Nut Up, Or Shut Up

Like the sailor in They Were Expendable, wistfully imagining the battleship USS Arizona would soon be sailing into Manila Bay to throw the Japs out of the Philippines in late 1941, some of us would like to imagine that President Trump will swoop in and prevent Gropey Dopey and Sen. Kneepads from being sworn in on January 20th next.

I put it to you cogently and strenuously, that no matter how much you would wish it otherwise, you will be far better served, both here and hereafter, by coming to grips firmly with the reality that he probably won't do any such thing.

It's nice to dream (by which I mean it's free, pleasant, and makes one feel happy), but you aren't going to dream your way out of what's coming.

You can't dream your way out of socialism.

And history demonstrates, over and over, that you cannot vote your way out of it either.

So unless you're 10 years old, and planning on outliving it, eventually, when you're 95, the only way out of socialism is either to flee it (to where?), or to fight it.

Bummer, huh?

That's the cold, hard truth that some are doing anything but facing.

Unless you're planning on embracing your new communist overlords, in which case, you deserve everything that's coming, in spades. BTW, you'll get the spades too. When socialism shovels dirt on your face.

So if you, right now, and in every spare minute, aren't planning for anything and everything you can do to deal with, and in fact bring, the coming war on America that His Fraudulency, Sen. Kneepads, Alzheimer Nancy, and Any Obvious Communist have in store for you, you're wasting effort, and more importantly, time.

Neither of which we, and more importantly, you, have to spare.

What you should be working on:

Abilities.

More PT. Anything is better than nothing.

Picking up, or buffing up, any skillset you don't have, while you can do so.

We already covered moving.

So that leaves Shooting.

Communicating.

Medically treating.

Building and repairing.

And everything else.

You're going to be the next generation of renaissance man (and woman) jack-of-all-trades/master of none. Or you won't be coming out the other side of things. Suture self.

Commodities.

Food.

Money.

Weapons.

Money.

Ammunition.

Money.

Munitions.

Money.

Supplies.

Money.

Equipment.

Money.

Trade and barter items.

And oh, did we mention, money?

As an experienced propmaster in Hollywood told me once, 

"This job is easy, you just have to have everything."

So, for Spicy Times, hard times, and all other times, what you need is simple.

Two more abilities you'd better have:

Flexability.

Those who've spent time in the dotMil get that things change. 

Plans. Missions. The Word. Everything.

When inspections were coming in Uncle Sam's Misguided Children, back when shelter halves were a thing, they had a green (rainy, winter) side, and a brown (dry, summer) side. And invariably, which side was to be displayed changed 27 times, even the day of the inspection.

Which spawned this universal ditty, across five continents and four fleets:

Green Side Out!

Brown Side Out!

Run In Circles!

Scream And Shout!

Which was dead-on balls accurate, but unbeknownst to most of the minons at the little end of life, it served a very valuable purpose, and saved lives.

Because during "the fog of war", things aren't going to go like the London Symphony's 400th rehearsal of Beethoven's Fifth Symphony. They're going to go pear-shaped. Sideways. 

Shit Show. Shit Circus. Even Shit Mardi Gras. 

And the sooner you get used to dealing with that amount of flux and fecal material, instead of being flustered and stunned into senseless inaction (and then getting killed) by it, and instead learn to "embrace the suck", 

the sooner you'll be able to deal with things, function, thrive, and prevail. Which is kind of important now, too.

It doesn't just work in the military. I've had some damned shitty days in the ED this year, and when it gets really bad, that's when I dig in and say "Throw more at me", 

and miraculously (or not so) the day (night, in my case) gets better, and I CRUSH it. I've seen me do it, and I still can't explain it, except to note that you can always do more than your mind thinks it can. Learn to deal with adversity.

Availability.

If you don't do this, it isn't going to get done. Period.

No one is coming to save you. Not even President Trump.

So don't be one of 100,000 people in years to come, pissing and moaning in the camps, and echoing Solzhenitsyn's Lament.

In this, male or female doesn't matter. Half the WWII Resistance in France (a paltry 2-3% of the country) was women. Some of the best spies were too. Old and young doesn't matter. The less you look like a military-aged male, the less of a threat you appear to be.

You're going to have to do whatever you can, where you are, with what you've got.

But it isn't kicking off in five minutes. (I know that because I started typing this five minutes ago.) Probably not in five hours either. But five days? Or five months? Good luck calling that one. Make as big a pile of "what you've got" now as you possibly can. Next Year You will thank Today You, a year from now.

Work on those things, every day. You're goal is improvement, not perfection. But it only works if you start. The sooner you stop daydreaming, the sooner you can begin making actual progress.