8:00 A.M. Pacific time, 1/6/20, as text after text rattles my flip phone announcing rebellion…

Look, there was only one mention made of working palefaces in the Founding Documents of this Nation. Between the Declaration of Independence, The Articles of Confederation, the Northwest Ordinance and the Constitution of the United States and its Amendments, only one thing was granted the free man who did not own another man as his slave. Only one lot was proclaimed for the freeman, being he who is not a slave, but does not own real estate or people. That thing was the duty to fight and die for the young nation. That is it. Nothing else was promised.

Thus, when that war was done, and George Washington’s men, knew that only a king could save them from the elites and that they had been used to separate them from him, some of them begged Old George to become King. He refused, made a great gesture of it. He betrayed his men back into the hands of their oppressors. But was he ever their savior? He executed them at Valley Forge. He lost most of the battles.

Later, in the Whiskey Rebellion, who died?

Not the rebels. The people who died, starving to death in the freezing winter rain, were the conscripts, the slave soldiers raised to put down that rebellion. Each officer had a personal slave soldier, to pour his tea and whiskey. And, when some of these poor bastards ran away, Shawnee warriors were paid $20 a head to kill them and bring back their scalps.

When those same Shawnees made war on the U.S. a few years later, Washington had an army of men abducted out of inns, jails and whorehouses and sent under old fool Sinclair to fight them. I believe only a red-headed hooker survived that 1797 battle, faster than the entire Shawnee nation she was. What a tart she must have been.

So, in some science-fiction future when you think you have elected a savior, you have instead elevated a new George. When police are told they cannot lock up criminals, that means they have been repurposed to lock up working men.

Some big-talking, piece-of-shit New York guy might pretend to lead. But just like Washington, when his fellows of his class, of his high kind, remind him where his loyalty lie and who holds the purse-strings of power, he will shit the bed just like Old George.

Benedict Arnold, Mad Anthony Wayne, Marion the Swamp Fox and others were heroes of the Revolution. Washington was its villain and every man in his place assumes that tainted burden, the responsibility, the sacred duty, to send us into harms way and then thanklessly turn away.

So, if in some science-fiction scenario, you think you see a leader, remember that just like Old George, he is wearing a suit which separates him morally from you [it being a Social Steerage Cult vestment] and is a member of a secret fraternity devoted to the harvesting of your work, your loyalty, your decency, your children, your sorrows and your hopes.

So, in some science-fiction future, if it comes to pass, recall the cloaked and misconstrued past.

Do not be a chump.

Do not be fooled again.

This is not your nation.

This is your hate pen.