all, enduring a little inconvenient suffering is much easier than contemplating the very inconvenient struggle it takes to put a stop to it.
Historically, the noxious and soul-rending trend that demands we go along to get along isn’t exactly novel, as the Declaration so pointedly observes:
“Prudence, indeed, will dictate that Governments long established should not be changed for light and transient causes; and accordingly all experience hath shewn, that mankind are more disposed to suffer, while evils are sufferable, than to right themselves by abolishing the forms to which they are accustomed” (Emphasis added).
We still have our despots. We’ve done nothing. Itโs simple cause and effect.
Itโs like when home invaders breach the front door. Unless the man of the house takes action, his wife will be abused and his children will be maimed, to say nothing of the damage his property will suffer.
Yet when the man meets the aggressors with deadly force and purposefully offers them a one-way trip to Jesus, then word of his particular style of evangelism has a way of permeating the community. Prospective criminals who would rather steal than die. They give the home a wide berth.
Cause and effect.
In a world of children
When I was a little boy of four or five, I enjoyed playing with the neighbor girl living next door to our duplex. Chronologically, we were a match. Temperamentally, not so much. Warm Summer days in the Miami Valley of Ohio saw us sharing the adjacent driveway, an innocent childish camaraderie and of course, all the toys at our disposal.
One day she began a trend where, waiting to see which of my own toys I was enjoying, she would firmly and quickly yank it out of my grasp.
For effect.
At my tender and callow age, I didn’t know the cause of her aggression, but having my property returned was not an option. My pleas for redress were met haughty, derisive laughter. And when she saw it on my face, the sadness and tears only served to bring a malicious grin to hers.
With devilish glee, she responded to my pain.
This went on for several days. To me, it was an eternity. It was getting to the point where I was intimidated to go outside and enjoy my own playthings, and that slowly became very unacceptable.
The way children do, I petitioned the assistance of the adults in my sphere. The sad pathetic breeders residing across the driveway were too busy swallowing her side of the story to consider their little angel would act like anything I just described. On the home front, my folks had grown tired of hearing me whine about the injustice of it all. Vague recollections of hearing “You’ll just have to learn to take care of it yourself” still haunt my memories.
In the moment, I was clueless. How do I make someone stop something they won’t stop?! This was a pressing matter, and though slightly detached and ambivalent, Mom and Dad nevertheless somehow managed to encourage me to take matters into my own hands.
And I finally did so.
My intolerance grew. After the latest abuse, I burned with an indignant fire that screamed, โNo more!โ
Methodically, and with a great deal of calculation, I put a big rock into my own hands. It was the largest my back yard held and the heaviest my little five-year-old hands could carry. I carefully deadlifted what seemed to be a huge chuck of limestone over to where the little tyrant sat.
Unaware, her back toward me, I struck. With malice aforethought and as hard as I could, I slammed that boulder onto her head!
I watched with endless delight as she immediately stopped playing and ran home crying, leaving me to my toys and some well-earned peace.
With utter satisfaction, I responded to her pain.
Instinctively, I knew the only way to meet a bully was with disagreeable force. Talking doesn’t get it. Pleading evinces a total lack of self-respect.
Now, I donโt recall if I was punished for meting out justice in my own little way, but I distinctly remember my own little world was the better for it: She never took my toys again.
Itโs simple cause and effect.
We both lived through the assault of that day, but the value of the lesson was mine to cherishโI stood up for myself. Happily, no matter what the consequences might have been, I rectified the atrocity of somebody thinking they could abuse me.
Adulting is hard
Today, many years later, I wish I had more peers who felt the same.
I am far from that driveway and the social constructs children must learn to navigate, but if Iโm honest with you… I feel a little alone. Where are the throngs who would gladly stand with me and stand together to stand up for themselves?
I have been pointedly asked, โWhat is your answer against a corrupt government?โ Itโs a good question, and I have no doubt the one who asked is looking for a solid answer.
As I see it, there are only two ways to create change: persuasion and compulsion. To persuade means to convince a person or group with words. This can be peaceful. To compel means to use force (which can be violent).
Now, once you and I agree that change must take place, we only have these two options, and I see our government as having taken the nice one off the table.
Why? Because the People are not consulted, represented, respected or appreciated. Our value to our oligarchy stems only from how much it can abuse us of our autonomy, our resources and our future. It has already squandered our heritage.
Peacefully, there was a day when we might seek redress via the ballot, but elections are predetermined. Audits, a joke. Even if our favorite son somehow gains office, all the good he might do will be undone by the next interloper, making the process itself untenable and laughable.
My answer? Itโs time for grassroots solidarity, not necessarily violence (that option is never off the table).
If weโre pissed off, thatโs good. If we’re helpless and frustrated, it’s not.
Itโs time to embrace the reasons why we are angry. We are victimized and disenfranchised by mega corporations, the government and by the media that continually regurgitates and amplifies our pain. Wealthy globalists, who have the potential to right wrongs, continually perpetuate them.
All at our expense.
But the only one responsible for myself is me.
Iโve long opined that we have the government weโve acquiesced to. Itโs not the government we started with, or the one it’s supposed to be, or the one we want to have, but it is the government weโve settled for.
In just 247 years, our perverse complacency has bred a spectacularly putrefying group of self-serving bastards who will, by all thatโs holy, suck the very heart out of our nation. While we watch.
I see the problem, but Iโm not here to fix the blame. Letโs fix the damn government!
If you can use a rock to break the chains of your slavers, then join me. If you feel helpless and frustrated, then join me. If you see the soul of a corrupt nation thatโs still worth saving, THEN. JOIN. ME!