By Scott Bennett
The rancher Hammond yelled frantically to his son, “Hurry! For God’s sake the flames are gettin’ at the cattle…light the counter-fire, and throw that dynamite into it, now…it’s our only chance!”
And then an upward waterfall of yellow sparks and smoke arose as a roaring leviathan, terrifying the mooing cows as it chased after them, ferocious and devouring, their neck bells peeling wildly as the cattle stampeded into a dusty oblivion.
The next day, the black flat land smoldered its groans, stripped raw of life, with the half-charred bodies of dead cows on their backs, their straightened legs frozen high in the air in comically bizarre postures as the rigor mortis of death translated the rancher’s eyes, silently calculating his losses. It was a day not felt since the Dust Bowl of his grandfather’s Great Depression; but if Job could endure it, so could he.
Then as the rancher and his son returned home, exhaustively stumbling up the front porch steps, a curled white flyer nailed to the door caught his eye. Squinting and wrinkling his nose as if to smell its meaning, he approached it. Then his face fell and his blood ran cold as he read the large letters stamped boldly on the front: COURT SUBPOENA FOR CONSPIRACY TO COMMIT TERRORIST ARSON AND DESTRUCTION OF FEDERAL NATURE PRESERVE.
Flabbergasted, Hammond shook his head and rubbed his eyes, unsure if he was delusional, sleepwalking, or dead. No it was real, his eyes were faithful, and this was the trap they had been waiting to spring for a long, long time. They of course were the little blue-winged monkeys (federal agents and bureaucrats) of the Federal Bureau of Land Management, and their prostitutes in Harney County Town Hall—bribed with the promise of federal jobs and dripping with lusty ambition as they obey their Washington DC masters and look the other way each time an unconstitutional federal land grab was made temporarily legal in a sovereign state.
He looked down with disgust, and then felt a cold sweat and a lightheaded nausea drop his stomach to the ground, pulling him over and causing him to vomit. Unsure if it was the sickly sweet stench of blackened cattle hides and boiled grass in their bellies and smoking manure puddles spoiling the air, or the political equivalent symbolized in this federal abuse of a citizen-rancher defending his home, his animals, and his life. Whatever the source of the poison, the life-saving antidote was clear: It was to embrace the impending moment of epiphany drawing near, and commit to acting upon the inspiration it would release. Then Hammond recognized the rallying cry and the simple truth: the family, the community, the State of Oregon could not endure another dose of the lies he and his neighbor ranchers had suffered and tried to fight off for the past 100 years. It was time to replace the wineskins.
In order to better understand the mentality of government types—the lobotomized, spoiled child afflicted with tantrums, grandiose delusions, and moral fear—he thought about the economics of the ranch, and how as his animals had only been sick in the past when over-eating, drinking their own feces, and generally becoming over-anxious to breed. Suddenly the “mad cow disease” seemed to have profound political implications, especially when considering the character of those living in Washington DC; and how their disintegrating idol, the American Federal Government, now seemed to be suffering its own mental breakdown and “affluenza” from its high priests (the bureaucrats and politicians) deluding themselves into believing the lie that the federal budget is never too rich and their spoiled abuses of citizens are above the law and will never be challenged, questioned, or punished. How little they knew the character of the American West. Indeed, the film 300 and the story about the sickly old, sexually diseased priests spewing deception and corruption in the form of spiritual insight, and hastening the fall of Sparta also came to mind--but that’s another story.
Hammond couldn’t help but chuckle with contempt as he reflected on the untold—but legally documented—history of his family on the land, and how the old ranchers in the 1870’s had been the first ones to dig a pond for their cattle to drink from, so that they could feed the railroad and link up the east and west lines; and how asinine—and unconstitutional—it had been for President Teddy Roosevelt to confiscate the land many years later and call it the Malheur National Wildlife Refuge.
The ranchers had made the place with their own hands and shovels for God’s sake, and “if those damned ducks didn’t land in the marsh and squat, the tyrannical Teddy Roosevelt bureaucrats could not have acted like environmental fanatics and steal the land; and then start trying to strangle and drive out the ranchers through the federal government stopping water use and ranching permits—as if they had the right to give them out in the first place!”, he thought.
And of course the other violation was that the federal government had snuck onto some of his fellow rancher’s lands, and began secretly mining minerals and Uranium and other things, and taking them out and selling them to Russians and others through Canadian third-parties (as seen by the story about Hillary Clinton’s treason exposed by the New York Times story).
And when these mines were approached and examined by ranchers who owned the land, somehow black SUV trucks rolled up with guns drawn and strange looking federal agents (or mercenaries) ordered the rancher away with an ominous promise of “grave consequences” should he return or make the mistake of thinking this part of the property belonged to him. If he didn’t own all of the property he paid for and was on the deed, then he owned none of the property and the deed was worthless—and the government that promised it—essentially, he thought.
The whole bloody drama was a criminal scam by Washington DC, and now the federal government types were using the fantasy of nature preservation and the nightmare of federal authority to try and lay siege to ranchers and farmers, so they could pressure and try to buy them out, like Old Man Potter trying to buy out George Baily in the film It’s a Wonderful Life.
No, not this time. This time he would stand, and challenge the enemies of his animals, his lands, his neighbors, and his freedom. This was the time to affirm the Constitutional right to stand, and reclaim the title of American West, all over again, he thought. Time would tell.
GHOST RIDERS IN THE SKY
A massive herd of roaring mechanical horses with their blazing gold headlight eyes—Broncos, Laredos, Rams, Fords and Chevrolets, followed by a few Japanese donkeys—shook the cracked desert ground as the convoy raced and roared through the Mars-like canyons toward the Oregon standoff.
An instant white flash exploded through the purple midnight sky, followed by a divinely titanic “CRAAAACK…….”, as a lightning blast split the heavens and thunder-rolled over the land, scattering the iceberg clouds like startled stallions preparing to stampede.
Then, strangely, from some unknown radio station with impossible antenna reception, the music of Johnny Cash seemed to echo out of the same darkness; prompting the cowboy to smile to himself as Johnny’s classic rogue lyrics came to life: “Yippy-kay- oooooooooh, yippy-kay yaaaaaayyy …. ghooooost riders iiiiiin the skkkkkyyyyyy”.
Tilting back his kaki Stetson, the cowboy gazed up into an old memory, recognizing the mythical boyhood hero of his family in the low gravely country voice pouring through the radio like black molasses, coloring the song’s canvas into the image of an old west double-doored saloon, with a frisky piano tinkling to a posse of ornery gunslingers, cowboys, Indians, mountainmen and fur-trappers; resurrected from their sleep to assemble in the traditional pioneer gathering of ‘rendezvous’ in order to bless, celebrate and toast the rough riders galloping towards the fight brewing in Oregon; and riding as the answer to a prayer of an old woman crying out for help.
He then began to sense a new spiritual tongue prophesying the deeper meaning of the approaching event as the truck’s cab bounced violently over the rocks beneath him, and the larger eternal significance of this passing moment clarified and smoothed into the still waters of revelation.
And the moment was certainly significant. In fact, the ancestors of this moment seemed to resemble the Boston Tea Party moment when the adrenaline of the ‘fight-or-flight’ instinct merged with the realization of our political duty to throw-off the unrighteous and illegal yoke of wicked and arrogant authoritarian government; and they resembled the moment of awakening to true religious and political independence in the ancient Scottish Declaration of Arbroath of 1320—written by the Scottish King Robert the Bruce, eight Scottish earls and 38 Scottish barons—declaring that against the English King and the Pope, the Scottish clans would unhesitatingly unite and fight all attempts to restrain, influence, or govern them (which also was used as the model for the American Declaration of Independence nearly 500 years later); and they resembled the moment Winston Churchill, with typical bulldog tenacity, declared to their Nazi enemies, the world, and history, that regardless of the cost of sacrifice or scope of challenge, the Britannic tribes “…will fight on the streets, will fight on hills, will defend our island, and shall never surrender…and if the British Empire, lost for a thousand years, men will still say, ‘this was their finest hour.’”
These moments of history not only represented some of the greatest demonstrations of courage and declarations of independence that mankind has ever been inspired with, but they were the ancestors of the feeling this American cowboy-militiaman-patriot was experiencing as he leaned his head out the window of his truck, closed his eyes to the wind blasting over his face, and prayed through the midnight sky about the nexus of destiny he and his militia posse were rapidly approaching.
Help was on the way, he thought. They were coming….and he smiled again as a distant cavalry bugle trumpeted somewhere in his mind as the exclamation point for the destiny running towards them.
Then he pondered and reflected and discerned how all of this started in the first place…
To be continued….
By Tyler Durden
While US intervention in its various forms has likely been ongoing for decades, March 2011 is often cited as the start of foreign involvement in the Syrian Civil War (refering to political, military and operational support to parties involved in the ongoing conflict in Syria, as well as active foreign involvement).
Since then the nation has collapsed into chaos with an endless array of superlatives possible to describe the economic and civilian carnage that has ensued.
However, while a picture can paint a thousand words, these four shocking images describe a canvas of US foreign policy "success" that few in the mainstream media would be willing to expose...
How would you feel if this was your town? Savannah, Ga.
Everything just looked odd, and unhealthy, and of course sounded worse.
Gray and gaunt, masking sadness under a snarky smile that chuckled a passive-aggressive contempt, Obama shuffled down the carpet like a Bee-Gee singer with an agonizing hemeroid, trying to unwrinkle his clammy brow in a veneer of fake gladness to see his former democrats teetering over the aisle, reaching to shake his hand like giddy metrosexual boys and girls at a Justin Timberlake concert. And even old Supreme Court Judge Ruth Bader Ginsberg blocking the President’s stroll up the carpet to force him into a deep hug with her, her black robe rising to reveal a glimpse of lascivious corruption.
The scowling, expressionless faces of mannequins dressed in military uniforms of the Joint Chiefs. When Obama looked at them, they kept smiling like military men with bottomless budgets and easy slush jobs and new wars to waste their time and spend the blood and souls of Americans on. And his husband Michelle, watching from the stands with its characteristic underbite, and dressed in the yellow uniform of the banana republic Oligarchy America has fattened into. The clapping millionaires assembled in standing ovation, the camera panning over the opulence of Oligarchy Hall of Congress, showing McCain, Bernie Sanders; Senator Mitch McConnell looking like an old cobbler without his false teeth; then a yellow-faced Al Franken looking like a freshly castrated Jack Handy; a couple of painfully stern nuns, somehow suggesting Obama is a religious man…or perhaps the demoniac from the tombs by the name of Legion?
What the Major Media is Afraid to Say!
When Starbucks announced that its stores are officially "Safe Places" for members of the LGBT (Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and Transgender) community did they set themselves up as a new, easy access soft target for radical Islam?
Corporations around the world need to realize that political stands can and probably will make them the target of terrorists.
2015: In reference to supporting their stand on Gay Marriage and the LGBT lifestyle, Starbucks CEO Howard Shultz on Gay Marriage: we want to embrace diversity. Of all kinds.”
Police departments around the country are using high-powered analytics software (SureView Analytics by Raytheon) to comb social media and calculate threat levels for individual suspects before they are arrested, according to the Washington Post, which first reported the news.
The program, called “Beware or RIOT,” uses addresses awaiting police response, finds the names of individuals who lives there, and checks their name against social media and other publicly available sources of information like property records and prior arrests to determine if they may pose a threat to responding officers. In one example cited by the software’s manufacturer, Intrado, an individual who is a military veteran with post-traumatic stress disorder and posted troubling comments on social media would raise a red flag.
Beware is part of a wide-ranging information gathering push that allows police to collect and analyze data from a number of sources in real time. One police department visited by WaPo in Fresno, California, combined social media information with a database of vehicle locations, audio from microphones listening for gunshots, and surveillance footage from over 200 video cameras around the city, with plans to add footage from police officers’ body cameras as well.
Predictably critics say the program violates privacy, but supporters emphasize that all the information is publicly available, including social media posts left visible by individuals’ security settings.
This level of social media surveillance is actually fairly tame compared to what other systems are capable of. Back in 2013 Raytheon, the global defense contractor with close ties to the U.S. government, developed software that can track an individual’s physical location using information from social media including data embedded in photographs. The program, called Rapid Information Overlay Technology, also draws on information in social media posts to determine location and activities, to create a precise daily itinerary for an individual.
According to Arthur C. Clarke, Ringworld author Larry Niven famously said that “The dinosaurs became extinct because they didn’t have a space program.” Technically, that’s true. If Tyrannosaurs with short-sleeved white dress shirts and Triceratops in moon boots were tracking, cataloging, and making strategies for the trillions of space rocks that may one day head our way, they could still be around.
NASA knows the value of tracking civilization-killers like the one that obliterated the dinos, andtoday have announced the formal creation of the Planetary Defense Coordination Office (PDCO). How cool does that sound?
While no Armageddon-like threats are or the horizon (as far as we know), incidents like the meteor that blew up over Chelyabinsk, Russia, which injured thousands, proved that our eyes need to be on the skies. (If that meteor hit the ground directly, Chelyabinsk would be gone.) The most pressing objects are the ones that drift close to Earth’s orbits, so-called “Near-Earth Objects” (NEOs). NASA has identified 13,500 NEOs so far — sizes range from harmless to civilization-ending — but there must be thousands upon thousands more. Do they pose a risk? We won’t know until we find them.
According to the press release, the PDCO “will be responsible for supervision of all NASA-funded projects to find and characterize asteroids and comets that pass near Earth’s orbit around the sun.” And if the office does find something worthy of Bruce Willis, it will be responsible for coordinating the appropriate national or international response.
Right now, that response is….well, it depends. We haven’t really tested asteroid redirect techniques, though NASA is set to test a tractor beam method in the next decade where theAsteroid Redirect Mission will use a spacecraft’s tiny gravitational tug to change the course of a space rock.
And if there is no way to deflect a dino-killer, the PDCO will at least provide data on impact timing, location, and effects to disaster agencies like FEMA.
Going forward, NASA will be focused on finding NEOs larger than a football field with ground-based telescopes. The most recent NASA budget devotes $50 million to planetary defense, so hopefully the agency can meet its goal of finding 90 percent of these rocks by 2020.
We can categorically say that our space program is better than the dinosaurs’. Let’s hope that when it comes time to test that assertion, we’ll be ready.
Lindley Johnson, Planetary Defense Officer for the program, said: "The formal establishment of the Planetary Defense Coordination Office makes it evident that the agency is committed to perform a leadership role in national and international efforts for detection of these natural impact hazards, and to be engaged in planning if there is a need for planetary defense."
One of NASA's main goals is finding objects that are 140 metres wide or larger while the long-term aim is to develop technologies that could deflect this matter if it is on a collision course with Earth.
If an intervention is not possible, the space agency will work with the U.S.' emergency response team -- Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA) -- to work out impact timing and locations.
According to the agency's statement, the same courtesies will given to "international counterparts."
In the UK, Brian May joined hands with scientists around the country and launched Asteroid Day on June 30, to amplify asteroid-detection efforts.
"One day it (Asteroid Day) may save the world."
But do you really think this program is just about Rocks????
Black holes have long been known for “destroying” matter, with scientists usually referring to them as “eating” gas and stars. This reputation may be about to change.
Astronomers noticed two gigantic waves of gas being “burped” by the massive black hole at the center of NGC 5195, a small galaxy 26 million light years from Earth. It’s one of the closest “supermassive” black holes to our planet to be showing such activity.
The team believes the outburst is a consequence of the interaction of NGC 5195 with a nearby, larger galaxy. The energy generated by the sudden inflow of gas towards the black hole caused the outburst, which, according to the team, amassed enough material to prompt the formation of new stars.
“Apparently, black holes can also burp after their meal,” the University of Texas’s Eric Schlegel, who led the study, told NASA. “Our observation is important because this behavior would likely happen very often in the early universe, altering the evolution of galaxies. It is common for big black holes to expel gas outward, but rare to have such a close, resolved view of these events.”
Using X-ray images from NASA’s Chandra Observatory and optical images from the Kitt Peak National Observatory, Schlegel and his team spotted the two arcs of gas, preceded by a thin layer of cooler hydrogen gas. This suggests that the hotter gas snatched the hydrogen gas from the heart of the galaxy.
This outburst is an example of “feedback” between a supermassive black hole and the host galaxy.
“We think that feedback keeps galaxies from becoming too large,” said Harvard-Smithsonian Center for Astrophysics (CFA)’s Marie Machacek, a co-author of the study. “But at the same time, it can be responsible for how some stars form. This shows that black holes can create, not just destroy.”
According to the team, who presented the study at the 227th meeting of the American Astronomical Society, the burp happened a few million years ago: The inner wave of gas took about three million years to reach its current position, and the outer twice as much.
He was alone, and felt it deeply, like a far echo sounding in an immensely vast cavern. He tilted his Stetson to the ground, looked at the burgundy courtroom carpet, and thought…and thought…and thought some more.
How could it have come to this? Did he miss something? What just happened? After all, his family had worn the military uniform for a hundred years and pridefully accented their walls and desks with the old pictures, medals, framed citations, and faded ribbons, along with the music of heroic, quiet, and laughing stories of men acting like boys during war, which always changed rooms and lives.
With War between Iran and Saudi Arabia looming, Canada chooses sides. Protect the king. The first rule of chess is the basic principle of Western policy on Saudi Arabia. It was Canada’s policy under the Conservatives, and it is Canada’s de facto policy under the Liberals. The new government has no plans to stop a $15-billion weapons contract.
Let’s be clear: These are weapons. The Canadian light armored vehicles, or LAVs, that will be sold to Saudi Arabia are not jeeps. They are big, 8x8 armoured vehicles with gun turrets on top. And they are being sold to an internal security force, not Saudi Arabia’s regular army. That force, the Saudi Arabian National Guard, is tasked with protecting the royal family. It deploys its armoured vehicles at protests. There can be no assurance they will never be used against Saudi civilians.
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