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Domestically, we shall see shackles placed upon the First Amendment, aimed particularly towards talk radio, but possibly also bloggers, seeking to silence the voices of political conservatism and Classical Liberalism. This will be called “Fairness”.

We shall see thorough subversion of the Second Amendment, the failure of each assault upon this Constitutional right to reduce violent crime used as justification for further assault. This will be called “Progress”.

We shall see widespread increases in taxation, crippling our industries and increasing unemployment, but little will be said of them by major media outlets. What we shall instead hear of, loud and clear, will be the various tax-credit schemes put into place, and how these will benefit us. The true result of this will never be spoken of: That our money is no longer our money, it is the State’s, which will grant us the privilege of borrowing an amount after we have answered to them. Taxed according to our ability to produce, credited according to our ability to grovel, this will be called “Justice”.

The blame for all ills will be shamelessly, self-righteously redirected upon the Bush administration and political conservatives in general, as was the case with the late economic crisis, which was an innevitable product of the Marxist policies (and the corruption they gave rise to) born of the Carter administration.

In foreign affairs, the best interests of our citizenry shall take a back seat to the mandates of the unelected bureaucrats of the United Nations.

The Far East will be at the mercy of China and their frothing puppet, North Korea. This may fair poorly for our ally, Taiwan.

In the Middle East, Afghanistan will likely, short of someone such as Gen. Patraeus being given a free hand over operations, be transformed from a difficult yet tenable battleground into the stagnant quagmire the mainstream media has for so long attempted to portray it as.

Israel will no longer be able to afford the risk of placing any trust in their sole military ally to assist them with either pen or sword, as it is now administrated by a man who spent twenty years quietly attending the anti-Semitic tirades of a mad preacher, a man who has shown nothing but sympathy for some of their most pernicious enemies. They will strike to destroy Iran’s nuclear ambitions, and if any neighbor is seen mobilizing for invasion, they may answer with the first atomic weapons fired in anger since World War II. If they are to survive, if they do not wish to see their women and children at the mercy of those who have none, they will have little other choice.

Iraq, now all but won, may see a sudden and dramatic increase in cassualties with the result of our new Commander in Chief surrendering all and pulling our forces out as quickly as possible. Alternatively, we may see a period of unexpected peace, lulling our aforementioned commander into withdrawing our fighting men en masse. This will be followed by absolute bedlam, as the Iranian-backed jihadis commit to a renewed and vigorous effort to make the people of Iraq pay for their audacity and apostasy in believing they could live by any law other than a tyrant’s will or an Imam’s decrees.

If Iraq does fall, Iran, possibly even Russia, will invade under the auspice of establishing peace, placing puppets into the seats of power and slaughtering all who oppose them. No serious move will be made on our part to prevent this, and our new-found allies will be left to the wolves.

The long held dream of Middle-East oil state autocrats and theocrats, that of shutting off all oil supplies to the West, shall become attainable. America, though we possess enough crude to last for the next two centuries will, by having left these resources untapped due to pressure from environmentalist lobbies and the obstinacy of the political left, be forced to scramble for self-sufficiency as our economy approaches the brink of total collapse.

Europe, completely dependent upon foreign oil and stripped of our protection, will have but two choices: kowtow to Russia, or beggar themselves to Iran. Numerous European states may in desperation turn to seizing their neighbor’s supplies and resources, if only to buy themselves a little time. Warfare unlike any seen since World War II will tear the European Union to pieces, and leave even the victors in dire straights.

There will be no Marshall Plan this time, and the wolves will be waiting with promises of Peace, and Order.

…as well as our allies the Iraqis, Afghanis, Georgians, and others:

We are all about to embark on what I believe will be an extremely painful historic lesson.

So pay attention.

Sincerely,

Eric N. Squires

Bill is a sick man. A sick, sick man.

See:

Gypsy Widow trailer #3

Do pardon Myspace’s bizarro video compression.

When will this be over? When will this all end? I kept thinking, until, finally, it was! We all did our usual thing, the post-meeting extra cup of coffee, a donut or two, catch up on memos we didn’t receive and general office chit-chat. (Except that asshole Bob, always too good to care what anyone else thinks.) I got an eyeful of that one new secretary, Jane. As much as I could with her sitting next to me, anyway. Brad said he’d ask her along after but he didn’t. Forgot, he said, but I know he “forgot” on purpose, just as he likes to “forget” to do his fucking job sometimes though they pay him so well for it. Good luck ever getting him to do a friend a favor. All those girls are the same, anyhow, they only drink together so they can mutual reinforce each other’s sluttish behavior with the blue-collar losers and so-called artists they meet at clubs.

Brad and I knocked off to make happy hour at our usual place, and soon I found out why he was so quick to “forget”. He’s dating a fucking stripper! That gloating bastard was grinning ear to ear. “We’d all had quite a few, you know, and it was our last stop for the night. Hugh dared to go and talk to this one girl, real tall and leggy, over at the bar. Nooo way did he think I’d really do it, though! You know I’ve always had my luck with the ladies, but it was like magic, this time. I strolled up beside her, right, the model of affluent confidence, and when she turned to me, I gave her my best smile, and said to her, straight up, ‘Don’t worry, honey, I can afford you.’ Man, it was fucking smooth. Fortune favors the brave, and I tell you lady luck smiled on me that night. It’s nothing serious, of course, I mean I can’t be bringing a fucking girl like that home, those bitches are all crazy, but man, let me tell you some of the shit this girl will do in bed…”

By the time he was done bragging about his latest conquest, I was drunk, tired, and feeling fatter than ever. Brad took off saying he was supposed to pick up his new “fuck toy” when her shift ended. I stayed, had one more, then climbed into my car and came home. After I got out, I patted Beemer affectionately above her hood ornament as always, but then I paused, I don’t know why. My garage was clean and quiet, everything was quiet. Just the ticking of a cooling Bavarian engine. For a second I got the urge to just lay down on the smooth, cool concrete and look at things, but it passed and I came inside instead. Now I’m sitting here, and I feel like I’m missing out. Like… there’s things out there happening right now. Maybe what I need is a wife, or like what Brad has. Better, I’d put her through school, get her out of dancing, make her grateful to me, or I could get one of those mail-order brides, a nice Russian girl from Siberia. I’d seem like a prince to her. Every thing’s for sale these days, and why shouldn’t it be? I work hard for my money, don’t I?

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From The Conet Numbers Project, being a collection of such esoteric government transmissions.