Out Of The Past 2

Barricades, Explained

November 26, 2008
5:04 AM CDT

In a long-ago discussion in Comments, I made the statement that if I had my preference, I’d like to die either asleep in my wife’s arms, or else on the barricades.

I think I’d better explain the latter, because someone may get the wrong impression, and I’d hate that to happen.

Although I’ve started to look like a Frenchman and am descended from the French, most Gallic qualities have long since been burned off by the passage of generations. Most especially, the need for le geste magnifique, mais inutile (the magificent, but futile, gesture) has long ago been purged from my psyche.

So don’t expect me to rush to the barricades when The Glorious Day comes, AK clutched in wrinkled grasp, with ringing exhortations coming from my lips.

I am uncomfortable in the role of “revolutionary leader”. I’m not a rabble rouser, or an agitator. I seek not to form an army, or an underground movement, or any kind of Maquis. I don’t care about glory, or notoriety, or any of that nonsense. I am, quite simply, a man who will go so far, and no further, and who will resist oppression without fanfare, without recognition, and without a qualm.

I am also not a terrorist, or “freedom fighter”, and I will never engage in any activities which are proactive against Our Enemy, The State.

may, however, choose to resist, in a manner of my own choosing, because I have various boundaries, personal boundaries, which may or may not be the same as those of others.

So my “barricade” would be a lot simpler, and a lot more personal.

It could be at my doorstep, when agents of the State come to confiscate my suddenly-illegal guns.

It could be in a court of law, when I am forced to choose between paying a fine for disobeying an unjust law, and going to prison. (It will, I promise you, be the latter.)

It could be when the State tries to confiscate or trespass on my property.

It could be when the State threatens my family.

It could be when the State tries to load me, or any other “undesirables”, into the cattle cars (real, or metaphysical).

It could be when an agent of the State demands “Papieren, bitte” and I show them my tattoo instead.

It could be when I am restricted in, or forbidden to exercise my freedom of speech, or any of the other freedoms enumerated in the Constitution and the Bill of Rights. I will decide what constitutes “reasonable” when it comes to restrictions thereon, and not some Congressman, lawyer, judge, policeman or government bureaucrat.

Just like Nock before me, I’m not intent on “setting an example”, or influencing others, or making a splash of any kind. Those who wish, may do what I do, or not. Those who wish to castigate me for my choices may do so, but it will have no effect. Those who wish to use me as an example do so without my consent or blessing, and those who expect me to “lead” them will be disappointed.

I am a quiet man, a reasonable man, but I am not nor will ever be a slave to the State. I left one country to escape that, and I will not live like that in my adopted one.

So if I die on the barricades, it may be known to others, or else just an unseen spark which flickers and dies in the darkness. Either way, I am indifferent. But it will be known to the agents of the State, I can promise you that. I will not go quietly into that dark night of oppression. It may well turn out to have been a futile gesture, but it will not be futile for me.

I may have lost most Gallic qualities, as I said earlier, but the one I have most definitely lost is the impulse to surrender.

And that’s all I’ll have to say on the topic. Ever.

6 comments

  1. Thank you. I had never seen that before. My position is very similar to yours, having been created thus far by the rigors of life, age (same as yours I believe), experience, and circumstance. I will only risk my life in defense of myself and my wife of 35 years. Everybody else can go straight to hell.

  2. Link to “my tattoo” somewhat broken — It links to a page, but the page seems to be a hosting page, not a post.

  3. One does not have to be overly vociferous or extremely animated to, shall we say, “be somewhat difficult to live with.”

  4. I don’t agree with you. The day has already come and gone. It went on February 28, 1993. Whether or not Koresh and the Branch Davidians were a bunch of comparatively harmless nuts is not a discussion I intend to get into.
    When Elián González was abducted by armed Federal agents under the direction of the United States Attorney General, Janet Reno, and returned to Cuba on Easter Eve, April 22, 2000, the day has already come and gone.
    Ask the rancher, Jack Yantis, who was murdered (shot 12 times) by Sheriff Ryan Zollman and his deputies, Brian Wood and Cody Roland on Nov. 1, 2015. The judge dismissed a federal wrongful death lawsuit which alleged nine violations of the Fourth Amendment right to due process, including wrongful death, assault and battery, and false imprisonment brought by his family.
    The cattle cars are rolling and we sit and talk about what we’re should do when they start loading us; it’s already too late: just look at the forsworn Socialists sitting in Congress, look at the fiction writers of America, the mainstream media, calling themselves “journalists” their purpose to direct the course of our country, not to report the news.
    Whoo, whoo! That’s the locomotive getting up a head of steam.

  5. I read this piece this morning and I have been thinking about it throughout the day and here is my thought. A man of my age in my 70’s will never be a run and gun guy, perhaps in my 20’s when I spent four years in the Army but not so much after that when I was not a gun guy at all. I had a few guns but I was basically a Fudd and shot every few years just to make a bit of noise. I was not until the middle of the 1990’s my gun gene kicked back in and my shooting pick up and I also acquired a few more guns.

    Now 25 years later with lots of family who are proficient gun people I have now idea what would cause a showdown where I live here in the Texas Hill Country but who knows? Perhaps there will come a day when some of us will have to stand up and say, “I’m your huckleberry.”

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