"........four helicopter gunships and twenty Black Hawks of troops arriving over Washington from Quantico would do it."

 

Unstable countries are unstable, this not always being obvious in those countries, and then comes a man on a horse. The United States, methinks, is not particularly stable.

That anything seismic might happen is an idea doubtless inconceivable to most Americans, who still remember the America of Reader’s Digest, but is daily less improbable. Weimar America is not stable. The cracks in the foundations, the social crumbling and virulent antipathies grow daily more evident.

The economy declines, jobs leave for other climes, the petroyuan looms, college graduates crushed by debt find no work, the middle class shrinks, and the young begin to live perforce with their parents. Times of diminishing expectations are dangerous.

City after city joins the ranks of the bankrupt, semiliterate, corrupt black Bantustans which by honest naming would be called Lower Third World. Their culture is utterly alien to that of Eurowhites.

Across the open border to the south pour huge waves from the Latino slums, less alien to Eurowhites, less hostile, but nonetheless threatening to form yet another country within a country. The Third World proportion of America closes rapidly on a full third. Despite desperate attempts to impose multicultural harmony, experience shows that widely disparate peoples who do not like each other do not enjoy happy endings. My country ‘tis of three, sweet land of dystrophy….

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