Keep your clothes and weapons where
you can find them in the dark.
The Deep Breath
by Sarah A. Hoyt
Special to L. Neil Smith’s The Libertarian Enterprise
You know where you are. I know where we are.
The first week was …. rough, but now, among our side, a strange calm has set in, even as our press shrills ever more loudly that we MUST believe them, and idiots run around saying “if only we give in to them, they’ll be quiet.”
The silence is eery and strange, even as our democrat governors not only implement new lockdowns, but social media bans us in batch lots, and we get a sense that there is no way we come out of this without some kind of butcher’s bill.
And people who even a month ago would have gone “uh, are you nuts” are now saying things like “not yet.”
But there is a feeling of something brewing, and people are reaching for whatever they can as a time line, a plot, a guide.
We crossed to unknown waters when we WATCHED the election stolen before our eyes, in real time. And that’s not a line we can uncross.
Sure, Europe has seen things like this, and apparently the software used for the steal was developed in Venezuela (I know you’re shocked, shocked, shocked.) But Americans, you see, have been raised to believe we were free. More importantly, we’ve been raised to believe we have a right to be free. It makes a difference.
It’s just that right now no one knows what the next step is. My favorite was the guy on FB yesterday saying we needed “committees of correspondence.” A) we’re not cosplaying the American revolution. B) why? What have blogs been then? But I don’t hold it against him.
Navigation is unpredictable, just now. The waters are strange indeed.
Everyone is watching and waiting. It’s like that moment when the sea water goes out, WAY out. And then the tsunami hits.
Oh, not everyone is just standing and waiting. The rally in DC should have been a warning. Particularly since attendance massively exceeded expectations, on such short notice. There are other rallies being planned. I need to sign up for a few lists. You do too. Find out what’s happening in your area. Make contacts. Make plans. However this plays, you’ll need that.
But the left doesn’t take warnings well, and to be fair, we have flipped the play book on them. Because the right never demonstrates or gets unruly.
Or do we?
ROFL. We get over 2016, b*tch? Really? Yeah that is the problem. You have no idea what you’ve unleashed or what’s coming for you if your skanky would-be-elite asses manage to impose their will on us. Or think you do. After the outrages of 2020 and the revelations of how deep the fraud is? You have no idea, Chelsea, baby. And I’m still sane enough to hope very much you never find out. I hope very much the courts rule justly and that you and your ilk throw a massive tantrum and fly off to some tropical resort to cosplay rightful-leaders-in-exhile.
I’d rather you develop lifestyles at la victime than we have to deploy tumbrils.
I’ve been more certain than now that we could escape this. The problem, you see, is that you won’t learn and we won’t submit. Seems like a hopeless case.
There are some—very faint—glimmers of hope.
Take this for instance:
And that’s where the situation is.
Where I am? Where you are? Where we are?
We’re the dog leashed, still, and growling and tensing. If the intruder who would rob us of our most precious liberty, and who has already most vilely trespassed upon it this year, should take fright…. Well, the dog will just chase him off the property.
But what if it’s an exceptionally stupid intruder?
At this point the dog doesn’t care. The dog knows its duty. Its reconciled to what must happen.
A strange calm pervades our country.
It is said that before the battle of Thermopylae, the warriors combed their hair and dressed in their best, since it might be the last.
We’re all combing our hair, changing our clothes, hugging our loved ones, having one more party for the way. Just in case.
But if it comes for us, it does. None of us are running and hiding. Which should be a warning to the left. If the left could process warnings.
In this moment, as the sea goes out, way out, and things lay uncovered that were never intended to be seen in the full light of day, take stock and make preparations.
Know who your nearby friends are.
Have a place to run to should you need it.
Lay by supplies, at least for a month (six is better, a year best.) Remember pet food and any medications for you and your pets. If you need dental or eye exams, get them done now. Get a spare pair of glasses with your prescription. Ugly frames are okay.
Keep your car filled up. Make sure it’s mechanically good.
Make a go bag, and perhaps one with the dried food, that you can carry.
Get a battery radio.
Get extra batteries for your laptops/other appliances.
Get a grill, in case you need to cook with no electricity/gas.
Water filter. Medical kits.
Keep in touch with our people, nearby and remote. Some are not handling this well at all, and you must do what you can. Between lockdowns and the grand theft elections, people are at risk. Help a fallen comrade. They will lift you when needed.
The time might come to unleash. Now is not—yet—the time.
Prepare. And keep your clothes and weapons where you can find them in the dark.
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