Thoughts from the ammo line

Ammo Grrrll contemplates what might be THE NATIONAL DIVORCE. She writes:

A few weeks ago, John H posted a hilarious video of the amazing and heroic Riley Gaines calmly eating cereal and not saying a word. Meanwhile, the ninny juxtaposed next to her listed all of her pronouns and neuroses in a sad attempt to be “interesting” instead of just tedious and self-obsessed. It did make one wonder, hardly for the FIRST time: “Is it time for a national divorce?” And if not now, when?

And this is a minor piffle in a world where, more importantly, Riley’s video was kicked off TikTok. Why? For a two-word “scorch” of the ninny whose last morsel of information in her verbal effluvia was that she is a “cat parent.” And Riley replied what every sane person was thinking: “Poor cat.”

THAT, my friends, is “hate speech.” Your video will be taken down because sarcasm is now illegal. Also humor. Remember the Taliban whipped people for laughing or cheering at soccer games and the flying of kites was also illegal. (Jerry Seinfeld had a bit in which he speculated that the reason for opposing kite-flying was that the “Tahl-ee-bahn” were afraid somebody would discover electricity…) But the main reason was that they were terrified that someone, somewhere was having fun. The Left has similar fears. They hate joy. Joy is White Privilege. Which is one reason why not even one of their “comedians” is funny.

MANY frustrated conservatives have opined that we are so divided now that only open civil war (which always works out great – Yugoslavia ring a bell? Rwanda? America 1861-1865?), or some kind of National Divorce will suffice.

Singer-songwriter John Hiatt has a great lyric about a personal relationship breakup in which he spells out that the breaking point came in part because “some things you can’t come back from; some things you won’t go through.” How many of us have had similar thoughts about our beloved country – that things are too far gone ever to “come back from” — or that THIS latest insult or horror is the one we “won’t go through.” But, even then, as Hiatt drives away to Asheville, he has some good memories of the relationship and enough regrets that he “almost turns back.” Amplify those regrets times 100 at the prospect of an imploded country, unrecognizable and torn to shreds.

Before we get to a cursory discussion of the extremely problematic LOGISTICS of a National Divorce, let’s just contemplate for a moment how well a REGULAR marital divorce works out. We have all seen terrible divorces where one partner is forever heartbroken (“He stopped lovin’ her today…”), one partner thrown into instant poverty, children screaming in terror as Daddy or Mommy leaves. Little kids out on the porch with their tiny suitcases waiting for the noncustodial parent to pick them up for the weekend. Who sometimes doesn’t show up.

I have just in my circle of acquaintances seen vindictive women make up charges of incestuous child abuse in order to get custody (and child support). I have witnessed the aftermath of a woman beating on a man for several minutes until he held her wrists away from him – and then having her photograph a “bruise” on her wrist to charge him as a domestic abuser. I have seen a woman pour bleach all over her ex’s prize roses — there are slashed tires and other vehicle damages and on and on up to and including murder. So just maybe “divorce” is not the ideal solution we are looking for.

Not even to mention the difficulties of which side gets the alimony from the dissolution of a 250-year “marriage” (give or take) and which side has to pay child support for some 100 million kids. And who is forced to take custody of the people from The View? “Okay, WE will take Sunny, but you guys have to take Whoopi and Joy and Anna…”

I know it’s tempting just to give the Entitled Grievance Mongers and Academic Commies the entire West Coast all the way up to Canada. It would be separated from the Red States of Flyover Land by 50 foot walls with razor wire, electricity, and moats with alligators, barracudas, and stingrays.

Then the Commie Billionaires, so fond of Communism in the abstract, can take all the coastal property (they probably already have it…) and build their OWN walls and moats to keep the icky riff-raff OUT, even while being foursquare for “sanctuary,” as long as the flotsam and jetsam come nowhere near their mansions! There can be a special, heavily guarded tunnel for the maids, landscapers, caterers, drug dealers, pricy hookers, psychiatrists, and yoga teachers to get through for work or visits.

But, hey, wait a minute – What about the people who live in “red” counties within those deep blue states? What about our own dear Professor Hayward? What about our liberal kids, our liberal friends — the ones still speaking to us – our elderly parents stuck where they are? Who gets the Army? How would taxes be collected and Social Security benefits distributed? Yeah, the whole thing is waaaay above my pay grade to figure out.

Because eventually the FREEDOM in the Flyover Part would look attractive to the people trapped in the stifling, cricket-eating, pronoun-punishing, crazy as a bedbug part. And SOME of those people would want to move to our part, if only to have another Cheeseburger. And then they would bring their stupid ideas with them, and – wait, that’s called Arizona now. And parts of Idaho, Wyoming, and Colorado.

So in the plaintive (paraphrased) words of V. I. Lenin: WTF IS TO BE DONE? It’s easy to need a long nap just thinking about it! But, hey, right on my nightstand by the bed is a brand new book written by famous novelist Max Cossack! What a coincidence! So let us consult a piece of excellent new fiction to see if we can find any answers.

Even fearless fighters can get burned out from fighting the Good Fight (after fight after fight after fight) and often LOSING critical battles, and the novel opens with activist lawyer Sam Lapidos in a deep state of depression and mental exhaustion. Battle fatigue is only one of the dilemmas confronted by Max Cossack’s “Wilder Bunch” in his 8th novel, Domesticated Terrorists.

When one cell of leftists willing to employ everything including political assassination slithers into Prescott, Arizona and another group of arsonists tries to blend in with the already-woke loons in a small college town in Minnesota, what options are left for the “Normal” residents? Assuming a man-mountain who lives off the grid, a black sheriff, a wonky computer guy with a bar band, and an aging Jewish lawyer married to a pregnant Moroccan-Mexican-Jewish woman fired from her college job could be described as “Normal.”

If you think you’d enjoy a book full of everything from crazy 24-hour car trips from Minnesota to Prescott to Mexican-Moroccan anti-depressant therapy involving ever hotter chili peppers in a traditional Moroccan Egg Dish, from a baby’s first steps to a furious husband’s plan to find and discourage the terrorist who threatened his wife and children to a tour of several thinly-disguised Prescott eateries – then this book is a must-have.

Domesticated Terrorists is available in eBook or paperback on Amazon by clicking here. Or you can purchase directly from the author at and receive the vaunted 20% Discount! Just enter PLDISCOUNT (one word ALL CAPS) at checkout.

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