We the People

“There are but two parties now: traitors and patriots…” ~ Ulysses S. Grant

And We the People… are pissed!

Puzzled as well.

Indeed, how anyone with an inkling of contemporary awareness and historical acumen can advocate for censorship; modern-day book-burning; socialism; more government; higher taxes; crime and devastation of a deliberately opened border; Draconian mandates; abandoning Americans in enemy territory, along with scads of other anti-USA freedom traditions masterminded by the spend-thrift Socialist Democrats and supported by their flattering woke followers, is beyond reason.

—If this is you, then you need to work on your critical thinking skills.

What should come as a doomsday vision and bloodcurdling aversion to the current administration’s actions and inactions, dictates and narratives gushing from their communist gullets, is instead a shameless enthusiasm among their familiars and armchair brownshirts to inurn Liberty in their push to a clampdown Marxist society: A political and economical philosophy backed-up by a pristine record of failure, poverty, despair, and dystopia.

Although, admittedly, one can argue the success of Marxism among its elite cabal and its petty, hypocritical, self-admiring aristocrats.

A tsunami of freedom-despising turbulence stirs in the wake of a headstrong iron fist pretending democratic leadership. And We the People find ourselves on the sharp and craggy shores of the Rubicon, facing the storm of a formidable foe. A battle of biblical proportions — reminiscent of the tale between David and Goliath — threatens our Republic.

In a country indisputably divided, the time for silence has slipped away.

A choice we must make: Do we quietly acquiesce to socialist totalitarianism, or do we stand with Liberty?

If the latter, then it’s time to raise the voice and vote of the majority; the legal citizen majority.

It’s time the enemies of democracy heard the will of the Nation, loud and clear.

Speak up, Patriots, before they tighten the muzzle; before they take our guns; before they steal another election; before they turn our country into a third-world shithole (as Trump would say), and before they imprison us for our peaceful protests. As they did on January 6th, Two Thousand Twenty-One. *

Speak up, now, before the only freedom of choice left to us is a woman’s right to abort her unborn.

Kind of ironic, isn’t it?

And speaking of women, here are Five Fabulously Fearless Female Freedom Fighters:

* If the Communist Democrats, their MSM propaganda arm, the leftist dregs, and gutter-washes can call what their BLM punks and Antifa thugs did to our cities and citizens, neighborhoods and businesses across the country over the last several months peaceful, then by rights we can call what happened on January 6 — a humdrum, boring comparison — peaceful as well. And for those who need reminding, the only fatality on that fateful day was the callous, cold-blooded murder of the non-threatening, peacefully protesting veteran Ashli Babbitt. RIP, Rest in Freedom!

Trump / Noem 2024!
Save America Trump 2024


Image courtesy of wynpnt via Pixabay.com

The Game

How to spot an NPC

Note: While some of these traits are often naively displayed by people playing characters, any collectible combination of the below should warrant suspicion.

NPCs (Non-playing characters) show unquestioning certainty in the official 24/7 narrative, regardless of the ocean of discordant information from the same sorry sources.

They display violent opposition to competing opinions. And seek to censor such.

Younger NPCs believe the government should provide their every care for free. Note: This is also the behavior of lazy, ambitionless people playing characters. Don’t be confused.

Older NPCs extol everything cooked up in the fermenting bowels of General Miley’s sizable gut and spewed from his belligerent Marxist maw.

All NPCs possess a prayerful devotion to Fauci.

They wear a mask inside, often in their homes.

They wear a mask outside, even in remote forests, desolate deserts, icy mountaintops, and empty parking lots.

NPCs demand everyone gets vaccinated with experimental, potentially detrimental drugs. But of course, they would, they’re immune.

NPCs like to think of themselves as Woke. I find this comical considering their absolute absence of any meaningful awareness.

Failing to acknowledge their own blatant hate-filled racism, NPCs postulate only whites could be racists.

NPCs accept as fact the “unsettled science” on covid-19 while unilaterally accepting the “settled science” on global warming. Understand, I’m not suggesting the climate isn’t a concern (everything is), but I’m betting all NPCs of the time canceled history on the much-to-do global cooling scare of the ‘70s. And that’s exactly what canceling history does, it makes people players forgetful and throttles critical thought. Exactly what the NPC hopes to achieve.

NPCs don’t own a gun and they don’t want anyone else to. Or, they own a gun but don’t want you to.

They honor George Floyd as a martyr while contending Ashli Babbitt got what she deserved.

On that note, and most ludicrous…

With no idea of what a real coup d’état entails, the NPC snowflake believes the events of January 6th, 2021 by a group of disenfranchised mostly peaceful protesters provoked by professional agent provocateurs (NPCs) attempted the unarmed and uncoordinated overthrow of a government in possession of the world’s greatest militarized force. The nonsensicality of such asinine accusation (reference: General Miley as Chief Asinine) is a dead giveaway of the more poorly programmed NPC, and it comes regardless of their civil/political/military standing.

And most damning…

While We the People are all capable of the occasional bad judgment call, NPCs cast ballots by the thousands for Biden and despite every damnable consequence since the illegitimate inauguration, the telling sign is the NPCs’ artificial intelligence doggedly denies the bugs in their programming by tenaciously backing their choice, their failure.

Remember, to paraphrase the NPC woke, “People silence is violence.”

Don’t be intimated.

Speak up.

Speak often.

Sanity depends on real people playing the game to win.

Jack and Jill

Jack and Jill

A short story from The Collection of Gruesome Inevitabilities, a work in progress.

Jack and Jill hiked up the mountain for a bit of exercise.

While on the ascent, Jack, an athletic specimen just eighteen short months ago, weakened muscles ached, and he struggled to breathe behind his triple-layer designer mask. He asked Jill, “Why don’t you ever wear a mask, or three, or five?”

Jill, fit as a fiddle with no trouble breathing, said, “Why should I?”

Jack, red face crazy with the vein on his forehead pulsing to burst, flabbergasted and heaving laboriously from his months-long oxygen deprivation and becoming increasingly threatening and foaming at the mouth, replied with explosive hysterics, “To stop the spread of KOVID!”

KOVID… Kovid… kovid…, echoed like a decree from the heavens, cascading down the mountainside, escalating an already elevated paranoia in the village idiots below.

Jill, suppressing a grin, seeing the mask’s tan lines and how silly Jack looked with his ears glowing beet-red and spread wide by the straps of his mask, asked, “Does a fart stay in your shorts?”

Once of quick mind, Jack puzzled, then flustered, asked, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Figure it out,” she said with the glee of amusement.

Dumbstruck aggravated, Jack countered, “Doesn’t matter. The Supreme Lord Doctor Faucheezy says…”

“Screw Faucheezy, Jack.”

By damn, that was the last straw. As with most everyone, Faucheezy was the object of his unquestioning worship and unwavering devotion. Flushed with outrage, Jack screamed with clenched fists and murderous fury, “Blasphemer!” But he exhausted himself in the process and wobbled like a weeble from his exertion. He had to rest and catch his breath and so sat on a rock near the mountain’s edge.

“Really, Jack? Blasphemer?” said Jill and started running in place while Jack recovered.

“Jill,” Jack wheezed, and with a really mean-spirited squint, warned her, “Either you wear a mask, or I promise, I’ll turn you over to GAG-ME. That’s the Global Anyone Granted Masking Enforcement if you need reminding. You know they have a zero-tolerance code of ethics. You could be executed, or get life in prison, or worse, you could be canceled! And then you’d still have to wear a fucking mask, any-fucking-way!”

“Jack, I’m your wife for Freedom’s sake,” pleaded Jill, alarmed and visibly shaken.

“It doesn’t matter, I’ll do it! I’m a citizen of the world,” he sneered smugly ugly. “Compelled by the greater good. And masks are for the greater good. Fuck you. Fuck freedom.”

Wanting to say more, but with diminished lung capacity and stifled by gnawing anger, Jack held up an index finger to silence Jill. Then continued, “As our wise and benevolent Emperor, The Honorable Bedridden himself proclaims, ‘We’re all in this together. Masks save lives. Everyone needs to do their part. We’ll get through this, together. Together with compassion.’”

Jill calmed herself and gave Jack a loving smile.

The twinkle in her eye.

And a gentle nudge.

Jack fell back, rolled, and tumbled down the mountainside, snapping his neck. So weakened and robbed of oxygen over the months, he couldn’t catch himself, or even holler for help.

The End

And the moral of this far-fetched fictional tale?

That’s for you to decide.


This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, events, and incidents are the products of my defiant imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, names, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental, I swear it’s true.


The featured image is a composite I made of images from these artists on Pixabay:
Jack and Jill by lizdunbar
Mountain scape by openclipart-vectors
Mask by dapple-designers

This work by Peter Schreiner is licensed under CC BY-ND 4.0