Personalism: The Politics of the Internet

An open letter to the Prime Minister of Canada and the President of the United States.

You came into power by having a platform the public could relate to.

You can win by having a new platform the public can relate to.

Forget about attacking the opposition directly. It is a waste of time and resources.

It was Eisenhower who said, “The plan is useless, the planning essential.”

Planning is about knowing yourself and your competitor. The actual battle is about adaptation and destruction of the competitor’s tools. WE MUST DOCUMENT THE COMPETITION TO GUIDE OUR ATTACK STRATEGY.

Napoleon’s first strike was at night and in the rain.

Martin Luther’s attack was with German and Satirical Cartoons instead of Latin and Religious Debate.

Canada conquered Vimy Ridge, by knowing how to hunt game in Canadian forests.

Germany invaded France by taking a country road around the Maginot Line.

D-Day was preceded by a massive night attack on front line communication, infrastructure and airborne troop drops behind enemy lines.

The Iraq invasion was founded on destroying the enemies’ will to fight.

We have no intent of ever executing a frontal assault against the enemy.  It is romantic incompetence.

Our competitive strategey: “Don’t fight like a Gentleman, fight like a Noble Savage.”

We are not seeking the approval of the professionals.

We are developing a language and tools to make the ordinary person extraordinary.

It is called the RECOVERY PLATFORM.

Create a phenomena called the “Personal Corporation.”

Make every Canadian capable of governing every aspect of their own life via the internet.

Abandon Marxism, Communism, Socialism, Capitalism, Liberalism, Conservatism, Racism, Fascism, Nazism.

Create the Manifesto of “PERSONALISM” the politics of the internet.

Sincerely,

Grant Czerepak

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Flags: Oh, East is East and West is West and North is North and South is South

nato

“Honest and upright people are rare.”

Chanakya 350 – 275 B.C.

Oh, East is East, and West is West, and never the twain shall meet,
Till Earth and Sky stand presently at God’s great Judgment Seat;
But there is neither East nor West, Border, nor Breed, nor Birth,
When two strong men stand face to face,
tho’ they come from the ends of the earth!

Kamal is out with twenty men to raise the Border-side,
And he has lifted the Colonel’s mare that is the Colonel’s pride:
He has lifted her out of the stable-door between the dawn and the day,
And turned the calkins upon her feet, and ridden her far away.

Then up and spoke the Colonel’s son that led a troop of the Guides:
“Is there never a man of all my men can say where Kamal hides?”

Then up and spoke Mahommed Khan, the son of the Ressaldar:
“If ye know the track of the morning-mist, ye know where his pickets are.

At dusk he harries the Abazai — at dawn he is into Bonair,
But he must go by Fort Bukloh to his own place to fare,
So if ye gallop to Fort Bukloh as fast as a bird can fly,
By the favour of God ye may cut him off ere he win to the Tongue of Jagai.

But if he be past the Tongue of Jagai, right swiftly turn ye then,
For the length and the breadth of that grisly plain is sown with Kamal’s men.

There is rock to the left, and rock to the right, and low lean thorn between,
And ye may hear a breech-bolt snick where never a man is seen.”

The Colonel’s son has taken a horse, and a raw rough dun was he,
With the mouth of a bell and the heart of Hell
and the head of the gallows-tree.

The Colonel’s son to the Fort has won, they bid him stay to eat —
Who rides at the tail of a Border thief, he sits not long at his meat.

He’s up and away from Fort Bukloh as fast as he can fly,
Till he was aware of his father’s mare in the gut of the Tongue of Jagai,
Till he was aware of his father’s mare with Kamal upon her back,
And when he could spy the white of her eye, he made the pistol crack.

He has fired once, he has fired twice, but the whistling ball went wide.
“Ye shoot like a soldier,” Kamal said. “Show now if ye can ride.”

It’s up and over the Tongue of Jagai, as blown dustdevils go,
The dun he fled like a stag of ten, but the mare like a barren doe.

The dun he leaned against the bit and slugged his head above,
But the red mare played with the snaffle-bars, as a maiden plays with a glove.

There was rock to the left and rock to the right, and low lean thorn between,
And thrice he heard a breech-bolt snick tho’ never a man was seen.

They have ridden the low moon out of the sky, their hoofs drum up the dawn,
The dun he went like a wounded bull, but the mare like a new-roused fawn.

The dun he fell at a water-course — in a woful heap fell he,
And Kamal has turned the red mare back, and pulled the rider free.

He has knocked the pistol out of his hand — small room was there to strive,
“‘Twas only by favour of mine,” quoth he, “ye rode so long alive:
There was not a rock for twenty mile, there was not a clump of tree,
But covered a man of my own men with his rifle cocked on his knee.

If I had raised my bridle-hand, as I have held it low,
The little jackals that flee so fast were feasting all in a row:
If I had bowed my head on my breast, as I have held it high,
The kite that whistles above us now were gorged till she could not fly.”

Lightly answered the Colonel’s son: “Do good to bird and beast,
But count who come for the broken meats before thou makest a feast.

If there should follow a thousand swords to carry my bones away,
Belike the price of a jackal’s meal were more than a thief could pay.

They will feed their horse on the standing crop,
their men on the garnered grain,
The thatch of the byres will serve their fires when all the cattle are slain.

But if thou thinkest the price be fair, — thy brethren wait to sup,
The hound is kin to the jackal-spawn, — howl, dog, and call them up!

And if thou thinkest the price be high, in steer and gear and stack,
Give me my father’s mare again, and I’ll fight my own way back!”

Kamal has gripped him by the hand and set him upon his feet.
“No talk shall be of dogs,” said he, “when wolf and gray wolf meet.

May I eat dirt if thou hast hurt of me in deed or breath;
What dam of lances brought thee forth to jest at the dawn with Death?”

Lightly answered the Colonel’s son: “I hold by the blood of my clan:
Take up the mare for my father’s gift — by God, she has carried a man!”

The red mare ran to the Colonel’s son, and nuzzled against his breast;
“We be two strong men,” said Kamal then, “but she loveth the younger best.

So she shall go with a lifter’s dower, my turquoise-studded rein,
My broidered saddle and saddle-cloth, and silver stirrups twain.”

The Colonel’s son a pistol drew and held it muzzle-end,
“Ye have taken the one from a foe,” said he;
“will ye take the mate from a friend?”

“A gift for a gift,” said Kamal straight; “a limb for the risk of a limb.

Thy father has sent his son to me, I’ll send my son to him!”

With that he whistled his only son, that dropped from a mountain-crest —
He trod the ling like a buck in spring, and he looked like a lance in rest.

“Now here is thy master,” Kamal said, “who leads a troop of the Guides,
And thou must ride at his left side as shield on shoulder rides.

Till Death or I cut loose the tie, at camp and board and bed,
Thy life is his — thy fate it is to guard him with thy head.

So, thou must eat the White Queen’s meat, and all her foes are thine,
And thou must harry thy father’s hold for the peace of the Border-line,
And thou must make a trooper tough and hack thy way to power —
Belike they will raise thee to Ressaldar when I am hanged in Peshawur.”

They have looked each other between the eyes, and there they found no fault,
They have taken the Oath of the Brother-in-Blood on leavened bread and salt:
They have taken the Oath of the Brother-in-Blood on fire and fresh-cut sod,
On the hilt and the haft of the Khyber knife, and the Wondrous Names of God.

The Colonel’s son he rides the mare and Kamal’s boy the dun,
And two have come back to Fort Bukloh where there went forth but one.

And when they drew to the Quarter-Guard, full twenty swords flew clear —
There was not a man but carried his feud with the blood of the mountaineer.

“Ha’ done! ha’ done!” said the Colonel’s son.
“Put up the steel at your sides!

Last night ye had struck at a Border thief —
to-night ’tis a man of the Guides!”

Oh, East is East, and West is West, and never the twain shall meet,
Till Earth and Sky stand presently at God’s great Judgment Seat;
But there is neither East nor West, Border, nor Breed, nor Birth,
When two strong men stand face to face,
tho’ they come from the ends of the earth!

— Rudyard Kipling

In my last post I was taking Latin and and translating it into the monosyllabic brevity and clarity of the Anglo-Saxon tongue.

Just as an aside, it turns out Anglo-Saxon is very much like the Japanese in this respect.  No wonder they got along so well in the mid-century last.

Apparently, they even had some sleep overs and made their sheets look alike:

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Talk about “Tao and Te”.

Then in the sixties, Canada decides it needs a new flag, with the Atlantic on one coast and the Pacific on the other coast and they come up with this:

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“Zen, you ‘ave Kanata caught in the mittle.”

Talk about cognitive dissonance or what?  But what do you expect?  That was East and West and Canada’s assurance of economic independence.  Not to mention all the guilt over the Japanese-Canadian internment camps and German-Canadian internment camps during WWII.

We were also caught in the middle of something much bigger.  We had the Russian Bear to the North and the American Eagle to the South, and if they ever met we would have all the radioactive fallout dropping down on our Nobel Peace Prize winning heads.

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And the DEW Line, maintained by our allies to the south was on the northern edge of our terrain and our best general is underground at NORAD an still is permanently second in command protecting the North American continent. (He was the one who got fighters in the air in minutes during 9/11, by the way.)

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Then there was the Russian bomber approaching Canadian Airspace on the eve of President Barack Obama’s visit to Ottawa, Canada.

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Oh, East is East  and West is West

and North is North and South is South

And never the quain shall meet

We’re the coldest country in the world

in midst of all the heat.

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The Suns, The Stars and The Leaves

But what is it really about?  It’s about what we aspire to.

The German and Japanese Empires wanted to “rule the Sunrise and Sunset” a term with its roots in safe  Days or “Hours” or Times and Properties.

The Soviet and American Empires wanted to “rule the Sun and the Stars” a term with its roots in safe Heavens or “Havens” or Skies and Ways.

The Canadians Empire wants to “rule the Deciduous Trees” a term with its roots in safe Arbors or “Harbors” or Lands and Seas.

Kipling, you are are such an f’ing twit.  We’re still in Afghanistan.  May all of NATO’s men and women in the deserts keep their butts warm and their heads low.

Vodpod videos no longer available.

more about “MARTIN LUTHER KING: I HAVE SEEN THE P…“, posted with vodpod

“It has been a difficult journey to get here.  But the view to the south is pretty sunny.”

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P.S.  You might be wondering about the “Kim Tzu” moniker in my previous post.  Well, I was telling a friend in China about the Country of Canada, the Province of Manitoba and the City of Winnipeg.  One of the things I  told about was the statue that stands atop of the Manitoba Provincial Legislative Building:

winnipeg2

He is called “The Golden Boy” and he stands five metres tall plated in gold holding a torch and a sheaf of wheat running toward Canada’s Northwest.

When I told my friend the name she said “Kim Tzu” which means “Golden Boy”.  Upon hearing this I told her we have a whole province of Golden Boys and Golden Girls.  Even if it’s just a twenty-four karat gold tan.

“Where the Yellow are Mellow”

Reverend Joseph Lowery

relationary.

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