The Fundamental Transformation

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This Man, or Not 

From prestigious institutions, they hail. Forged heroes schooled in revolt, veiled as warriors for parity, and nature, and law, emerge to rile. Social soldiers, feeble gladiators! Yet, armed with the swords of cause, and race, and equality, and justice; graduate and ride out on white but perfidious steeds, polished and garbed in cloaks of a queer correctness, to build their armies.

With the expert manipulation of the gargantuan matrix of the electron beast, the commanders absorb thousands of already altered minds —and then lock them in step, to march out, to spread their notions, and to do their bidding.

Massive followings of social avatars, set on fire from vile rumors conceived in the sewers of dirty political machines and then ignited and churned by a conspiring “Order of Jesters” of the mighty Box. Doctored rumors colored with exaggerations, filtered omissions, and lies carefully scripted to block and to assure the destruction of those who dare get in the way of the changes that come.

The rumor's broadcast through the mighty horns of the abettor agents of the Box, day in and day out, over and over, and then over again, until the lies become truths. New truths that will serve to sway the unwise, ill-informed masses toward their ultimate endgame: the fundamental transformation of the grand free-thinking democracy into an obedient, loyal controllable herd of socialized sheeple.

Armies of jesters blast their horns from near and far to gather and organize the masses and aim the protest—a powerful, twisted consortium of consolidated energy. Firm in cause and dissent, cruel, callous, destructive, and against our own;  in violent union they disrupt, confuse, distract, and destroy as they work to subvert the tallies of the ballot, laying blemish and anguish over the most precious jewel of our democracy, our Vote.

Add to this, the politicians who expertly exploit our legal system and the generosity of our taxpayers to inject millions by the thousands of unvetted foreign invaders who were allowed to infiltrate our borders and our cities. An explosion of poor, uneducated, and disease-laden people Invited by governors and mayors who open doors without care as they shove our citizens to the side to make room for the multitudes of new freeloading non-citizen… voters?

A bold and bizarre—almost unbelievable—self-executing national suicide plan; right out of the communist playbook. A plot set in motion to demoralize and weaken our proud nation. To morally bankrupt us, and to turn us against ourselves from within. A vile yet brilliantly executed ploy to change us, to convert us, to destroy and replace our democracy. What a novel this story would make! What fools—they and we—have turned us into in the eyes of the world.

Relentless and with stealthy haste they march, shielded by our laws and our precious rights, as they probe deep into the bizarre limits of boundaries untried. Obedient and unyielding in their search for the breach that will bring down the Castle.

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A Neo Nation is born! Where property and earnings of the working are shared with the lazy, the undeserving, and with others from faraway lands and from places unknown. A new nation where writings are reviewed for the good of its subjects. A grand eye, a powerful ear, always watching, always listening—What we drive, where we go, what we eat. What we do at home, at work, at school, and at play. All of course, for the betterment of the collective. 

Welcome all! To the Nation where the Ruler rules over his people, his lands, his gold, and his taxes with the gentle feathers... of his iron fist. 

Welcome! 

To the new Democratic United Socialist States of America. 

DUSSA! 

A Nation without a history, without traditions, without borders, without God; and without the guns that would bravely rise to protect our people, our children, and our way of life, against a government gone awry.

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And as it happened to so many mighty empires and forgotten nations, in their final stages, just before their descent from greatness into the pits of despair—the politicians screamed then, just as ours scream now: “Justice!” “Fairness!” “Equality!” “Resist!” as their cities collapse, and the streets around them… burn!

So daunting and so alike, we shift back towards times in history, near and forgotten. As in the shade, well-groomed, and quiet and eager, and patient… the ruler awaits. So blinded and reckless we saunter; deep into the caves… where the Scorpions Sleep.

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And as it has been thru centuries past; in this early dim of morn, the brisk winds whisper to the colors that fly proud from high and over the effigies that surround our most sacred lawns. The colors that fly high over the pillars of the manors that surround the Grand Mansion, and over the Houses wherein the guardians of our way of life reside and keep their watch—as our nation toils, our mothers sleep, and our children play.

And from beneath the floors of that Grand Mansion, resilient bulbs of Red and White and Blue illume through the cracks in the planks, sending endless beams of bright and valiant light to shine down, and over, and thru the darkest shadows of the gloom; they shine those brightest of lights to the darkest corners of the most distant places, no matter the day, the time, the bend, the rise, or the relief. 

These lights, those colors, always there, always ready to serve, to protect, to defend—our freedoms, our churches, our families, our friends; and our way of life in the lands in which we live. 

But deep in the cellars of the edifice, in the thin-line reflections of those colored lights—in the dirt! The Serpents Slither…. Forked tongues inbred—blood-cold! With gambit and fang in array, in slow creep they slither—aloft they glide—primed and potent—with venom and purpose they ascend. Aye! They smell their prey.   

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Ode to Our Lady

And so, it will be; as sure as the stars emerge into the dark of night. When fade the echoes of the last Gun and Bugle; helpless we will watch—in stun. As we look over the waters, towards that Grand and Gallant ship: once so tall—and proud. And now… so battered, and badly broken.

Betaken with cold yet gently, her helm spins and lifts—high towards the heavens. We gasp as she is consumed ever so slowly—in total silence we stand—staring, as the rest of her recedes into the still and darkened depths of the abyss. Swallowed by the sea.  

Amassed in a great wake of sadness profound; from under black veils, and from behind the fence, we gaze, we squint, we peer, far out onto the waters; crying, hoping, looking, until we see nothing more than a blurred tint in a heated horizon of grey. Until there is nothing left but a gentle murmur in the surf, a faint whisper of the winds through the trees—of what once we were.

And as for Her, Our Diamond, Our Rose, Our Queen. Yet still, so gallant she stands. In somber sorrow we weep. Pained in the heart. Was there anything more that we could have said? Was there anything more that we could have done? To shield her; to save her; from the tears on her robe, the poison in her vein; and from the memory she is to become.

AL Ramirez Jr

9/11/2019               

Epilog:

Long ago, a wise and humble man, before his death, once said:

“Forgive them, for they know not what they do. 

”Perhaps we, as an almost lost, yet still somewhat of a civil society, could find even a small measure of that humility if we just asked ourselves: Am I this man—or not? Do I want to be? May God always bless and light all of the people and all of the children of our Great Nation, and may He always keep her beacon shining bright and strong and free, in all of His glory.

Thank you for reading 

thismanornot.com

copyright, Sept 11, 2019  all rights reserved.