A Harangue About

Kith and Kin Everywhere,

In my not-so-humble-opinion, we fat, happy, yet dumbed-down Americans are being led down the road to disaster and slavery.  No, no, not us, but our future -- our progeny, who already exhibit the beginnings of a future like cattle being led to slaughter.

For fear of being labelled a right-wing, conspiracy wacko -- which I might be -- I must emphasize my analysis that both the Republican and Democrat Parties have ceased to exist except in name.  Both have been captured by the Progressives and, therefore, should be so labelled.  And just what is the background, the history of the Progressive?

With my BA cum laude in History and a Master's thesis written in Historical Geography, then abandoned, along with a long lifetime of high interest in Geopolitics, here's my take on how the Founding Fathers' dream of a new concept of individual freedom is being savaged, ravaged and in danger of being discarded.  To oversimplify in order for the high school drop-out to comprehend even if that drop-out flunked junior high.  In other words, "lowest common denominator," not that you need it, but maybe someone peeking in might.

President Woodrow Wilson was an egghead before the term was originated -- the only PhD President ever.  It would seem that he might have not trusted those citizens of us to run the loose organization of a representative democracy.  He would have wanted a panel of the higher educated and talented "elite" to run the machinery of government to the advantage of us common folk.  The clandestine Progressive Party is hung nearly if not directly upon the ladder of Karl Marx' and Frederick Engels' concepts of Communism.

Reflect back in your American History; the days of the industrial moguls and the poor, immigrant worker slaving in miserable work environments while living in tenement apartments in the growing cities.  Recall the history of sidewalks, even.  Before the 1860s, sidewalks were the domain of the property owner; Karl Marx et al preceded that by almost 20 years, he wrote Das Kapital in the 1840s.  Concrete city sidewalks began to come into vogue in the 1880s.  Does that set the tone?

Wilson, as well as I can understand it, thought that the "igornant" citizen didn't have the knowledge to run the corporation that was the USA -- remember the PhD?  Apparently, his thoughts were more along the line of today's corporations with a CEO (the President) with a Board of Directors subservient to the CEO (the Congress) and a bunch of worker bees running the day-to-day operation.  This is not exactly historically correct, but you get the idea.

Remember that he and his administration introduced some major changes in the Constitution that wrought a violent wrenching to the USA.  He brought about the 17th Amendment, forever changing States Rights by the way Senators were elected and his Congress created the Federal Reserve Act which he had vetoed.  That diminished the power of the U.S. Treasury -- both occurred in 1913.  The Treasury thus became beholden to the whims of a cabal of bankers and no longer under the direct control of Congress -- by extension, the voting citizenry.

He sought under his "Fourteen Points" the creation of the League of Nations, the first attempt at One World governance.  It flopped.  As WW2 came to a close, the United Nations came into being and we all know what a disaster that has been.

All of this points toward his goals that are labelled "progressive."  At the same time, public education under the philosophical influence of John Dewey was abandoning the prior "readin', 'ritin' and 'rithmetic" as well as the studies of the Classical Period of Greece and Rome during which were laid the principles of America by the Founding Fathers.  Never before in the history of Mankind had there been such an experiment in freedom under a representative democracy.

Dewey's Progressive Education system was designed not to create the background of thought and reason as laid out in the Classical Period of civilization under which the USA's unique form of governance was created by the Founders.  Instead, to reduce it to simplicity, education of the "masses" would be to turn out "mechanics" to operate a society.  To be sure such mechanics would still produce doctors, lawyers, candlestick makers, engineers, toilers, housewives, secretaries and teachers -- but Classical history died.  You may turn the clock back and try to remember how much of the Classical Period you were allowed to study in school.

Your mandatory math was limited and you for sure never learned to write cogent and lengthy essays in public schools of the post-WW2 period.  History; not much in detail, especially about the martial periods of America's development.  Science; a touch on biology at best.  Civics: just an overview and math was to be avoided by most students at all cost beyond algebra.

Right?

That was John Dewey's "contribution" to the Wilsonian Progressivism.  Who needed to know the "how" of America's greatness as long as you could design a building or repair a faucet or overhaul a piece of machinery?  All of the foregoing has produced the schism in the America in which we live today.

Geography?  Who needs that?  Who cares what is going on with China's New Silk Road?  We have the opening of the season of the MLB and where the Super Bowl will be next year, especially we want to watch to see the expensive and clever commercials to get you to buy, buy, buy.

And we haven't even touched on the poor, brainwashed teachers of today.  Products of the John Dewey disaster, they are so poorly paid that in 1971 with a Community College Credential in Earth Sciences in my pocket that I had to turn down a proffered college teaching job.  And I truly wanted that job!  With three teenagers at home, however, the salary might have fed only one and I loved them all.

Stay tuned -- I'm going to leave this soapbox to your own exploration of Progressivism and John Dewey via the Web and return to the One Belt One Road initiative that I predict might reduce the USA to Third World status without a shot being fired.

Pretty clever, these Chinese.

--end--

Kith and Kin Everywhere on March 28, 2018,

On this day in Arizona history in 1884, O.W. Sample, William Delaney, Dan Dowd, Tex Howard and Dan Kelly were hung from a single gallow in Tombstone for the murder of four people, including a pregnant woman, during the robbery of a store.

Speaking of pregnancy, it seems as if Hardy, our pet roadrunner, is preparing for a spring happening.  Marlene saw him/her carrying sticks, twice, for nest building.  He still is sharing meatballs with his skittish kid, Babe, however.  Hardy eats 3 or 4 meatballs at one sitting, while his kid demands 3 squares a day, but not on the floor of our back patio.  He demands to be fed on the patio wall within inches of me, but keeps a quick getaway path open.  Funny.

Of course, it is spring here in the cold desert.  Cold, that is, for a desert.  It's late March, snowing in the mountains of eastern Arizona, almost a gale blasting out of the north and only 75° here.  

Good news is that we'll be in the mid-90°s by the end of the week, ending a cool, dry winter and spring, so far.  We've had only 0.59-inches of rain so far this year.  If you are planning a visit to our teepee, you might want to carry extra water on the trip to get here in case of a traffic stoppage.  Dehydration is a serious business in Arizona!

Monday was granddaughter Sky's birthday -- a whole 12-years-old, translated means she enters the dreaded teens next year!!!!  We hope that her presents from us reached her in time, but we were dependent on two separate outsiders to make the delivery.  No word has come through Cyberspace or the phone as yet, so we are waiting on tenterhooks.  We insured the shipment for only $7,500 via FedEx, the maximum, although the value was more than that by far.

Hopefully, we'll have a happy young girl who's worth every penny of that.

There's not much happening around our desert city alongside a lake except for the Spring Breakers who flock here as a destination.  Traffic is noticeably heavier than normal even though the Snowbirds are winging their way northward to escape the searing heat that Marlene and I love so much.  

With new houses exploding everywhere, the traffic may portend a new norm for us.  We hope not.  We fled here to escape the traffic congestion of every big city.

We still have two vacant lots on our street, one requiring quite of bit of grading in order to build, the other nice and flat.  Then there's that empty 3/4-acre cul-de-sac lot just across Whaler Wash behind our house.  Great lot, owned by a woman in L.A., they tell us.  When and if she builds, it will limit our view, but stop the dust accompanying every breeze.

May we invite all to Portland's Fleet Week the first full week in June?  Come visit with Marlene and me on the PT658 to tour the fully-restored WW2 PT boat.  To take a ride will cost you some serious money as a tax-deductible donation to the all-volunteer foundation that has restored and operates this historical treasure.

The two of us CAN act as docents for free, but we still donate a four-figure amount to help keep her in ship-shape condition; the Foundation having no major sponsor.  Our wonderful public schools apparently barely touch on World War II much to the disgust of us who spent our youths fighting the Nazis and the Japs in faraway and remote places unknown to today's citizenry.

Alas, poor Jazz can't go.  He must stay here at our teepee slaving away at polishing his guns and leathers, unable to go with us.  He probably would rather "have the duty" than travel, anyway.  And somebody has to feed the roadrunner menagerie we have acquired.

Hopefully, by this time, most of Jack's Pack will have learned how to manipulate blogspot.com to be able to read the latest in the lives of JackandMarlene.  There will continue to be harangues, raves and rants, only not crammed into your mailboxes.  Instead, you'll have to hunt for them.  We hope you'll comment or at least acknowledge having read them.

We still are concerned that the bugaboo of "the Russians are coming" is just a smokescreen to cover the Communist Chinese.  The Chinese are the ones who are on the march to marginalize America.  Our analysis of the New Silk Road or One Belt One Road or OBOR is that it will leave the USA with only agriculture as a major export -- other than warplanes. 

Our American Progressives seem to be in lockstep, not with our fair nation, but with the Chi-Coms' goal of World Domination as in a New World Order.  We hope and pray that everyone of the Pack has read or will read both Huxley's Brave New World and Orwell's 1984 .  They are fictional forecasts of what might be in store if our Founding Fathers' experiment in governance fails or is tossed aside by the Progressive elitists among us. 

You may not recognize America's Progressives; they secretly wear the colors of both the Democrats and the Republicans.  Every Senator or Congressman with more than 10 years of tenure are to be suspect and voted out.  They tend to consider themselves elite rulers rather than Representatives of the voters who put them in their catbird seats.  Their $179,000 salary plus BENNIES, amount to far more than they are worth or most of them could hope to earn outside of their cushy cages.

Inre the hoopla over Trump's supposed tryst with Stormy Daniels, last night we Googled "Stormy Daniels in action" and came up with extremely hard core.  Ain't no way anyone might want to touch that broad -- no tellin' what STD you might end up acquiring!  Apparently, from what we observed, she'd do anything for money.  Be warned!!!!  The brutish Neanderthal-looking ape with whom she was playing was even uglier than I.  We were left in doubt that the future, non-drinking, non-smoking president might hook up with that whore.  Be warned!

C'mon, leave a comment.

PT Jack, the Neanderthal

Snippet

March 25, 2018

THAT GIRL!

August 2013

AND THE TAIL ON THIS TALE JUST KEEPS GROWING!

See the Post Script

Updated on March 25, 2018

           

            This is a long story that doesn't take long to tell.  It does require peering far back into ancient history, however, back to the immediate post-World War II years.

            Let's see; it had to be 1947.  I had been assigned as Naval Reserve instructor  to teach Naval Ordnance and Gunnery to Reservists in Bakersfield, California, my hometown.  Except the facility hadn't been finished yet and there were not many veterans ready to become Reservists, anyway.  So, the few of us on full-time active duty who had been assigned there had set up our headquarters in the American Legion Post 26 on 17th Street.

            Captain Art Berry, USNR, was asked to act as our temporary Commanding Officer until the official C.O. would arrive.  Now, Art Berry who was an officer with whom everyone fell in love and in awe had held every pay grade in the Navy from Apprentice Seaman through Chief Petty Officer to Warrant Officer and finally Captain.

            His regular job was with the Auto Club of Southern California, a AAA-affiliate; hence my being a AAA member continuously since 1946.

            Art, if I may be so bold, being the Senior Officer Present (SOP), had several active duty sailors without a job or a permanent home.  He also had only a small handful of drilling Reservists with nothing to do, so he came up with a plan involving a card table and a couple of folding chairs borrowed from Post 26.

            As necessary as well as to keep us busy, he sent us out onto the community's sidewalks to recruit new Navy Reservists from among the many recently demobilized veterans who would  be walking past.  There was a lot more pedestrian traffic in Bakersfield in this post-war era.

            One day, Bill, a Yeoman Second and I had parked our table on the east side of Baker Street in East Bakersfield.  Can't recall all of the long-gone stores, but I do remember that just across the street was a Newberry's, a five-and-dime store of the kind that no longer exist.  While visiting each store on the block to apprise the manager or owner of our presence and business, I saw one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen.  She worked in the store.

            My wife and I saw that girl a couple of time afterwards and I remember her eating at Nick and Johnny Antonares' coffee shop.  That girl had a very heavily-accented Irish lilt, so I would guess she was the War Bride of some lucky G.I.  She disappeared off the Baker Street scene shortly after that and I never saw her again.  Soon, she disappeared even from the recesses of my mind after another war, two children and divorce and a remarriage filled with wonderful adventures. 

            Fast forward about seven decades and a lifetime of experience.  Marlene and I had both retired and had chosen to live in the desert town of Lake Havasu City.  Now, it does get dusty in the Mohave Desert of Arizona and in our retirement, we had chosen to really retire.  Marlene acquired someone to clean our house.  I hired a landscaper to keep our yard in top shape.  Then we spotted a truck with D&D Window Cleaning on the side, so we called them to come clean the accumulated dust off of the windows in our home.

            When Angie came to the house to give us an estimate, she was not only breathtakingly  beautiful, petite and with a great figure, but she looked vaguely familiar.

Marlene and I both fell in love with Angie and her surfer-guy, Ted.  In addition they come give us a clearer outlook every three months.  What a couple of hard working, good looking entrepreneurs.

            As time went by our friendship grew and we began dining out together frequently but irregularly.  They felt like family.  We began a tradition of having Christmas dinners together as well as our dining together every couple of weeks, more or less. 

            Eating at our favorite China City Super Buffet one evening, I asked Angie just exactly where she fit in our lives, daughter or granddaughter, to which she flippantly answered that she preferred to be Wife #2, fully understanding that Wife #1, Marlene, and I were on the most solid of grounds.

            And, so began the mystery to our favorite Chinese waitress, Shan Lin, her English very limited, in how come such an old man had two wives.  To compound the mystery, Angie and I always share a side in a booth and she snuggles up for photos.          

            Marlene and I frequently eat lunch at China City when out and about at noon.  Shan Lin always asks, "Whe' Numba Two?" still not comprehending.

            One night during July, 2013, the vagaries of the brain's memory cells kicked in as they are wont to do at the oddest times.  It hit me!

            That girl!  That long-forgotten Irish lass who was one of the most beautiful women I'd ever seen -- can't say, "met," because I had never even spoken to her.  That's why Angie looked familiar!  That girl of long, long ago with the strikingly beautiful face, the lush, long raven hair, the trim almost perfect figure.  Angie could have been that Irish girl's reincarnation as much as the long-forgotten memory provided!

            Amazingly, that Irish lass whose name I never learned had aged only a little; matured is more like it, and there she stood in our house, albeit without a trace of the accent.  It had taken me a couple of years to make the connection when suddenly the vision popped open from somewhere far down among my aging brain cells. 

            No wonder that both Ted and Marlene let me be in love with Angie.  That admiration had been laying dormant for more than sixty years, tucked away in some remote recess!

<><><><><> 

8/2013

EPILOGUE

or

Simply, just a post script

            As the story of wife #2 has spread, next to declare herself as #5 was Georgia, a retired teacher with whom we were having dinner.  Georgia lived up in Washington state and was visiting here.  So be it!

            That left #3 and #4 Wives to be open.  Audrey, a gal from the American Legion Auxiliary, stepped forward to declare #3.  So be it!

            Laura is a friend whom we met when we were honored with the Friends of Youth Shooting award by Crosman Air Guns.  That was at the SHOT Show in 'Vegas in 2012.  Laura subsequently has visited our home and claimed #4 Wife for her own spot.  Laura is married to a NY State Police Lieutenant and lives in upstate NY.  So be it!

            Then Liz, who makes my Western hats, discovered the tale and announced that she was #6 -- the list was growing, my wives becoming legendary.  So be it!

            My buddy, Art, who lives across the street, has a step-daughter, Tammie, who is a nurse with the local VA clinic.  Hearing the story, Tammy immediately claimed #7, her husband agreeing????  So be it!

            Four doors to the east on our block live Janice and Bucky, both long-retired from the aerospace industry.  On August 14, 2015, during a dinner party we hosted at the local Golden Corral, Janice stepped forward claiming #8 as the legend grew.  So be it!

The story, as stories are wont to do, was becoming storied.  When Dylan from the Joe Foss Institute staff in Phoenix came to visit bringing his bride, Shelby, she heard the tale and declared for #9.  So be it!

            Now, that's the way 90-year-old Jack, married to "My Marvelous, Magical, Mysterious Marlene" or M5 who is the epitome of fantastic, ended up with a collection of wives.

            Understand that the numerical designation is not a ranking, but is strictly chronological -- ain't no way in hell I'm going to rank them any other way!!!!!

            Ain't no way, neither, that I'm going to seek more wives -- they must volunteer of their own accord -- but if they want to volunteer . . . . 

            But, there is a precedent that exists in our County of Mohave up on the Utah border at a place known as Colorado City.  Never heard of it?  That's why Google exists.  Look it up.

            And now, hearing about the story and jumping into my ersatz seraglio, the Skipper of the local Sea Scout Ship whose "sailors" we've been training to shoot, announced she'd take the #10 slot, so add Kathy.

            Sandy of Tucson, hearing the story, jumped into Jack's Wife #11 in late April, 2016, before Pam of Roseville, CA, wheedled her way into #13, skipping over #12 -- 'cause she says her birthday is on the 13th and she can remember her position.

            Oh, all of you sweeties, this is causing my brain to hurt trying to put to memory the chronology of all of you darlings.

--end--

Kith and Kin Everywhere,

With the outstanding help of Marquita, a blog-making genius, and the Whiz Kids, especially Brett Telliard, I have switched from an email "spammer" as gmail decided to label me.  I am now a tried and true, certified, rabid conservative blogger of things mundane and/or geopolitical with an emphasis on Asia and Middle East.  I am neither a Democrat nor a Republican, although registered as a Republican.  I am an American. 

I'm not a religious person except that my life has been centered around the teachings of Judeo-Christian tenets, mores and folkways.  My 43 years in the Navy Reserve with five recalls to active duty changed one tenet.  "Do unto others before they do unto you," in the case of warfare.

Now, I'm still not understanding of how this marvelous Web works nor do I care.  Being born in the 1920s and educated in the 1930s and with belated college in the 1960s, I was witness to the beginning of a seachange in education into John Dewey's "progress education" theory.  Taking a century to install into public schools and colleges, it has destroyed much of how I was taught -- to the detriment of our democratic republic.  

My undergraduate degree is in History with a concentration on the Western Movement of America.  Now, that mimics the story of my family's history as my own ancestor arrived in Virginia Colony as an Oliver Cromwell Prison-of-War.  He being a "medic" in Charles II's Scot army that was defeated at the Battle of Dunbar in 1650.  Confined in captivity for four years, finally he was shipped to America as a POW, an indentured servant -- a slave in 1654.

So, I can't buy into the many generations of whimperings about the enslaved Blacks.
In my not-so-humble opinion, those Americans who have more melatonin than average have been savaged and ravaged by the Democrat Party merely for the power to be had over a down-trodden portion of our citizens.  Once slaves, so was my forefather -- suck it up!

With some side bars here and there, my readers will be offered what I believe may be America's greatest danger:  Communist China and its New Silk Road.  Going by many names -- OBOR, BRIC, among them, the infrastructure is either in place or underway throughout Central Asia, the Indian Ocean, the Red Sea, Africa and the Middle East.

But, you can find not much in our decadent media even though its potential is to reduce the USA to a pauper, Third World status.  Although Communist China says it is sort of its version of America's post-WW2 Marshall Plan, we think it is world domination as espoused by such as Karl Marx, George Soros and the Progressives that have captured lock, stock and barrel the Democratic Party.  Not that I'm opinionated or anything!!!!

Stay tuned as I expound on the progress and implications as we all contribute to our demise every time we buy a Chinese-made product.  And, it's harder and harder for us to purchase consumable goods made anywhere else.  We can thank the Clinton Cabal, the G.W. Bush fumble and Barack Obama's hatred of America for allowing this to occur; again, IMHO.  

Russia?  Pish-tosh!  Putin's greedy eyes are upon a warm-water port.  The USA media is creating a smokescreen to hide the Sino intent.

Now, argue with my statements and back up your arguments with facts.  Or agree, if you do.

PT Jack, the Neanderthal

Snippet

Kith and Kin Everywhere,

After some 20 to 25 years of successfully sending Snippets of life in the Arid-Zona desert along with harangues, raves and rants, some robotic idiot decided to label me as a Spammer.  Without fanfare or warnings Jack's Pack was obliterated and my e-mail account scourged from Cyberspace.

Homer and Hardee, our two resident roadrunners, have been replaced, apparently, by two young ones.  Unnamed as yet, one is bold as brass demanding meatballs that I place on a platter at my feet.  The other one is timid, remains atop the patio wall and wants its meatball to be placed on a scrap of sandstone.          Or are they one with differing behaviors depending on a mood?         Only roadrunners know!

Anyway, Marquita has set me up with a blogspot into which you may tap at your convenience -- or not.  'Sup to you.

Hey! Here's Jack's first post!

Kith and Kin Everywhere,

Welcome to JackandMarlene's new method of communication -- UNTIL some knothead somewhere decides to shut us up.

IF I WERE TO WRITE A NOVEL . . .

If I were to write a novel of intrigue, shadow governments, conspiracies and geopolitical machinations, here’s a sort of outline or framework upon which I might hang the story as it unfolds.  Basing such a novel around my own life experiences would or might give it some credence.  We’ll call the Big Bugaboo, Big Brother, the Dark Side, the Shadow Government or simply THE SYSTEM.

Perhaps it might begin with a martinet high school English teacher with the apropos alias of Mr. Martin finding a moldable recruit in one of his high school classes and developing that recruit into a tool as a writer of analytical reports for The System at some future date.  This “hero” without portfolio actually was just being groomed as one of many small pieces of machinery in large world-directing cabal.  He had been pushed through school rapidly, graduating from high school while only 16.

The foundation of this fictional novel could have been reinforced during a war that interrupted the timeline.  This small writing tool in the major scheme of things surfaced once again when he, as an unseasoned 17-year-old Navy petty officer, volunteered for a secret assignment with the O.S.S.  That agency being the forerunner of the nefarious CIA, put the spotlight on him once again even though his lack of maturity barred him from his quest.  He was firmly parked for futures roles in The System.

Following World War II, during the latter of which he asked for assignment to the super-secret Underwater Demolition Teams and Scouts and Raiders; The System’s spotlight briefly located him once again.

Hanging around as a drilling Reservist, he was called upon to serve varying amounts of extended active duty five different times, one of which was the Cuban Missile Crisis on October 26, 1962.  Our “hero” was recalled once again to active duty now as a Chief Petty Officer and eventually assigned as a recruiter for the USNR programs in Reno, Nevada.  His superiors demanded that he return to college to earn a degree.  The System was directing his future.

After being promoted to Senior Chief, he was reassigned to his “hometown” of Bakersfield, California, to reinforce the recruitment of Reservists.  During his non-duty hours, he pursued classes and received his degree cum laude in History and began graduate studies in Geography.  It was during this period that he was sent on various extra assignments out of the area for short terms.

Once again promoted, this time to Master Chief Gunner’s Mate, he was ordered to San Diego to head up the recruiting office for veterans to reenlist in the Navy Reserves.  His particular focus was to be enrolling Special Warfare sailors, SEALs, UDT, Special Boats, Inshore Undersea Warfare whose enlistment had expired to reenlist into a drilling unit.

   

Completing his Master’s studies in the Military Aspects of Global Geography, he left active duty after receiving a Community College Credential in Earth Sciences to pursue a civilian career. 

He transitioned once again to a drilling Reservist, this time as Command Master Chief of Inshore Undersea Warfare Team 11-3, a quasi-hush-hush unit attached to the Navy’s Special Warfare Command, a sort of hazy outfit of Navy Special Warfare with the one assigned task of defending remote harbors or landing zones that were kept in the shadows.  The System had him firmly encapsulated within its fold; about which he remained unaware.  IUW was comprised of a group of individual mobile, self-sustaining teams, it was under the control of the Commander, Special Warfare, even through its transition from a Regular Navy unit to a Reserve component.

However, our imaginary hero simultaneously was seeking a civilian job; reluctantly he had to reject teaching due to the extremely low pay.  After serving briefly as a County Public Information Officer, he was appointed as the Deputy Director of Public Education and Training of San Diego County’s Office of Civil Defense.

Temporarily promoted as acting Director of Civil Defense of the cities and County of San Diego, he presided over the transition imposed by President Jimmy Carter from a community-based Civil Defense to a bureau of report-takers labelled Federal Emergency Management Agency, our character resigned his County post to form his own consulting firm.

Our main character’s dual life as a civilian-sailor, found him still a drilling Reservist, had been serving as Command Master Chief of a mixed Regular/Reserve special boat unit, one of two each attached to the Pacific and Atlantic Fleets.  He was transferred to Command Master Chief of the Group under which the various IUW-teams served.  He found that under various guises, the USNR small, mobile teams were spending their 2-week periods of active duty for training in such obscure Red Sea locales as the Jordanian port of Aqaba and Port Sudan, both on the Red Sea.

He, as a “weekend warrior,” was dispatched by elements of The System to such spots as Subic Bay and the isolated Indian Ocean island of Diego Garcia for two-weeks of special warfare assignments.  Finally, he was transferred for his one-weekend-a-month duty to Navy Special Warfare Group ONE, the command to which all SpecWar units in the Pacific Fleet reported.  His billet was that of November 7 (Plans) which usually a Commander or O-5’s job, although he remained an E-9 or Master Chief.

As he was approaching sixty, he was in sight of his mandatory retirement, he was asked by someone in The System one more time to return to active duty, this time as “Pacific Fleet Subject Matter Expert in Counter-Terrorism.”  Although requested by the Commander, Pacific Fleet, to remain on active duty two more years beyond age 60, he opted to retire, frustrated by working with civilian Educational Specialists.

Upon retiring, he was offered a Civil Service GS-11 slot at Fleet Training Center, San Diego, as a Navy Instructor teaching “Counter-Terrorism Planning for Pacific Fleet Commanding Officers and Executive Officers.”  After a couple of years at that job, he resigned to coach NROTC rifle teams until he decided to move to a lonely desert community where he might write a historical novel about his family.  It was something that was demanding to be allowed out of his mental processes

.

As with life in general, “the best laid plans of mice and . . . !

That family history novel now decades later is still unwritten, but, instead, our hero simply could not put those 56-years in uniform behind him.  He has been writing snippets of wonderful retired life as enjoyed by his fabulous wife and he -- a desert-dwelling elderly couple.  He has interspersed those snippets with “raves, rants and harangues” concerning geopolitics in the Global Politick.  He has attracted a large following of a couple of hundred folks.

He and his wife retired to a small desert town to enjoy warmth and sunshine.

And now our story shifts to a novel of a shadow government with intentions of a New World Order of elitists laid out in the shadows of Brave New World and 1984, both of which dealt with global governance.

The System wrote him off as retired and no longer of value.

THEN! 

One of The Delvers of No Such Agency, an old-timer who remembered our character and wondered how he was fairing and if he were still alive, decided to look in on our hero.  The Delver spread the alarm that not only was he alive and well, but he was blogging to hundreds in reference to:

The revelations about Communist China’s long-range plans for World Domination began to unfold as our principal character was snooping about – on line – with foreign newspapers and such.  His long interest in history, in geography, in cultural anthropology coupled with his “religion,” which is his patriotic love of the United States of America, this guy began to conjecture about OBOR.

OBOR is the acronym for the One Belt One Road Initiative by the Chi-Coms and its President Xi Jinping.  It is actually a 21^st Century version of Marco Polo’s fabled Silk Road, hence its other name of The New Silk Road.

In retirement, let’s give him a name.  Let his name be Peter Tare.  Peter renewed his interest and education in Military Geography, Cultural Anthropology and Geopolitics and that led him to probe the realm of global stratagems of the Chinese Communist nation.  Leaving America’s Fourth Estate out of the equation as being maneuvered by a secret Dark Government, he sought information in foreign presses such as China’s Xinhua and India’s New Delhi Times.

Peter found that the Radisson Hotel chain of holdings is now China-owned.  Peter has been researching the Web (everything can be found on the Web) and writing analyses of his findings to the many members of Peter’s Pack, a large collection of his friends and their friends.  The System didn’t like the publicity.

The Radisson, based in Minnetonka, MN, goes back to 1909 when it was founded, but the Chinese have purchased the company with their eyes upon creating hotels across Central Asia, the Middle East and Africa.  Might Hilton follow suit as Communist China is glutted with U.S. dollars being infused to buy consumer goods once made domestically and now imported from the Far East?

As Peter ruminated to his large audience of Peter’s Pack about the acceleration of the New Silk Road, The System’s monitors were alerted.  It seemed that Peter had found a connection between The System's goal of a New World Order, a One World ruled by Progressive Elitists and the Chinese Communists.

Was the New World Order to be Communist?  Or would Communism be subdued by a world oligarchy?

PT Jack's New Adventure!

Welcome to my newest adventure!