‘Preserving our history’


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Jos. Robt. Walker gives the ancient V sign of the English long bowman, signifying he still has his draw fingers to nock an arrow and rain hell

Houston City – Koloneh still sits astride his horse in the roundabout that leads to the glittering stretch of Main Street known as The Texas Medical Center, past the ivied walls of Rice Institute and the greenery of Hermann Park. His legend provides a dream of freedom in which to believe and carry the fight, and about 600 defiant patriots gathered there on Saturday under the close watch of Houston Police officers to defy the worldwide Islamic fatwah against idolatry of their heros.

Their religious doctrine calls for either the execution by blade, or the accepted surrender of dhimmitude of any who will not yield to the demands of the Prophet Muhammed or accede to the law of their chosen religion – the religion of peace, as it is called.

In the face of their display of armed force, their enemy, the dreaded Fifth Ward Nation of Islam personality known as Quanell X of the New Black Panther Party – as well as representatives of anarchist groups from venues such as Seattle and Boston, New Orleans and Atllanta, and elsewhere throughout the nation, who flooded the city’s backpacker hostels – failed to make an appearance, as promised.

Their goal of demanding in public that the statue of The Raven, Koloneh, the hero of the 18-minute Battle of San Jacinto who presided as Grand Master over the formation of the Grand Lodge of Texas, was forgotten.

Sam Houston’s mount on a pedestal surmounting an elevated arc de triomphe has two raised hooves to signify his war wounds in his youthful fights with the Indians and at San Jacinto, as the commanding general who led from his position astride a horse.

He bled. Twice. As long as his statue is there, any warrior will know that, just by looking.

He fought because Sharp Knife had summoned Past Masters to the White House by personal letter – nothing other than his dinner invitations were ever written or recorded in the annals of the U.S. Government – to advise them that since a member of the Viennese Hapsburg dynasty was in power at Mexico City, the prospect of defending the nation’s southwestern border at the swampy Sabine River, thereby to collect duties and tariffs, repel invaders, and provide for lawful immigration, was nearly impossible. It would be so much better to have more than a thousand miles of cactus and burning sands, wild hogs and rattle snakes, scorpions, and a pitiless sun for a border, he reasoned.

Was it a land grab? Not really. Real property, he reasoned, along with Houston, the former District Attorney of Nashville, Indian Scout and man at arms, is titled, “to have and to hold.”

Double check on the verb, to hold. If you can’t hold it, you have nothing, as it is written and recorded on any deed worth the expense of the paper and ink.

Rousing rebel cheers greeted motorcycle enthusiasts as they arrived

Following an introduction by a citizen journalist, John Robert Walker and his wife Megan, from this city, both armed with AR-15 rifles and handguns, said – nearly in unison – “We are preserving our history.” The man raised his right forefinger and middle finger in the V-shaped salute of the English long bowman, the one intended for the enemy, the one that says, “I have my fingers and they are still fit to nock an arrow, one that is aimed at you, dear boy.”

Their unifying idea is that if your enemy can erase the symbols of a culture’s recorded history, within a generation or two, that culture’s values and principles of organization will fade into the forgotten twilight of a failed civilization.

Every tyrant who has triumphed in the history of mankind has sought similar dominance, they both noted. It is the organizing principle of “This Is Texas,” a controversial patriot organization that is making waves throughout a culture of defiant, wide awake and militant men and women who are hell bent on preserving their freedom so their kids and grandkids may flourish under the system for which Sam Houston, Andrew Jackson, and other members of the Party of Jefferson bled – in war and in peace.

A man who introduced himself as Brett, a third generation Houstonian, said “Something seems to have changed… People don’t seem to want to work.” He mentioned a certain lack of civility in the world.

Visitors to the rally parked in the lot provided for visitors to the Houston Zoo; they were met with air conditioned buses of the type used to shuttle patients to the area’s hospitals for their transportation to the rally, where they would be separated by mounted police from the counter protesters, who never arrived. Each busload were greeted by the deep voiced gravitas of John Beverly, head of security for This is Texas, who said, “Gentlemen, let me remind you – before you pull that weapon . Your life will change forever when you do. There are a lot of numb nuts out there – excuse my language, ladies – and you will be able to recognize them when you see them. When you do, point them out, and we will handle it appropriately.”

Cavalrymen flanked the crowds, ready encircle or outflank trouble

At one point, Beverly’s security forces distributed to each squad handheld tactical radios programmed to the same frequencies.

It was a moment, one representing a quick demonstration of the difference of colors, various signals that prompted the horsemen to encircle an area, or to withdraw and assemble on a different flank. Riflemen arranged themselves in loose-knit ranks of squads awaiting the next event 

As the ceremonies of singing the National Anthem, shaking hands and exchanging delighted hugs progressed, rousing cheers went up as newcomers rode in on their American made V-twin motorcycles, their flags flying. It was a real celebration, the kind of experience that resounds for a lifetime.

Police show their contempt for a ‘numb nuts’ ejected, with bullhorn

One such numb nuts tried to shout down a speaker with a powered megaphone. The crowd of armed men put the sleeve on him; they hustled him with the bum’s rush, his feet barely touching the ground, to the edge of the sidewalk where the Houston cops isolated him and escorted him to the crosswalk in safety. As he remonstrated with them, the cops advised him to leave quietly.

While the cops did this, people shouted such cat calls as “Say goodbye, little feller,” and “Go home and go back to being a keyboard warrior in your parents’ basement while your mama fixes your lunch.”

Wide-eyed kids rode by on the miniature train, their attention drawn to the horsemen, the armed men and women, the many flags unfurled, the esprit de combat oozing electric energy on the village green, the city’s Common where the militia drilled.

‘Something seems to have changed…’ said Brett, ‘People don’t seem to want to work.’ 

It was a peaceful demonstration of a militant society insisting on the respect that comes only when an enemy knows the means of defense is at hand, and the people – We The People – so armed lawfully, will not hesitate to use it. As another man we interviewed said, “There seems to be something different now.” Stepping over the line – the one the Colonel drew with his sword in the sand – will make a man and a woman feel that way.

At some point, in the middle of all this, the police commanders made a quick decision to not enforce the anti-smoking in public ordinance. Just don’t put the butts in the reflecting pool; it makes them soggy and hard to light. Smoke ’em if you got ’em. Field strip the butts and put them in the right place. Suddenly, the elements of the operation had coalesced into an avant village of brothers and sisters in arms.

Police Chief Art Acevedo, who seems to have arrived here as quickly as he could from Austin to take command of the department, could not hide the pleased look on his countenance.

After all, he lives and works in the nation’s third largest community, the worldwide petroleum production capital, and the Space Ci

Houston, we have no problem. It’s just another ordinary day.

I have spoken.

So mote it be.

The Legendary Jim Parks

Why not bus the protesters in air conditioned comfort instead of making them march under arms from the parking areas? Just blocks away, patients who have traveled from all over the world arrive at their hospitals in the same fashion? It’s how things are done in Space City. 


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