Sundown at Coffin Rock

[High Exposure 5,664]

With the news that New York will now be offering a $500 confiscation reward as seen in the below post:

 

New York has even gone more asinine: http://www.thegatewa...un-snitch-line/

 

The original "helpline" the NYSP manned for questions regarding the SAFE Act for clarification & questions is now a snitch hotline.

Posted by Jim Hoft on Wednesday, March 20, 2013, 12:34 PM

 

 

New York State is now offering $500 to people who snitch on gun owners.

Menrec has the story.

And, The Troy Record also has news on the tip line on their Facebook page – It is real. There is actually someone there to take your tips… So that state officials can come take your guns.

NY State has established a toll-free tip line –

1-855-GUNSNYS

(1-855- 486-7697) to encourage residents to report illegal firearm possession. The tip line also allows for information to be submitted via text – individuals can text GUNTIP and their message to CRIMES (274637). The New York State Police staff the tip line 24 hours a day. Upon receiving a call, troopers will solicit as much information as possible regarding a firearm tip then contact the appropriate police agency with the lead to initiate an investigation.

If the information leads to an arrest for the illegal possession of a firearm, the “tipster” will be awarded $500.

This is like something you’d read about in China or Cuba, not America.

Pat Bailey

from

CBS6

has more on the snitch line.

A program aimed at rewarding people who blow the whistle on illegal gun owners has yet to show significant results, says three police agencies in the New York.

In February of 2012, 11 months before the passage of the NY SAFE Act, Governor Cuomo’s office announced a four pronged initiative to curb gun violence. One of the programs was a cash reward for citizens who lead police to the arrest and confiscation of illegal fire arms.

Known as the “Gun Tip Line”, New Yorkers can call a toll free hotline to alert police if they believe someone they know has an illegal gun. The call would be picked up by state police and local law enforcement would be notified if the tip seemed reliable.

If there was an arrest the tipster would receive as much as $500.

 

in this -

 

http://njgunforums.com/forum/index.php?/topic/51654-new-york-governor-favors-easing-newly-passed-gun-law/page__p__671183__hl__reward__fromsearch__1#entry671183

 

- thread, it reminded me of this short story from 1994.

 

Sundown at Coffin Rock

 

by Raymond K. Paden

 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 

The old man walked slowly through the dry, fallen leaves of autumn, his practiced eye automatically choosing the bare and stony places in the trail for his feet. There was scarcely a sound as he passed, though his left knee was stiff with scar tissue. He grunted occasionally as the tight sinews pulled. Damn chainsaw, he thought.

 

Behind him, the boy shuffled along, trying to imitate his grandfather, but unable to mimic the silent motion that the old man had learned during countless winter days upon this wooded mountain in pursuit of game. He's fifteen years old, the old man thought. Plenty old enough to be learning...But that was another time, another America. His mind drifted, and he saw himself, a fifteen-year-old boy following in the footsteps of his own grandfather, clutching a twelve gauge in his trembling hands as they tracked a wounded whitetail.

 

The leg was hurting worse now, and he slowed his pace a bit. Plenty of time. It should have been my own son here with me now, the old man thought sadly. But Jason had no interest, no understanding. He cared for nothing but pound- ing on the keys of that damned computer terminal. He knew nothing about the woods, or where food came from...or free- dom. And that's my fault, isn't it?

 

The old man stopped and held up his hand, motioning for the boy to look. In the small clearing ahead, the deer stood motionless, watching them. It was a scraggly buck, underfed and sickly, but the boy's eyes lit up with excitement. It had been many years since they had seen even a single white- tail here on the mountain. After the hunting had stopped, the population had exploded. The deer had eaten the mountain almost bare until erosion had become a serious problem in some places. That following winter, three starving does had wandered into the old man's yard, trying to eat the bark off of his pecan trees, and he had wished the "animal rights" fanatics could have been there then. It was against the law, but old man knew a higher law, and he took an axe into the yard and killed the staving beasts. They did not have the strength to run.

 

The buck finally turned and loped away, and they continued down the trail to the river. When they came to the "Big Oak," the old man turned and pushed through the heavy brush beside the trail and the boy followed, wordlessly. The old man knew that Thomas was curious about their leaving the trail, but the boy had learned to move silently (well, almost) and that meant no talking. When they came to "Coffin Rock," the old man sat down upon it and motioned for the boy to join him.

 

"You see this rock, shaped like a casket?" the old man asked. "Yes sir." The old man smiled. The boy was respectful and polite. He loved the outdoors, too. Everything a man could ask in a grandson...or a son.

 

"I want you to remember this place, and what I'm about to tell you. A lot of it isn't going to make any sense to you, but it's important and one day you'll understand it well enough. The old man paused. Now that he was here, he didn't really know where to start.

 

"Before you were born," he began at last, "this country was different. I've told you about hunting, about how everybody who obeyed the law could own guns. A man could speak out, anywhere, without worrying about whether he'd get back home or not. School was different, too. A man could send his kids to a church school, or a private school, or even teach them at home. But even in the public schools, they didn't spend all their time trying to brainwash you like they do at yours now." The old man paused, and was silent for many minutes. The boy was still, watching a chipmunk scavenging beside a fallen tree below them.

 

"Things don't ever happen all at once, boy. They just sort of sneak up on you. Sure, we knew guns were important; we just didn't think it would ever happen in America. But we had to do something about crime, they said. It was a crisis. Everything was a crisis! It was a drug crisis, or a terror- ism crisis, or street crime, or gang crime. Even a 'health care' crisis was an excuse to take away a little more of our rights." The old man turned to look at his grandson.

 

"They ever let you read a thing called the Constitution down there at your school?" The boy solemnly shook his head. "Well, the Fourth Amendment's still in there. It says there won't be any unreasonable searches and seizures. It says you're safe in your own home." The old man shrugged. "That had to go. It was a crisis! They could kick your door open any time, day or night, and come in with guns blazing if they thought you had drugs...or later, guns. Oh, at first it was just registration - to keep the guns out of the hands of criminals! But that didn't work, of course, and then later when they wanted to take 'em they knew where to look. They banned 'assault rifles,' and then 'sniper rifles,' and 'Saturday-night specials.' Everything you saw on the TV or in the movies was against us. God knows the news people were! And the schools were teaching our kids that nobody needed guns anymore. We tried to take a stand, but we felt like the whole face of our country had changed and we were left outside.

 

"Me and a friend of mine, when we saw what was happening, we came and built a secret place up here on the mountain. A place where we could put our guns until we needed them. We figured some day Americans would remember what it was like to be free, and what kind of price we had to pay for that freedom. So we hid our guns instead of losing them."

 

"One fellow I knew disagreed. He said we ought to use our guns now and stand up to the government. 'Said that the colonists had fought for their freedom when the British tried to disarm them at Lexington and Concord. Well, he and a lot of others died in what your history books call the 'Tax Revolt of 1998,' but son, it wasn't the revolt that caused the repeal of the Second Amendment like your history book says. The Second Amendment was already gone long before they ever repealed it. The rest of us thought we were doing the right thing by waiting. I hope to God we were right.

 

"You see, Thomas. It isn't government that makes a man free. In the end, governments always do just the opposite. They gobble up freedom like hungry pigs. You have to have laws to keep the worst in men under control, but at the same time the people have to have guns, too, in order to keep the government itself under control. In our country, the people were supposed to be the final authority of the law, but that was a long time ago. Once the guns were gone, there was no reason for those who run the government to give a damn about laws and constitutional rights and such. They just did what they pleased and anyone who spoke out...well, I'm getting ahead of myself.

 

"It took a long time to collect up all the millions of firearms that were in private hands. The government created a whole new agency to see to it. There were rewards for turning your friends in, too. Drug dealers and murderers were set free after two or three years in prison, but pos- session of a gun would get you mandatory life behind bars with no parole.

 

"I don't know how they found out about me, probably knew I'd been a hunter all those years, or maybe somebody turned me in. They picked me up on suspicion and took me down to the federal building.

 

"Son, those guys did everything they could think of to me. Kept me locked up in this little room for hours, no food, no water. They kept coming in, asking me where the guns were. 'What guns?' I said. Whenever I'd doze off, they'd come crashing in, yelling and hollering. I got to where I didn't know which end was up. I'd say I wanted my lawyer and they'd laugh. 'Lawyers are for criminals,' they said. 'You'll get a lawyer after we get the guns.' What's so funny is, I know they thought they were doing the right thing. They were fighting crime!

 

"When I got home I found Ruth sitting in the middle of the living room floor, crying her eyes out. The house was a shambles. While I was down there, they'd come out and took our house apart. Didn't need a search warrant, they said. National emergency! Gun crisis! Your grandma tried to call our preacher and they ripped the phone off the wall. Told her that they'd go easy on me if she just told them where I kept my guns." The old man laughed. "She told them to go to hell." He stared into the distance for a moment as his laughter faded.

 

"They wouldn't tell her about me, where I was or anything, that whole time. She said that she'd thought I was dead. She never got over that day, and she died the next December.

 

"They've been watching me ever since, off and on. I guess there's not much for them to do anymore, now that all the guns are gone. Plenty of time to watch one foolish old man." He paused. Beside him, the boy stared at the stone beneath his feet.

 

"Anyway, I figure that, one day, America will come to her senses. Our men will need those guns and they'll be ready. We cleaned them and sealed them up good; they'll last for years. Maybe it won't be in your lifetime, Thomas. Maybe one day you'll be sitting here with your son or grandson. Tell him about me, boy. Tell him about the way I said America used to be." The old man stood, his bad leg shaking unstead- ily beneath him.

 

"You see the way this stone points? You follow that line one-hundred feet down the hill and you'll find a big round rock. It looks like it's buried solid, but one man with a good prybar can lift it, and there's a concrete tunnel right under there that goes back into the hill."

 

The old man stood, watching as the sun eased toward the ridge, coloring the sky and the world red. Below them, the river still splashed among the stones, as it had for a million years. It's still going, the old man thought. There'll be someone left to carry on for me when I'm gone. It was harder to walk back. He felt old and purposeless now, and it would be easier, he knew, to give in to that aching heaviness in his left lung that had begun to trouble him more and more. Damn cigarettes, he thought. His leg hurt, and the boy silently came up beside him and supported him as they started down the last mile toward the house. How quiet he walks, the old man thought. He's learned well.

 

It was almost dark when the boy walked in. His father looked up from his paper.

 

"Did you and your granddad have a nice walk?"

 

"Yes," the boy answered, opening the refrigerator. "You can call Agent Goodwin tomorrow. Gramps finally showed me where it is."

[BleedingOrange36 0]

Thanks for sharing.

Wasn't the ending I expected..... Very upsetting.

But this is exactly what's going on...... And one day it will be a reality.

[njpilot 671]

Thanks for sharing.

Wasn't the ending I expected..... Very upsetting.

But this is exactly what's going on...... And one day it will be a reality.

 

Agree. Felt the same way.

 

For all of you that have kids, you need to dispell all the bs brainwashing they get in school.

[Walt of Destiny 412]

Thank you. Hadn't read it before. I'll pass on to whomever will listen.

[john q publik 10]

And for the conclusion.......

 

Sunrise at Coffin Rock

Thomas sat alone upon the cold stone, shivering slightly in the chill pre-dawn air of this

April morning. The flashlight was turned off, resting beside him on the bare granite of Coffin

Rock, and involuntarily he strained his eyes in the gray non-light of the false dawn, trying to

make out the shapes of the trees and the mountains across the river. Below, he could hear the

chuckling of the water as it crossed the polished stones. How many times had he fished there,

his grandfather beside him?

He tried to shrug away the memories, but why else had he come here except to

remember? Perhaps to escape the inevitable confrontation with his mother. She would have to

be told sooner or later, but Thomas infinitely preferred later.

"Mom, I've been expelled from the university," he said aloud in a conversational tone.

Some small night animal, startled by the sudden sound, scurried away to the right. "I know this

means you won't get upgraded to C-3, and they'll probably turn you down for that surgery now.

Gee, Mom. I'm sorry." It sounded so stupid. Why? she would ask him. How?

How could he explain that? The endless arguments. The whispered warnings. The

subtle threats. Dennis had told him to expect this. Dennis had lost his parents in the First Purge

back in ‘04, and his bitter hatred of the State's iron rule had failed to ruin him only because of his

unique and accomplished abilities as an actor. Only with Thomas did he open up. Only with

Thomas did he relate the things he had learned while in the Youth Re-education Camp near

Charleston. Thomas shuddered.

It was his own fault, he knew. He should have kept his mouth shut like Dennis told him.

All of his friends had come and shook his hand and pounded him on the back. "That's telling

them, Adams!" they said. But their voices were hushed and they glanced over their shoulders as

they congratulated him. And later, when the "volunteers" of the Green Ribbon Squad kicked his

ass all over the shower room, they had stood by in nervous silence, their eyes averted, and their

tremulous voices silent.

He sighed. Could he blame them? He'd been afraid too, when the squad walked up and

surrounded him, and if he could have taken back those proud words he would have. Anyone is

afraid when they can't defend themselves, he'd discovered. So they taught him a lesson, and he

had hoped it would end there. But then yesterday had come the call to Dr. Morton's office, and

the brief hearing that had ended his career at the university. "Thomas," Morton had intoned,

"you owe everything to the State." Thomas snorted.

The light was growing now. He could see the pale rain-washed granite in the grayness as

if it glowed. Coffin Rock was now a knob, a raised promontory that jutted up from a wide,

unbroken arm of the mountain's stony roots, its cover of soil pushed away. There were deep

gouges scraped across the surface of the rock where the backhoe had tried, vainly, to force the

mountain to reveal its secrets. He was too old to cry now, but Thomas Adams closed his eyes

tightly as he relived those moments that had forever changed his life.

The shouts and angry accusations as the agents found no secret arms cache still seemed

to ring in his ears. They had threatened him with arrest, and once he had thought the man called

Goodwin would actually strike him. At last, though, they had accepted defeat, turned away from

Coffin Rock and walked slowly down the mountain, following the gashed trail of the backhoe as

it rumbled ahead through the woods.

At home, he had found his mother and father standing ashen faced in the doorway.

"They took your grandpa," his father said in disbelief. "Just after you left, they put him

in a van and took him."

"But they said they wouldn't!" Thomas had shouted. He ran across the yard to the old

man's cottage. The door was standing open and he wandered from room to room, calling for the

grandfather he would never see alive again.

It was his heart, they said. Two days after they had taken him, someone called and

tersely announced that the old man had died at the indigent clinic a few hours after his arrest.

"’Sorry," the faceless voice had muttered. Thomas had wept at the funeral, but it was only in

later years that he had come to understand the greatest tragedy of that day: that the old man had

died alone, knowing that his own grandson had betrayed him.

That grandson was Thomas, and he was now too old to cry, but in the growing light of

the cold mountain dawn, he did anyway.

Thomas was certain that his father's de-certification six months later was due to the

debacle in the forest. As much as anyone did these days, they had "owned" their home, but the

Certification Board would still have evicted them except for the intervention of Cousin Lou, who

worked for the State Supervisor. As it was, they lost all privileges and, when his father came

down with pneumonia the next autumn, medical treatment was denied. He had died three days

after the first anniversary of Grandpa’s death.

Thomas had been sure that he would be turned down at the University, but once again his

cousin had intervened and a slot had opened for him. But now that was finished, he reflected.

He would be unable to obtain any certification other than manual laborer. "Why didn't I keep my

mouth shut?" he asked the morning stillness. In a tree behind him, a mockingbird began to sing

its ageless song and, as if in answer, the forest below began to twitter and chirp with the voices

of other birds, greeting the new day.

No, what he had said had been the truth and nothing could change that. The State was

wrong; it was evil. It was unnatural for men to be slaves of their government, always skulking,

always holding their tongue lest they anger The State. But there is no "State," Thomas

considered. There are only men, holding power over other men. And anyone who speaks out,

who dares to challenge that power is crushed.

If only there was a way to fight back!

Thomas shifted on the stone, hanging his feet off the downhill side. His feet had almost

touched the grass that day, but now, although his legs were certainly longer, it was at least

twelve inches to the scarred rock surface below. As he kicked his heels back and forth, he could

almost hear his grandfather speaking to him from long ago...

... one day, America will come to her senses. Our men will need those guns and they'll be

ready. We cleaned them and sealed them up good; they'll last for years. Maybe it won't be in

your lifetime, Thomas. Maybe one day you'll be sitting here with your son or grandson. Tell

him about me, boy. Tell him about the way I said America used to be.

You see the way this stone points? the old man had said. You follow that line onehundred

feet ... Thomas' heels were suddenly still. For many minutes he did not move, playing

those words over and over in his mind. ... Follow that line ...

What hidden place in his brain had concealed those words all of these years? How could

the threats have failed to dislodge it? He stood upon shaky legs and climbed down from the

Coffin Rock. In his mind's eye, he could see the old man pointing and he walked down the hill

and through a clinging briar patch, counting off the paces. The round stone did seem solidly

buried, but he scratched around near the base and found that the rock ended just an inch or so

beneath the surface. One man with a good bar can lift it, Gramps had said. Thomas forced his

fingers beneath the edge and, with all the strength in his twenty-one year old body, he lifted.

The stone came up, and he slid it off to one side. Cool air drifted up from the dark opening in

the mountain. Thomas looked to the right where the scars of the State's frustration ended, only

fifteen or twenty feet away. They had been that close.

He squatted and stared into the blackness and then remembered his flashlight. In a

moment, he was back with it, probing the dark with the yellow beam. There was a small patch

of moisture just inside, but then the tunnel climbed upwards toward the ridge. On hands and

knees, he entered.

It was uncomfortably close for the first twenty feet or so, then the cavern opened up

around him. The men who had built this place, he saw, had taken a natural crevice in the granite

rock, sealed it with poured concrete, and then covered it with earth. The main chamber was

bigger than the living room of his house, and they had left an opening up near the peak of the

vaulted roof where fresh air and a faint, filtered light entered.

Wooden boxes and crates were stacked everywhere on concrete blocks, up off of the

floor, stenciled with legends like RIFLE CAL30M1, 9MM PARA, M193 BALL, MAK90,

7.62X39MM, and 5.56MM. He pushed between them and crawled to the wall where he found

cardboard boxes wrapped and sealed in plastic sheeting. These were imprinted with names like

OLIN, WW748, BULLSEYE, and RL550B. There were also green steel boxes, stacked almost to

the ceiling. He did not know what the crates and boxes contained, and was afraid to break the

seals, but near the center of the room he found a plastic wrapped carton labeled OPEN THIS

FIRST. With his pocketknife, he slit the heavy plastic wrapping.

It contained only books, he saw with some disappointment. But he studied the titles and

found that they were manuals on weapons, how to repair them, how to clean them, how to fire

them, and ammunition ... how to store it, and how to reload it. And here was something unusual:

A History of the United States. He lifted it from the carton and crawled back to the open air.

Leaning against a stone, he tore open the heavy vinyl bag that enclosed the book and began to

read at random, flipping the pages every few moments. On each page something new met his

eye, contradicting everything he had ever been taught.

Freedom is not won, he learned, by proud words and declarations. He remembered a

quotation taught at the University: "Blood alone moves the wheels of history." An Italian

dictator named Mussolini had said that, but now he read of a man named Patrick Henry who

said, "the tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots and of

tyrants." Mao was required reading at the University, too, and he now recalled that this man

called a hero by the State had once said, "political power comes out of the barrel of a gun."

Freedom is never granted; it is won. Won by men who are willing to die, to lose

everything so that others may have that greatest possession of all.

Mentally, he began to list those he could trust. Men who had been arrested for speaking

out. Women whose husbands had been arrested and had never returned. Friends who had been

denied certification because of their father's military record. The countryside seethed with anger

and frustration. These were people who longed to be free, but who had no means to resist ... until

now.

Thomas laid the book aside and then worked the stone back into position, carefully

placing leaves and moss around the base to hide any evidence that it had been disturbed. He

tucked the book under his arm and started for home with the rays of the rising sun warming his

back. He imagined his grandfather's touch in the heat. A forgiving touch.

A long, hard struggle was coming, and he knew with a certainty that defied explanation

that he would not live to see the day America was once again free. His blood and that of many

patriots and tyrants would be spilled, but perhaps America’s tree of Liberty would live and

flourish again.

There is a long line stretching through the history of this world: a line of those who

valued freedom more than their lives. Thomas Adams now took his place at the end of that

column as he determined that he would have liberty, or death. He would be in good company.

[BleedingOrange36 0]

Thank you for the conclusion!

Much better!

This is a very good short story relating to our current situation.

[High Exposure 5,664]

While I like the conclusion to Part 2, I felt like it takes away from the impact on part one. Makes it less powerful.

 

No one that I know that has read "Sunset"

to has seen the end of part one coming the way it does.

 

I think the message of part one is the more important lesson. We, and by we I mean 2A folks, we already know the lessons of part 2.

[JimmyAGR 54]

Thank you for the conclusion!

Much better!

This is a very good short story relating to our current situation.

 

Agree, thanks for the happier ending... I was bummed after the first one.

[BleedingOrange36 0]

While I like the conclusion to Part 2, I felt like it takes away from the impact on part one. Makes it less powerful.

 

No one that I know that has read "Sunset"

to has seen the end of part one coming the way it does.

 

I think the message of part one is the more important lesson. We, and by we I mean 2A folks, we already know the lessons of part 2.

I think being left with the ending of part one was powerful indeed.

But I also feel that reading part 2, hours later was also powerful in its own sense.

Now if only I could find a hidden bunker filled with ammo and firearms....

[alec.mc 180]

[High Exposure 5,664]

 

That actually made me laugh out loud!

[Walt of Destiny 412]

After discussing this story with some friends this morning, a common comment was that it must have been what Nazi Germany and Stalinist Russia were like.

 

However, we also realized something; when oppressive, tyrannical and murderous governments reared their ugly heads, there were other governments that defended those being oppressed and murdered. Even going to world war over it. Should something as heinous as what is portrayed in this work of fiction come to pass, what government would take the USA to war to defend its citizens? We are the last light of liberty left in the world, even with the administration's (and its proxies)efforts to dim it.

 

Who's left? Think about it.

 

Yes, I know that there are currently governments that are brutal and murderous to its citizens. Several in Africa come to mind. We, nor anyone else, do much to help those people. But that discussion is for another time.

[BleedingOrange36 0]

However, we also realized something; when oppressive, tyrannical and murderous governments reared their ugly heads, there were other governments that defended those being oppressed and murdered. Even going to world war over it. Should something as heinous as what is portrayed in this work of fiction come to pass, what government would take the USA to war to defend its citizens? We are the last light of liberty left in the world, even with the administration's (and its proxies)efforts to dim it.

 

No one would help us, we are the last country that stands for true freedom....

The reason we have the constitution is because we are on our own...

The founding fathers knew this.... That's why they wrote it all down...

The rest if the world sees us as crazy, nosey gun nuts.....

They don't have the freedoms we do, therefore they don't see it being a problem if we lose them...

 

[Walt of Destiny 412]

I showed my 13-year old son this video after thinking about it for a week or two. It was tough trying to get through it with him as there is no action in it. I believe he may have really only gotten the part about the kids ratting out his grandpa. I'll give it awhile and have him read the story instead.

 

The gun confiscations in Long Island is what brought this story, and it's message, back to the front of my mind.

 

We must keep the message alive. We are under siege and our opponents and they will not stop. The media uses every opportunity they get to keep brainwashing the population that guns committed the heinous massacre. There was a story on a north east PA affiliate of abc friday night about Connecticut's new laws and the Adam Lanza murders. They recounted the weapons used twice and never mentioned Lanza's name once. They are slowly removing the actor and just leaving the props.

 

They then ended with a shot of the GodKing Mike meeting with a family from Newtown.

 

It is on all-out media blitz. I wish I knew of even a feeble response, from any one or org. Because right know I see not a peep.

 

Dark times.

[Handyman 5,682]

Glad it's a toll free number. I encourage you to all give them a buzz every time you pass a payphone and tell them to eat a turd. Or call in false tips on your favorite legislators and journalists.

[mipafox 438]

The rest if the world sees us as crazy, nosey gun nuts.....

They don't have the freedoms we do, therefore they don't see it being a problem if we lose them...

 

You have no rights. None. In Europe, the governments take most of the rights or their people seriously. They won't do any of the things to their people that we do to ours without due process. Some of the things we do to our people they won't do at all.

[Walt of Destiny 412]

 

You have no rights. None. In Europe, the governments take most of the rights or their people seriously. They won't do any of the things to their people that we do to ours without due process. Some of the things we do to our people they won't do at all.

 

Interesting comments...

 

 

Sent from my iPad using Tapatalk HD

[Malsua 1,422]

Interesting comments...

 

 

Sent from my iPad using Tapatalk HD

 

I spent quite a bit of time in China in 2003-2004. They have less interference in their lives there than we do here for the most part. Want to blow off fireworks? Go ahead, no one cares. Want to build an unsafe ramshackle hut? Go ahead, no one cares. There isn't a local planning commission that you have to pay to put a shed on your property, that has to be built a certain way and be a certain distance from this or that. As long as you don't challenge the government politically, they just don't care about you. Want to open a small business to fix bicycles? Go ahead. You won't have a local tax collector sniffing around looking for his cut. If you get big enough as a business you'll have to start dealing with the government, but as a sole proprietor...no one cares. There aren't rolling tax collectors on the highways. There aren't red light cameras at the intersections. They pretty much just leave you alone.

 

I've also spent a considerable amount of time in Germany. It's a modern democracy and they have more respect for your privacy than the US. They have stricter rules for guns, no doubt about it but Sans guns, I could live there. They have strict speed limits in town and usually just outside of town it's 130kph, but beyond that, no speed limits, no cops. The government is very reasonable about how it deals with you. I would call it very fair and even handed. Mature perhaps.

 

Don't get me wrong here, I don't think we have it awful here or anything, but the US government does not respect its citizens like European governments do. Alternatively, in China it basically ignores its citizens. Our government seems to want to jam it's nose up our asses about everything.

[Walt of Destiny 412]

I agree on the China comment. To the government the people are like ants to you and me. We ignore them, maybe even squash them inadvertently. Until they come I to our house.

 

As for Germany, I am not in agreement. To start a business there is almost impossible. And the resurgence of neonazi groups is concerning.

 

 

[Malsua 1,422]

As for Germany, I am not in agreement. To start a business there is almost impossible. And the resurgence of neonazi groups is concerning.

 

Oh, I'm quite familiar with the oppressive bureaucracy as far as business goes, after all I helped get a factory started and running over there. The German Safety laws are stupidly insane in some areas. My comment was more about a social covenant between the German gov't and its people. They fiercely respect the rights of people and don't routinely trample all over them in the name of security. The government in Germany is an advocate for its people against itself and business, often to the detriment of the business. Just as an example, we have a remote video camera that we gave them so we could help them through technical issues. The camera has to remain locked in a manager's desk because of employee laws that we were or would be violating their privacy. Another example, no workspace can be more than a certain distance to an exit door. This sounds great in theory, but it means that a warehouse manager has an "official desk" near an employee exit and an unofficial desk that he uses near the dock where the trucks pull up. In the event of a fire, apparently he can't walk out of the dock, he has to go out the employee exit. It went on and on and on with them over that stuff.

[Walt of Destiny 412]

 

Oh, I'm quite familiar with the oppressive bureaucracy as far as business goes, after all I helped get a factory started and running over there. The German Safety laws are stupidly insane in some areas. My comment was more about a social covenant between the German gov't and its people. They fiercely respect the rights of people and don't routinely trample all over them in the name of security. The government in Germany is an advocate for its people against itself and business, often to the detriment of the business. Just as an example, we have a remote video camera that we gave them so we could help them through technical issues. The camera has to remain locked in a manager's desk because of employee laws that we were or would be violating their privacy. Another example, no workspace can be more than a certain distance to an exit door. This sounds great in theory, but it means that a warehouse manager has an "official desk" near an employee exit and an unofficial desk that he uses near the dock where the trucks pull up. In the event of a fire, apparently he can't walk out of the dock, he has to go out the employee exit. It went on and on and on with them over that stuff.

 

 

I forgot to bring up the screwy anti-home schooling laws. It's against the law and there is a couple trying to claim asylum here because of them. Our government is going to deport them.

 

 

 

 

Walt