The revolution was televised. The first six hours anyway. I watched the news, like most Americans as the president was stabbed three times in the back by a news person at a press conference on the tension in the US. I saw the Secret Service mow down half a room trying to regain control of the situation, and I like the rest of America saw our President bleed to death on prime time television.

I saw our Vice President address the country from Air Force one thirty-one seconds before it was attacked by a large caliber anti-aircraft weapon. No one knows who repaired the Flak88 on display at Wright Pat AFB but I remember seeing the footage of the artillery spinning on it’s axis before unloading a round at the still grounded plane. There were no survivors, and to this day no one knows who fired the shot.

I remember reading Los Angeles’ death one Twitter post at a time. Remember the posts of “I can hear the rioting far off, and it sounds like the cops are retreating” then “The mobs are getting close and I see fire and smoke everywhere” I can remember the frantic calls for help between the survivors, those who weren’t indulging in burning down everything, trying to form some defense network through social networking sites. I remember the last post too, a simple “They are inside” which chilled me to the bones.

Those of us in the Midwest were relatively well off. You started seeing the good ol’ boys out with their shotguns and AR15s, wearing camouflage as if they had been preparing for this for years. There was a lot of violence. Old feuds being worked out without the cops in the way to stop it. Heard of families being killed by others just because someone’s daughter got caught in someone’s son’s car.

We lasted six days before resorting to total anarchy. This was long enough for the people from the cities to realize that they were out of food, and Walmart’s everyday low prices weren’t quite an option anymore. You saw the cities abandoned overnight, and the small towns closest overfilled. Of course by now the news crews from every country in the world were there, covering how horrible things were. How everyone was fighting for the little food available and how they thought the mass migration out of the cities was soon going to spread to the next town down the line and so on and so forth. Then suddenly the next town decided that they didn’t like everyone from the next town down the road. Damn they had taken the local football rivalry too seriously, and well they had vandalized the local schools that one year for a senior prank. The roadblocks came next, buses parked at the entries to every town, filled with teens and old men, toting hunting and assault rifles, all wearing some secondhand camouflage waiting for someone to show up.

When your towns’ turn came to be hit up by the refugees there was always the talk of “we have guns, let’s turn them away”  and it was always talk, until the first town did it. The news crews were there, and for the first time ever you saw Americans killing Americans for food on prime time television. Then everywhere you turned towns were forcing back refugees, saying they had enough for themselves only. You saw the refugees try to take what they needed by force, and we witnessed the genocide start. The most powerful footage I saw was of a fourteen year old boy leap atop the hood of a bus with a mini-14 and shoot through both windshields to spray down everyone inside. A year ago this boy would have been sheepishly flirting with girls and trying not to fail algebra, now he was a freedom fighter.

The death tolls started rolling in, talks of mass graves found by the interstates, and even more bodies laying out in the open. There was no UN response to put down the violence, and no police to stop the chaos. We killed and killed and killed. No one had been prepared for this, no one had even more than a shred of supplies. There was always more. Until of course there isn’t.

It’s funny that today we are the country that countries send their  men to fight and die in. Our boys are the bushwhacking guerrillas fighting for the right to kill their neighbors. We forgot that every American had a responsibility more sacred than that of Husband, Father, Mother, or Wife, and that was to be prepared for America’s sake for anything that could happen.


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