NationStates Jolt Archive

Pro-tect the un-born! Pro-tect the un-born!

Representative Frank G. Anderson smiled politely as he made his way through the small group of protesters that nested that day on the Western Stairs. Of course, he disagreed with everything they said. Of course, he thought they were medieval barbarians – but news spread fast, and if even one of them actually was from his district, there would be hell to pay. So he just smiled politely. They were, after all, his employers. He was nothing more than a public servant.

And besides, whichever stair he took, it would be the same. Today, the Ambivalentira have taken over the Eastern Stairs, protesting apparently agaisnt the ‘evils of greed’ or whatever, the Northern Stairs were covered in members of the Reagan Foundation, and a bunch of NAMBLA supporters perched on the Southern Stairs. The Secret Service guards eyed them with disgust, fingers jammed against the trigger guards of hteir weapons. Thus it was, every day, except with different groups.

Anderson smiled to the crowd and passed through the corridors into the Hall of Congress. And was stunned.

Every day, it was the same. He could not help but feel slightly shocked by the pandemonium that took place here. 5,100 delegates, one per every million Allaneans, sat in the huge building, dressed in everything from traditional Star Trek uniforms, to tuxedo suits – like Anderson himself – to absolutely nothing. Incidentally the man currently speaking – the Republican House Leader – chose the ‘nothing category’.

Ew. Fucking nudist asshole. The Leader was not the kind of person who would be suited by this choice – he was sixty years old, and weighted in at a respectale seventy-five kilograms. It was rumored that he chose this for political reasons, to make his Party sound more liberal than it actually was. On the other hand, it was also rumoured that the man carried a NAA Mini in the rolls of fat on his belly. Neither was something Jackson wanted to ponder on. Ew. Just fucking disgusting.

As the Republican continued – or tried to continue – his speech, several men in what appeared to be fox suits rose from their places, chanting: ’No! More! No! More! No! More!’. Anderson smiled. Business as usual, he thought.

In the meanwhile, three young people – none older than 17, as later investigation would discover – slowly edged their way past the Secret Service Agents patrolling the building of Congress. As of now, they were standing just behind the corner of a members-only entrance straight into the Hall, waiting for their lucky break…

The Republican leader’s speech ended, and he began to descend from the podium. Anderson rose – it was now his turn to speak – and walked towards the old man to replace him – trying not to show how disgusting his attire looked to him.

And the doors fell open.

The youngsters sprang into the hall, throwing red and blue smoke grenades and stink bombs whenever they went, the Congressmen jerking instinctively to the sides as horrible smell and the colored smoke enveloped them. They ran towards the center of the huge hall, towards the defenseless, naked old man, the Secret Service agents running after them.

They approached… they put their hands inside their jackets… and they threw their last ‘weapons’ – three white, beatiful, sugary pies.

Then, the Secret Service agents brought them down. For a quarter of a second, there was a scuffle, then, one of the boys emerged from it, shouting:

‘Liberty for the Outer Worlds! Liberty for the Mainland! Freehold! Freehold! Free…’

Then the Secret Service agents knocked him down again.

Anderson used the opportunity to grab the microphone at the podium and yank the voliume to FULL.

’THIS EVENT, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, ONLY DEMONSTRATES THE FULL FAILURE OF THE REPUBLICAN ADMINISTRATION AND OF PRESIDENT GRAHAM IN PERSON! LOOK! THEY FAIL EVEN TO DEFEND US IN THOSE VERY SACRED HALLS! DOWN WITH THE REPUBLICAN-LIBERTARIAN ESTABLISHMENT! DOWN WITH PRESIDENT GRAHAM!’

It all went downhill from there.

* * * * *

On the day after, the newspapers were full of the most varied headlines:

Nathaniel Shwartz pied by anarchists, Congress in uproar

Anderson [D-Alabama] accuses President of failing secuirty after anarchist group pies Shwarz

Another failure of the Graham administration, Congressman Shwarz pied by anarchists

It wasn’t clear whether this was good for the Freeholders – whoever they were. But one thing was so far clear – this could be very bad for Graham.

OOC: Tag. This is funny. :)

I hate Allanea, and the rest of the world too, with apologies to Warren Ellis

The man sits in the gallery, observing the debate or more properly his own crotch since the man does think his crotch is more important than the Allanean senate, or for that matter most anything except said crotch, and appropriate female crotches. Preferrably in conjunction, but there hasn't been much of that lately.

He likes to think that this is deliberate, keeping his vitriol pure, his political insight, that his personality isn't the best cure for female heterosexuality in the known world. He's right on one part, military-grade Kniootian Gay Spray is actually better.

"Hello you bastards," he mutters. "Your Uncle Spider is taking one for the team today, the team unfortunately including your useless behinds. I hate you. Right now I've travelled to sunny Allanea, right across the fractured worldcurve but at least I'm as far away from those feldgrau humorless centipede bastards as I can get. How was I to know I couldn't lick their flag to get high, I ask you? How?. And so here I am, in sunny Goddamn Allanea, and let me tell you that they've got good dope." He takes a drag on a joint the size of a Havana cigar and continues.

"Bliss, and it's available on the deep-connect feed. Support your Uncle Spider's habit you bastards. It also features me fondling my godlike crotch. Where was I? Right now I'm looking at a crotch that makes mine look truly godlike, some scrawny local geriatric wearing his skin. Did I mention I really hate you all. He could keep a gun in those rolls and I'm told he does.

"Leading me to these twits' sense of taste. They need the drugs, they really do, My filthy assistant is presently being assaulted by smell by a man in an assless fursuit with a tail stuck up his backside. This is not the worst I see by far and I hate you all. And they call this a political process, my loving bastard public."

By now, his tone is almost conversational, eyes glazing. "Loving public... you fascist assholes have no appreciation for the finer points of democracy, like the Allaneans do. You've got your little committees, not letting a goddamn Doctor of Journalism in because he hasn't served in your goddamn military, and it sorta works, but the essence of government is its not working."

"And these Allanean junkies, and good junk it is, have got that down pat. Fifty-one hundred jerks with inflated egos trying to get shit done. And even as I've expounded my Godlike wisdom some kids have rushed about the floor with stink bombs and YEAH! That's the fascist fist of oppression! STOMP HIM! I'm asking the large gentleman carrying me outside, that's you you statist ape, what is the Freehold movement? Answer me, I'm a goddamn journalist! I'll kick your ass!"

The large security goon carries the skinny, rather pathetickally flailing and kicking Doctor of Journalism out almost gently, followed by the Doctor's assistants. The tall, blonde one eyes the goon rather interestedly, and as Spider gets thrown down the hallway ("There you go, sir?") outside she slips him a calling card, smiling.

Edited with some additional vitriol about assorted nations and Spider's readers, the column receives some applause from verbal masochists throughout the Net.

Two days later

’Failure! This is what this about! Failure, pure and simple! The Graham Administration has failed to protect Congress, they have failed to provide Allanea with a real, solid foreign policy, they have failed at each and every single issue! We have descended to a level where youthful houligans come and toss smoke grenades in the middle of the House floor! What next? Knives? Guns? Hellbores? Will there be a limit to the inanity, insanity, and ineptness of Graham’s administration and the Republican-Libertarian coalition? Will there be an end to this?’

Representative Joshua Hamilton [D-Hash] threw back his long rastas – each colored in a different color, pink, red, yellow, green, you name it. ’The Republicans have FAILED to provide education to Allanea’s children, they have FAILED to provide job security to Allanea’s adults, and now they have even FAILED to provide protection to Allanea’s Congressmen! This administratoin has no shame! No merit! Not defense! I stand up here, tall and proud with my brothers and sisters…’ – he took a pull on a joint of Best Afghani – ’…and demand the immediate resignation of President Graham!’

A gale of laughter followed from the observer galleries and the Hall of Congress. Everybody knew that Graham was not going to resign because of such a petty event – nor did Hamilton really expect it. He was playing for PR. ’If he will not resign, I demand at the bare minimum an address to the nation as to the measures he has taken to protect us from another, more serious attack!’.

A new, even stronger gale.

Meanwhile outside of the building, the President’s measures were already becoming evident. Police in deep-blue powered armour stood on the Four Stairs leading up to the Congressional building. In the air, helicopters and light gravitic shuttles kept watch. The police seemed like statued of dark marble, living epitomes of stability among the colorful, chaotic sea of protestors – Anti-Scientologists on the Northern Stairs, Hashi Socialists in the South, The Edoliani Values Movement in the East, and the Egeruo Local Rights Foundation in the West.

But this chaos was nothing compared to the storm that was brewing in the nation’s political papers

* * *.


It has been long known that our nation is not well-beloved abroad. Perhaps with this last outrage on the Congress floor it is finally time to examine why? Here’s what a foreign blogger and columnist has to say about the behaviour of the Congressional Representatives:

"Leading me to these twits' sense of taste. They need the drugs, they really do, My filthy assistant is presently being assaulted by smell by a man in an assless fursuit with a tail stuck up his backside. This is not the worst I see by far and I hate you all. And they call this a political process, my loving bastard public.”

This is the kind of decorum, courtesy, and politeness we observe in our nations most hallowed halls. This is our respect to the Will Of The People. What do we expect the foreigners to make of us?

* * *

A few hours later, in Congress

Representative Hamilton’s wish was granted. While of course Graham did not resign, he decided to indeed address the nation and Congress about his new Congressional Security measures:

’…not only did I not neglect the situation, but in fact I have addressed it in the most direct and efficient fashion I could, given my current resources. I have tripled the amount of Capital Security police around Congress and the Congressional Complexes, I have authorised the use of powered armour on Congressional ground, I have…’

He paused for a second as a man in what certain foreigners would have termed an ‘assless furry suit’ handed him a paper. He read it, nodded, and continued:

’I have ordered police aircraft and Secret Service aircraft to patrol the air above Congress and the Congressional Complexes day and night at 120% the needed daily complement. I have enhanced secuirty in each and every possible way.’

The Republicans and Libertarians cheered of course. One of the younger Libertarians, a man of maybe nineteen with a mohawk haircut, torn levis and a hawaiian shirt, even jumped up on his chair, turned towards the Democrats, and mooned them. Booing and laughter filled the air.

And then, Representative Frank G. Anderson [D-Alabama] got up, putting his phone down. He smiled pleasantly, and waited for the noise to calm down. Then, he spoke.

“Mr. President, then perhaps you ought to tell those security personnel of yours that they missed a goblin on the Eastern stairs, and that they’d better get to their work quick before we all get slaughtered here and now!’

Obviously, he was ‘working for the cameras’. He already knew that the threat was not lethal in the slightest – but he knew that at the moment, it wasn’t important.. His employers – the Viewers Back Home – would absolutely love this segment on television. In fact, he might even get re-elected!

As per the problem…

* * * *

Congress of the Confederate States of Allanea, Eastern Entrance

The security officers stared in blank shock at the large sheet of paper someone stuck to the outer doors of the building. They had no idea when it got there – or how could someone stick this to the Congressional doors behind the backs of so many Special Service and police agents.

They also didn’t know that the sheet was made of high-durablity paper, that was nearly impossible to tear, and that wuold keep the Eastern Entrance blocked for six more hours.

They did know, though, and soon would the media, that the sheet contained a copy of The Covenant of Unanimous Consent (http://www.lneilsmith.com/new-cov.html), reprinted in king-size font.

Heh, thought Anderson as he noted the other Congressmen’s faces when they heard the news, Seems this is not going to look good for Mr. Graham’s PR.. Then he smiled.

I don't know but I think I might!
Jump from an airplane while in flight!


About fifty boys, maybe sixteen to seventeen year old, began to spread around the square that surrounded the Halls of Congress. Trucks full of beige-uniformed Boy Scouts poured into the capital city, bayonets on their M16-A1 assault rifles glinting in the sun. While some people protested the measure, it was clear, by now, that there was a hole in Congressional Security big enough for a big truck to go into – and until it was discovered, Congress was in danger.

Since it was not possible to suspend the proceedings in Congress, all that remained was to double, and triple, and quadruple security until the “hole” was discovered. And since the President could not command the Army into the city streets, he used the Boy Scout Corps, instead.

Soldier, soldier, have you heard!
I'm gonna jump from a big iron bird!

Boys in parade-beige scout uniforms now stood on every street corner. Fifteen Scout Camps were called to assist with the 'mission' - thankfully, summer vacations allowed for this. Tim Watters Naval Scout training corvettes hovered over the city, their turrets swivelling lazily. Those boys lucky to have in their posession a scoped rifle stood on the roofs of government buildings. It wasn't, of course, very efficient - but it was better than nothing.


When my plane gets up so high!
Airborne troopers gonna dance in the sky!
Stand up, hook up, shuffle to the door!
Jump right out and count to four!

The Robert Artur Heinlein Scout Troop entered the city jogging, carrying the locked-and-loaded Thompson submachineguns that were the trademark of their particular Troop - the one that used weapons from a factory making the things to hold off a joint Yurkan/Vaadi/Felinian advance. Today, being a member of RAH was a special privilege - although nobody could be certain why having to hump a Tommy gun about was all that cool.

If my main don't open wide!
I got a reserve by my side!
If that one should fail me too!
Look out ground, I'm a-coming through!

From the sea, cheap Soviet-type hovercraft came in, carrying Sea Scouts wearing green neckties, hooting and screaming as the hovercraft hit beach, the combat loudspeakers blaring at full-strength. The Scouts cheered loudly as they rushed ashore.

If I die on the old drop zone!
Box me up and ship me home!
Bury speakers all around my head!
So I can rock with the Grateful Dead!
Bury speakers all around my toes!
So I can rock with Axel Rose!

Even as the Scouts landed, the newspapers already prepared their new methods of attack on President Graham. It seemed that the media journalists have finally latched on to their prey, and they were not willing to let go of it just because a few hundred children with machineguns were strutting around the capital.

President uses child soldiers to protect capital

If Freeholders try violence, is sacrificing children's lives truly worth it?

Former military source: President endangering highschoolers.

The headlines were already being typed up as the first Scouts rushed into the city. And in the meanwhile, Representative Harold H. Friedman [L-New Montana] walked out of his rented house on Jefferson Avenue and began walking towards his car. In twenty-four hours, he would not be in the city - and then, the new stage in Freehold resistance would begin. Everything was going according to the plan - and the Boy Scouts were a key part of it.


If I die on an Omzian hill!
Take my watch or the commies will!
If I die in the Hogsian mud!
Bury me with a case of Bud!
Put my wings upon my chest!
And tell my Mom I did my best!

Very well, our men are out of there, Roger.

The old woman who said those words put down her binoculars, eyeing for the last time a dark-blue SUV exit the city, the Congressional plates identifying it clearly as the property of Representative Hugh Salomon, L-West Virginia. She locked her laptop closed and began to walk towards her own car, an ancient Ford Expedition modified with a cold fusion drive engine, and began to take it off the hill.

Within five minutes, she was on the Lysander Spooner Interstate Highway, doing 175 miles per hour. For Amanda Phillips, a former Risk Race driver, this speed was nothing – even though she was sixty-seven years old.

In the meanwhile, on hills around the city, people in light green camoflage – similar to that worn by many farmers in the Confederate colonies - worked at a frantic pace doing refittings on small turboprop aircraft. Tanks filled with a strange pinkish liquid were installed inside the hull and on the wings. Cropdusting equipment was checked, and so were the computers.

Fifteen minutes later, a man standing atop of one of the city’s few and rare office buildings began to put on his gas mask. He opened a laptop, and began to type. Three words. Thirteen letters.

It’s show time.

Around the city, sixteen jolly-colored cropdusters accelerated off their makeshift runways, making their way low, low towards the city. The wannabe farmers broke off in a run, spreading away from Port-Allanea – some in cars, some catching Greyhounds, some jumping onto passing Allanea-Rail carriages. By the time the cropdusters were over the outskirts of the capital, you could not find one of the people launching them at the runways.

At first, there was nothing special about the planes. They blended right in with the traffic of small private aircraft over Port-Allanea, their happy colors not differing much from the cloud of ultralights, Moller cars, gravimobiles and helicopters. But far, far above, in an orbiting Profit-class freighter, the final key to the plot was turned.

Another man behind a laptop moved a mouse cursor to select one of the craft, just as it flew over several trucks full of Girl Scouts. Then, he pushed the Enter button.

Something clicked in the happy colored craft, and the cropduster began to work, hosing the girls down with a barely-perceptible – but pleasant-smelling pinkish – cloud. Then it passed on, the automated program aboard the ship guiding it towards other crowds in beige.

Soon, other aircraft began to work as well, hosing down groups and teams of Boy Scouts, Girl Scouts, and every large amount of people they could find in the city with the material Two flew over Congress, the pink substance sucked in by the immense air conditioners servicing the building.

The Tim Watters Scout Training ships took notice of it – and reacted a bit too late. As two of the aircraft ran out of their ‘payload’, they began to flee towards the sea. The pilots of two of the training vessels saw it as an opportunity to destroy the craft – without harming any of the citizens below. Two short bursts of 30mm autocannon – and the cropdusters became small clouds of wood ships and smoke coming down slowly over the ocean – but of course, too late.

The men aboard the Profit simply giggled as the other aircraft turned and fled to their doom. All was going as planned, and the patrol spacecraft have destroyed the evidence for them.

Then, someone pressed a final button – and, in warehouses around the city, remote-controlled devices opened several pressurized tanks, unleashing huge clouds of the pink substance over key points in the capital. Now, the attack was complete.

The Profit turned, it’s passengers laughing as they looked at the pinkish clouds of military-grade dual-purpose hormonal aphrodisiacs, and set course for the colonies, leaving the biggest impromptu orgy in Allanea’s history behind.

It would be several hours before the first distress calls would exit the capital.

The man watched the reports on his desk. Was this the right time? The Reich political influence had long been weakened in Greater Prussia. Could this be a possiblity to increase it.

They knew that the current leadership in Allanea was under intense pressure. If they could provide them with a way out...

Their intelligence had identified a person called Harry J. Moore, Senator of the Allanean state of Missouri. A person who so far was not soiled with the reputation of their president. A person who could be aided to gain control. Just blame the right group, He thought.and with the right funding the power can be yours. He looked at the picture in front of him and then lifted the telephone and gave the order to his agent.

A first contact would be made. Blood and Honour all over again. Slobodan smiled to himself.

-tagged-

From the Orbital Shipyard in high Earth Orbit, CEO Kargaah surfs the imperial datafeeds. With all the fighting and insurrections going on, there has to be some way to make a profit. The newsfeeds from the Silent Eyes satt-hack network pop up an Allanean newsbreak and some choice headlines from the newspapers of the afore-mentioned country, and Kargaah watches it.

President uses child soldiers to protect capital

If Freeholders try violence, is sacrificing children's lives truly worth it?

Former military source: President endangering highschoolers.


Originally Posted by ”Allanea-Times”
It has been long known that our nation is not well-beloved abroad. Perhaps with this last outrage on the Congress floor it is finally time to examine why? Here’s what a foreign blogger and columnist has to say about the behaviour of the Congressional Representatives:

"Leading me to these twits' sense of taste. They need the drugs, they really do, My filthy assistant is presently being assaulted by smell by a man in an assless fursuit with a tail stuck up his backside. This is not the worst I see by far and I hate you all. And they call this a political process, my loving bastard public.”

This is the kind of decorum, courtesy, and politeness we observe in our nations most hallowed halls. This is our respect to the Will Of The People. What do we expect the foreigners to make of us?

From his sunning-slate in the Hydroponic Swamp aboard the shipyard, a low rumbling chuckle can be heard resounding throughout the chamber. Oh, this is rich. I may present this to the entertainment community for prime-time programming. Footage of antiquated aircraft dusting the port-city with some manner of pinkish chemical, and the footage of the ensuing 'events' brought outright laughter from him.

"Oh, yes. Definitely worth a prime-time slot! Oh how those mammals fill my spleen with joy with their frolicksome antics." He stands, places his robes over his shoulders like a cape, and makes his way to exiting the Hydroponic chamber. A finger taps his ear-bud. "Zeert! Record the footage on the Imperial Newsfeed, and compile it. I'm going to be doing some creative editing with my spin-team tonight. And brainstorm some amusing titlings for me. Something worth a quality humor show. "Those Darn Mammals" or something like that."

An affirmation is given through his earbud. "And while i'm at it, monitor that satt-hack, and record everything pertaining to that situation." More affirmations are given even as the doors shut behind Kargaah, leaving the faint echoings of uproarious laughter in their wake.

Morning of the day after

Alert! Alert! Alert! This is the Port-Allanea Police Department, something strange is going on here, Alert! Alert! This is not a drill, this is not a drill!

Kalandian State Militia troops rushed of their homes, screaming and cursing as they pulled their gas masks on and grabbed weapons and first aid kids. The most precious Allanea had was in danger – her children.

Even now, when the streets of Port-Allanea were covered in the pinkish residue of the combat-grade aphrodisiac, the hospitals of the city were being filled – with people who have died from an overdose of the hormonal stimulant, whose hearts were too young or too old to take the pressure, people who have been killed because of the disruption in city traffic and the failures of electricty to two areas of the city. So far, three hundred Boyscouts, five hundred civilians, and fifty members of Congress were dead. The numbers were mounting.

Go, go, go, go! – CREST agents and law enforcement kicked out the doors on the residences of suspected terrorists. None of the people who were on the list of most likely participants were found in their homes. In the meanwhile, the city still needed help.

So more cries for help went out to the Tiburonese and Imperial authorities, as well as to any other forces in the sector. And even as it went, thousands were evacuated into nearby hospitals – allergic reactions, psychological shock, minor injuries from traffic accidents. The party may have been pretty innocent compared to a normal terrorist attack of that scale, but it was by no means harmless.

* * *


1. The Thelasi Star Empire [below: the STE] and the Confederate States of Allanea [below: the CSA] will hereby consider themselves at peace.
2. An embassy and consulate exchange will be initiated between the two nations.
3. The CSA and the STE will hereby agree to non-aggression between them, and will use diplomatic means to resolve any disputes between the two from now on.

Signed,
Lord Kelairith,
Ambassador Kewerki


The treaty was published by the President only six hours after the dust settled – literally – from the attack. Some viewed it as a great foreign affairs accomplishment. A growing amount of people, however, viewed it only as a desperate attempt to break the circle of bad press. Really bad press:



Our international reputation has sunk to its lowest low. Foreign media now broadcast our misfortunes as a form of weekly comedy show. The Confederacy is now considered as a dwelling for barbarians at best, funny animals at worst. The Sakkrans are in fact already working on a television show to that very tune.

But what is the Graham Administration do about it? Do they fix things? Oh no. Instead, they use children as human shields. Instead, they frolick about and sign useless ceasefires with Thelas. Instead, they continue to run the country towards the same jingoistic ruin as the Blix administration has driven us to.

Unless a real change not simply in policy, but in Allanea’s self-perception as a nation and a society, will come, nothing will change. We will see another One-Day War, another Wolf War, more chaos and mayhem.

This mayhem you see in the streets is not the result of a random terrorist attack. It is the result of genetic and cultural failures of our people. Our enemy is not some faceless idiot with a chemical device.

Watch the recordings of congressional debates, where there representatives of popular will jump about in the nude, without the minimal respect to each other, the opinion of the foreign government on whose respect our trade and success depends – and you will see what truly threatens us.

We have met our enemy.

And he is us.

It was a nice evening at the fancy restaurant as Harry J. Moore, Senator of the Allanean state of Missouri was puffing a cigar offered by the people who had invited him to this dinner. They had introduced themselves as patriotic worried citizens and they had a proposition.

-"We represent a large group of very influential worried citizens. We still believe in the potential of the conservative party but we need a change. We need someone strong and untainted that can guide or nation in this time in need. We believe that you are that man senator..."

The Senator lowers his cigar, looking at the newcomers questioningly. "Oh, I definitely support my party. But look in the streets! We've hit rock bottom here. This bastard Graham is going down, and there's no saving him - and he's going to pull the Party down with him, too."

“We agree that Graham is not the right person to lead our country. We need someone of the right stuff, someone who can save our party in this time of need. Tell me, why did you become a politician, senator?”

"I wanted to protect the culture of my state. To protect it from being taken over by the same libertines, like Graham, that now run my Party and my country."

One of the men took another deep inhale from his cigar, yes he DID inhale, and let it out in a small smoke ring. “I think we have a solution that can help you save your party and your country Senator.”



Port-Allanea

The printing press of Freeman's Herald had never worked for such a long time in a row. The new owners had ordered an edition ten times as big as the normal and "a newspaper on every lawn". The newspaper would be pressed in twelve different states compared to the usual four and the smell of ink was strong as the big rolls methodically rolled out line after line of the conservative paper. Hundreds of extra paperboys had been hired and this morning many Allanean citizens would wake up with a fresh copy of a complimentary Freeman's Herald on their porch or in their mailbox, courtesy of the patriotic owners who saw a great need.



Every government has its mistakes, ours too. That is not in itself bad, since they mostly disappear on their own or with time. The important thing is that those in charge keep their eyes open, and do not remain silent when they ought to speak out of fear of the public. Obviously, an historic government of vast extent brings a mass of nonsense to light along with its enormous benefits.

It becomes dangerous only when the nonsense is left to grow, thus hemming in and strangling the healthy, organic development of the Nation.

Certainly there is need for public regulation of the great moral foundations of our national life. However, some nonsense is also spreading that attempts to reach beyond that to establish a code for the purely personal conduct of individuals.

Peculiar people whose life is either behind them, or have no right to have one ahead of them, preach moralism in the name of our Nation. This moralism often has nothing in common with true morality. They proclaim ethical laws that might be appropriate for a nunnery, but are entirely out of place in a modern cultural state.

These same moralists often turn to governmenet offices with the request to ban films, plays, operas, and operettas, since the dancers, stars, etc., apparently represent a grave danger to public decency. If we gave in to their demands, we should soon see only old ladies and men on the screen or the stage. The theaters would be empty, since the public generally does not attend them to see the same people they see in church or old people's homes

Save us from these hypocritical creatures who have no genuine strong conception of life, and who in reality preach no honest morality. They generally are life's losers, protesting life itself. Eternal life and its laws will hardly make way for them; at most, they will hide behind a screen of contemptible hypocrisy and dishonest prudery.

This has Gone Too far.

Hundreds of our nations children are dying on the streets and why? Is the government too weak to act against the problems we have in our nation? Because it is not the morale that is the problem in our nation it is the moralists.

We have become a nation talking about morale but not living it! The Graham administration has brought us peace. It is a dearly bought peace where our people has been forced into strange customs from strange races. Should we let all those who have died, have died in vain?

Once we were a proud nation! We survived and we prospered! But like a flock of sheep that is lost it is time for a new shepherd to guide the flock. Someone strong enough to take the decisions that is painful but is best for our great nation. Someone with fresh ideas following a formula we KNOW works. Because what has the other parties proved to us but a sure path to oblivion?

Support the conservatives, in this time of greatest need for Our nation! Support great leaders like Harry J. Moore who stands like a shining beacon in this time of trouble. Men that are not afraid of doing the right thing!

Politics is like a game. In any political process there will be people – sometimes among the most talented and dedicated activists – that would support their party not because of its ideas, its members, and its policies, but because it was their party. Sometimes this goes on for generations – “My Granpa voted for them, my Daddy voted for them, and I vote for them, too!”

There were people like that among the Republican Party activists in Allanea, as well – and as the rumour went through the country about Harry Moore’s possibile bid for the Presidency, dozens of people – the hardened core of the Republican constituence – clung to him as the man who would, even in the aftermath of Graham’s failure, keep the Conservative cause alive.

Officially, however, Harry Moore from Alabama has not yet announced anything like that – if only because it was still too early for election campaigning – and he has vocally opposed those in the Senate who called for the resignation of President Graham. In his home state, it has earned him the reputation of that roc’s tooth thing, the honest politician. All in all, the campaign was rolling on quite nicely.

In the meanwhile, other things happened. The C.R.E.S.T. has discovered – and mind you, it wasn’t like it wasn’t painfully obvious – that the first two ‘attacks’ on Congress could not have happened without assisstance within the building – perhaps a Secret Service agent, perhaps even a congressional assistance or a Representative. Accusations flew – and then someone noticed that on the day of the attack, ten Congressmen from the Outer Colonies have left the capital – eight Libertarians, one Republican, and one Democrat.

All hell broke loose.

The Libertarians were now being viewed as semi-anarchists, allies of the Freehold organisation proper – nevermind how often and how loud they denounced the group. Television companies ran wall-to-wall footage of every Boy Scout’s funeral. They were buried in military coffins covered with the Confederate Flag, with full honors. Closeups on the small coffins were given, on the weeping mothers and families, and on the President as he again and again condemned Freehold:

”Those misbegotten anarchists, those demented spawn of what was originally a noble ideology, are ever move vile because of how they corrupt the philosophy of freedom and of personal rights on which the Confederacy is based. It was once said that Democrats want Government to be your Mommy and Republicans want it to be your Daddy. Freeholders want to kill Mommy and Daddy so they can stay up late and eat lots of ice-cream”

He had omitted the Libertarians – obviously classing them with the Freeholders. But because he did not say so overtly, the LP-CSA had no grounds for a libel suit. And the move was one of genius – deftly sidestepping the Libertarians, preventing them from drawing from the Republican base, and making the race once again a straight-up Republican/Democrat fight.

Of course, the Democratic National Committee was preparing a blow too. It was a very simple one. A picture was distributed – one probably taken in violation of six military regulations – of the inside of an Antonov cargo jet flying from Port-Allanea to Merkaz, with forty coffins covered by Confederate flags in it. The caption under the photo read: Nobody of those people are over seventeen years old. So much about dedication to our nation’s children.

A Democrat leader came now to the front. It was Mathew S. Harrison, a Democrat Congressman from the state of Merkaz. He was previously known by authoring several failed education reform acts. Now he played on this, ruthlessly.

The President has not lent his support to the Protect Every Child Act nor to the Keeping Children Off The Street Act. The President has abandoned the education of Allanea’s children. The President has used our children as living shields to further a policy of fake security of the capital. Two hundred forty-three boys and girls are now dead. Is it not time now, in memory of the dead, to endorse and vote for my Child Protection Act and truly fulfil our duty to the children of our nation?

The Boy Scouts of Allanea filed a protest noting that legally, those between sixteen and eighteen years old were adults – they could after all carry guns, vote, drive, and so forth, even though in most states they’d be still eligible for free public schooling. Nobody listened. The phrase President Graham doesn’t care about children stuck to him like glue.

Memebership in the Boy Scouts – and Girl Scouts - fell, especially in the age groups 16-18, which could legally be used during a national emergency. In the first five days after the disaster, six thousand memberships were now handed in, all over Allanea. In one school, a Boy Scout recruiter was beaten up by irate parents.

Strangely, the people most often protesting the Scouts would not be those who had children there – and sometimes, those who never even had children of their own. An Allanea Times editorialist wrote, in particular:



The question arises, why do we even need the Ministry of Education to be sponsoring the Scouts? The sustainment of a paramilitary organisation tasked with the desensitizing of approximately twenty-five million children, and their preparation to be used as child soldiers in another needless war is not exactly something one would expect in a free country such as the Confederacy.

Perhaps, if the Confederate government used the money to teach our children some good manners, there wouldn’t be a next war for the children to be used as cannon fodder in. But forgive us that thought. Naturally, patriotism is way more important than Latin, Greek, or politeness.

A small fund was created with the motto: "Harry Moore for president!". It was started by concerned citizens and somehow it was advertised in a lot of different media. According to some newspapers the collection already had gathered several milions and people kept donating money. The newspaper Freeman's Herald had a picture of two school classes looking into the camera with sad eyes saying: "We want to be safe! Why do they want to kill us?"


The newspaper also wrote in the editorial



A sad and moving occasion brings me back today to the city of my youth. I stand here to bid farewell to the dead of Port Allanea, victims in the ruins left by Freehold terror. Before the Front and the Homeland, I bow with pride and sorrow before the civilian dead, who paid for their loyalty to Allanea with their lives. This moving ceremony is particularly sad for me, since it affects a city in which I spent the best years of my life.

Countless proud memories bind me to this city, its people and the entire province. I return today to bid farewell to the dead of this city. Among them are many people dear to me, with whom I have passed countless hours of joy and pleasure, but also sorrow and disappointment in the eternal struggle for the truth.

I stand amidst you, my fellow citizens, to say that this province is not fighting alone at some lost position. The entire Allanean people is with you, and surrounds you with love and loyalty. With proud admiration the nation watches the tough, bitter endurance of this part of our people in the face of enemy terror. The terrorists may leave cities and villages in sorrow and ashes, but can never break the human heart. The enormous sorrows and burdens, pain and tortures that are laid on the shoulders of this population are part of a larger war.

The Allanean nation is resisting with unanimity and the strong hearts of men, women and children. With unprecedented moral strength, they are withstanding the enemy's insidious attacks, its cowardly assault on their national honor, unity, and steadfastness, Our dead are their witnesses. We are obligated to them. As we lay them in mother earth, we know that they repose in the same grave of honor in which any of our heroes sleep. They Allanean people receive their inheritance. They day will come when we will take revenge for them.

To do so We need to stand united under One leader, whatever political flavor we have. Our nation is under attack! Who is going to defend it? Who is going to protect our children? Our nation needs a change, an honest person to lead this nation, someone that can put an end to our corrupt politicians filling their own pockets at our expense, someone we can build our pride on.

That man Is Harry Moore.

Tag

A picture of President Graham together with some people with known Freehold relations was cabled out to a wide range of news bureaus at the same time. Freeman's Herald published it on their first page:



.
Graham in Secret Negotiations with Freeholders!

Seen on this picture is president Graham together with two democrats discussing with people with known relations to Freehold. According to our sources they are discussing an agreement outside parliamentarian rule.

How could this happen? Even if there was no support the pure inactivity sentenced our children to death and some says that some members of the current administration even aided the terrorists. To miss that constitutes an act of criminal incompetence at the very least on part of Mr. Graham..

In this time of War, because it is War. We need a leader untainted of weakness. Someone who can deal with terrorism in the most efficient way. Such a leader is NOT a democrat, but someone with great personal strength and determination. We need a warleader! We must change so we can feel safe in our own homes

OOC: Since most of people that were supposed to be partaking are not posting, I’ll draw this thread to a rapid close.

IC:

Announcement of Election Results: Official From the Confederate Elections Commission [CEC]

Today, the Confederate Government is pleased to announce new election results. This time, new political parties have emerged on the Congressional scheme – creating an entirely new method of political life. We are pleased to welcome the freshmen Hamiltonian, Constitutionalist, and Ambivalentira congressmen into office.

Ambivalentira -: 400
Constitution Party - 140
Democrat - 1,800
Hamiltonian – 245
Libertarian -1,210
Republican – 1,005

It is expected that the new President will rule basing his power on a coalition of Democrats, Hamiltonians and Ambivalentira in Congress. The Republicans and Libertarians still hold a Senate Majority, where the votes are divided as follows:

Ambivalentira - 1
Democrats – 23
Libertarians – 20
Republicans - 22

The name of the new President, backed by both the Hamiltonians and the Democrats, is Pyotr Klochkovsky. The vice-president is Abdallah Mahmoud al-Ibrahim.