SNOTTY NOSED ANTIFA/BLM RIOTERS, OLD HIPPIES & ANARCHISTS

A well financed and vocal minority continue to riot and babble the oft failed siren song of socialism.  The new deal, square deal or fair deal of economic equality is a joke, but appeals to millions of naïve or economically ignorant people. Liberal/progressive/socialist politicians and their media manipulators publicize and cheer the cause well beyond it's relevance or value.

Many warring demonstrators wear masks and use physical violence, shouting, and burning to convey their belief and intimidate opposing views. In the case of the college aged participants, many are still financed by parents or government loans and probably don't want to be recognized. These children are convinced  people and businesses should surrender or allow confiscation of their wealth and property for redistribution by a " benevolent " government. The old people in the crowd of demonstrators are old hippies frustrated by their lives and perhaps brain damaged by a lifetime of drug use.

The idea of socialism was invented by Karl Marx and Frederich Engels in the mid nineteenth century. It was based upon the community models of Plato's "Republic" and Sir Thomas More's "Utopia". The theory requires communal or government ownership and control of production and distribution of goods. Except for a few early Christian groups and hippie communes, socialism has never succeeded on any large scale. Even the political hammer of Communism applied in the early twentieth century couldn't satisfy the wants and needs of a large nation. When government gets in the business of controlling the economy we find Russians wanting for toilet paper and Venezuelans starving while North Koreans suffer in a slave state. Cubans drive 60 and 70 year old jalopies around the filthy harbor of Havana and slow down to avoid crowds of beggars because socialism and communism are failed concepts. A few socialist practices have been adopted in the US, but thankfully the free market and capitalism and a free market will reign supreme in the production and distribution of goods and services.

Somehow, latter day political demagogues in Europe and America repackage the fantasy of socialism and preach it to a willing audience of dreamer students, idealists and uneducated people every few decades. Bernie Sanders joined by AOC, her gang and other uber progressives are the latest American political hacks to preach the empty dream of socialism. Some college students and many American haters have used this cause to incite civil disobedience and continually whine over the 2016 election results.

If they gave a damn about education, Soros and other billionaires in conjunction with college administrators would fund programs to expose young students to a real educational opportunity. I think those who believe socialism is the salvation of mankind should stop "talking the talk" and "walk the walk" by spending a few months in North Korea, Cuba or Venezuela.

In 2013 I visited Cuba and found the people cordial, however living in Havana is an experience of crumbling buildings, poor infrastructure, long gas lines, dim streetlights, empty grocer and rationing shops and far too many street beggars. Additionally, a filthy harbor and lines of very old American cars points to another failed version of socialism. Castro and his soviet allies damned this once beautiful Caribbean nation and their good people to decades of poverty and hopelessness.

The Soro's sponsored anarchists along with BLM and ANTIFA mobs seek big changes by violence, fires, bombing, intimidation and looting,  but they will fail.

A VARMINTS STORY

The pack moved slowly and quietly along a hedgerow biting at flies and snapping up fat grasshoppers. It was a small family of four coyotes, two pups and two adults. Soon the yearlings would drift away to find mates and their own lives. These wandering creatures shared the fields and forests with other beasts of two and four legs. Some were deadly adversaries and others were meals. They gorged on the smaller critters and escaped the larger animals. The spring season was a good time. Soon there would be plentiful bird eggs, baby rabbits, snakes, an occasional chicken, and other small critters. Fresh rains would fill the creeks and gullies and provide hydration and bathing places. Like God's other creatures the coyotes spent most of their time in the cycle of surviving; eating and reproducing their own kind. 

The sound of a barking dog froze the pack. As their ears rotated to locate the sounds source they simultaneously broke into a run. They ran noiselessly and with ease. First, out of the open field into tall grass then through several creeks and into an area of heavy underbrush. As they wheeled around a corner one of the pups slid over a small steel trap and was instantly stopped. The other coyotes never looked back as the male pup wailed in a pain he had never experienced before.

The harder the little coyote pulled against the trap the more it penetrated fur and flesh. He snarled, bit, and licked at the trap but nothing changed his entrapment. He rolled over many times and this  only caused him to pant and froth from exhaustion. His pain was a terrible thing. His natural instinct led him to twist and writhe into a furry ball  to escape and hide from the hurt and fear that wracked his body.

Immobilized for hours, the coyote chewed and licked at the lower part of his leg crushed in the steel teeth. He sensed that escaping the trap was a matter of survival but biting at his mangled leg didn't  help.

As the morning blended to a late day of shadows, the small coyote fell into an uncomfortable sleep. Suddenly he was aroused by the sound of twigs and leaves crackling nearby. It was a man and the coyote furiously strained against the trap. He had never encountered this creature but it was big and in his animal mind large beasts posed danger. A large stick whacked down at the coyote but missed.

However, the missed stroke hit the trap hard enough to sever the remaining shards of bones and leg tendons. Free the little critter first drug itself a few yards then furiously hobbled on its three good legs before a second swing missed. Wildly scampering the coyote never looked back as it found sanctuary in deep thorny patch of underbrush. The unleashed and howling hound refused to enter the coyotes refuge. Burrowing deeply into a hovel the coyote remained still until the light of day disappeared.

Rest was good and the festering wound aided by dirt and maggots slowly scabbed over in a few days. Even with his disability he was able to capture enough to eat and he adapted to being three legged.  One day he encountered his family. They sniffed at his stump and only allowed him to trail the pack. His attempts to groom or be groomed within the group were met with snarls.

He was slow, but once again a free creature in the wild. The little coyote would not survive long as he was easy prey for a swift lynx or dog. This could never be a fuzzy Disney tale but a realistic account of one small animal escaping. The young coyote suffered mightily but managed to live as a free animal of the forest. His lifetime was only weeks or months, but as one of God's wondrous creations he somehow escaped a deadly trap.

Measured in years or decades, isn't our remaining life like the remaining time of the little varmint a wondrous gift from God ?

GOODNIGHT BOB.

When she died he spent weeks mourning. After fifty five years he was sad that his companion, lover, and biggest critic was gone. When the sounds of marriage quit the house he suffered a spiritual emptiness for months. The days became quiet and dark without the rhythm and spice of conversation and arguments with his lifetime mate.

Months of silence changed Bob.

In time his loneliness and sadness made him feel weaker, older, and less safe. He spent hours remembering the yesterdays. Their travels, her smell, his silliness blended with a thousand other flashbacks of a long married life. The good, bad, and indifferent memories became a safe place to escape his fear of growing old and dying.

Soon, Bob began talking to inanimate things and they developed a plan to escape growing old and dying.

Sleep time became his favorite time. Following a careful diet and regimen of medicines he knew good slumber produced good dreams. He reveled in the colorful dreams which mixed fantasy with remembrances. His sleep apnea device lent a soft white noise to the experience. But, Bob became increasingly fearful that a natural or violent death was approaching.

His plan was strange but the furniture, lamps, and refrigerator assured Bob it was a good scheme.

Each night Bob double checked the locked doors. Then, he arranged a large jar of holy water, a loaded 38, flashlight, and cell phone on the end table beside his sleep apnea machine. He believed these were his defenses against the evils in the dark. The holy water liberally dispensed would dissolve and destroy any devils or vampires. The small revolver full of hollow points would stop any thug creeping into his bed chamber. The flashlight would illuminate any monsters scratching at the window and his cell phone would quickly bring the cops or firemen.

The plan brought Bob months of security and enjoyable dream times until the insomnia began.

He always consulted his physician when a new pain or health concern arose. They willingly provided pills and tests for high blood pressure, ulcers, diabetes, and hyper tension. Bob felt secure that his doctors had all the remedies. The sleeping pills didn't help. The sleeplessness kept his eyes staring at the ceiling for hours and robbed him of dreams and rest.

As his sleep deprived nights became foggy days, he consulted the sofa, microwave, and ceiling fan. They offered no solutions. His insomnia persisted and deepened.

The lack of rest robbed Bob of his appetite. His mind slowly and steadily lost memories and the habit of performing daily routines. Forgetting to bathe, empty the trash or collect the mail turned his home into chaos. Nobody noticed because he had no family and infrequent friends. He mechanically followed his nightly ritual insuring locked doors, holy water, pistol, flashlight, and cell phone in place. However, night after night sleep and dreams became the exception to hours of staring at the gray ceiling.

The night Bob died the sound of six gunshots alerted the neighbors which brought the police.

In addition to a house full of trash and stink, the investigators were mystified by the bedroom scene. Six bullet holes closely clustered in the ceiling, a very wet bed, the flashlight shining up at the ceiling, and the cell phone in the deathly grip of Bob's right hand. However, the strangest sight was Bob's wide open eyes frozen in a gaze at the ceiling. There was no forced entry and an autopsy found no clear cause of death. Eventually, Bob's death was recorded as natural due to aging.

His final seconds did not witness a human intruder, devil, fire, vampire or beast at the window. All the doors were securely bolted. Bob's last desperate defenses failed to stop the force which seeped through that ceiling. Night after night Bob stared at that gray ceiling seeking sweet dreams. Finally, the great angel of death pierced the gray, descended, and lifted Bob to a goodnight.