On April 29th, an American friend wrote from Spain, where he’d lived for 20 years, “The government announced new (legal) abilities to track and monitor people’s telephones. My youngest [son] asked if we could go to the U.S. if Spain moves towards communism. I didn’t know how to respond! Frightening where this could go.”
I replied, “Last thing you’d want to do is move to the USA. It’s a very angry and divided country that will erupt soon. Stay in Spain.”
As triggered by the filmed death of George Floyd, the nationwide rioting, looting and violence against authorities have begun. Since the entire 99% have been disenfranchised, relentlessly provoked and humiliated, every aggrieved group is out on the streets causing mayhem. Plus, there are likely hired berserkers, dispatched by hidden hands, to stoke further confusion and division among the populace.
Blacks, whites, browns, yellows, far left, far right, conservatives, liberals, nativists and immigrants are all pointing fingers at each other, but the engineers of this societal implosion are entirely unscathed and mostly unmentionable, as usual. Kicking back, they must be enjoying this sick show.
On May 18th, Mike Whitney asked, “Is the lockdown the greatest policy disaster in U.S. history?” but maybe it’s all planned out, for it serves our rulers to have mass impoverishment, increased social fragmentation, abject dependency on the state and a destructive anger that’s misframed and misdirected by paid politicos and the brainwashing media.
As the little guys go bankrupt, die and kill each other off, the big boys will swoop in for bargains of all kinds, from buildings to babes. They’ll whoop it up like loaded tourists in any broken down, fourth world hell hole.
So who are the boffo bosses in what’s left of America? Those who control our money and information flows, of course, the smug smirkers who indebt us all and warp our perceptions, at will. Raping our wallets, they bugger our minds.
For decades, they’ve wrecked Main Street to enrich Wall Street, so what’s happening now, including the $6 trillion stealth giveaway to banks, corporations and investors, is only an intensification of what they’ve done all along.
As for American politicians, they’re all bought, bugged, honey trapped or browbeaten by their masters, which aren’t “the people,” for sure, or are you that naïve? When Jeffrey Epstein was killed or disappeared, a hurricane size exhalation of relief whooshed from inside the Beltway.
Kevin Barrett speaks of the “Zionist-dominated usury banking cartel that rules the West,” and for a decade, Gilad Atzmon has stressed that “we are all Palestinians,” since we aren’t even allowed to name our oppressor.
We’re penned in a world where the grossest Jewish crimes draw less condemnation, if any, than the mere coupling of “Jewish” with “crime,” as if the concept itself is the worst sin imaginable. To utter it in any context is to become an instant Nazi who wishes to delouse every last Jew, we’ve been led to believe.
Whatever the destruction of the coronavirus, it is fleeting and miniscule compared to what has been wrought by Jewish parasites, and I’m not talking about Mrs. Neff and her chopped liver special, obviously. She, too, is dispensable.
Here’s hoping these sinister playas have finally overplayed their hands, for viruses can’t survive without a live host. From a dead America, fresh organisms will spring, even if many of us won’t be around to witness this flowering.
Meanwhile, we’ll have to tolerate, resist, stake out or defend new norms, on top of scrounging for meals. As the below correspondent articulates, “We are all in deeper trouble than most anyone’s experience, alive, is at all prepared to handle,” and the man’s no softie. A Vietnam vet, he’s weathered some horrors.
Richard F., a retired 69-year-old American, living in Indianapolis
Here in Indianapolis, IN, my daily life has changed in rather small, social ways as a result of the virus panic. A Vietnam veteran, with seven years army (four in Korea—Seoul and Pusan) and an army brat to boot, I retired thirteen years ago in the Washington, DC area, where I had worked, as a general contractor doing federal contract construction work, and raised a family, since the late 70’s. Post retirement and children’s education, brought separation from my 2d wife and three years in a cabin I’d built in West Virginia. Solitude and no amenities/utilities bought me a more solid sense of self sufficiency, but some loneliness for female companionship.
I left and traveled, by truck and train, all around the country for the next several years, using my eldest daughter and husband’s home in Littleton, CO as a home base. I bought property east of Denver to build a house on, then I met a woman from Indianapolis online. We got on well, met several times and in 2012 I deeded the property to my daughter and relocated to Indianapolis to be with my new-found love. I have no family anywhere in the Midwest and had never set foot in Indiana, but for driving through. That relationship lasted 5 1/2 years.
I moved, with my dog, Finn (had him since birth in 2009), into an apartment in a modest senior community on the north side of the city and sold my truck. I chose the community carefully for its walking and biking proximity to grocery stores, a library branch, the local, old railroad bed Monon trail and easy access to city bus stops, in order to get to the large VA hospital downtown as necessary and elsewhere. It worked out damn well, in all respects, until this spring.
The first of the year brought the news of the virus, and forever suspecting the worst of our fearless leaders’ intentions, at all levels and persuasions (Indiana is saturated with very common, law-abiding Republicans at all levels and a population that does nothing better than acquiesce and toe the line as directed), and the legitimacy of this latest of scares, I began stockpiling necessities with daily, often-times twice daily, walks and/or bus trips to the local Kroger, Target, Fresh Thyme, Chinese, Thai and Vietnamese groceries. I bought a lot of beer (and continue) too, storing what I didn’t drink casually under my bed and in the closet. I was earlier than most and made quick business of it. It continues, but at a much lesser pace. These forays have brought me, on a few occasions, face to face with various ‘Karen’ types who have elected to chastise and shame-attempt me over my non-mask wearing ways. These instances I have found interesting and challenging, in responding to in as calm and faux-magnanimous manner as I’ve been able to muster.
I had befriended any number of people (even a few questionably eligible women) here since arriving. As fate would have it, though, two of my best friends are and have been two black (I’m not) women, one in her early 80’s and the other in her late 70’s, who had gone out of their way to introduce themselves to me and make me feel welcome when I first arrived. Neither is local to Indianapolis either, but have children and other family here whom I have since met and developed other, separate and favorable relationships with. Out of those two friendships began regular brunch and birthday gatherings, help with little projects and most everyday communications on health and other normal, friendly, neighborly matters.
Those get togethers came to a very abrupt halt with the stay-at-home impositions, mask wearing and fear, particularly over the senior susceptibility issues; mostly driven by news drivel, children and other family and race inclinations. Our daily communications have grown stronger though. I had, also, begun conducting cooking classes, and end of session competitions, for at-risk male teenagers (predominantly black involved in a local organization, Boys2Men) with the son of one of those friends, through the 4-H and Purdue University Extension Service in 2019, at the IN state fairgrounds, and were getting ready to begin another series in March, but those too came to a halt.
Never having been much beyond the very small group level of sociability, I have had nothing much to miss from the social events and gatherings that such senior communities extend, but that have since dried up. The management here, however, is very liberal in what residents can do with their outside space, and being on the ground floor, I have a patio and garden plot that I have taken full advantage of, since arriving, and being a long-time gardener, been growing all manner of edibles and inedibles. That capability has not changed in the least, and I have used these circumstances to expand on both this spring.
I have back, hip and knee issues that had me at the VA hospital often for the past several years, but the VA went into full lock-down in March over anything not having to do with the panic, setting aside beds for virus victims that never materialized and closing down clinics and access to anything non-life threatening. Difficult as this has been, I have chosen to relegate the VA to being a source of last resort only, and will no longer bother with them for anything other over such unprofessional chicken-shitistics. Twilight time options are good and fun that way.
I am assuming that the latest opening authorizations will fail miserably, and quickly (restaurants in IN, e.g.. are able to offer only outside seating, with only 50% capacity at that—how’s that going to work?), and that we are all in deeper trouble than most anyone’s experience, alive, is at all prepared to handle. I’m somewhat grateful, for now, for being in IN, since they’ve not been quite so crazy as other states to the north, east and west. I do believe, though, that they’re just as willing and capable of going full tilt wrong. I’ve got beer and food enough for many, many months; after that…dunno. Best of luck to all everywhere and thanks to Linh Dinh for his chronicles.