Let Us Talk, You And I, Of War

It is time.

It is time to talk.

It is time to talk of war.

This is the war for our liberation. This is the war in which we really can win our freedom. It is a war that we have lost countless times. We lost because their sinister tactics worked. Did they come screaming at us in the dawn with automatic weapons? No. Did they snatch us from the streets and lock us away like some Iranian ayatollah would? No*. Did they slaughter millions of us like Joe Stalin? No.

*It seems that I was wrong. Holby offers proof that they do. Our friend at  FTAC Watch begs to differ with me as well. My apologies for getting this wrong.

They are much smarter than that. They simply....divided us. They sowed seeds of doubt in the strong. They infiltrated and ridiculed and blackmailed. They made life difficult for us. Misinformation fed to the "right" people ensured that we had limited success in our chosen careers. Deliberate smear campaigns ensured that we backed down. If you want a topical example of this, look no further than the Wikileaks shenanigans.

We are human beings, and we are fallible. They isolate us and they frighten us. This is a classic technique. I should know. In preparation for a posting to NornIron in the bad old days I was trained to snatch ring-leaders out of a crowd of rioters. The method proved consistently to quell the problem. A leaderless mob is just that. Direction has been removed and the crowd quickly breaks up. Agitators are vital in any uprising.

That, I believe, is our problem. Here in Bloggyland we have hundreds, thousands, of hugely intelligent people. People that know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that something stinks, and more importantly, that something has to happen. Something has to change. We all differ slightly on our tactics, but agreement is fairly broad. We allow ourselves to fall victim to that age old tactic of divide and conquer. Time and again I will read heart-stopping blog-posts, posts which move me, and inspire me, and on occasion, make my jaw drop with their originality and intelligence. I read, then I watch and wait. Sure as eggs are eggs, the trolls come. They throw in a negative remark, and run away. A casual hand-grenade lobbed into the discussion room and they're off. Only to reappear where they are sent (or paid?) to sow unease, to interrupt the conversation.

Who are these people? What is their motive? Why do they do this when they are victims of the same vindictiveness as us? When will they realise this? Where do these utterly controlled loons live and work? All legitimate questions and all slightly rhetorical. We could find the answers, but I know the answers are not important. Seeking the answers will only misinform and misdirect us. It is draining.

So draining, in fact, that members of our "army" suffer great battle fatigue and lay down their weapons. (In this case I obviously mean their keyboards). The words they wrote inspired and gave us cause to re-examine what we thought we knew, what we thought was true, and what we thought everyone agreed on. These casualties, a resilient bunch, usually recover and they usually return. The self-enforced break allows them to sharpen their tools in this nasty war and they come back with keyboards blazing, spitting bullets and hurling missiles at the righteous, the priveleged, the power-hungry, the controllers, the seriously deranged and the undoubtedly deluded. This is right. We are right. No matter how small the wound, it is a wound nevertheless.

It is my belief that we are winning. We are wearing them down. Our words, sometimes laden with sarcasm, sometimes with profanity, (mea culpa), but always with logic and common sense, hurt them. We expose these freaks, for that is what they are, never doubt that, to the sunlight, and they hate that. They are shadowy, secretive, and they imagine they are above the law. They are not, and a day of reckoning approaches fast.

They must be told that their behaviour has to change or the inevitable intervention will hurt them in ways they cannot conceive of. They must be told that they cannot continue to steal our children, steal our money, condone and cover up sexual abuse in the houses of the mighty and the powerful, that they cannot wage illegal wars and get away with it, that we will not be tagged, logged, tracked and controlled until we submit.

Into every life a little rain must fall.

What they are not expecting is a monsoon.

Some will merely contract pneumonia, but some, inevitably, will drown. We must steel ourselves for the bleating, for the pleas of "We were just carrying out our orders from above". That no longer cuts any ice. It is not a valid excuse. It will not wash.

We must be prepared, in many cases, not only to watch them drown, but we must also be ready to hold them down while they do. (This is metaphorical, of course, I cannot now advocate violence to other humans).

Until we reach that point, and reach it we must, take heart.

Know that you, blogger and commenter alike, are inflicting those one thousand cuts.

They will all die, eventually. Take comfort and solace from that.

Whatever else you do, prepare for victory. It is just around the corner.

The message here, if there is one, is this: if you are tired, take a break. If the words won't come, you need some downtime. You need to reboot. And you need to come back to the fray only when you are reinvigorated, refreshed, and rearmed.

Just never forget, soldier, that you are missed, that you are needed, and that we want you there at the end.

CR.