Fortress America

[indigobusiness]

The day is almost upon us when there will be those who live within the castle walls, and those who live without.

Which will you be?

[OldLeftieLawyer]

1. I'll be in the second-floor apartment around the corner

Watching the revolution, and cheering on my side.

[ayeshahaqqiqa]

2. In the woods

near the caves, growing my own food, helping my neighbors, being as independent as I can from the grid.

[MuseRider]

4. No caves here

but we are getting off the grid when we build soon. Off the grid, out in the country with good neighbors, as self reliant as possible and ready for anything including welcoming like minded refugees.

[FlatJack]

7. dead

I'll be dead as I throw myself at the feet of the juggeranaut with a defiant middle finger. Perhaps you'll read about some wacko in the papers who barracaded himself in somewhere lobbing pumpkins at police.

[indigobusiness]

17. Lobbing pumpkins...I like that imagery

Welcome to DU. Good sense of humor helps.

[indigobusiness]

8. I like the sound of that.

I'm with you and MuseRider in spirit. But probably closer to FlatJack, in reality.

[Worst Username Ever]

3. probably drunk in a ditch somewhere n/t

[Mojambo]

5. Your thread reminds me of an old Phil Ochs song.

Ringing of Revolution

In a building of gold, with riches untold,
lived the families on which the country was founded.
And the merchants of style, with their red velvet smiles,
were there, for they also were hounded.
And the soft middle class crowded in to the last,
for the building was fully surrounded.
And the noise outside was the ringing of revolution.

Sadly they stared and sank in their chairs
and searched for a comforting notion.
And the rich silver walls looked ready to fall
As they shook in doubtful devotion.
The ice cubes would clink as they freshened their drinks,
wet their minds in bitter emotion.
And they talked about the ringing of revolution.

We were hardly aware of the hardships they beared,
for our time was taken with treasure.
Oh, life was a game, and work was a shame,
And pain was prevented by pleasure.
The world, cold and grey, was so far away
In the distance only money could measure.
But their thoughts were broken by the ringing of revolution.

The clouds filled the room in darkening doom
as the crooked smoke rings were rising.
How long will it take, how can we escape
Someone asks, but no one's advising.
And the quivering floor responds to the roar,
In a shake no longer surprising.
As closer and closer comes the ringing of revolution.

Softly they moan, please leave us alone
As back and forth they are pacing.
And they cover their ears and try not to hear
WIth pillows of silk they're embracing.
And the crackling crowd is laughing out loud,
peeking in at the target they're chasing.
Now trembling inside the ringing of revolution.

With compromise sway we give in half way
When we saw that rebellion was growing.
Now everything's lost as they kneel by the cross
Where the blood of christ is still flowing.
To late for their sorrow they've reached their tomorrow
and reaped the seed they were sowing.
Now harvested by the ringing of revolution.

In tattered tuxedos they faced the new heroes
and crawled about in confusion.
And they sheepishly grinned for their memoroes were dim
of the decades of dark execution.
Hollow hands were raised; they stood there amazed
in the shattering of their illusions.
As the windows were smashed by the ringing of revolution.

Down on our knees we're begging you please,
We're sorry for the way you were driven.
There's no need to taunt just take what you want,
and we'll make amends, if we're living.
But away from the grounds the flames told the town
that only the dead are forgiven.
As they crumbled inside the ringing of revolution.

[indigobusiness]

12. Phil Ochs, and his ilk, opened a window for us...just a crack...

The sixties pried it wide enough to allow us to just squeeze through.

While we enjoyed the promise of our fine achievement, and slapped each other on the back in celebration, it was slammed shut again by the staus quo.

[Mojambo]

14. But it can be opened again.

Perhaps even swung open.

We possess tools today that the revolutinaries in the 60's could never have imagined. The Internet alone provides for mind boggling capability to mount protests and spread information.

Sadly, the one component we lack is the only one necessary for a successful popular movement, passion.

[indigobusiness]

16. The heart to make it real

is a dream that never ceases, for me.

[AG78]

6. I'm with the Humans

I will not bow down to the Corporate Gods.

[hobbit709]

9. Storming the castle

with torches and pitchforks

[BillZBubb]

10. I'll be in a VAN DOWN BY THE RIVER!

I suppose by default I'm stuck inside the castle walls. I'm not ready to emigrate just yet.

[AnIndependentTexan]

11. is it still to late to move to canadia? Just kidding!

[UNIXcock]

13. Hell, my compound is a fortress ...

... you don't believe me :evilgrin:

[n2mark]

15. No hiding

in the barren desert.

[indigobusiness]

18. Read this : Hung Over in the End Times

If liberal society is to survive the rise of the Godwacks, we need to start by calling them what they are

November 11, 2004



By Joe Bageant

Since George Bush’s reelection, the Christian nut-jobs have mounted an assault on my block. In the five years I've lived in this neighborhood I've never had so much as one Jehovah’s Witness knock at the door. But last Saturday morning my neighbor Tinka-the-wool-weaver called to warn of approaching Bible thumpers working the doorbells on my side of the street. Sure enough, out the window were two women in long skirts with bad Bible hairdos headed my way. “Incoming Jesus freaks at nine o’clock high!” I yelled to my wife. We jumped back into bed and let ‘em pound on the door and drop tracts in the mailbox while Barb read the Washington Post and I caught another twenty zees. That, we thought, was the end of it. But next day while walking my dog Bingo—a black piss-hound of dubious origin—a white van cruised alongside us slowly, as if confused about directions. I asked if I could help, and BAM! I should have known better. It was evangelist sucker bait. The Christian church logo on the driver's baseball cap (any time you see a cross, flames and a sword in a logo, run) told me I’d stepped into a fundamentalist ambush. The driver had one of those delirious smiles only a fundie can muster, and that glint of mad zeal that gives me the heebie jeebies. I yanked Bingo away from a good piss and we wheeled off. “Jesus wants you to have a nice day,” I heard over my shoulder, thinking to myself, “Then why inna hell don’t you make like Jesus and let me have one.” Somehow I suspect we’ve not seen the last of these god-crazed bastards and that Bingo and I will have to start taking our walks in the alleys instead of the streets. And maybe move the weekend cocktail hour up to 3 PM just to spite the fundies.

snip

http://www.yuricareport.com/Dominionism/HungOverInTheEndTimes.html