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Time Is The Strangest Thing
by Sarah A. Hoyt
Special to L. Neil Smith’s The Libertarian Enterprise
Sometimes—more than others—I have weird prophetic dreams. They’re not really very useful, like dreams normally aren’t.
But they tell me that time—or perhaps the human mind—is more than what we tend to think of it as being.
I mean we’ve all experienced instances of “coincidences” like dreaming of a friend we haven’t seen in years, and then run into them the next day.
Sure. Deja vu. You just think you dreamed of it. won’t wash, I’m sorry. It’s one of those things that violates the Occam’s Razor. You start by explaining “you didn’t really dream it, you just think you did” and next thing you know you’re explaining why someone said a sentence in perfect second century Latin because they once heard it for a few minutes.
At any rate, my foretelling dreams have a different feel. And they’re I HASTEN TO ADD completely useless.
My favorite ever was when younger son was having lots of trouble in school, and I thought he would drop out of sixth grade and, well, have all the problems that come with that sort of thing. I dreamed we were waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs, and my husband called up “Hey, you don’t want to be late for your court date.” And then he came down the stairs in a suit.
I remembered that one, because…. wouldn’t you? Yeah. It was a traffic ticket. You see, when he started driving he drove my husband’s 1986 Mustang, whose speedometer had given up the ghost long since, and he had some trouble figuring out how fast he was going. BUT I only had a few seconds, so I was terrified.
Well, I won’t claim my future histories are prophetic. For one I have more than three. For another, I wrote the future history for Darkships on a hot August afternoon, in our top of the hill house in Manitou Springs (it’s still the house that was most “ours” even though not nearly the one we lived longest in.)
You see, we had a writers’ group, and I was supposed to do a short story a week, and I’d found what I enjoyed most was Space Opera. (Still is.) But what I was doing, being me, was coming up with a new story-world-place every single time. This was insane, exhausting and quite strange, to be honest.
SO I sat down and worked out the next thousand years in an afternoon.
Is that the sort of fugue state where premonitions might come? Who knows?
It is however a nightmare that I’m enduring now. “What if I called it?”
Certainly the insanity of the Global elites is such that it could possibly lead to the world of the Good Men. Maybe. I think honestly that requires a level of competency that the global would be elites lack. I mean, seriously, the pulp writers gave us effete tech Lords with interesting vices, beautiful sculpted appearances and—let’s not forget it—capes. Even Heinlein’s technocratic elite might be paunchy, middle aged, etc, but they at least used their ill gotten gains for what seemed to bring them pleasure.
What precisely do we have? We have Mark Lizardman Zuckerberg, who doesn’t even look human. Jack Dorsey who looks like he’s homeless and can’t afford a comb. Oh, and the politicians they buy: the increasingly more zombie like Nancy whom the transfusions of young Chinese prisoner blood might keep alive but certainly doesn’t make happy. The increasingly more hateful and less human Clinton’s. Obama, who given a skin bleacher could pose for movies about the less hinged Roman Emperors, Caligula say. Commie laWhorish with her dead eyes and deranged laugh, finding out that the wages of sin being death would be a relief, considering mostly in her case they seem to be frantic stupidity and a sort of vapid self-adulation that reality continuously undermines.
So, I think the world of Good Men would take a bit more competence, more panache than they can muster.
But who knows? Maybe Winnie the Xi has purchased brighter puppet masters to watch them. So?
So if the worst happens, if this stolen election is allowed to stand, destroying the “representative” part of our republic?
Well, I’m not going to lie to you and tell you that it won’t be very bad. I’ve been praying as hard as a human being can that this shall pass from us. But what if it doesn’t?
First, it’s not our fault. This situation has been in the making since our “elites” went head over heels for Marx a hundred years ago. Oh, and “scientific governance.” As for their despising us, that might be baked in to every system.
But like my considering myself the world’s greatest dunce because I signed some very bad contracts in publishing…. As opposed to what? Precisely? It was the only game in town, and its rigging and the conditions of its being rigged went well before my birth.
Second, it’s not forever. Let’s not fall into the insanity of the left and the Chinese and all those who think they can rig things and they will be forever.
Oh, they’re going to try. But knowing this gang of idiots, it will fall apart in their hands within a couple of years.
Third, there are many ways to fight. Like many of you I have a preference for brutal and direct. Honestly, if it weren’t for the fact I’m very lazy I’d probably be in a maximum security prison. But I’m lazy. I’m also a coward. I’m always terrified just before a fight, particularly against a larger and stronger adversary. BUT—I still join it when I must.
And I’m not going to lie and say it might not be needed. I’ll fight for me, for mine, and for those who are in the process of getting hurt.
Because you do, if you’re human.
But some of us are not by age, condition, or training, best used as shock troops.
You can still fight. Yes, I have this blog. Recently someone gave me a quotation from the book of Esther which they said they felt compelled to give me. It was from the book of Esther and basically said I should use what I have which seems to be in context this blog, insty, my fiction. Well, if I can pull myself up from the depths of depression and the mire of despair, I will, of course.
But there is stuff all of us can do. If you search for Operation Swamp Fox, you’ll find suggestions, but I’m sure you can come up with other stuff.
And most of all, we must cast off this near-teutonic component that has crept into the American character the last fifty years.
Look, the problem with a non-representative government is that they’re not found by the people. They do things that harm the people horribly, as those of us in occupied, vote-frauded states have found, and they don’t care. Because what are you going to do to them, PEASANT? Vote them out? Don’t be ridiculous.
In those circumstances, the only thing a free individual can do is not be bound by the government. Ignore them to the measure of possible, or even impossible. Heck, if you can at all, run across the road to spite them.
Find ways to counterfeit the mask mandates. Gauze. Sheer material. Hell, preferably bare faces and a raised middle finger. I have a medical condition. We ALL do. We’re Americans, born in liberty. In your face, you insane tyrant.
If your restaurant is closed, have you considered reaching out to regulars and asking how they’re doing, and inviting them to dinner at your place. Well, your restaurant, maybe, but maybe a backroom, yes? Just having some friends in for dinner, in staggered batches. And if they want to put some money in the kitty, how are we going to stop them?
We need desperately and immediately, and I don’t have the expertise to do it, and my husband doesn’t have the time, so I’m begging you, tech people who read this: we need something like substack for fiction writers. (Yes, I”ll make one for me. For non fic too, but time… and depression haven’t been with me, not to mention computer magedon (speaking of things being weird, I realized I’m doing to electronics what I did in my teens when I was incredibly unhappy. I walk by them, and they fry. This is a problem.) But we need a dedicated one for Fiction Writers. I looked at Locals, but it’s more…. video?
What we need is something that lets you subscribe to a writer and get that writer’s daily/weekly output and maybe the unedited e-arcs (advanced reading copies) of the books if the author feels like it, for a little more. This doesn’t cut the author off Amazon, because, well, they can erase past-content to bring the book out on Amazon exclusive (as I do with my serialized novels here.) BUT we’ll have a network and a place, so that if/when Amazon goes insane, we can sell there/ make arrangements.
Please, I beg you techies to do it. Yesterday, if possible. And I don’t care if we have five competing versions. Just let me know when you do it, okay?
And we’re going to need back ups for everything they might cut us out of. Which is everything. And you—yes, you—need to come up with some way to make a living if your current way crashes. I’m perfectly willing for you guys to brainstorm in my comments.
This is going to be a lot harder if they do manage to steal the election. A lot harder for them, that is. While we believe the government legitimate we, decent people, will try to follow what they tell us is needed. But now? After the long lie of 2020? F*ck that. If you have to stay embedded use it to mess with their minds. And if you don’t, go rogue with both feet. Don’t buy from the left if you can help it. If you have to sell to the left, charge more. Rule-lawyer them. Make them live their own stupid dictates. Make their life more miserable. (It’s already pretty bad. They’re a sad lot.) And take care of those you love. Oh, and try to accomplish the things you feel you need to. Mine is easy. I tell stories.
Keep your scrap of flag dry. (I will send them out. Computermagedon, health and depression haven’t helped.) Keep your clothes and weapons where you can find them in the dark. Be ready to die, if that’s what’s required, but it’s always better to make the villains die. Be ready to obey if you absolutely have to, but do it as malignantly as possible. And if you don’t have to, hoist middle fingers (that’s why you have a matched set) and be as defiant as you can possibly think to be.
It’s going to require ingenuity and creativity. If it were easy, it wouldn’t need AMERICANS.
Shoulders up, ladies, gentlemen, dragons and minotaurs. Eyes front. Where we’re going we don’t need roads. We’ll make them as we go.
Time is the strangest thing. And you can’t really tell the future. In novels, you can say “and then it was like this for hundreds of years” but that’s rarely true in real life. Even when it’s true, it’s not really at the micro level.
They can take the territory and the bureaucracy, but they’ll never take AMERICA. The leftists, poor things, always discarding the gift and keeping the wrapper.
You can’t kill an idea, and our republic is one of the most powerful the world has seen. Which is why they hate it—and us—so much.
It’s too bad, so sad, because long term, we win, they lose. And at this point we’re pissed off enough they’re going to lose VERY thoroughly.
Make your plans. Get ready to make them really unhappy.
There’s no losing, unless you give up. And the Lieutenant (Heinlein) wouldn’t like that.
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