Showing posts with label Civil War. Show all posts

Tuesday, March 15, 2022

The Rise of Global Fascism

Poor Man Survival

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ISSN 2161-5543

A Digest of Urban Survival Resources

The Rise of Global Fascism and the End of the World as We Know It
By John W. Whitehead & Nisha Whitehead

Barely three years into the 2020s, and we seem to be living out the prophesies of the Book of Revelation with its dire warnings about plague, poverty, hatred and war.

Just as the government hysteria over the COVID-19 pandemic appears to be dying down, new threats have arisen to occupy our attention and fuel our fears: food shortages, spiking inflation, rocketing gas prices, and a Ukraine-Russia conflict that threatens to bring about a world war.

Is this the end of the world as we know it? Or is this the beginning of the end of the world?

Will the world end with a bang or will it end, as T.S. Eliot concludes, with a whimper?

Robert Frost, torn between a vision of the world ending in fire (the hot flame of violence, anger and greed) or ice (the cold burn of hatred), suggests that either would suffice to do the job.

And then there’s the Polish-American poet Czeslaw Milosz, who envisioned the day the world ends as a day like any other: “Those who expected lightning and thunder are disappointed. And those who expected signs and archangels’ trumps do not believe it is happening now. As long as the sun and the moon are above, as long as the bumblebee visits a rose, as long as rosy infants are born, no one believes it is happening now… There will be no other end of the world.”

In Milosz’ words can be found a distant echo of a warning issued by Bertram Gross in his book Friendly Fascism: The New Face of Power in America:

“Anyone looking for black shirts, mass parties, or men on horseback will miss the telltale clues of creeping fascism. In any First World country of advanced capitalism, the new fascism will be colored by national and cultural heritage, ethnic and religious composition, formal political structure, and geopolitical environment... In America, it would be supermodern and multi-ethnic-as American as Madison Avenue, executive luncheons, credit cards, and apple pie. It would be fascism with a smile. As a warning against its cosmetic facade, subtle manipulation, and velvet gloves, I call it friendly fascism. What scares me most is its subtle appeal. I am worried by those who fail to remember-or have never learned -that Big Business-Big Government partnerships, backed up by other elements, were the central facts behind the power structures of old fascism in the days of Mussolini, Hitler, and the Japanese empire builders.”

Unfortunately, the government’s divide and conquer tactics are working like a charm.

Despite the laundry list of grievances that should unite “we the people” in common cause against the government, the nation is more divided than ever by politics, by socio-economics, by race, by religion, and by every other distinction that serves to highlight our differences.

The real and manufactured events of recent years—the pandemic, invasive surveillance, the extremism reports, the civil unrest, the protests, the shootings, the bombings, the military exercises and active shooter drills, the color-coded alerts and threat assessments, the fusion centers, the transformation of local police into extensions of the military, the distribution of military equipment and weapons to local police forces, the government databases containing the names of dissidents and potential troublemakers—have all conjoined to create an environment in which “we the people” are more divided, more distrustful, and fearful of each other.

What we have failed to realize is that in the eyes of the government, we’re all the same.

When the government and its Global-Industrial Deep State partners in the New World Order crack down, we’ll all suffer.

If there is to be any hope of freeing ourselves, it rests—as it always has—at the local level, with you and your fellow citizens taking part in grassroots activism, which takes a trickle-up approach to governmental reform by implementing change at the local level.

One of the most important contributions an individual citizen can make is to become actively involved in local community affairs, politics and legal battles. As the adage goes, “Think globally, act locally.”

America was meant to be primarily a system of local governments, which is a far cry from the colossal federal bureaucracy we have today. Yet if our freedoms are to be restored, understanding what is transpiring practically in your own backyard—in one’s home, neighborhood, school district, town council—and taking action at that local level must be the starting point.

Responding to unmet local needs and reacting to injustices is what grassroots activism is all about. Attend local city council meetings, speak up at town hall meetings, organize protests and letter-writing campaigns, employ “militant nonviolent resistance” and civil disobedience, which Martin Luther King Jr. used to great effect through the use of sit-ins, boycotts and marches.

And then, as I make clear in my book Battlefield America: The War on the American People and in its fictional counterpart The Erik Blair Diaries, if there is any means left to us for thwarting the government in its relentless march towards outright dictatorship, it may rest with the power of communities and local governments to invalidate governmental and corporate laws, tactics and policies that are illegitimate, egregious or blatantly unconstitutional.

Source: https://bit.ly/3tBmfjE

USEFUL RESOURCES

An expert on civil wars discusses where political extremists [leftists] are taking this country

Barbara F. Walter, 57, is a political science professor at the University of California at San Diego and the author of "How Civil Wars Start: And How to Stop Them," which was released in January. She lives in San Diego with her husband.

Q: Having studied civil wars all over the world, and the conditions that give rise to them, you argue in your book, somewhat chillingly, that the United States is coming dangerously close to those conditions. Can you explain that?

NOTE: I’ve previously described our biggest dangers, which include Demo-socialists, china, and Marxist thugs Antifa and BLM, Open Borders…this typical CA loon and the Biden bottom feeders distorts reality in their view of America…]

https://www.yahoo.com/news/expert-civil-wars-discusses-where-170852345.html

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Blackouts across entire states?

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Monday, November 2, 2020

A Nation on Life Support-Marxists Want to Gut America

Poor Man Survival

Self Reliance tools for independent minded people…

www.poormansurvivor.net

ISSN 2161-5543

A Digest of Urban Survival Resources

The American Experiment is on life support…Preparing for Civil War Against Leftists

Regardless of who wins the elections, American cities will burn because elements outside of U.S. hell bent on destroying our communities [even Wall Street and Silicon Valley are in on the coup of American values], erasing our shared history, and ripping out the roots of our nation, and replacing it with a perverted communist agenda…Part III

My UK associate, a former MI6 agent [the same one who warned me in ’16 of the fake Steele dossier used to start a coup against Trump] tells me of the Deep State snakes ongoing coup efforts funded by globalist/socialists Soros, Bloomberg, et al and its ties, along with the Biden family, to Communist China. Due in large part to media manipulation by these two anti-Americans, he projects Biden’s of a win at 49%, giving Trump a 47.7% odds.

These globalist are hell-bent on destroying America and even the indoctrinated socialist youth of America will rue the day if Biden and his cadre of Communists win.

–>link to previous post here: https://poormansurvivorblog.blogspot.com/2020/10/what-to-do-if-america-turns-socialist.html?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=Feed:+blogspot/zAXAf+(Poor+Man+Survivor-The+Urban+Survivalist)

Many years later while at Stanford, I ended up living in a progressive student house. One of the things that made this house so progressive was the heroic attempt by its students to grow their own vegetables in the house garden. I couldn’t quite understand these efforts. We didn’t need food, and nobody had time to genuinely mind the garden, so the result was meek, half-rotten crops whose main function was to feed local rats and raccoons. There was something almost sacrilegious in growing food that systematically went to waste. I looked at it with a mixture of cultural wonder, sadness, and confusion. It was like raping Mother Earth, stealing from her what we didn’t need for an empty symbolic gesture of self-righteous grandeur. In their fashionable quest for sustainability, the students also decided to cultivate their own compost pile in the backyard, but since nobody had either the time or the patience to mind it, the compost too became a favorite playground of all the local rodents, and a constant source of aroma that filled the air of my small ground-floor room. My mother used to manage her own compost, too, but as I remember it, it never smelled, and I never saw one rat frolicking on it in joyful abandon, as they often did on our Stanford compost. Perhaps it was because my mother sprinkled her compost with soil each time she put something on it. Or perhaps it was because she would check up on it a few times a week, aware that it was supposed to feed a good part of her yearly crops. I don’t know.

Our share was located a few miles outside of our town and it took us about an hour, hour-and-a-half, to walk there. My mother made this walk a couple times a week from early spring to late fall. The season started sometime in late March, early April, and it always opened with the same ritual. After work, my mother, still dressed in her office clothes, pushed my stroller slowly through the winding roads by the riverbank and train tracks. We spotted the first signs of spring, but never really talked. My mother was always somewhere else, ahead of herself in her thoughts, stopping only occasionally to fix the straps of her high heels, or to pick a wildflower that I asked for. My small dog marched bravely next to my stroller, tangling its leash in its wheels or around my mother’s legs. Once we got to our share, a huge pile of horse manure that my mother bought from the local farmer was waiting for us. Spreading the manure was supposed to be my father’s job, but since it had to be done before the first rain washed all the nutrients out of it into one spot in the ground, and since my father always took his time to get around to it, my mother would customarily lose patience and do it herself. I suspected that my father procrastinated each year on purpose, fully aware of the fact that she would eventually break down and do it herself rather than worry about the manure losing its nutritional value.

Republican Candidate’s Home Vandalized With Communist Symbol

And so, each spring, the ceremony repeated itself. My mother would take off her office clothes, her high heels, and her wedding band, and change into old jeans and my father’s plaid flannel shirt. With a gesture worthy of a film noir femme fatale, she smoked a cigarette while strolling around between patches, checking up on the soil and the roots of whatever survived the winter: her roses, raspberry bushes, and trees. Then, she rolled up the sleeves of her shirt, grabbed a dung-fork, and began spreading the manure neatly all over the ground. Once this was done, she smoked another cigarette, took the shovel, and flipped the manure over so that it was now covered with soil. Another cigarette and she grabbed the rake with which she broke the larger chunks of soil, smoothing it away in preparation for the spring seedlings. I sat there in my stroller, dressed in four sweaters, grumpy and whiny, with my dog on my lap, watching my mother lazily, pointing out the spots she had missed and complaining about the smell of manure. Once she was done, my mother took off her jeans and her flannel shirt. She put her office clothes, her wedding band, and her high heels back on, fixed her hair and her makeup, and washed her hands in the nearby river. Slowly and silently she pushed my stroller as we went back home for supper, picking up more wildflowers on our way back. Our dog, bored to death, jumped around, happy we were going back.

In socialism, organizing a food co-op with your friends and family is a must. We didn’t know we were creating co-ops, and there was no official roster as to who exchanges what, but everyone had a specialty food they produced. My parents’ friends’ in-laws had an apple orchard, so every fall we got a couple of boxes of apples from them. My mother peeled, diced, and dried them for winter. My aunt Kazia had a large orchard with cherry trees and raspberry bushes. Every year, my mom and my aunt Eva, with my three cousins, went to visit Aunt Kazia to pick the cherries and raspberries. The boys climbed trees and I sat on a little wooden stool by the raspberry bush, eating most of what I picked. Every year, all three of my cousins and I got sick from overeating freshly picked cherries and raspberries. My grandmother had a garden with edible roses. When the rose flowers were picked, my job was to de-petal them. Once all the petals were removed, my grandmother made rose jam, by blending them with sugar and a touch of vanilla. My grandmother’s garden was bulldozed years ago to make room for a new socialist bungalow, and it’s been over twenty years since I’ve eaten rose jam. If you’ve never made or eaten rose jam, you’ve missed out on one of life’s most sensual pleasures. . . .

Ironically, whatever food we did have, it was 100% all-natural and organic, and not because we were health conscious, elitist, or obsessed with our longevity. No, there were simply no fertilizers, hormones, or pesticides that anybody could buy or even afford. There was only horse manure and compost. I grew up without soda pop and refined sugar. Without chewing gum and M&M’s, without Lunchables and Gerber baby foods, without Snickers Bars, Power Bars, and breakfast bars. Without Pop-tarts, Popsicles, and popcorn. Once in a blue moon, my father bought a bottle of Pepsi or a tablet of Swiss chocolate from Pewex, a chain of stores that catered to foreign tourists. Pewex carried Western sweets, drinks, coffee, and alcohol. You could only shop there with dollars, which meant that only foreigners could shop there, as it was illegal for any Pole to own dollars. The fact that owning dollars was illegal didn’t stop anyone from buying them on the black market to shop in Pewex for birthday sweets and coffee. My father did too, and so each birthday and holiday was celebrated with a tablet of Swiss chocolate, which he ceremoniously divided and passed around among us like a sacred offering.

This Week in Leftist Violence and Intimidation Vol. 10

6. My first encounter with the plentiful and the tasteless

When we came to the U.S. the only grocery store we could afford was Aldi, a chain of stores catering to immigrants and food-stamp recipients. If you’ve never been to Aldi, it looks somewhat like a warehouse. For twenty bucks, you can feed a four-person family for a week. The only problem with Aldi’s food is that it has no taste. Whatever we bought, it had no taste. Strawberries tasted like paper, bread tasted like cotton balls, milk tasted like bleach, and ice cream tasted like tissues soaked in sugar. Within my first month on U.S. soil I developed a strange rash, most likely a response of my spoiled body to the avalanche of chemicals it was suddenly asked to process. My mother and I wondered aloud whether American children who were born here ever knew what a real strawberry or real bread should taste like. It seemed incomprehensible that in this richest country in the world, most of its citizens grew up never knowing the taste of real food. Eventually, I got used to tasteless food, and my rashes went away, but eating became a constantly failed search for the lost taste. It took me thirteen years before I could afford the same kind of food I ate as a child. I remember the anticipation I felt when I finally bought my first pint of organic strawberries. Would they taste like those from my mother’s share? Or would they taste like paper? Another irony of socialist life was that though our socialist government was not able to maintain regular delivery of bread or toilet paper to its stores, it had ambitions to produce and deliver luxury goods.

In fact, each country in the socialist bloc proudly exported its own brand of luxury: Poles had world-class vodka, Russians had Beluga caviar, Cubans, our friends, had cigars, and Hungarians had their Royal Tokaji (currently sold online at $500 for a half-bottle). Once in a while, usually for their anniversary, my parents enjoyed some of these perks of socialist living as all the countries in the socialist bloc would customarily exchange their luxury goods at nominal mark-ups. Since I was too young to participate in these pleasures of adult life, unfortunately, I missed that part. It will probably take me another thirteen years before sentiment moves me to splurge on Russian caviar or half a glass of Tokaji. . . .

7. Eating habits here and there, then and now, and why a 12-step program doesn’t always change your ways

Depending on the circumstances you grew up in, you develop different food habits. My grandmother, who spent her youth in a German labor camp, had a habit of hiding breadcrumbs in her pockets. My American friends who grew up under capitalism like to throw food fights. I, who grew up under socialism, developed a habit of leaving half of my meal on a plate for later, just in case I needed it in the future. This way, I am always certain to know where my next meal comes from. When I got married, the habit became less burdensome and, in fact, very much appreciated by my husband, who, oblivious to my covert prudence, would gleefully consume whatever I left on my plate. Although with the help of my all-devouring husband, I managed to 12-step myself out of the habit, there are still occasional moments when it returns. Three weeks ago, I had dinner with a friend. It was a nice downtown restaurant with starched white tablecloths and stainless steel candlesticks, my friend was smiling at me genially, and I never felt farther away from socialism than I felt at that moment. But then, in the middle of my meal, the impulse came to stop eating, to leave it for later, just in case. . .

http://cosmopolitanreview.com/how-i-survived-socialism/

See How Bad it Has Really Gotten…Disturbing!

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SIDEBAR:

Some Say It Can’t Happen Here. But Many Never Believed a Pandemic Would Happen Either.

Civil disobedience is actually a sign of a functioning democratic society. Thoreau outlined civil disobedience in Walden Pond as a necessary right when expressed through passive resistance. Both Gandhi and Martin Luther King espoused passive resistance as a way to protest without causing damage or harm to others.

Unfortunately, the right to free speech and to assemble in public to protest is not always governed by the calm and sound thinking of Thoreau...

9 Ways To Prepare For Civil Unrest

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Businesses Board Up in Preparation for Election Unrest

SEVEN PILLARS OF A COLOR REVOLUTION

A group of former government officials, journalists, senior campaign managers, along with other anti-Trump folks met this past summer to war-game the upcoming Presidential election. The group was called Transition Integrity Project (TIP). Some of the dignitaries that attended the meeting as reported by Wikipedia were:

Seven Pillars of a Color Revolution | American Partisan

www.americanpartisan.org/2020/09/seven-pillars...

Civil War: How America Could End – Glenn Becktps:/ https://youtu.be/0HaXZgPD1VU/youtu.be/0HaXZgPD1VU

Obama leads the revolution/coup attempts against Trump even publishing a manual-Organizing for Action.

Just a few years ago, the mere concept of a Civil War 2.0 seemed like a fantasy. But now, as tensions have risen and the country has become more unstable, the possibility of a civil war is on a lot of people’s minds.

As a result, we can no longer just prepare ourselves for the possibility of a natural disaster or an economic catastrophe. We have to prepare for the possibility of a civil war as wel. Would you be prepared if fighting were to erupt in your city?

This video by City Prepping explains how to prepare for an American Civil War...

Civil War Preparedness: 4 Choices You Must Make

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7 Signs Civil War Is About To Happen In The U.S.

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