Prions - Chapter 16 Toss

— But, not today. No today I decide to let it ride. Today I decide to trust; To allow armed men I do not know, handcuff me, an unarmed man, for the crime of sleeping. From behind me an officer yells, “Hands!” just after I begin to stand. I smile. They have no idea what could have been. Slowly, under their stern commands, I raise my hands over my head; rotate 360 degrees; plant myself face-down in the sand; hands resting on the back of my head.

“Do you have any weapons on your person or in the tent?”

“No sir.” I reply.

“Do you have any drugs?”

“No sir.”

“Are you intoxicated, high, or under the influence of any substance?”

“No sir.”

They cuff me, without being rough. As I sit and watch, they search my tent without asking permission. It’s probably an illegal search, and by not protesting, I’m probably further eroding our Constitutional protections. I want to ask if the search is legal, but decide: why? What difference does it make?

I analyze the dynamics of their police procedure and decide: it was impossible for me to close my tent door, and, at the same time, comply with their lawful instructions. Can’t: ‘put your hands up,’ AND, shut the door, at the same time. Therefore, I left the door to my dwelling wide open; as such, it was within the New-World-Order-gestapo’s legal rights to search my domicile.

I also decide that technically, since the tent itself was used in a crime against the state — the ‘vehicle’ as to which I trespassed onto public sand — public sand? Government sand. But isn’t America a republic? In a republic, don’t the people own the government? Don’t the people therefore own the sand?

The police could probably confiscate said ‘vehicle’ used in a crime and impound it as evidence. They could slice open my sleeping bag to look for drugs. They could shoot me, then plant a gun on my person. Best to keep my mouth shut. Wish I had a cigarette right about now.

I sit and watch my fellow American citizens, who happen to wear badges, ‘toss’ my tent, not literally; No. The prison definition of ‘toss’: prison guards invade an inmate’s entire cell; search through everything — everything — looking for illegal weapons, contraband, etc– I don’t mean toss like to toss a ball, or to toss a salad — oh just had a nasty thought — there’s another prison meaning of the word toss — To ‘toss another’s salad’ according to Chris Rock is to perform anal-lingus using either jelly or syrup; Chris Rock prefers syrup.

My tent is being tossed. Zero respect. Zero regard. Zero — a prison inmate has no rights, nor should they, but when did America become so — what’s the word? So odiously fascist? I’ve never committed a crime, never — not even a traffic violation — why treat me, a fellow citizen who simply chose not to become a cop, this way? They do not have hereditary privilege! They are not a superior class, a superior caste — In a republic, police are just citizens, period. In our republic they act like they are a protected class, a brotherhood of thugs. The rich rarely deal with them, rarely. When was it voted on that police, men who are just citizen volunteers, can treat other citizens like this? Guess I missed that vote.

I ain’t a tree-hugger, a worthless ACLU-card-carrying lib-tard by any means. I know police have a job to do, a difficult one, so I accept a certain amount of command presence. Basic dog-psychology, project enough strength to make others piss themselves with fear; this keeps the potential for violence, backtalk, and confrontation at a minimum — or so the theory goes. But I’m not the one to treat this way, no. They have created an equal and opposite reaction — like the scientific theory goes — although not yet. Someday. Someday they will experience my wrath, and the wrath of their fellow citizens — it won’t be pretty, but they did it to themselves. They asked for it; created it; demanded it.

As they toss my tent, I sit handcuffed, docile — indian-style — eyes closed. I can’t watch, it’s making me too angry. I belly breathe. Inhale the good energy; exhale the bad. I see him now, bright blue eyes, stern face; black-leather-Hugo-Boss-designed-Nazi-SS-trench-coat, black rimmed hat with its trademark SS skull-and-crossbones insignia, thick-german accent — he barks in German, “Papers please!”

I open my eyes. Hear the waves crash in the distance behind me. It’s dark and warm. Gotta be about 1:40. They’re still raping my tent. All my possessions now embedded in the beach sand, neatly in a line to the right of my tent, as if they were arranging a photo-op for some major Mexican-drug-lord black-tar heroin bust. Sleeping bag; PRION; lantern; emptied back pack; socks; underwear; tennis shoes; jeans; shorts; T-shirts; hoodie; cheap sunglasses; toiletries; chapstick — One of the cops hands me my wallet, gruffly he barks a question, “Got your ID on you?!”

Wow. Just had an epiphany. Nazis required papers to travel from place to place, American police agencies require papers just to breathe American air. The vision of being forced to present papers to the Nazi SS, in order to board a train, is repugnant to every American; yet, try entering an airplane in modern America. Entering an airplane requires a state issued ID, tied to a database. When TSA swipes your drivers license, the computer pulls up your file — this tells the TSA agent what he needs to know, in order to allow your passage, (or detain you.) In essence, by carrying a modern ID in America, you are effectively and voluntarily carrying a huge file-cabinet, filled with all your history from birth. Picture that.

Of course the individual-TSA-agent doesn’t read your entire-file, too-much information — others have already read your file, determined if you are a potential threat. They’ve recorded and listened to all your phone calls, read all your emails, all your Facebook posts, all your Tweets — all your Google searches — They know what you look like, where you live, what you drive, how much money you have in the bank, what you buy, who your friends are, whether you own a gun, your religious beliefs, your political beliefs; they know your cell-phone number, which uses GPS, so they know where you are pretty-much 24/7; they can access your cell-phone camera and microphone at-will, and still, after all that detailed scrutiny, they still place you in an x-ray machine and view your naked-body. If you refuse TSA’s naked-body-scan; they grope your genitals. Nice.

I answer the officer, “Can’t get my ID out for you handcuffed.”

“I’ll get it for you. Do I have your permission?”

“Sure. Officer.” As if you need my permission.

The po-po digs through my wallet now, glancing at my health-club membership, Stop and Shop card — There it is. Bingo. He snaps my ID onto his metal clipboard, then drops my wallet onto my lap. He holds up a finger letting me know he’ll be right back with my ID.

Around the mid 1920s, a new-invention began to proliferate worldwide, the modern socialist-regime and tethered modern police-state. Every nation on Earth became this — a police state — or were conquered by nations that did. Why? Why did every nation on Earth become a police state? Efficiency and power. A police-state is the current state-of-the-art government; nothing can compete with it. A police-state allows heavy taxation, far-beyond what was possible before. This huge amount of money allows a state to hire and train multiple armies: administrative, police, spies, soldiers, etc — Additionally, the police state’s bottomless-coffers allow for massive public-projects: the moon-shot, the internet, science, medicine, research and development, a permanent arms-industry, damns, roads, “education”, bridges —

A fully-functional police-state can not be overthrown from within. Remember that. It’s important to know that. So, if a police-state gets out of control, or is controlled by the wrong leadership: the citizens will suffer. Everyone knows about the death-camps in Nazi Germany, but roundups and internment-camps like this have occurred in many police-states. In The US, we had camps for Japanese, Italian and German immigrants during WW2, and more recently for around a thousand Muslims after a post-911 roundup.

When a police-state is threatened from within, the state compiles a list; rounds-up thousands, then ships them-off in a few hours. Many second-amendment advocates believe the right to bear arms gives Americans security from tyranny; it comforts them to think that if our government ever got out of control, they could simply push the Jeffersonian reset-button. The truth: after the FBI was created in the 20s, violent overthrow of The U.S. from within became impossible.

The second amendment makes some feel reassured, but in-reality, the government has the information and manpower to shut down any insurrection before it could start. They control the communications, the electricity, the minds, the databases, the army, navy, air-force, police, predator drones, press — they know everything. Having a loaded firearm in your house just means that instead of swat busting down your door, with flash-bang grenades at 3 AM — from multiple points-of-entry — instead, because a citizen is armed, they simply burn the house down like in WACO.

Police-states are reality; the new-normal, they are here to stay. If The U.S. didn’t evolve to become a police-state, another police-state, either the Nazis, the Soviets, or the Mafia, would have conquered us from within. Thank God for America’s functional police-state! The alternative would be worse! We never got to vote on becoming a police-state, so constitutional advocates, civil libertarians, long-for the “good-old days”. Those days are gone forever. I have no issue with The U.S. becoming a police-state — like I said, we had no choice, it happened; it’s done; it’s installed; it’s not going anywhere. Overthrow it, the new-bosses would be forced to immediately recreate the FBI, CIA, IRS, DIA, DEA, etc — Why bother? Would the new boss be any better than the old?

It’s highly-likely elections are no-longer valid; that a dictatorship already exists; that our-president is an image; our press is controlled; the true dictator or more-likely oligarchy is unseen. America is a National-Socialist country. More capitalist than Nazi-Germany, but still socialist enough to keep a functional police-state.

Democracy is overrated, what matters is individual rights: foremost property-rights. You can still function and make a living in America. The Furai does not seek to overthrow the existing police-state, instead, our goal is to infiltrate and influence, slowly — make our American police-state dictatorship more-efficient, less-obtrusive, and resume rapid technological-growth and prosperity. This is what matters! Low taxes, freedom, the pursuit of happiness — Democracy is mob rule, a mob can take away your life, liberty, and property faster than any dictator.

How would we change such a system if need be? Every nation on Earth is a police state, America the biggest and most efficient. We had to evolve after 1917, or be destroyed from within. What if our police state became impossible to accept? What if we had to change it? Could we do it?

The officer returns with my ID, puts it back in my wallet where it was. They’re finished tossing my tent. One by one, the officers all leave, except Mahoney, who removes my hand-cuffs. “You’re free to go now Evan. You can’t stay here.”

“I got no place to go Mahoney.”

“Not my problem.”

“Yah, it kinda is your problem. You see, since I don’t care if you put me in jail, you really don’t have any leverage over me.”

“WTF Evan? You’ve got no record, just go home would you?”

“No. I don’t have a home.”

“Call a friend.”

“I don’t want to burden anyone.”

“You’re burdening me.”

“That’s what they pay you for.”

“Are you telling me to arrest you?”

“That’s your choice. I got a better idea though. Let’s make a deal.”

“I’m listening.”

“Let me stay here a few nights, I promise I won’t leave my lantern on again; I’ll be gone before anyone can see me in the morning, I’ll pitch tent after dark — you won’t even know I’m here –”

“Do you know why we searched your stuff? Do you know why we had our guns drawn tonight?”

“No.”

“There was a murder last night in Hull. Susan Amsted, live-in girlfriend and for all intents and purposes, the wife of the late John Mitchell. She was probably the wealthiest individual in town. People are spooked Evan, they want to know who did this.

Someone gained her trust, entered her home without coercion, then killed her and her-armed-personal-assistant-slash-bodyguard execution style — It looks like a professional hit.

See all those million dollar homes up there overlooking the beach? What do you think happens to people who live in a home like that, when they discover their richest neighbor was just murdered?

I’ll tell you what happens, they freak the fuck out. They begin questioning everything. Their whole world-view changes, their behavior changes, their lives change. They want answers. They want things to go back to the way they were before this murder, and in time it will, but for now, they are terrified.

And here you are, some asshole in a lit up tent illegally camping on the beach — a fucking homeless vagrant — What do you think would happen to me if they found out I gave you permission to stay here? Under these circumstances?”

“You’d be reprimanded.”

“Exactly.”

“Anyway Mahoney, you can take me to jail or walk away, I ain’t leaving –”

“Fuck you Evan.”

“I’ll be gone in a few days, I promise.”