I’ll be dead by then ?
we are two nations, divided more or less on the old confederate borders.
If still moving, y’all will be able to hear the creaking miles away. The snarling, too..............
The USA will no longer exist. It will have disintegrated due to repeated administrations of insane leftists who will debt us into oblivion. Then patriot reactionaries will seize a small section of the country in the ensuing chaos, and the rest descends into minor anarchy.
The world will plunge into a second Dark Age, but it will actually be a golden age of sanity.
At one time I’d jokingly speculate that within five years I’d either be dead, or in hiding. Beginning to wonder about that now.
In the year 2525, if man is still alive....
If i’m still alive i’ll be 97 and won’t give a damn!
CWII will continue to smolder.
Kudos to Ding Dong! The Witch is Dead.
The Jetsons?
Prostitution and so called “soft” drugs will be legal in most states while Churches will lose tax exempt status.
I was talking to a friend this evening about what might happen in the future. Neither of us saw a good outcome.
Mexico “controls” the South and Southwest. A jungle.
China controls the Northwest and Midwest. A living hell.
Muslims control the East, out to Chicago. Another living hell. They are always at war with the Mexicans and the Chinese.
Ninety percent of the 2008 population of the former U.S. is dead, killed by EMPs set off by Obama right before he fled to Europe, and by TB, scabies, polio, Ebola, etc., known collectively as O’Malley-Gomez disease, after the late Cardinal Sean O’Malley and Archbishop José Gomez, both of whom succumbed to Ebola and tuberculosis five weeks after celebrating a “Mass in Thanksgiving for Immigration Freedom” on the former Texas-Mexico border while campaigning for the re-election of Obama in 2016.
NASA reports that no Sunspots are observed this month...and that the ice age is expected to continue to the end of the century.
The United States still exists, but in a slightly altered form.
We are a prosperous nation again, but we are that way after several years of chaos. The unprecedented Republican landslide in the General Elections of 2014 was encouraging. However, the next day, the detonation of a nuclear device in downtown Seattle (smuggled in aboard a container ship) resulted in the declaration of martial law by Barack Obama. In doing so, he declared that the previous days results were put ‘on hold’ until the crisis was over. It was at that point that several nationally-known conservatives threw caution to the wind, took to the air, and began openly calling for the ouster of Obama from the presidency. Many of them were arrested, including the now-famous recording of federal agents assaulting the studio of Rush Limbaugh and shooting him dead live on the air.
For many, that was the last straw and acted as the ‘go signal’ to begin the Second American Revolution/Civil War II.
The war lasted for 2 years and was bloody. it reduced the population from 300 million down to just about 125 million. The greatest reduction came in the inner cities, with many rival ethnic groups fighting each other for supremacy and the police and National Guard simply ‘staying out of it’. The survivors went outward from there, but found that Americans in the suburbs and rural areas weren’t going to stand for that nonsense. The loss of life among the raiders from the cities was astounding.
The war ended when a group of young military officers who still had a passion for what the US was supposed to represent, staged a coup d’etat and arrested President Obama in early 2017. When the takeover was announced, many in the administration attempted to flee the country, but were apprehended by ‘patriot’ forces. Some decided, like VP Biden, to commit suicide rather than be taken. Several were tried and convicted of high treason and summarily executed. It didn’t matter what party you were in...if there was a record of you voting for or supporting actions that was harmful to the United States and it’s people, you were guilty.
In the most famous of the executions, Barack Obama stood on the gallows. As a hood and the noose was placed over his head, he clearly shouted “Allahu Ackbar!” at least twice and was still yelling it when the trapdoor fell away and he was hanged.
It took another 2 years for some semblance of order to come to the whole country. The biggest hiccup was the rising of the Hispanic/Mexican element in Southern California in the summer of 2017. Latinos simply outnumbered both the the white and black population of the SoCal area, and their sudden uprising and demands of secession as a separate country took everyone by surprise. Since a bloody civil war had just ended, the country was in no mood for another one, so the state of California was halved and the southern section became ‘Aztlan’ in June of 2018.
The new US government adhered to a strict Constitutional policy. If it wasn’t in the Constitution, it wasn’t necessary. There were some concessions made due to the advancement of technology (nuclear weapons, for example), but a ‘limited government’ mindset was the new norm in the nation’s capital.
2034 saw the world looking at America once again as a shining beacon of freedom and prosperity after a long and painful struggle.
I could imagine a series of diary entries like this -
My world ended for the first time just before my 18th birthday. Dad called the family together to break the news to us. To boost profits, the Corporation who owned the farm where we worked would now rent out our home. The place where I grew up would now be going to the highest bidder. Because he worked for the same Corporation that was tossing us out, Dad said he couldn’t afford the minimum bid for the place. That’s when he let us know they’d also cancelled our status as tenant workers. Since sharecroppers cost less, the bastards stood to make even more profits.
Happy Birthday.
We left the next morning. There was no real choice. It made no sense to fight the status change. If we stuck around, a labor enforcement squad would arrive to bust up what little we did own. Then, they would start busting us up. Dad loaded Mom and the other kids in the truck. They left for a place he knew of in the one of the old Canadian Providences. Once there, he’d hoped to get some work.
I loaded up my cyclo and headed for a harvesting operation in the area. These operations were always on the move and as a result, had a constant need for drivers and mechanics. At least I wouldn’t have to worry about my next meal. Or so I thought. I learned a lot my first two years after I left home.
The first thing I learned was just because someone works with you doesn’t mean they won’t try to steal everything you own first chance they get. Because of the turnover, you couldn’t afford to trust anyone. Ever. I got lucky, I only lost my canvas hammock, not a killer. It just meant that I had to sleep in the dirt and crud found on the floors the ‘worker housing’ that some farms provided. Other places, I just crashed in the tractor cab, there wasn’t even a shelter. Working sunup to sundown was nothing new. Having no place to sleep was a bit of an...adjustment.
The next big thing I learned was that sometimes you can get something for free that will wind up costing you damn near every credit you own. The medic told me the kind of VD I had was the least expensive to treat. It took nearly every credit I had, but at least my member wasn’t going to fall off.
Other fun things I learned... Never drink with the people you work with. Put some of your processed food away at each meal. If it rains, you don’t work. If you don’t work, you don’t eat. Start looking for a winter job when - well, you should always on the lookout for a winter job. One that offered room and board. Credits are one thing, but a place to crash and eats aren’t taxed. At least I don’t pay ‘em.
My first winter job was at a heavy equipment rebuild shop. It paid two meals a day, hot, and a decent enough place for me to sleep. Sunday mornings off. The owner was a real work of art. Insisted on paying me everyday. He made a big show of putting credits on my chit, very theatrical. The first weekend I worked for him, I hit a local food outlet and checked my credit balance. I honestly wasn’t surprised to see the SOB had snatched back almost half of my daily wage. I could live with that. Every second he wasn’t around, I worked on rebuilding my scoot, using his tools, parts and material.
Once things turned warm, I loaded up on his fuel. Grabbed all the food the scoot could carry and headed for the breadbasket looking for a planting outfit. I wasn’t burning a bridge. I knew I would never work for the slug again, just the same, my scoot was running pretty sweet.
I learned I wasn’t nearly as smart or skilled as I thought. I got by though. I was offered a gig as a labor enforcer. They were a licensed outfit, so I took the offer. It took me more than a few bruises, but I figured out who would leave with a little encouragement and which ones wanted a fight. The stoners were always the worst. No way to tell how they would react. Some were so mellow; you could lead then by the hand off the property, shutting the gate before it dawned on them what it meant. The scrappers were the worst.
Most outfits didn’t give a s*** what you did off the clock. You showed up reasonably sober and ready to work, everyone was happy. Show up a little more than stoned, you might lose a day’s wages. Show up stoned enough to shove a coworker into the maw of a harvester and now nobody was happy. I didn’t see a guy get shredded, but one of my squaddies swore he was there when it happened. Yeah. Right. Legendary stuff, that.
The biggest thing the job did teach me was how to sort out the worst of the worst by their teeth. Hygiene was optional for most the crews, you had to get past that part pretty fast. Bad gleamers is a sure sign of heavy drug use and certain trouble for any enforcer squad. Before it was all over, two of us would travel with the recruiter team just to offer an opinion how soon we would have to bust someone’s head to get them off the property. Ah, the good old days.
The down side was that everyone hated you. The gomer who eff’d up and got tossed. The stoner or Tune head that got put out. The local pigs thought...no, make that knew that you were stealing rice from their bowl. You’d get sucked into a big brawl and they would just stand there and laugh at you. I love pigs.
The end of season was always the worst. Everyone on the crew got tossed. The exception was a mechanic or two selected for the routine winter rebuilds and maybe a couple of Enforcers. We were kept on to ensure as little as possible walked away in the off season.
Over time, things just got harder and harder. Smaller crews, more work, less pay and finally, less food. Nobody had any idea of just why this was going on. The open media was a bad mix of full time advertising and rumor mongering. So I just tried to get by until everything ran out. Several of the nomadic outfits folded altogether and the couple that remained pretty much just paid in food. When I saw the first of the automated harvesters working on the farm next to the one we were on, I knew that it was all over. My world ended again. All that was left was to decide what might be possible to keep body and soul together.
*****
Is it going to get this bad? Dunno. What do you think?
I’ll have a 9:30 tee time.
Hostilities flare as cultures collide.
-PJ
Either blood or lost.