Actually, it may well be far too late in the day…

Actually it’s downright scary:
https://www.nationalreview.com/2020/06/not-so-retiring-retired-military-leaders/
H/T Powerline blog

Powerline also linked to a harrowing account of recent events in France, which should serve as a cautionary tale for almost every other Western country, including (as things have been developing) the US. https://www.gatestoneinstitute.org/15720/france-post-pandemic-disaster

Not for the faint of heart.

It has often been said that everything the left touches it turn into excrement, so now the leftists have touched some of the retired top brass who are turning the reputation of the US military into excrement. Sec. Defense Esper should be fired soon.

https://amgreatness.com/2020/06/07/night-of-the-generals

DNW: True. That happened to the largest, most famous hippie commune. It was called “The Farm.” I thought that was where I would eventually end up, but I got too involved with poetry and programming.

Stephen Gaskin was the charismatic leader of “The Farm.” He was an ex-Marine who had fought as a medic in the Korean War and then become an adjutant professor at San Francisco State. However, he got turned on to acid by his students, dropped out and discovered that he had a talent for preaching a hippie gospel based on all his reading and tripping. He accumulated a following in San Francisco, published transcripts of his talks, then led a caravan of schoolbuses across the country, looking for a place to settle and live back-to-the-land. Which they did, in Tennessee.

Sounds like a recipe for disaster, but it wasn’t. Stephen wasn’t perfect but he remained a mostly sensible fellow in spite of his status as leader.

The Farm had some hard times at the beginning, but managed to establish a viable farming community. Since they opposed abortion, they had a standing offer to any pregnant woman to have her baby on the Farm, then keep the child or leave it.

Anyone was allowed to join the Farm after a period of mutual vetting, but over the years the Farm accumulated several hundred prospective members who weren’t that productive. The Farm got strung out on loans they couldn’t pay and it collapsed as a commune. The Farm still exists in a smaller form, but each household maintains its own finances.

Stephen Gaskin died in 2014. The Telegraph ran, as they often do, a fine obituary:

https://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/obituaries/10946714/Stephen-Gaskin-obituary.html

PS. To any Grateful Dead fans, Gaskin was “St. Stephen” on the “Live/Dead” album.

This increasingly ridiculous polity is buffeted like some enervated family perpetually roiled and its members’ lives damaged by an insane, completely uninhibited member who they cannot seem to muster the resolution to deal with.

It may be understandable in a real family with all the emotional attachments that make them so susceptible to blackmail by a disturbed member. But we are not a family. And the danger of reconceptualizing our relationships in that manner, in the deceptive way that the left has been trying to do for generations now, leads to paralysis, and self defeat.

Time after time examples of voluntary societies based on a supposed caring and sharing “family” model have been tried. Inevitably they have been brought to ruin by slackers, free riders, and subversive self dealers … or simply petered out though a lack of participatory interest, and a form of voluntary suicide.

No polity predicated on free associations and economic liberty, can survive being undermined by the “family model” idiocy which demands we clasp fuck-ups to our bosoms like lit fuse hand grenades, and expire in the progressive’s grand vision of the ultimate altruism orgasm: an explosive disintegration, personal annihilation and escape from Being … with the wonderful and emotionally satisfying “heavenly” reassurance (if you are a progressive) that as recycled matter, one will become one with the universe. Or something.

I guess those who spoke of the nanny state in previous generations, were warning about much the same thing.

The financial well-being of those in the free market just didn’t interest them. Quite a situation.

And for Romney’s 47% – bureaucrats, crony capitalists, and members of the client class, why would it?

So what do these people want? And how do you reason with them? They are not starving. Money for food has not been the problem. Most Americans are so fat they waddle. [You should have been at Home Depot the other day. A line of 15. Thirteen, were fat assed, sandal wearing middle aged human wrecks. Stumpy, man-faced females, escorted by narrow shouldered gynecomastic males dressed in booney hats and cargo shorts. Yeah, accoutering youself in those get-ups will surely make you a warrior … just like Al Gore sheathing himself in a waxed cotton upland game coat, turned him from an American Mao, into Gary Cooper.]

So what, again, do they want? They are not prohibited by law from owning property, buying land, starting a business. Many Americans of all socioeconomic classes and races do so regularly.

What they want, apparently, is validation, and they are coming to you to demand it, since nature will not give it to them.

One of the most remarkable and astonishing things I have seen in my life, is the defiant pussyfication of the American people. Trump doesn’t commiserate, they complain. He does not feel our pain, he does not console us … they wail. ” He just does things! Where’s the consoling nuzzling and mutual ass-sniffing that has come to define our modern, enlightened, ‘ We the people?”

Are these people for real? Apparently they are, and when I laughed at Bill Clinton, thinking that no one would be so useless and shallow enough as to want him to feel their pain, I was missing a considerable segment of the population.

How have organisms like that survived to adulthood? I don’t
Know. Antibiotics, psychotropic drugs, and the welfare state I suppose.

Truly … The human species must be bifurcating into separate subspecies. That, or half of the population is clinically insane. In either event, apparently they are well enough aware that in order to live the life they insanely dream, all avenues of independent development must be cut off, and all human energies redirected exclusively to projects they find affirming.. What hellish kind of mind, could contemplate such a state of affairs with satisfaction?

But here it is: lunatics screaming, love me ( meaning serve me, submit to me, perpetually enable me, and make my dysfunctional life your prime and perpetual concern) or I’ll kill you. And the urban and federal bureaucrat class frantically crawls over itself on hands and knees, in order to frenetically shout their readiness to do so.

The result being that the unfortunate, and probably unlawful death of a reportedly out of control guy high on fentanyl, arrested following the deliberate commission of a potential felony, has politicians in the United States falling all over themselves in order to fellate the idol of the god of collectivist revolution.

No waiting for the facts, because the facts don’t matter to Cuckmerica. Shrug. So let it, or that portion of it, burn.

Hope you have a gun and a tractor and a water well somewhere, just in case Biden is elected. And that you are back on track with your workouts.

I don’t care how old you are. You cannot afford to be any less fit than you are maximally capable of being. Because if you don’t, and you are not, you just might be -quite literally- screwed.

And if nothing happens, well, then you will still be better off than you otherwise would have been.