In past years, I have made time in a very busy schedule, to ride my trail horse. I took the forgotten roads in the Upper Peninsula that border marshlands, pastures and creeks in the woods so deep, even the mosquitoes get lost. My mount was a 12 year old Appaloosa named Cheyenne. A gentle mare, she loved to tug at your vest with a never ending need for treats along the path.

Some time back on a great ride, Cheyenne began to slow abruptly and then stopped. She didn’t move. I knew she saw something that I hadn’t and I waited while scanning the trail ahead. I suspected a coyote or a wolf, but did not see anything. After a minute or two, she slowly began, again looking for a treat. I always rode with a sidearm and a shotgun. I didn’t necessarily expect poachers, but knew other critters were just beyond sight, some more dangerous than others. Such rides, like life itself, were a strange mixture of supreme pleasure and a cautious sense of being alert for unknown and unwanted contact with hidden entities that were looking to create a major problem.

My mind had wondered off into that almost dream-like state where the reality of who you are, and what you are doing, blends with the day to day scenes of an America at the crossroads of her historic destiny. An America caught between the honor and promise of her past, and the evil dread of her impending future. This is the formula for a nightmare for sure, whether you are awake or asleep.

Perhaps because of my peace officer past life and my watchman on the ramparts present, this strange mixture of idyllic setting and dark reality brought an odd, yet compelling “screenplay” to mind during those few hours of serenity and solitude in a pristine, timeless location.

You’ll forgive my rather corny and predictable plot, but it seemed to really fit the moment—and perhaps ultimate reality---closer than I imagined at the time.

As I road into the location of an old logging camp, I began to cast the inhabitants of this 1890’s site into a Tombstone, Dodge City or Lincoln County. I have been to all three places, but had married side relations that grew up in Dodge. Some had come from Cimarron, Fowler, Meade, and Montezuma, all in western Kansas. As you know, I was a Kansas Marshal and State Trooper. My good friends Dennis Burks, John Bunker and Carlos Wells, were all former Dodge City peace officers and I knew the area well. So, glimpses of this old cow town kept crowding the scene as I viewed this abandoned settlement on that brilliantly beautiful day.

The cast unfolded in this way. George “Border King” Bush and “Sure-Shot” Dick Cheney ran a lumbering town nicknamed the “District of Corruption” by the locals. Ben “Bankster” Bernanke owned the largest gambling joint, the “Warlord Saloon,” and was known to charge the town fathers an exorbitant amount of interest on their continuing debt at the tables. Bernanke knew that he would have a great income off the debt these men owed, so he kept them coming for more and he provided an endless supply of cash for them to gamble the town’s future upon.

Showcasing the gambling hall were several dance hall women in bright red dresses. Nancy Pelosi, Diane Feinstein, Hillary Clinton, Michelle Obama and beer supplier Cindy McCain were known as the “Vulture Queens” since they picked the pockets of the poor drunks too wasted to know that they had been singled out for a drunk tax by the saloon babes.

The rifle toting men in black were members of the notorious regulator gang that hid behind the more respectable title of “Hometown Security.” The shadowy leader was Michael Mossad Chertoff or “Squeaky.” He could be picked out of a crowd by the contingent of skin-headed agents always hovering around him. “Halliburton Men” replaced the Pinkerton’s and ran the jail facility on the edge of town, while depot TSA personnel made boarding a stage or train an ordeal even worse than the trip itself.

As the picture became clear, it was easy to see the other players in this den of vipers and thieves. These included Barack “Honolulu Kid” Obama, and John “Forestall” McCain. Only Chuck “the Parson” Baldwin ran a clean, honorable campaign. They were all running hard to be the new town Mayor. The choices based on character, could not have been more clear.

Into this fray came a few brave souls whose only mission was to rescue this camp from the iron grasp of evil men and women who had nearly won the entire town as their own kingdom.

The town’s only physician, a Dr. Paul, promised to throw out the bums who were spreading the virus of corruption to every home. A new paper called “The USA Tomorrow” and its brave publisher Jeff Lawrence, finally gave a voice for real news and a principled approach to the town’s political misfortunes. Granny Warriors from the area brought people from all over to witness good folks getting together and planning how to take back their town once and for all. Legendary Kansas lawman Maynard “old Braz” Brazeal along with Jim Schweisow, Andrew Wallace, and yours truly, rode in for some back-up and stand in the gap security for the good guys.

Devvy the Kidd, Frosty, Alan Stang, Bill Moore, and George Van Cleve made up the investigative crew who were hot on the heels of Bush, Cheney and Chertoff. Together, they were a mighty sword of truth and strength against such entrenched evil doers. Rounding out this team was the Coach himself, Dave Daubenmire. Dave was constantly reminding the pulpits in town to stand for what was right and not to be silent!

To be sure, there were many good folks in town who stepped out on their porches and lit the flames for freedom and renewal along with this mighty gathering of patriots dedicated to replenishing the oaks of freedom starting right in the “District of Corruption.”

Sadly, there were also many who sided with the gang, and others who said or did nothing, fearing that they would have to be seen in public taking a stand for what was right. Many were watching as this standoff moved through weeks and months of unknown outcomes. Famine, plagues and crises after crises, seemed to play on in tortuous succession as evil seemed to gain the upper hand. Then-----it happened! One by one, the good folks began to reclaim their rights. They fought for and won the majority of voters, and the tide began to turn decisively toward a lasting freedom built on trust, honor and truth.

Ok, enough already. My absurd daydream was just that, silly and trivial. But, I do believe that in some remote ways, this great “drama” is unfolding with the same kind of absurdity, but all too real situations that will be anything but silly, WHEN they begin to actually play out. 

Martial law, detention camps, forced inoculations for H5N1, national depopulation programs, regional conflict with illegals and foreign provocateurs, as well as domestic terrorists, will be the opening act for a “false flag” situation that will be the ace trump card on Bernanke’s game table. The “town” will unravel and the corrupt power brokers intend to be there to pick up and corner all the pieces of this great nation into a fiefdom that will rival Middle Ages Europe. All of us will have ringside seats. 

The clock is ticking toward high noon. The showdown is coming. Will you stand with the “good guys” or will you cave in to the evil ones? Forget the silly dream. Remember this truth. You WILL make a choice in real life. It is better that you know what you’re choosing NOW, before the men in black have their pistols pointed right in your face, demanding a choice you are unwilling to make.

http://www.newswithviews.com/Evensen/greg30.htm

© Copyright 2008, by Greg Evensen