*** - Like Rod Sterling in his "Twilight Zone" episodes we are all characters on an imaginary plane in an immobile time, and we need to wake-up from our dream or diminished memory in order to prevent our being swept into the next Obama Cesspool. The experience of suffering you feel now is small by comparison with what is ahead: IN THE TWILIGHT ZONE.
Preamble: YEAR: 2015 - At a major hub in Orlando, or Milwaukee, Chicago...a stream of haggard passengers are moving down an infinitely long corridor through various gates to as assembly point where 3-727's are lined up end to end. The tired walkers are all CONSERVATIVES, felons of the State of Obama, about to board a transfer vehicle that will end their dreams in a world they are all about to leave behind...
Little did we know that our whole lives lay inside our suitcases. All the things we carried on board or passed through TSA (Transportation Security Administration) were the sentient beings of what little futures we had left. All our written order said was to report to a specific gate, go through a checkpoint or two, be ascertained of our picture i.d., (smile back when smiled at) and board the jet for ascension to a select destination.
No one of course realized that step by step through the terminal, each one hoping to achieve what should have been a predictable destination, we were in fact (unbeknown) the recipients of not ordinarily received 'attentions' by courteous, pious, and deliberate TSA security. They were there to see that everyone was boarded correctly on any of 3 flights whose final destination and layover, if any, wasn't clear. There wasn't a carrier screen, a snack bar, an advertisement, a newspaper or a water fountain available down the long oblique hallway, and the lower half of the windows were opaque along the entire concourse. The horizontal escalator wasn't functioning.
However there were dozens of uniformed security wearing mid-calf grey liners, equally female and male, examining the travelers' color-coded flight tickets and ascertaining the correct boarding passes. A brace of sparrows were being chased by one man with a long mosquito-netting rake. It was a goose egg romp; a symbolic irony to our being here. The full-blazed, gold-framed portrait of the president at fourteen feet in length looked down upon the weary travelers. The cranium imposing; the colossal smile a little too much affaire d'honneur.
We didn't know it although some limply suspected that we had been 'living the dream' to our own understanding, liberal or conservative, under the aegis of President Barack Obama in his second term. Singularly you and I could slide forward or backward through inward thoughts (the half-dipped eyelids) undetected by the TSA Thought-Police. Yet moving along like so many different breeds of inner frustration, self-exposed and analyzed by some watching from cameras mounted above, or at floor-level, we were conscious of our thoughts and most of these were impossible to totally hide. How could we trust in the generosity of the Man whose portrait watched even them?
But outwardly when a dictator suppresses the people, violence can result -- even if one is afraid, and tries not to show it during the second term of the president. It is all part of the scheme of impositions and checks from the top down, always executed with great political earnestness by the people in charge with access to 24/7 cable news channels, the Presidential Networks, and internet sites that update their content at will. The community listened in waves of applause since his re-election. There were only advocates and defenders of the propaganda left now (which is an offensive word, if spoken publically). The rhythm of the will of one Man had sprouted from a seed into a magnificent over-reaching entity, I thought to myself as I tried to walk as quietly as an aeronaut.
I who once compared myself to others have been suppressed by domestic law. Others like me were told that was laziness, escape, and inefficiency in a new society that cut off what segments of the past were worthless: the family, the cultural inheritance, the religious traditions, the products of two thousand years of dreams made evil, according to the domestic law. There must be a way of living so that one must not dream at all, therefore complete attention may be given to the sources of knowledge that end ambition, which is the worst frustration of common men, whom earned their right to a subsistent allowance from the State of the United Man.
This utility of purpose discounted dreams and discomfort; it killed the distorted classes and their envy of 5,000 years, we are told constantly by the radio wardens and other Obama media anchors.
To harbor thoughts opposed to the domestic law is to breed violence. Yet even my wet sneakers irritated the tension of their silence. The TSA were watching us avoid their eyes: The beautiful and pious faces of the TSA have deceived thousands to board these flights of conservative destruction...yet they all have a mechanical attention 'to the details'.
I can hear what's in their minds. "You are cruel." I won't suppress. "You are problems." I won't escape. They study me and my learning is detectable. "You were egotists, self-centered." I see as fragments their bloated faces: "This is good, this is bad..." I watch the clarity of their perception. It is all a fog to them. They are all knots on a string of tribal exclusiveness called Obama acceptance. It is the created product of refinement Barack Hussein Obama has energized; a tricky bit of luck and skill by him.
So many little minds looking without effort, doing a day job. How many flights to nowhere have they executed? I wonder.
I who once compared myself to others have been suppressed by domestic law. Comparison, suppression, control in an orderly process have shaped all public opinion, and statements contrary to mainstream news (whether the care of the content is true or not) is a felony and serious crime. The year is 2015, in the way things are.
When I compare myself with you non-conservative -who are much more than I am- that is offered as evidence that I am a violent person during the second term of the president. Society tells me to conform and reduces my level of political agitation...but know therefore that thy Lord thy God keeps covenant with them that love him and his commandments...so I neither fall asleep nor work in a mechanical way as they would like. For if I do this, or don't do that, I will slip beneath betrayal; either step anyway is certain punishment by either myself or them. Their patterned society is a concoction to accept their values which in my mind are dull, valueless, and without action. They want me to be a dull instrument, to do just what they say. I cannot be that particular monkey, nor can the others ahead and behind me on the concourse be the monkey.
That is why the parked jet engines are tuning and warming up, just outside these windows...which no one can see through from the inside.
We who were brought to this point of escape by a widespread warrantless wiretapping network are "caught in a dragnet of non-ordinary Americans". The legalized government eavesdropping program and a fully expanded law to arrest and detain without cause, without charges, without representation, those citizens "who are a detriment to society" (Sections 1031-1036: placed in any of 50 detention camps under FEMA and Homeland Security guardianship) are the unbridled powers which invariably create an unequal society.
This ruse of the nation happened so benignly for most of us. Most were accepting of what was going on in the whirlpools of politics. The final months leading up to November 2012 was what over half of the voters wanted: the external drama of life - no one knew it would determine attitudes, situations, and circumstances for decades to come. So there was no organized protest; no one was singled out for gratuitous punishment. Some of us felt the cosmic threat, but most felt the 2012 Election was pure political gesture: anger, hope, laughter, passion, despair, bullying, and enthusiasm. So much more smoldering under the surface, and we, with our stunned consciousness, were unable to believe what had happened. Then he achieved the emotional tone of our life, and it was he who determined and judged us according to our beliefs. The resistance was condemned by orders of domination. Some of us hid; most of us were found.
Faithless loving and bitter want conditioned our fear to accept the darkness of a surface mind; we'd become a people who for the most part never wanted to struggle to examine the deeper content; therefore "the mind of both sides of the Constitution" gave up watching, listening, and questioning. The dictator made it a worthless document; it stood as a barrier between us. It was made insignificant by the Supreme Court last year.
The 'complete attention' that paralyzed all opposition before the election was Obama's communicated slogan: "Let's change all that!"
It worked so smoothly for him in his non-stop delivery in 200 cities that when the giant web of ACORN and their biggest backer, the SEIU, received millions of dollars from the Bauman Family Foundation, George Soros' Open Society Institute, JP Morgan Chase Foundation, Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation, The Charles Stewart Mott Foundation, and at least 5,000 other money-transferring affiliates to resurrect Project Vote, a new slogan emerged sub-consciously in our psyche: (the purely rhetorical) "Can Man Change?"
Can Man Change? Can Woman Change? Can Society Change?
A fragmented mind lacks intelligence. Obama shattered the whole idea: a nation unaccountable to reason can be shuttered like a bedroom, and contained in its own sorrows. No sounds emitted from within; a people sleeping within the walls where no knocking is heard. The inevitable darkness of souls even 'the Man' himself can't change or alter.
I handed my boarding pass to the bright-smiling TSA airline attendant with 70 others and we boarded a jet.
(I saw the recruitment sign above the final check-in desk. It said: "FIND THE JOB THAT IS RIGHT FOR YOU." In the tunneled-passageway to the jet were several smiling TSAs. Stepping across the threshold of the 727 I saw the computerized pilot and the robot steward each of these jets carried. Behind me in the passageway over a dozen TSA security blocked our retreat and filled the space behind the boarding passengers. They moved as one with a nameless, natural indifference. "Please take your seats," the robot steward encouraged all the weary, including myself. "You may leave your walk-on cases next to you in the many open seats available." I moved into place and the engines' hum seemed boundless as a fog. There were several travel cases, I noticed, already on-board. Perhaps these were the leavings from a previous, over-night flight.)
*** For we in the opposition knew HE had relieved any fear of change; knew he had been nursed and made plentiful; and knew quietly without denial that HE leaned unimaginably guidant over us, perhaps for the balance of our lives.
If it all wasn't so possible, I'd say you have a great script here for a TV movie.
I feel like I was allowed to share your nightmare. Thanks!
Our nightmare in the future. And it's part of a larger script. (If they let me write it...)
One has to wonder if the Left gets their political strategies from old science fiction B-movies.
This one could be entitled, It Came From Another (blank)
Fill in the blank:
d. All of the above
...or, perhaps we could borrow from the TV sitcom
Third Rock from the Sun and call it, The Big Giant Head!
Jeff: Have you ever seen so many 'freaky extraterrestrials' in one place (DC) at one time (today)?
Sometimes I feel like I'm the only one that can see them!