1969; Then, Now, and Forever

What if we could go back, and when we did we did something so horribly wrong that it threw the world off? What if we did it and we found ourselves lower on the totem pole of life? What if?

1969 is a year that many of us who have retained our education consider, “The year that will forever live in infamy.” Someone said that. It was… It was someone famous. Even now, in my mind, I know that it was someone famous. But, time clouds the mind, and the God damn drugs the squirrels feed us destroy our capacity to think as rational humans. Let’s just say I lost that bit of my memory. It truly is a shame that man was given the ability to travel back in time in the first place, let alone to that infamous day which the common man will never speak of again, for fear of punishment by The Squirrel. And yet… The mere penning of this declaration is in direct violation of over 666 Squirrelian laws and Homo-Sapien Control Regulations, so I suppose naming the date doesn’t truly make a difference at this point.

With that said, know that never within this document will I reveal my true name or identity, as to do so would put many fellow human lives in direct and immediate danger. You must understand, reader, just speaking out like this already puts a serious strain on the stranglehold The Squirrel has already locked on the world. I ask you to listen to my story, dear reader, and I ask you to believe. Believe that it is true that I am, in fact, human. Believe that I did indeed write the words before you. Believe that I am not some monstrosity; some hybrid, squirrel-trained human. Believe that the hair on my body is only thin, except for that on my head, which there is none of now. Believe, I beg of you, in the dream of a humanitarian future.

Life in these past forty-two years has been nothing short of terrible for all those who value their free will and natural rights. Those same human rights that John Locke once preached for have been stripped bare, laying waste to any brave enough to fight back, ultimately alienating the few. Sitting here at my typewriter now, I am an elder man, constrained by the limits of a human body, but not by the capacity of my mind and my soul. My age still unknown to even the most undercover of squirrel spies, sets me far beyond the allowable age before mandatory euthanasia, but, I suppose, such a thing does not truly matter. Though I do not care to give out my name, even if The Squirrel could decipher it from this declaration, they could never do anything more to me. They have taken my land, taken my wife, taken my livelihood, and taken my title. Should they come banging their tiny, nefarious fists on my front door, their most gruesome of death machines in hand, they would not be killing me. Like the great Rocky Balboa, I would take them to round twelve and go down fighting. But I ramble"forgive me.

I dare say the date was… August 15, 1969. The event was Woodstock.

Looking back now, it almost seems as though the killing of that singular, insignificant squirrel, (Known universally now as the “Father Squirrel”) was almost unavoidable. My partner (henceforth to be referred to simply as “M”) and I had been observing of the construction of the primary stage to be used in the Woodstock festival, when we noticed just how long we had actually been gone, having time traveled to this point in the past. Both M and I decided that it was time to pack up our belongings and return to our 69’ Vett and drive off to the present. What “present” that would be? We had absolutely no idea. Though both of us shared knowledge of the infamous “butterfly effect,” studies on such ideas in the scientific world had proved minimal at best. You could change what someone had for breakfast one morning, but history always seemed to have a way of correcting itself, regardless of what actions you took. Somehow history was keeping a pocket ace and not giving any signs.

Even in this bleak existence we now live, looking back at that 1969 Corvette Stingray I still think, what a freaking sweet car man; and I even foam at the mouth when I think about the things that girl could do if you showed it the right amount of love. As we were leaving Bethel we decided to cruise a bit before we “flipped the switch” and teleported back to the present. Our joy ride came to an abrupt end, however, when a band of squirrels rushed across the street and were introduced to some true American muscle.

From this point forward, M and I were drawn down two completely different paths in time. Mother Squirrel, being the sly creature she is, slipped through the time rift we had opened up. She had a different plan for M than the warped future I would eventually return to.

Mother Squirrel: The dominant, “Last Divine” Squirrel, who maintains control over decisions in The Squirrelian Empire, is said to be over forty years old, which is, for a squirrel, incredibly old, spanning several generations. She is the one squirrel who, to this day, should I ever see her again, the same anxiety that I felt when I saw her in those brief moments of time travel, would fill my heart now. Having floored the Vett, we were moving at quite a pace, but when that beast stopped us in mid warp, a glint of sunlight casting off her yellow, jaundiced eyes, I knew true evil actually existed.

M was pulled from the convertible by some sort of enormous, grotesque, furry paw. The shock of him flying through the door cracked the reinforced window, and managed to flip the car in mid-transition to the present, leaving me strapped in the car, safe from harm, while M, my partner, my Friend, my Brother… was ripped into the endless, Ethereal Vortex.

The present I arrived back in was, by God’s grace, the very same present in which I now write this: my last living document. It is one that no human, no man, no child should ever be brought into; a planet ruled over by squirrels and enforced by the SSASOVH. But in this newly created world, there was an element of human life, an aspect of human existence that could not be stained by the dirtiness of The Squirrel; human virtue.

Although unaware at the time, I now know that M was dragged from that car by an enormous squirrel paw, undoubtedly directed by Mother Squirrel herself, and was set upon yet another time which was not his own. Woozy from the heavy amount of G-Force inflicted upon him in the crash through the vehicle and into the Ethereal Vortex, he wandered around his initial surroundings before being captured by black fur Squirrelian storm troopers in a dream-like state, confused as to where he was, and what had become of him.

Squirrels have a type of classification system that puts humans into two categories: those that they believe to be “harmless” and “those that are believe to threaten the existence of The Squirrel.” This classification system is made through two specific sounds. An evil chuckle to denote a “real human” or someone harmless and the other, when converted into human letters, the sounds something like “Shoooo-Tut-Tut,” and when made by those hair-tufted ugly cheeks of a squirrel it sounds faintly like machine gun fire. You don’t want to be described as one, or have a squirrel point towards you and make that sound. But without an ID tag or a Squirrilean Master leading him by leash, it wasn’t long until M stumbled into a squirrel zone causing SS agents to swarm him within seconds of tripping the system that has been placed around all squirrel dominated land. M was interrogated and placed on display in Squirrel City as an agent who attempted to end the glorious Squirrel rule. In traditional squirrel fashion he was asked to give up his sources, his contacts and his plot in exchange for leniency in punishment.

Before Father Squirrel arose to fame and glory, there were those wise enough to see that this squirrel would bring massive suffering to mankind and sought to end it before it ever began. Mother Squirrel detained thirteen human soldiers, hoping to gather them together by pulling them through different vortexes before any damage was done. The humans were smart; recruit the greatest warriors from all time frames to preserve the future. They sought the great king Leondias, Genghis Khan, and William Wallace to muster together troops and defeat this common enemy. While their plan was good, Mother Squirrel was two paws ahead of the human plotters though. She was able to intercept the human informants in 470 B.C, 1200 A.D, 1290 A.D, as well as numerous times during WWII, the Roman Empire, and during the American Revolution. In total thirteen informants were rounded up and all thirteen faced execution.

All men lined up on their knees side-by-side, bruised, bloodied, beaten down, and were set to be executed. M was brought out before them a mere morsel of the man he once was just days prior. To the roar of the crowd, M was given a Smith & Wesson Model 29 and was told to take the lives of his fellow humans in exchange for his own.

The crowd silenced. A slow rain began to penetrate the solemn scene. Mother Squirrel approached M, the glare in her eyes informing him that this was his only opportunity for self- preservation. It was at that moment, with the smile of a joker, that he whispered “Veni Vidi Vici,” and fired all six rounds of the pistol into the air, causing all the squirrels to scatter in a mad frenzy and then proceeded to kneel in front of the squirrel executioners and accept his fate. There were no executions that day. The death of the thirteen, as well as that of M, would come on a much more symbolic date.

I am told that it was Jimi Hendrix’s groupies that took the dead squirrel and placed him on the main stage at Woodstock as a reminder of what “the man does to the free world.” What we now believe is that the fumes from our beautiful 1969 Corvette mixed with residue in the air created by the time machine, giving the dead squirrel properties of rebirth. Three days after the abrupt end of his life, Father Squirrel stood on stage during Jimi’s playing of Voodoo Chile (Slight Return) and spoke to the listeners at Woodstock of peace, love and prosperity, “man”. Funny how he came back and automatically spoke English and more specifically, “psychedelic lingo,” but then again, who in the right and/or drug-altered mind would question a talking squirrel preaching peace and love? I am told it was quite a sight to see. I have now been informed that M himself was there because the SS operatives responsible for his punishment decided it would be M’s fate to bear witness to the future that he himself helped create.

The expanded version of simply the squirrel SS is SSASOVH, which stands for The Secret Society for the Advancement of Squirrels Over the Vile Humans. They are the SS of Nazi Germany, the KGB of Soviet Russia, the CIA of the global superpower The United States, and I suppose, you could say they are the VVV (Virtuous Vengeance Vicariously) of The Human Resistance; in a word… notorious.

Together with the power of Rock and Roll, Father Squirrel went on tour around the globe preaching his new divine order; an order of The Squirrels awakened from their long dormant slumber. M told me that the sad part of all of this was that within the first year of Father Squirrel’s dominance, all the people throughout the world were completely and utterly brainwashed by his propaganda and his lies. Father Squirrel ended the Cold War with just one speech, destroyed all nuclear bombs with just one paw print, and started all third world countries’ economies with just one promise of a better, Squirrelian future. There no longer were distinctions between African, Italian, Russian, Japanese; all humans were considered “Man” and identified as such. There were no distinct cultures, no distinct languages. All humans were forced to worship Father Squirrel and his words of wisdom. All people were forced to learn English, because it was the language most squirrels were forced to listen to from the blabbering humans trying to feed them nuts in what the squirrels call their “dormant stages” as a waiting, observing, lurking animal unbeknownst to humans as a threat. Although it might have seemed as though all was well, Father Squirrel was incredibly prejudiced towards the “vile human race,” as he put it. Even though he never publicly declared our enslavement to the billion-strong squirrel population, many like my partner decided it was time to end this madness before it went too far. Little did they know, though, the world was a squirrel’s playground now. But like the blacklisted human books tend to show, history repeats itself.

The date was July 4, 1975, but the resistance would simply refer to it as D-Day Part Two. Three hundred well-armed, well-equipped human and dog resistance soldiers stormed the grand tree in the heart of Bethel and began the glorious battle against the squirrels. During the battle, Father Squirrel, along with his completely brainwashed Rock and Roll groupies, including but not limited to: Jimi Hendrix, Eric Clapton, Pete Townshend, John Lennon, Jim Morrison, and Eddie Van Halen, began to flee through the underground squirrel express to Squirrel City, located in what had been known during the United States rule as Iowa. At the Penn express junction Father Squirrel and the leaders of the Rock and Roll groupies, (simply known as Father’s boys) were met with the best of humans’ resistance soldiers, in the form of aged, already procreated, willing and ready to die soldiers. Survival was out of the question for these men.

With the quick and painless execution of Father Squirrel and ninety-five percent of Father’s boys, a weird feeling draped over the men. They were left to declare a victory which they themselves thought impossible and proclaim dominance once again over the world as they know it. But it would not be so. After the dust settled, all three hundred soldiers sent on the assault were killed in the line of fire, including my courageous brother M, who gallantly led the charge and refused to trade the lives of humans for a nice plot of land that he could be the king of. It is said that after the Penn Station massacre the remainder of the VVV soldiers went on a direct path to Squirrel City where they were met with the squirrel SS. What can be said of the battle that ensured is left up to the imaginations of those who believe. What is for sure is that because of the gallantry of the men who died on that day, the VVV still lives and still continues the good fight, my identity still remains a mystery, and we are still able to drive fear into the black-hearted squirrels.

And people say chivalry is dead? Well, it is now, but back then, it was still alive. The story, while completely polluted by squirrel propaganda, cannot be confirmed by fact, and is impossible to prove, other than by traveling back to the date and meeting the men before they entered the assault, but nowadays, such a thing is impossible with the impoverished conditions all humans live in. If The Squirrel is good at anything, it is covering up information, much like the governments of the early twenty-first century, who completely and openly lied to their people telling them that they were not directly under the command of the squirrels. The damned fools committed the highest form of heresy and nobody would fight it.

Just a few short days after the failed declared liberation of the world, The Squirrels let loose their mammoth protectors and while I should not have to give a description, I will for those novices we have here in the resistance. The mammoths are giant squirrels some fifteen to twenty feet tall boasting more qualities to Arnold Schwarzenegger than to squirrels themselves. They marched along with the ranks and ranks of battle-tested Squirrelian warriors, sent to eliminate or capture all humans suspected of having ties to the secret plot. Records, as sketchy as they are, tend to show the loss of approximately sixty-nine to two-hundred and eleven million human lives worldwide in just one month after operation “Backyard Cleaning” began. It is generally referred to as “Operation BC” by the Squirrelian textbooks, while most human resistance fighters consider it the Iron Curtain of the twenty-first century. With the conclusion of operation BC, the human resistance was decimated, the spirit of man was crushed, and the rule of the squirrels was unchallenged. In the fifty two months following operation BC over forty five percent of the human population was gone.

But all hope is not lost.

To this day there are but three areas that remain safe-havens to humans: what was once known as Italy, England, and Lebanon. They are marked by The Squirrel as illegal land for any human tread, while Squirrelian patrols rarely check into the movement through the areas. To those people who seek shelter and escape from the tyrannical rule of the squirrels, I suggest you move quickly. As you read this, thousands of squirrel spies are probably doing the same, but you have an advantage: You can flee now and will have about a month before the squirrel legions begin their assault on our human safe land. Much like the red tape in the former super power United States government, the Council of the Paw don’t like to let their loyal squirrels see land that is regarded as dangerous, and by exploiting this red tape, you can escape. The fact that there is so much disbelief that the humans could ever rise again, will give you enough time to get to our safe haven which can never be spoken of, only lived in. Remember: Italy, England, or Lebanon. Then ask for freedom and you shall find it.

To all humans wishing to try what the 300 did so many years ago my advice is this: the Council of the Paw is as mysterious as the government that The Squirrels run. Even if you were able to somehow locate and terminate one of the members of the Council of Paw, the others would soon find a replacement and their rule would simply continue on. Come to us, find the safe zones, and then venture to our safe haven. I am leading a new world, a world safe of squirrel rule. My fellow humans, there can be no peace, no free will in this world while The Squirrels dominate it with an unjust rule blanketed over all the land. My friends, if you can get yourself to a radio turn to the frequency 08-06-1945 and look for Europe’s “Final Countdown.” Believe the time is coming.

I am Il Duce. Today marks a new age. Today begins the Age of Man.

-July 4, 2011.