Thailand – Retirement Escape from Marxist Amerika… “Escape cultural Marxism, PC, Etc… ” – henrymakow.com
Here in Thailand, I rarely see a policeman. I have no idea what the police do all day, but they don’t seem too eager to prey on the freedom of the local people. There isn’t the heavy hand of government here, so you can sense a joy of living, a positive outlook, that has disappeared in our Western countries.
AP/Yahoo ^ | November 7th, 2011 | HOLBROOK MOHR
Posted on Monday, November 07, 2011 4:50:19 AM by markomalley
Before Toyota came, Cassius Perry was struggling like many in this hilly, sparsely populated region of north Mississippi that’s shed thousands of furniture manufacturing jobs since the 1990s. The young father of three went to school to be a barber, but ended up working for a salvage company while he held out hope for something better.
This year Perry landed good pay and health insurance when he went to work for a supplier to the sprawling new Toyota plant on the outskirts of the tiny town of Blue Springs. Hundreds have been hired, giving local leaders hope that their area will become another Southern automotive boomtown. The plant is finally set to begin production on Nov. 17, following more than a year’s worth of agonizing delays.
“It changed my whole life around. I was struggling before I got this job. It made a difference for me, my family, my kids and even my church. I can pay tithing now,” said Perry, 22. “The benefits make the difference. I don’t want to be 30 and stacked up in medical debt.”
Conservative bozos of immoderate idiocy fantasize, as mentioned, of sending the Marines. Oh sure, that will work. The Pentagon couldn’t win a rigged lottery, much less a war. Mexico, especially in the godawful, broken, infernally impassible mountains where the dream-weed grows, is perfect for displaying the clownish incapacity of the Nintendo military.
The GIs don’t know the territory, most don’t know the language, the people, or the culture, but they can yell “Ooo-rah!” really well. That’s because it has only two syllables.
Nothing can change things except the utter collapse of the US economy and the burning of its cities, a singularity the other side of which is not visible. Any possible solution would require a decision. The US no longer does decisions. It can neither stop the drug traffic nor legalize it.
It can neither win wars nor abandon them, neither make money nor stop spending it, neither stop immigration nor assimilate the immigrants. Washington can beat its thumb with a hammer, yes, and notice that it hurts, but it can’t stop beating its thumb. That would take a decision, and Washington doesn’t do decisions.
As a P.T. (often referred to as perpetual traveller, permanent tourist or prior taxpayer), I have travelled to nearly 100 countries. During those travels there has always been one defining moment, upon entry into a country, which shows that the country is what is generally thought of as a “third world country”.
It is the moment when, upon arrival, you are charged a fee to enter the country. The reason generally being that the government of the country has so destroyed the economy and/or they have so little understanding of what creates wealth that they think that the way to make their country prosperous is to charge a fee upon entry rather than allowing people to enter freely and transact, trade and spend their money in the economy. Either that or the government is so desperate for money that it uses this as a significant source of revenue.
The US has long-used “visa application fees” to bilk money from people in countries like Thailand as a way to raise money but now the US has announced that they are going to charge a $5.50 fee to Canadians upon entering the US.
The fee is ludicrous and counterproductive for many reasons. Not least of which is making it five dollars and fifty cents, ensuring that payment of the transaction will take twice as long as normal to make the extra change. Canadians who are one of the only large groups of people still bringing some economic activity into the US will both be turned off by having to pay to enter the US but also by the extra long lines to enter as they make change for this fee.
Not to mention the hilarity of calling it an “inspection fee”. Does this mean that if we would not like to be inspected then we don’t have to pay?
CHECKPOINTS POPPING UP EVERYWHERE IN THE US
Fred On Everything
Fred On Everything:
EXCERPT ONLY ~
….. Nothing can change things except the utter collapse of the US economy and the burning of its cities, a singularity the other side of which is not visible. Any possible sollution would require a decision. The US no longer does decisions. It can neither stop the drug traffic nor legalize it. It can neither win wars nor abandon them, neither make money nor stop spending it, neither stop immigration nor assimilate the immigrants.
Washington can beat its thumb with a hammer, yes, and notice that it hurts, but it can’t stop beating its thumb. That would take a decision, and Washington doesn’t do decisions.
People email me, asking where I would go if I were trying to get out of the crumbling US before the roof falls in. Argentina. Thailand. Viet Nam. China. Pederably to a country without oil. Chile. Maybe Uruguay. Almost anywhere in Europe if you can afford it. Mexico is a fine place, but getting dicey. Very dicey……
Judgment Day May 21, 2011
Bageant Moves On
We don’t last, and there’s no warranty.
March 27, 2011
This will mean little perhaps to those who do not know Joe Bageant, but I write it for those who do. Or want to, which makes sense.
Jocotepec, Mexico–Joe lived awhile down the lake. We would visit him of an afternoon, Vi and I, and find him, a bear of a man, bearded mountain Buddha, writing on the porch of his one-room place in Ajijic. Always he wore his old fishing vest, in which I suspect he was born, and sometimes he carried a small laptop in one of its pockets. Usually we adjourned to the living room, which was also the bedroom, dining room, and salon. He would fetch bottles of local red, or make the jalapeño martinis he invented—there was a bit of mad chemist in him—and we would talk for hours of art, music, the news, politics, and people. Especially people. Sometimes he grabbed one of the guitars from the wall and sang blues, at which he was good.. I guess growing up dirt poor in West Virginia puts that kind of music in you.
Joe could fool you. He talked slow and Southern, lacked pretensions, and you could talk to him for weeks without realizing how very damned smart he was.
via Fred On Everything.