Raynine
Diamond Member
- Oct 28, 2023
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Keene standoff ends in fatal police shooting; Attorney General investigating - My Keene Now
I went out on my road bicycle last night and the air was like velvet. I needed no sunscreen, and the traffic was light after rush hour on a Friday night. The ride was uneventful, with most drivers being courteous. I mind my own business and keep to the right. Based on the community's narco medical center, I know I need to take care of my own health, and riding my bike offers some protection from the bad medicine that is ubiquitous in the pharmaceutical industrial complex—an industry that seems to make people sicker by the minute. It was mostly a good ride.
I remember when I was a runner back in the 1990s. I was finishing up my run near Beaver Street when some petty road official jumped out in front of me and told me I could not pass. I asked him why, and he would not tell me. He wore some kind of vest that identified him as a pretend cop. I thought this was weird, but I complied and turned around.
It turns out a casualty of the Great Society—where parenting is optional—had apparently tried to rob the market on the street. Keene is a Great Society city, as we all know, and that means it takes a village to raise a child. Well, one of the village people thought it was a good idea to flash a gun at a store worker. This was about thirty years ago, and liberal Keene was already well on its way to “sustainability.” Lol.
I had forgotten about that event until the other day, when the middle-aged village child demonstrated the wisdom of sustainability by firing bullets at the cops like a latter-day storm trooper from the Symbionese Liberation Army. The fifty-seven-year-old village urchin went out in a blaze of glory. How do you like “sustainability” so far?
I live a few miles south of Keene, but woke sustainability is marching my way like Stephen King’s Langoliers. It is in slow motion, but it is coming, as new supplanted citizens more obliging to sustainability will need housing. No one is fooled by the plan to populate rural areas with the dark and all-too-fitting last line of Emma Lazarus’s poem on the Statue of Liberty: “The wretched refuse of your teeming shore, Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”
In other words, they threw down the borders and turned on a light to encourage globalization and plant new-arrival replacements into the American mainstream—one that was not just too slow to comply, but actually elected a red-hat president to stop it.
I can ride my bike for a few more years, but I know the wokeness of global sustainability is headed my way. It is a personal thing for me. It is all I can do at nearly 80. I want the young—even those who do not hold my generation in high regard—to realize they have the power to keep what is good.
I went out on my road bicycle last night and the air was like velvet. I needed no sunscreen, and the traffic was light after rush hour on a Friday night. The ride was uneventful, with most drivers being courteous. I mind my own business and keep to the right. Based on the community's narco medical center, I know I need to take care of my own health, and riding my bike offers some protection from the bad medicine that is ubiquitous in the pharmaceutical industrial complex—an industry that seems to make people sicker by the minute. It was mostly a good ride.
I remember when I was a runner back in the 1990s. I was finishing up my run near Beaver Street when some petty road official jumped out in front of me and told me I could not pass. I asked him why, and he would not tell me. He wore some kind of vest that identified him as a pretend cop. I thought this was weird, but I complied and turned around.
It turns out a casualty of the Great Society—where parenting is optional—had apparently tried to rob the market on the street. Keene is a Great Society city, as we all know, and that means it takes a village to raise a child. Well, one of the village people thought it was a good idea to flash a gun at a store worker. This was about thirty years ago, and liberal Keene was already well on its way to “sustainability.” Lol.
I had forgotten about that event until the other day, when the middle-aged village child demonstrated the wisdom of sustainability by firing bullets at the cops like a latter-day storm trooper from the Symbionese Liberation Army. The fifty-seven-year-old village urchin went out in a blaze of glory. How do you like “sustainability” so far?
I live a few miles south of Keene, but woke sustainability is marching my way like Stephen King’s Langoliers. It is in slow motion, but it is coming, as new supplanted citizens more obliging to sustainability will need housing. No one is fooled by the plan to populate rural areas with the dark and all-too-fitting last line of Emma Lazarus’s poem on the Statue of Liberty: “The wretched refuse of your teeming shore, Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”
In other words, they threw down the borders and turned on a light to encourage globalization and plant new-arrival replacements into the American mainstream—one that was not just too slow to comply, but actually elected a red-hat president to stop it.
I can ride my bike for a few more years, but I know the wokeness of global sustainability is headed my way. It is a personal thing for me. It is all I can do at nearly 80. I want the young—even those who do not hold my generation in high regard—to realize they have the power to keep what is good.
