Thursday, June 26, 2014

Special Train For Atkins

I went into a public- 'ouse to get a pint o' beer,
The publican 'e up an sez, "We serve no red-coats here."
The girls behind the bar they laughed an' giggled fit to die,
I outs into the street again an' to myself sez I:
O it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy go away";
But it's "Thank you, Mister Atkins," when the band begins to play-
The band begins to play, my boys, the band begins to play,
O it's "Thank you Mr Atkins," when the band begins to play.
I went into a theatre as sober as could be,
They gave a drunk civilian roo, but 'adn't none for me;
They sent me to the gallery or round the music-'alls,
But when it comes to fighting', Lord! They'll shove me in the stalls!
For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy wait outside";
But it's "Special train for Atkins," when the trooper's on the tide-
The troopship's on the tide, my boys, the troopship's on the tide,
O it's "Special train for Atkins," when the trooper's on the tide.
Yes, makin' mock o' uniforms that guard you while you sleep
Is cheaper than them uniforms, an' they're starvation cheap;
An' hustlin' drunken soldiers when they're goin' large a bit
Is five times better business than paradin' in full kit.
Then it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy 'ow's yer soul?"
But it's "Thin red line of 'eroes" when the drums begin to roll-
The drums begin to roll, my boys, the drums begin to roll,
O it's " Thin red line of 'eroes," when the drums begin to roll.
We aren't no thin red 'eroes, nor we aren't no blackguards too,
But single men in barricks, most remarkable like you;
An' if sometimes our conduck isn't all your fancy paints,
Why single men in barricks don't grow into plaster saints;
While it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy fall be'ind,"
But it's "Please to walk in front, sir," when there's trouble in the wind-
There's trouble in the wind, my boys, there's trouble in the wind,
O it's "Please to walk in front, sir," when there's trouble in the wind.
You talk o' better food for us, an' schools, an' fires, an' all:
We'll wait for extry rations if you treat us rational.
Don't mess about the cook-room slops, but prove it to our face
The Widow's Uniform is not the soldier-man's disgrace.
For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Chuck 'im out, the brute!"
But it's "Saviour of 'is country" when the guns begin to shoot;
An' it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' anything you please;
An' Tommy ain't a bloomin' fool - you bet that Tommy sees!
— Rudyard Kipling

I try not to be doctrinaire about such things, but by and large, I believe that empires are not a good thing. Whatever good they do, which is mostly in keeping the peace, seems to pale into insignificance in comparison with the chaos and bloodshed that ensue when they finally fall apart. And peace is about it, really, for the advantages of empire. And when empires aren't peaceful, they really don't have much raison d'être.

I don't like the idea of an American Empire at all. When you compare it with the last really big empire, the British Empire, it's kind of depressing. The British Empire seems to have enriched a few people quite well, but look at the UK today. How much better off is the average Brit because his country once ruled great swaths of the Earth from India to Africa to the Middle East and beyond? Ironically, you can say that the British Empire enriched the places it conquered rather more than it did the home country. Would India have all those railroads if it had never been ruled by the Brits? Would the former British colonies in Africa have anything? Note that I'm not mentioning the countries predominantly made up of British migrants, like us, because that's a different story entirely.

Still just looking at the UK, largely as a result of having once been the seat of a great empire, it now has an enormous, intrusive bureaucracy and cameras on every corner. Also, it has hordes of Third-World immigrants from its former empire, who are likely to wipe out every aspect of Britishness within a couple of generations.


As an American, I know that a republic can't be an empire, and vice-versa. I know that having such an empire, no matter what you call it, benefits the average American not one bit, and only benefits that 1% the left whines about even as it calls for more and more government to serve it. And it really doesn't help the people we colonize much, though you can always find somebody who'd better off as a result. Most of the people are a lot worse off.

The latest on that is Joe Biden's pronouncement that the whole world has to fall on its knees in support of "gay rights," however we're defining it this week, or, I guess, fear that draft-dodger Joe will send troops to Africa and and Russia and who knows where else to by God establish gay rights. Info on this latest idiocy of Joe at Steve Sailer's blog HERE.

To paraphrase Bismarck, hardly a pacifist himself, I assert that Gay Marriage in Uganda isn't worth the bones of one Pennsylvanian rifleman.

Let's stop this empire nonsense and try the republic thing again.


Three And A Half Funerals
by L. Neil Smith
lneil@netzero.com


Attribute to L. Neil Smith's The Libertarian Enterprise

We've all seen it, dozens, perhaps even hundreds of times. A young man or woman, a young son or daughter, a young husband or wife, comes back from some unnecessary, idiotic war in "Bumf*ck, Egypt"—in a box.

Drums roll, bugles play, bagpipes flare. Maybe rifles in a row are fired. Meaningless platitudes are uttered. Attempting valiantly to hold back her tears, the widow in her Sunday church clothes, hardly more than a girl herself, accepts the flag from her husband's casket, now folded into a neat triangle. Beside her, a preschooler will grow up hardly remembering Daddy. The baby in her arms will never know its father.

The chaplain, minister, priest, or rabbi, and everybody else, the fallen soldier's parents, his commanding officer, his comrades-in-arms will all refer to him as a hero at one time or another on this day. So will some of the media. They won't tell you he was killed, smashing into a family's home halfway around the world, in search of weapons to confiscate.

Meanwhile, a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away, an Imperial Stormtrooper is laid to rest, the one member of his squad killed in an otherwise unremarkable act of murdering Uncle Owen Lars and his wife Aunt Beru. Owen got a shot off before he died; the Stormtrooper's white plastic armor didn't protect him. Now he'll be called a hero too, a valorous and faithful servant of the Empire. His family will take some small comfort from that, and never dream that he deserved to die.

Skip ahead of our own time an unknown number of years. Another young American soldier is being buried while family and friends watch, having been killed by an Improvised Explosive Device while attempting to suppress "insurgents"—in Ohio. He was trying to keep them from shooting the bulldozer drivers demolishing suburban neighborhoods, clearing the land for a "return to nature" under a United Nations mandate.

His older brother was killed the year before, his body armor no match for a civilian .375 Holland and Holland in a nation that, as Isoroku Yamamoto once warned, hides a rifleman behind every blade of grass

It's rumored that Washington is preparing to use neutron bombs to finish the job of depopulating "flyover country", the suburbs, and small towns, leaving all non-living assets intact. It's important to those presently collecting millions of cars to ship Mexico, where they will be sold to buyers in Europe, Africa, and Asia, or broken up for parts. Avoiding radiation is vital, too, if "reclaimed" land is to be given, in lieu of payment, to China and America's other creditors. Also, many powerful and wealthy politicians are looking forward to establishing "dachas" or private estates in the countryside, where they will reside in luxury, served by attractive kidnapped teenage slaves.

What these events have in common, of course, is that they are the funerals of young military people being killed while believing they are doing needful and heroic deeds. That's what their friends and families believe as well. That's the way it's presented in the state- controlled media, just like the funerals of many a Nazi or Soviet Army soldier.

To anyone who knows how to look, what's heartbreakingly obvious—and more painful to me than I can possibly express—is that we, the United States of America, have, by fits and starts, become the very evil that we have always believed we were fighting. Our young soldiers are invaders, villains, no matter how they look or sound, not heroes or liberators, as they claim—or it is claimed for them. By any objective standard, they are being killed by people trying to protect their property, their rights, and the way that they choose to live their lives, no matter how repulsive and abhorrent that may seem to us.

I'm old enough to have seen how Japanese soldiers were portrayed in propagandistic World War II media, with goofy buck teeth and Coke bottle glasses. I understand that now, individuals like you and me, respectable members of the American Productive Class, people who read actual books, Constitutionalists, libertarians, third party voters, hard money advocates, gun owners, Ron Paul supporters, religious folks, are being caricatured the same way, dehumanized, and labeled "terrorists", so it will be easier for young, heavily-indoctrinated, maybe even drugged Homeland Security, TSA, and UN troops to pull the trigger.

"We has met the enemy," said Pogo Possum during the Vietnam War, "and they is us." To a military brat like me, born in the shadow of World War II, Cub Scout, Boy Scout, Eagle Scout, and, I suppose, a patriot (how I wish I had read Smedley Butler's War Is A Racket in junior high school), it means I have lived my whole life in a fog of lies.

It's somewhat similar to the shock we all experienced as young Objectivists when we realized that private capitalism and corporate big business are not expressions of the same thing, but, in fact, polar opposites, as different as day and night, as different as freedom and slavery. Only the present shock of belatedly seeing the America we loved as a worldwide oppressor, is a hundred times worse; I don't know whether civilization—or humanity itself—can survive it.

You can complain about the damage done by Barack Obama, George W. Bush, Bill Clinton, Jimmy Carter, George H.W. Bush, Richard Nixon, Lyndon Johnson, Franklin D. Roosevelt, Woodrow Wilson, or Abraham Lincoln. To a great extent, the America we loved was dealt a mortal blow in 1788, when the Constitution, and a strong central government, were imposed on us. That's largely what my novel The Probability Broach is about. Now Barack Obama, Eric Holder, and their cronies dream of ruling an America they have demolished and re-made to their specifications.

You and I have no place in that world.

If it's up to them, we're headed for the landfill.
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Quibcag: I don't know where the girl came from in the first one.  In the second, we have the girls of Girls und Panzer (ガールズ&パンツァーGāruzu ando Pantsā)

1 comment:

  1. "so it will be easier for young, heavily-indoctrinated, maybe even drugged Homeland Security, TSA, and UN troops to pull the trigger."

    The US hostile elite has the obvious problem that the great bulk of US combat-capable recruits come from the same 'flyover' population they want to suppress. Automated warfare is a partial solution. And extermination is a lot easier than occupation. If they could bring in combat-capable immigrants that could work too, but not much sign of that so far. Any single immigrant group capable of being used to suppress the red-state population would equally threaten the elites, who have most of the money and the most valuable land. The chosen tactic seems to be to slowly degrade flyover country by dumping clusters of immigrants there as 'refugees', encouraging Mexican immigration, etc. Not much like Red Dawn (the real one - just watched it again last night) but probably more effective.

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