Billy DeCarlo, Project: Pioneer Podcast

We had our first visitors here in our pioneer enclave, after being at this lifestyle for a year. We see our families often, but until now, none have ventured into our world. It can be a little hurtful at times, but completely understandable. This life can be intimidating, and it’s not for everyone. It takes one out of their comfort zone, especially those who are only familiar with the sticks and bricks trodden path of normalcy. Let’s talk about that programming.

Project: Pioneer is the live weekly reality journal of a couple and their small dog as they leave their ‘normal’ life in a luxury apartment for a new semi-off grid life in a small recreational vehicle. We cover prepping, politics, spirituality, afterlife, RV life, and personal finance. Half of all subscription/donation money goes to The National Alliance to End Homelessness, the other half pays for expenses. You can listen to the audio podcast version of this journal at Substack, Apple, Spotify, PocketCasts and others.

As our visitors arrived, the clouds moved away to yield the sun. It was a beautiful day of togetherness, walks through the woods, paddleboats, laughter, and the non-device nature wonderment of small children. Giavana and I sat outside with our guests—my daughter and son-in-law and their girls, dining at the picnic table, talking about life. Their big shepherd enjoyed the outdoor ambiance, and our little Pia may have gotten a little jealous at first. The summer was full of wonderful memories, and that one closed it out in perfection. I’ll be forever thankful for that day.

It was an ending of sorts. Summer’s end. The woods were full of campers and it was loud. Lots of people, just blowing off steam, happy to be away from it all for a brief time. It seemed to go on forever, starting on Thursday morning, until on Monday when the last stragglers pulled away, sadly, heading back to the pulling vortex of reality, and left us alone once again. I puttered about outside, cleaning up. White dead ashen embers in the firepit and the children’s long, thin marshmallow sticks propped up on lawn chairs all a sad reminder of our special day. I had told them how delicious those blackened marshmallows they had prepared for me were. The hammock those kids enjoyed so much now sat still, alone, unattended, perhaps catching its breath after a substantial workout, so much attention as those gleeful kids shrieked and pushed it to its limits.

I also said goodbye to a few fellow pioneers, heading out for warmer climes now that summer is drawing its curtain. One fellow was traveling with just his basset hound, lost after losing his wife, no longer permitting himself a home, riding out his time in that old class A. My old best friend (the basis for the hero Shayne in Farawayer) and his wife now finally, finally retired and just left for their countrywide RV journey. Dubuque, Iowa at last report. I’m happy for them, envious, and look forward to their reports.

The distractions of summer concerts and festivals now behind us, Giavana and I will focus more on the future—near and far. The election is a big factor, I’ve covered all that and what our options will be if it goes one way or the other. Our next big task is to begin organizing and inventorying our meager possessions, our minimalist, prepper things, in order to prepare for our move to a new winter site. We’ll empty and clean this White House home from stem to stern, fore and aft, inside and out to prepare her for winter. The move will happen in October, next month, as far as setting up in the new place. We’ll leave for a getaway in November, to be out of the country for the election, safe and cozy by a lake, a much needed break.

Henry David Thoreau wrote in Walden (a treasure, and one of my favorite books) about being simple and minimalist as a way of resisting unjust economic and political systems. What he was saying is that by buying into the pressures to have more and more, you enslave yourself and put yourself under the control of others—employers, creditors, those you’re trying to keep up with, your own human built-in greed and lust for “things.” It’s that pulling vortex I mentioned earlier, the sucking whirlpool. He said it leads to people becoming “sleepers” who are eventually absent from their existence, forced into a life where they must get up each day and go through the same Matrix, Groundhog Day routine, and they become numb to it, joyless, stressed, numb to all the beauty and goodness in this world. And that was back in 1854! It’s so much more true now, on steroids. May he rest in peace.

Maybe all those words I read as a boy and later as a lost, disaffected young man after my military service are rising up through my subconscious, in rebellion, and have driven us to this pioneer path we’ve undertaken. My Side of the Mountain, On the Road, Walden, and other wonderful books I read during those times. Maybe it’s because we seem to be at the pinnacle of what those books, and other, more dystopian ones (like 1984 and Handmaid’s Tale) all foretold so long ago. Maybe Farawayer was the bubbling up of all that from within me. Maybe this alternative life is our escape—actually, it is, I’ll admit, and it’s wonderful.

Regardless, that path to dystopia in the books I read is indisputably happening not just here, but around the world. The USA is the grand prize, the big domino that would cause all others to topple. Evil knows it, big autocracy knows it, big money knows it. This has been a slow freight train, coming for a very long time. We can derail it, I hope. We need the young to rise up, finish what the hippies and beats started, and do it right this time. Take back their future, fight for it. Us oldsters need to try to gain penance for contributing to it, not fighting hard enough, and stand by their sides.

Let’s be clear—there isn’t any Doctor Evil/Gru evil genius superhero plotting all this behind a green curtain. It’s the organic outgrowth of out of control, unbridled greed, mostly now in corporate form, since they’ve been recognized as “people too” by the Supreme Court. “People” with zero empathy, knowing only greed, lust for more, more, more, and now driven by artificial intelligence. Giavana and I watched a western movie last night, and framed it in what life may be like to come, from a prepper perspective. Not many will survive that, we’re too soft, too reliant on tech.

Back to our visitors. When I’m with my adult kids, especially when I see what fantastic, amazing, loving parents they are, my mind always wanders to going back. I’d like to be their father now, with all I’ve learned since. How good I’d be! We have our children too young, again part of that societal programming: school, career, marriage, kids. We move from one form of being controlled to another, throughout our lives. Feed that tax machine for the wealthy, feed those collection plates, feed that military-industrial war machine with our working kids’ bodies and minds. Are you still figuring out why the wealthy are so against any form of birth control or women making their own decisions? It’s not their kids going off to get maimed and killed in those oil wars.

It’s a trap, always was. CEO pay used to be a reasonable three times average worker pay. Now it’s 344 times more! Wall Street profits have gone up 3,800% since 1980 (the beginning of the Reagan age of extreme greed) while worker pay has gone up only 16%. There used to be no billionaires, now they’re consolidating into their own hateful little unhappy space army. Three families here in the US have more money than half the 330 million population combined. The money you make and taxes you pay, your slave wage contributions, almost all go to corporate subsidies for big pharma, big military, and here you are worried that immigrants might get the meager Social Security they’re paying into, and some poor single mom might get food stamps until she can afford child care to get a job. Only one party is now back to fighting for the working people, fighting against all that, and it’s not the party led by a billionaire that’s trying to cancel overtime pay and socialist “entitlements” like unemployment payments, Social Security, Medicare, and veteran’s and other disability.

I digress. I long to go back and do it again, especially for those kids. I wish to be reincarnated, if that’s what it takes. Maybe.

I’ve posited in my musings here about spirituality and the afterlife. I’ve thought deeply on these topics since childhood, out of fear and wonder. After all I’ve seen and experienced in these many decades, and studying the experiences of those who have briefly passed and come back, I think I know the deal. The only thing that makes sense to me is that there is some form of afterlife, and it is utopian. This life is in preparation for that, because for utopia to remain perfect, only the perfected can pass into it. If you haven’t evolved sufficiently, you retain some of what you’ve learned in that secret subconscious and DNA programming, and you’re reborn to work at it. God doesn’t interfere, that would ruin the recipe, we’re at the mercy of our own decisions, fate and how we handle the circumstances that are thrown at us in random fashion.

The cookbook to perfection has been given to us in many forms (all corrupted by humans of course, to some extent)—the Commandments, the Beatitudes, Torah, Koran, on and on. It’s all the same song. Be good, be kind, be compassionate, be moral. If I’m wrong, what’s the down side—trying to be a more perfect person? I’ll take the ‘L’ there, if so. If I’m right, the reward is eternal. Read or listen to the book, After (and others like it) and tell me you’re not convinced. We don’t need to participate in unpleasant rituals we don’t understand, or support uber-wealthy cult-like organizations. We can be a religion unto ourselves, so much easier. Christlike.

Imagine the world we’d live in if more people adopted this theory, as well as similar ideas such as in Buddhist teachings. Semi-utopia, right here. No more greed, wars, mistreatment and violence of human on human.

We don’t know for sure if there is reincarnation. There’s plenty of evidence on that as well. We don’t know if there’s a God. We only choose to believe what we choose to believe. But I do know one form of reincarnation is real. We wake up every day reborn, after whatever happens in our sleep, the deep secrets in our subconscious taking over, perhaps adjusting us, guiding us, teaching us. Every day we arise, reborn, with the chance to begin anew, to be better, to fight off the stressors that certainly will come until we lay our heads down again. If we can just make it through that short period of a few hours, beatific, beautiful, a perfect person, being kind, generous, moral for just that few hours, perhaps there’s the chance that we’ll do it again the next day, and again, until it is habit. Until it becomes clear that this is the way to happiness.

“An honest man hardly need to count more than his ten fingers, or in extreme cases he may add his ten toes, and lump the rest. Simplicity, simplicity, simplicity! I say, let your affairs be as two or three, and not a hundred or a thousand; instead of a million count half a dozen, and keep your accounts on your thumb nail.” ― Henry David Thoreau

This pioneer journey continues…

Hey, it took me a few hours to write this journal post for you. Can you spend a few seconds and post it on your socials or forward to others? If so, thank you!

Free subscribers get a free copy of my book of short stories, Rambles and Daydreams. Paid subscribers will get all three books in the noir crime trilogy, Vigilante Angels. I no longer do paid-only posts, because it felt gross to leave people behind, especially those who can’t afford it.

If you read my ramblings, I’ll leave it to your conscience. If you get any value from my writing, consider a donation or subscription, which is priced at a few dollars, the minimum allowed. Half of all money goes to The National Alliance to End Homelessness, the other half pays for expenses.

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Hey, we made it to fifty posts! Thank you so much for your support. It means a lot to us, honestly, especially when times are tough. It was great that last week’s post was on empathy, and what followed was the DNC convention, which focused on empathy, community, families, compassion, love, joy, and America. We might just be OK, but it’s not going to be all flowers and unicorns. It’s likely going to be rough sledding ahead. Given all that’s happened in the past few weeks, here’s how I see the potential violence to come playing out. And, it folds together all the themes of this journal—prepping, RV life, politics, spirituality, personal finance. Let’s go!

Project: Pioneer is the live weekly reality journal of a couple and their small dog as they leave their ‘normal’ life in a luxury apartment for a new semi-off grid life in a small recreational vehicle. We cover prepping, politics, spirituality, afterlife, RV life, and personal finance. Half of all subscription/donation money goes to The National Alliance to End Homelessness, the other half pays for expenses. You can listen to the audio podcast version of this journal at Substack, Apple, Spotify, PocketCasts and others.

There are odd sensations when a big wave is about to form. There’s that sense of something pulling back, pulling away. There’s a gathering, strength building, a massing of energy. Then it begins to form, to take shape. First, a rolling bulge coming forward, innocent enough. Then it rises, fast! Rises, and begins its ominous curl. It’s a big one! The entire transfer of energy is so impressive. I could watch all day, from the beach, and ride those waves, ride that energy, until the last of mine is gone.

That’s how Giavana, Pia and I felt while watching all four nights of the DNC convention, culminating by that powerful speech by Kamala Harris. It was joyful. I’ve been following politics almost all my life. I was a small five-year old boy crying in front of the black and white TV when JFK was assassinated, seeing another small boy there, who no longer had a dad. This week felt more powerful than the rise of Obama, and that was spectacular.

The energy of this movement, the money rushing in from small donations, the massive army of people signing up to volunteer, are something to behold. Thankfully, they’re warning not to be overconfident. We’re seeing signs that states like North Carolina may come back to blue. This needs to be a blowout result in order to tamp down Trump’s inevitable whining about it being rigged. In a massive blowout, that’s not as effective. Hopefully, by then the cult is sick of it and starting to see reality. Those Q predictions never did come true, ever, did they? We were at one of Trump’s trial appearances this summer, and despite his begging his cult members to show up, there were only about five sad, quiet people outside.

I’ve been talking to some of these folks as a sort of side project, and they’re very dug in with all the conspiracy theories. They’re a fringe, but ready to do violence that will make Jan 6 look like a church meeting. For every violent lunatic that was there that day, there are a hundred who are very mad that they missed it, and dreaming of a second chance. Many are unwell, and very well armed, all around the country. The conspiracy sources, Fox, OANN, Newsmax, social media bots from Russia, have them well-indoctrinated.

They’ve been installed as part of the plan this time around—in community election boards, school boards, local, county and state level government positions. What they’ll do after election day is refuse to carry out what is normally a very routine, mundane task—barring evidence of any problems, just certify the election results in their neck of the woods as accurate. That tallies up from the local to county to state level, and the results are then ceremoniously counted in DC at a meeting of the state electors.

But, they’ll refuse to certify the results. Even without a reason, they’ll refuse. They’ll even refuse in areas that Trump won, just to slow down the process and achieve their goal. To prepare, some states are striking down laws that require them to certify election results in a timely manner. They are actively practicing in current elections to be sure to get this right. Trump is realizing he’s about to lose big in the election, and openly saying that this is the new plan. He had some of those new, corrupt electors from Georgia at one of his recent rallies, and hailed them as heroes, sitting in the front row.

There will of course be lawsuits to try to get them to do what they’re supposed to do, but each time they lose, it will go all the way to the Supreme Court, and we know what happens then. The goal is to prevent either candidate from receiving the necessary 270 electoral votes to win. If that happens, the backup process occurs. The House of Representatives picks the President, with each state getting one vote. That results in a very, very small portion of the population of this country picking our President, and it will be Trump, make no mistake.

I can imagine violent protests if that occurs. I can imagine being part of them, so it’s no fantasy. At that point, our democracy is gone, period, and we’re officially an authoritarian state. If their plan falls short for any reason, the plans for massive violence around the country are already in place—taking over of state capitols, police stations, National Guard bases (with all that military equipment and ammo), power grids, and more.

This is not sensationalism, these plans are already out in the open. The traitor General Flynn has been setting these cells up for years now, traveling around the country. They are well organized and well funded. Prepare. This may be their last and only chance to turn the USA into a Christian theocratic autocracy, despite planning back to the Reagan Moral Majority years and massive amounts of money spent. They are not simply going to let that all go to waste. It’s go big time for these lunatics. They are well-funded and know this.

Which brings me to us, your friendly pioneers. We began our journey over a year ago, when we decided to take advantage of ridiculous real estate prices and sell our house for a very nice profit. That was one reason, the other is we saw all this coming, along with the other things going on like just getting over a shocking, dystopian pandemic, and more and more climate-related disasters. It only made sense to begin prepping, downsize/minimalize, and set ourselves up to be completely mobile, to go anywhere we need to go to survive. We bought and moved into our RV in this small, remote paradise.

It’s all there in our back posts to a year ago, each step of the journey, all the mistakes, trials, tribulations, lessons learned. The prepping journals are invaluable. As we get closer, and more clear-eyed, this is what things look like and how we’re thinking.

First, we’re working hard to do our part. Phone banking, organizing, talking to people to try to get them to understand what they’re doing. We were out there with a few folks prior to Biden stepping away, but now it’s an ocean of them, ready to work. No, we we’re not going back to the 1940s.

We found a place outside of the country, and we’re going to go check it out for a week or so during the election. We can relax, get a foreign perspective, and familiarize ourselves with an escape route and lodging options in that area. Maybe make a few friends that will come in handy later. It will be a nice vacation.

By then, the path forward will be even clearer. We’ll see who the “winner” is and what actions are being taken by the losers. What the temperature is, so to speak. Maybe we’ll just stay there for a while if things are too hot here.

If we come back, we’ll be paying careful attention. We’ve looked at neighboring states from a geological, topographic, political, and other perspectives in case we decide to hitch up the pioneer wagon and go that way. If we decide to ride it out in another country, hopefully our scouting trips will yield benefits. We have friends around the world who have offered shelter, as well.

When the smoke clears, if all is well and this movement has dissipated, hopefully back under the rocks, we’ll get back to thinking about buying a patch of land and building that prepped-out off-grid climate-resistant cabin we’ve been dreaming about. I’m back to learning all about solar and water collection/purification systems. Hopefully, that’s what the future holds.

After the dopamine high of the DNC convention, Giavana and I allowed ourselves a bit of a break. We spent the weekend just relaxing here in pioneer heaven. There was an open-air free concert on a beautiful Friday night. Saturday night was spent just relaxing here at the homestead with a nice outdoor fire, some music and reading, and all our exterior RV party lights lit up. Heaven.

On Sunday we slept in a bit, went to a nice breakfast, did laundry, and spent more time outside during which a very large black bear approached our camp in daylight. Little Pia picked up the scent first, and alerted vociferously. She was ready to take on the big bruin! Thankfully, our wood picket fence stopped her. The bear was right there at the woods edge behind our RV, foraging for food in the forest. It was beautiful, and a perfect end to our weekend. Perhaps an omen of good things to come.

“We must accept finite disappointment, but never lose infinite hope.” — Martin Luther King, Jr.

“You may not always have a comfortable life and you will not always be able to solve all of the world’s problems at once but don’t ever underestimate the importance you can have, because history has shown us that courage can be contagious, and hope can take on a life of its own.” — Michelle Obama

“You may say I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one. I hope someday you'll join us. And the world will live as one.” ― John Lennon

This pioneer journey continues…

Hey, it took me a few hours to write this journal post for you. Can you spend a few seconds and post it on your socials or forward to others? If so, thank you!

Free subscribers get a free copy of my book of short stories, Rambles and Daydreams. Paid subscribers will get all three books in the noir crime trilogy, Vigilante Angels. I no longer do paid-only posts, because it felt gross to leave people behind, especially those who can’t afford it.

If you read my ramblings, I’ll leave it to your conscience. If you get any value from my writing, consider a donation or subscription, which is priced at a few dollars, the minimum allowed. Half of all money goes to The National Alliance to End Homelessness, the other half pays for expenses.

You can also support me by becoming a paid subscriber below, leaving a small one-time tip at the button below, or by buying my novels at wildlakellc.com, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, or other fine book outlets in paperback, eBook, or audio.

When you buy something using the retail links in our stories we may get a teeny tiny commission, but it never affects your price or our judgement in linking to products we use and believe in. It helps pay for the costs in providing this (hopefully) entertaining content.

This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit billydecarlo.substack.com/subscribe

Once upon a time, when my son was still a kid, we participated in a racquetball tournament. He was up against an old guy who had braces on every joint. My son was always one of those angels with altruism wired into the DNA from birth. Anyway, the old guy missed a serve, and his ball dribbled away to the far end of the court. Seeing the guy’s condition, my son ran to grab the ball for him to serve again. The dude berated him.

Project: Pioneer is the live weekly reality journal of a couple and their small dog as they leave their ‘normal’ life in a luxury apartment for a new semi-off grid life in a small recreational vehicle. We cover prepping, politics, spirituality, afterlife, RV life, and personal finance. You can listen to the audio podcast version of this journal at Substack, Apple, Spotify, PocketCasts and others.

“Don’t you ever help your opponent. Your opponent is your enemy. That energy you just spent weakens you and hurts your ability to win. You allowed me, your opponent, to rest and conserve energy. I will use that against you.”

I’ll never forget that moment. I should have said something, but I didn’t want to end up rolling around on the floor with the old guy. He seemed to have some anger management issues and I certainly did at the time. My son and I talked about it on the way home. The guy had a point, if your thesis in life is to win at all costs, even stepping on the neck of your opponent. This is called zero-sum—you can only get ahead by causing others to fall behind, at the expense of others.

This strategy has resulted in massive fame and success for some of our most well-known athletes, politicians, musicians, actors, and others. Did you ever wonder why so many of them seem so very unhappy? Why they end up victim to alcohol and substance abuse and die young? Or, if they’re more fortunate, end up such miserable old people, despite all their success and money?

It’s because, inside, you can’t hide from who you are. You know. You can suppress and justify at the conscious level, but underneath, in your subconscious, it eats and eats away at your self-esteem, your self-worth. The guilt is there, somewhere in those deep, still waters of the mind.

As well, others notice. You may self-perceive as this badass super-competitive mofo, but completely unaware that others see you as a major a-hole. (Narrator: I know, this was once me). This can certainly work against you, and result in the opposite—others working hard to make sure you don’t succeed. Look at someone like Keanu Reeves, who seems to be the most well-known, super-successful Christlike, Buddah-like person. He’s done well, without being horrible. Mark Cuban and Taylor Swift as well, I’d venture to say.

My son later went to war, two tours as a Marine machine gunner in the most dangerous areas of Afghanistan. Certainly that’s a different situation. It’s kill or be killed. You’re responsible for your platoon-mates. But in everyday life, you’ll likely get ahead faster by being more empathetic.

When you’ve been around for as long as I have, you’ve learned quite a bit (often, the hard way). You see all kinds of trends, ebbs, flows, circumstances, actions and outcomes—not just in what’s happened with you, but those all around you. The life thing starts to take shape and make sense.

Often, when things take a downturn, a run of unfortunate circumstances, we’re understandably negative. You’re in that FML mode, and everything seems to suck. You pay more attention to the sucky things going on, and dismiss any good that’s leaking through, and it all feels like crap. “I can’t help anyone else right now, I’m struggling.” You’re in a foul mood, and much less tolerant of others. “Look at that moron with the baggy pants and his underwear showing.” You’re giving in, allowing the darkness to own you. I’ve been there. A lot.

What I’ve learned though, is that if I take a beat and rationalize my way out of it, things turn 180 degrees in a heartbeat. It’s important to put things in context. My kids are healthy. My grandkids are healthy. I’m still breathing. I have love. What more can you ask for? I measure my self-pity against what others are living through around the world and begin to count my blessings. It's motivating and puts my focus on helping those who are worse off, rather than woe-is-me.

Sometimes other people help me out of my funk. A simple smile by someone who sees my dour expression, someone letting me merge onto the highway instead of speeding up to prevent it, or a random gift from the person ahead of me in the drive-through coffee line can spark the reversal. These are the angels of this world, and if you do this, you are one of them. Thank you. You make a difference, and you will be rewarded.

When things are going well, of course we’re happier. We’re more likely to be the one giving that helpful smile or compliment, to buy that coffee for the person behind us. The world feels like our oyster, and we’re full of joy and hope. We want others to feel the same, at least the good among us, the non-zero sum gamers. (The zero-sum crowd would say, “It’s your damn fault you’re not doing as well as me, get your stuff together, loser.”)

There are zealous, hateful zero-sum gamers in the religious world, particularly in the recent upswing in Christian Nationalism. They feel no other belief should exist, and the country (then, the world) should be forced into a strict, fundamentalist Old Testament existence. “Empathy is a sin, a trick of the devil,” they’re saying. Sounds like Satan to me! They’re taking over a town in Idaho, and building cells around the country. They have taken over our ultimate authority, the US Supreme Court, and the leader of the House of Representatives is one of their leaders. They’ve written Project 2025, the blueprint to establish this dystopian doctrine beginning on day one of a Republican presidency, just a few months for now. “There’s more that’s not even in the document,” their lead architect said on hidden camera recently. (Narrator: That would be the part about taking the guns away, and more). They’re preparing for a religious civil war here in America, if necessary. More on that in my next post. Ironically, all of this is the complete opposite of what Christ taught in his short time with us. It’s the opposite of Buddhism.

So, what I know after sitting on this spinning rock for so long, is that empathy is the way, if you want to be happy and maybe even live longer. If you want to be remembered well, and want to leave a legacy, perhaps passing this happiness secret on to your kids so they’ll have long, happy lives.

Empathy is all the heroines and heroes we ever read about, cheered for, cried over when reading impactful stories or watching great movies. Zero-sum were the horrible villains in those stories. Which side did you root for?

Empathy is George Bailey, zero-sum is mean old rich guy Mr. Potter (It’s A Wonderful Life). And yet, somehow we see a third of the country rooting for the mean old rich dude who promises to take away their disability payments, their Social Security, Medicare, right to make decisions about their own bodies. You see veterans and “patriots” supporting him, despite his constant disrespect and trashing of those who have served, especially those who gave all. That’s how cults operate. Don’t hate them. Forgive them, for they know not what they do. Help them see the light and work their way out of the dark.

Empathy is easier when you can relate to those who struggle, when you’ve been down and out yourself. Had that horrible fast-food job with the horrible boss. Had that trouble making the rent payment. Had that trouble finding someone to watch your kid so you can go to work and make that rent payment. It’s why some of those folks who have had to scratch and claw on the way up are the least hateful, the most giving. They know what it’s like. Country music fans were horrified long ago to find Johnny Cash was married to a black woman. I’m sure many were horrified at the recent Country Music Awards to see Luke Combs doing that tribute and incredible duo with Tracy Chapman. Luke knows what that song is about.

Empathy is harder when you’ve had everything handed to you, never been grocery shopping in your life. It’s easier to say, “It’s your fault you’re not successful like me.” Sometimes empathy is wired into the DNA, perhaps the enhancement of learning in past lifetimes, improving with each iteration, until we’re ready for the afterlife utopia.

Whether you’re spiritual, religious, or not, this is the key. I call it Christlike because I think Jesus was our best historical model—it’s all very well documented. Same with Buddhism. Look, you don’t have to join a pseudo-cult, follow a bunch of likely man-made rituals and ceremonies. You don’t have to wear your beliefs on your sleeve, or push it on others. We don’t know for certain if Christ was the son of God. That’s why it’s called faith, and Christians are called believers. Certainly he existed, and was an incredibly good person. There’s just too much historical evidence to deny that. Buddha existed, and has inspired so many to live good, altruistic lives. They are the exemplars, Keanu Reeves, Mark Cuban, and Taylor Swift are closer living examples, if you please.

Yes, those zero-sum folks will prey on your empathy, as that mean old racquetball player warned my son so long ago. Count on it. Buddhism says it will happen, know that it will, and deal with it. The consequences are between them, their God (if they have one), karma, their own self-esteem. Just know that the positives of empathy will outweigh those sometimes negative consequences of it.

I’m working hard on it myself. I’ve insulted those I’ve disagreed with on this journal, as recent as my last post. I always regret it immediately, but I won’t go back and erase it. It happened. It’s there to remind me to be better, to understand that people are often a result of the bad that’s happened in their lives, of what their parents or others have burned into them, and they need help. We’re all God’s children, we all have work to do. So I’m trying to fix that in myself, working on my language, stepping up my empathy and giving to those with less. Giavana? Heck, she’s already an angel. She inspires me.

This is the way to feeling good about yourself, to happiness, to making the world a better place for all of us. What if we all actually tried to follow that model, those giving principles, whether or not you believe in deities or an afterlife? Can you imagine the utopia we’d live in right here in this world?

“I do not ask the wounded person how he feels, I myself become the wounded person.”—Walt Whitman

“Yet, taught by time, my heart has learned to glow for other’s good, and melt at other’s woe.”—Homer

“The only time you look in your neighbor’s bowl is to make sure that they have enough. You don’t look in your neighbor’s bowl to see if you have as much as them.”—Louis C.K.

“I think we all have empathy. We may not have enough courage to display it.”—Maya Angelou

This pioneer journey continues…

Hey, it took me a few hours to write this journal post for you. Can you spend a few seconds and post it on your socials or forward to others? If so, thank you!

Free subscribers get a free copy of my book of short stories, Rambles and Daydreams. Paid subscribers will get all three books in the noir crime trilogy, Vigilante Angels. I no longer do paid-only posts, because it felt gross to leave people behind, especially those who can’t afford it.

If you read my ramblings, I’ll leave it to your conscience. If you get any value from my writing, consider a donation or subscription, which is priced at a few dollars, the minimum allowed. Half of all money goes to The National Alliance to End Homelessness, the other half pays for expenses.

You can also support me by becoming a paid subscriber below, leaving a small one-time tip at the button below, or by buying my novels at wildlakellc.com, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, or other fine book outlets in paperback, eBook, or audio.

When you buy something using the retail links in our stories we may get a teeny tiny commission, but it never affects your price or our judgement in linking to products we use and believe in. It helps pay for the costs in providing this (hopefully) entertaining content.

This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit billydecarlo.substack.com/subscribe

You can see it if you perch toward the top of a hill overlooking a music festival. That mass of synchronous humanity moving in unison to the rhythm like a beautiful school of fish. If you get caught up in the joyful excitement and move down to the stage, then look back at the crowd, you see the exuberant smiles. Joyful—that’s the word of the day.

Project: Pioneer is the live weekly reality journal of a couple and their small dog as they leave their ‘normal’ life in a luxury apartment for a new semi-off grid life in a small recreational vehicle. We cover prepping, politics, spirituality, afterlife, RV life, and personal finance. You can listen to the audio podcast version of this journal at Substack, Apple, Spotify, PocketCasts and others.

If you’ve been with us on this journey for the past year, you’ve seen a clear pattern. I whine all winter about being cooped up in the cold, and pine for the summer festival season and the beach. I love festivals—music, chili, art, pizza, doesn’t matter what kind of festival. They’re our humanity in a small space. It’s easy to feel the ebb and flow of emotion through the crowd at a festival. It’s contagious.

Festival season is now officially over (for me), and Giavana will get her husband back full-time. I’ll have to remember to ask her if that’s a good thing. She goes, but just not as relentlessly as I do. I love people watching at these events—a microcosm of society. I’m the guy sitting alone, comfortable and unbothered with my cooler and reading material, watching, watching.

Charlie is in that crowd, putting aside his recent cancer diagnosis for a day, and in fact feeling much better to be out in the open air, dancing, and surrounded by such joy.

June is in that crowd, thankful her boss finally agreed to a weekend off. Her kids stayed home to take care of the pets, urging her to go and enjoy herself with her partner.

Katelyn is in that crowd, finally feeling better since she and John lost the baby. She pulls him closer and whispers, “I think I’m finally ready to try again.”

Jack is out there too, finally able to push the pain of his lost promotion aside, the music uplifting him with new confidence to move on to a new company that will appreciate his work ethic. He vows to forego the luxury he thought defined him, instead seeking minimalism and the ability to escape his unhappy hamster-wheel go-go life far earlier than he ever thought possible. John is now FIRE.

Jesse is out there, pumping her bangled arms high into the air with the beat, thinking, “Bad freshman start be damned, I’m gonna slay this sophomore year.”

Dontrell is out there, grieving the recent loss of his father. He smiles when the band launches into Dad’s favorite song.

There is a blue one who can't acceptThe green one for living withA fat one tryin' to be a skinny oneDifferent strokes for different folksAnd so on and so on and scooby-dooby-doobyWe got to live togetherI am every day people—Sly and the Family Stone

They all dance like no one is watching on this hot summer day.

The most joyous crowds I’ve seen all summer, by far, were the ones at the Grateful Dead/Phish type bands. The message in the lyrics, the uplifting flow of the chord changes in this music, can’t help but make you feel good. Every face smiling, from the young hippies to the old hippies to the well-groomed manicured corporate weekend refugees in their neat slack shorts and Birkenstocks. All smiling and gyrating to the words, forgetting it all for a while. It is beautiful and uplifting in itself to behold. So many happy, joyful people it felt like a Kamala rally.

“Love will see you through”

“I will get by, I will survive”

"Remember that the only time is now"

“Well, the first days are the hardest days, don’t you worry anymore”

"I don't know, don't really care, let there be songs to fill the air"

“One way or another this darkness got to give.”

“Nothing left to do but smile, smile, smile.”

—Grateful Dead lyrics

I was at a festival in mid-July. This one focused on music with a bit of a harder edge. It was ridiculously hot, and people were drinking hard from early in the day. The mood seemed to grow a bit darker as the afternoon slid into evening. My mother called to say that Trump had been shot at. I prayed they wouldn’t say anything from the stage, and saw a few people holding up their phones to one another. Thankfully, it didn’t seem to have much effect. I think more than half the crowd was already in a funk due to this being the height of stress with Biden being urged to not run, and the Republican basically pronouncing they were on the way to a landslide win. It sure felt like it.

Into the night, it seemed to get rowdier, the excessive alcohol and heat taking its toll on the mass human psyche. Someone sitting near me fell and had some kind of heart issue, leading to a swarm of paramedics, family crying, and lots of drunken confusion. It didn’t feel good there anymore, so I left early.

A week later, Biden made his courageous decision and a ton of stress and fear seemed immediately displaced by joyful exuberance. The party and country quickly coalesced around Kamala, and once again people seemed excited and happy. We began hearing about our greatness and our potential instead of hateful, negative bile about everything under the sun. I could feel the difference at these big events I attended since then.

I worry about the future for all these outdoor activities we love. Our big campground wasn’t that busy this season. The intense heat and constant deluges of rain have surely kept people away. Same thing at some of these festivals. When vendors have to pay to sell their goods, and people stop showing up, they’ll stop being able to rent those spaces. The festivals, fairs, carnivals, concerts, camping won’t be possible because they won’t be profitable. Entire days of big festivals this year were wiped out by unending heavy rain. Huge sold out headline concerts were canceled.

They can pivot to using indoor spaces, to ensure it goes off despite the weather. That won’t work well, because most people (like me) only go because it’s a chance to enjoy the fresh air of the outdoors, not filthy recycled unhealthy air conditioning. This is what’s happening slowly, before our eyes. We’re gradually moving to a dystopian existence where everything is indoors (like Florida in summer). We need to fight for our planet, for our climate, and turn those away that mindlessly pillage and make the problem worse out of their own greed.

It’s the same with expensive beach vacations. Ours this summer (booked way back in December) was mostly rained out. We were lucky—the week prior it was so hot it was dangerous to be outside, certainly not comfortable. You couldn’t walk on the sand barefoot. I don’t think I’ll book that far in advance again, it’s too much of gamble for that much money. I’m sure most people are thinking the same. It could lead to the collapse of those economies, our country’s economy. It’s getting too expensive to continually have to rebuild those beaches as they’re wiped out by severe storm after severe storm. Insurers won’t cover the homes, a disaster in the making.

Sunday night I returned home late and exhausted from that last festival concert, and was in a hurry to get inside to the sleep cave, where my beautiful Giavana and little Pia waited in peaceful slumber. I caught myself at the door to our pioneer RV. Wait. Take a beat. Listen. I took a moment in the hammock, looking up through the tall, tall trees to the stars above and listened to another concert. The cicada chorus sang using alternating chords in surround sound. An owl hooted an occasional fill. Summer was slipping away, but all felt right in the world. The new, joyful exuberance of the Kamala candidacy gives hope that maybe we’ll all survive.

Soon we’ll have to relocate to a winter camp, but until then we plan to take advantage of this pioneer paradise as much as possible, meaning long walks through our woods, peaceful nights by the firepit, cookouts and meals at our picnic table. Maybe some light music over our White House RV outdoor sound system, before the main show begins, featuring The Fabulous Cicadas and Madame Hoot.

"Music is the divine way to tell beautiful, poetic things to the heart"—Pablo Casals

This pioneer journey continues…

Hey, it took me a few hours to write this journal post for you. Can you spend a few seconds and post it on your socials or forward to others? If so, thank you!

Free subscribers get a free copy of my book of short stories, Rambles and Daydreams. Paid subscribers will get all three books in the noir crime trilogy, Vigilante Angels. I no longer do paid-only posts, because it felt gross to leave people behind, especially those who can’t afford it.

If you read my ramblings, I’ll leave it to your conscience. If you get any value from my writing, consider a donation or subscription, which is priced at a few dollars, the minimum allowed. Half of all money goes to The National Alliance to End Homelessness, the other half pays for expenses.

You can also support me by becoming a paid subscriber below, leaving a small one-time tip at the button below, or by buying my novels at wildlakellc.com, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, or other fine book outlets in paperback, eBook, or audio.

When you buy something using the retail links in our stories we may get a teeny tiny commission, but it never affects your price or our judgement in linking to products we use and believe in. It helps pay for the costs in providing this (hopefully) entertaining content.

This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit billydecarlo.substack.com/subscribe

We went on another mission to a different big city. As we walked those streets, little Pia seemed in distress and not understanding why there was nowhere for her relief, only hard steel and concrete as far as the eye could see. It was a stark contrast to her pioneer home with us in the woods. She seemed sad, and I wanted to bring her home. She took note of the humans lying on the sidewalk, helpless, and looked up at me as if to ask why.

Project: Pioneer is the live weekly reality journal of a couple and their small dog as they leave their ‘normal’ life in a luxury apartment for a new semi-off grid life in a small recreational vehicle. We cover prepping, politics, spirituality, afterlife, RV life, and personal finance.

I no longer do paid-only posts, because it felt gross to leave people behind, especially those who can’t afford it. If you read my ramblings, I’ll leave it to your conscience. If you get any value from my writing, consider a subscription, which is priced at a few dollars, the minimum allowed by Substack, or a donation. Half of all subscription and donation money goes to The National Alliance to End Homelessness, the other half pays for expenses.

You can listen to the audio podcast version of this journal at Substack, Apple, Spotify, PocketCasts and others.

As we walked the city streets in the blistering heat, we passed countless glittering storefronts filled with $1,000 shoes and $3,000 bags, supermodel clothing worn by dead-eyed soulless mannequins. At the foot of each storefront lay a human being curled fetal on cardboard, motionless, covered in rags, the only sign of life a thin stream of yellow urine escaping into the gutter.

Other humans walked by, trying not to look, trying not to think of the horror of that poor individual’s existence, and the massive disparity in the quality of life of two biologically identical specimens on this tiny speck of a planet. Taking care to step over the stream of piss, they averted their gaze to their phones and maintained a quick pace, but not too quick as to dislodge their iEarbuds. “I have problems, too,” I’m sure many of them concluded. “That clown next door just bought the new iBeemer and I’m still driving that crappy 2023 Lexus. I’ll help people more after I hit my goals.” I’m sure some went with, “Ugh, why can’t someone get these gross people off the street, they scare me.”

I’ve been to some of the most impoverished places in the world. I saw small children squatting naked to defecate outside broken down huts just a block away from luxury fortress-like hotels in Mumbai, India. I walked past the rickety cardboard and plywood favelas in Sao Paulo, Brazil with strings of incredibly dangerous makeshift electrical wiring weaving throughout. When it sparks, they die a horrible death.

It always brought me back to the time I was homeless in winter, as I described in my novel Farawayer. It feels hopeless, and you wonder why nobody will help. You vow, if you ever get back on our feet, to help others. That may be a reason that in my past professional financial life, there was always a clear distinction between how much average people gave to charity versus high-net worth individuals, and it always sickened me.

Giavana and I give monthly to a growing list of charities, and we just added The National Alliance to End Homelessness. I’m now giving basically any money I make from this journal to them as well. When I talk to others, it seems clear that people with money take an attitude that it’s these folks’ fault they haven’t “made it,” because after all, they did (forgetting, for many of them, that inherited silver spoon). They’re dismissive of the fact that most of the homeless are from impoverished backgrounds, and/or have been abused all their lives, and suffering from mental illness. It’s the folks who have been down and out, or currently struggling with their own everyday issues, that have empathy and tend to help.

The wealthy see the homeless as a nuisance, cluttering up their vision of 1940s utopia where smartly dressed Mad Men strut clean city streets to their three-martini jobs while their obedient doting wives spend their days vacuuming, gossiping, making dinner, and picking out something to wear at bedtime to please their hard-working man when he returns home from “networking” at the country club. Incredibly, we just saw a Supreme Court decision making homelessness a crime. “Lock them up!” as the chant goes on the right. They have mental illness, so let’s also teach them how to crime, of course!

There are reasons for impoverishment in some areas of the world, I suppose. But how can it exist here, this shining city on the hill as Reagan called it, the wealthiest country in the history of the world? This quote goes to the theory that those on the right fault these desperate people, and their continual policies that evoke their cruelty toward those less fortunate, or who are different in any way. Republicans continually slash funding for programs to help those in need. They see it as strategic—they can then say, “Look at these shitty democratic-run cities!”

Mr. “Shiny City On the Hill” Reagan left a legacy of doing great harm to programs for those with mental health issues and the homeless. Ironically, he was shot by one of them. As was Trump, another viciously cruel human being (and, incidentally, he was shot at by a registered Republican!) Even though it was clearly a small ear cut from a glass shard that magically fully healed in three days of applying a tampon to the side of his head, but that’s a story for another day.

I always frame these things by imagining Jesus walking among us, and wondering what would he do. It’s not hard to imagine, it’s actually what he did do—help those in need, those with less. It’s what we were asked to do. Hopefully, by now you’re wondering if you’re giving enough, helping enough. If you think you’re struggling, juxtapose your situation against those on the city streets we just visited, or those in Mumbai and Sao Paulo, dying in the blistering heat and other climate catastrophes we’re causing.

Have you noticed we’re just complacently sliding toward a life where we’re forced indoors, unable to do our usual outdoor things due deadly heat, torrential rain, lightning, thunder, extreme winds? Remember to tell your grandkids someday what summer used to be like. It will sound magical to them, but be prepared to answer when they ask what you did to help prevent this.

I wonder how this homelessness can be happening, when we have citizens of this country with immeasurable wealth, who literally make tens of millions of dollars a day and pay no taxes? When we have supposedly benevolent “religious” and “Christian” organizations that have immeasurable wealth around the world and pay no taxes? I’ll tell you how—greed, hate, and ignorance. The calling cards of the right.

This is where you see the stark contrast in the messaging of the two presidential candidates in the US. One is telling you those impoverished people are coming to take what’s yours, and should be locked up and/or killed. They promise to teach them a lesson by taking the nursing babies off their mother’s breast, forever. The other side is providing a message of hope. They’re saying that every family, every individual in this incredibly wealthy country deserves a minimum standard of dignity and standard of living. Pay attention to what they’re saying. We get there partly by making sure the uber-wealthy pay their fair share, whether they like it or not. Vote. Make sure your friends and family are registered and get a mail-in ballot if possible. Understand the assignment!

To help others, you have to get yourself right. Hopefully you get to a place financially where you can help more and more over the course of your life. I always recommend the book I love the most, Kiss Your Money Hello (and Financial Stress Goodbye) and also see the upcoming Plan Your Money Path by the same author. Build wealth the right way, and use it to help others. You’ll feel so good, such worthy self-esteem, set a good example for any kids you might have (involve them!), and maybe pave your way to that blissful eternity we’re promised.

This pioneer journey continues…

Hey, it took me a few hours to write this journal post for you. Can you spend a few seconds and post it on your socials or forward to others? If so, thank you!

Free subscribers get a free copy of my book of short stories, Rambles and Daydreams. Paid subscribers will get all three books in the noir crime trilogy, Vigilante Angels.

You can also support me by becoming a paid subscriber below, leaving a small one-time tip at the button below, or by buying my novels at wildlakellc.com, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, or other fine book outlets in paperback, eBook, or audio. Half of your kind help goes to The National Alliance to End Homelessness.

When you buy something using the retail links in our stories we may get a teeny tiny commission, but it never affects your price or our judgement in linking to products we use and believe in. It helps pay for the costs in providing this (hopefully) entertaining content.

This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit billydecarlo.substack.com/subscribe

There’s been a lot of chatter on the socials about how to leave the US for other countries—like, for good. It’s toned down a bit with the new enthusiasm around Kamala Harris. Let’s talk about it, since Giavana and I like to have options, and one of them is to do exactly that, if necessary. The ability to do something like this, if necessary, is a primary reason we sold our home and all our stuff a year ago.

Project: Pioneer is the live weekly reality journal of a couple and their small dog as they leave their ‘normal’ life in a luxury apartment for a new semi-off grid life in a small recreational vehicle. We cover prepping, politics, spirituality, afterlife, RV life, and personal finance. Most posts are free, more personal posts are to reward our loyal paid subscribers. You can listen to and subscribe to the audio podcast version of this journal at Substack, Apple, Spotify, PocketCasts and others. If you enjoy this post, there’s a button below to leave a small one-time donation.

It’s comforting to have options—to have a plan. You don’t worry as much about power outages after you secure a generator and fuel, for example. You have a plan for that. As preppers, there are so many things to plan for! Climate disasters, forced migration, alien invasions, medical emergencies, power outages, economic collapse, water shortages, nuclear disasters, world war, dystopia, autocracy, civil unrest/rioting, on and on. A lot of that will remain a concern regardless of who wins the election this November.

As hard as it is, it helps to envision each situation and ask how you will get by. Do you have the tools, resources, and expertise necessary? Giavana and I have alarmed our family members, even angered some, with our talk of obtaining dual citizenships and leaving the country if Trump wins this election.

“How could you give up on your country?”

“Stay and fight!”

“How could you leave us behind?”

The answer is simple. From what we’ve seen, what we know, what the forces backing Trump have clearly said, right out in the open, is that America as we know it will cease to exist, in short order. So, we wouldn’t be leaving our country. Our country would be gone, replaced by the dystopian rigid unforgiving evangelical Christian theocracy they’ve carefully outlined. Project 2025 is their written roadmap for a new, severely religious autocratic country. Women, people of color, working people, LGBTQ+, non-Christians all shoved back into the shadows, out of sight, out of mind. Trump just said to an evangelical gathering that there would be no more voting if he wins. He’s said openly he’d like to be a dictator on day one. Giavana and I are too old, been free too long, to adapt to that sort of thing.

As well, we wouldn’t be abandoning our families. We are setting these plans in motion so they have a place to escape to, if necessary and if possible. That is our hope, out of love. So, this is just an option, should things come to that. It’s not the primary plan for our future, it’s a backup plan at this point. We hope it doesn’t come to pass that we need it, like our guns and all those survival items we’ve carefully stockpiled.

Selling our home and all our crap at the market peak of post-COVID housing hysteria to live in an RV full-time was part of that plan. We saw it coming back then. Unfortunately, we were right, so far. There is renewed hope for the election, given we now have a young, energetic candidate who is fully prosecuting the pure evil that is Trump and this right-wing movement.

I’ve talked about boosting our solar capability, water collection/purification, etc. We’re on hold for those things, because if we’re forced to become American refugees seeking asylum in another country (how ironic!), we won’t need to spend that money or undertake that effort. So, we wait.

We have gone from deep despair about the election to optimism and great hope. There’s a wave building, because very few people want to live in a country such as these right-wing lunatics are openly yearning and planning for. The problem is our bizarre system of electing leaders, where despite massive, multi-million vote wins in the popular vote, the loser wins. Where, due to the Supreme Court’s Citizens United decision, vastly wealthy corporations have far more sway in our elections than regular old voters like us.

A lot will happen before the election. These forces yearning for a strict, severe, joyless, freedom-less country are very wealthy and very powerful. As well, the powerful, wealthy dictators in Russia, China, North Korea, Iran, Saudi Arabia, and elsewhere (you know, Trump’s buddies) have a big stake in our coming election. Their dream of carving the world up into a dictator-pie is at stake. This is their cheap and easy shot at that, and they may never get another, without an expensive, bloody world war.

People like JD Vance, Peter Thiel, the Mercers, Leonard Leo, Kevin Roberts, Steve Bannon, Bill Barr, General Flynn, Rupert Murdoch, and Erik Prince all have strong ties to Russia and radical religious branches like the Catholic Opus Dei and the Knights of Malta. Their goal is to jam their strict ideology down your throat, whether you like it or not.

Many of our states are already implementing the tenets of Project 2025, and taking steps to make it hard for the right (wrong) people to vote this November. They’re positioning their lawsuits to fire as soon as Harris is declared the winner. The problem is they’ve installed an openly corrupt Supreme Court.

I have confidence that Harris will win this election, aside from anything egregious the right comes up with at the last minute. It seems they’re realizing that’s a possibility too, with Trump pivoting quickly back to planting the “rigged” theme into his cult’s small brains, to ready them to die for him, for this goal. The right’s talk of civil war, violence, Jan 6 on steroids, has ramped up, to plant those seeds into simple, violent, or mentally unwell minds. Red states are preparing to isolate, maybe to try to secede. This is perhaps their last shot for a long time at the dystopia they envision for us all.

Because of that, we wait, we prepare, we keep our options open here in pioneer-land.

This pioneer journey continues… Don’t forget, commenting is now turned on for everyone on these free posts. Let’s interact!

Big news! Free subscribers will now automatically get a free copy of my book of short stories, Rambles and Daydreams. Paid subscribers will get all three books in the noir crime trilogy, Vigilante Angels.

Hey, it took me a few hours to write this journal post for you. Can you spend a few seconds and post it on your socials or forward to others? If so, thank you!

You can also support me by becoming a paid subscriber below, leaving a small one-time tip at the button below, or by buying my novels at wildlakellc.com, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, or other fine book outlets in paperback, eBook, or audio.

When you buy something using the retail links in our stories we may get a teeny tiny commission, but it never affects your price or our judgement in linking to products we use and believe in. It helps pay for the costs in providing this (hopefully) entertaining content.

This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit billydecarlo.substack.com/subscribe

Just beyond the chest-high legion layer of juvenile corn stalks, our valley sits, fronted by a sentinel forest of hunter green trees. Our pioneer home in the woods lays nestled behind, obscured. The rearguard mountain range runs behind us, striped by sparse cloud cover and the sun above in a brilliant space-blue sky. There is beauty all around, at least for now…

Project: Pioneer is the live weekly reality journal of a couple and their small dog as they leave their ‘normal’ life in a luxury apartment for a new semi-off grid life in a small recreational vehicle. We cover prepping, politics, spirituality, afterlife, RV life, and personal finance. Most posts are free, more personal posts are to reward our loyal paid subscribers. You can listen to and subscribe to the audio podcast version of this journal at Substack, Apple, Spotify, PocketCasts and others. Note: The audio voiceover/podcast for this post will appear this weekend when I'm back in the pioneer studio.

On the approach to our home, a lake shimmers, scattering the sunlight in tiny prisms on the surface. The small pond beside it resonates with croaking frogs. Humans are coming. Similar chatter from the trees, owls and everything with wings celebrating the gift of a new morning.

Just before dawn, Pia and I emerge from our White House RV home for her morning relief. Lately, there is more wildlife to greet us. Last week Pia abruptly stopped at the foot of the stairs, gazing at the wood’s edge at the rear of our home. A beautiful doe stared back, just thirty feet away. We all stood, transfixed. It was like those two were communicating on some wavelength imperceptible to me. They both broke off simultaneously, turning their heads as the telepathic conversation ended, to go about their business. It’s disconcerting when the wildlife begin to acts in ways other than we are accustomed. Perhaps it’s a harbinger. We probably won’t know for sure until it’s too late, unless we reverse course, somehow.

Sometimes we drive, often we walk, just to get out and appreciate the staggering beauty all around us. It’s incredible to behold, and it goes and goes, lush in every conceivable shade of green, without a visible trace of our human presence. Giavana and I chose this unique life out of fear for what may come, but it’s been a blessing regardless.

And now, this week, the immense ocean at sunrise, seagulls calling and feeding, no humans have come yet to litter the beach. The sun peeks up over the horizon from off to the east, to see if the coast is clear. The waves rush the shore, retreat, then hush for a moment, before doing so again, and again. The very cycle of it is familiar to me. It’s the cycle of the peaceful whispering breeze through the trees in our pioneer RV home. All this before the humans awake, and overtake nature with the violence of their presence.

If you look at our swirling blue and white globe from space, you can see—it’s apparent that it is one living organism, surrounded by the black void of space. As with all other complex organisms, it is composed of other organisms—a synergistic ecosystem of life, functioning in harmony. It is life. It is alive.

Our bodies are similar, harboring living things inside and on the surface, in the forest of our body hair, among our cells. Bacteria, viruses, microbiomes, fungi, even tiny insects call us home. We cannot survive without some of them, and some may consume us. There are ten times more microbes in our body than human cells. We take in a flood of them with every breath, every bite of food, every drink.

If any of these guests in our own biosystem steps out of line and attacks, the battle begins. White blood cells rush to defend us, to kill the invader that attempts to throw our systems into chaos and eventual demise.

It’s the same with our beautiful blue sphere. We are among the guests, along with those owls and frogs and trees and corn. The Gaia theory presents that the earth is a complex living organism comprised of many smaller life forms. It is synergistic, complex, and self-regulating, just like our bodies.

Nature heals us, the ocean always accelerating recovery from any mental or physical injury. It pampers us with compassion, but as we more and more become a threat to it, we see it lashing out, an angry parent that has lost its temper. Then she whispers with those rushing waves and whispering winds, a mother trying to sooth its child, hoping it will sleep, hoping it will behave.

It warns us with its violence in tornadoes, hurricanes, floods, fires, earthquakes and erupting volcanoes. The ocean rises up in warning, smashing the gaudy homes that have intruded too close, carrying those polluting people-viruses and their dirty diapers, and destroys them. Gaia. Then nature retreats, calm and peaceful once again, waiting, watching, hoping we’ll heed the warning, and use our alleged intelligence to take the hint and change our destructive behavior.

Some call it God, referencing those terrible Biblical floods, earthquakes, volcanoes, and fires. Perhaps they are one and the same, or two forces beyond our comprehension, working in harmony, sending a message we refuse to hear.

And now the same beautiful beach at sunset. Piles of trash in the sand, plastic and dirty diapers offending the gulls. Massive oil tankers on the horizon, spilling their waste into the water below and air above.

Nothing matches the peace and serenity of diving a tropical reef. The colors of the coral and marine life are spectacular, and there is no sound other than the breathed bubbles and occasional whale song. Everything moves in slow motion and flows in harmony down there—nature is eternal, yet it takes its time and we humans only rush and rush our short lives away.

In my last visits to those reefs that I’ve been diving for many decades, what I remember is gone. Grey coral now, bleached through the oceans we’ve warmed close to boiling. The beautiful fish that feed on the coral had left, of course. The few that remained stare bleakly, questioningly. Why, humans? To what purpose? It was stark there, like the deep winter up top, death and stillness. Beer cans and old tires prominent, without the beauty. I haven’t gone back since, because it figuratively broke my heart and my heart isn’t in the best shape for diving literally. Perhaps we fade out together, my beloved ocean and I.

We see it in the woodland too—morning’s peace broken by gaudy displays of blinking LED lights announcing someone’s preference for one thing or another, humans who come to the natural peace of the forest with their loud trucks and motorcycles, power tools and blasting music, their beer cans often strewn along the path. Chopping on the trees, screwing their flags and signage into the precious living bark and core. Seuss-like, comical if not so sad.

We are uniquely different from any other life form on this planet. Are we outcasts from another, faraway place and perhaps this terrible behavioral inclination is why? The native cultures respected nature above all, and were wiped out by those who did not, we who remain. The mighty dinosaurs once ruled, but were extinguished by nature. This is how it was before us, and how it will be after we’re gone.

The summer marches on, always begged ahead through the frozen gray sticks of winter, but moves too quickly, or we cause it to with our hurry. We seemingly get bored with it, the lush beauty, lured away by the peace of the kids going back to school, the spectacular fall foliage, football, Halloween, turkey, the warmth of the holidays, promise of a new and hopefully better year to come. It’s a trap, though, a lure to hurry us along to the cold emptiness of January to March.

Especially in this country, we hurry, we rush, we’re forced into a fast pace of stress by the capitalistic out of control forces hell-bent on more profit, more, more. People in countries like Italy and Spain live far longer, due to their refusal to work themselves to death, their long vacations, lunch breaks, easier flow, better health care. Our life expectancy in the US is now 79 and dropping fast, as our food and lifestyle kill us off early, along with the Gaia forces we’re bringing on ourselves with our abuse of this beautiful host planet we all share.

I’m hoping there’s more beyond, that our physical shell is a mere host for our spirit, and there is eternal beauty in the beyond like those peaceful coral reefs I enjoyed, and the companionship of those who have already moved on. It keeps me going, it helps me to forgive the ugliness I see.

“Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.” —Jesus, Luke 23:34

This pioneer journey continues… Don’t forget, commenting is now turned on for everyone on these free posts. Let’s interact!

Big news! Free subscribers will now automatically get a free copy of my book of short stories, Rambles and Daydreams. Paid subscribers will get all three books in the noir crime trilogy, Vigilante Angels.

Hey, it took me a few hours to write this journal post for you. Can you spend a few seconds and post it on your socials or forward to others? If so, thank you!

You can also support us by becoming a paid subscriber below, or by buying my novels at wildlakellc.com, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, or other fine book outlets in paperback, eBook, or audio.

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This post is to, for, and dedicated to those Gen-Zers out there. Please send this to any you know. You see, we need their help. We need them to save us.

Hey, I know you’re busy doing like, young people stuff, and, you should be. Like the old song says, it’s summertime, and the livin’ is easy (I hope). This is the free time in your life before you get sucked into the cycle of mortgages, bills, kids, careers. Or, maybe you’re early in that game. But, gimme a minute if you can, it’s important. Toward the end, I’ll tell you how to shape your utopia.

Cuz, I want all your youthful idealism, hope, and exuberance to be for real. As bad as that stuff I just said about mid-adult life sounds, it’s really not. It might be hard at times, but you’ll miss every minute of it when you get to be my age. Ask your gramps, serious now. It’s actually a long, beautiful kaleidoscopic journey through life, especially in a free country like our wonderful USA. You’re probably aware of what life is like for people like you in places like Gaza, Russia, North Korea, Saudi Arabia. Quite different, and not in a good way.

Young people in those countries have no power to change anything. Their only choice is suffering through it all. It doesn’t have to be that way for you, but sadly, that’s the way it’s going. You have power (for now). It doesn’t take much to save yourselves—there are so many of you! It takes everyone doing just a little. I’ll explain in more detail shortly.

You see, kids (I’m old AF, so I get to call everyone “kids”), the idea right now is for you to live like those oppressed young people in those other countries. And worse, your children if you have any, and worse than that even, your grandchildren. The problem is, apparently most of these ridiculous, cranky-ass old people you’ve been dealing with in school, maybe at home, wherever, now want to cram a really messed up lifestyle down your throat, without any choice, like, forever. They want to take away your freedoms, your joy, your life.

I know it’s hard to pay attention to all the messed up stuff old people are up to. You’d rather just have fun and be patient until it’s your turn to take over the world, cuz that’s how it’s always worked, we all got to have that. They know this. They see the trending—how many of you there are, how against their hateful garbage you are, how tolerant you are. They haven’t won the popular vote in decades, so, they’re in a hurry to rig the game against you, before you can enjoy what you earned and fix this mess.

If you’re not up on things, the TL;DR is that the skids are being greased to end our 250 year old beautiful messy melting pot of a democracy and install an autocrat leader and theology-based government. Every barrier, every guardrail to prevent this, is being demolished. The plan is to make the USA a fundamentalist evangelical Christian version of Saudi Arabia. You know, the place where females have to cover in black head to toe in 100 degree heat. They even had the stones to write it all up and wave it around in public, because they’re so confident this is all in the bag. Read on it, Project 2025.

For real, here’s what it’s all about, at least the parts they’re telling us now (they say there’s even more we won’t see till “later!”) Much of the below is clearly stated in the Project 2025 document (which the Republican party and Trump have fully endorsed and participated in the design of), other parts of this are inferred in their various stated policy documents, statements in interviews, and hacked info.

* If you’re a female, you will take a back seat in virtually every way to anyone born as a dude, and your government will make decisions about what you can do with your body, even if you be dyin’

* Your socials will be over, for sure and for real, only approved and heavily state-surveilled communications permitted (no tikky no tokky)

* Your manner of dress will be far more modest—only outfits approved by the state

* You popping off with your opinion on stuff, will be, you guessed it—over (unless you like prison)

* The music and arts you may enjoy will be heavily censored and highly religiosity in nature

* You will spend your life in mass migration as your planet is burned to a cinder and flooded randomly as they suck it dry for corporate profits

* If you’re middle class, you’ll be pushed down into a lower-class, so you have no economic power to change any of this—you is either a “have” or a “have not”

* If you vote, well, that s**t is going to be over, goes without saying, we doing autocracy now, try to keep up

* If you’re any kind of “other,” including loving other, skin color other than white, religious other than fundamentalist evangelical Christian (the hateful type, not the actual nice kind like Jesus was), you will be sent away, or subject to “reprogramming,” or pushed to the shadows

* You WILL be a devout fundamentalist Christian (the hateful type, not the actual nice kind like Jesus was)

The good news is if you’re a wealthy, white, straight, male, fundamentalist evangelical Christian (the hateful type, not the actual nice kind like Jesus was), you all good, brah!! Otherwise, it’s kind of like that show where the Amish kids get to leave their plain, austere lifestyle and go nuts for a while (aka be like you) but in reverse, and permanently.

The problem is, we have monsters now. Like the kind you always imagined under your bed, but this time, for real. That sucks, but don’t be afraid. Like all monsters, they’re not all that, not what they seem, and they can be sent away, defeated.

That 20-year old kid was probably thinking about this when he decided to take his shot on Saturday. It was the wrong thing to do. Violence isn’t the answer. Usually, like in his case, it makes things worse. He gave his life. What you should do, is stand up. It’s your world, after all. Us old people are just living in it, taking up space, slow-drivin’, too many of us screwing it all up with our decrepit brains, bodies, and morals. Here’s another good old guy, making a strong case for you.

Want to slay this BS? You only need donate a few minutes of your time every once in a while. You can do quite a bit from home, a few minutes here and there. Find some orgs that are passionate and involved, they’ll guide you. Young Democrats, Indivisible, Swing Left, there’s a bunch. You guys are better than me at this stuff. Get out and protest (safely, non-violently). Educate on this. Make some noise. Make good trouble. Make your voice heard. Educate your peers, get them all registered and vote by mail if you can.

This happened in the 60s when young people got fed up about old people screwing up their world. They made a difference, until the movement got sidetracked by excess. Don’t make that mistake. The Occupy movement in more recent times made a difference before it fizzled. Everything is at stake now for you. Too many fought and died for you to be free. It’s your world, don’t let anyone screw it up on you. From what I’ve seen of your generation, you’re damn smart, compassionate, creative, and fully capable of putting this movement down.

And after that, please make our species the civilized, ethical, kind, compassionate, tolerant, non-hateful, non-greedy beings that we’re capable of being. Like that nice Jesus asked us to be. I’m sure there aren’t many of you on Substack, so maybe you can be the new, young leader we desperately need, share this on your socials, spread the word, Go!

All the way from WashingtonHer bread-winner begs off the bathroom floor"We live for just these twenty yearsDo we have to die for the fifty more?"

Mama's got cramps, and look at your hands acheI got a suite and you got defeatAin't there a man who can say no more?And, ain't there a woman I can sock on the jaw?And, ain't there a child I can hold without judging?

—David Bowie, Young Americans

Project: Pioneer is the live weekly reality journal of a couple and their small dog as they leave their ‘normal’ life in a luxury apartment for a new semi-off grid life in a small recreational vehicle. We cover prepping, politics, spirituality, afterlife, RV life, and personal finance. Most posts are free, more personal posts are to reward our loyal paid subscribers. You can listen to and subscribe to the audio podcast version of this journal at Substack, Apple, Spotify, PocketCasts and others.

Hey, it took me a few hours to write this journal post for you. Can you spend a few seconds and post it on your socials or forward to others? Especially if they’re young Americans? If so, thank you!

This pioneer journey continues… Don’t forget, commenting is now turned on for everyone on these free posts. Let’s interact!

Big news! Free subscribers will now automatically get a free copy of my book of short stories, Rambles and Daydreams. Paid subscribers will get all three books in the noir crime trilogy, Vigilante Angels.

You can also support us by becoming a paid subscriber below, or by buying my novels at wildlakellc.com, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, or other fine book outlets in paperback, eBook, or audio.

When you buy something using the retail links in our stories we may get a teeny tiny commission, but it never affects your price or our judgement in linking to products we use and believe in. It helps pay for the costs in providing this (hopefully) entertaining content.

This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit billydecarlo.substack.com/subscribe

“It’s better to be a warrior in a garden, than a gardener in a war.” —Miyamoto Musashi, The Book of Five Rings

The violence in my last post might have been a bit hard to deal with. I’m sorry about that, but it’s important to drive home what’s happening, what could happen, and to prepare. The shock factor was to wake people up, to motivate them to become active, to hopefully, possibly prevent this. This post will be about how to protect yourself if it does.

Project: Pioneer is the live weekly reality journal of a couple and their small dog as they leave their ‘normal’ life in a luxury apartment for a new semi-off grid life in a small recreational vehicle. We cover prepping, politics, spirituality, afterlife, RV life, and personal finance. Most posts are free, more personal posts are to reward our loyal paid subscribers. You can listen to and subscribe to the audio podcast version of this journal at Substack, Apple, Spotify, PocketCasts and others.

What’s New

Before we get into the subject of the week, I’ll get you caught up on our pioneer journey. Our White House RV has kept up well with the constant, oppressive heat. We’ve had to run the A/C quite a bit—another reminder we’re too reliant on the electric grid and need more solar equipment. It’s almost mid-July and so far, our fears of rowdy, drunken, loud campers has been unfounded. This place is beautiful, quiet solitude for the most part. We’ve chosen well.

We need to be able to survive the coming climate apocalypse, especially if Trump gets elected, because it will certainly come much faster than otherwise. Have you noticed that it’s much harder to get out and enjoy summer? Even in June! The heat is Florida-summer oppressive, even in the north. We’re smashing through every record.

Giavana and I went up on the mountain behind our pioneer home. We staked out the route, possible locations to flee to and hunker down out of sight, possibly set up camp, and if necessary make a last stand as I described in my last post. A cleared area that’s not visible from any road or path is optimal, especially with a high vantage point. Our little dog Pia would certainly notify us of anyone approaching. We’d place place trip wires, snares, and more around the perimeter.

I traveled to a reggae festival. Have you ever noticed that the most beautiful, hopeful, joyful music has come from the most oppressed populations? This is true of reggae, jazz, blues, R&B, and so on. Here was another festival, in 100 degree heat, filled with people rejoicing. It was very multiracial, gays, straights, young, old, people simply rejoicing together on a sweltering summer day. Nobody fighting, or shooting each other. “Don’t worry, ‘bout a thing. Cuz every little thing, gone be alright…” Here’s an excellent take on one of those hopeful songs, Sam Cooke’s A Change is Gonna Come. (Narrator: We’re still waiting…) I like it because it’s done by a bunch of young kids, carrying that torch.

I grew up in white suburbia, literally no black kids in my schools. I heard all the racists tales about black folk, passed down from racist parents to their kids. When I went into the military, I got a wakeup call. Turns out, they’re regular people, and there’s bad ones and good ones, like any other color of human. If you assume all black people are criminals because of something you saw one do on the news, do you assume all white people are school shooters? Serial killers who eat people like Jeffrey Dahmer?

So, I’m pretty tired of these pasty-white milquetoast silver-spoon trust fund baby country club golfing white dudes hating on everyone who isn’t just like them. Get out to some of these festivals and be among your fellow human beings a little, you hateful idiots. Or, get out of our beautiful diverse melting pot of a country and head to your utopia - Russia. You’ll be welcomed with open arms, a rifle, and one-way trip to the front lines. Enjoy your trip.

Lastly, it’s been big fun now that the evil, horrible Project 2025 plan is out of the bag, watching Trump and his acolytes try to distance themselves from it. Who? What? Never heard of it, never heard of them. Too bad it was architected by 140 of his top administration officials, and is subtitled, A 2025 Presidential Transition Project and A Mandate for Leadership. Yes, “Mandate.”

Violence: How to Protect Yourself

We’ve heard explicit calls for and threats of violence up through, during, and after the coming election. There may be violence at the polling places. There is violence at the stores, churches, movie theaters because we’re so divided. It might come to your neighborhood, or God forbid, your home. It could happen anywhere, and happen suddenly. People are still stressed from COVID, and on edge. The extreme Project 2025 fundamentalists on the right are calling for the next American revolution. A lot of innocent citizens died in the last one, and in the Civil War.

So, what can you do? A big theme of this journal is prepping, or “preparing.” I’ve posted before on this topic, so see those for tips on things like home security and other important aspects of this topic. What I want to discuss here, in more detail, is how to protect yourself from violence.

You’ve seen the standard advice on what to do in situations like a standard mugging. Making lots of noise is good move, for example. Learning a few self-defense moves may buy you a few seconds of separation to pull that siren alarm on your keychain, and/or pull a weapon of some sort. We’ll cover some of those. But, know this—you aren’t going to get into some kind of movie or TV-show martial arts battle with an attacker. Most fights begin with maybe a blow or two exchanged, and quickly turn into a grappling match. All that karate and boxing stuff goes out the window quick. Trust me, I know. If you want to learn useful skills, learn something like jiu-jitsu.

The kind of violence in the scenarios to come isn’t like a mugger waiting for you in the shadows. It’s likely to be chaos, lots of people involved. Blowing your whistle or siren won’t be much help, because everyone around, including any law enforcement, may be tied up in altercations. Most fights last only seconds. It’s the aftermath that drags on—court battles, physical and psychological healing, etc. Here’s how to stay clear, or what to do if you can’t.

Situational Awareness: First, get your head out of that phone. Good Lord. The number of people walking around transfixed on their phones, even when standing around, is a goldmine of targets. When driving, even! If something is about to happen, a situation is about to get dangerous, you are missing important clues and time to escape. Practice situational awareness, always. Be keenly focused on your surroundings, and more importantly, the people around you and what they’re doing. Even when driving, but more importantly in public settings. At home, make it a practice to pay attention to what is “normal” in your neighborhood. On your walks, get to know the cars, the habits of people, who your actual neighbors are. This makes it easy to pick up on anything that’s abnormal—strange cars, strange people, and so on.

No matter where you are, make a practice of asking yourself what the escape routes are. If a shooting starts, where can you take cover? How can you get to the exit without exposing yourself? Keep your head on a swivel, and exude confidence. If you look scared, you might be the first choice. We know how bullies are. Look tough, look like you belong.

If you get into a confrontation and hurt someone, and they cease to be a threat you need to call 911 and your attorney. Drop your weapons if it’s safe to do so. Give enough info to allow them to get there and render aid, but skip the details until you have advice of counsel. Make sure the authorities know you are the good person—hands up, no weapons. Make sure you aren’t hurt—adrenaline can mask that! If so, make sure you get aid before any attacker.

If you use deadly force, you better be able to back up in court that you were in genuine fear for your life or your family’s life or health. Castle doctrine means you can defend your home, but for example you can’t drag a body in there, or go outside and taunt or lure someone inside so you can shoot them. You normally have a duty to retreat, if possible. Again, laws around this are different in different states. Even if you aren’t charged criminally, you might get sued civilly.

Amazon Prime Days is upcoming, so I was tempted to throw some links in here for you. But, you should really go to a brick and mortar store to personally handle these types of items to find out what’s comfortable in your own hand, with your own physique. Talk to the staff, they’re usually quite knowledgeable. These items are sold at stores like Cabela’s, Bass Pro, Dick’s, Army/Navy, and hunting/gun stores. That way you’ll also be more assured what you’re buying is legal. Be very careful about leaving items in your car as you drive over state borders, because they may be illegal along your route.

That said, here are some excellent books. You might consider both the paper versions and the ebook as a backup, in case the paper is destroyed or lost in a crisis situation.

Prepper’s Armed Defense

The Prepper’s Blueprint

Prepper’s Long-Term Survival Guide

Complete Prepper’s Survival Bible

SAS Survival Handbook

Survival Medicine Handbook

Weapons: First, know the laws where you live and don’t violate them. Here are some ideas for items you can carry on your person and/or in your vehicle easily, if legal. Remember, these items are useless and more likely dangerous to you, unless you practice with them and get training. YouTube University doesn’t count, you have to develop muscle memory.

Expandable Baton: These can be used to disable, create space, or restrain an attacker. They’re compact and surprisingly lightweight.

Pepper Spray: This may buy you time, but consider you may end up with a more enraged attacker, as some of these are very inaccurate, defective, weak, and ineffective. The newer types use a streaming gel system that’s much more accurate and sticky, and may also have a dye to help law enforcement identify the perpetrator. The only strength measurement that matters is the CRC level. It should be at least 1%.

TASER: This is an electroshock gun that fires two metal probes attached to wires in the gun. Both probes need to hit the target for it to work, so proximity is an issue. Usually it’s about 15 feet max. Closer is better, but not too close, the target should at least be a few feet away. You might also miss, and most only give you one shot.

Stun Guns: These are hand-held devices that deliver an electric shock when pressed up against someone’s body. They’re good for up-close confrontations, and do work through clothing. This can be a problem if it’s taken away from you before you can use it! Many are disguised as everyday items.

Flashlights: Small, rugged flashlights are often also designed as a self-defense weapons, i.e. for bonking someone on the head, striking them in the face or other sensitive areas. They also typically have a strobe setting that can distract attackers, disable their vision, and identify that you’re in distress to bystanders.

Guns: Just the sight of one is often enough to get an attacker to back away. State laws are very important! In some states you can carry a concealed weapon, or an unconcealed one. Above all, the mantra of practice being critical appears here. Guns can kill in many ways, including being left out in the open in homes with children.

Most handguns are simple, but do involve a few mechanisms that make them useless if you aren’t aware of how they work, such as the safety, clip release, bolt, barrel, slide, etc. Assault rifles are designed for long-range killing with precise aim. If someone is invading your home, you’re much better off with a shotgun. Get professional help at a good local gun store and range, as there are many variables as to which is the best one for you. Memorize the four primary rules of gun safety:

* Always assume a gun is loaded

* Never point a gun at something/someone you don’t intend on destroying

* Never put your finger on the trigger until you’re ready to fire

* Always look at what’s behind your target, because that’s what you very well may hit

Refer to my previous posts for more specific recommendations. You should practice cleaning and assembling/disassembling any weapons you own.

Bows, Crossbows, Slingshots, Blowguns: These can be lethal and effective weapons, especially if you live somewhere that you can’t have guns. There are likely places to buy and train on them near you. They can be used to deploy various types of projectiles to kill, maim, disable, cause fires, explosions, gas, etc.

Knives: These are typically fixed-blade or folding models. Folding knives are easier to conceal and safer, but do require that extra second (and practiced skill!) to open. Folding knives can break, as can fixed-blade knives that aren’t truly one piece (called a tang). It should have a strong handguard or hilt to prevent your hand from sliding down across the blade. A knife should be kept sharp, so make sure you know how to sharpen it. A lanyard wrapped around your hand helps to prevent it from being taken away from you. But, if not used properly, it can also be used to control and manipulate your body. For example, you stab someone, they twist around or fall, and you go to the ground with them.

Improvised: A rock or pool ball in a sock (um, not that ankle kind) can be a good weapon, on the cheap (please don’t steal the pool ball from your local bar, I hate that!). A can of hair spray can make an improvised flame thrower, but don’t burn your house down, please. Walking sticks can be used as batons, and some even have concealed blades or even shotgun shells in them. Remember all the creative things Kevin thought of in the movie Home Alone? Be careful out there!

Again, we hope none of this ever comes to pass. However, the calls for violence and likelihood grow louder.

Finally, if you think this is, again, sensationalism, here’s a pretty good take on how things could very well go down within a few months. It’s exactly what they’re saying they’re going to do, after all. The quote I led in with is significant in this regard! Be a warrior in a garden.

This pioneer journey continues… Don’t forget, commenting is now turned on for everyone on these free posts. Let’s interact!

Big news! Free subscribers will now automatically get a free copy of my book of short stories, Rambles and Daydreams. Paid subscribers will get all three books in the noir crime trilogy, Vigilante Angels.

Hey, it took me a few hours to write this journal post for you. Can you spend a few seconds and post it on your socials or forward to others? If so, thank you!

You can also support us by becoming a paid subscriber below, or by buying my novels at wildlakellc.com, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, or other fine book outlets in paperback, eBook, or audio.

When you buy something using the retail links in our stories we may get a teeny tiny commission, but it never affects your price or our judgement in linking to products we use and believe in. It helps pay for the costs in providing this (hopefully) entertaining content.

This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit billydecarlo.substack.com/subscribe

My Sweet Jessie,

The writer Hemingway once said that things happen slowly, then all at once. You don’t know of him, and you won’t, of course. Not now, as those works are long gone. When you visited our small paradise this past summer and we went on our beach vacation, it was the best of times. My final image will be your smile during our walks through the woods, and that beautiful picture of me you drew in the sand at the beach. All during those final times together, my sweet grandchild.

I’m writing this old school, pen to paper, and I hope it will someday reach you. I’ll send it out through the underground network. You must be aware that we’ve been taken. Giavana and I had spent so much time preparing, and it bought us time, but it all happened so much more quickly than we or anyone had anticipated. So many were caught unawares, and those frogs slowly boiling to death did doom us. I want you to know about us and how we fared, so you don’t grieve. We are finally at peace, certainly, by the time these words reach you.

It’s ironic how all the attention in those last months was sucked up by the crisis caused by the debate, and took the focus from where it should have been—what was happening out in plain view. They even openly telegraphed the “Second Revolution” and violence to come. In the end, that Biden decision didn’t even matter, the outcome was always going to be the same. The Project’s boldness was certainly a harbinger that the fix was already in, their supreme confidence telegraphing they already had it in the bag.

We thought we had until inauguration day to get out. We had done so much planning, but didn’t anticipate what was to come. When the election went to the House due to neither reaching 270 electoral votes, mostly because of all the disruptive violence keeping the right people away from the polls on election day, their fully owned courts moved swiftly and decisively. They’d spent so many years, so much money putting those corrupt judges in place, and it paid off in spades.

The Project forces came swiftly to our area, after taking DC. Who ever imagined so many in law enforcement and the military were acceptable to this brutal ideology and would turn coat so swiftly! The massive numbers they had already embedded facilitated it all so efficiently, it was staggering to behold, my sweet Jessie. The Flynn brothers set that terror network up so well in the years since Biden won. When the stuff hit the fan, Giavana and I were unable to leave as they’d immediately seized all roads. I tried to call, but the abrupt termination of internet, cellular, and satellite communication did not allow for it. I’m so sorry. Thus, this, my final letter to you, my sweet Jessie.

As we already knew from their gaudy décor, and as you remarked upon your visit, most of our fellow residents in this woodland campground were fans of Trump. And, of course, most had weapons as well. In their giddy excitement and delusion that they were somehow warriors in this fight, they immediately began their own search and destroy missions right here in our paradise home. We had stayed well under their radar, flying our proud American flags, but could never bring ourselves to post any Trump signage, and we knew this would be our mistake. Knowing what was to come, we decided not to hitch up our beautiful White House RV and simply loaded our most essential survival gear into Henrik’s bed, and began to navigate the dirt roads out of the compound, of course along with little Pia, who was scared beyond belief.

By this time, they’d posted one of their celebratory drunken, obese individuals at the campground’s exit gate. We saw him ahead as we navigated the long straight road out, standing there in the middle of the road, bedecked with the stars and stripes of the country he was betraying. His assault rifle was rested on his protruding gut, trigger finger splayed along the side as he’d seen in so many war movies. At this point, I’d slipped my 9mm from the center console. We pulled up and rolled down our window, professing a friendly exit for some groceries and beer. However, he had the fantasy of killing some libs in his head and whether by instinct or just making it to be what he wanted it to be, he became defiant and asked us to step out.

I need to be honest with you, my sweet Jessie. When he reached for his walkie-talkie to radio for help, Ms. Giavana and I both knew we had to decide. “Do it,” she whispered as tempers flared and Pia whimpered in the seat behind us. I must confess to you, and our God, Jessie, we had to save ourselves, so I put one in his forehead. I must also confess that not much else felt better in my life, to my shame, and I hope God understands and forgives, as I’ve already asked for that forgiveness many times.

So, we made our already mapped route up the paths to the top of the mountain, and found the spot we’d picked out in a small clearing, to make our stand. We had some time of peace, and once our perimeter was set up, made ourselves a small picnic, as if it were a peaceful day in the before time. Then, I mounted my assault rifle in the truck bed, and prepared for what was surely to come.

And soon, they did come, those raggedy militia forces with their Trump banners, my sweet Jessie. Giavana and Pia hunkered down in the rear cab of the truck, deploying the assets we’d prepared to confuse, distract, and cause fear in them. They sent gas, but we had our gas masks on. I’m sorry to say, sweet Jessie, in the midst of this chaos Pia became overwhelmed and escaped through the small rear hatch window, and ran. And to be honest, Jessie, so you know what you are up against, those b******s shot our sweet baby. They didn’t need to, but they knew the effect on us would hamper our ability to make good decisions.

I’d like to say I’m happy about how many of them we took out, as they advanced around our perimeter, Giavana was so brave, that Italian city girl emptying one clip after another from our handguns to keep them at bay. When the Project forces arrived to take over for the local militia, the drones came, and we had to lay down our arms and raise our hands. I still cannot understand why they didn’t shoot us on the spot, but they are conniving people, Jessie. They surely have other plans for us.

While locked in the transport vehicle with other patriots, we heard the announcement. As they’d secured the capital as much as they needed to be confident in their control, they then removed Trump and installed Supreme Leader Mike Johnson. It was announced that all civilian firearms should be turned in immediately. Of course, as we progressed in our journey, the militias of Trump cult members were getting word of this, and began attacking our armored Project vehicle. We watched their feeble, ignorant rage through steel-grated windows as the Project forces mowed them down. We could hear the grinding above as the gunner in the turret swiveled and fired, his gleeful war cries audible above the patter of spent 50 caliber shell casings raining down on the vehicle’s roof. “You fools,” was all I could think as I watched them die in agony, due to their ignorance and hatred.

So, here we are, my sweet Jessie. We’re in some kind of camp, not knowing if we’re to be gassed or burned like Hitler’s Jews, tortured, or reprogrammed, or used for some other devious agenda. The camp is split into populations—the LGBTQ+ folks they refer to as “pornographers,” the mixed race couples they refer to as “race betrayers.” All people of color in one area, called, “immigrants” despite living here for generations, look to be shipped out soon to further this Aryan race dream-vision of 1940s America. All Catholics, Protestants, Jews and Muslims or non-evangelical Christians who don’t fit other descriptions, referred to as simply, “sinners,” are mixed in with the rest of us. I think those will be fine, as long as they accept the Project’s One True Faith. As of this writing, we do not know our fate.

As I am not optimistic, I am writing this goodbye to you, dear grandchild. I have had a good life, and I’ve seen the best and the worst of us. I never got to be a famous writer, but even better I got to know you, and I hope someday you can once again openly be yourself, create your beautiful art, and this world somehow survives. You are young, and I am full of hope for that outcome. After all, we did once defeat Hitler, against all odds.

I’m so happy you got away, for now. At least, that’s the last I heard, or maybe what I want to believe. Your daddy is a war hero and your mom is a badass. They’ll keep you safe as long as possible. But you must remember, my sweet Jessie, this is not like the before times. Sadly, you must protect who you are for now. Be private in your love.

Goodbye, my sweet Jessie. Be good, be kind, and we’ll share eternity. Until then, don’t let the b******s get you down.

Love, Papa xoxo

“Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering.” ~Yoda

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