You probably feel like you want to scream nonstop, just scream at the top of your lungs or louder, “STOP IT! JUST STOP IT! GODDAM IT, I SAID F*CKING STOP IT!!!!!!!!”
Scream all you like, nobody will come to save you. There is no Superman, no Batman, no Wonder Woman and no Mighty Mouse.
It’s just you, in your home, trying to mind your own business, and there are people in your face who want to smash you and destroy you.
You can’t figure out why, but they do.
It’s nothing personal. They’re looking for a victim, a scapegoat and, even if they started their own group and they think they’re in charge, they’ve all been taken over by an international team of “motivators” who are adept at taking over movements and using them for their own purposes.
This is certainly true of the Leftist and Right-Wing civilian militia — which is stone illegal, but unstoppable in this atmosphere of fascism and fear.
You can’t imagine how animalistic it is in those groups — it’s all about the anger, the rage, and the sense of entitlement.
Middle-Class kids with a chip on their shoulder and a weapon in their hands, and they can’t wait to use it. Any time people get hold of a new weapon, they will use it, even atomics.
Forget about whether someone will use nuclear weapons in the future — we’ve already used nukes in warfare, in April of 1945, against Hiroshima and Nagasaki, Japan.
We’re probably going to see them used again very shortly, perhaps against hurricanes.
It’s a crazy world, and getting crazier all the time, and the scariest and most out of control element is the home-made militia, of the right, left and middle — they’re all crazier than an old red hound-dog, foaming at the mouth.
Speaking of doggie-doo, most political types these days are plagued with distemper, making them foul-mouthed and most disgusting.
The enraged snarling at the First Presidential Debate is a good example of what we’re in for on the political scene, and you should be prepared for street violence regardless of who wins the election.
Nothing will change that — the event is recorded in all the 21st century textbooks that survived, meaning both of them.
Speaking of “both of them”, apparently only two books survived the burning of the Trump Library, and one of them, he hadn’t even colored-in yet.
Sure, I’ve used that joke before, but he’s a used joke, just on his own, and his enablers are even more laugh-worthy and comical, albeit deadly dangerous and more than mildly psychotic, as is their Fearful Leader, Donald Jackass Trump.
The political nutcases are coming out of the woodwork now, especially with a wannabe fascist dictator like Trump in charge. They’re well-armed and ready for combat, and have you in their sights.
You are the target. You are the target. You are the target.
It helps you to survive a massive attack to remember that you are the target, and it’s best not to argue or beg for your life — just stay the Hell out of the way of those zombie-like creatures that somewhat resemble humans, but aren’t.
They are wolves, they hunt in packs, and they do whatever they please to whomever gets in their way, so stay out of their way, unless you’re in my position — too f*ckin’ old to care, and quite ready to leave this shithole planet.
Yes, shithole planet. That’s what we call it up there, a shithole planet, and why? Because it is, that’s why.
Not my problem, but you are in a pickle, so I’ll gladly stop a moment and help you out, but first of all, you’ll have to try to remember where you came in.
Okay, okay, I get it. You’re here and you don’t know why, and you’re under attack from the right, from the left and from the middle, and you don’t know what to do.
You’re scared, confused and bewildered. Why would anyone want to attack YOU? You’ve done nothing — you’re just trying to get along, take care of your home and family, feed the kids, keep food on the table, find some work, stayin’ alive, stayin’ alive…
It’s a big circus out there, and it wants YOU for lunch.
Here you are, surrounded by masses of wild-eyed radicals from the left, the right, the middle and from nowhere in particular, you’re scared to Hell, and you want to scream and keep on screaming.
You’re sitting there, fully expecting to be attacked either in your home, or on the street, shopping or voting in a voting booth surrounded by fascist black-shirts and weaponized self-styled “soldiers” who demand to watch you vote.
If you vote for the wrong candidate, they will do exactly what would happen to you in Russia, if you failed to vote for Putin — they will beat you to a pulp.
Hey, wear a body-cam and sue them in a wrongful death suit — oh, I forgot — you can’t very well sue them when you’re dead.
In that case, I recommend that you survive somehow and bring them to justice.
That might mean having your own means of self-defense. I don’t recommend firearms or deadly weapons, but I DO recommend you learn the art of close-order combat.
You start out unarmed, and you disarm the opponent, then use their weapon against them. This is what you’re basically doing in Team Fortress 2, when you knock off the enemy and take the remaining ammo case and metal, both of which make ammo for you.
You must have metal in order to fire your Primary Weapon, at least, and when you run out of ammo or air-blast or whatever’s in your Primary, you automatically switch over to the Melee Weapon.
In the case of a Pyro, that means close-combat. The SLAP HAND and the HOLY MACKEREL are slap-kills, but they’re no good at a distance.
You need to be actually in their face to make the slap-kill work, and that goes for any of the Tertiary Weapons, such as the Garden Rake or the Baseball Bat that the Scout uses.
How humiliating to endure a fish-kill, a slap-kill or a bat-kill, and that’s the idea.
It’s very much part of the Overwhelm Effect of the Demo Knight that his sword chops off the head of his enemies, and then stores the heads inside the sword.
In the Real World, they do the same thing. What they show on TV is what people actually do or will do, if they have the chance. Don’t forget the Official Christian Golden Rule, which has recently been adjusted for the 21st century, to read:
“Do unto others before they have a chance to do unto you.”
Don’t give the bastards the chance to do unto you. Stay out of the conflict zone if you can, and if not, protect yourself as you need to.
Travel in LARGE groups, especially to the polling station. They will be waiting there to intimidate you and make you fear them. If you’re not going in there in the company of Federal troops, you’d better be prepared for a violent confrontation, particularly if you look like you’re going to vote Democrat.
They will assume that anyone of color will be voting against Trump. I wish they were right, but there are a lot of really stupid cows out there, and they tend to always vote with their wallet.
It’s up in the air who will win the election, but no matter who wins, there will be a struggle in the streets — it’s gone too far already for that not to happen, and according to history, it does.
Most people will cave in to the POLLING PLACE militia, and they’re right to be deathly afraid of those bastards, and many people will slink away, and not attempt to vote. Others will try to mail in their ballots, but those will be contested, and the ones who actually go to the voting booths will fear for their very lives.
Many will be driven by the threat of having their mail-in ballots thrown out, and they will decide to physically go to the nearest polling station to vote, but they will do so realizing that they might die either from covid-19, as a result of public exposure, or die at the polling place, much more immediately, as a result of the vicious bloody beatings by the well-armed, young and aggressive civilian militia, who will be, sadly, assisted by the police.
In my opinion, the police — upon whom I have had good reason to depend these many years — can no longer be trusted to protect us ordinary unarmed voting citizens against heavily armed military-style militia who come into an area in buses, vans and trucks, armed with full-auto machine guns, military and police-style body-armor, and high-velocity armor-piercing ammo, fired through a variety of vicious battlefield level rapid-fire weapons that the ordinary citizen wouldn’t think of owning.
It’s a planet-full of fully-armed and highly motivated crazies, wanting to bring about the zombie apocalypse, and I have it on good authority — my 21st century history textbooks from my home in the 37th century — that it will happen.
It’s called the “Zombie Wars” and it starts about now.
If it’s not the zombie wars they want to see, it’s the Rapture, in which everything blows up sky-high, and a great big hand dips down and picks up all the born-again Christians who happen to belong to the right church, and everyone else goes to Hell.
That means anyone who isn’t their brand of Christian.
Gee, that doesn’t sound like the Jesus I knew and played cards with at Joseph’s house. He wouldn’t recognize this world, and would have no use for the violent assholes that practice that shit in His Name.
Hell, they’d do the same in anyone’s name, if it brought them to power, fame, riches and glory — what else is there to live for???
Actually, I keep telling folks that I’m here to see a bomber, and of course that’s a famous line from the movie “Buckaroo Banzai Across the Eighth Dimension”, but it’s also true that I am here to see a bomber.
Actually, the “bomber” is a series of world-famous 21st century historical incidents that I’m here to record and note — and hopefully then bring back, in the form of memory-notations, the information to make into a history report so I can graduate out of this stinker of a high-school course.
Of course I can’t bring a camera with me across time zones, so I have to rely on memory, and it has to survive death and rebirth, naturally.
You might not be familiar with the death and rebirth process, and you might not remember your past lives, or how you came to be here in the first place, and what you hoped to accomplish while you were here in this insane cross-section of American History, and you’re so goddam scared of what’s happening in Trump Amerika that you want to scream, and scream, and scream.
It’s no wonder you feel like screaming.
You’re feeling trapped, helpless and unable to defend yourself. Well, relax — you’ve got plenty of company, including the former President and First Lady, and several hundred high-level political persons.
Trump is a bully because he is afraid.
He’s a coward, and he attracts and appeals to other cowards, who see him as strong and aggressive, like a bull-ape, which is what he is.
His mentality is very close to that of a three-year old child, with the cognitive functions in place, but no ethics developed yet.
In Trump’s case, it never did develop — he has no sense of belonging to the human race, and no concept of service or dedication.
He also never does anything for free.
Everything with Loser Donald is transactional — he has Daddy Issues that cripple him and make him crazy.
He’s pissed off that everyone eventually dies, thinks it’s a ripoff and wants his money back, and if he can’t live forever, he wants to take as many people with him as he can, when he goes, and he’s already got 200,000 to his credit.
The illness of NPD is easier to treat if you happen to be a transactional psychologist, but I’m not, and you’re not, and so, naturally, when you’re confronted with a total maniac, and you come to understand that he literally has the power of life and death over you, and that he controls millions of equally insane followers who are bloodthirsty and hungering for a victim, well, then — quite naturally — you want to scream nonstop at the top of your lungs forever, and I don’t blame you one bit.
Actually, I could do a little screaming in utter fear and frustration my own self, but I’m too highly trained to permit myself the luxury.
Instead, I check to see if I still have enough ammo in my guitar, and I make sure it’s in instant reach. My guitar is my only weapon. It destroys fascists in any key.
The same is true in Team Fortress.
If I’m in the Intel room, and I’m guarding the Intelligence briefcase on the desk — that’s assuming I’m playing Two Forts, which is not always the case — I want to be at the ready, with my Secondary Weapon controlling my Sentry Gun, and I’d be spraying the entire room every 60 seconds to reveal any spies, or running around the room whacking away with my monkey-wrench, to reveal any Spies in the room.
See, Spies lose their invisibility if they’re wounded.
They’re particularly visible when they’re smoking from a Pyro blast, but not quite dead, which is how I like to leave them.
A Spy might have a “DR”, pronounced “Dee-Are” — which stands for a “Double-Ringer” watch, which allows the Spy to SEEM to drop dead, but in fact, he keeps on going — invisibly — in a second “Astral” body, which regenerates as the original body after a few seconds.
A Dead Ringer Spy is exceptionally hard to stop. Keep that in mind as you go through life. The Pyro is the only real solution to a Plague of Spies, which can happen now and then, depending on the level of play and players.
Subtlety is not the keyword in public gaming.
A Spy loses invisibility with movement. Don’t move and you’ll stay invisible. Move, and you’ll appear as a rapidly-moving whispy cloud, just on the edge of visible.
A really experienced Engie will detect this watery “bubble” of redness or blueness, depending on which team the Spy belongs to, and blast away at it.
Spies can’t generally figure out how you knew they were there. The best plan is to assume that there’s at least one Spy staring right at you at this very moment, somewhere in the room.
I’ve been a Spy and done exactly that, sitting on the Engie’s Sentry Gun as a matter of fact, or on the desk, or in the corner, just waiting for the Engie to duck out of there.
I generally take the Intel, then deliberately drop it where I want to take it, such as the spiral or the straight stairs, then return to the Intel Room, and wait invisibly for the Intel to return to the desk.
At that very moment, I take it again, and generally the opposing team doesn’t hear the announcement that the other team has taken their Intel.
They miss it entirely, allowing me to calmly run out of the Fort without firing a shot.
A Bully doesn’t understand subtle, and there is no cure for Stupid.
The whole idea of bullies is that they make people afraid of them, even though they are fundamentally cowards and generally can’t fight their way out of a paper bag.
Most folks who experience street fighting think that’s the same as military close-combat. It isn’t.
In ordinary self-defense, you want to disarm and contain the violence. In military combat, there’s only one outcome, and a slightly wounded opponent is not in the cards.
In short, the military mission is: “Kill the Enemy & Break His Shit.”
Team Fortress 2 is built around military lines. There’s a Scout, a Soldier, a Pyro, a Heavy, a Medic, an Engie, a Spy and a Sniper.
Those don’t sound like the professions of any of your neighbors.
You’ll only find those character classes related to military action, and that’s my point — when you’re in a game, you have to think military in order to achieve any caps, and caps are the whole point of the game, not just killing.
Of course, there’s a LOT of killing that goes on between the beginning of the game and the third cap, which generally ends it.
In summer camp, we went to 21 caps before a new game, which meant that the counselors supervised a “scramble” of the teams, of course, causing an instant mass-groan from the kids, and wholesale confusion until it got all sorted out, about a minute into the next game.
The Capture-The-Flag or CTF games were endless, like the ping-pong, which was usually captured by, and dominated by, the eighth-graders from the Big Tents, or by the counselors, who weren’t supposed to play when the campers were there, but they did.
In the camper version of Capture the Flag, you tried to grab the enemy flag, which was a red shirt or a blue shirt, draped over a low-lying bush.
There was a No-Man’s-Land between the two bases, a holdover from the First World War, but generally the same layout throughout the centuries, starting with the first cave-man.
When I wrote about this time-zone in “SlimeWars”, it was still 45 years in the future, and I was — perhaps rightly at the time — called an alarmist.
But now you see it happening all around you, and as I said in that book, written 45 years ago, by the time you can see it coming, it’s already far too late.
You’re trapped in an ultra-violent society of humans, who have more organically in common with pigs than with monkeys, and you can fact-check me on that!
Fact-checking is only necessary when lying is the Golden Standard, and it is — why check your facts before publishing? Nobody needs facts anymore.
Whatever you say either is true or becomes true by repetition.
So I opened this dissertation on Team Fortress 2 with the idea in mind that it could help you with the screaming issue.
You feel helpless and afraid and you want to scream bloody Hell, or grab up a weapon and start spraying the area until the last round is spent.
Well, that’s perfectly reasonable, and the kind of response you’d expect from a cornered animal.
Well, go ahead, indulge yourself — get into Team Fortress 2 and select a character class that suits your mood.
Go into the “Items” bin and arm your character up with the things that appeal to you, keeping in mind that you can always instantly change your weapons LOADOUT, which is the array of primary, secondary and tertiary weapons you’d like to use, then of course, the all-important “HAT” and the ever-popular little creatures and floating bats and such, as well as the booster you’d like to have at your disposal in a pinch.
If you’re worried about Real World issues like militia and such breaking into your home, school, office or polling place, you’ll want to prepare yourself in a non-violent manner.
DO NOT USE WEAPONS in the Real World, unless the zombie apocalypse is truly upon you, and then in that case, it’s best to avoid conflict and stay in the deepest woods you can find, where survival is a matter of eating pine cones and finding food and water and shelter, none of which require combat.
Stay strictly out of the way.
Now, if you can’t, or if you’re attacked without provocation, you have to decide how to protect yourself and your family.
I wouldn’t go immediately to deadly weapons, when you can use tricks that don’t cause harm — I’ll be discussing those when we do the WINTER WORKSHOP, if there’s still an internet and a way to communicate across it.
If the internet is gone, we’ll of course use telephone, and I’m a ham radio operator and I can direct you how to set up a 2, 4 and 6 meter transceiver that’s impervious to EMP.
I already have several — one worldwide radio rig for me, and several more for those who want to get them checked out by me personally to assure that they work every time without fail.
Staying in touch will be the hardest thing for a while, and radio is your best answer, but it’s a dead art and a dead science and a very dead set of skills, starting with Morse Code.
Why Morse and not vocal communication?
Vocal comm breaks up and can become very distorted and difficult to understand. Dits and dots are easily discernible one from the other, so Morse Code is preferred for emergency transmissions.
As good as my receiver is — a Collins R-392 Jeep-mounted rig — it’s nothing without the DIAMOND antenna, standard issue for mounted military like our outfit was.
With that precision-math tuned antenna, I can hear a walkie-talkie transmission in Latvia and no, I’m not kidding or exaggerating — it’s all about nulling and knowing how to tune in the micro.
There’s also the matter of taking down code. It’s easy as Hell today — merely record it and play it back at leisure.
The Not-So-Good-Method of taking down code is to write it or type it as the letters and numbers come across.
It’s a lot easier if it’s not in code. Encoded messages generally break up every fifth or sixth character, into neat little rows, where you can’t tell what a word might be by its length.
You’ll need a thorough knowledge of the “Q” codes, to check signal strength and such, but other than that, Morse Code and a thorough grounding in radio repair will suffice.
Yes, radio repair. The buggers are notoriously buggy, and require a full-time mechanic to keep the thing working, especially with tube radios, where the filaments just plain break without warning.
Tubes are not pervious to EMP. That’s right, isn’t it ??? The opposite of impervious is pervious, and the negation of perviety would of course be “not pervious”, just as in the morning, one might gurgitate a couple of eggs and some toast.
“Re” means “again”. I don’t want to think about this W.C. Fields joke for too long — actually, this is my limit for the “gurgitate” gag — unfortunate choice of words there.
So if you’re feeling like screaming nonstop and you don’t want to hurt anyone or do any harm to persons, places or things, strap yourself into an 8-hour binge game of Team Fortress 2, allowing for pee-breaks as demanded by Great Nature, and kill everything in sight.
I prefer Pyro, just because there’s something satisfying about setting an entire opposing team ablaze and hearing them scream and howl in agony.
It’s kind of relaxing.
I like to do my editorial thinking in the midst of heavy combat, don’t you? And if you’re confronted with violence in the Real World, just get away from it, keep it at a distance.
Do all your fighting online, in Team Fortress 2. Let the crazies battle it out between themselves, knock themselves out, blow their own game, sink their own ship.
Of course, when confronted with racism, you have to speak out.
My personal opinion on the best and least harmful way to handle a bully is to beat the motherf*cking daylights out of him and leave him on the cement for the wagon to come and take away.
Nothing stops a bully except another bully.
So for one agonizing minute, you have to become a tough guy, a bully, a monster with a grudge and a ferocious passion to destroy everything in sight.
Okay, it’s a distraction from your bliss, but you do get to land at least one punch before you go down for the third time.
I like those odds.
If you only use your body as a weapon, you don’t have to defend a firearms issue. Just make sure you can do the same damage with your body-parts that you could have done with a deadly weapon.
That’s why I like the HOT FIST — but it only goes onto your Pyro. The Heavy can box with bare hands, and it does the same damage as “Fists of Steel” but not as dramatically, with a bunch of graphic effects as you land punches.
If you learn how to defend yourself with your body as a weapon, you might get some clues how you can do that in Real Life.
Two years ago, in town, I was threatened by three six-foot tall gentlemen of the “bully” persuasion.
They were clearly stoned on something heavy, and were very belligerent. They said they were coming over to kick me to death, but something about my stance made them take pause.
Frankly, I was ready, and quite prepared to face charges for manslaughter if it came to that — I’m quite able to defend myself, even at the age of just a couple of weeks before the venerable old age of 79.
It’s a matter of commitment to the action, nothing more. Doesn’t take a special talent, or a lot of martial art skills, just total commitment to the action, is all.
I recommend that for all actions.
See You At The Top!!!
gorby