Author Archives: Larry

About Larry

I'm really a nice guy as far as SOBs are concerned. I just don't like crap and don't take crap. Much of what goes on in the world today is crap, and it is dealt with by morons. I guess this is one thing which makes me a SOB. So sue me if you don't like it.

I Was Asked if Kids Should be Taught to Respect Police

Kids should be taught to be very wary of police. Their primary job is to keep you in line with every piece of legislation, past and present, that comes out of our socialist government. They are wolves in sheep’s clothing. They cannot protect you.

Their secondary job is to pick up the pieces after mayhem is finished. Crime is big business for government. It creates jobs and creates fear in the general public so they can raise more money for more government.

Respect? Respect that the police have guns and you don’t if that’s the case. Trust? Trust that much of the time they may appear to be trying to help you, but be aware that their job is not to protect you; their job is to protect GOVERNMENT.

The day will come when the stock market, our economy, and society will collapse. At that point, when the chaos erupts throughout the country, the police will become your mortal enemy. They will have guns. Will you?

I am author Larry Landgraf. This website is a landing site for my book, How To Be a Smart SOB Like Me. I have been frustrated with government for decades. This is where I get my release so I can remain sane.

When you get finished here, please go to my primary website and take a look at what else I have to offer. You’ll be surprised.

My Primary Website

Super Human Powers

Over the past half-dozen or so decades, millions, or maybe even billions of comic books have been written and sold telling of human and humanlike creatures with amazing special powers accomplishing incredible feats. While I am not able to leap tall buildings and I am certainly not faster than a speeding bullet, I do believe I have super-human powers.

I wake up most nights, usually several hours after I have gone to bed, kicking off the covers and beginning to sweat. The cool night air feels refreshing against my skin which is damp and clammy, and my mind is racing. My mind is churning with bits and pieces of mostly stories, but sometimes poetry, which begin to form sentences, then paragraphs. These stories seem so vivid in my mind and most mornings when I get up, the stories are long gone. Many are not worth writing about. Tonight is an exception.

I am sitting at my computer letting the story pour out of my mind and onto the page. I am not Superman or Spiderman, but I do have powers. My abilities are not super-human, but instead are natural human powers. I believe this capability is within most if not all humans, but for some reason this function is strong and powerful within me. I know this human power exists within me and I am most certain it also exists in others, maybe all of us, but a little more pronounced in me because I have a huge hoard of fuel to burn.

Powers, human or otherwise, need fuel to grow and expand. My fuel is knowledge. I spent many years in school, and while I may not have been the best student, I was constantly learning. Suddenly, when I was about twelve, my learning ability kicked into overdrive. Learning became much easier and this lasted many years if not decades. I continue to learn today, though not quite as easily.

After finishing school, I continued to gather fuel, but through manuals and training materials, working with my hands, but also an occasional Playboy magazine. It doesn’t matter how you learn, only that you do. Knowledge is fuel for my human power and this fuel begins to burn hot most nights when I go to bed.

All materials do not burn and cannot be considered as fuel. Glass and steel do not burn, but wood and oil products burn very well. If your brain is stuffed with knowledge which may be closer to glass and steel, then maybe your human powers do not have the energy to burn as mine does. What this nonflammable knowledge might be, I do not know. Maybe some of the stuff I found in the Playboys, though they did contain some good articles. I do know that my knowledge burns, and it burns consistently. Flammable knowledge has to come from books and doing meaningful and constructive tasks.

I know that I am not a genius, but I don’t think that matters. I think a genius is more about how your brain processes rather than what it processes. I have written several books and some poetry here and there and none of it has been or will ever be considered mind boggling, genius, or priceless literature, but it is good, I think. I know many have certainly enjoyed my books and short stories.

So here I sit, my mind pouring out through my keyboard to the computer screen. I never know what my mind is going to spit out, but tonight it is an explanation of what my mind is generating, but not how it is doing it. If I only knew what is causing my mind to generate my stories, maybe I could pass it along to others and there would no longer be the need for my second book, How to be a Smart SOB Like Me. If only I could roll the secret into a tiny pill. You actually have to take some initiative and do something to read and learn.

Too few people read more than the bare minimum. There are a lot of minimal people in the world who need the help I offer. Too bad the help is not in the form of a medication. But that would be too easy. No one ever said life was easy. It’s not supposed to be. You build your mind just like your muscles—hard work!

I can only theorize why and how my brain churns out my stories night after night, though only a portion of it ever gets written down as I am doing tonight. As an example, tonight I got to bed around 10:30, got to sleep by maybe 11:00, and it is now almost 3:00 a.m. That’s when it happens.

Now, how does it happen? I think it may be a combination of what I know and my lifestyle. What I’ve learned over the years I think plays a big part in the process, but also my routine. I have always heard that one should eat a big breakfast to give your body the energy to learn, process, and produce to its greatest extent during the day. I, however, tend to eat more in the evening, and especially things on the sweet side, to give my body the energy to work at an elevated level during the night when I really should be sleeping. I am productive during the day, but maybe I could be more prolific during the daytime if I changed my eating habits, but I’m not about to change something that’s working.

As far as what I know, I have learned so much during my life including such a wide array of subjects, there is no telling what will pop out of my head. While much of what I learned in school included a hefty portion of mathematics, science, and chemistry, it also included fair amounts of art and literature. I studied Thoreau and Emerson, but really love Poe and Shakespeare. I like to paint and carve, but no longer seem to have the time with these, as writing and chores around the house seem to take up most of my time, as does traveling.

Outside of school subjects, over my life I have learned many skills, including welding, construction, air conditioning, electrical and numerous other trades. Again, I may not be an expert at these skills, but I do have a reasonable amount of capability to get everything done around the house that needs doing.

At the moment, I am sixty-eight years old and I am still studying and learning new skills. Who said ‘you can’t teach an old dog new tricks’? I learn something new every day. Most recently, I am into audio and video skills on the computer which I enjoy very much. I can create nice websites, I think, edit photos, design covers for my books, and make my own book trailer videos. I also am getting better at writing as I increase my vocabulary, my knowledge in the use of the Word program, and improve my correct use of the English language as it pertains to writing.

On top of the more sedentary chores, I also chop wood, mow the lawn and pasture, and care for an extensive garden and orchard. There are always a few inside and outside maintenance chores on the list too.

Another thing which may aid my human power is my genetic make-up. Somewhere buried deep in each and every cell of my body are chromosomes which give me the drive to learn more, to do more, and to be all that I can be. Do you have this gene? I don’t know. All I know is that I apparently do have it, if it exists. Are you driven to do more? If not, can you be taught to learn to exceed your inherent capabilities? I do not know. I think you can, but it may take a little more effort to bring out the best in you. Can you become a Smart Sob Like Me? Only you can answer that. Only you can push yourself to your limits and beyond. I can only offer you the idea. You must put it into action.

So, am I super-human? No, I am simply human like you. With the right knowledge and skills, you can do everything I can do. You have in your genes the ability to learn to execute every capability that I have. Maybe not everything all at once, but over time, if you put your mind and body into it, you can be me. The only question is, will you?

I cannot make you read a book. I cannot make you get off your ass and do something. I have no power over you. The only thing I can do is suggest and guide you in the right direction. Maybe you don’t even want to head on over my way and that is fine with me. If you are happy and doing great, then you do not need me. But if you are in a rut, have no direction, or are not happy, then maybe you should listen up. If not from me, listen to someone else who is maybe a little bit smarter and happier than you are. If your life is in shambles, you obviously are headed off in the wrong direction. Wouldn’t it be smart to try another route?

If you’ve read this far, you obviously have some skills. But do you have what it takes to be like me? Only you know. I hope you are much smarter than I am and happy on top of that. Maybe you don’t want to be like me. If you are happy with yourself and your life, and if I were in your position, maybe I’d rather be like you. I certainly like myself and my life, but there is always room for improvement. I am no exception to that rule.

So, what are you going to do now? First, ask yourself one question—do I need help? If your answer is anything but no, get the help you need. It doesn’t have to be from me. The help can come from within yourself. Get a book on a subject and skill you need and make yourself read and learn. I’ll bet that if you do, you may even learn to enjoy reading and learning. I’ll wager you’ll want more. Learning is like candy . . . get a taste and you’ll want it again. Well, maybe not exactly like candy, but you know what I mean.

Finally, if you need help and you choose not to get it, you will get no pity from me. There is a reason for the SOB in the title of my second book How to be a Smart SOB Like Me. I am not just smart. If you care so little about yourself, your life, and your livelihood, why in Hell should I care? The truth of the matter is that I don’t. It is in my nature to try to help people, but I will not lift a finger to help someone who is too lazy or stupid to help themselves.

I don’t know why I wrote this post. Maybe some magical power made me write it specially for you. I think I write interesting stories which the vast majority of people will like if they just take the time. If you like what I write but don’t need what I say, then smile and move on. If, on the other hand, you like and need what I say, then take it to heart and get off your ass and do something about your life. It is your life and you can flush it down the toilet, so to speak, if you wish, but if you do, you will get no sympathy from me.

Who knows, maybe you will actually read How to be a Smart SOB Like Me and want to read more of my books. Who says I can’t have an ulterior motive? I am, after all, smart enough to help myself.

My first book Dangerous Waters was written in 1986 and is out of print. After the SOB book in 2012, I wrote Into Autumn which needed a sequel, Into Spring and I’m currently (12.29.16) working on Into Winter. I never planned on becoming a writer, but finally after my third book, I came to the realization that I am now truly an author. When I finish Into Winter, I will complete my Four Season Series with Into Summer. Find me on amazon.

So, my friend, I wish you much success and happiness with whatever you choose to do from this day forward. Remember this, if you will, without knowledge, you will have no wisdom when you get my age. Don’t make excuses; make decisions. The clock is ticking.

Don’t be afraid. Cross the bridge to a better life.


Happy Holidays!

I would like to wish all my friends and followers a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year from Ellen and I. Yes, my relatives too. May you be healthy and happy wherever you may be.


2017 is going to be a good year. I look forward to getting to know some of you a little better. I have a new website for my latest book, Into Spring. I hope you will stop in and take a look around. Please leave a comment. Into Spring sequel to Into Autumn

If you have not taken a look at my primary website for Into Autumn, I hope you will take this opportunity to do so. Into Autumn

If you would like one or more of my books now, please go to Amazon

Thank you, and have a very Merry Christmas!

The day my world blew up in my face…literally!!

It was December 8, 2000, and I had just picked up Ernest, my helper for the day. I was a contractor working on a roofing job in Palacios, Texas. On the way to the jobsite, we stopped by a local propane company in Port Lavaca to fill the 10-gallon propane tank I used to melt and seal the thermoplastic membrane used to waterproof the roof.

When we arrived at the jobsite at 8:00 AM, Ernest set up the ladder and began to carry tools and supplies onto the roof. I secured the ladder behind him and took the freshly filled propane tank up and set it in the middle of the roof. Ernest and I then begin to install the metal trim around the perimeter of the building, as the roof surface had already been completed and was waterproof. It was time to finish the perimeter waterproofing.

After I had installed several pieces of trim, as had Ernest, he continued to install the trim while I went to get started heating the thermoplastic membrane strips to the metal and to the roof to seal the perimeter. I grabbed several membrane strips and took them over to the edge of the roof, then returned for the torch and propane tank. I walked up to grab the tank, and when I touched it, it exploded.

The next thing I knew, I was lying on my back about ten feet from where the tank exploded, watching a cloud of propane vapor rising high into the air. I was numb, and I knew I was hurt severely. I touched my mid-section and it felt cold. Liquid propane is about -50 degrees and I was splashed with it. There was almost no blood, but I knew it had to be bad.

Ernest was some distance away and was unhurt by the blast, but it scared him enough that he jumped off the ten feet high roof in order to get help. A woman in a house across the street came out after hearing the explosion. She asked Ernest if we needed help, then she went back inside and made the call.

The EMS station was about a mile down the road. They arrived quickly and began to assess my damage. One of the men said they had heard the explosion and began to get their gear ready as they waited for the call. They said they knew someone had to have been hurt from the loudness of the bang.

As one of the technicians examined me, the other two, along with Ernest, set up another ladder. They got their transfer cage to the roof to get me down and into their ambulance. I was slid down the ladders crossways, loaded onto a gurney and into the back of the ambulance.

The trip to the hospital seemed to take forever. There was no hospital in the fishing community where the accident occurred. I was taken to Bay City about 50 miles away. I could feel every little bump, and there were many. As the minutes passed, I could feel the numbness going away, and the pain was nearly unbearable by the time we reached the emergency entrance. I began to fade out.

It seemed like only seconds until I reached the operating room where three surgeons were waiting. They had been called in advance and were ready for me when I arrived. I was told to count backwards from 100. I recall getting to 97.

I awoke in a bed. I was alive. I had monitors and tubes hooked up it seemed in every place where something could be hooked up. And I hurt.

I don’t remember a lot about the next few days as I was drugged heavily. I remember eating a little once or twice and nurses were constantly fiddling with me. Every time I would doze off, someone would wake me back up to check my vitals and give me pills.

Day four, I was moved to a private room. I was given a small amount of food. The hospital food actually tasted good. I was still in a lot of pain, and the morphine, for which I had a control switch, only took the edge off the agony. It never subsided completely.

My surgeon came in every day and made changes to the nurse’s routine and medications. It was shortly after I was moved into the private room when it was decided my intestines had shut down. There was also a bright yellow liquid staining my bedclothes. The urologist who had helped put me back together in the operating room was called in. The yellow liquid was not urine. I overheard the doctor tell one of the nurses my intestines needed to be stimulated or they might begin dying. This would necessitate more surgery.

I was also bloated from the food I had eaten that my body could not process. A tube was inserted down my throat, and I remember three things. First, is the nastiest and vile liquid which gushed into the container which fortunately was mostly sealed.

Second, I remember the huge relief when the pressure was released. I felt like I was going to explode like a balloon about to pop. The relief was welcome.

Third, I felt extremely hungry. I was always hungry, but it’s hard to eat on a full stomach, but now that my stomach had been emptied, I wanted to eat. But my intestines were shut down. No one was going to give me food at this point. The tube was left in my stomach and a pump added. My stomach was continually pumped for several days.

I remember the mention of at least three types of enemas, but the one that sticks in my mind is the ‘slushy’ enema. All food was cut off for four days while my intestines were stimulated. I ate a total of one cup of crushed ice over those four days. I wasn’t going to die from starvation because of the IV, but I was getting damn hungry.

Another problem was that every time the nurses had to change the bed pads, the pain shot through my body to the point of nearly passing out. I asked for a trapeze bed so I could lift myself straight up to allow the nurses to change the dirty pad. My pelvis was not only fractured in several places, it was broken in half. The twisting was what was killing me when the two halves of my pelvis ground together. Even in my weakened condition, I was still strong enough to hold my body weight up long enough for this task to be completed. The trapeze was a welcome addition.

Another cat scan was ordered to take another look at my injuries. Again, the twisting and moving from the bed to the gurney, a flat and cold board slid underneath me and then onto the cat scan table shot excruciating pain through my body. Then the procedure reversed with an equal, if not more severe amount of pain.

Finally, my intestines began to work on the eighth day and I made a big mess in the bed. I apologized to the nurses, but they took it in stride and with a smile. I don’t think I could have done that. Nurses everywhere have my respect.

At one point, the doctor prescribed some medication which made me hallucinate badly. The dream continued for two nights and was the same both nights. I dreamt that I had to roll twine into a ball. As the ball got bigger and bigger, the ball became impossible to manage, yet I couldn’t stop. I woke up screaming in frustration of not being able to continue with my task.

Ernest came into the room to visit when I was able to talk to him; probably on the 4th or 5th day. He had some questions about what I wanted to do about the roof we were working on. I asked him to do whatever he needed to do to complete the job and keep track of his hours. I gave him full use of my truck to get the job done. He completed the perimeter with flashing cement and coated the roof to finish the job.

On the ninth day, my doctor came in and checked me out. That was the first time I remember actually looking at my injuries. I had a row of metal staples about eight inches long between my navel and groin area. It looked nasty. The tissues on my legs and stomach had solidified into a giant blood clot. I lay my head back down. I didn’t want to see any more.

Now that my intestines were working again, and I seemed to be doing better, my doctor commented that he really thought I was going to die. The morphine was finally beginning to do its job to my satisfaction. My doctor called a therapist in to get me walking, and it was she who gave me my first shower.

I don’t remember her name anymore, but she was a tiny gal. She assured me that she would not let me fall. With the help of a walker, her holding onto me tightly, and with a strap high around my waist, she got me into the shower and removed my hospital gown. She scrubbed me without saying a word and cleaned every square inch of my body. I fell in love with her immediately. The warm water felt so good against my body! And when she cleaned my private parts I began to feel alive again. There was no way there would be any reaction she would notice, though I felt the blood stirring.

I was also put back on food again, starting with a liquid diet. That day I had the best meal I have ever had in my entire life. It was only beef broth, but after not eating for too many days, it tasted better than any steak I have ever had, and I do love a good ribeye.

I got hungry several nights, and at this point I couldn’t seem to get enough food. The liquid diet wasn’t staying with me very long, and I talked one of the night nurses to sneak me in some popsicles. They were wonderful.

This little therapist gal came in every day, and we walked to the door and back at first. Then we made the trek into the hallway and finally down to the end of the hall after the third day. I say we walked, but with my walker and my pretty therapist holding onto me not so tightly now, I managed to scoot my feet along to make my way down the corridor.

By the 12th day, my doctor decided there was no more that he or the hospital could do for me. I could go home. I didn’t feel I was ready and chose to stay an extra day. I still didn’t feel strong enough, but went home anyway.

A few days after getting home, a physical therapist began coming in twice a week. I was pretty much healed up, but I was a long way away from being well. I could not walk without a walker, could not get out of bed without assistance and though I ate plenty, I didn’t seem to have any strength except in my upper body. I had worked hard all my life and was very strong because of the work, but the only strength I had now was in my upper half. The bottom half seemed all but dead.

My intestines were not only working again, they were working overtime. I had a lot of digestive problems. I could not eat anything that was remotely spicy or hard to digest. And food was going through me like there was no tomorrow. A good friend suggested chlorophyll tablets. I took his advice. He suggested taking about a dozen at a time. They weren’t going to hurt me and just might do me some good. I took a batch of the pills twice, but they couldn’t work. I would poop them out undissolved in two hours. They were not getting a chance to help me. They were going through my body so fast they wouldn’t even dissolve. My thought was that maybe food was also going through me so fast that my body couldn’t absorb enough nutrients to feed me. This may also be the reason I was so hungry all the time, regardless of how much I ate, which was a lot.

I went back to the doctor. He prescribed a little fast dissolving pill, which taken over a month, slowed my intestines down to a more normal rate. This did the trick.

I have been a survivor all my life by necessity. I wasn’t going to let this get me down. I would get stronger. I would do whatever I needed to do to get back into shape. I did the exercises my therapist instructed me to do. I was in constant pain, but I did the work. Often, walking only consisted of a walk to the bathroom, then around the kitchen/living room.

In between my exercise sessions, there was very little else I could do. This gave me plenty of time to think. To think how lucky I was. If the top half of the propane tank which hit me just above the groin when the tank separated in the middle during the explosion had hit me anywhere else, I’d be dead. If the propane had ignited, I’d be dead. If the lacerations on the inside of my legs had reached an artery, which they barely missed, I’d be dead. There are so many other ‘what if’s’ which could have easily resulted in my death. But they didn’t.

I was so lucky, however bad this incident was. An accident over which you have no control can happen at any time, and they can and will happen in an instant. This got me to thinking. I was strong enough to survive something like this. My life of hard manual labor saved me. You only live once and I very nearly lost it all.

Now, if I am going to die, I will have lived as well as I can. This experience has mellowed me considerably and has changed my life forever, for the better. Though my wife, now my ex, has moved on, it doesn’t matter. She is happy I think, and I have found someone else to share my life. Someone once said, “Only you can make you happy”. I truly believe that. If you are not happy, you have the power to make your life better. Do whatever you need to do to be happy. Don’t let anything stand in your way. You only have one chance at life, and if you are not happy, you are wasting your life. You never know when fate is going to blow up in your face.

Weeks with my physical therapist got me to where I could stand, lift a foot off the floor and walk. I still needed the walker, but I was walking more than scooting now. I was going outside too. It was January, and I really don’t remember it being all that cold, but I was eating a lot and exercising too, so my body was generating an enormous amount of heat so I didn’t get cold, even dressed lightly. I walked out to the mailbox which was normally a one minute or less stroll. That took fifteen minutes. I was moving along! I practiced getting in and out of my truck unassisted. Good thing there was a grab handle just inside the door. I wouldn’t have made it without it.

My son-in-law needed a new job and I needed someone to take care of the work end of my contracting business. After I was able to drive my truck safely, I began going to the jobsites to check on his work. I had given up my walker for a cane. Climbing the ladder was good exercise. I was intense on getting back to my old self—the tough SOB I once was. And maybe, just maybe, not so much of the SOB I had always been.

The explosion ripped my stomach open from hip to hip. Both legs were ripped open on the inside near the femoral artery. My pelvis was shattered in two large places as well as broken in half. My backbone was also severely aggravated. My bladder exploded from the impact. Finally, one of my testicles was ripped out and destroyed beyond repair. The tissues around the entire area had been damaged significantly due to the trauma. Much of the area was hard like a very large dried blood clot. It’s no wonder I very nearly died.

A year later, I could do light work. Two years later, I could do moderate work, but not nearly enough hard work I could return to my business. I decided it was time for me to retire. My lawyers had a field day with the people who filled the propane tank, the manufacturers of the propane tank and the pop-off valve which didn’t pop off to relieve the pressure in the tank. So, I retired. Over time, my son-in-law couldn’t handle the work, or at least couldn’t make me money, so I eventually shut the company down.

I did finally return to doing some small jobs from time to time to supplement my income. A couple years ago, I decided I just didn’t have to do the work anymore and completely retired. But a person like me retiring is nothing like most people retiring. I imagine most people retiring to a life of leisure. That may or may not be the actual truth of the matter, but I certainly have not retired to a sedentary life. I maintain nine acres, an orchard of about 80 fruit trees of all kinds, take care of a large garden, and am constantly doing a re-model around the house. I’m also fighting critters of all sorts, large and small. Maybe my biggest job now is taking care of Ellen, though this gives me a lot of pleasure and satisfaction as well. It’s my primary job, but it’s no chore.

I found I like flying. I began flying a couple years before I met Ellen. Travel is a main thing we have in common. Las Vegas is my favorite destination, but Ellen and I have traveled to several exotic locations, as well as numerous areas of the continental USA, and Alaska and Hawaii.
Travel makes Ellen happy and it makes me happy, so we do it. Like I said earlier, if you are not happy, it’s your own fault. You only live once, so live life to its fullest. You will die one day, and you never know when that might be. You may as well die knowing you got all you could out of life.

Is Democracy Dead in the USA?

Many people truly believe democracy in the USA is dead. Others believe it died a long time ago. You certainly must believe that it may be dying at the very least.

Basically, democracy is government ruled by the people. For much of our history, government through officials elected by the people, has governed the country as dictated by the Constitution and did a decent job back when the Constitution was important. The rule of the land, however, has always been a dictatorship, with individuals making the rules within their own worlds, namely on their own property.

Off their property, the general populace respected the rights of others and most got along well since overall the rules were not all that different; there was just a new ruler depending upon whose property you happened onto. When the rules ventured into gray areas, disputes were settled largely with a gun. If you happened onto someone else’s property, whether intentionally or accidentally, you abided by their rules or were met with deadly force. Property owners were kings within the confines of their property, but no more.

The United States is the first democracy to last well over 200 years. There is a reason democracies cannot last forever. As the population grows, there is always the need for more laws, and government is all too happy to provide the rules. Also, as the number of hands in the government till grows, it is inevitable that the till dries up. It gets exceptionally dangerous when government prints and borrows more money than it could ever pay back.

With a much larger population now in the USA, and laws, rules and regulations covering most, if not all, aspects of the lives of every citizen, even on their own property, this democracy has resulted in despotism. Government still goes through the motions of a democracy, but the monster has taken over and rules with an iron fist with little respect for the Constitution or the people.

The problem is that there are simply too many people. Most do not vote. They can’t. They have more important things to do; surviving at the top of the list. Or maybe they see voting as not as important as most other things in their busy lives. Others, and I am one of them, see that voting changes little, though I do vote much of the time, but do I see change for the better? No, the monster just keeps growing.

Most people are just trying to survive and make the best out of a bad situation. Citizens working for the government just want to keep their jobs so they will at least have a reasonably comfortable life. They care little about changing government for the better. They care little that we grow more socialistic every day. Most seem to be comfortable with socialism and accept it.

Many people fear our government; many are arming themselves in defense of their property and their very lives. A motto used at one time by the police was ‘to protect and serve’ but this has fallen by the wayside. First, government cannot protect you. They never could. They just pick up the pieces when a disaster is over. Only you can protect yourself. And government certainly does not ‘serve’. You ‘serve’ the monster. You do exactly what they say or you shall be punished. It is not right that people should be afraid of their own government, but that is a fact today. And it is not right that man is no longer ‘king’ of his own castle, but that is a fact as well. It is worse when government says you do not have the right to protect yourself and your property as you see fit, but this is also true today.

For clarity, government includes all national representatives which are more visible, but also every state, county, and city official. Every public or secret policeman, every constable, county clerk or city secretary are part of the monster. They outnumber those outside of government who work so hard to pay too much of their hard earned money to feed the monster. The simple fact that government workers outnumber non-government workers is a testament to the fact that government is out of control and has been for many years.

Does this monster need to die? Not necessarily, but it certainly needs to be tamed. Is there a solution? Probably not one which will do anything other than bring this country to the brink of disaster. A civil war at least is coming. Death and destruction is coming. Population reduction is coming. It may not happen this year, next year or even in the next decade, but it is coming. Are you preparing?