Rusty runs off the rails …
The road not taken …
… And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back. …
Robert Frost, the Road not Taken.
A reflective morning descended on me as I read and re-read this poem of Frosts. Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back.
I usually don’t talk about the voices in my head. Bat-kol is the term for the types of voices I occasionally hear. They are often full of portent. Around 1999, I was startled by the clang of a metal door being slammed shut, and a male voice saying, “We will not pass this way again”.
Normally, when I get one of these bat-kols, it is a woman’s voice I hear. However, three times in my life it was a mans voice I heard. Frequently when that happens, it appears to signify an immediate event. Yet, this one appeared to be more of a bad omen than one denoting a specific event.
The years following that omen we had a number of startling earth events. Huge hurricanes, typhoons, tsunami’s, bitter freezes and such. Not that they are infrequent in terms of geologic time, and if that were all that it was, I would dismiss the weather driven events as better world reportage.
But coupled to those events is a more subtle worry. Nations are losing their anchors, again. Once again, civilization rises up against civilization. Corruption in our own (US) government at the highest levels is systemic and incurable. A new wave of Muslim aggression has arisen. It will only be quelled by a xenophobic reaction, and the vast majority of today’s effete non-Muslims have no stomach for the fight and prefer vapid platitudes to actually having to do something right. The jihadists got it right, and we deserve what we are going to receive from their hands.
The only bright spot in all this is that history shows that the effete academic intellectuals are the first ones to be decapitated after a revolution. Tyrants know who the confused troublemakers are. I wish I could live long enough to stand in the crowd and cheer Allah’s little executioners on with each swing of the axe. Nevertheless, I suspect that the proverbial frog in the slowly simmering pot, it is going to take a decade or better to slowly cook itself to death, and I doubt that I have that many miles left on life’s odometer. Pity.
Bring on the Ragnarok!
Another nun slaughtered for Allah!
Rusty's Armory 