January 18, 2020

by Doug “Uncola” Lynn:

It’s been a long year. First, we narrowly avoided World War 3. At least for now.  And, currently, we are approaching peak bullshit in the arena of American politics; as if that were even possible.

War and political bullshit: Both means of blowing smoke up our collective asses prior to author George Orwell’s dystopic vision of jackboots stomping on human faces forever. Because, either the long slow collapse will usher in an era of decentralization – which would follow a period of immediate anarchy; or, a nightmare age of global centralization that may be about to commence.

Obviously, the billionaire class and their employees in human resources departments around the globe prefer centralized control – as do the Orwellian media and government apparatchiks.  And in the Hegelian view of those peering behind the eye at the top of the pyramid, chaos brings order. But no matter what happens in the end, many people will definitely die before the new cashless age begins.

Until then fiat still has its benefits and perhaps it will for some time; even as this blogger more and more favors barter.  I’m somewhat comfortable from an asset standpoint, but having gone Galt in 2011 with no pension and being too young to draw social security, I am often cash poor personally – especially getting pups through college debt free, taking risks, occasional business setbacks, and unexpected brush fires.

Obviously, I miscalculated the timing of the nation’s fatal convulsions. Looking back, perhaps the Beginning of the Beginning of The End occurred on September 11, 2001; with the Middle of the Beginning of The End occurring around the time of the subprime crash and TARP followed by the passage of Obamacare. But my error was in believing the End of the Beginning of The End was occurring around the time of Benghazi, Edward Snowden, and Obama’s red line in Syria.

I really thought 2016 would be the last U.S. election and, obviously, I was wrong on that too.

Realizing what I now know, I might have made different business and investing decisions. But, as they say, hindsight is 2020. Literally.

But… no regrets; even amidst the long slow collapse, the Orwellian lies, and rumors of war. Because years early is better than seconds too late.  I’ve actually been grateful for the delay.

At the same time, though, I’m always looking at ways to generate monthly income, especially income that might be able to sustain itself for as long as possible amidst the ongoing decline and the forthcoming apocalypse. With that goal in mind, I added the required endorsements to my CDL last year and became a substitute school bus driver. I knew some retired guys at the bus barn and they said they needed help.  No problem, except this year, so far, it’s turned into a 20+ hour a week regular gig – in addition to all of my regular daily commitments.

So this year has seen me up early and to bed late and I would not have it any different; except for having some more time to write. It is what is.

And, every day, I steer between the lanes of open-mindedness and skepticism, optimism and realism, hope and nihilism.

As many readers know, in the fall of 2016 I started my blog as a tiny ongoing middle-finger flip to the (what I perceived then to be the certain) eventuality of President Hillary and her criminal cabal. I did so after being inspired by the courage of the writers throughout the free blogosphere. In retrospect, I was glad that Trump won and I’m proud of everything I’ve written before and since; even while understanding my meager contributions have made zero difference in the ongoing tide of events.

When I sat down to type this piece, I had all my links, notes, and outline to write a scathing article on seven (7) things that have become completely obvious since Trump’s election in 2016.

But that is not where my heart is currently.  Instead, I just have some random thoughts and observations that I’ll place here for the remnant:

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The Orwellian Surveillance Ship of State sails unencumbered with Trump at the helm. The swamp has not been drained. The only indictments have been process crimes against Team Trump while Brennan, Clapper, Comey, McCabe, Rice, Lynch, Bill & Hill, et al, continue their talk show circuits and book tours.

Will justice come this year via Attorney General Bill Barr and U.S. Attorney John Durham?  Maybe not.

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The criminal cabal has been in control for longer than most people realize. In an article written last year entitled “On Channel Surfing, Circus Acts, and Time Passages”, this blogger pointed out the following regarding an unseen inner circle of power:  What Abraham Lincoln foresaw, worried Woodrow Wilson, of which Dwight Eisenhower warned, that killed John F. Kennedy.

That, my friends, is an undeniable trend. And what has changed in the near six-decades since – except more power consolidation, false flags, and the construction of a global panopticon?

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The Q-anon phenomena could be a unique way to knit together a movement – or – an effective digital means to smoke out opposition; even at levels beyond the comprehension of those currently occupying powerful positions around the globe.

And it’s difficult to debate both those who trust Q and those who don’t – because some will believe and some won’t. In that respect, Q-anon is like Trump and I, personally, find that interesting in and of itself. Like Batman and Robin, Scully and Mulder, Holmes and Watson, Starsky and Hutch – they’re like a package deal; but, hopefully, real.

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In October of 2019, European businessman, Lev Parnas, who claimed to have “explosive information about corruption involving Hillary Clinton and Joe Biden”, was arrested at Dulles airport on “campaign finance violations.”

And, now, just three months later, Parnas is dropping impeachment bombshells on Trump.

What happened?

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Now Supreme Court Chief Justice John Roberts is about to preside over President Trump’s impeachment trial in the U.S. Senate.

In past articles, such as “Ten Ways the Democratic Northern Hemisphere Nations Became the Orwellian West”, I’ve questioned what made Justice Roberts change his vote on Obamacare and speculated it had to do with Senator Chuck Schumer’s statement during an MSNBC interview on January 3^rd, 2017:

Let me tell you, you take on the intelligence community, they have six ways from Sunday to get back at you.

Then, last week, while filling in for Rush Limbaugh, radio host Mark Belling said someone “as close to the Supreme Court without actually being on the Supreme Court” told him on the night before the Chief Justice unilaterally changed the Obamacare mandate to a tax, that “they got to” Roberts.

It seems obvious now, doesn’t it?  Especially in the Trump era. What once was akin to viewing the effects of gravity’s tug on visible planets from unseen stars in outer space, are now daily face slaps by stringed-puppets like Adam Schiff, Nancy Pelosi, and Rachel Maddow.

Still, though, I do sometimes wonder who “they” really are.

Perhaps they have so much power they could get to the world’s most famous imprisoned pedophile? You know, the one who didn’t kill himself.

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Somehow Virginia Governor Ralph Northam survived his blackface scandal. Which, in the politically correct age of MeToo, Cancel Culture, and  Kavanaugh-ification, it doesn’t seem plausible does it?

And now Governor Northam has made very clear the Political Left’s desire to disarm the American public. Undeniably so.  It is completely out in the open now.

Quid pro quo?

Even so, it will be very difficult for the elite globalists to disarm hundreds of millions of American gun owners. They could enlist the help of the U.N. and foreign nations. Or, they could decide upon nuclear nullification. Perhaps delivered via suitcase nukes in accordance with Iran’s “red flag of revenge against America”.

If so, that would add an understandable perspective to the now infamous Deagal U.S population forecast by 2025, would it not?

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The Government Accountability Office’s (GAO) recent finding that Trump broke the law by withholding funding to Ukraine is simply more political positioning by the legislative branch against Team Trump.  And the Orwellian Media’s trumpeting it as yet another smoking gun in the impeachment circus is merely more proof they are never to be trusted on anything they report.  Especially given that previous presidents have received similar remonstrances from the GAO and without similar media fanfare.

Just as I refuse to imbibe modicums of poison by mouth, or breathe in tiny amounts of hydrogen cyanide, so will I refuse to believe anything promoted in the mainstream press.  Anything whatsoever. Never again.

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Trump signs a trade deal with China the same day the Democrats in the U.S. House sign over their articles of impeachment to the Senate.

If optics are everything in politics, then that can’t bode well for the Dems. Trump appears to be working to make America great again while his opponents work to undermine him.

But, why can’t I ever shake this made-for-TV feeling?  Because everything always just seems so perfectly… contrived.

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Certainly, national and global events are, without a doubt, beyond the control of an American nobody like me.   Therefore, it’s important to discern between what I CAN control and what I CAN’T control.

In truth, now and in the days ahead, my influence does not, and will not, extend beyond my own immediate circle.   Therefore, perhaps localism is the way to survive in the new age –  either the era of decentralization OR the age of centralization. Except under authoritarian centralism, any local circles will need to remain hidden.

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Have you ever noticed how easy it is to NOT see things in plain sight?  I mean really see them.  For example, school buses are noticed –  but only seen as large yellow obstacles to stop behind and get around. To the average driver or pedestrian, they become invisible – perhaps because people expect to see them.

This, even amidst the beastly growling of a Cummins diesel and the occasional catlike hiss of airbrakes.

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In Ken Kesey’s “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest”, the character Chief Bromden saw a school bus and referenced it as part of “The Combine”, which, in my view, the narrative defined as a ball-busting mechanized systemization of matriarchal power.

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Some of the second-grade boys on my bus call me Killer Doug.  It could be because I wear black leather gloves when I drive, or it’s the name of a video game character.  I’m still not sure.  When I’ve asked them to clarify, I can’t understand what they’re saying; probably because it’s too damn loud.

The younger boys sit up front and are rowdy and hilarious, but some of the older boys seem lost. They look unhealthy and are either too skinny or fat.  A couple of them even seem like they could be on the autism spectrum. Either that or they are burgeoning school shooters. It’s hard to tell.

Regardless, I address all of the kids I can by their first name.

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Many communities will not plow roads for less than two inches of snow, which is fine when temperatures later rise above freezing. But, when temperatures drop and remain below freezing for days or even weeks, the unplowed snow becomes dirty white ice.

This is bad enough, except now add into the mix an impromptu ice storm at the perfectly wrong time – an hour before school starts; too late to cancel.  Some of the buses were already gone as I began my pre-inspection. By the time I latched my seat-belt, the pitch of the radio chatter became elevated.  In short, it was bad.  Real bad.  Freezing rain on previously unplowed, and now completely packed, snow was not a good combination.

While navigating the route, some of the older and younger boys heard the tense tones on the CB radio and came up to sit in the front seats to listen and watch. One of the drivers slid into a snow-plow on rural-route and called into base for instructions. Another driver reported that a city-bus collided with a car.  I showed the boys how I drove slow and steady, while testing the brakes well before stops and at the top of hills.  An 84-passenger, eleven-ton bus can find traction on hills until the wheels break and spin. I pointed out how the tachometer spiked as the wheels spun.  When I commented on how I wished my bus had roto-chains, they were curious, so I described how they worked as I drove.

When one boy asked if we were all going to die, I replied:  “Not today.  Unless we slide off that hill right there”.  They laughed. We were on the edge.

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In the afternoon, when picking up the youngsters from school, a couple of the third-grade boys were followed onto my bus by an attractive 40-something platinum blonde matron wearing gray slacks. They looked like men’s pants.  She had an air of smugness and calmly told the boys to never run from the school doors to the bus, but, rather, to always walk slowly.  I ignored her and she didn’t mind.  She was Nurse Ratched.

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In my home, our laundry is on the lower level in an unfinished area of our basement.  Through the years I’ve added shelving to accompany laminate countertops and stainless sink basins as well as some inventive ways for which to hang the clothes my wife wants to air dry.

I noticed she was using a metal folding chair to reach some of the higher hooks and areas and, rather than purchasing a stool for $30 or more, I decided to utilize some rag-tag two-by-fours in my shop to make a small platform.

I had a spare full 8-foot board and one about 6-foot; both were acceptably straight. After charging two power tool batteries, I selected the bit for one of the drills and decided to embed any extra deck screws using my impact driver.  Needing about an 8-inch platform, I chose to make it 11’W x 15”L x 8.5”H – with the 3.5” cuts stacked and with three 15” x 3.5” x 1.5” cuts across the top as the platform. Using the spare screws I used four 3” x 3.5” blocks to tie in all boards at the corners and braced the inside center (underneath) with an 8-inch cut that secured the stacked sideboards. The center brace also served as a perfect carrying handle when transporting the unit (upside down).

Everyone’s happy.  It was my labor of love.

Actually, I could use such a platform down at the bus garage for cleaning the side flat mirrors, back glass, and areas of the windshield where the wipers don’t reach. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if some of the other drivers would be interested. The unit would support the weight of the heavier-set drivers – at least more than the $30 Wal-mart units, and the platform would be safer and easier to use too.

Let’s see…. $4-5 in wood, plus maybe thirty minutes labor.  Perhaps I could sell my platform for $25 which would be a $20 profit. Then, maybe by producing in volume I could utilize economy of scale to save on raw materials.  Then I could find ways to increase the efficiency of the entire process in order to maximize profit.

I know. I know.  Just thinking out loud and using a poor example.

But isn’t that the way Capitalism works?  By benefiting my fellow man via my own labor of love and (hopefully) getting paid in the process.

Gorden Gekko was right: Greed is good.

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To Bernie Sanders and his supporters, however, greed is the driving force of corporate raiders; even as the plundering greed of collectivist envy saves the world. Yes, that is the logic of Bernie Claus believers. In fact, one of Sanders’ Iowa campaign staffers was recently caught on video by James O’Keefe’s Project Veritas admitting that free education is about indoctrinating people, soviet-style gulags were not bad, and cities will burn if Trump wins in 2020.

Perhaps that is what is to be expected from a generation of participation trophy winners.

Chief Bromden was right.  The Combine is ever-ready and the fields are ripe for harvest.  America’s federal education system has immunized once fresh and fertile young minds against common sense and self-reliance.  All that remains for them now is lawlessness, violence and anarchy.

Can you envision a President Sanders, or Warren, adorning the nation’s youth with arm-bands?

I can.

Just imagine. It’s easy if you try.

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As for me though, I grew up in the Seventies listening to Skynyrd, Zeppelin, Zappa, and Petty; amidst 22’s, 12 gauges, and custom mini-bike races with no helmets. Early skateboards, skinning frogs alive in the summer sun and shooting at bats in moonlight. Stealing Playboys and cigarettes. Flipping off high-dives at the pool and pummeling perverts in the park. Ditchweed, peppermint schnapps, sloe gin, and Old Milwaukee. Fist-fights by fire-light.

Not sure why it happened or what it meant. But I do know nothing will ever surprise me.

Nothing. Ever.

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