About anarchy

I was a film and TV director. Frequently, daily, hourly, minute by minute, I told people what to do. The best directors perceive what others can do (or can't do). I negotiated, but just as often I challenged them to stretch a little. Everyone does this in grocery stores, or driving a car on a busy street, or dealing with your family. We navigate a parking lot, find a nice cut of meat, choose which brand of cereal to take home. Price matters. Sometimes it's negotiable, especially buying a used car or a house, deciding which job to take (or quit), how much to bid at an auction. I was delighted to get a pine day bed in perfect condition for $5 at a furniture auction, because no one else bid for it. Sometimes it's difficult to get what you want. Please eat your spinach, honey. It's full of iron for healthy red blood cells.

All of these transactions, on a film set or at the family dinner table, are practical aspects of private anarchy, absolutely no government involved. There are some principles of law in the background, most of them physical. Unless you're over six feet tall and nimble, forget about playing competitive basketball. No matter how angry you are, cursing a stalled truck with a dead battery won't start it. Employment can be frustrating at times, hamstrung by rules or a lazy coworker, a manager who's deaf to suggestions, a client who changes her mind halfway through a job. How we deal with adversity and fatigue is a measure of our fitness to live. I was considerably less fit than others. No man is perfectly suited to all situations, but we're free to say phooey! and concentrate on strengthening our strengths. The responsibility of anarchy impels men to study, dream, explore, dare, fail, try again, and succeed in ways that others don't. They're busy building themselves as separate souls, a basic human right.

Legislation forces everyone to conform. Or rebel, which tens of millions of Americans do all the time. Liberty is a tradition with thick deep roots, all the way back to Patrick Henry, who led the fight in Virginia to reject the new U.S. Constitution. He almost succeeded, lost by six votes, 79-89. His descendants recently rallied in defense of the 2nd Amendment, thousands of armed men surrounding the statehouse. It's not an exclusively American phenomenon. British skinhead patriots fought police to stop Black Lives Matter from defacing or toppling national monuments in Westminster.

Law enforcement is selective and weak. It's impossible to regulate road rage in Los Angeles, narcotics in Philadelphia, or homicide in Chicago. Police and National Guard couldn't control riots and looting in 1968 or 1992 or 2020. Law and order is mostly voluntary, something that people do by themselves. Half of the American electorate doesn't vote and don't care what happens in Albany or Sacramento, a bicoastal conspiracy of liars and dunces. They bought guns and ammo, and they're voting with their feet, because cities are no longer affordable, fun, safe, or economically necessary. Cops are quitting, and those on duty are making fewer arrests. Tens of thousands of families have fled New York City.

Anarchy is inextinguishable. No one can force you to love someone, or do the right thing, or do the wrong thing to appease LGBT attorneys. When Target allowed men to use women's rest rooms and changing rooms, thousands of women boycotted the chain. People vote with their feet. They risk their lives to escape Guatemala and enter the U.S. illegally.

Patriots are few, patrolling the world to deter China and Russia, manning missile silos and nuclear submarines. Money can't buy their loyalty. Every good on earth is voluntary. Some of it is fatal. All of it is difficult, like raising a family and protecting your innocent children from government indoctrination, predatory urban animals, seductive internet filth, and drugs.

The only antidote to peril is independence, personal choice.

Forget about racism, political machinations, media headlines, tragedy, and fancy ideas. The meaning of private anarchy is simple. You're free to pursue your own happiness, to thrive as an individual, to care for your family and provide for the future. Declare independence.

The forces arrayed against Donald Trump are extremely powerful, including swing votes in the Senate and distinguished military figures. The possibility of a coup is no longer remote or hypothetical. Crisis serves the interests of vultures like George Soros, who made his fortune betting against the Bank of England. If constitutional government is suspended, whether by military coup, or civil disorder, or a rigged election in November, it will not alter the truth of private anarchy and personal responsibility for the safety of your loved ones. Those who can think independently and sidestep mass hysteria are pioneer citizen heroes devoted to the principles of American life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

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Blood shift

Krautzer and I never spoke to each other. He got up and, armed with a flask of coffee and a pack of cigarettes, I sat down to sign in. It was already a busy night, four units in action, which I monitored a few minutes before I took over. I hated weekends.

"Seven polecat," the radio said.

"Seven," I acknowledged.

"Maintenance arrived at 3355 Union. Situation quiet."

I glanced at the map that was evoked by his transmission. No reason to take chances. "Seven polecat remain on scene and cover. I'll relieve you as quick as I can."

"Seven copy," he replied.

I lifted the cover and touched the All Channel button. "Twenty-one oh one, R.A.C.C."

Coffee would have to wait. "Night units to district loops. Day shift dismissed, except Seven polecat, Nine alpha, Center one and Center two. Nine alpha, report your status."

"Waiting for P.D., 6300 block of Farleigh. Request backup."

The nearest unit had just saddled up. "Sharp five, 6300 block of Fairleigh, code 2. Meet Nine alpha on Tac 1."

"Sharp five wilco."

The mess downtown bothered me. "Center one, what's the situation?"

"We're still tied up with P.D. and directing traffic."

Shit. "Can you release Center two?"

"Uh ... okay. Maybe ten minutes or so. Center one."

The customer board yelped at me.

"Nine strong, silent alarm at Western Supply, 601 South River, code 1."

He acknowledged, and I debated sending a second car, but resisted the impulse. Nine strong had enough firepower to deal with whatever the situation might be, and if the shot locator tripped, I could get another unit on scene fairly quick. I called the customer, told him not to respond until we had control of whatever was happening, and had to hang up abruptly.

"...backup! Officer down!"

The shot locator flashed red at 3355 Union. I vectored the drone: "Armed support to 3355 Union. Be advised civilian maintenance people on scene." Policy dictated that I had to report a shooting incident to the cops. Not now. "Six buster, six falcon, 3355 Union, code three." They acknowledged in turn. I briefed the EMS dispatcher, requested that he deploy two units to a safe position, 35th and Lafayette, until I signaled on their tactical channel to proceed. The shot locator was rattling, five or six map jogs. I described the situation to the drone operator, ordered him to take out the brick building and adjacent vacant lot at 3367 Union, be aware that two District Six units were converging, code three, use stun shots, and be damn careful not to hit our people or nonactors by mistake.

The clock was running and I had to notify the police. I scanned the directory for Southwest, identified myself, described the activity, and suggested that they delay responding until we had control of the situation. The station commander was pissed off, aware of what we were doing, monitoring my dispatch channel. No point in apologizing. I disconnected abruptly
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With the drone on location, I started getting fuzzy bodycam relays, one of them an unmoving cockeyed image of the pavement. Officer down. Tactical chatter among the others and then a series of flash bang shots to take out a knot of gang bangers.
"Six buster, Seven polecat, say your situtation."

"This is falcon. Two men down. Buster and Ritchie from polecat are holding a perimeter. We need EMS, right now, god damn it!"

I released the medics to roll, sickened by what had happened. Eight hours to go, and in the first fifteen minutes of my shift I had two men down and three units out of action. When the cops showed up, they'd pour molasses over everything. Might be more than a few bangers wounded, blinded, or deceased. I had to call Legal.

A few seconds to light a cigarette, unscrew my thermos and pour a cup of coffee.

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Videos

In case of national emergency, break glass and distribute.

https://vimeo.com/user66655576