Hasta La Vista Kim Baby!

Kim Jung Il’s life: a soliloquy in lunacy and madness.

Often the sages admonish
Oh Death, be not so proud
A tender soul’s last wish
The welfare of others be allowed

Death unkind, strikes indiscriminate
History records with only a wretched few
Death comes not soon enough to elate
The drop of his miserable carcass in its tomb

This could well be a scripted scene from a remake of Orwell’s 1984:

This is a more realistic response.

The world awaits the apparent madness of the heir apparent and the ubiquitous and fawning attention by our State Department to insure adequate supplies for the country and an effortless transition of power from one totalitarian despot to another, like when we aided Kim and his transition of ultimate Nepotism.

From the pen of Hitchens, 2005:

One tries to avoid cliché, and I did my best on a visit to this terrifying country in the year 2000, but George Orwell’s 1984was published at about the time that Kim Il Sung set up his system, and it really is as if he got hold of an early copy of the novel and used it as a blueprint. (“Hmmm … good book. Let’s see if we can make it work.”)

Actually, North Korea is rather worse than Orwell’s dystopia. There would be no way, in the capital city of Pyongyang, to wander off and get lost in the slums, let alone to rent an off-the-record love nest in a room over a shop. Everybody in the city has to be at home and in bed by curfew time, when all the lights go off (if they haven’t already failed). A recent nighttime photograph of the Korean peninsula from outer space shows something that no “free-world” propaganda could invent: a blaze of electric light all over the southern half, stopping exactly at the demilitarized zone and becoming an area of darkness in the north.

Kim, Rest In Hell, you evil bastard!

In between the establishment GOP elected elite and their fellow pundits, all in an uproar about Newt’s rise in the polls, and the Ron Paul supporters pouring on the steam pushing their guy… let’s have another type of fun, shall we? After all, these are the days when people like Palin and Cain are tried in the court of public opinion based on past confessions and accusations. It would be a pity to leave Obama out of our new age justice system.

Seems that an old story is rebounding via Selwyn Duke over at the New American today. An old Occidental College contemporary of Obama’s three decades ago – John Drew, himself a self-described Marxist at the time – says that Obama was an “ardent Marxist-Leninist” during his years there, and as of today, Drew doesn’t think he’s changed one iota.

Drew doesn’t believe the President has changed, either, and I agree. I explained why in a follow-up to Kengor’s piece, writing:

Some may say that a person can change markedly over a 30-year period. This is true.

…Yet a transition from flat-out “Marxist-Leninist” to someone who rejects the red menace is a pretty big change, don’t you think? In fact, wouldn’t such a personal evolution — some might say revolution — be a kind of conversion? I think so.

…There’s an interesting thing, however, about conversions.

You hear about them.

You see, a conversion is a sea change, a rebirth, a turning point in your existence. You may become, as Christians say, a new creation, and you’re at least a reformed old one. And you reflect your new state of being and often want to voice it.

And those around you will know about it.

As for this writer, everyone who knows me would say that my religious conversion was a seminal point in my life.

Now consider something. Barack Obama is one of the most famous, most discussed individuals on the planet.

But we have not heard about any soul-changing conversion in his life.

Not a whisper.

Nothing.

Nothing that could reconcile the flat-out Marxist-Leninist Obama was in his college days with the man he supposedly is today. There’s no one who says, “Yeah, he was a radical guy in his youth, and I just couldn’t believe how he became disenchanted with his old ideas.”

At the time, Drew…who says he “…was a more nuanced Marxist”… attempted to convince Obama that old style Communist revolution was unrealistic for Western nations. Obama, disagreeing, considered Drew a “reactionary”, and would have none of that nonsense.

But, as referenced above in his article today, Mr. Duke was not the first to report on John Drew’s emergence with his not so surprising revelation of Obama’s penchant for Marxism. That would actually be American Thinker’s Paul Kengor, who, in his article one day shy of a year ago, called John Drew “Obama’s Missing Link”. Drew surfaced about a year before Kengor penned the article, contacting him after reading an piece he had written on Frank Davis and Obama. Apparently, like so many these days, he had something he wanted to get off his chest.

Drew had some significant experiences to share, and he e-mailed me just before I turned in my final manuscript. I concluded that he was legitimate (no question) and recorded his testimony at length.

Drew was a contemporary of Obama at Occidental College and a Marxist himself. In fact, Drew was a well-known campus communist when Obama was introduced to him as “one of us.” “Obama was already an ardent Marxist when I met in the fall of 1980,” said Drew, going on the record.

Drew is certainly cognizant of the gravity of his statement. “I know it’s incendiary to say this,” he adds, but Obama “was basically a Marxist-Leninist.” He noted how Obama, in Dreams from My Father, stated that when he got to college, he attended “socialist conferences” and “hung out” with Marxist professors. But what Obama did not explain or clarify, says Dr. Drew, is that Obama “was in 100 percent, total agreement with these Marxist professors.”

At the time of that writing, Drew admitted he did not know the POTUS today, so could only comment on the Obama college student he knew. But after three years of Obama in the WH, that no longer appears to be the case. The decades ago discussion about the feasibility of modern day Communist revolutions – and which one was the more radical – bears repeating verbatim.

Drew doesn’t believe the President has changed, either, and I agree.

~~~

In fact, Drew states that while he was a more nuanced Marxist who tried to convince Obama that old-style communist revolution was unrealistic in the West, the future President would have none of it and considered Drew a “reactionary.”

So what say ye? Since we’ve crucified past GOP candidates and conservatives, based on little more than an accuser from the past, coming forward, shall we do the same to Obama? While Selwyn Duke didn’t equate the trial-by-media mentality into which we have evolved, he did touch on that observation indirectly in his piece…

Perhaps we don’t have proof beyond a reasonable doubt that would stand up in a criminal proceeding for either of the above propositions. But asking for it is unreasonable and irresponsible. In the court of public opinion, there must be no higher burden than in a civil court: a preponderance of the evidence. And a preponderance of it in the President’s case points to a simple conclusion: Barack Obama is likely a communist or communist sympathizer.

Have fun… it will give everyone a chance to vent their frustrations and anger out on someone who isn’t a GOP candidate for a change.

Prologue: This is a story of two Stone Age chieftains, who migrated to America during the last Ice Age, approximately twenty thousand years ago: one came from the East and one came from the West, but before you begin to recite the teachings of Archaeology from twenty years ago, you might be surprised to know of startling new discoveries about the migration of man and the inconvenient facts surrounding the theories of Anthropomorphic Global Warming.

The Whale People, Their Homeland (Europe’s Western Coast, now submerged)

Yellow Hair was an anomaly; he was ancient, almost forty years old, but strongest among all the men of the Whale People. He was chief of the Whale People, and he ruled his tribe with rules etched in flint. Breaking the rules often meant death for the offender; for life was a tedious and constant struggle between survival and death, and death came all too often twenty-thousand years ago, during the height of the last great Ice Age in the area off the coast of Western France.

Much of the world’s water was locked up in ice sheets that a mile high covering much of Europe, Asia, and North America; in fact, the ice sheets covered one-third of the earth’s land masses and depleted the oceans of so much water, the ocean depths were a hundred meters less than they are now. There were coast lines connecting Europe with North America, and Asia with North America, they extended nearly a thousand miles from north to south on each corridor. It was a temperate area of grasslands and coniferous forests with limited precipitation, because of the amount of water frozen in the glaciers. There were thousands of creeks and rivers fed by springs and lakes that are now a hundred meters under water. It was a harsh ecosystem that supported the mastodon, a creature much larger than the elephant, as well as musk ox, giant sloths, saber toothed tigers, large bears, caribou, giant moose, elk, horses, and camels, all of whom migrated freely back and forth from Asia and Europe to North America.

No one knows why the giant glaciers appeared or why they receded, but the Ice Ages were real events in the story of the earth; the Ice Ages spanned tens of thousands of years and facilitated the dispersal of man all over the world.

The Whale People were a hardy bunch that had drawn their genetic pools from the blue and green eyed traders from the East, the tall, blonde haired, white skinned people from the land to the North, and the darker people of the South. It was a fairly short walk from North Africa to what would become Spain; the drought conditions of the world brought on by so much water being sequestered in ice forced many of the darker people of Africa to migrate north to be near the life giving water from glacial melt in summer and the springs that formed creeks and rivers on the Southern boundaries of the European Glacier and to the western shores of Spain and France.

The Whale People had originally occupied a coastal area that was next to the Southern ice shield of Europe approximately twenty-thousand years ago. Almost nothing could survive on these ever increasing glaciers that covered large portions of the continents, but there was a strip of new land exposed from the ocean depths, extending well beyond our present shorelines, because of so much of the earth’s water being frozen in the glaciers. This strip of land was warmed by the ocean, but it still remained a cold climate in summer, from the cooling effects of the great mass of ice on its borders. On this narrow strip of land, a micro-climate existed that had allowed animals, grasses, and a few hardy trees to proliferate in a wondrous abundance for tens of thousands of years, but the pressure by humans and the ever encroaching ice was reducing the availability of food sources and thus the livable space was under fierce competition by all species, but the competition among humans was the probably the fiercest.

Yellow Hair’s tribe had occupied the Southern coastal regions since the beginning of time or at least as far back as their oral history recorded their time here on earth. Yellow Hair wasn’t a singer who memorized the family lines and history of his tribe, but he knew his fathers had been chiefs far back in time. He had remembered his fathers and his personal history by assigning each of them, one of his fingers. He could go back in time by looking at a finger and tell you the name of that father, going back in time, nine generations.

The Ice People, The Migration (From Central Asia)

Tiger Paw loved to hunt and here in the land of the North Star, this land the North People call Beringia (the land bridge connecting Siberia to Alaska), the hunting was better than in the stories of the First Days.

It was told in the oral traditions of history, on the nights of the full moon, of how his people, the Ice People, had followed the herds over the Great Grasslands and forests to the West, just South of the great walls of ice. In the beginning, they were the first people, because the Father of the Ice had shown them great favor by providing them with flint for spears and the many animals to hunt. At first everyone was hungry during the winter, but the Father of the Ice liked the Ice People and gave them the beasts of the Steppes and the stone technology to kill the beasts, he also gave them fire and taught the women how to cook and how to brain tan furs and leather.

They learned that the brain of each animal, when allowed to break down to a gelatinous mass in a covered ceramic bowl, was sufficient to tan its own hide. They marveled at the skills of the ice Father and how he put all these mysteries of life within reach of those with the intelligence to figure out the answers. The Ice Father taught the women to love the hunters and to entertain them at night, so the tribe would be happy and always have new little ones.

Tiger Paw’s belief was essentially correct in the oral history of his tribe, but his concept of time wasn’t capable of comprehending the enormity of his tribe’s migration. His ancestors started moving east through the mountains and grasslands of Southern Russia and Northern Asia, several thousand years ago. Using the logic of 20,000 years ago, they figured the sun was always refueled in the East and traveled overhead to the West, only to get tired at the end of each day, needing to sleep through the night to be strong and hot the next morning, much like the hunter who hunts all day, breeds his woman at night, and then sleeps to be strong in the morning. They wanted to see this land where the sun is refreshed; there is surely much fuel to warm the sun, just beyond the horizon to the east. Sadly, the sun seemed to be weakening, because the great ice sheets were getting larger and eating more and more land. They were over a mile high and moving to the South at the rate of several man strides every day.

The idea of a great source of fuel to the East, was essentially the idea for migrating to the East. For over a thousand years, they followed the basic idea of moving east, always east. There were hostile tribes to contend with and periods of starvation coupled with disease, but they kept moving east.

Their culture and customs were ill suited for sedentary life. It was a simple matter of hygiene; a concept that was understood by sedentary tribes, for they knew that human waste was dangerous and should be deposited in a hole dug specifically for that purpose, they also understood the need to maintain clean drinking water.

It seems a simple concept, but migrating people rarely suffered from the ravages of cholera and dysentery, for they rarely made camp for longer than it took for a kill to be consumed or to spoil, except in the winter and the effects of disease were lessened during the extreme cold of winter.

Sedentary tribes, without cultural customs for contending with human waste, were condemned to die of disease if they stayed too long in one place. The problem was self-correcting in time, since tribes that lacked certain cultural conventions were weakened and often annihilated by other tribes who looked upon them as unclean or they simply died out from the ravages of disease.

During the migration of the Ice People, they had acquired many customs from the women they had traded for and the occasional lost hunter they had adopted. Even though Tiger Paw believed his tribe to be the only true people walking the earth, he understood advantages in acquiring new people with new technologies and customs.

The Whale People of Europe

Nine generations would place Yellow Hair’s father in the time when the great mother whale, Olalla of the big wild salt water, gave birth to man and all the creatures of the earth. In Yellow Hair’s mind, his distant relative was the first human to slide through Olalla’s birth canal and swim to shore; therefore, his birthright was one of leadership and a semi-divinity, for he was a direct descendant of Olalla. He couldn’t explain the bloodlines of other people or even those in his tribe and he forbid himself and others from asking frivolous questions that complicate the simple explanations of their life.

It was this natural birth of Yellow Hair’s relative that intrigued the Whale People and provided the common bond that held them together. The secrets of their existence and their connection with divinity was thought to exist through the navel of Yellow Hair, for that umbilical connection was directly related to Olalla the Whale Mother who had birthed the first relative of Yellow Hair, the very first human.

Unfortunately, it was the natural scheme of their life that was in jeopardy at this time; for the success of the Whale People made them the envy of many tribes. They had mastered the science of not only trapping great bounties of salmon in the rivers, but more importantly, they smoked and dried the salmon over smoldering fires to preserve them for months. This was a quantum leap in technology for the people of the world. News spread for over a thousand miles to the East along with the tasty morsels of the pink colored fish flesh.

Tribes with many huge warriors and advanced stone weapons ventured into the traditional lands of the Salmon People and brought many wondrous trade goods to trade for the smoked salmon of the Whale People. Trade was good for the Whale people, but some of these tribes decided to stay and there were now tribes camped in their winter hunting grounds and on their fishing grounds.

The winters were too cold to fish in the great salt water and the rivers and creeks were frozen. Rather than eat smoked salmon all winter, the Whale people had learned the different migration routes of the Caribou and devised traps to catch the Caribou in blind canyons for the winter. If there was enough feed for the Caribou, they would slaughter them as they needed meat; if the valley floor ran out of the lichens that the Caribou eat, they would slaughter them all at once and smoke the flesh like that of the salmon. In a gaunt world of starvation and hardship, the Whale People lived in a world of plenty.

They were happy to live under the leadership of Yellow Hair; not only was he divine, but he was a fair and intelligent leader, who could sense when and where the Caribou were migrating and when the Salmon started their runs or when there was a whale trapped in a small estuary by the tide. His people made boats with oak frames with greased leather for hulls that worked well if you kept the hide well greased with seal oil or whale blubber.

If his people observed the rules, they lived in harmony within the group: if they broke the law, Yellow Hair might cut their throat or trade them into slavery. He was feared, but loved as well. He was the nucleus that kept his tribe strong.

In these early days and up up until the present, there were several aspects of a society that needed to be worked into a particular culture for that society to exist and thrive. Survival, procreation, food, and leadership were all important elements that had to be defined culturally for a tribe to exist. If the rules or laws were broken, the society broke down.

Yellow Hair could control his own people; unfortunately, there were other tribes moving in and occupying their traditional Caribou hunting grounds. They observed the Caribou techniques of the Whale People and just repaired the log fences and gaits while waiting for the Caribou to pass through the mountain valleys.

This was no problem for Yellow Hair, he knew the mountain passes and could divert the Caribou with fire and by dressing his men in wolf and bear hides to drive the Caribou into different blind canyons. He would just build new gaits and fences at the entrances. These new people would have to live off the few Caribou that might be separated and the odd elk, horse, camel, or moose they could kill. If they were desperate or if they found a mastodon trapped in mud or lame, they could fight the mastodon to the death, for it was only possible to kill one at great risk to the hunters. He knew these new green and blue eyed people would often be facing starvation and that the Whale People almost always had plenty of Caribou and fish; therefore, they were at risk from these starving tribes.

These interlopers should have stayed in their own country, Yellow Hair reasoned. They were unfit for life between the ice and the salt sea. Their eyes were light colored and they suffered from the sun’s glare, their skin was too white in color and they couldn’t work naked in the glacier fed waters to catch the salmon. They didn’t engage in ritual washing and smoking their bodies in the traditional way. That alone prevented them from being hardy enough to survive the fierce cold and winds of these ancient lands. The blue and green eyed people were weak beyond measure, but they were large people and dangerous.

Yellow Hair knew he carried the seed of the first human, but it was this first human’s lusty ways and hunger for wild women of the forests that had produced all these uncultured barbarians. This ancient father had produced these excess humans of his own blood, and were now posing a threat to the very existence of the Whale People.

Yellow Hair had little sympathy for weakness, he had seen a weakness of character in the previous chief, his own father, and challenged the chief to personal combat for leadership of the tribe and to possess the young princess wife of his father. He killed his own father and claimed his father’s earthly goods and wives as his own. He was hardy enough, but that was back when men were men. (The weakest of the men was many times stronger than an NFL linebacker.) In those early days they hunted and killed the near humans for sport. There weren’t enough of them left now to worry over; besides, they can’t speak words, the men run like pregnant women, and they make the crudest tools and weapons. They are laughable, but in a wrestling match they are deadly, for they are strong like the mastodon. No, it is much safer to kill them with spears from a goodly distance. The near humans’s muscles are so large, they can only thrust a spear, if they try to throw a spear it is laughable.

He didn’t like to think about it, but these near humans, might be the result of his relative, the First Human, coupling with some creature of the forest. It was an ugly thought, but how else do you explain the presence of these near humans. He tried not to dwell on the negative aspects of the heritage of the First Human, but sometimes this irresponsible behavior of his family was embarrassing and impossible to ignore.

Yellow Hair had several wives and at least nine children, aged from twenty-four years to one winter. He enjoyed his kids; however, they were expected to meet the same requirements for life and work as everyone else, if the rules were relaxed for his family, he knew there would be resentment among his people.

Women who chose a mate from another tribe were expected to leave, but if a suitable mate was a loner and could prove himself as far as fishing, hunting, courage, and work, he could be accepted into the tribe. Yellow Hair would never allow slackers and free loaders a wooden soup bowl; charming a maiden of his tribe, did not warrant a free meal around the cook fire.

Everyone had to contribute with meaningful work or be banished or possibly executed by Yellow Hair. Life was a precious gift, but the nature of living next to the ice made it imperative that everyone worked to insure survival of the group. When the Salmon got lost and didn’t return to their rivers and creeks in sufficient numbers or the Caribou were called by Olalla to rest a year and not migrate, the old frail people were expected to walk alone into the night and not return, infanticide was also practiced to keep the numbers of the tribe down when food was scarce to help keep the nutritional requirements low. There were always hard decisions to be made, but the Whale People realized they must be ready to sacrifice just to survive next to the ice.

Killing a huge mastodon could mean survival through the winter, but unless they were mired in a bog hole or suffering from a severe lameness, it was far too dangerous to try and kill them and even when they were trapped, it often took hours to kill the monsters and many times his hunters were killed as well.

Sea lions were also dangerous to kill for they could travel much faster than a man can run. They were usually killed with a fusillade of spears when the animal was caught sunning himself beneath a ledge. The spears were made with sharp narrow points and heavier shafts, but the lighter javelin was also used, these weapons were designed to penetrate a tough hide and several layers of blubber; unless, the spear throws were lethal, the animal would run to the sea to escape and a valuable cache of spears and javelins would be lost with him. The sea lions were unafraid of humans and would run over a man who stood in his way as if he wasn’t there. The man would be crushed under several tons of sea lion, traveling faster than a horse.

The wild horses were trapped in blind canyons like the caribou, but they were more wary than the caribou and often sensed a trap and would turn just before being caught, to run over the men and sacrifice a few members of the herd to insure that the herd would survive.

Stealth and hunting discipline was primary in killing any of these animals, for even though man was a strong lethal killer, if an animal turned to fight and a man was caught without his weapon, humans always died. Yellow Hair explained to his elder sons, Sea Otter and Ivory Tusk, that Olalla, the whale mother that had birthed their first father, had given them superior brains to stand against the fierce animals of the grasslands and the ocean; otherwise they would have starved long ago. They accepted these truths without question; yet, there were many unanswered mysteries for the twenty year old lads.

The Ice People of Asia

Often the men had some hunting trick or knowledge of nature that helped them secure food: the women the hunters acquired for wives, always brought new knowledge of food preparation and garment making that made life better for the Ice People.

Several generations ago, the Ice People adopted a small band of tiny people with black silky hair (from the tribes that would form Japan, then a mountainous area connected to Asia and on the Eastern shore of a large lake). Their tribe had been wiped out by barbarians and they were starving. Chief Four Fingers, Tiger Paw’s grandfather, was intrigued by the women and thought if they had some meat on their bones they would be intriguing bed warmers.

The kindness shown by Four Fingers was rewarded not only by having attractive bed warmers, but these people were excellent fishermen, they also knew how to smoke fish and meats, but most importantly, they understood boatbuilding and using a mast with a short gaff rigged sail and rudder.

Although, the Ice People were on the coast, it is important to remember that so much water was frozen in the great ice sheets, that the ocean depth was reduced by over a hundred meters. The land bridge connecting Alaska and Siberia was over a thousand miles wide. Coastal areas often extended hundreds of miles farther into the sea than they do now. Thousands of rivers and creeks existed that are now on the sea floor. Beringia was a dry grassland that teemed with migrating herds traveling freely between Asia and North America.

Four Fingers had welcomed these fishermen into the tribe and did his best to insure the little people adopted the Ice Culture, but the technology that was gained by the little people was transforming their culture. He was primarily concerned with the combining the two DNA groups by spreading his seed around as much as possible, but the cultural and technological aspects of these ancient fishermen kept the Ice People from starving many times.

The original DNA pool of the Ice People had been slowly diluted for thousands of years as they traveled through Asia, along the borders of the ice; but rather than weakening the gene pool of the Ice People, they became stronger. Instead of a fair-haired tribe with green and blue eyes, they were primarily dark haired people with almond eyes. There would be an occasional child born with round blue eyes and fair hair, amid great laughter and jokes directed toward the mother and father, but the Ice People were a loving people and the throwback was always accepted as one of the true people.

The Ice People had managed to keep their own numbers close to one hundred hunters, not counting women and children. They lived well, but there were dangers from larger hostile tribes. Many tribes were driven into Beringia by starvation, but killing the great mastodon required advanced hunting skills and coordination among hunters; and yet, the skills for hunting horses, camels, muskox, caribou, and other animals of this huge grassland were advanced as well. Fishing required the skills and knowledge for building fish traps and a willingness to work naked in near freezing cold water. Boat building skills consisted of carefully burning and scraping a log with sharp instruments, until a boat shaped form appeared. Their sails were abbreviated, since the heavy keel technology would take thousands of years to be discovered; however, with paddles, these fairly fast, sleek canoe type vessels could be used for fishing and sealing and perhaps more importantly for continued migration to the land of fuel to the East.

The Ice People were hunting and fishing on the Northern edge of the glacier that extended into Southern British Columbia and north into the Yukon and Alaska. Although, it was an enormous glacier, in comparison to the glacier to the East, covering the rest of Canada and much of the US, it was a miniature glacier. Tiger Paw’s People knew there was a corridor of excellent winter hunting between the two glaciers, but they were also enjoying excellent fishing and sealing in the stormy salt sea, during the summer months.

Life was good for the Ice People, but with success in the struggle for life, comes those who want to steal that success.

The Whale People of Europe

Both of Yellow Hair’s sons had chosen good mates from outside the tribe. Yellow Hair had examined the potential mates closely for sickness or deformities and then deemed them sound women suitable for work and childbirth. He had paid a man’s weight in smoked salmon and several pairs of winter moccasins for the young girls, but each one had been an excellent purchase from the barbarian tribes of green and blue eyes, since they each produced a healthy son for the tribe. Thus his tribe would be guaranteed to survive with the superior intellect and knowledge that Yellow Hair was passing on to his sons. Yellow Hair was respected by his tribe for his infinite knowledge of nature, animals, survival, food preservation, weather, the seasons, and the land itself.

Mates were an important aspect of tribal life, adultery was not permitted without a formal declaration by a woman in front of the tribe at dinner. A man could have several wives if he could care for them, but if one of them stated her desire to be with another, there might be a fight to the death or the choice might go unchallenged for various reasons. Yellow Hair was a detached observer and official of these domestic disputes. Someone might die in a fight as a result of hard feelings and tempestuous desires, so the divorce option was not to be taken lightly. He thought it was a good system that helped keep his tribe strong and stable and especially, in helping to control these wild mating desires of both men and women.

Yellow Hair liked to keep about a hundred men in the tribe and twice that many women. The number of children fluctuated, because so many children died from the harsh life. It was obvious that Olalla wanted only the strongest of children to survive and she had to test them every winter. Everyone was expected to work in the cold glaciers streams to help catch the salmon and the boys were expected to join in the difficult and dangerous hunts. The work of women was much safer, but many of them died in childbirth, so in time, Olalla provided twice as many women as men. Yellow Hair also purchased wives for his men, when there always seemed to be a shortage of unmarried women.

He gave them a thorough physical exam before purchase. He demanded clear eyes, preferably of the earth colors and not the colors of plants and sky, broad hips for child birth, good sound teeth that met in a fairly uniform manner, well formed milk paps, and a well formed birth canal with no infection.

He had an unfortunate incident in the past, a woman was infected and gave birth to two blind children. Yellow Hair had been forced to kill the babies and after becoming suspicious, he examined the woman and discovered that she was infected. He killed her and drove her husband out of the village to prevent the spread of infection to other members of the tribe. He hesitated to only banish the man, who was a cousin of his, rather than kill him, for he knew the infection would probably continue through the populations of other tribes.

Yellow Hair had picked his eldest son, Ivory Tusk, to succeed him as chief. The lad was strong, had good eyes, and an uncanny way of understanding the animals and fish. He was a good strong son.

It all happened very quickly. A group of several tribes raided the fishing camp in the early morning before the sun chased away the thick fog. They intended to kill and rob the Whale People of their dried salmon. Many of the Whale men were overwhelmed and killed, the survivors were forced to retreat to their canoes. They lost over half the adults and most of the children in the initial minutes of the attack. They had few personal belongings with them, but they felt lucky to escape with their lives. They pushed the canoes into the surf as spears were landing around them. They managed to retrieve a few of the spears that were thrown, but they escaped with only a few stones for knives and a few spears.

Yellow Hair counted people, there were forty-five men and twenty-three women with just a few suckling children and adolescents that had survived the raid. They had suffered a terrible defeat. The raiders might be following them in the extra canoes, they kept paddling all day to the North. Ivory Tusk was wounded in the gut and in a few hours, he could no longer continue to paddle. Yellow Hair took the time to transfer him to his canoe.

He looked his brave, handsome son in the eye and felt tears for the first time, since he was a child. “Olalla is calling you home” he said, “You have the chance to see her in this world, before you cross over to the spirit world. Are you ready, to see the Whale Mother?”

Ivory Tusk nodded his head, yes, and looked to the blue sky of morning, while thongs secured his legs and arms to prevent him from swimming and prolonging his agony. He was proud to be a strong leader like his father and made sure to maintain his honor and dignity as the men prepared him for the depths.

His father said to him, “We will sing of you at the winter fires and I will see you in the Spirit World, my son,” as he slipped his son’s bound body into the great salt sea.

The Whale People all said their goodbyes as Ivory Tusk disappeared under the waves and still looking up at them, the Whale People then resumed paddling as the storm clouds began forming.

The Ice People of Asia

Tiger Paw knew there were food thefts taking place by some of the other tribes and some of them were making threatening signs at kill sites. Life was hard in Beringia, starvation was everywhere, the Ice People were well fed, their women had meat on their bones and produced children every year or two; they were successful, but the other tribes wanted this good life and the riches associated with success and eating well.

The Ice People had a simple life and a simple formula for success, but it required a keen observation of nature, the intelligence to apply the skills of hunting, and the willingness to work tirelessly to secure food; for everything was easier if you secured food. If you had excess food, like dried and smoked fish and meat, you could trade for tools, weapons, furs, and women.

Tribes who weren’t successful had to trade their women and girls for food to live; eventually, the young men of less successful tribes became despondent and angry. They looked at the wealth of Tiger Paw’s people and wondered why their tribe wasn’t rich with the bounty of the world. After all, the bounty was put on earth for everyone, all the tribes should have healthy women and dried fish; the Ice People were just acting like bears, they took their share and everyone else’s share as well.

Blue Duck, the only son of Chief One Eye, of the Muskeg people, was one of those consumed with envy and hatred. He and several of his companions watched as a small band of Ice People brought down one of the giant moose with several well placed spear throws. He was incredulous that women accompanied the men on the hunt. This fact alone made his heart burn with hatred and anger; these people had no respect for the ancient customs of his people and now they were going to enjoy the tasty internal morsels of this magnificent animal, an animal that rightfully belonged to Blue Duck and his people. He decided it was time for the Muskeg people to assert their authority over the greedy tribes of the world and take what is rightfully theirs.

The three men of the Ice People had the moose deboned and cut into roast sized pieces that were packed into six backpacks, while the women prepared a feast of the heart and liver cut into small chunks and stuffed into the stomach with blueberries, onions, and edible grasses that the moose had eaten on his own. The stomach was roasted over the coals until it swelled and pressure cooked the contents into a nutritious feast for the three couples.

Blue Duck gathered his hunters around him and devised a plan; they would sneak up on the camp and attack the group when they started to eat the wrongfully acquired feast. They would kill the men and try to capture the women; if the women fought too hard, they would kill them as well. They would then eat the feast and pack the meat back to their own camp. It was a momentous decision, the men were reluctant to resort to murder and theft, but their stomachs had been empty for a week and they had not known a woman for months.

Blue Duck had five men to attack three men and three women in a camp that was celebrating. It was almost dark by the time they had crawled close enough to hear the Ice People laughing and talking. They crawled to within several caribou strides, just after dark. The stomach had the entrance and exit sections tied in a knot and it was under extreme pressure from the steam and heat locked inside. One of the men split the top with his flint knife and the delicious aroma made the Ice people cheer and laugh, while the Muskeg men felt their senses sharpened by the scent of food; until, they were even more determined to commit murder and mayhem.

The Ice People let their meal cool for a few minutes, while they waited with their wooden spoons ready to dig into the stomach.

Blue Duck had his right index finger in the air to remind his men to wait for his signal, before beginning the attack.

Just as the Ice People closed around the stomach to eat, Blue Duck and his men attacked with a fierce savagery. The Ice men were each killed with multiple wounds from the spears. An older woman managed to jump on the back of one of the attackers and mortally wound him through the neck with a knife, before a spear entered her rib cage from the side and pierce both her lungs. A second woman was hit in the mouth with the butt end of a spear and fell backwards in an unconscious state. The men fell on the meal and had turns breeding the woman like a pack of ravenous wolves. It was an hour or two later, before Blue Duck noticed a woman was missing. He tried to get his men to leave, but once a leader encourages his men to break the cultural laws, the men begin to lose respect for that man’s leadership and authority; besides, their bellies were distended after eating like animals and they were exhausted after having their way repeatedly with the woman, who now appeared to be lifeless. They wanted to sleep and leave in the morning, and there was nothing Blue Duck could do to get them moving.

Blue Duck realized it was hopeless and drifted off to sleep. Just before morning, a well disciplined group of hunters, led by Bear Killer, son of Tiger Paw, descended on Blue Duck and his men and within seconds, three more of the Muskeg men were dead, Blue Duck and another were wounded, but still alive.

They brought the wounded men back to Tiger Paw’s camp and tied them to a tree. Tiger Paw raged inside, but he didn’t show emotion to his people or to these criminals. He used his serrated flint knife, with an edge as sharp as a surgeon’s scalpel, but far more durable, to cut the fur clothing from the two men, exposing their nakedness.

Blue Duck was screaming threats and insults, but his efforts were wasted, for the Ice People noticed the silhouette tattoo of a right hand on Blue Duck’s chest. It was a well known symbol of a chief’s hand, designating his choice for leadership; it was a black tattoo done with ashes.

This was big medicine for the Ice People; it could mean war, the Muskeg tribe was a large tribe with oversized people, who were often starving.

The Whale People of Europe

The Whale People followed the shore line and passed camps on shore with people who waved to them, but yellow Hair pushed on wanting to find a new hunting and fishing ground. The shoreline no longer allowed them to head north, they had been paddling west for several days when the storm clouds finally unleashed a fury on the Whale People. The waves were higher than the boats were long. Yellow Hair yelled to the other leaders to paddle to the peak of the waves at an angle and to paddle down at a high rate of speed to keep the waves from cresting and breaking over the top of them and burying them under a wall of water.

It was hopeless, the canoe captains couldn’t hear him over the noise of the storm; hopefully, his captains would follow his lead and survive the storm. He saw one of the canoes trapped in the trough, when a huge wave many times as high as a man buried them and drove them to the bottom of the salt water.

The storm raged for three days and at the end, the Whale People were so exhausted they collapsed in the hulls of their canoes and let the storm have its way with them. Yellow Hair awoke on the fourth morning and looked out to see only one other canoe floating near-by. The temperature was mild, nearly seventy degrees, Yellow Hair had never felt such a mild temperature, on the shore, there was a forest of huge trees he had never seen before. He thought he might be in the Spirit World. He called out to the other boat, three men, including his youngest son, sat up and waved. There was also a woman in that canoe with a suckling child. There were three men and an adolescent girl in his canoe. Yellow Hair made a motion with is hand towards shore and the two canoes landed on a sandy shore; although, they were a hundred and fifty miles from the present coast of Virginia, they were the first Europeans to reach the East Coast of North America.

That night at low tide, they walked far out on a sand bar to look for the tell-tale yellow flickering of campfires in the distance: for the first time in their lives, they realized they were utterly alone in the world, like the beginning of time and being born by Olalla, they were alone in the world.

The Ice People of Asia

Tiger Paw knew this was a crucial and defining moment in the leadership of his tribe. His son and his raiding party had been correct in their method of revenge on this Chief’s son and his raiding party and now Blue Duck was screaming for mercy. Tiger Paw yelled for a wooden gag to be placed in each of the captive’s mouths and tied behind their heads with a leather thong. He skinned the tattoo from the chest of Blue Duck and tied it with a thong to the neck of the other captive.

Tiger Paw then ordered his son to take half the tribe and circle the North end of the glacier and head south through the Yukon and into British Columbia. They were loaded and starting their migration within the hour. It was a big gamble; Tiger Paw had no idea whether the two glaciers maintained a corridor of land between them, he just had a fairly good hunch that there was a corridor of good hunting between the glaciers.

They had to leave this country or be annihilated by the Muskeg People. There were only enough canoes for half the tribe. He might be sending his son and half his tribe to their doom, but he knew the coast line couldn’t support people traveling by land; therefore, there was no choice, he had to send half his people inland. He told his son to follow the Western Glacier and he would meet him at the southern end of the ice, in the area that was to become Seattle; Tiger Paw would take half the tribe by boat and they will join up at the end of the ice.

He turned to Blue Duck and emasculated him, so that his father would know he would never reproduce in the spirit world and certainly not on this earth ever again. He waited until Blue Duck had accepted his fate and was no longer struggling, he then cut his throat and ordered the rest of his people into their canoes. He let Blue Duck’s warrior go with his hands tied behind him and the tattoo still tied to his neck.

Tiger Paw and the rest of the Ice people left Beringia forever.

Tiger Paw and his did meet each other in the Puget Sound area, but Tiger Paw had no idea it would take twelve years for his son to make the trip. Tiger Paw’s son had gray hair and Tiger Paw was now little more than an ancient old man, but for the survivors it was a great reunion and a chance for marriages and procreation.

Eventually, nearly five hundred years later, the descendants of Tiger Paw and Yellow Hair would meet in the area that was to become Omaha, Nebraska. The names of Tiger Paw and Yellow Hair had been forgotten, but traces of their DNA are still present in many Americans. The same qualities that drove these chiefs to succeed against all odds and care for their people were carried down through the eons and it is still in the blood of tens of millions of their descendants, now walking the earth in North America.

Epilogue: This story is of course fiction; however it is based in fact, since we now know that there were land bridges that connected Europe and Asia to North America. Cultural and technologic traits as well as DNA evidence record the presence of DNA tracings of ancient Europeans among our indigenous native people of North America. This is significant, because the DNA evidence illustrates, that in spite of superficial cultural differences and phenotypical variation, people are much more closely related than anyone’s wildest imagination ever dreamed.

It is the author’s dream, that as new DNA science is discovered, people will have a softening of preconceived ideas of racial differences and a greater harmony can be achieved through knowledge and science, rather than relying on ignorance and cultural division.

Although the events in this article are based on supposition by the author, a man who has experience living on a sharp divide between survival and death, at least more than most people, it is easy to combine human nature with a harsh environment and find these behaviors close to the surface, even with our superior cultural attitudes.

The envious wailings of the OWS people who bemoan their pitiful existence and hide their selfish pleadings behind the cloak of Marxism and a dubious desire for an end to corruption; yet, their cries for equality seem to be hypocritical at best as they perpetuate and promote a code of lawlessness. Yes, under the guise of fairness and equality, greed begets more greed and the veneers of advanced culture become laughable with their pretensions of enlightenment.

This article, the preface of a novel, is not meant to belittle prehistoric man, but rather to illustrate that our advancements are mainly technological and we who consider ourselves so highly evolved culturally, are not that far removed from seeking shelter in caves and tents made of hides.

These people are modern in the sense that a baby from their culture could be raised in a twenty-first century family and no one would know the difference, but switching adults would be nearly impossible because of the cultural differences.

The extent of the land bridge between Europe and North America will be argued for decades, but the new DNA evidence suggests that if it was not complete, the exposed land masses permitted human migration with short trips by boat.

Christopher Muffin is a 99%’er; well not quite, actually, he is a new member of the 99%, ever since his dad turned off the money. His dad is a 1%, who has way too much money and doesn’t want to share it anymore with Christopher. He just doesn’t understand, Christopher’s mission has been to find himself. Spending thirteen years at university is nothing, many holy men spend a lifetime searching for their inner being.

It’s a good thing the OWS movement started; otherwise, the university was wanting its tuition or blood money and his dad wasn’t going to foot the bill any longer. Man, that’s just bad karma for his dad.

He bought a tent, a sleeping bag and a bag of dope and in a few days he became a bona fide camper or occupier. Now he spends his days getting high and looking for chicks that need a hero. How good can it get?

The trouble started a few nights ago when a guy brought out this expensive bong and wanted to smoke some of Christopher’s dope. He had this really cute chick with him that was so hot, so it seemed like a good idea. She had a bottle of wine and after they got started smoking and drinking, Christopher decided it was time to impress the young chick with his knowledge of Marxism and his repertoire of revolutionary quotes.

He stood up to do his recitation, and in the middle of a Karl Marx quote, just as the 18 year old chick was becoming enthralled with his intellect, someone passed him a bottle of wine. He took a break to have a drink, tilted the bottle up and put his head back to drink, but lost his balance and fell over backwards onto a guy using the glass bong. The bong broke and the owner was all upset over his $250 bong.

Christopher had never worked, he had been wealthy all his life, material things don’t really have value to him. He shook his head, tried to focus his eyes and said to the owner of the bong while laughing, “It’s just a bong, man”.

That was the wrong thing to say. The guy flew into a rage and jumped on Christopher.

Fortunately, neither man was very dangerous in a rhubarb and the fight was more like professional wrestling than mixed martial arts. A policeman pulled the man off of Christopher and asked what was going on. The guy was complaining in the slurred speech of a drunk that Christopher was drunk and had broken his bong. The cop looked at the man in disbelief, while Christopher used a moment of lucidity to make his escape.

He drifted through the crowd and started to gather up his tent and sleeping bag when he noticed a big drunk urinating on his tent. After watching the desecration of his camping equipment, he decided to leave the camping equipment for a more desperate camper in need. Who knows it might serve as a double tax deduction that way. He bought it and then he donated it, that’s a double deduction. His father the Capitalist pig would be proud of his natural business skills.

He decided to drive to California and join one of their Occupy movements, just until the heat is off and the cops weren’t looking for him for breaking the dude’s bong. He used his credit cards, until he made it to Arizona and he started to have engine problems. He pulled into a garage and asked the mechanic to look at his Beamer.

It turned out to need a new or rebuilt engine. He told the mechanic, “no problem, just put it on the credit card”. The mechanic tried to run the numbers, but the card had been decommissioned. That was Chris’s dad the evil Capitalist, playing games with Chris’s life again. It was going to cost $3,000 for a used engine and he had thirty dollars cash. The situation wasn’t looking good. He told the mechanic, he needed a beer and to hold off on doing anything, until he figured out what to do.

After a couple of beers, he asked the bartender if he knew of any jobs. The barkeep said there was a rancher who needed men to feed and care for cattle at his feedlot. He volunteered to call him, if he really wanted to work. Christopher was desperate, “give him a call.”

An hour later, the rancher came into the bar and asked Christopher if he was the one looking for honest work.

Chris looked at the older man dressed in Western clothes and said he needed a job real bad, because his car was broke down.

The old rancher said, “Well come on out to the ranch and sober up. You can start tomorrow. I’ve got all the work you can handle.”

Chris looked at the hardened old man and said, “What does this ranch work pay?”

The rancher looked at him, “I’ll pay you what you are worth.”

Chris stood up, “Hell no! there’s no way I’m going to work for those kind of wages. What do you think the revolution is all about?”

Karl Marx has indigestion; Cuba has just announced the imposition of private property rights and a citizen’s right to sell and buy real estate.

Fidel and Raul Castro have maintained the most classical example of Marxism in the world for over 50 years: consequently, the Cuban people live in abject poverty under totalitarian rule, while their leaders enjoy wealth, opulence, and outrageous personal economic portfolios so typical of iron fisted thugs ruling over a Socialist dystopia.

Raul Castro, brother of Fidel, is the strongman of Cuba, ever since his brother went into semi-retirement, due to failing health. Raul has just opened up the small island country to its first glimpse of private property and a market economy since the revolution. This latest move offers a degree of hope to the poverty stricken people of Cuba, who hope to reshape and modernize this country that has suffered such tremendous hardship and poverty under Socialism.

The law becomes effective on November 10, it will allow Cubans to set their own prices and to move at their own discretion. These are major deviations from the strict Socialism that the dilettantes of the OWS movement are pleading for, while they take time out from their expensive educations, preparing for degrees that should be considered hobbies rather than career enhancements. How ironic, Cubans are celebrating their first glimpse of a free market and a free society, the very thing the OWS crowd wants to throw away in their hunger for Wealth Redistribution. Cubans have another disadvantage over the OWS Mob: no one remembers who actually owns anything or the procedures for selling or buying real estate.

There will still be strong vestiges of central control. Financing must go through Cuba’s Central Bank, there will be fees charged, fees that are yet to be determined, and there will be an 8% tax to be split equally between the seller and buyer. A move that will reassure the Socialist hearts of our own leaders. Cubans will be limited to two homes; this rule does not apply to dictators, the Castro brothers already own multiple dwellings. Obama will surely be relieved to hear that the rules don’t apply to dictators.

The earlier freedoms of opening a small business and private agriculture failed to invigorate the Cuba’s comatose economy. Some economists attribute this to a lack of capital and poor central planning; however, people who have been born under the iron fist of Marxism with state control of every facet of their life are probably fearful that success will eventually be punished and appropriated by the state. There is also the natural psychological fear of a repressive state for the entrepreneur; why should he risk his personal capital, while living in fear of a totalitarian state that can regulate your business out of existence.

Obama is perplexed by American capitalists and their reluctance to start or expand their business holdings; yet, he has forgotten about liquidating the General Motors dealerships that were not contributors to his campaign.

The Cuban economy will be slow to start, for the same reason the American economy refuses to start, the people with the capital to invest, just don’t trust the overbearing leadership.

These High-end Condos Are Expected To Sell Within A Few Hours

The Flint Striker

Om was a flint striker; actually, he was considered by many to be the best flint striker in the world. It was a much smaller world a thousand years ago, but his skills made him one of the richest men in the known world.

Traders, warriors, and hunters came to trade for his precious articles made of flint. He had never traveled far from the quarry he was born in; since the quarry contained the wealth of one of the richest kingdoms in the known world. If he left, a powerful man or chief might move in and be impossible to dislodge. It was true enough, he was said to be the greatest artisan in the world, but the skills needed to work flint and obsidian were not that difficult to acquire, he and his sons were just the best at those skills. No, he was content to stay in the quarry that had belonged to his ancestors for generations.

He made flint knives and projectile points. It was an interesting time; the bow was a recent invention, yet the atlatl or spear thrower was still used by many hunters and warriors. The atlatl spear was a lighter version of the heavier lance. All three weapons required projectile points of different sizes and weights. The projectile points had to be light, sharp, and balanced. If the projectile point missed its’ target and hit a rock or a heavy bone, it broke and had to be replaced; since the same qualities that made the projectile points so lethal, also made them vulnerable. There was another intrinsic characteristic of man that placed tremendous pressure on his rock carving industry: man has always been forgetful and careless. He was always losing knives, scrapers and awls. He dropped projectile points and he lost many arrows in the brush. Consequently, men could chip and shape crude tools for replacements or depend on the abilities of Om and his artisans to provide the best instruments in the world. It was the craftsmanship of his work and those of his workers that supported his little community.

The traders came from far away places to trade for his flint works of art and they brought the most wondrous treasures. Most of the professional traders used the rivers for transportation. Om had a vast knowledge of the world and the wondrous places and goods the world had to offer by communicating with the traders using sign language and a few universal words and grunts.

Women and children were some of the most common trade goods, but Om was open to trade for anything of value. Om liked young beautiful women for his bed and older women to take care of domestic chores, tending the garden, and watching over the children. He was fairly certain he had sired over thirty children and at least twenty children were slaves brought by warriors wanting his flint pieces. The boys would be raised up to be either flint workers or warriors to guard his empire. He tested them when they were young to see if they could learn the flint working skills. They had to recognize the pieces within a rock, chip out the instrument with an economy of work and time to produce a symmetrical instrument that became the tools and weapons of civilization. His work was noted for the flutes down each side of the arrow and spear points. The flute made mounting on arrows on shafts much easier. Men also looked at the flutes as a mark of status. For if a man owned these instruments, he was considered wealthy. Actually, the flutes were important because they allowed the point to be balanced, symmetrical, and considerably lighter. Om thought the flute style was from his family, but his knowledge of history was limited. The flute or Clovis type had existed all over North America for 12,000 years before he was born.

These were the characteristics that made his work so well known throughout the world. If a boy couldn’t learn the skills of an artisan, he became a soldier and hunter. The hunters practiced their accuracy with both the bow and atlatl to secure fresh meat. Sadly he realized his warriors were not as disciplined or as fierce as other tribes that specialized in war and hunting.

He liked to trade his daughters off to strong men of other tribes as wives. It was sad to trade off his daughters, but it was vital to maintain a healthy community. These outside marriages made for excellent alliances and protection among neighboring tribes; however, it was beneficial to keep the blood fresh within his tribe if healthy children were to be born. The spirits of the mists had told his forefathers that girls should not procreate with relatives of close blood and the spirits sent imperfect children when their laws were broken. Sometimes one of the boys would fall in love with one of his girls and problems would arise. He raised the slave children and his own children the same and over the years it was often confusing to remember which ones were his natural children and which ones were slaves. He knew there were good reasons for people to mate away from their own blood and those reasons often became painfully obvious through children, but sometimes you must accept the choices of people in love, even though there might be dire consequences.

There were good reasons, handed down from the ancients, for trading girls off to other tribes. It made alliances with more powerful tribes, that was one of the most beneficial reasons to send daughters to marry within other tribes and it was important to have girls from other tribes to marry within his tribe. He had many wives and never lacked for comfort, but his young workers and soldiers needed a wife at a certain age or they became restless and irritable, lacking a woman also interfered with their work. Sometimes he felt he had to spend a disproportionate amount of time securing wives for his young men, but it was best to keep the artisans working and the soldiers on alert. Sometimes it seemed like the responsibilities of leadership were overwhelming.

Women were an important part of Om’s tribe, they tended the fruit trees, corn, and melons they grew by the river and they did the gathering of edible roots and nuts. They would grind the foods and cook them to make them edible. Without hardworking women, his society would fall apart. He appreciated women for the pleasure they provided in bed and for the work they did, of course without them, there would be no children and the earth would wither and die. Om felt of himself as a learned man for being able to comprehend these complex issues. Most men were content to have a full belly and a woman in their bed. Om had evolved well beyond these basic needs of the common man.

Not only did he have all the women and children a man needed, but he had the strange shells from far away rivers and big waters, he had exotic furs to wear in the cold months, he had exotic foods, he even had the giant tusks of the monster (the mastodon, had been extinct for thousands of years, but his tusks were worshipped and provided inspiration for many legends). The traders had many scary tales of fighting the monsters. Men came to trade anything and everything for his flint and obsidian knives, and his points for arrows and spears. Many of these men were warriors, some of them made him very nervous; especially, if they were violent and had almost nothing of value to trade. That was the main reason he had to keep his warriors happy and ready to fight at any time.

There were problems, he remembers the warriors of his grand father’s time being more disciplined and frightening to the traders: the earlier flint strikers were better artisans as well, perhaps his grandfather was even a better artisan than he is. He was concerned; he knew if the quality of the work was in decline and the ferocity of his warriors was perceived to be weak, his empire was in danger of being attacked or liable to collapse from within.

Many men wanted his stone pieces for hunting and work, but others wanted them for war. These men were always dangerous and unpredictable.

His family had been the best flint strikers in the world for countless generations. There was no need to assume that he wouldn’t pass on the skills and control of the tribe to one of his sons; however, cohesion of community had to be maintained. Cohesion within the community meant that his people had to be loyal to the tribe, his flint strikers must maintain their quality, and his warriors had to be disciplined. If his people showed weakness or cowardice, a warrior tribe might descend on them for plunder and murder.

The Raid

He would never know how the raiders came into camp just before daylight on that fateful morning. He awoke to the sounds of screams and moaning. He grabbed a spear and ran outside his lodge, only to be struck down with a blow to the side of the head by a warrior whose entire body was painted red and black. The war club was heavy and had a sharp piece of flint set in it, the stone had pierced the bone of Om’s skull.

He was stunned and watched in horror as his young flint strikers had their hands tied behind them and were tied together in a long line with the young women and girls. Those who put up a fight were cut down with clubs, knives and spears. He noticed the stone weapons carried by these raiders were not made by his group, but they were well made, perhaps as well made as his own weapons. Nearly all his people were captured, dead, or dying.

His storehouse was being raided and the finest knives and points in the world were being stolen. They were also placing his treasures in leather sacks and taking everything. He stood up and stumbled forward to stop the theft, when he felt a lance impale him from behind. He looked down at the well-made stone weapon protruding from his abdomen and fell to his knees. He touched the stone lightly with the knowing fingers of a master artist and determined the stone to be of a superior and foreign construction. He marveled at its’ artistry, just before he felt a powerful blow to the back of his head; Om’s world turned black, his life and way of life was over.

Skills And Technology

Although Om’s life was over, his skills and more importantly the skills of the artisan passed on from his forefathers was embedded within his DNA and had been passed on to many of his sons and daughters. The young slaves and his sons who were learning the skills of flint striking were considered to be very valuable to the raiders. Trading them to tribes over vast distances allowed the skills to be disseminated. The girls who were traded over the same distances also possessed the ability to pass on the traits of the artisans to their male children through the genetic traits within the DNA. Thus the skills of the artisan were also spread over vast distances through the DNA of the girls. It was only the potential that was available, for each generation saw a dilution of the skills needed, but by rolling the genetic dice often enough, eventually a young man would be born who would pick up the tools and start turning out the tools and weapons that were so vital for the survival of man in history’s continuous and methodical march through the millennia to the present time.

Success And Excess

Om wanted to maintain the skills and wealth of Stone Age technology within his tribe. His skills at leadership and working the stones were not as great as his forefathers. He could see the deterioration of skills, from his grandfather’s time.

His extended family and his tribe were among the richest in the world. He knew that it was harder to maintain the discipline necessary when his workers and soldiers became fat and lazy and spent their free time lusting after each other’s wives.

His society was disintegrating before his eye; yet he felt powerless to stop the decline. He had watched for years as his people had become rich beyond comprehension. Unfortunately, with wealth came a lack of pride in community and pride in their stone working skills.

Sadly, he was one of the few who recognized the decline of the community. He saw his workers meeting clandestinely with the traders who brought intoxicating brews and leaves. These workers were debauched and living solely for themselves. In his grandfather’s day they would have been executed or exiled from the tribe. However, so many of his workers were stealing from the tribe to indulge their own personal weaknesses, that he would have a revolt on his hands if he tried to maintain the old laws.

Om’s goal was to maintain his tribe and their wealth. He knew he was responsible for inspiring the sense of community, so necessary for maintaining a strong tribe. It was obvious to him, that he lacked the leadership of his forefathers and the will to enforce the old laws that would have made his tribe strong for a few more generations.

His people were happy, but without discipline and a sense of civic responsibility or loyalty to the tribe, there is only a disintegration of society. Ultimately, it was he, who had failed the tribe. He had failed to provide leadership.

Stone Age Technology

During the time of Om, flint instruments were the only industry in the world. There was a pottery industry, but the skills needed to make the ceramics hard enough to withstand repeated cooking and travel had not yet been invented in, so tribes were making clay pots on a continual basis. Agriculture was in the formative stages, his women were just grasping the idea of selective pollination, agricultural skills were in practice to the South, yet slow to be adapted in the North. Traders were always providing useful tips and stories of huge cultivated fields, but such concepts were almost beyond the wildest imagination of Om.

Thus the areas that yielded the best pickings and diggings of edible feed materials were highly sought-after, as were the best hunting grounds. These areas have been guarded with the self-interest of the particular group in mind. Survival and starvation were constant considerations and the loss of a food source often condemned these tribal groups to death.

Trespass and transgressions often meant death to either the offender or defender; since a group that lost their traditional grounds had no choice, but to be nomads with no viable or reliable food source. They were always looking for a weaker group to overwhelm. The well-made instruments of work and war were extremely important to groups who wanted to defend their food sources.

Weaponry

The knife, the war club studded with sharp edges, and spear with a flint or obsidian edged points were the most awesome weapons since the dawn of time; eventually, the atlatl or spear thrower would be invented by a stone age Galileo and the technology would spread all over the world. For the power, speed, and distance of the spear were increased dramatically. Approximately a thousand years ago, the concept of the bow and arrows swept through the world with devastating results. For with the bow, the hunter or warrior was not restricted to a maximum of three or four spears before he was out of ammunition: he could now carry twenty or thirty arrows for long distances with no undue effort. The archer also increased the effective range of his weapons and when a village came under a barrage of continuous arrows, there was almost no defense, except to cower in fear. To mount a counter attack meant slaughter and to run in disarray meant that the group would be defeated and the loss of the food source would be assured. Yes, the atlatl and the bow were the super weapons for thousands of years and maintained this prominence, until the introduction of black powder and the gun.

Once the Stone Age man saw the awesome power of the gun and its many advantages, he quickly abandoned his Stone Age weapons to embrace the gun.

Trading Labor For Wealth Today

Obviously, the story of Om is fictional; however, the same drama continues to be played throughout history. In Free Societies, the success of a society depends on selecting leaders with integrity and the ability to lead and make tough decisions with solutions that are based not on the tenets of an ideology and the centralization of power and control, but on the well-being of the society.

It has been the nature of Socialist societies throughout history, to have leaders with few leadership abilities. Socialist leaders have shown no real interest in the people they purport to lead; indeed, their interests are directed to maintaining wealth and opulence among the Elite class, while paying a token amount of attention to the people they represent. This is the same situation the fictional leader Om found himself, a thousand years ago. His people realized they were being used to promote the wealth of Om; consequently, they lost interest in contributing to their society. They stayed because it was comparatively safer than being on your own out in the world, but they no longer believed in the system that revolved around Om.

Obama has been dancing around this same image by leading a lifestyle of a limited work schedule with multiple vacations and golf outings, while too many Americans are facing the loss of their homes and the equity that has been built around a lifetime of work. It’s true, there are many who still believe in the hype that elected Obama, but many people wearing rags have worshiped royalty in furs. There is no delusion greater or stronger than self-delusion.

With those who are suffering from the Obama delusion and those who see through the facade and are bitter over the hoax that has been perpetrated against them, there is an inherent danger: the society has been weakened through ineffective, indifferent, and incompetent leadership.

Coveting Technology

Today, most people want the finest machines and technology, and are willing to pay a high price for cars, trucks, computers, building materials, and food. If they can’t compete with the rest of the world in the trade of the goods and commodities, their civilization will be mired in decline and stagnation.

Still today, undeveloped societies envy successful civilizations. A group that decides it can overwhelm a culture and take over the fortunes and technologies that generate so much wealth will often make the move to overwhelm the culture. Thus weaker cultures are destroyed or overwhelmed; unfortunately, wealth and the means to create wealth, is all too often destroyed as well.

For the wealth of a society is not transferred by handing over cash and material goods to thugs, unskilled so-called workers, and ersatz intellectuals. The skills of a society that is producing wealth are a meshing of skills and knowledge working in harmony to create wealth. The self-serving hedonist and the indolent may demand their fair share because they exist, but in reality, they are only negative factors that hinder the creation of wealth within a society, rather than contributing to the creation of wealth within a society.

Manifest Destiny

During the expansion phase of the United States, a phase that was unapologetically termed Manifest Destiny, the US absorbed or destroyed many cultures in its march to the Pacific. Americans believed in the mission to claim North America below the 48th Parallel as if it were a divine mandate. In the mean time cultures that had overwhelmed other cultures previously, became weaker and over extended.

France assumed power over Louisiana and the native people that occupied this huge territory; just as Mexico assumed it could rule a vast empire without direct control. England managed to maintain control over western Canada, but lost control of Oregon and Washington.

There were events that facilitated Manifest Destiny: Napoleon sold the Louisiana Purchase to finance his wars of conquest, for approximately five cents an acre, Mexico lost Texas to the Texans, and later on, Mexico would lose the entire Southwest to America in a war with the US. Russia even sold Alaska to America, an acquisition that was considered an act of stupidity at the time. Called Seward’s Folly, to ridicule the American who brokered the deal, it is one of America’s greatest strategic acquisitions and would be greater still if we allowed the oil or wealth to flow freely from Alaska.

The rights of the Stone Age people were virtually ignored in this western migration, but Americans often paid for this oversight with a loss of life, yet many more Americans died from disease and starvation than from violence. Even though there was a terrific loss of life the Americans kept coming in an endless stream to overwhelm the former Stone Age cultures occupying the Western states.

Technically, the native cultures were no longer Stone Age cultures. They quickly abandoned the stone projectile points they had used for ten thousand years, to work iron into the same triangular shapes in a fraction of the time, without looking for suitable rocks, and with more assurance of a uniform product. They also learned to appreciate the advantages of iron for knives, the smooth bore guns for hunting and war, wool blankets, and copper cooking utensils. Old skills were abandoned as these new products from the White Man’s world were found to make life easier, but with all new technologies, there is the hidden cost that is separate from the original price of trade. This is the loss of culture and the skills of that culture that are lost when new technologies are embraced and old skills are abandoned.

In America, during the 19th Century, there was a need for a blacksmith in every village, but now, a few welders will take care of iron that needs repair or the odd part that needs to be built. However, the welder will look at you with a blank stare if you ask him to heat treat, temper, or anneal a piece of iron. Those skills have all but been buried with those iron men of the past.

The Unskilled Educated Demand Wealth

We are currently being entertained by a group of non-skilled people protesting the abuses and corruption of Wall Street. While willfully ignoring the excesses and corruption of the current administration that has been instrumental in not only allowing the corruption, but an active and integral participant in the same corruption.

The participants appear to be those who have no legitimate contribution to make toward creating wealth; indeed, they seem to be among the non-producers or parasites within a society who desperately want their fair share of the wealth, while offering nothing of value for trade.

Complaints of expensive educations wasted gaining degrees in disciplines other than the hard sciences and those that prepare the student for a trade or a means to at least earn a living as a productive citizen; they are unhappy that society doesn’t recognize the value of their non-productive skills and knowledge of the mundane.

Problems arise in periods of forced austerity for these people who are non-producers of wealth or for those who have nothing of value to trade for wealth; for unless the government has excess funds for make work employment, these people have no sources of employment for their non-skills they acquired at great cost.

Like Om’s workers and warriors who succumbed to a life of sloth and leisure, they are only contributing to the disintegration of a culture. They lack either the skills or the work ethic to contribute to society and the formation of wealth; therefore, they feel they are entitled to the wealth of people who have the desire to create wealth, because they exist, they should be treated as important individuals and given their fair share of the wealth according to their need.

Ownership Of The Mob

Socialism or Communism is the most logical vehicle for their grievances against those who produce and create wealth, so the rest of the country should conform to the teachings of Marx so that their needs and infantile reasoning can be placated. Unfortunately, the cold hard standard of living within a Marxist society has even less room for these non-producers. They must rely on the benevolence of a wealthy society to support them in their meaningless and non-productive careers that have meaning and value only to them.

Neither Mayor Bloomberg or President Obama have the leadership skills to deal effectively with this blight on America, but instead they are willing to sit idly by the sidelines hoping against common sense that some political advantage will evolve from the pestilence of the mob and their own personal lack of leadership. As society disintegrates and the mob’s motives and actions become more circumspect, the ownership of the mob has now fallen upon Bloomberg and Obama as a result of their inaction and indirect support. As the violence and damages escalate, so does the liability for Bloomberg and Obama.

This is What Hoffa And Obama Are Suggesting

Obama Declares War on American Citizens

Civil discourse only applies to Obama’s enemies. In an unprecedented speech, Teamster President Jimmy Hoffa called for his union members to

“Take These Sons Of Bitches Out”

These “Sons of Bitches” he is referring to are the members of the TEA Party. He called for war and in most wars there is violence. To the union thugs, violence is merely part of their thuggery.

“We got to keep an eye on the battle that we face: The war on workers. And you see it everywhere, it is the Tea Party. And you know, there is only one way to beat and win that war. The one thing about working people is we like a good fight. And you know what? They’ve got a war, they got a war with us and there’s only going to be one winner. It’s going to be the workers of Michigan, and America. We’re going to win that war.”

President Obama gave his tacit approval to the remarks by refusing to condemn such violent rhetoric; therefore, we may assume the president condones violence against the Tea Party. Hoffa and Obama left no question as to their readiness to resort to violence and intimidation to win this election.

“President Obama, this is your army. We are ready to march. Let’s take these son of bitches out and give America back to an America where we belong.”

President Obama addressed the crowd after Hoffa had them to the point of insurrection and murder; he basically told the crowd that he was proud of Hoffa for declaring war on American citizens. Obviously, our president is willing to accept the actions of violence against the Tea Party as part of his campaign. Has America devolved into this lawless country, where the president can endorse violence against his opposition without being held responsible?

According to our President and his union thugs, they have declared war on White America.

Mr Obama, if you have someone in your administration with any common sense, may I suggest you turn over the reins of government, before you do any more damage to this country.

Richard III, the Bard

Now is the winter of our discontent
Made glorious summer by this sun of York;
And all the clouds that lour’d upon our house
In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.
Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths;
Our bruised arms hung up for monuments;
Our stern alarums changed to merry meetings,
Our dreadful marches to delightful measures.
Grim-visaged war hath smooth’d his wrinkled front;
And now, instead of mounting barded steeds
To fright the souls of fearful adversaries,
He capers nimbly in a lady’s chamber
To the lascivious pleasing of a lute.

My intellectual mentors were two of the most unlikely characters you can imagine. They were both immigrants to Peace River Country from Europe. They were both well read and primarily self-taught learned men, who knew the classics and were prepared to argue politics, religion, or literature with any man walking the earth.

Todd or Tadeusz Podbereski, a huge Pole who stood six foot six and weighed well over 300 pounds, was a devout Catholic who brooded over Homer’s Illiad and could recite several of Shakespeare’s plays and most of the bible from memory. He could never resist the opportunity to assume the role of Falstaff, Shakespeare’s irreverent, gluttonous, bawdy, profane, drunken, mooching, lying monk: he would abandon his thick Polish accent and employ the overly theatrical method of a Shakespearian actor, in country stores and humble cabins, he’d quote passages that pertained to the daily discourse of almost any situation. Even the most stoic and unromantic watched in silent awe as Todd applied his thespian skills to illustrate an obscure point of conversation.

His protagonist was a former steeple chase jockey from Ireland, Paul Larkin. He had become embittered with the Catholic Church and considered himself a Protestant. He read Melville’s Moby Dick every year at Christmas; he argued the novel characterized all man’s weaknesses and passions. He considered Twain and Hemingway great authors who summed up man’s feeble yet noble existence with two simple but great novels, Huckleberry Finn and For Whom The Bell Tolls. He recited the poetry of Robert Service and often told the stories of Jack London to family groups around a wood stove on cold winter evenings. In those days, a good story teller held an audience like today’s kids watching Star Wars.

Neither man was married and they were both horsemen. Todd drove a vegetable and supply wagon through the back country. If you didn’t have money, Todd would trade for different goods and he had a keen eye for a profit. Nearly everyone conducted business with him, for the entertainment was worth the extra price you paid. If you needed nails or a special tool, the moccasin telegraph usually made it through to Todd and the item would mysteriously be on the wagon, the next time he came through.

Paul was a horse trader and specialized in taking spirited horses that had been spoiled and turning them into good using horses. He made an excellent living and had the best eye for a horse in the whole Peace River Country.

Paul was also known for having the most picturesque and inspiring outhouse on the Peace River. His homestead was on hill, a couple hundred feet above the river. The outhouse was in the shade of a few Poplars and was a three sided building that faced the river, built of rough cut lumber over a trench made with a backhoe it was about twelve feet long and four feet wide. It was an unusual shape for an out house, but the view made it a topic of conversation and nearly everyone who came to visit made an effort to use the famous out house with the spectacular view. Paul kept the outhouse neat and tidy, the structure included a supply of well worn classics for reading on a small bookshelf along the West wall. A Lodge Pole pine rail served as the seat, it was the only seat I had ever seen constructed out of a single rail, at least in a permanent outhouse, the rail was six inches at one end and four and a half at the other end. Lodge pole naturally has a fine scale bark, but this rail had worn exceptionally smooth from countless butts over the years. There was a bucket of ash with a small scoop; the ash was sprinkled lightly over every latest deposit, and for some reason, a chemical reaction reduces the odiferous methane fumes that normally arise from these humble buildings of necessity.

These two men of literature would get together at least once a month at Paul’s place when Todd came by with his team and freighting wagon. I started attending these literary meetings when I was 13: my father had decided it was time for me to be exposed to men of letters. Paul and I both wore moccasins with rubber overshoes. This was standard footwear for horsemen who rode in our area. It was always easier to slip off the overshoes and walk through a house in moccasins than to wear boots and strip them off to walk around in stretched out socks. Paul always made a fuss over Todd’s size 13 gumboots, he called them Ukrainian Marxist Cowboy Boots. Of course Todd would emphasize that his name was that of an aristocratic Pole and not Ukrainian. Of course, the boundaries of the Ukraine had been a political football for centuries and this was merely an opening gambit of a battle of wits that found me in awe at these two intellectual giants.

My muddled concepts of punctuation developed from these conversations and one of the most memorable discussions was of Jesus and some of his final words on the cross: “Verily, I say unto thee, This day thou shalt be with me in Paradise.” This is the Protestant version, it denies the concept of Perdition and whisks the crucified thief straight to Glory with Jesus.

The Catholic Church opted for a different punctuation that indirectly alluded to Purgatory: “Verily, I say unto thee this day, Thou shalt be with me in Paradise.”

It is true, the difference is slight, but it is more than enough for a doctrinal difference; it’s true, wars have been fought over such doctrinal differences, wars that included the slaughter of innocents. If a reader is objective and takes into consideration the fact that the Ancient Hebrew Language, the Aramaic Language, and Early Greek Language (the most likely languages that Jesus may have spoken) all lacked punctuation; it might not have been so advantageous to wage war over such insignificant facts that have no basis; unfortunately, ignorance of a subject is hardly grounds not to have an opinion.

Actually, not until the 15th Century and the advent of printing, did Aldus Manutius the Elder (1450- 1515) and his grandson Aldus Manutius the Younger come up with the unique idea of the modern comma, the full stop or period, italics, and the semi colon. Aldus the Younger declared in 1566 that the function of punctuation was to define syntax. He could have been burned at the stake as a heretic; except, this new concept was extremely useful in written expression.

Thus the stage was set for Shakespeare, perhaps the most prolific of all writers, he was given the opportunity to express himself accurately and to create his magic, only a couple of decades later.

Todd often did a recitation from memory with appropriate gestures while striking poses in front of the wood stove, it was from the first act of Macbeth that has a wounded soldier recounting the details of the recent battle to Duncan who listens with empathy and concern for the man and his pain. Upon hearing the man’s account, Todd now playing Duncan with exaggerated enthusiasm calls out, “Go get him, surgeons!” as if he were a coach ordering football players to tackle the wounded soldier. Paul and I would nearly fall out of our chairs with laughter. He then would do the scene correctly with the correct syntax, “Go, get him surgeons!” Thus my introduction to punctuation was more colorful than usual.

With punctuation, Shakespeare was able to write his work with accurate syntax or expression, it was the first time in history such a unique concept was advanced and the Bard was the man who could work the system to full glory like no one before or after. Shakespeare is said to have invented close to 10,000 words and maintained a vocabulary of 40,000 words; yet, the average college graduate only has a vocabulary of 5,000 words. Fortunately, Shakespeare did not need to invent punctuation, thanks entirely to Aldus the Younger.

Now, most of the arguments were in good spirits; but Todd was a committed Communist and Paul hated Communists. I had no doubts as to the extent of Todd’s Leftist leanings because of seeing several copies of The Daily Worker beneath the seat of his wagon. In those days, just touching the papers seemed evil.

During one of our sessions, Todd excused himself to visit his immediate family at the outhouse; in hushed tones, Paul told me that Todd was a Marxist and that he had left a copy of The Communist Manifesto in the outhouse to pollute the minds of everyone who stopped to leave a deposit. He looked me in the eye and alluded to the fact that it had made excellent fuel for the woodstove.

I was a teenager, the prospect of a Communist in a Socialist Province like British Columbia wasn’t a great shock; although, to my knowledge I had never met a devout Communist or at least someone who professed to being a Communist. The line that defined a Communist from a Socialist was vague and dubious, but we all knew that a Socialist was okay, like having a retarded family member, but a Communist was like the worst kind of deviant. Now Todd didn’t admit to being a Communist, but he didn’t deny it either. This fact wore on Paul, he disapproved of Todd’s willingness to extract a sharp profit while being a dedicated Marxist, he felt it was taking advantage of entrepreneurial spirit and free enterprise. A fact Paul explained, that was inconsistent with Marxist values. Still, I think things could have been worked out in time; except, for the Communist Manifesto appearing in the outhouse. Some lapses of etiquette require an appropriate response.

All of this was confusing to a lad trying to learn literature and the fundamentals of religion. Yet there were certain issues that were obvious, even in The Peace River Country. Most Socialists were either extremely wealthy or they were such committed Marxists that nothing else in life mattered. These two groups operated in tandem as allies to accomplish the goals of their agendas. I thought it ironic how the idle rich seemed to resent the fact that a previous relative had made a fortune by using the free market to provide a service or goods and these latest children or grandchildren were more than willing to correct any perceived wrongs their relatives had committed accumulating their wealth; although, they drew the line at contributing their wealth to the betterment of society, their main goal seemed to be to prevent others from becoming wealthy. Yet in a way, this was strictly a selfish maneuver, since they considered themselves to be old money and heavily invested in the social structure of wealth; where as new money people lack the social graces and Marxist philosophy; therefore, they were hardly equipped to contend with the responsibilities of wealth.

In time, I could see the enmity building between Paul and Todd, over the issue of politics. Paul confided to me that Todd was using his outhouse in an unorthodox manner; apparently, he was standing on the Lodge Pole rail, in his Ukrainian Marxist Cowboy Boots, and leaving large deposits of mud on the rail, he explained that family type people were complaining about the unsightly appearance of mud on the rail. He asked me my opinion of the situation. I told him I thought it was a rude type of behavior and that perhaps he didn’t know that you were supposed to sit on the rail, not stand on it. Paul looked at me as if I were simple minded and in his thick Irish accent told me that he had explained the proper outhouse etiquette several times to Todd; but he considered his fat ass too good to sit where normal people sit, probably because of being a Communist. He told Paul, he’d rather stand where normal people sit. I’m not exactly sure if Todd said this exactly and I wasn’t going to ask Paul to verify these sentiments; understandably, tensions were heating up.

This seemed like a subject that was too deep and had too much turmoil for a teenager, so I let the pot boil rather than say more about the muddy rail dilemma to either one of my elders.

On the next occasion of our intellectual discussion, I arrived as Todd was sauntering over to the Peace River Outhouse; Paul was agitated and nervous. He held my jacket with both hands. “Skookum, there is going to be trouble.”

I looked at him as if to ask what the Hell was going on, when we heard a loud crack like a 30-06 rifle going off followed by a loud scream. At first I thought Paul had arranged a gun trap in the outhouse to shoot poor Todd when he stood on the rail.

Paul looked at me and said with a somber expression, “You had better go help Todd, laddie; I think he will be needing help.” He turned and walked slowly into the house: I ran over to see what had happened to Todd, fearing the worst.

At first I didn’t see him, but after walking closer I saw that the rail and Todd were in the eight foot deep trench and Todd was standing there with the muck about halfway up his thighs. He was using curse words I’d never heard of, in several different foreign languages; at first I thought the rail had broken; but Todd explained that the rail had been sawed halfway through.

I tried to help him out by hand but the suction of the ooze combined with Todd’s weight was too much; I told him to stay put and I would get a ladder. He replied sarcastically, “And where the Hell do you think I might be wandering off to?”

I brought the ladder over from the barn and stuck it down into the trench and Paul walked up to the trench, with an old shot gun, and said, “I’ve had enough of you Pollock Communists standing on my out house rail in your muddy Ukrainian Marxist Cowboy Boots, when you come up out of there, hitch up your team and drive away and don’t ever think of coming back to use my out house.” Being naive, I wondered if perhaps all Communists stood up to make a deposit.

Todd was more concerned with extricating himself from Paul’s outhouse than he was concerned with repeating the incident. With a mighty pull, Todd brought one leg out of the mire and unto a rung of the ladder and then brought the other leg up to the same level. Soon it was obvious that his Marxist Cowboy Boots were at the bottom, for Todd’s once white socks were without his muddy Marxist Cowboy Boots.

Todd climbed out of the out house hole with as much dignity as he could muster and with a dramatic flourish, he stepped on the toe of one soiled and outstretched sock and pulled it off and then repeated the process with the other sock. With disdain he used his foot to brush them into the trench. He stood to his full height and walked barefoot with pomp and circumstance to his wagon, he then drove his team away from Paul’s for the last time.

Unfortunately, this sad episode ended my formal study of classical literature.

It was a tragic event, one that I think is playing out once again on the American Political Stage. Barrack Obama has hidden his Marxist history quite well; however, his muddy Marxist Cowboy boots are leaving their mud and filth in a bizarre manner in places that have never been exposed to the Marxist Creed. Despite the fact that Obama is a bit of a light weight, he is standing on the rail of public scrutiny in his Marxist Cowboy boots with his arse exposed to the world. The rail is about to break, the only reason it hasn’t is his lack of substance and his lighter than air persona. The baggage is accumulating and the time is near, soon the crack will be heard and Obama will be standing knee deep in the filth.

Obama’s oily charm is similar in essence to that of Shakespeare’s Richard III: he may have had a hump for a back, a ‘withered stub’ for an arm, ‘a foul lump of deformity for a body’, a misshapen male member, and one testicle; but Shakespeare’s Machiavellian scoundrel has such an undeniable charm that an audience can’t help but come under his fascinating spell; even though they know him to be a murderer and an unscrupulous rogue; who will stop at nothing as he leaves a bloody trail of intrigue on the way to the throne.

Here in the opening lines of Richard III, an evil Richard or perhaps Obama draws us into a guilt by association complicity as he reveals his evil plans and evokes feelings of sympathy from the audience by laying out everything that is repulsive about his nature. Thus Richard like Obama addresses the audience directly and recites one of the most famous of Shakespeare’s soliloquies.

Richard:

But I, that am not shaped for sportive tricks…
I that am rudely stamped and want love’s majesty
To strut before a wanton ambling nymph,
I that am curtailed of this fair proportion…
Deformed, unfinished, sent before my time
Into this breathing world scarce made up-
And that so lamely and unfashionable

Of course, Obama used race and his pathetic childhood as his physical deformity; and thus employed these characteristics to gather sympathy from his audience. He then used his charm to tell the American people how he was going to lead them into a Socialist Perdition and that they could be complicit in the demise of the United States as we know it and they followed this modern day Richard III willingly through the doors of Hell.

Now that Americans have glimpsed into this Marxist Hell of Obama’s, that he is so anxious to create: are they willing to watch him fall by sawing the rail even more or are they content to watch him soil the rail of freedom with his muddy Marxist Cowboy Boots.

The year 2010 will give us the opportunity to leave the Marxist on the rail with his trousers around his knees. If we hold the course, Obama like Todd will fall into the trench of obscurity in 2012. The American people were swayed by the charm and sweet speeches of a Marxist: but in the end, a Marxist only wants your freedom and your money, despite his charming manner and winning ways.

Rick Perry’s cowboy boots are a matter of contention among the MSM. I suppose the concept of Western boots to estrogen charged men can be frightening and even erotic, but if you were raised in moccasins and only wore your boots to go to town or to church, boots aren’t really that big of an issue. This updated article from the past should help alleviate some nervousness among Liberals who are overly concerned about those boots.

Ahab Follows His Obsession To The Inevitable Conclusion

The Marxist Demon Within

In following with the Cloward Piven Plan for overwhelming America with entitlement spending and utilizing “The Weight of The Poor” to crush the American economy, a plan that is much more critical and potentially catastrophic at a time when America is in the depths of a disastrous recession, Obama seeks only to soothe the raging demon residing deep within his DNA. The raging demon within his DNA is Marxism and it seeks to destroy the Capitalism within the country he is sworn to protect and defend.

There is confusion with the terms Communism and Socialism and the modern use has little relationship to the original meanings defined by Marx and refined by Anthony Gramsci. It is probably best to rely on the early intellect of Marx and Gramsci for a useable definition of the terms, since modern definitions will vary widely.

Marx wrote that Socialism was an intermediate phase of the revolution of the proletariat that had to incorporate features of Capitalism, mainly using reward incentives to induce people to work; otherwise, the means of production and capital will be expropriated by the Proletariat.

Communism, as defined by Marx, emerges from a group of Socialist economies. The Communist economy will differ from the Socialist economy by an absence of motivation or rewards to encourage people to work. Social classes would dissolve, people would receive goods as required by their need and contribute according to their ability. The state withers away and a utopian society is left and everyone is happy; especially the elites who oversee the system.

Expropriating The Means Of Production

A characteristic of Capitalism that exasperates the Socialist is that the means of production or capital is controlled by the bourgeoisie class. It is the chief objective of a Socialist revolutionary to seize the means of production and Redistribute the wealth of a Capitalist economy. President Obama faces this problem of expropriation in a free society through Wealth Redistribution and the seizure of corporations on the verge of failure.

Anthony Gramsci is arguably the greatest intellect of Marxism. He was a prolific writer and had a tremendous effect of the theory of Marxism. His ideas of hegemony will help to define the direction of modern Socialists and Communists. Hegemony was a term used by Vladimir Ilyich Lenin to designate or indicate the political leadership of the Proletariat in a democratic revolution. Gramsci later used the term to describe why the inevitable revolution of the Proletariat, predicted by Marx had failed to materialize in the early 20th century.

Gramsci stressed that Capitalism maintained control through violence, political, and economic coercion; however, in ideological terms Capitalists maintained control through a hegemonic system, reenforcing the values of the bourgeoisie by stressing the ‘common sense’ values of a modern thinking man. A culture evolved that encouraged the Proletariat to identify their fortune and welfare with the fortune and welfare of the bourgeoisie; consequently, the Capitalist culture protected the prominence of the bourgeoisie and kept the Proletariat from revolution through the logic of ‘common sense’.

Gramsci felt that hegemonic dominance relied on coercion by consent; however, in a “crisis of authority” the protection of consent slips away revealing the Machiavellian fist of force.

Modern Marxists

Obama’s Machiavellian princely characters representing the fist of force are his trade unionists and ACORN activists, they are his political army.

Saul Alinsky, union organizer and mentor for Hillary Clinton, is the Communist who denied being a Communist for the same reason Obama denies being a Socialist; they don’t want the stigmatism attached with these Marxist ideologies and they will limit their potential for support if they expose the true nature of their political ideology. Alinsky wrote a practical guide to put the theories of Marx and Gramsci to practical use. Alinsky’s “Rules For Radicals” has been the handbook for revolutionaries and trade unionists for decades.

Cloward and Piven, both university professors gave Alinsky’s work an intellectual standing and concepts that could be embraced by more literate revolutionaries. Thus we have a brief synopsis of the evolution and history of Marxism and its progression to the White House.

Obama’s years as a Community Organizer employed the concepts of Alinsky and his political red shirts are still using these methods. Obama’s covert agenda creates even more frustration within his soul because he is prevented from declaring his affection for Marxism.

Guided with a foreign ideology for motivation (Marxism is more readily accepted as an alternative government in Europe), Obama is incapable of seeing another set of possibilities for approaching the debt ceiling problem.

The obsession that drives Obama’s personal demon is the destruction of ‘Capitalism’ this obsession takes precedence over the vitality of the country: like Ahab’s obsession with the white whale, Moby Dick took precedence over the mission of the Pequod and its crew. An obsession can overwhelm people until it is an addiction. Addictions are typically strong enough to destroy the host and the host is willing to destroy everyone and everything around him to satisfy his addiction and soothe the personal demon that lurks in his heart.

It is impossible for Obama to see ending or reforming any part of entitlement or deficit spending; as in the fictional example of Captain Ahab, his psychosis drives him to the point that nothing matters except the destruction of the whale or Capitalism.

America or the ship of state is of secondary importance to Obama it is but a means to accomplish a goal; his Marxist ideology is the defining force of his governance and is the focal point of his administration.

We All Struggle With Personal Demons

We who walk the earth struggle with personal demons throughout our lives, if the demons develop obsessions, we are then consumed by strange passions that control and ultimately destroy our lives and those around us.

Ahab and Obama Battle Personal Demons

In Melville’s Moby Dick, Captain Ahab is consumed with his obsession to kill the White Whale, Moby Dick. His inner demon is pure madness and vengeance. Obama, by not recognizing his personal failures and the failures of his policies, is displaying signs of a mental imbalance: consumed with Narcissism, driven by an obsession with Capitalism, and the inner demon of Marxism, he is not capable of seeing alternatives or making rational decisions. The mental imbalance within both Ahab and Obama becomes or was more apparent as their voyages progress. Obama’s Presidency and Ahab’s voyages were both scheduled to last four years.

Ahab in his madness was consumed completely, he destroyed himself, his ship the Pequod, and his men except for Ishmael, who lived to recount the tale.

Obama, is overwhelmed and consumed with his mission, and America’s Capitalism is his evil incarnate White Whale. His thoughts of the welfare of the country, our people, and our economy are not considered, just like Captain Ahab’s thoughts for his ship and men were not registering. Our Ship of State seems to have no one at the helm, while Obama ignores threats of Terrorism and announces measures that are obviously counter productive to the economic well being of a national economy.

Of course both men are/were familiar with the evil that is their obsession, the whale took Ahab’s leg off in a previous battle and had wrecked multiple ships and killed many men of the whaling fleets: Obama was raised in the midst of Marxists just after the proponents of an evil Marxism killed over a hundred million in the mid-twentieth century. The symptoms of madness were obvious with Ahab, he instilled fear with his madness. The madness of Obama is more of an effeminate madness that instills fear in no one, except for those who fear the damage he is creating.

An Obsession Becomes Madness

This is a passage from Moby Dick, First Mate Starbuck informs Captain Ahab of a leaky cask of Sperm oil they must repair or suffer massive lost profits, while Ahab broods over Global Warming and Health care for the masses, oh excuse me, the White Whale Moby Dick.

Starbuck knocks on Captain Ahab’s cain door.

Ahab: Who’s there! On Deck! Begone!

Starbuck: Captain Ahab mistakes; it is I. The oil in the hold is leaking, sir. We must up Burtons and break out. (Hoist the tackle and lift the large casks of valuable Sperm oil from the hold to repair the leaks)

Ahab: Up Burtons and break out? Now that we are nearing Japan; heave-to for a week and tinker with a parcel of old hoops?

Starbuck: Either do that sir or waste more oil in a day than we make good in a year. What we come twenty-thousand miles to get is worth saving, sir. (First Mate Starbuck is Ahab’s most loyal of all the crew and asks Ahab to save the ship’s treasure.)

Ahab: So it is, so it is, if we get it. (Ahab considers Moby Dick or the dismantling of Capitalism for Obama, to be the purpose of their mission, the treasure within the hold is inconsequential compared to his real goal.)

Starbuck: I was speaking of the oil in the hold sir.

Ahab: “And I was not speaking or thinking of that at all. Begone! Let it leak! I’m all aleak myself. Aye! Leak in leaks! Not only full of leaky casks, but those leaky casks are in a leaky ship; and that’s a far worse plight than the Pequod’s, man. Yet, I don’t stop to plug my leak; for who can find it in the deep loaded hull; or how hope to plug it, even if found, in this life’s howling gale? Starbuck! I’ll not have the Burtons hoisted.” (Ahab is referring to the madness and sickness of his own soul, he wrestles with the demon inside him: Obama doesn’t have the capability to know his sickness, nor the morals to try and defeat it)

Starbuck: “What will the owners say, sir?” (In this case the owners are the American taxpayers who support the government of the ship of state.)

Ahab: “Let the owners stand on Nantucket beach and outyell the typhoons. What cares Ahab? Owners, owners? Thou art always prating to me, Starbuck, about those miserly owners, as if those owners were my conscience. But look ye, the only real owner of anything is its commander; and hark ye, my conscience is in this ship’s keel. On deck!” (Ahab reveals the madness of his Narcissism and his personal demons. He no longer feels responsible to the owners or the taxpayers, they no longer matter. His obsession with the white whale or Socialism is his only consideration.)

Starbuck: “Captain Ahab,” said the reddening mate, moving further into the cabin, with a daring so strangely respectful and cautious that it almost seemed not only every way seeking to avoid the slightest outward manifestation of itself; “A better man than I might well pass over thee what he would quickly enough resent in a younger man; aye, and in a happier, Captain Ahab.” (Starbuck tries to reason with his Captain for whom he has so much respect.”

Ahab: “Devils! Dost thou then so much as dare to critically think of me? On Deck!” Ahab is so consumed in his madness that he cannot stand to have the slightest hint at questioning his judgement or authority, much like our own president.)

Starbuck: “Nay, sir, not yet; I do entreat. And I do dare, sir- to be for-bearing. Shall we not understand each other better than hithero, Captain Ahab?” (With the utmost respect, Starbuck begs Ahab to reconsider.)

Ahab sizes a loaded musket from the rack.

Ahab: There is One God that is Lord over the earth, and one Captain that is Lord over the Pequod. On Deck! (Our leader asserts his authority in terms that leave no room for debate.”

Starbuck is shocked.

Starbuck: Thou has outraged, not insulted me, sir; but for that I ask thee not to beware of Starbuck; thou wouldst laugh; but let Ahab beware of Ahab; beware of thyself old man. (Starbuck warns Ahab to beware not of Starbuck, but to beware of Ahab, for he is his own enemy. In modern terms, Obama and his obsession has been his own worst enemy.)

Although most people remember Gregory Peck playing Ahab in all his insane glory, but it is easy to imagine a soothsayer or a Starbuck telling Obama to let Obama beware of Obama, beware of thyself young man.

“And I alone am escaped alone to tell thee” —-Job

The mundane and tedious tasks of the office are of little interest to our president; nay, his goal is but to advance the precepts of Marxism at the cost of everything and everyone.

Machiavelli: The end justifies the means

Obama's Defeat In 2012 Promises To Be As Devastating As Napoleon's Defeat In Russia

Russian Prime Minister Vladamir Putin has said the US should take a lesson from the pages of Russian history and not exercise “excessive intervention in economic activity and blind faith in the state’s omnipotence”.

“In the 20th century, the Soviet Union made the state’s role absolute,” Putin said during a speech at the opening ceremony of the World Economic Forum in Davos, Switzerland. “In the long run, this made the Soviet economy totally uncompetitive. This lesson cost us dearly. I am sure nobody wants to see it repeated.”

It is becoming more obvious to members of the Far Leftist Progressive Socialists that the Obama Myth was indeed a myth, a myth of astronomical proportions. Obama’s miserable performance in everything except redistributing America’s wealth among foreign despots and domestic cronies has made his reelection a forlorn hope. The dyed in the wool Marxists are already blaming the Republicans for holding back on the economy and their creative people in the media will becoming up with still more excuses for the most miserable presidential failure in the history of the United States. Unfortunately for the Marxist Revolution, Obama’s failures are so epic in scope that the creative lies and hype surrounding the collapse of the Obama Myth seem little more than non sequiturs to all but the most deluded and the die hard ideologues.

Even Michelle’s vignette’s from her family life find almost no traction in the eye of the public; in fact they could easily be mistaken for comedic relief if her timing and delivery was better. In this scene from the White House living room, Michelle has kicked off her Jimmy Choos’ designer shoes and loosened the ever present cartridge belt worn up high over her latest designer dress and BO has his feet in slippers after a grueling eighteen holes in golf shoes. With a cold beer in his hand, he contemplates the plight of his and Eric Holder’s people. In this semi-fictitous melodrama:

President Obama tells his wife about his personal problems, “Michelle, it just isn’t right, what people are going through”. ‘

Michelle replies with wifely concern, “Why, what do you mean Barack?”

Barack unloads with his true feelings, “we have to fix it. I am tired, but I can’t rest until this is fixed!”

Michelle replies innocently, “fix what dear, are you referring to the revolution or the next election?”

Barack releases his pent up frustration, “there is so much to accomplish and I have already wasted nearly three years, but the work is so hard and these Republicans are so resistant to my radical ideas”.

Michelle, “don’t worry so much over the past, just concentrate on the election and getting reelected, so that you can continue the work you have started, now come here and concentrate on fixing your big mama”.

America used to believe these imaginary discussions between the Obamas, but after the failures and continuous onslaught of lies from the White House, no one is paying attention to Michelle’s pathetic attempts to warm the hearts of America.

Actually, even the indoctrination of America’s youth is starting to lose its effect, because of the pathetic attempts to co-opt the most dynamic economy in the world with Socialism and its history of failure.

Their’s was a plan that has been in motion for forty years. They have invested a tremendous amount of effort in transforming the public education system into a Leftist Indoctrination machine and had millions of close minded Leftist Ideologue graduates waiting to follow the party line; unfortunately, the most intelligent man to ever hold the presidential office turned out to be just as clueless as his resume. The first generation of Affirmative action was put on display and was a total dud. A manufactured man, the product of media hype by Useful Idiots who thought the Leftist Ideology was so far superior to Fee Market Capitalism and the ideas of personal liberty, that a blithering idiot could transform America into a Socialist Utopia; they were wrong.

They almost succeeded in destroying a vibrant economy, but the tenets of Socialism are not saving America, no they ran out of steam once the money dried up and the entrepreneurs who drive the engines of industry decided to hold onto their capital rather than investing in Obama’s Socialism and maybe lose everything to nationalism. Thus the lush green valleys of America’s dynamic economy, that were envied around the world, became a star and barren desert in less than three years.

The realists among the Marxists who are not blinded by idealism and designated as brainless Useful Idiots realize the situation is hopeless. Their election winner couldn’t run a shoe shine stand and it shows.

They must now reduce the collateral damage caused by the simpleton in the White House. One of the most appalling facts of the future for Marxists is a Conservative president who will be able to staff the Supreme Court with Conservative Judges who will not favor the International Socialist Revolution. Thus they feel that Justice Ginsburg should step down so that the Marxist failure in the White House can appoint a Socialist judge before he receives the bum’s rush out the back door of the White House. The clock is ticking and Justice Ginsburg at 78 has already survived cancer of the colon and pancreatic cancer.

Liberals Be Not Proud

Erwin Chemerinsky, founding dean of the Leftist UC Irvine Law School:

“She has in her power the ability to prevent a real shift in the balance of power on the court,”

This is the future for those devoted to the Glorious Revolution; once you have outlived your usefulness to the party, you should lay down and die. You are nearly dead, so step down and allow a younger Socialist to replace you.

Forget the fact that she never missed a day on the court while undergoing chemo and radiation therapy. All of this because a fart in a tornado has more of a chance of being elected than Obama. But Justice Ginsburg is supposed to give up her seat because Obama is clueless.

The feelings of a woman who fought against all odds to overcome cancer and stayed on the job despite the extreme sickness that accompanies the therapy are not to be considered, she should fall upon her sword for the glory of the revolution and become a footnote in history. Conservatives tend to disagree with this devaluation of life by the Socialist Revolution, nay, we say the woman deserves her role in life and if she can function for another decade or two, so much the better for her. She at least has the fighting spirit.

Napoleon's Greatest Defeat Was At Waterloo, Democrats Expect Obama To Meet His Waterloo In 2012