Hunting season

Millions of Americans are about to go feral

2nd September 2010


The mind tries to scratch itself, as if little bugs were running around inside your head, trying forever to try to make the numbers add up, and they don’t. They won’t. Perhaps they never will.

Suddenly, things are gone. You didn’t plan it that way. They’re just gone, lost to attrition, paring down, disappeared by the friction of life. Where did that book go? That ring? That photo?

Only now it’s much more serious. Where did that house go? That job? That friend? That wife!?

I remember being young and in the Navy; endless hours of boring repetition provided ample time to reflect on previous moments I thought were bad and boring, which suddenly seemed pretty good upon comparison with what I endured on a ship. Now again, that memory is amped up to the present, and times we remembered as problematic or unpleasant are starting to look pretty good to us now.

If a worse possibly augury for the future exists, I don’t know what it is. We middle class refugees, who always looked with scorn upon those unlucky souls scrambling through dumpsters as a way to stay alive, are now about to join them.

We’re in the big slide, hunting season is upon us, and millions of Americans are about to go feral.

People who’ve lost their jobs and homes scramble to feed the mouths of their children, mostly by lining up at one government trough or another. When those spigots get turned off, things will get ugly. You won’t have any friends, because they’ll be too busy scavenging for themselves. Whatever family unit you have will soon give way to feelings of being a prisoner in the penitentiary of your choosing, and ordered by the government not to say anything about what you’re doing.

Starting next year if not before, there simply will not be enough food, and the Prevent Starvation programs will be implemented. They will not work, and the food they dispense will be poison.

What will you do to feed your family? Absolutely anything. Do you know how rough the streets actually are? It’s hard to trust someone who’s always trying to sell you something, isn’t it?

What crystallized our ominous future for me was an innocuous recent story out of Parsippany, New Jersey, where in a quiet middle class neighborhood, people were beginning to live without electricity or running water in their own fairly opulent homes because they simply could no longer pay their utility bills.

Add this minor shocking revelation to the list of other indications that American society is rapidly distintegrating.

For going on three years in California, thousands of people have been living in their cars and campers in a church parking lot in the LA suburb of Ontario. The police occasionally ride in and shake things up, but they haven’t been able to disperse America’s new class of homeless — homeowners who can no longer make their mortgage payments and have abandoned their homes.

In Las Vegas, you can’t park your car on the street and expect it to have any gas in it come morning.

In Florida and Illinois and many other states, some people take a different tack. Having fallen behind on their mortgage payments and gotten foreclosure eviction notices from their lenders, they simply ignore the notifications and continue to live in their homes rent-free. Because the banks can’t deal with the astonishing glut of foreclosures now taking place, it usually takes a couple of years before the impoverished homeowners are finally forced to vacate.

But for far too many, the only future that matters is the next week. It has been frequently said that most Americans live paycheck to paycheck. The situation in America has devolved, now that the paychecks are gone for so many, into people living from miracle to miracle, but very soon, even those will disappear beneath the millions depending on miracles that will never come.

This is when the suicides will skyrocket, when alliances will crumble, when families will practice tough love with folks on the periphery of their existences, and fathers — as fathers have done down through history as they watch the world run over them — will wail to the skies and to whoever’s up there, asking the eternal question to anyone who will listen — why have you taken away all the things I love?!

When the new American hunting season gets going, gangs will rule the cities — little Communist systems based on crime profits, just like the real world — and no one who doesn’t own a gun will have any peace of mind.

Funny that the new hunting season will be based on the cities rather than the country, where it will be considerably safer providing you can defend yourself adequately. People in the country tend to be more in need of quality neighbors, and all you have to do is be one to fit in. People in the city are trying to get somewhere, almost certainly an illusory trip guaranteed only to get you heartaches with the hardware, as you ascend to the higher levels of vaporous rhetoric. The good advice is the simple stuff, like do unto others.

Sometimes, because we’re so locked into our own impending demise, we cast aside those who aren’t on our wavelength, or said something or done something that jangled our nerves, we dismiss them as not concomitant with our own path.

Somewhere in the past I learned that’s a big mistake — friendships aren’t built on technical expertise, they’re built on character. Those who pursue the real story which is always concealed beneath the Hebrew hype pay the price, or rather don’t pay the price, because they are excluded from mainstream opinion by the mindlock that continues to trap us in its illusions.

We are deluged with a continuous narrative foisted on us from all angles by the very people who are committing these crimes that are plundering the world.

The news reports contain detailed explanations with names and dates but never trace the source of the poison to the very forces that own the company they’re working for, and the story gets lost in the back stairwell where the boss explains about the things you can never say in print, and you know who is at the top of that list. Right about here, decent reporters quit. The rest stay on and take the mindlock’s paycheck.

Same with violence, which is the paramount training course for hunting season.

We trained our boys to rape Iraqi families, and a fair number of them came home and killed themselves. This is what we have taught our children in America. Sure, you can blame it all on Israel and Jewish influence and that would be true, but we let them do it to us because we’re so stupid and unconnected.

Just imagine how efficient they’ll be in “restoring order” once the great collapse occurs and “hunting season” really gets underway.

John Kaminski is a writer who lives on the Gulf Coast of Florida, with no plan except to scrape together enough money to get out of there and find a safer place to live

Contributions desperately needed, mail to:
250 N. McCall Rd.
#2, Englewood
FL 34223.

If this is my last essay, then thanks for all the support.

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