MY BRIEF ANALYSIS OF CHARLOTTESVILLE EVENTS ... A COMPARISON TO THE GREENSBORO MASSACRE OF 1979

This is not my attempt to defend the 'Unite the Right' protesters or the Alt-Right position. I do have some experience and much study throughout the years in this subject. My premise is based on a couple of clear facts:

*Police were ordered to stand down by direct orders of the mayor and not arrest anyone unless he was specifically notified. This led to zero protection from law enforcement. They might as well have not been there.

*Communist, Antifa, BLM and other Left-radical, counter-protesters were bused to the event en masse. As we know from recent events, this was guaranteed violence.

*Lastly, event was pronounced an "unlawful assembly" on dubious grounds before it began and attendants were made to disperse and exit through the angry crowd of protesters, by now, were throwing urine, feces, concrete, paint, tear gas and pepper spraying the 'Unite the Right' participants. This was without police escort or protection.

The unfortunate events that followed were the direct result of the police being told to "stand down" and protect no one. The massive and angry crowds on both sides was a powder keg event.

'Unite the Right' was a legal assembly of various groups, many of whom shared racial ideologies, many didn't. This was not a "White Supremacist" rally or a crowd that could be necessarily painted with the same brush. Politically it was a meeting of the Far-Right of various stripes

With the narrative being pushed surrounding the Charlottesville riots, I am reminded of growing up in North Carolina and knowing some of the people and events surrounding the Greensboro Massacre in 1979, where Klansmen driving in a convey to a rally point, were lured by a local police informant into a crowd of angry Communists, in a public housing development, bottle-necked, and unable to get-away, Communist began busting car windows and pulling people out. The Communist were gunned down by the Klansmen in self-defense, as the court ruled in 1980. This event was later known to have been precipitated by local law enforcement under SBI involvement to create a violent confrontation. The idea was to curtail growing membership within the Klan and pass legislation to control both factions.

I think this is exactly what happened in Charlottesville, Virginia and explains the one-sided narrative. From the FBI's standpoint, this was the best chance to implode the 'Unite the Right' movement. It's worth noting there hasn't been a successful unification of the Far-Right. The Feds have been quite successful in keeping the movement very splintered for many decades.

I will add this one item from Patsy Sims book, The Klan I read many years ago that describes exactly the degree of infiltration and control the government had on radical groups as early as the 1960's. Just imagine the control they have now! .... "At one time in 1965, nearly two-thousand of the FBI-estimated ten-thousand Klan members were it's own informers. In letters written in September 1965 to Attorney General Nicholas Katzenbach and a special assistant to President Lyndon B. Johnson, J. Edgar Hoover boasted, "774 (informants) have been developed in just the past year - an average of more than two each day, for every day, in the past twelve months." Hoover was counting only FBI informants. There were also those planted by local and state law enforcement agencies of the Anti-Defamation League of B'nai B'rith. Besides helping to populate the Invisible Empire, the records showed that the program to sabotage the Klan had included psychological warfare by pitting Klansmen against Klansman in an attempt to create among them that under every hood might lurk an FBI agent." The Klan by Patsy Sims, Pg 109.

These manipulated events in Charlottesville also serve to compromise President Trump's connection to his Alt-Right base and Trump's White House Chief Strategist, Steve Bannon. Labeling the Alt-Right as "White Supremacist" fuels the Left and effectively attempts to steer President Trump into a malleable position. Under fear of mass insurrection and Leftist rioting, they have effectively found Trump's Kryptonite.

The Fairies

Why I Believe in Fairies

As I'm getting older my spiritual beliefs have become more nativistic and inclined  towards an ancestral understanding of things. I am much less influenced by the religious monoculture of today, much less by the television and what people tell me is acceptable for me to believe. 

Modern people are removed from nature and so I think they are less likely to witness a fairie or nature spirit. Their spiritual senses have become dimmed as the material world has taken over. This was not true for ancient peoples. I think it's like comparing a domesticated dog to a wolf. While a dog retains natural instincts, these instincts have been curtailed and do not remain to the same extent as his cousin the wolf. The wolf continues to live in a natural environment where senses are crucial for survival. Similarly, humans have been domesticated and despite all the advances made in science and intellect, I believe modern man is less in tune with the natural world around us. As a consequence we are less aware of spiritual phenomena (or those things existing just outside visible light).    

As a child I wasn't led to believe in Santa Clause but I did believe in the tooth fairie. I'd always leave my tooth under my pillow. I'd awake to find 25 cents and my tooth gone. A tradition mom instigated.  I do know that the Tooth Fairie appears very early in Northern European belief going back to the Poetic Eddas. 
Tooth Fairy
Fairy / Faerie / Fairie

I'm not sure if some fairies are simply imaginative while others remain real.  What I am describing is spirits that attach themselves to places, and sometimes, to people or families. They live just outside of our reality and perception; just outside our range of light and vibration. They are just as diverse as people; some good, some bad, some just plain mischievous. 

Fairy Flag of MacLeod - Click on this link for more info.

For the MacLeod's, belief in fairies has been maintained for centuries, down to the present day for some. This alliance with the fairies has reputedly won battles for Clan MacLeod. We have the Fairy Flag, which I saw in 2002 while visiting Dunvegan in Skye. This association with the fairies is very meaningful to me, as it is full of so much lore and possibility. I am not the only MacLeod who feels this way. In World War II our 28th Chief, Dame Flora MacLeod of MacLeod would cut off pieces from the Fairy Flag and give these remnants to MacLeod soldiers and airmen fighting on the front. Of those who carried pieces of the flag, all are believed to have survived. Perhaps the battle standard of our Norse Viking ancestor Harald Hardrada, the infamous 'Land Ravager,' there is nevertheless some kind of connection with the fairies and this flag and our ability to win battles.

In the 1860's my great-great uncle Daniel MacAskill MacLeod wrote a poem for his adolescent son Murdoch Daniel who had just died. He refers to his son having gone to "Fairy climes." This belief in the fairies was a very prevalent belief for MacLeod's and other Gaelic Islanders as well.  

MY PERSONAL EXPERIENCE WITH THE FAIRIES

When I was a small child in Charlotte, North Carolina in the late 1970's I would see what I described as "monkeys" or small little men throughout the house. This went on for some time. While my memory is limited this many years later, I do remember small, hairy men. After my mother having the experience of one little hairy man crawling onto the edge of her bed as she lay awake on the bed. She was a religious zealot and with the best of intentions summoned the church minster who visited the house, anointed the house with oil and performed a form of exorcism. After many years, I have come to believe these were fairy beings, attached to my ancestors, as to me. The Christian explanation of things was either angel or demon. There wasn't anything else, or in between. No grey area of course. 

As I mentioned I saw the Fairy flag while at Dunvegan Castle in 2002. In 2008 I was swimming in the middle of a lake and had my wallet in my pocket. I have always carried a picture of the Fairy Flag in my wallet for good luck. I felt the wallet sink past my leg on its way to the bottom of the lake. My wallet was unrecoverable. Later the next evening there was a knock at my door as someone handed me my wallet and told me they had found it floating on the surface of the water. My money, credit cards and pictures of my daughter were intact and dry! They had recovered my wallet and followed the address on my driver's license.  

Fairy Faith (Part 1)

Fairy Faith (Part 2) 08:50 - Fairy Flag of MacLeod

Fairy Faith (Part 3)

Fairy Faith (Part 4)

Fairy Faith (Part 5)

Fairy Faith (Part 6 of 6)

  

          

My Personal Quotes:

"When making a new friend - be cautious with those that do not have friends."

"Always ACT and never REACT - in everything. This choice distinguishes a man from the lower animals."

"A man inclined to make only female friends cannot be trusted. There is often a deceptive character involved." 

"Sometimes you have to waller in the dirt to realize you want a bath. Swine never make the distinction."

"Women are like chickens -- in that they do not herd. Nothing can be accomplished except with a handful of seeds."

"Love is a decision - never an emotion."

"Temporary solutions more often become life decisions."

"Belief for fearing the consequences of one's unbelief is never Faith - this is called Religion."

"Friends are continual reminders of one's own character - a man without friends is in fear of his own."

"Always leave before you're asked."

"Work and daily routine is the best remedy for dispair."

"Youth is a requiem."

"Ah! To have a poor man's friends and a rich man's money!"

"You cannot choose your father, mother or siblings. But you can choose your friends."

"Dumb it down if you want to be happy."

"If a woman could kill you and then bring you back to life she would."

In the Navy - January 2000

It was on a bitter, cold and snowy day in early January we left the all too familiar Port of Norfolk, Virginia bound for Miami, Florida. It was the storm of the century, and throughout Virginia, the Carolinas and Georgia it was to wreak havoc in the form of power outages. It was this day, though, that stands out in my mind. I can vividly recall the Navy p-coat and watch cap I was wearing that day, as I hurriedly trudged through the knee high, new-fallen snow. With my collar rolled up, and a fresh unauthorized beard to boot, I must have been the quintessential poster-boy for a sailor from a bygone era. My ship’s whistle was blowing, as it prepared to get underway, my only concern at that time was not being left behind. Thankfully, I made my arduous journey in just enough time to be the last man to make it aboard.

Not long after leaving that depressing port of concrete and water, I could only reflect on why I hadn’t gotten a ship in Mayport, Florida or San Diego, California. Looking back, it was just the sort of worries that goes with the rank. It was the familiar rocking of the ship as we approached the Gulf Stream that brought me back to the present, as the ocean ceased to be my reflecting pool. It was back to the duties at hand, and for now I was about to go on watch. My job was a Quartermaster on a destroyer. Unlike in the Army where the acronym QM entails the distribution of clothing, in the Navy we followed in the ancient legacy as one of the oldest jobs on a ship; that of Navigator, but that designation was reserved for our Navigation Department Officer, who we just called “Nav.” One of the more basic rules of our trade was to never use the word map, as it was always referred to as a chart. We advised Captain Pandolfe on our weather predictions, and plotted with compasses the safest course to take. We plotted by celestial and the GPS or Global Positioning Satellite as well. I think it was this convenience that most distinguished us from the Quartermasters of old. Besides that, the job had changed very little in hundreds of years. 

It was back to work, and we were soon to approach the Old Chesapeake Light, which I used to call “Old Chez.” It being a very large water-bowie, for years it has been the first sight of home for many a returning sailor. On a clear day, and upon first glance through binoculars, it almost looks like you’re looking at a deer through a rifle scope, with its’ steel legs supporting its’ slender body. Out there it stood solitaire and lonesome, yet sturdy and confident against the vastness of the Atlantic.

The ocean to me held peacefulness, that is, something man had failed to influence or conquer. I can remember waking at sunup and watching the whales with their calves roll effortlessly against the swells from our ship, as they were often known to follow along the bow. You could sometimes feel the occasional thud, as a whale would collide with the boat. Surprisingly, no damage done to the whale, for you could watch her swim away as though untouched.

As we crossed the invisible oceanic boundary line between Virginia and North Carolina, you could suddenly feel the air warm several degrees because of the outer curve of the Gulf Stream. The water increasingly became a beautiful turquoise, mixed with seaweed floating here and there in the ocean calm. Schools of dolphins by the dozens escorted us into port, and a beautiful sight it was after so many days floating around in the middle of the Atlantic. After my naval experience, entering a city from port is the only way to go. As you approach by land, the sights and smells grow stronger and stronger, with people greeting you from the shore. It truly is a warm welcome unlike any other. The time I had that day in Miami is a book of its’ own. 

The ocean’s mood is ever changing. The vulnerability and isolation one feels in the middle of the ocean, I suppose is overwhelming to some, but to me weeks ran together as if only a few days. To me it holds some of the more bitter-sweet memories of my life and they are never to be forgotten

Dad's Bio:

DAD'S BIO:


My father, "Dusty" was born in 1929 at home in Aberdeen, North Carolina. He was born into a Scots Presbyterian family; into the throws of the Great Depression, the severe economic crisis that crippled the country. I remember him saying in 1930's Aberdeen there were more horses on the road than cars. His father was a master carpenter and building contractor, a jolly, handsome man; a heavy drinker. His mother was a kind and nurturing woman with blue eyes and dark, almost black hair that never grayed. She kept it in little tight bundles on the sides of her head that when she let down reached to her feet.

Dad described his early years in Aberdeen as carefree, often skipping school. He once told me the teachers took his elementary class to Aberdeen Theatre to see the 1939 opening of 'Gone With the Wind.' When at the end of the movie Rhett Butler told Scarlett O'Hara, "Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn!" The teachers gasped in shock and hurriedly took the children out of the theatre. He remembered on Saturday mornings going to watch movies all day, often the 'Three Stooges.' It was 10 cents for the movie and 5 cents for popcorn and a coke!

Dad was a great athlete, playing basketball, football and baseball. He was often seen running up and down Highway 1 in Aberdeen back when it was a dirt highway. I once met one of dad's childhood friend's named McKeithan, who said dad pitched a baseball so hard most guys couldn't catch the ball. About 1948 dad turned down a basketball scholarship at UNC Chapel Hill to play professional for the New York Yankees as a minor league pitcher. He went on to play for many farm teams, even playing with Yogi Berra as his catcher, and he met Joe DiMaggio. He threw his arm out for a season and was drafted into the U.S. Army during the Korean Conflict. He volunteered for the 82^nd Airborne where he trained at Ft. Bragg, and was on a boxing team. Dad was an amazing athlete and a naturally stout man. He would always brag he could beat five men in a fight and I believe he was telling the truth. He even told the story of hitting a man in a bar so hard he was knocked out of his shoes onto the floor where he began choking on his tongue. Luckily, dad saved him from swallowing his tongue. I certainly believed that one back then. To me as a child dad was larger than life. 

Dad first married at 19 to Betty and she mothered three children, two sons and a daughter. Dad completed a pre-med bachelor’s degree at UNC Chapel Hill in 1958 on the G.I. Bill. He went on to be national sales rep for Norge, later Berg-Warner and had big offices in Chicago and Atlanta. During these years dad made great money and drove really nice cars: Mercedes Benz, Cadillacs and Lincolns. He was gone from home a lot, spent a lot of money, philandered a bit, and throughout his life, drank enough to sink a battleship. He was a pool shark and was one of the last men in the Carolinas to make a full-time living doing so. He spent many days on end gambling and playing pool at the back of bars and pool halls. His first family moved around quite a bit. My brother Scott was born in Columbia, South Carolina, one of the many places they lived. I’ve heard it said that when dad was home he was an excellent family man but dad had a rambling spirit and was not really cutout for the domestic life

By this time and throughout the 1970’s and 80’s, dad was an entrepreneur, and was running more than one business of his own: Country Cleaners in Charlotte; installing car washes; and a marble table business he had until the very end. Dad and his childhood friend Mack Blue from Aberdeen founded Carolina Fried Chicken, based on dad’s recipe, with locations all over the Carolinas: from Robbins to Charlotte and Bennettsville, South Carolina. When I was a kid the one in Charlotte burned down. Shortly thereafter he sold the business. Mom said he was in trouble with the IRS.

In his later years dad stayed on the run from creditors. I can remember one such old man with gold jewelry and a dress hat knocking on the door and asking for dad, while dad was slipping out the back bedroom window and running down the sidewalk that ran beside our Charlotte apartment. Scott was working for an oyster bar in Southern Pines when a man dad owed money to came in the back door and stuck a pistol in Scott’s face asking him where his dad was, and said he was going to kill him. Scott just said he didn’t know and hadn’t seen him in a while. I could go on and on with these kinds of stories. Scott’s mom claimed dad was in the mafia. I’m not sure I believe that one. I remember dad didn’t like the singer Frank Sinatra because he was mafia. Dad didn’t seem to like those kinds of people. He called them “crooks.” In the late 70’s while living at North Myrtle Beach where dad had a t-shirt shop, the feds arrested him in the night outside our front door and took him back to Statesville, Iredell County, North Carolina where he was jailed with an enormous bond. The front page papers the next day said “Flimflam man Hits Iredell County.” I think that had something to do with dad using investor’s money to live until he came up with another plan. He took big risks and when the deal went bad, it was really bad. My mother's family was a well-liked Statesville family and so they pulled some strings, got the bond lifted and got him out of jail. 

Dad was a man’s-man and well liked. He always had a wonderfully charismatic personality. He always dressed immaculately in his suits and golf outfits. Scott once said he was at a bar called Flynn's in Southern Pines when the owner Flynn was going to throw Scott out for getting in a fight. When he heard Scott was Dusty's son he said, “I didn't know you were Dusty's son!. Flynn took Scott back into the bar and bought him a beer. Despite the financial ruin of his later years, I think this story best emulates what people thought about him.

 Dad died when I was fourteen. I looked after him those last couple of months.  As he was dying, I can remember him telling me, “Son, go look inside my pants pocket. There’s $500 in there. I’m leaving it to you. Don’t give it to any creditors, or your mother.” I held on to that money for a little while but later gave it to mom. I felt sorry for her.


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