From Where the Sun Now Stands, We Will Not Be Moved
First, let me talk about this picture (h/t Nessa), one of Frederic Remington’s early magazine drawings, from around 1890. I first saw it in the 1960s, when I was in college. It’s not fanciful at all, but a true rendering of a kind of hunting few men could ever summon the courage to try. There are eye witness accounts of this kind of buffalo hunting, called “splitting the herd”.
When I first saw it I thought those were the two bravest men I’d ever seen. But a few years ago I told Moses Sands what I thought about it, and knowing the picture, he said, rather curtly, “Well, you missed it altogether, then.”
(You have to scroll down to near the bottom to see how Moses punctuated that comment, but there’s an analysis in between, which lays out the purpose for it being here in the first place.)
Now, in the past few weeks I’ve done a few “From Where the Sun Now Stands” posts here, in part to try to taunt the Left. I think I made more Mormons angry than I did Lefties. (Everybody’s so damned thin-skinned these day.) But it was only 1-to-3 the Left would bite anyway (a little Vegas lingo there I picked up only last week), and of course, they didn’t. They aren’t allowed. They only squeal when their handlers tell them to squeal, which is why I finished last week with pieces on the media, who’re mouthpieces for the Left’s handlers.
This will be the last piece in that series, only, this is less a taunt…and more a covenant.
Our Rules of Engagement
You already know our 1st rule and I hope you abide by it as well, for it separates us from the more common element. It’s the “John Wayne Code”: Never throw the first punch, but always throw the last.
There’s a corollary to that rule, named for Joseph Reddeford Walker, explorer and pathfinder for John C Fremont, “The Great Pathfinder” and first Republican candidate for President. (My sons bear names associated with both, so these are not mere names to me.) Walker’s 2nd Rule, simply put: Finish it.
In other words, don’t let there be a rematch. These are my Marquis of Queensberry rules for fighting the Left.
As you may also know, my partners and I have been in the analysis business for several years. Sometimes we even get paid for it. (I rarely get out my begging bowl, as I did in LV last week, but am happy to report I think we raised a few bucks for others here on RS with some pressing needs for the coming November election. Let’s hope.) We’re older, and we’ve been around. We know socialists in most of their habitats, from Moscow to Beijing, and now onto Washington.
While Obama is trying to first force us into submission under the sheer weight and intimidation of bureaucracy, hoping we’ll just roll over and accept our fate, I think his troops already know that won’t happen. (see Hogan’s front page piece earlier today about Texas, about which I’ll say more over the weekend.) The die is cast. They will have to come and move us out physically, in operations that will have to be a little bit bigger than a simple local police dragnet.
And thanks to fortitude of the GOP leadership, only one hill separates us now; them on one side, and us, just over the crest, hunkered down, prayerfully counting down the days (about 90 now), keeping our faith with Rule #1, and our powder dry, hoping for the clarion call…soon…when we can go charging off over that hill first.
Right now, history teeters in the balance.
But to be more pointed, History a hundred times bigger than the Crusades or any war. History as momentous and earth shattering as the Reformation, only compressed into two years instead of a century. For here and now Man’s Freedom ends, completely, or rises from near death to stand for a millenium.
And as much as you may not like “history” happening this soon or in this unpretty manner, when you go to bed at night, thank God for the Tea Parties, Glenn Beck, even RedState, and a few others, for having pushed the Left’s time table forward, forcing the Obamaistas to play their hand with far fewer assets than they planned. Better now, than 2012. It’s been a mantra of ours, “throw them off their game plan”. Make them play certain cards too quickly, and discard others. Get out in front of them. They really aren’t that good at extemporaneous planning, or as the old Texas Rangers called it, “fighting on the run.” Below, you’ll see why.
We’ve been trying to size up the “army” of militia, goons, thugs, goose-stepping Black Muslims and cannon fodder they’ll need, trying to estimate just what sort of real assets they have to finally crush freedom in America.
My own view, stated here, is that they really don’t have what it takes. They’re pretty puny in fact, and I haven’t even mentioned our strengths yet. I say this both as encouragement to you, and as a stark notice to them…and those who will send them.
You see, they don’t want to ride us down without us first doing something very criminal in the eyes of the world, as the media will define it. Then they can call in the regularly constituted elements of law enforcement to put us down. So far we haven’t taken the bait. So remember that 1st Rule. Beyond that, they wanted to be able to deputize a posse, actually an army, of men wearing badges, who, once formed and trained, could pretty much tell state police, national guard units and local cops where to stuff it. That’s Obama’s national police force, or Janisseries, or Revolutionary Guard, call them what you like.
The Revolutionary Guard
I take Obama’s words very seriously, and he is a master, even better than Bill Clinton, at using words and phrases with double meanings. Double-nintendos. Hope, change. Transformation. So when he said he wanted to form a national police force with the training, skills and equipment equal to our armed forces, I took him at his word. But that was supposed to be, in our view, a project launched and in process by 2012, ready to march by 2016 when he was to leave office constitutionally. That’s about how long it takes, 4-6 years to train such an army, especially if you’re only fighting defenseless civilians, and I squeezed the time table a little just to accommodate election dates. (Note: You don’t form something like this and then hand it off to the next president in line.) So again, thank all those people who have pushed the Left’s time table forward to 2010, before they’re ready.
Politically, Obama couldn’t get elected in 2012 if he had 10,000 Shabazz crackerjacks standing sentinel at polling places around America. Unless there is some hidden canyon somewhere in Utah sheltering 100,000 trainees, that Revolutionary Guard of his is still on paper. All those kids getting laid off in the private sector were supposed to give a salt and pepper aspect to that new army, but that hasn’t happened yet, either. So they’ve already dipped into Plan B, C or maybe even D to try to find out how they can keep at least an impeachment-proof Congress afloat, so that maybe he can steal 2012. (Obama may not be the first president to be impeached, but he may very well be the first to do time. I was sorta hoping that would be ol’ Bushel Britches, myself, but who am I to quibble with destiny?)
So, for the time being I have to assume Obama’s Revolutionary Guard will not be wearing badges and marching down I-95 with armor back-up anytime soon.
So what about the rest?
Top to bottom, they’re thin, but still bigger and better financed, and better “dressed out” than us. Their numbers are swollen, tens of thousands of’ em, only how well will they fare in a real fight? Face to face? Taken in order of fightability:
If you haven’t noticed, some of our womenfolk have taken direct aim at Obama’s manhood….with a knee. Now a few of our ladies, right here on RedState, could go bear hunting with a switch, so it doesn’t really surprise me that Sarah, who seems to have some Oglala Sioux in her, finally took notice of the effeminate nature of the Left’s leadership. It calls to mind so many villains through history, Obama and Osama right up there among them, who felt they could send forth all sorts of thugs to do their bidding, whilst snuggled away in the safety of a command center way, way to the rear. Now, this isn’t to say they wouldn’t do the dirty…but only if your back is turned, or down some dark alley. But eyeball to eyeball? Precious few, and those are too smart to sign on with this mob. Top to bottom, Obama Force is the shiv in the back, sniper, and bomb-in-the-baby-carriage kind of battle group. I doubt Bill Ayers, if we gave him a single shot revolver at ten paces, and one of our ladies a rubber band, spit ball and a nail file, could escape the field after discharging his pistol without first having lost an eye and gutted like a fish.
So no, they may plan the fight, but they won’t be any help in it.
The Cannon Fodder
These number in the tens of thousands, and can be relied on to show up just at about any event on command, sometimes wearing masks, maybe carrying placards, or arms linked, throwing cups of urine into the face of police, and turning heel and running like hell when the tear gas is set loose. When you snatch one, they scratch and kick and squeal (and the girls kick up a fuss, too), a cop on each limb (sort of like I always dream of Lady Nan right after her sentencing) carrying them to the paddy wagon. This is a kind of dance, a rite, with these kids. What fun!, for in the meeting a few days later, after bail has been set, they all gather and compare notes, awarding John Kerry-like purple hearts for every scratch…especially the embellished ones, for their heroics is always in the retelling “with advantages” (Shakeapeare), assisted by a friendly toke.
This is about as good as they get, and precious few of them at that. Only beware the females of this troop of baboons, they are keener of wit with a meaner look in the eye, and many are able and willing to go to the next level…all this from Bernie who has had the ability to study them up close on the West Coast.
So while they may show up with placards in front of a home, or bombard a senator’s email and phones with death threats and f-bombs (way to go, Scott Brown, you’re an oak), it’s unknown to both us and Obama how well they will fare if ordered into a straight line assault, just over that hill. The vast majority are more in tune with the Lone Haranguer (remember him, from The Wizard of Id?), their only real skill broadcasting that the King, Bush, Christians, conservatives, Republicans, are (effing) finks…all in the security of Mom’s basement Man Cave, still in their matching plaid bathrobe and open-toed houseshoes. Beyond the blood splatters on X-Box, or maybe Tarentino, they have no idea what it really looks like to be hit up side the head with a club, or take a through-and-through in the shoulder. It’s all make believe.
I know how all that make believe works out in real time so I know how they’ll fare. I was there once.
When I was in college, my second year I think, a few friends of mine and I were doing what most guys without dates do on a Friday night, we were sitting around an apartment, drinking and cussing. Suddenly, in burst another friend, huffing and puffing, telling us about how he’d walked his date to the dorm at a smaller college across town and when he had gotten back to car he was accosted by three frat boys, Tri-Delts I think, who pushed and shoved him against his car, and told him to stay away from “good girls, hillbilly.” I guess they’d noticed his license plate. Well, liquor rules apply, as most of you know, and as quick as a wink, we were four to a car, after first rummaging from the trunk a tire iron and chains, and anything else that would inflict damage. By the time we got there it must have been well past 1AM, and we spent a full thirty-forty minutes scouring the parking lots trying to find those three “eeeethnicists”, telling everyone we saw we were looking for them.
Did I tell you that cold air and time produces a sobering effect? I can still remember some of the thoughts that raced through my mind that cold night…as I’m sure it did the others…such as what a tire iron actually feels like as it digs a quarter inch into a guy’s skull? What if I killed him? It could happen. Or just fractured his head? What if he had weapon, too? A gun? What if the cops came…there sure was a helluva lot of people who knew we were there…at 2-damned-AM? I thought of being expelled, or going to jail, or worse, having to face my father.
You already know how this plays out, as I believe all eight of us were thinking the same deep thoughts, so when those fellows finally did come out of the dorms…in their bathrobes!…we settled for a few exchanges which might have included an apology, I don’t recall, then we all breathed a private sigh of relief and drove home….stone cold sober.
Now you know everything you need to know about the condition called the “piss and vinegar” years of a boy’s life, even for gameboys playing Halo on X-Box. It belongs to the age group roughly 18-24. Whether Nintendo or Budweiser, it’s all make believe, false bravado laced with all kinds of gestures, chest thumping and cuss words. Just three years later, sworn in as an infantry second lieutenant, I found out you could do all that stuff legally, with training, the proper tools and some reasonable expectation of success. Someone even (usually) had your back, which you can never rely on in a street brawl. And Dad was even proud, not humiliated.
So Bernie’s right, watch out for the babes coming over that hill. But the vast majority of the bathrobe army, long before they can see the blacks of our eyes, their courage will desert them, and they will turn heel. Ten percent won’t. Those are the war lovers, and whether out of some dark past experience, or simply some hole in their soul, knowing nothing about what they about to do, still know it is better than anything else. In an army as big as Obama has, this number can still be significantly larger than we are.
The New Black Panther, et al.
I’ll dismiss this bunch out of hand even though they are well armed, and have some rudiments of leadership and working as units. They seem to drill well. We are not likely to see them on our battlefield, unless the country is destroyed by a meteor and they have to leave the cities foraging for food. You will find small units in virtually every American inner city, where everyone, even “rival gangs” cut them a swath. I’ve spoken of this bunch before, they are “turf bound”, and much like a video game warrior, they lose power points the further they move away from their home base. So the Philadelphia crew would lose half their points by the time they got to Chester, and would be little more than armed kids from the ‘hood by the time they got on the Turnpike, assuming they could find it without Garmin. They just ain’t any good at sallying forth.
If the Left has shock troops, this is them. You’ve seen their handiwork already, beating up old people at Tea Party rallies, including some old black man in a wheel chair, recalling to me one of Richard Widmark’s c1950 film noire role as a gangster who pushed an old lady in a wheel chair down a flight of stairs. Probably the meanest thing done I’ve ever seen in film.
We have a writer here on RedState named LaborUnionReport, who also hosts his own website, and is nationally known for what he knows about unions and their thuggery. (Any time you see one of his diaries here, read it and share it.) We’ve shared notes, and even pondered together, as to how some of this union thuggery might be chilled. But that has to do with dealing with them on their turf and in places they like to do their business. It takes money, organization, and a different kind of army to square off with them there. But coming for us, over that hill, I see them as the vanguard, the shock troops of Obama’s assault forces, since he doesn’t have that Revolutionary Guard in place yet.
As with Richard Widmark, they have all the requisite meanness to carry out most battle plans for the Left. Most of them would push an old lady over a bannister for 50 bucks. But that’s their biggest problem, they have to be paid. They’re Hessians, fergodsakes. Privateers. Very few are actually down for any cause, just the extra money, and for some, maybe satisfying some inner need to kick old ladies. They are mostly goons, in other words. So no one knows just how far over that hill they will charge when met with real face-to-face resistance that isn’t being paid by the job, or in wheelchairs. We’ll see, I guess. Personally, I’m not sure SEIU can pay them enough, especially since their wives think they’re out bowling. The last thing they want their wives to see is them come home from bowling draped over the hood of a PT Cruiser. There’d be hell to pay then, for sure. (A little double nintendo of my own there, huh?)
So, I’ve said they are pretty thin. War lovers, thugs, goons and sadists, mostly for hire, or the blood lust, their Moriarty’s hiding out in some cave in Maryland, versus us, we few, we happy few, who, last I checked, aren’t being paid squat. But that’s just one of our advantages. There are others:
Coming full circle, this takes me back to that drawing by Remington, and Moses Sands’ punctuation, when I said those were the bravest men I’d ever seen. Moses said, “No, that ain’t bravery…
…that is supreme confidence.”
You see, Tea Partiers, Patriots, RedStaters here, are for the most part old….er. We are mature. We are experienced. Some of us have been shot at. Some of us have even been hit. Our knuckles have been broken (in my case nose, twice) so we know certain kinds of pain, both in the inflicting and the receiving ends many don’t. And we fight without being paid, which should tell all of you that we have something in our ammo pouch the Left does not have. All in all, our chin is set, our jaws firm, our hands don’t tremble and our fingers don’t quiver. And our eyes black as coal.
So when you cross that hill the only white you will see will be the gleam of our teeth, for you see, we smile a lot. After all, what an honor to be among the lucky few who get to stand shoulder to shoulder on this spot in history, and thank our Maker for it…and we’ll all be happy to introduce you to our Maker as soon as you will make yourselves available.
The odds? Well we figure 20 to 1, and considering all the elements mentioned here…still allows us time to bend over and reload. We’ve scrutinized your troops pretty well, and we know our abilities. You’re surrounded….
So, from where the sun now stands, we will not be moved, and you shall not pass.
And if you’re wondering, if you can win by stealing elections instead of facing off with us, and drowning the people in bureaucracy, will we go into our basements and our caves to carry on the fight? In the words of Reddeford Walker, “That remains to be saw.”
Either way, Rule 2 applies.