“It is a fearful thing to fall into the
hands of the living God.”
Hebrews 10:31

I had a dream last night in which I was in a military special forces group with Vladimir Putin.  He was the only well-known person in the group, but he wasn't leading it in any way.  He was just part of the unit.

We were tasked with rappelling into a deep ravine.  It was a harrowing mission, full of risks, and the team had to summon their courage to begin.  It wasn't routine.  Nobody wanted to be there.  Nobody wanted to do it.

There were no other nationalities on the team, no Asians, no Arabs, just Slavic/Caucasian people, presumably Russians and people from Eastern Europe.  One guy was having a meltdown, and was screaming as though he was being asked to rappel into the pits of hell.  It was unbearable.  We were waiting for the go-ahead, and this guy just couldn't control himself.  He sounded like he was being torn apart by lions while being burned alive.  It didn't help.  Everybody was tense, and at their breaking point.  It was a bad way to start a mission.  People were obviously dealing with their fear, and this guy was just making it worse.

Eventually, one of the guys on the team snapped.  He picked up 2 rusty screws and brought them over to the guy who was screaming.  He knelt beside him and spoke in a tense, desperate way that communicated the extreme gravity of the situation.  He said, "If you don't shut up, I'm going to drive these screws into your eyes."  He paused, then said, "Am I being clear?"  The screaming man got ahold of himself and nodded his head.  It was obviously not protocol to drive rusty screws into the eyes of a team member in the middle of a meltdown, but the stakes were high and the conditions were extreme.  Nobody protested or tried to stop him.

In fact, the "rusty screw man" brought the team together in a way that transcended any mere military oath.  Nobody wanted to be there anyway; the mission was unprecedented, dangerous, and would probably damage the souls of everyone involved, for life.  But it was necessary.  Now in control of himself, the screaming man joined the group at the edge of the cliff.  There was a real fear that someone (in the group?) had sabotaged the ropes, had cut them too short, so that the team would be left dangling over the pits of hell without any recourse.  But assurances were made, and the faith the group had in itself was unassailable.  Everyone was committed.  It wasn't a blood oath.  It was an oath of fire.  We were going to complete the mission, and nothing else mattered.  Nothing was going to get in our way.

Nothing.

We began our descent, and made it to a flat space.  Not quite to the bottom, but part of the way down.  On it, a family was hogtied, with clear packing tape over their mouths.  It was a white family, and I got the impression that they symbolized America.  Partially because the only person who was allowed to speak was the woman.  It was one of the reasons the family was bound and gagged.  But the woman had somehow broken free of her gag, and was pleading with me to let them go.  Her hands were still tied, but she could talk.  She was pleading with me.  There was nothing smug, prideful, or self-righteous in her tone.  She wasn't chastising me for being a white male.  Those days were over.  There were no more Karens in the world, anywhere at all.  The woman was terrified, and desperate.

But the group had become committed, loyal to itself in ways that transcended and surpassed any normal military bond.  I landed on the flat space, and walked around the American family to secure the area.  I barely registered them.  The woman pleaded with me, and all I said to her was, "It isn't going to happen."  I had the same tone as rusty screw man, and there was nothing sympathetic or glib about it.  It was pure, infernal business.  Her pleas were useless.  She was no longer valid.  She didn't exist.

We secured the platform, and the team gathered at the edge, to continue their descent.

Then I woke up.

There are many facets on the diamond of fate, that infernal, dirty gem, gleaming in the window of the jewelry store of eternity.  Some of them are spiritual, some of them are secular.  There's a Christian guy on YouTube who thinks Donald Trump is the Antichrist.  Smart guy, not an ideologue or pontificating blowhard.  But a serious, studied Christian, who is believable in large part because his videos don't circle around one topic like vultures around the same dead horse, over and over, and over again.  I disagree with him about Trump, but then again, who knows?

The interview by Patrick Bet-David pasted above is one of the most compelling feature-length interviews I've ever seen.  I clicked on it, and before I knew it, an hour and a half had passed.  It made me want to come back to the United States tomorrow.  Tomorrow, in fact, is the 4-year anniversary of the day I crossed the border.  I left before the 2020 election, because I didn't think it would matter who won.  Even then, I was surprised at the brazen manner in which it was stolen.  And here we are again.

Is it going to be different this time?

My dream last night was horrible, and I believe it is symbolic of a nuclear war.  Some half-gringo guy here, fluent in both Spanish and English actually expressed the view that Kamala Harris was a better choice than "that other guy, you know, the clown."  Don't you think so?  I told him that I like Trump, but that the world is post-political.  We were in the midst of a bunch of working guys, talking pointless nonsense in a good way, and I didn't get the opportunity to finish my thought.  My response sounded like a cop-out, and I will explain it in more detail, next time I see him.

It isn't a cop-out.  The world is post-political, and while I'd love nothing more than to cross back into the U.S. with my crazy, John Connor tail between my legs tomorrow, in fact I think the stakes have never been higher, and that disaster has never been more imminent.  As this depiction of Putin wresting artificial bears clearly indicates.

Whatever happens, if you're one of the social termites pouring corrosive ideologies on the foundation of freedom that allows you to be a screeching, pontificating nitwit in the first place, know that your days are seriously numbered.  Your purpose will have been served once total instability and chaos is achieved, and the chance you will survive an hour beyond the event horizon of the nightmare is very, very low.  You will have destroyed the trust and faith in you from people on all sides, and will discover that 4+ years of painting a target on your back was a fatal, ignorant mistake.  The diamond of fate will come crashing down on you like a heavy, hateful ideology, and your existence from the history of the world will be erased.

That goes for Karens too.  Even though you wasted it on ingratitude and perpetual dissatisfaction, you had a good run.  I hope you enjoyed it.  But your reign of disgrace is almost over.  It will never return.

If you're not a social termite, but resemble one, align yourself with like-minded outcasts as soon as you can, if you haven't already (I'm sure you have).  Straight, American white men are among the toughest people on the planet.  Their souls have been hardened by years of dismissive, hateful abuse.  Their benevolent well-meaning has been wasted on smug, ungrateful abusers, and their hearts have become statues of purpose and indifference.  When the purpose of the abusers has been served, they will be disposed of.  The controllers (Satan, actually) are counting on it.  It will happen.  The morons on Tik-Tok flaunting their weaponry like termites at a clown show will resemble a field of dandelions, cut to pieces by the buzzing, high-capacity breeze of a deaf, indifferent minigun.  The pride of the entitled, whining termites will come face-to-face with the diamond of fate, and they will not survive.  Even if the wife manages to break free of the gag, no one will listen.

If that's you, when you get to hell, remember:

You asked for it.

It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God.  The military special-ops group in my dream knew it.  Putin knew it, probably knows it.  Trump maybe too.  Harris?  Please.  Walz?  Get real.  The people who control them?  Stop insulting my intelligence.  But nevermind them.

What about you?

“For whosoever shall call upon the name
of the Lord shall be saved.”
Romans 10:13

As they say in Spanish, "To God."

Good luck.