Broken Backs and Stale Baguettes

If ever there was a nation of people more docile and all-embracing of the idea of globalism than the French, I have yet to come across it. It mattered not what the latest lunacy that came frothing from the mouths of self-titled experts was, the French lapped it up and begged for seconds.

Outlaw plastic, carbon, cars, planes, and toilet paper? Sure, of course, makes sense. Sign us up. We’ll even throw in cow flatulence and outdoor grills for good measure. And so the globalist agenda proceeded unchecked, unopposed, and largely praised by a populace that has been propagandized and culled to the point of perfectly mimicking a lobotomized individual who can do little more than drool on themselves and wait for their next government check to come in the mail.

Then something happened. It was unexpected, and caught the entire global elite by surprise. It was not something they foresaw, it is not something they planned for, and it is not something they ever imagined would occur in France of all places.

So great was the strain on the backs of the lobotomized masses, that something snapped. It was the proverbial straw added to the back of the proverbial camel, and all the pent up rage, anxiety, anger, disappointment and fear poured forth like a rush of water breaking a dam.

The straw could have been anything, but it just so happened to be a gas tax. This was it! The last insult, the last governmental leech to bleed the host just a little, because there is a fine balance between taxing the masses just enough to keep them clocking in to work and being good little automatons, and taking one cent more than they are willing to fork over because they’ve realized there’s more of their hard earned money going to government than to their own families.

And so the lowly masses raged, and their wrath would not be satiated by the scrapping of the new tax, nor by the call for holiday bonuses by employers who could afford it.

Unfortunately, because they had for so long allowed incompetent, mentally deficient individuals to pass laws and dictate policies, when it came time to take to the streets, rage, stale baguettes, and body odor is all the French had to stand against a tyrannical government.

We must come to terms with the undeniable reality that any time there is a push for new legislation, or for a new limitation on the individual’s rights in this country, the reason put forth isn’t really The Reason. There is always a secondary objective, a secondary motivation as to why certain things are pushed and encouraged, that is far more sinister than the one being presented.

Rage as they might, the most the French people can do at this juncture is throw a few brick and burn down their own neighborhoods. They’ve abdicated both self-governance and the ability to defend themselves and their loved ones, and now they must suffer at the whims of tyrants and miscreants, because though they are told they have a voice and are being heard, the truth of the matter is that once control is had, those in control will still do what they want when they want it.

This is why America vexes them so. They cannot accomplish their agenda as long as the average citizen still has the ability to defend himself. This is why they rage so, this is why they are frothing at the mouth, this is why an actual member of the United States House of Representatives warned gun owners that if they plan to resist, the government has nukes, so it would be a short lived fight.

The French can’t undo what they have done. Their fate is sealed, as is the fate of every nation that has surrendered their rights to the globalist cabal. While this nation still has its sovereignty, while this nation still has its rights, we can either acknowledge that the fight is real, or brew a nice cup of sleepy time tea and go back to sleep until we, like the French, get our backs broken and start manifesting our impotent rage in the streets to no avail.

With love in Christ,
Michael Boldea Jr.