In the news these days, we find an epic battle to control the soul of the United States. Those holding most of the treasure and power seem to be unable to share at all, and will do anything necessary to keep the status quo. They want more and more at any cost. But everyone else has noticed, and the paradigm shift has begun…….
This isn't a war. It never was a “war,” any more than there's war between man and ants. The ants build their cities, live their lives, have wars, revolutions, until the men want them out of the way, and then they go out of the way. That's what we are now--just ants.
After the bank bailouts I went south--thinking. I saw what was up. Here are intelligent things, and it seems they want us for food. First, they'll smash us up--ships, machines, guns, cities. All the order and organization, all of that will go. At present we're caught as we're wanted. A corrupt corporatist politician, like Issa or Bass, or one of those bankers like Blankfein or Dimon, has only to go a few miles to get a crowd on the run.
I saw one of them, one day, out by Encinitas, picking houses to pieces and routing among the wreckage. But they won't keep on doing that. As soon as they've collected all our money and possessions, smashed our railways, polluted our air and water, destroyed our parks and areas of shared public trust, they will begin catching us systematically, picking the best and storing us in cages and things. There won't be any more blessed concerts for a million years or so; there won't be any Academy of Arts, and no nice little feeds at restaurants. They ain't no further use. That's what they will start doing in a bit. Lord! They haven't begun on us yet. Don't you see that? Cities, nations, civilization, progress--it's all over. That game's up. We're beat.
Those who mean to escape their catching must get ready. I'm getting ready. I'm going on, under their feet. I've been thinking about Mexico, or Canada. Of course those who don't know how close the escape is, think horrible things; And we form a band--able-bodied, clean-minded men and women. We're not going to pick up any brainwashed Tea Party “rubbish” that drifts in. All these--the sort of people that lived in these houses, and all those damn little clerks that used to live down that way--they'd be no good. They haven't any spirit in them. I've seen them skedaddle off to work--hundreds of 'em, bit of breakfast in hand, running wild and shining to catch their little season-ticket train, for fear they'd get dismissed if they didn't; skedaddling back for fear they wouldn't be in time for dinner. Lives insured and a bit invested for fear of accidents. And on Sundays--fear of the hereafter. As if hell was built for rabbits! Well, the Corporatists will just be a godsend to these. Nice roomy cages, fattening and sickening GMO food, careful breeding, no worry. After a week or so chasing about the fields and lands on empty stomachs, they'll come and be caught cheerful. They'll be quite glad after a bit. They'll wonder what people did before there were Corporatists to take care of them.
And the bar loafers, and mashers, and singers--I can imagine them. Very likely these Corporatists will make pets of some of them; train them to do tricks--who knows?--get sentimental over the pet boy who grew up and had to be killed. And some, maybe, they will train to hunt us.
No, we have to invent a sort of life where men and women can live and be free; and be sufficiently secure to bring the children up. We don't know enough. We've got to learn before we've got a chance. And we've got to live and keep independent while we learn. See! That's what has to be done. And when we do learn--Just imagine this: we all get together in a collective non-violent occupation of our country; occupying our cities and countryside; occupying the banks, occupying the hearts and minds of the populace. The corporatists will be perplexed, as their fuel, their money, starts leaking from their coffers. The arrogant blowhard radio and TV buffoons who for so long preyed on those who were impressionable. The corporate bankers will start running scared, as they have no funds for their bonuses. These efforts will be led by many – many who have stepped up to be the leaders they have always been, though oppressed for so long.
Can't you see them, man? Can't you see them hurrying, hurrying--puffing and blowing and hooting to their other mechanical affairs? Something out of gear in every case. And swish, bang, rattle, swish! Just as they are fumbling over it, SWISH comes the will of the people, and, behold! Man has come back to his own.
Adapted from "War of the Worlds" by H. G. Wells