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Drone Strikes in America: fiction becoming reality
Western Rifle Shooters Association ^ | March 6, 2013 | Matt Bracken

Posted on 03/06/2013 6:42:18 AM PST by Travis McGee

(Apropos of yesterday’s love note to the American people from Obergruppenführer Holder, Matt Bracken sends this excerpt from his 2009 novel "Foreign Enemies And Traitors," along with the graphic reminder above as to the fate awaiting such vermin.)

The deer stand was one of Zack Tutweiler’s best thinking places. The rain had masked the sound of his climbing up the tree’s nailed-on steps and into the plywood box an hour before dawn. The blind’s roof sheltered him from the rain. For as long as seventeen-year-old Zack had been allowed to go hunting by himself, the blind had been a place he could go without being hassled for choosing solitude. He brought home enough meat that no-body bitched about his disappearing with his compound bow into the forest. Now there was nobody left to bitch at him for anything. He was the last one still living at the end of Bear Trail Road, the last inhabitant of their refuge from the world.

The Tutweilers had hidden very well, but not well enough. The troubles of the world had sought them out in spite of their preparation, their camouflage and their faith. All the praying in the world had not prevented the flu from choking the life out of his twin sisters Becky and Annie last winter, the winter of the hurricane floods and the great earthquakes. Becky had died first and Annie a day later, both drowning in their own lung fluids. Zack and his family had prayed continuously, to no effect.

And praying hadn’t stopped the raging infection from killing his eleven-year-old brother Sammy last September. He’d gashed his knee with a hatchet while helping to trim the branches off their winter firewood. The most powerful antibiotics in their family medicine chest couldn’t stop that infection, and poor Sammy had died in horrible pain. Zack had helped teach Sam how to use the ax, but he had not taught him well enough. And now his little brother was buried in the cold ground forever.

After Sammy died, the praying had stopped, even Mom’s praying. This was some months after Mom had run out of her blue pills, the ones for her depression. These days when pills ran out, they ran out for good.

All along Mom had been waiting for the Rapture and praying for the Rapture, and in the end it was all for nothing. “We sure got the tribulation,” she’d often say, “But when, oh when, are we getting the blessed Rapture?” It wasn’t long after Sam died that she took the baby up to the bridge. “Rapturecide” is how Zack often thought of it.

Dad said she must have had an accident, probably baby Sarah had slipped and Mom had tried to save her, the river all swollen and running fast…but in his heart Zack had never believed this. He didn’t know if Dad believed it either, but he’d never challenged his father on the issue. It would have brought nothing but pain, and pain they already had to overflowing. They found Mom stuck in the rushes along the bank, but they never did find little Sarah. Dad said it had to have been an accident, but even he didn’t sound convinced.

But Zack knew what had happened, in his mind he knew. It was Rapturecide. He’d heard the term whispered at the swap market, at the crossroads town of Walnut, Mississippi, a half-hour bike ride away. Sometimes whole families had gone that way, in their exhausted desperation challenging God to put up or shut up, once and for all. If they were not among the chosen, selected to fly up to heaven and avoid the tribulations, then who was? They were true believers, and God had forsaken them. Zack didn’t believe in the Rapture business, but he knew that many others did. When their deepest belief was finally shattered and crushed, the life quickly went out of them.

Zack had a clear mental picture of their final moments, gleaned from a thousand imaginings. Mom standing on the low steel trestle of the railroad bridge over the Little Hatchie, clutching baby Sarah to her heart. The dark creek running high and swift on the floods just beneath her feet. Staring heavenward through the clouds and making the final leap for everlasting glory. Giving God one last chance to carry them up on angels’ wings, to relieve them of their unending earthly travails. This was on the tenth of October, after it had rained for forty straight days. Mom had hardly spoken a word in weeks, not since little Sammy died, and she hadn’t smiled in even longer. And then she carried baby Sarah down to the river, in the never-ending rain. One of the few remaining bridges around, and it was her launch pad to heaven, according to Zack’s reckoning.

So if God was watching, He’d flat missed His chance to perform a miracle. Or maybe not, maybe God had snatched up their eternal souls anyway, because of her great demonstration of faith in Him. Maybe God had simply allowed their mortal bodies to fall into the swift current. Zack often wondered about this point: was faith alone enough to cancel out the sin of suicide? Mom just couldn’t bear living anymore. It was too hard, much too hard, especially after losing Becky and Annie and Sammy—and after running out of her blue pills.

Their lives had been hard before the hurricane floods and the earthquakes, but Dad had prepared them well, moving the family from Tupelo up to the Holly Springs National Forest near the Tennessee line. Moved them from the city to the hidden dead-end Bear Trail Road, to the cinder block house he’d built with his own strong hands. Dad was a survivalist even before the crash, before the Greater Depression had set in.

He’d had foresight; he’d been one of the few mad Noahs who had seen the great flood tide of misery coming, back when there was hardly an unhappy cloud to be seen in the then perpetually blue Mississippi sky.

Against every friend’s recommendation and well-meant word of family advice, they’d left their comfortable home in Tupelo and moved to their own five acres on the uppermost edge of Mississippi, backed right against the National Forest. They had water from their own well, they had firewood and chickens and enough stored rice and beans to last for years. Even after the dollar crashed to nothing, they hadn’t starved. They could survive, even without electricity from the power grid this last year, since the quakes. They had hidden from the looters, robbers, and gang rapers after the quakes, they had survived all of the visible dangers, but Bear Trail Road was not hidden from the epidemics. Their refuge was not hidden from infections that no antibiotics could defeat. And Bear Trail Road was certainly not hidden from the affliction of despair, not when the flooding Little Hatchie River whispered its siren song to Mom’s beaten-down soul.

Then it was just the two of them, father and son, and even then they could survive. They had buried all of the rest of the family, had shed rivers of tears, but quitting was not in Dad’s vocabulary. Zack had grown up hearing that and he knew it was true. Dad would never quit—Dad was the rock. His father prayed, but he didn’t believe in the Rapture, and he would not hasten his way to joining his family on the Other Side. Father and son would continue to struggle, they would push on, and they would survive.

They would emerge intact on the other side of the long emergency, if it were in any way possible. Zack was nearly eighteen, almost “of age,” Dad had said. Zack Tutweiler would find a girl to marry, and the family would not die. Tutweilers had survived wild Indians, the Civil War, the Spanish flu and the Great Depression, and they had not yet been pushed out of Mississippi. Tutweilers had fought in every American war, but enough of their men had returned to Mississippi to carry on the name down through the generations. They were people who knew when to lay low and when to push back and when to fight with animal ferocity. Quitting was not in their vocabulary, which is why Dad clung to the threadbare belief that Mom had gone into the river to save baby Sarah.

And so it had been only the two of them these last months, until a week ago. Dad had gone out after midnight. He had people to meet over the state line in Tennessee, trading partners who couldn’t come to the swap markets in Walnut or Corinth. Sometimes Zack accompanied him on these walks, but more often not.

When Dad went out alone, Zack stayed up waiting, although he pretended to be asleep when Dad slipped out of the house. But that last time he’d heard a single echoing bang, and his father had not returned.

He didn’t find his father—what was left of him—until the middle of the next day. He was in the National Forest a mile northwest of their home, almost on the border. His father had been blown to pieces, his powerful body shattered. Even his shotgun had been blasted into a bent piece of junk. Zack hid in the woods near the human fragments of his father, shaking, crying, and wondering what to do next. He also found pieces of rocket casing and what was probably part of a rocket tail fin knifed into a tree near the body. His father had been killed by one of those little missiles that dropped down from the unseen drones. He knew of them from his dad, who had heard of them from the men he met in Tennessee. He’d never imagined his father would be killed by one, not in Mississippi.

So now Zack was the last of the Mississippi Tutweilers, who the Indians and the Yankees and the Spanish flu couldn’t kill off. The end of the line. He’d sometimes considered following Mom and Sarah into the Little Hatchie, but even in death his father’s voice was stronger: Tutweilers don’t quit. They might get knocked down, but they always get back up. But what was the point of remaining in Mississippi now? The men who had killed his father were in Tennessee, he thought. This was why Zack was up in the deer stand on Christmas morning, thinking, watching the first hint of false dawn appear above the treetops, where the dead power lines cut a swath through the forest leading up into Tennessee.

Now was the time the deer moved. Night fog hung low over the ground. Sometimes he’d see antlers before he’d even see a deer, but more often the bucks pushed the does out ahead: no dummies they. Well, a doe would serve him just fine, he could trade the fresh meat to the Mississippi Guard soldiers stationed at Walnut. His eyes strained to see down the game trails that ran in the brushy terrain beneath the hanging power lines, beneath his deer stand of green-painted plywood. It didn’t need to be camouflaged. Deer weren’t made to think about odd shapes, like the square green box nailed to the branches twenty feet above their trail.

Movement in the shroud of mist attracted his eye. Most of his face was hidden behind the square shooting hole in the south side of the blind. He saw the tan-gray color of a deer, moving cautiously in the underbrush, pausing, and moving again. Zack silently shifted to one knee and brought his compound bow up, an arrow ready, his right hand gripping the string’s trigger release.

The shifting tawny shape slowly emerged through the ground fog, but it soon became apparent that it was not a deer at all—it was a man. A man coming up one of the game trails, northbound. A man with a pack on his back, a man wearing the camouflage uniform of the Army, a matching wide-brimmed hat concealing his face. Zack shrank away from the shooting port and put his eye to one of the peepholes. Deer would not pay attention to a plywood box suspended from a tree, but a soldier would. The solitary soldier could be a point man. He could be a few yards ahead of a squad or a platoon, probing for booby traps or ambushers.

But as Zack peered at him, he noticed some things that didn’t fit. The man had no rifle or machine gun; in one hand he held a pistol. No point man would come this way armed with only a pistol. But the lone man was wearing the new camouflage pattern uniform of the Mississippi Guard and the United States Army, and it was forbidden on pain of death for civilians to wear it. So the man was a member of the Guard, or he was an Army soldier—or had been.

The drone that had dropped a rocket on his father had been fired by such men. His father was out after curfew, of that there was no doubt. And he was carrying an illegal pump-action shotgun. The government had, he guessed, every legal justification to blow him up with a rocket for violating those two laws. That’s the way the world worked under martial law. Zack understood this, but it didn’t make him feel any better about it.

This soldier was alone, Zack finally decided. He was one of the soldiers who helped to fly the drones, who dropped the missiles on the curfew violators. Men like him had dropped the missile on his father. Was he out checking the results of another missile drop, like the one that had killed his father? No. Alone and armed only with a pistol, he was more likely either a spy or a deserter. He could be a military spy from Tennessee, on his way back to make a report. Maybe he was even one of the foreign “peacekeepers” in an American uniform.

The man paused for a solid minute, looking in all directions, and stared up at the boxy deer blind. Zack knew it must be clearly outlined against the pale dawn sky. But the man had no heat-sensing infrared scope, so Zack trusted that he was invisible in his box—as long as he remained motionless and made no sound.

Finally, the man looked around in a wide circle and continued walking a few steps at a time, passing less than thirty feet away, directly in front of the blind. Zack slowly shifted to another peephole in the long side of the blind, and he saw the man going away now, walking north up the game trail below the power lines, with brush and saplings and bushes up to his shoulders. It was winter and the shrubs were mostly without leaves, so he could easily see the soldier through them.

Without thinking, operating on automatic, Zack twisted around in the box and rose to a one-knee crouch, his compact bow rasping against the interior plywood, almost but not quite silent. The arrow was nocked into the string, his trigger release was ready in his right hand. He rose to a crouch and took aim through the square cutout on the north side of the box. He took in a breath and held it, drew back the seventy-pound pull string, and put the glowing orange plastic bead sight on the man’s back as he reached full draw. The compound bow’s wheels rolled to a stop, held for a moment—and then he let fly…


TOPICS: Conspiracy; Government; Military/Veterans
KEYWORDS: dronestrike; randpaulfilibuster
A reminder to our generals and DHS supergrades:


1 posted on 03/06/2013 6:42:22 AM PST by Travis McGee
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To: Travis McGee

Bump


2 posted on 03/06/2013 6:47:58 AM PST by Just another Joe (Warning: FReeping can be addictive and helpful to your mental health)
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To: Eaker; Absolutely Nobama; afnamvet; Ancesthntr; An Old Man; APatientMan; ApesForEvolution; ...
On CNN this morning, I was amazed to see them discussing AG Holder's claim that he can authorize drone strikes against Americans in America.

It prompted me to excerpt this part of my 2009 novel "Foreign Enemies And Traitors."


3 posted on 03/06/2013 6:49:23 AM PST by Travis McGee (www.EnemiesForeignAndDomestic.com)
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To: Travis McGee

before too long your name will be listed among the prophets...only semi-sarc...


4 posted on 03/06/2013 6:53:25 AM PST by Gilbo_3 (Gov is not reason; not eloquent; its force.Like fire,a dangerous servant & master. George Washington)
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To: Travis McGee

I still remember you writing your book series and being under pressure to write faster as no matter how fictional your writing the real-world news was catching up. Sad, your books were written not that long ago but they are without question a definitive narrative of current events.

If people want to know what is in store they should get all three and study them.


5 posted on 03/06/2013 6:59:06 AM PST by CodeToad (Liberals are bloodsucking ticks. We need to light the matchstick to burn them off.)
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To: Travis McGee

The government is following your script pretty closely...

When are WE going to start following OUR lines from your narrative?


6 posted on 03/06/2013 7:06:42 AM PST by Dead Corpse (I will not comply.)
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To: Dead Corpse

We’re still in the fight as long as we still have the first two amendments. We’ll know it’s time to use the 2A when they find a way to silence Rush, Glen, talk radio generally, control the internet, take FOX off the air and so on. (That is the Hugo Chavez playbook that Obama and his circle of secret communists are using.)

If they begin to outlaw firearms that were legal to own in 2012, that will be another signal. Rotten state laws I can live with, as long as folks can move to free states with their guns. But a national law outlawing or even requiring the registration of firearms legal to own in 2012 will be a step over the dead line.

CW2 will commence with firearm confiscation raids.


7 posted on 03/06/2013 7:20:50 AM PST by Travis McGee (www.EnemiesForeignAndDomestic.com)
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To: Travis McGee
I'm always reminded of the story from Nuremberg about the group of nazis being marched up the scaffold to their fate, and this one dude, some newspaper mouthpiece IIRC, shreiked out "Heil Hitler!" before the noose was put on him by the MPs.

When the trapdoors sprung, so many nazis were hanging dead like so many bags of potatoes. All but one... the newspaper mouthpiece dude was floppin' around and mmmp mmp mmmmp making noises...

Afterwards, an american reporter mentioned it to the MP who put the noose on him, who said, "yeah I strangled the bastard."

After the dude shrieked in defiance on the way up the steps, the MP moved the noose around away from the place where it would snap the guy's neck, and he would die by strangulation at the end of the rope.

Just a footnote to history...

8 posted on 03/06/2013 7:30:28 AM PST by OKSooner (Godspeed, 3-D Danny.)
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To: Dead Corpse

Do you think that the government or Prestitutes would report any such actions?

It will all be “lone crazy gunman,seperatist or anarchist groups” story line. My hunch is they use the drones on a militia training off the beaten path to get everyones undivided attention. You know they are full of Larry Potts, Lon Huruchi types just begging for a reason to go hot.

The last 15 years history says so...


9 posted on 03/06/2013 7:31:29 AM PST by VRWCarea51
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To: Travis McGee

Still amazed at your prescience Bump!


10 posted on 03/06/2013 7:34:58 AM PST by zzeeman ("We can evade reality, but we cannot evade the consequences of evading reality.")
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To: Travis McGee

Bracken/McGee posts are MUST READS!

I read the trilogy and some other similar works of “fiction” by authors like Max Velocity and its truly frightening at how real this “fiction” is becoming.


11 posted on 03/06/2013 7:38:00 AM PST by Finatic (I ran out of change and have given up on hope. FUBO, I am so sick of your sorry a$$ you effin punk)
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To: Travis McGee
Being nibbled to death and herded into corners is how people end up in box cars and ovens.

Can't move for at least two more years. MN is on the verge of passing more gun control.

No more.

12 posted on 03/06/2013 7:39:23 AM PST by Dead Corpse (I will not comply.)
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To: OKSooner

I can believe it, and good for that MP.


13 posted on 03/06/2013 7:41:17 AM PST by Travis McGee (www.EnemiesForeignAndDomestic.com)
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To: Travis McGee
" And he doeth great wonders, so that he maketh fire come down from heaven on the earth in the sight of men... "

The Book of Revelation, Chapter 13 verse 13.

Just sayin'. :)

14 posted on 03/06/2013 7:43:32 AM PST by OKSooner (Godspeed, 3-D Danny.)
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To: Travis McGee
Not sure if dad was there or if he had come home by then.

All I have are some pictures from a big stadium, (Olympic stadium?) with a big round "A" Third Army flag on display, and also gray beer stein that says "Nurnberg Haupt-Bahnhof" on it. Dad and some other guys are in the pictures.

Oh yeah there were some other pictures too, but I wasn't supposed to know about them. Not to the last day of dad's life was I supposed to know about them.

Sis showed them to me one day in secret.

Those pictures weren't from Nuremberg.

Those guys who were hanged got off easy.

15 posted on 03/06/2013 7:54:10 AM PST by OKSooner (Godspeed, 3-D Danny.)
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To: Travis McGee

16 posted on 03/06/2013 8:14:30 AM PST by Bon mots (Abu Ghraib: 47 Times on the front page of the NY Times | Benghazi: 2 Times)
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To: Travis McGee

Cops constantly exercise warrents at wrong homes.
Gonna be a whole lot of fun when some of holders people target the wrong house car or person with one of these murder attemts with an illegal drone.


17 posted on 03/06/2013 8:22:07 AM PST by Joe Boucher ((FUBO))
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To: Travis McGee

Excellent writing, btw.


18 posted on 03/06/2013 8:29:36 AM PST by OKSooner (Godspeed, 3-D Danny.)
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To: OKSooner
 photo 10ber.jpg Not sure who took this picture or I would give him credit. I do know he was a member of the 208th Engineer Combat Battalion. This is the site of the 1936 Berlin Olympics.
19 posted on 03/06/2013 8:32:03 AM PST by yarddog (Per Ardua Ad Alta.)
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To: yarddog

Yeah. That’s where Jesse Owens gave ‘em fair warning. Actually you did answer my question; the olympics were in Berlin, not Nuremberg.


20 posted on 03/06/2013 8:47:41 AM PST by OKSooner (Godspeed, 3-D Danny.)
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To: Travis McGee

CW2 will commence with firearm confiscation raids.

What will he media do? Will they cover them? Or will they be conducted like the Elian Gonzalez raid, in the dark of night.. and will David Gregory be there to identify illegal weapons and magazines? he’s an expert yaknow and has a free pass to display and carry ...


21 posted on 03/06/2013 8:49:20 AM PST by NormsRevenge (Semper Fi)
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To: Travis McGee
Yeah, that was pretty brazen testimony. Chilling stuff, and the stealth drone technology already exists for Obama to exercise at will from 50,000 ft. Even the FAA won't be able to detect it in controlled airspace.

One house with "domestic terrorist bitter clingers" holed up and surrounded. One boom from out of nowhere and a disintegrated structure. Was it suicide by DHS using a propane IED located inside the home or an AGM 114N thermobaric HFM launched from a Predator C being controlled from a command center 1500 miles away?

No one except the FLEAs will be able to cross the crime scene tape to know for sure. The state press release will make it a foregone conclusion for the sheep to consume.

Next target. Searching. Acquiring.

22 posted on 03/06/2013 8:51:34 AM PST by TADSLOS (The Event Horizon has come and gone. Buckle up and hang on.)
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To: OKSooner

I think the 36 Olympics have been the subject of just a little bit of false reporting.

I saw Jesse Owens being interviewed on TV. The stories of Hitler leaving in a huff after Owens won are simply not true. Owens said Hitler was actually very courteous to him. They were introduced after the 100 meters.

Also almost never mentioned is that Germany did “win” the 36 games if you count the number of medals won by any country.

BTW, I despise Hitler as much as anyone but still like to see things as they really were, not as how they are reported.


23 posted on 03/06/2013 8:56:31 AM PST by yarddog (Per Ardua Ad Alta.)
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To: Travis McGee

As soon as I saw the first story about the drones, I immediately thought of your book. I need to go back and read it again.


24 posted on 03/06/2013 8:59:53 AM PST by yarddog (Per Ardua Ad Alta.)
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To: TADSLOS

“Next target. Searching. Acquiring.”

Well, the endgame of American Socialism looks to be vastly more entertaining than the endgame of say, Soviet-style socialism. There, the only drones were spokesmen for the government and Party.

Here, the regime is certainly a long way from collapsing, to say the least!


25 posted on 03/06/2013 9:11:56 AM PST by headsonpikes (Mass murder and cannibalism are the twin sacraments of socialism - "Who-whom?"-Lenin)
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To: Joe Boucher

Won’t matter. Evidence of guilt will always be found in the smoking crater.


26 posted on 03/06/2013 10:23:50 AM PST by Travis McGee (www.EnemiesForeignAndDomestic.com)
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To: NormsRevenge

The MSM will cover them this way:

“Another nest of Tea Party terrorists was eradicated by the glorious Fatherland Security Teams last night. The insane right-wing terrorists were planning a campaign of asssassinations of blablabla etc”


27 posted on 03/06/2013 10:27:33 AM PST by Travis McGee (www.EnemiesForeignAndDomestic.com)
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To: Travis McGee

Holy synchronous serendipitus Batman!

That is the exact passage I stopped reading in the book this morning!


28 posted on 03/06/2013 11:19:36 AM PST by spankalib (The downside of liberty is the need to tolerate those who despise it.)
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To: Travis McGee
Just yesterday, didn't I post as to how eerily prescient your books are?
29 posted on 03/06/2013 1:03:00 PM PST by ExSoldier (Stand up and be counted... OR LINE UP AND BE NUMBERED...)
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To: Travis McGee
Won’t matter. Evidence of guilt will always be found in the smoking crater.

In my crater, they'll no doubt find the charred and smoking remains of the acknowledgements section from your books! It will be a matter of pride for me if it goes that way, mark my words.

30 posted on 03/06/2013 1:14:30 PM PST by ExSoldier (Stand up and be counted... OR LINE UP AND BE NUMBERED...)
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To: Travis McGee
ironically, i started FE&T again on monday...
31 posted on 03/06/2013 2:56:12 PM PST by Chode (Stand UP and Be Counted, or line up and be numbered - *DTOM* -ww- NO Pity for the LAZY)
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To: headsonpikes

As interesting as a grenade dropped in the foxhole.


32 posted on 03/06/2013 3:10:06 PM PST by Travis McGee (www.EnemiesForeignAndDomestic.com)
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To: spankalib

That’s pretty eerie!


33 posted on 03/06/2013 3:21:15 PM PST by Travis McGee (www.EnemiesForeignAndDomestic.com)
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To: Travis McGee

“Rotten state laws I can live with, as long as folks can move to free states with their guns. “ - TM

Travis, first let me say that I have the utmost respect for you, what you have accomplished and your opinion.

But on this point, I have to disagree - State laws banning firearms are as unconstitutional as federal ones. The impact to the residents of the state are horrible.

New New York fell, I lived in Florida so I let it go. Then the whole Northeast region passed blatantly unconstitutional laws, and I did not act, because I lived in Florida.

Now, the federal government claims that the laws need unifying in recalcitrant states, and now Florida is outnumbered...

(stolen from when they came for the...)


34 posted on 03/06/2013 4:52:15 PM PST by Triple (Socialism denies people the right to the fruits of their labor, and is as abhorrent as slavery)
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To: Triple

I agree, they’re all unconstitutional. I was addressing the “when do we shoot back” aspect. Not over NY’s laws, I would say, not while a NYer can still pack up and move to FL or TX or other free states with his guns.


35 posted on 03/06/2013 8:06:30 PM PST by Travis McGee (www.EnemiesForeignAndDomestic.com)
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To: TADSLOS

And soon after that point is reached, the power goes out state by state, and suddenly big brother has a big problem keeping his “troops” in the field doing raids or drone strikes. No power will be a great equalizer, if the govt goes full-out bloody Stalinist tyrannical. And they know it. They have to tread carefully, lest they push too far, and things get out of hand.


36 posted on 03/06/2013 8:09:52 PM PST by Travis McGee (www.EnemiesForeignAndDomestic.com)
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To: Travis McGee

Just finished rereading it last week ... hope
we all can have the good fortune of some of your characters.


37 posted on 03/06/2013 9:39:40 PM PST by glock rocks (No, the game never ends, when your whole world depends, on the turn of a friendy card.)
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To: Travis McGee

It is a tough call...

Seems that we are facing a deliberate divide and conquer strategy with the most liberal states first.


38 posted on 03/07/2013 3:52:59 AM PST by Triple (Socialism denies people the right to the fruits of their labor, and is as abhorrent as slavery)
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To: glock rocks

Yeah, and not the bad fortune of Zack Tutweiler’s dad.


39 posted on 03/07/2013 5:07:27 AM PST by Travis McGee (www.EnemiesForeignAndDomestic.com)
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To: Triple

The USA may wind up divided in any event. Every time a gun-owning freedom-loving patriot leaves NY for FL or TX, we are stronger, and they are weaker.


40 posted on 03/07/2013 5:22:25 AM PST by Travis McGee (www.EnemiesForeignAndDomestic.com)
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To: Travis McGee

That is a good point - perhaps there can be a pre-conflict voluntary migration, which would make the battle lines, and the resolution a lot cleaner.

The thing is, the socialists know that they can’t let the producers leave the control of their socialist utopia. If there aren’t enough in the “from those according to their means” category the “to those according to their needs” people will starve. So, the socialists will act to keep “their” means of production (people).

Odds that it is going to get ugly in the USA are the highest they have been in a long time.


41 posted on 03/07/2013 6:00:44 AM PST by Triple (Socialism denies people the right to the fruits of their labor, and is as abhorrent as slavery)
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To: Triple
My latest poke in tyranny's eye.


42 posted on 03/07/2013 7:19:36 AM PST by Travis McGee (www.EnemiesForeignAndDomestic.com)
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To: Bon mots; yarddog

Please see my latest at #42.


43 posted on 03/07/2013 7:21:14 AM PST by Travis McGee (www.EnemiesForeignAndDomestic.com)
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To: Travis McGee

Sad... But effective graphic.


44 posted on 03/07/2013 8:17:16 AM PST by Triple (Socialism denies people the right to the fruits of their labor, and is as abhorrent as slavery)
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To: Triple
If there aren’t enough in the “from those according to their means” category the “to those according to their needs” people will starve.

Uncle Joe and the Norks weren't worried about that sort of thing; why would you think The Won's masters worry about it?

45 posted on 03/07/2013 9:40:43 AM PST by DuncanWaring (The Lord uses the good ones; the bad ones use the Lord.)
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To: DuncanWaring
You know it brother!


46 posted on 03/07/2013 9:09:48 PM PST by Jack Black ( Whatever is left of American patriotism is now identical with counter-revolution.)
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To: DuncanWaring

Travel, especially outside the boundaries of the socialist utopia are tightly controlled in NK and were in uncle Joe’s USSR also.

Money is also tightly controlled in centrally planned Socialist utopias. People have bank accounts, but the bank monitors and controls the amount of withdrawals.


47 posted on 03/08/2013 5:52:45 AM PST by Triple (Socialism denies people the right to the fruits of their labor, and is as abhorrent as slavery)
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To: Triple
People have bank accounts, but the bank monitors and controls the amount of withdrawals.

Remember "Know Your Customer"?

48 posted on 03/08/2013 8:02:58 AM PST by DuncanWaring (The Lord uses the good ones; the bad ones use the Lord.)
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