Category Archives: Children of Liberty

Wednesday, August 12, 2009

So, how many people caught the pirated “Good Morning America” broadcast this morning? I didn’t see it myself — newstainment usually does rate high on my priorities for pedaling the generator — but I heard about it from the talk around town. Our broadcast pirates got anywhere from ten minutes to almost an hour of broadcast time (depends on where you were on when ABC managed to get control of the feed back). Even at the ten minute-mark it was enough for some tough questions to be asked of the Bush Administration and a small mob to form in Times Square.

Talk around here is that this is another Children of Liberty move…that they’ve moved to New York City after ‘liberating’ New England. Or maybe it’s a CoL franchise or copy-cat. I’m not so sure. Yeah, these guys were organized, but they seemed more violent than the initial CoL pranks were here in Boston. They also never gave names. CoL always signed their hacks, often with the Crispus Attackus name.

No, I think this is something different…something a less playful and more harsh. I just hope NYC doesn’t end up going through the crap we’ve dealt with around here in the past 6 months. They’ve had enough trouble in the past decade.

Sunday, July 5, 2009

Hey look, TV news is back.

I was never much for the local news even before the Halloween attacks, but one of our neighbors told us to tune in. Crank-up the bike-generator, and check-it out, there’s Governor Patrick having a news conference on the steps of the State House. More importantly, behind him are a bunch of Army folks and a newly shaven (his cheeks were pretty red) Colonel. Yeah, THAT Colonel…the one that’s been leading a leading running fights with the mercs for the past month.

After Deval finished his spiel, he handed-off the podium to one of the Army folks — looking the whole time like he was choking back some of my grandmother’s inedible tuna-noodle surprise. The Army guy, a general according to the network scroll, looked to be doing his best Morgan Freeman impression. And here’s where it got weird.

Major General Jebediah Carlson US Army (un-retired), announced that there was a “fundamental conflict” between serving and protecting the US Constitution and following the orders of of the current occupant of the White House in his role as Commander-in-Chief. He announced that Boston, and the surrounding six New England states, are no longer under the authority of the Federal Government as represented in Washington, DC. He made it clear that he will not require any of the National Guard or regular military folks still in the area to continue to serve. They are free to stand-down or to leave.

After this announcement, the TV camera was blocked for a moment by some out-of-focus pixel-cammo. When the TV guy got the camera up off the tripod and on his shoulder, it showed a swath of military folks, some in modern BDUs, some in the beat-up desert/urban cammo that the Colonel’s vets have been using, all standing at attention and saluting this General.

It was probably staged,,,I know that.  Still, the shot sent shivers down my spine eventhough I was pedalling away on the bike generator.

So now I guess this guy is in charge.  Is Patrick still governor then?  Is he part of a ruling council or something?  Are the Children of Liberty being invited into this semi-military junta?  Or are they behind the whole thing anyway?  Hell, what about the other governors and other states.  Carlson may claim to be speaking for all of New England, but how much does he really have command of…and for how long?

Wrapping this up, some sort of ruckus going on down the street…

Saturday, July 4, 2009

Holy mother fuck.

I don’t know how they could block the transmissions, but I’m willing to bet that they are doing it. So I’m going to tell you what’s going on here in Boston. This is going to be half-assed as hell, because I’m getting my information through Radio Free Boston and some TV news. We’re currently holed up in the basement, but I’m having to sit on Paul to stop him from running out with a shotgun to help.

We don’t have a shotgun. Thank God.

The Children of Liberty have Declared Independence. They have taken the Old State House where the Declaration of Independence is read from the balcony every Fourth of July and they are … reading the Declaration of Independence from the balcony. With one or two very tiny modifications — replacing King George with George Bush, replacing “Great Britain” with “illegal Bush White House”. And, of course, they are calling it “The United New England States of America.”

What’s terrifying is just how the list of grievances seems to have been written just for this particular tyrant, not for one two and a half centuries ago. Paul sprinted upstairs to get a copy of the text and he’s reading alongside, getting very angry.

(He has taken a moment from his ranting to point out, in very lawyerly fashion, that they’ve abbreviated the list of grievances and added a few new ones. But the original ones still remain remarkably relevant.)

There are fire fights as the Thugs try to get to the State House. But apparently, according to the radio anyway, the National Guard is holding them off. The uniformed soldiers are on our side. I’m hearing reports of a general who has come out of retirement, assumed command of the local troops and is directing things at a regional… should I say national? … level.

The Children of Liberty have just declared war. Holy shit.

Friday, July 3, 2009

I admit it, when I heard the Children of Liberty announce a General Strike for this week I didn’t think it would do much.  People need their paychecks and the Fed Powers-That-Be don’t need much from Boston that they are going to miss in a week.

But something is definitely going on.  The mercs have been pushing hard.  They’ve handed-off most of the static jobs (checkpoints, guarding facilities and people, show-the-flag patrols) to the National Guardsmen and instead are doing honest-to-God anti-insurgent raids.  I’ve read a enough of Gen. Petraeus’s Counter-Insurgency Manual to figure that this is one of the “sweep and hold” plans like they used in Iraq a few years ago.  Backwater sweeps; the Guardsmen hold.

OK, maybe I’m extrapolating from rumor on the street and announcements from the radio.  One of the Guard in Davis was a bit too loud in his theorizing while I was at the local food swap this morning.  But that’s what it look like from the cheap seats.

We’re hunkered down and hoping that when the sweeps come to our neighborhood they don’t break too much or kill too many.  I’ve got the rest of this manual to get read.

Thursday, July 2, 2008

We’ve gone to ground.

I was out this morning working the soup kitchen lines — with the food supplies dodgy at best, we’ve stopped being for homeless and started being some folks’ main supply of food. I’ve got plenty at home, because I have a fully stocked pantry and an Irish soul (so says Paul, anyway), but lots of people don’t know how to stock a pantry and they are hungry because there’s no food to be found.

Anyway, I had worked the early shift — as a mom, I’m one of the only ones willing to be on the line at 4:45 — and was walking home just after 10 when I heard some loud, flat POP POP POPOPOPOP noises.

My hindbrain kicked in while my fore-brain was still going, “Whaa?” and I dropped to the ground and rolled off into the bushes.

The guy ahead of me wasn’t quite so smart. He made a noise like a dog getting its tail pulled and sat down,  hard, his arm bleeding. Four or ten or fifty guys with black boots came barreling out of someone’s yard, shouting and stomping. They blew by him and never even looked down. There was more shouting and more POPs and I kept my head down and my body pressed hard against some rose bushes growing out of a fence.

For a minute or two there was silence and then I saw a guy in ratty fatigues and a bushy beard skin out of a small place between a garage and house and go sprinting, silently, down the street. There was some noise and some more of the Thugs came back my way.

One of them saw me, nudged me with his foot. (By which I mean to say, he kicked my leg, but not hard.) “Which way did he go?”

I didn’t have to pretend to be scared and so I pointed. The other direction, naturally, but I still pointed. The guy they had shot apparently wasn’t entirely out of it and he agreed with me.

The thugs moved out. I crawled over to the shot guy — his name was Mike, I learned — and tore his shirt into strips and did a half-assed bandage and helped him up. He said thanks and I offered to walk him to the hospital. He said he’d rather go home.

“Dude, you’ve been SHOT!” I revert to 1980s speak when under stress, apparently.

“I’m worried about being rounding up for a work crew,” he shrugged, looking very pale, almost waxy, and he was sweating with cold clammy skin. I was trying to hard to remember what to do to treat for shock that it took me a minute to figure out what he’d just said.

I dragged him onto a lawn and got his feet up in the air on a bird bath and covered him with one of April’s baby blankets that I had in my bag. While I did this, he told me that apparently for the past two days, the Thugs have been rounding up … well…. any able bodied male and putting them to work repairing the roads.

I thought about that as I knocked on the door of the lawn he was bleeding on. No answer. No answer next door, either, though I heard voices. I finally pulled a couple of beach towels off a wash line and covered Mike in them. I kept him talking, because I recalled dimly that that would help. He heard it from some folks who had heard it from some folks who had heard it…. you know. Anyway, he’d heard that they were rounding men up for work gangs.

I called his wife to come and get him and told her to bring blankets and hot water. She showed up without either, but I put him in the car and let her drive him home. I practically ran home.

I don’t know how true the work gang thing is. I know they are using prisoners, but this press gang thing sounds like a rumor to me.

What I do know is that fighting has finally come to my corner of Cambridge. And none of us are going out of the house until things settle down. I feel like it’s cowardly to ditch my position at the soup kitchen, but I’ve got a family to feed and they have to come first.

Tuesday, June 30, 2009

I saw Dash today.

For those who know his people, let them know.

He looked OK considering nobody had heard from the guy in what, three months?  Everybody figured that he’d been nabbed in one of the early raids after the flag-raising fun on Evacuation Day.  Wow does that harmless stunt seem like a world away now.

Anyway, sorry.

I was checking to see if the Whole Foods at Alewife had anything left worth buying and saw Dash in a orange jumpsuit with a shovel clearing the railroad tracks at the Rt. 16 bridge.  I was surprised to see him working in a DPW crew (hell, I was surprised to see a DPW crew at all) when I saw that all 15 or so of the guys in the work crew were wearing shackles on their ankles.  An honest-to-God chain-gang.  I guess using detainees to do repairs is one way to get things running again.

I didn’t press my luck and ask questions.  The Guardsmen standing around looked like someone had replaced their coffee with vinegar and fish-sauce.

I was just glad to see the guy was in one piece.

Monday, June 29, 2009

Boston is under a general strike.  The call is to shut the city down all this week.

Not a huge difference in my life since I don’t have a steady job to show up at, but it does mean that we’re going to have to use a bit more reserves here and there to get through the week.

So far, the strike seems to be pretty hit-or-miss.  A lot of the poorer folks are going to work regardless of what Radio Free Boston or CoL flyers tell them to do.  More middle-class folks are calling this their vacation week, thus having it both ways.

The place that seems to be having the biggest effect, at least according to the radio, is construction.  Over the past week a bunch of the major boulevards, bridges, tunnels, and rail-lines in the city have been damaged.  Sometimes it seems to be little fire-fights that happened to take place in strategic spots – other times it’s just that things are suddenly broken.  For most Boston locals, this is annoying, but we just go around on our scooters or bicycles or our feet.  It’s the BackWater Hummers and National Guard deuces that can’t get through.

Now the local construction folks, both public and private, aren’t rolling.

Neve is still busy though.  The network of soup kitchens and emergency meal centers that she was plugged into have stopped being emergency.  In Boston today, those church basements are the communal kitchens for the whole neighborhood.  Nobody can afford to eat alone anymore.