Few things
are more startling when expecting one thing and being given another.
Across the street from the house I mostly grew up in, there was a little summer cottage owned by a lady who lived up in Argo. Her husband had died and left her a few dollars and she bought the house and property, a two bedroom cottage with a fireplace and a window air conditioner. Their name was Profit, she lived with her two almost-adult sons.
it was a bit odd, to have people come spend their summer vacations where we lived every day. It didn’t seem- somehow right. But still, they were nice people. So much so that we went and visited them at their “Winter” home, and she made hamburgers.
Now, I loves me a hamburger. I love them fried, grilled, broiled, I love them on seeded buns with cheese or without and with condiments or by themselves. So having homemade burgers at the Profits was an adventure to which I had aspired for a couple weeks. And yes, I was drooling when she brought them to the table.
I took one off the platter and put it on the bun, and put on a generous squirt of Ketchup, and we said grace. And then I took a big bite.
And almost threw up.
it wasn’t that it was bad; in fact, in retrospect, I’d probably LOVE to have one now, because of the way it was made. See, it was made like meatloaf.
I love Meatloaf. I love a meatloaf sammich, both hot and cold. And had I been expecting a meatloaf sammich, I probably would not have had so much difficulty eating that one. But i did. It took me a little longer, but I choked it down and never said a word.
See, I was expecting a hamburger. I had my mouth all ready for it. I was expecting a certain flavor, and when that meatloaf flavor hit my tongue it was like being offered sex with Zooey Deschanel and instead Maxine Waters shows up and giives me a handjob wearing a pair of scratchy burned charred oven mitts.
The left has won a lot ofbattles lately, big and small, and they are grinning like fools, believing themselves superior in every way.
It is our job to make sure they taste the meatloaf. It is our job to make them not get what they expect. And if you are not thinking about this every day, you are not doing your job.
Find a bunch of sick illegals and take them to a hospital, and do so as often as possible so the system becomes overloaded. Make your local burocracy a living hell to the people who work there. Don’t let a moment of your day go by without thinking of a way to make them taste the sourness and hollowness of their victories. And remember it isn’t you you’re fighting for, it’s for the generations yet to come who have not experienced the freedom you have experienced, a lot of which, as B says, is gone already.
Roll up your sleeves. Let’s get it back. If we’re not smart enough to annoy them into capitulating, we don’t deserve the freedom.
A good re-reading of Alinsky’s ‘Rules For Radicals’ is in order…
Use their BS against them.
That’s what they did in 2008.
Now that the Progs are The Man, they sure don’t like it when they are the target of their own methods.
TBG
Great thinking, as per usual….
This phenomenon is the entire reason I hate the Styx song “Rockin’ the Paradise”.
Back when “Paradise Theater” was their latest album I really liked the song from it, “The Best of Times”. Having no money for 45 RPM records, I spent an evening sitting by my stereo with a tape ready to record the song should it come on.
So there I am, waiting, and then I hear the piano lead and Dennis DeYoung singing, “The headlines read, these are the…” and the lyrics don’t sound quite right, but WTF there are always a couple different versions of songs floating around radio stations anyway, and…
–“ROCKIN’ THE PARADISE! ROCKIN’ THE PARADISE TO NIGHHHHT! ROCKIN’–”
WTF??? WTFF???
…shut off the cassette deck, re-cued it, and never heard “Best of Times” played on the radio again for the rest of the summer. I eventually managed to get money and a ride to the mall in order to buy the 45, but I never forgave them for tricking me like that.
(“Eeew! You like STYX?” I was 12. C’mon.)
Campaigning for a guy out here named David Validao for congress.
Good kid, CCW, Life Member, smoked the primary, is/was a good Assemblyman in Sacto.
Workin’ hard here Boss.
“Find a bunch of sick illegals and take them to a hospital, and do so as often as possible so the system becomes overloaded. Make your local burocracy a living hell to the people who work there. Don’t let a moment of your day go by without thinking of a way to make them taste the sourness and hollowness of their victories.”
Honestly, I don’t see this accomplishing a thing. The people that work int he bureaucracy won’t care, they’ll handle the cases at the same speed as always, and if that means you sit in the ER for three days waiting to have a broken arm looked at, well, that’s what happens. It just proves we need more staff, to be paid for by taxpayers of course. Overloading a bureaucracy just gives them an excuse to hire more bureaucrats.
I understand your point, but you’re thinking like a person who prides himself on being a productive member of society, with a useful skillset that you earned thru years of effort. Bureaucrats are leeches, they get high-paying jobs simply by being in the same job for decades without ever having an original thought or doing one iota more work than absolutely required. As long as the correct boxes are checked they’re next in line for promotion.
Yeah, I’ve worked with entirely too many such people.
Mark: You’ve missed the point.
“but you’re thinking like a person who prides himself on being a productive member of society”
No. I’m thinking like someone who is anxious to effect change without bloody revolution. I don’t want to inconvenience the morons, I want to drive them insane.