Christmas in November! As we await the next Deep State countermove, we have to take some time to celebrate our collective efforts and our answered prayers.
Please enjoy our victory and, more importantly, our enemies' defeat. Schadenfreude might never again be so appropriate or taste so sweet.
We win!
I read "The Fourth Turning" a few years back and since then I have listened to several Neil Howe interviews and other discussions on the subject that did not include Mr. Howe. At times, Howe clarified, other times he speculated, and other times he put a finer point on a pointed topic.
I scratched the surface of other historical cycles, one being the lifespan of fiat currencies. If this pajama historian was more committed to academic rigor, he would be able to source all of his comments. I can't tell you where this number originates but I was told the average life of a fiat currency is 52 years. That sounds right. We might not be able to verify the number but we know that fiat currency always arrives with an expiration date.
On August 15, 1971, President Nixon via executive order, ended the dollar convertibility to gold, securing a legacy of significance if not outright malevolence. All of history, all of the world, and all of life can be viewed through the lens of currency. The strength of currency does not determine everything but it influences everything. Everything.
Birth rates, literacy rates, the number of women in the workforce, the viability of organized religion, short-term vs. long-term investment strategies, the likelihood of war, the pronounced skewing of income and wealth, national debt, the clout of the managerial class, the zeitgeist...all things shaped by the strength or weakness of a currency.
A lot of people are saying that 2024 is the most important election in history. No, that would be 2020. It was then that we learned that the deep state is deeper than we had imagined and that they are more vicious than we could imagine. It was a gut punch, a shock to witness a presidential election stolen in plain view. As stunning as the steal was, it did not prepare us for the follow-up mass censorship, mass cancellation, intimidation, harassment, lawfare, contrived litigation, and even incarceration inflicted upon those who investigated or reported or protested the steal. Oh and let's not forget the assassination attempts and the coordinated legal attacks directed against the unrepented denier-in-chief.
The deep state is brazen. Cheating has a way of escalating and even as the veil is lifted, the political thugs practice their craft for all to see. Just one example: when the voter rolls of a state or municipality exceed the adult population of a city or state, corruption has crept in. Dems are openly committing election fraud with no fear of consequence.
Had the deep state not stolen the 2020 election, would they be any worse off? Trump seemed to get played at every turn. Pence, Sessions, Barr, Wray. The shadow government had binders and binders of Quislings and shills and moles. So much for that business savvy that allowed DJT to look into a man's eye and read his character like Don Corleone. A second Trump term would have probably seen more administrative hobbling and we would be left to celebrate the professed effort more than the result. An echo of the Reagan years.
Leftists always overplay their hand. Why? Because they are Leftists. They will first try to inflate Harris's vote count and bury Trump votes. Should that fail they will disrupt the voting in Red areas. They will use every technique they used in 2020 and showcase some new tactics as well.
I strongly believe that if we had an honest election, Trump would win in proportion to the size of crowds at their respective rallies. An epic landslide. A Red Tsunami. Sadly, clean elections are long ago and far away.
Should election theft fail, Judge Merchan will send Trump to jail to better facilitate assassination. And there will be other assassination attempts as well. There will be efforts to decertify the election. The tail might wag the dog. It will not be business as usual.
Civil strife is preceded by enhanced bureaucracy and unmanageable government debt which are preceded by a failed currency. We have those things by the boatload. To paraphrase Rudyard Lynch, we are in a doctor's waiting room anticipating test results, and who knows what else? These things only happen to people of other times and other places. Probability? Inevitability? Fate?
Tomorrow's presidential election might not matter at all.
"Bittersweet" does not quite capture the breadth of feeling. It was vaguely synchronistic. Yes, it was sad. Yes, it validated my perspective and made me feel a little bit proud. It is hard for me to explain the significance of the meeting and I might fall short in that effort. I found a new friend and the friendship lasted about an hour.
This writer does not ordinarily use his real name. I have not taken any measures to conceal my identity and a sleuth could reveal everything about me in seconds. It's not the sleuth that worries me. The nosy neighbor or the office politician is more concerning. In this story, I want to protect the identity of the Health Care Professional, hereafter referred to as HCP. We don't want to cause problems with HCP's coworkers or peers or superiors or subordinates or regulators. In protecting the identity of HCP, I am assigning the pronoun they and I have delayed telling this story so that Alice Kravitz will not be able to pinpoint the day in question.
Let me briefly restate my recent history. In December 2021 I was terminated from a job I held for thirteen years because I resisted my employer's vaccination mandate. Prior to COVID, I was not a vax refusenik. I believed that vaccinations, like antibiotics and chlorinated drinking water, were twentieth-century marvels. Then we were hit with the Coronavirus. Every facet--every minute detail of that narrative--was bogus. It was presented by the Consensus Media with enhanced consensus.
I played along with the herd, standing six feet from humanity and constantly wearing a snot rag on my face. Being a homebody, I did not necessarily feel inconvenienced by the shelter-in-place orders. Working on the fringes of health care I was deemed an essential employee which meant that I could legally drive through the empty streets with a sense of ownership I had not known since the days following the Marathon bombing. In some ways, COVID was even better than April 2013 because the police, possibly reluctant to don mask and glove and exchange paper with a doomsday vector, allowed the scarce driver to move as fast as he pleased.
Historians might refer to this era as the golden age of horseshit. Lie stacked upon lie, stacked upon lie. Dissidents would be silenced. Heretics would be canceled. Doctors with sterling resumes would have their practices threatened. Careers would be wrecked. Businesses would close. Surfers would be jailed. Churches would be regulated in seating and singing and parking and handshaking. It wasn't the worst of times but it sure as shit wasn't the best of times either.
I declined the mandated vax. I lost my job. I landed on my feet. I paid a lawyer and was able to recover my unemployment benefits. I would continue to see healthcare professionals (HCP's). One appointment stands out.
HCP started the conversation by telling me how much they respected me for rejecting the COVID vaccination. HCP then informed me that they had enjoyed a lifetime of good health but that changed immediately after they received their prophylactic regimen.
Here I have to explain that I used to work as a mental health counselor. For reasons that I partly understand and partly do not comprehend, people find me "approachable". Even away from the workplace, people sometimes share more information than I would expect them to.
HCP provided a lot of personal health data and I can usually hold my own in shallow medical conversation. What I can tell you is that HCP was hit with multiple, possibly unrelated, health problems, some more serious than others. HCP is enduring a life-threatening complication. The prognosis is grim.
HCP ignored some professional standards by sharing this information with a patient. That does not bother me. I am honored that HCP would treat me as an equal. Under different circumstances, HCP's behavior might be viewed as inappropriate. Under these circumstances, I regard HCP's advice and support as noble and brave and a display of the heights of healthcare delivery.
HCP would enter into the record that they had advised me to get jabbed repeatedly, but privately HCP confirmed the wisdom of my decision. The focus of the visit returned to the patient and I can say that HCP performed to the standard. The ice had been broken and I was unusually quick to reveal details about myself I might have otherwise abbreviated. We also discussed my own recent losses and concerns for my loved ones' emotional welfare, topics I always avoid.
We managed to discuss death and dying in an unusually relaxed and candid way. Not just mortal coil kinds of stuff but burial plot prices, tombstone prices, logistics...totally unexpected topics. When you share secrets, especially secrets regarding mortality, a bond can form. Instant friendship. Instantly old friends. HCP even ragged on me about inflating my current job title, something only an old friend or relative might do. It did not seem out of place.
I cannot tell you how often I have reflected on this meeting. The breadth and depth of feelings are difficult to summarize. Yes, I like to be right. Yes, I love to be right and I like confirmation that I am right, but on matters related to the vax, I want to be wrong! Tin foil hat kind of wrong, Flat Earth kind of wrong. NESARA/GESARA kind of wrong. My friends and relatives who got Pfizered or Modernaed outnumber the refuseniks by a factor of at least 20 to 1. Sometimes it sucks to be right.
I never again saw my instant friend, one of the best allies, colleagues, cohorts, and, buddies I have ever known. Health care professionals are stalked more frequently than most people and I would not want to set off any alarms. Also, private contact with a patient can land the HCP in trouble. I am concerned about HCP's welfare but frankly, it is none of my business.
I seem to have a talent for recruiting or attracting stellar treaters. This interaction was special. In an era when we can't trust most doctors anymore, HCP boldly delivered truth and candor. For that, I shall be forever grateful.
This writer is thinking 12 thoughts at once and that is never good. He has no sense of comparison but he would describe his inner monolog as orderly and repetitive and repetitive. If his inner dialog (usually a monolog but now and then there is some Q and A) were a cable TV station it would be C-Span II or C-Span III. Today, it is a press conference staffed with hecklers.
There is no shock this time. Who did not expect an assassination attempt?
The consensus media were slow to respond to the story and then they all reported that Trump was rushed offstage after hearing "loud noises".
Was the Secret Service complicit?
Clif High predicted a mega-event (I can't speak his language so I use the term mega-event) on or around July 15. He also said the release language will continue for several months.
The power of prayer. I don't have reliable stats but, Trump is possibly the most prayed-for person in history. Out of the blue someone texted me an Amanda Grace video this past Tuesday that was mostly a prayer service for Trump and his family.
And his family...this writer's wife, upon learning of Trump's close call, immediately voiced concern for the safety of Trump's family.
Is this Fort Sumter?
May 24, 2024, is Bob Dylan's eighty-third birthday.
I don't want to sound like an aged Boomer inflicting demographic imperialism on the rest of humanity one more time. This is a political blog and we try not to wander off the reservation too frequently.
Sticking to politics, I want to thank Bob profusely for many, many things especially his apolitical life. Too many artists and entertainers spew Leftist verbiage because they want to be stylish or because they happen to be idiot savants who know nothing about anything outside their polished craft.
I could name a dozen actors who I once admired and respected but who are now repulsive to me. Think Robert Deniro. "Taxi Driver", "The King of Comedy", "Good Fellas"...I can't even look at these masterpieces anymore. Deniro is a ruling class suck-up and his moronic comments taint his lifetime of work. He just had to go and ruin it for me.
Could there ever be a greater disconnect between a star's contrived persona and their true essence than what Bono has displayed? The compassionate, sensitive, Christian artist is also a World Economic Forum participant. Is a greater contrast between essence and affect possible?
Well yes, it is possible. Man of the people/blue collarish/Nebraska-folkie/if Pete Seeger-and-Bob Dylan-had-a-love-child, Bruce Springsteen seems to have topped them all. Witness his flying above all of us on Air Force One with America's first Soros-puppet president. Larry Sinclair did it better, Brucie. Oh and let's not forget the sweet time Brucie had with Barry and Tom Hanks and Richard Branson on Branson's private yacht. That was one exclusive circle-jerk. And I used to love your music. I used to think--get this--I used to think you were real.
I can't feel you anymore
I can't even touch the books you've read
That brings us back to Bob. Bob was on hand for Martin Luther King's "I have a dream" speech. It is believed that that was Dylan's last protest of any kind. He sat out the peace marches and the no-nukes fad. Rush Limbaugh once ignorantly, ignorantly, ignorantly stated that Bob was "some kind of big environmentalist". Not publicly, he wasn't. Bob has been politically agnostic since at least the mid 60's.
...Lies that life is black and white
Spoke from my skull, I dreamed...
...Spouted out that liberty is just equality in school
"Equality," I spoke the word
As if a wedding vow...
...In a soldier's stance, I aimed my hand
At the mongrel dogs who teach
Fearing not I'd become my enemy
In the instant that I preach...
Ah, but he was so much older then. We were to see another side of Bob Dylan that was no longer preachy, or sophomoric or even vaguely partisan. Interestingly, the same album that gave us "My Back Pages" also provided "It Ain't Me Babe", a song that could be read as a rejection of guru status. Bob kept things in perspective.
Thanks for not ruining the enjoyment of your life's work, Bob. Happy Birthday, friend.
