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Pissing Off the Readers – Capitol Siege Edition

January 13, 2021 / / 1 Comment

I am still working my way through my thoughts on last week’s riot in the Capitol Building. I know what my initial thoughts were and how some of them have lessened/modified over the last week. Here’s my current thought processes. In true fashion, it’s probably going to make everyone hate me.

  1. President Trump needs to be impeached for conduct unbecoming. The assault on the Capitol was the culmination of his refusal to accept that he lost, his consistent promulgating and/or repeating of discredited conspiracy theories, and him using his base like expendable pawns. He needs to be impeached with an eye to holding him unsuitable for office. Then let Trump run through the courts before he could even hope to make a 2024 run.

  2. This was yet another round of political violence. I do not like how political violence is becoming more and more acceptable among the general public. Here’s where my internal contradictions begin to show themselves. There is some nuance in that it was focused violence against a particular institution than just general mayhem. Like I said when the BLM riots started up, I can understand attacks on the buildings of the institutions much more than I can understand attacking the local merchants. I can’t condone it, but I can understand it.

  3. The swiftness of the various tech platforms to de-platform Trump and others has me concerned. Yes, they are private companies. Just like Wal-Mart can tell disruptive customers to leave, so can Twitter and Facebook. Here’s the nuances. Wal-Mart never held itself out as a public forum, which the social media firms have done. It’s part of the reason so many people feel violated. It’s also creepy how they work in concert against specific individuals, groups, and companies. There’s something wrong about that, but not something I can put into words. Particularly when it appears to be only one side that’s subjected to such treatment. Another part of the nuance is that leaving people without reasonable avenues to express themselves leads to bad things. Look at how many bombings the US had during the late 60’s into the 70’s. Many of those were less to cause death/destruction and more to bring notice. I am not saying tech firms would be responsible for any uptick in such happenings. I’m saying it’s something to take into consideration as a possibility.

I’m going to stop with those points as the rest of things swirling in my head aren’t really ready for prime time. Maybe a subsequent post. Honestly, I’m starting to get politic fatigue.

Monday Fiction – Zombie Strike – Part 6 – Chapter 53

January 11, 2021 / / 1 Comment

Washington DC, 27 July 2010, 1100 Hours Local: Countdown: 1 Year, 3 months, 5 days

Slim Thomas’s stomach started to unclench as the odd plane began its final descent into Reagan National. Flying normally didn’t bother him. Flying half-way around the globe in an experimental plane that constantly groaned and rattled did bother him. Where had MacKenzie and Winston dug up this ungainly craft? The insurance firm’s rep refused to answer the question. The plane groaned again followed by a metallic pop. Slim tightened his grip on the useless arm rest. He surveyed his companions. How the soldiers could just nod off as soon as they were strapped in amazed and disturbed Slim.

"Dude, are we there yet?" asked The Steve from the seat next to Slim. As soon as the Army showed up, The Steve reverted back to his normal, slightly off-kilter self. Slim didn’t know whether to be annoyed or relieved. Besides, there were bigger things to be concerned about.

"Coming in for a landing," Slim answered, "The pilot said we should be on the ground in fifteen minutes."

"You been awake the whole trip?" The Steve asked. Slim just nodded. "The Steve should’ve given you a nice sedative."

"It’s okay," Slim quickly said, "They had an Arsenal match on the telly. Made the time fly right by."

"You’ve been awake for better than thirty-six hours," The Steve said, "As soon as we get a chance, you need to grab some rack time. The Steve doesn’t understand why you didn’t pass out with the rest of us."

"As if I could sleep on this death-trap," Slim replied, "Did you know we went supersonic on this thing?"

"Kind of the point. Still much better than the time The Steve and his team had to ride in the belly of a B-1. That was not fun." Slim looked askance at the team medic. Some of his tales seemed overly fantastical. Still, they held the odd ring of truth.

A short time later, the plane slammed down on the runway. Almost as soon as the plane slowed, black SUVs surrounded the plane and directed it into an isolated hangar. As the team deplaned, they were surprised to find their field leader waiting for them. Mateo Cortez walked over to the crowd. His face was an unreadable mask. That was never a good sign.

"How’s Kenn and your daughter?" Quentin asked. Pain flickered across Mateo’s face.

"Kenn was lucky," Mateo said, "Bullet lanced right through him. Managed to miss vitals and just tore up muscle. Docs plugged him up. He should be up in a week or so. Longer to get fully recuperated. Mercedes is a little more serious." There was an unspoken command in Mateo’s tone not to ask more. Mateo’s eyes flicked to the soldiers.

"Chief Warrant Officer Stahl, Mr. Cortez. Col. Allen sent us along," Chief Stahl said, coming to attention and firing off a salute, "He thought you might need the help." The three other soldiers followed their leader’s example. Mateo gave the four soldiers a long look and then nodded.

"Good, we’re going to need all of the operators we can lay our hands on," Mateo said, motioning everyone towards the waiting vehicles, "Which leads us to another surprise." A tall middle-aged man stepped out of one of the trucks. Slim’s eyes widened as he saw the weathered face and black Stetson.

"Jim, what are you doing here?" Slim asked, shocked at the man’s sudden appearance.

"I headed out here when I heard about Nigel," Jim answered, "Once I arrived, some feds rounded me up, and Mateo gave me the rundown. The feds were nice enough to provide me with some gear." Jim motioned sarcastically to the vest and web gear covering his normal jeans and cotton shirt. A 1911 was in a drop-leg holster that was mounted a little high. Jim used tactical gear, but he didn’t like it. The cowboy was much happier with his revolver and lever-action rifle.

"We can play catch-up later," Mateo said, "We’ve got a minion on the loose. Collin’s talking to the FBI. Hopefully, they’ve managed to get something. As soon as we have a target, we’re moving in." There were nods of agreement. The Zombie Strike team members and US Army soldiers loaded into the SUVs. Mateo, Quentin, and The Steve piled into the first truck. Slim opted for the second truck with Jim. The soldiers took the last truck, kicking out the FBI driver. Slim laughed at the agent’s confused face. Slim was eager to talk with Jim. He hadn’t seen the cowboy for six months. They hadn’t been close, but they fought and bled together in some nasty situations. Slim wanted to know how things were with Jim’s daughter and that lady they met back in Wyoming. Then, as soon as he sat down, all of the built-up fatigue hit him. Slim was out before the small convoy left the hangar.

Slim felt as if he’d just closed his eyes when something slammed into the truck. Adrenaline surged through him, and Slim was instantly awake. At first, he thought they’d been hit by another car. Except for the molten hole where the front passenger had been sitting. The driver was screaming in pain. The man’s suit looked like it had melted onto him. Jim was already out of the truck and moving in between stopped cars with a raised M4. Slim grabbed his bag and followed Jim.

Outside, Slim could see the frenzy. All of the cars were stopped. From the sheer number of cars, Slim guessed they were somewhere on the Beltway. The drivers were abandoning their vehicles and fleeing every which way. Below the overpass was another crowded Beltway interstate. More people were fleeing, but Slim ignored them. Standing on top of a semi was the minion. He was dressed in the black ninja costume and was waving a small rod. The end of the rod glowed with an evil red energy.

"Kill them!" the minion screamed at several hundred strong zombie horde shambling out from under the overpass. Slim stopped and stared at the minion. It was impossible, but the minion was the same height, and was about the same build. How could he have survived all those artillery rounds? How could he have made it to Washington before the team? A strong hand grabbed Slim and yanked him away. Chief Stahl roughly pushed Slim up against an estate car.

"Yeah, I know. Have to figure it out later," the chief said as he saw Slim’s stunned face. "Right now, we’re kind of in the middle of it. Get on what gear you can." All of them ducked as a car exploded and sent fragments screaming through the air. One of the soldiers wasn’t quite fast enough. A shard of fiberglass lanced into his chest. The digi-cam went dark as blood poured out of the wound. His comrades leapt into action.

"Medic!" Stahl calmly hollered. In seconds, The Steve was sliding next to the wounded soldier. Slim let out a relieved breath as he watched the medic’s hands dance over the wound. The Steve may be insane, but he was a miracle-worker in the field. Slim dug out his ZKC and ammo pouch. There wasn’t time to don the armor.

"Stahl, I need your people working the other side!" Mateo yelled, pointing to the far side of the overpass. "Get that horde cut down!" Stahl gave Mateo a thumbs-up and signaled to his soldiers to move. In seconds came the distinctive pops of M4’s. Slim ran over to his team.

"Where are the FBI agents?" he asked as scooted next to Quentin. The team was strung out behind a line of cars.

"They scampered as soon as they caught sight of the zombies," Quentin said. The big man popped up and let out a short burst. As he ducked back down, Quentin looked over at Slim. "Didn’t we kill that guy back on Skull Island?"

"To be fair, it wasn’t like we found a body," Slim said. He straightened up and took out a zombie as it tried to climb up the embankment to the overpass.

"After that much artillery?" Quentin asked, "I’d been surprised to find a body part." He joined Slim in attacking the horde.

Mateo Cortez reloaded his M4. He didn’t expect Ted to attack him directly. That was a mistake. Even after everything, Mateo kept underestimating this minion. Was it because Ted seemed so plain when they first met? Ted fired another beam from that rod. Mateo ducked as the beam slammed a car at the front of the overpass. It erupted into fire. Mateo recognized the weapon. He should. He led the team against the minions to stop them from stealing it. Mateo thought they’d destroyed it.

Something wasn’t making sense. The Rod of Fiore was capable of reducing all of them to ash. Instead of simply killing them all, Ted was just causing random damage. Or was he? The first hit was on the car in front of the convoy. Then, other car behind them. Then, the second truck. Ted was trying to corral the team. It didn’t make any sense. They had enough ammo to take out even that sizable horde Ted brought with him. The realization hit Mateo like a hammer. Ted wasn’t trying to kill them. He was delaying them, keeping them from Ted’s ultimate target. Mateo snatched the sat phone from his belt and frantically dialed Jess’s number. Even with the gunfire surrounding them, the busy signal boomed in his ear.

Zombie Strike Part 6 Chapter 54

2021 Goals

January 6, 2021 / / 1 Comment

I was kinda middling on my 2020 Goals. I did manage to keep up on the blog writing. The other writing – well, I wasn’t so successful. I got my Level 3 in Toastmasters, but then we had to quit. I don’t know when we will return to our club at this point – particularly with The Wife’s new position.

My weight? It’s been pretty bad since COVID hit. I don’t think I’ve been below 210 since March – and I’ve brushed the 230 mark. When I can’t fit into my work pants – that’s fucking bad. It isn’t helped by the fact that I’m on permanent telework.

This year is going to be dominated by The Big Move into our new house. Just the hassle of moving is going to be fun enough, but I know myself. I am a creature of habits and routines. The new house is going to require entirely new routines, and it’s going to take some time to iron them out. One of the odd things about the new place is that there isn’t a mailbox in front of the house. I need to walk about a block to get to where everyone’s mailboxes are grouped.

So, here are my 2021 goals.

  1. Weight – Get back down to goal of 200.

  2. Writing – Finish the fantasy novel

  3. Writing – Finish the third Irregulars story

  4. Blog – Keep up the four posts a week schedule

  5. Exercise – Use the eliptical at least one hour a day for at least six days of the week, and at least one hour a day while my weight is above 205.

  6. Exercise – Walk to the mailboxes after we move unless life-hazarding weather

  7. Professional Development – Improve skills with Power BI to improve my reports.

Monday Fiction – Zombie Strike – Part 6 – Chapter 52

January 4, 2021 / / 1 Comment

Skull Island, South Pacific, 25 July 2010, 0800 Hours Local: Countdown: 1 Year, 3 months, 6 days

Slim Thomas froze as he felt the slight thrumming. His fist halted Quentin and the soldiers. His eyes scanned the immediate area. The hedge-lined pathway was a straight line for about another five meters before taking a sharp right. On the other side of the right hedge was a cul-de-sac. Slim guessed the minion was hiding there.

An odd shape in the grass caught his attention. It looked like a coin. In fact it looked like a British pound coin. Slim motioned for Quentin and Chief Stahl to move up. As they joined Slim, he pointed at the coin with his weapon. Quentin frowned, but the chief just nodded. Slim popped open his bracer and waved the two men over to read his PDA.

Target behind right hedge. Suggestions? Slim tapped out on his PDA. Chief Stahl pointed to two of his soldiers. Convoluted hand signals flashed from between the chief warrant and the soldiers. The two soldiers slung their M4’s and unstrapped unfamiliar weapons from their backs. They looked like bullpup submachine guns. The two soldiers backed up to the left hedge and aimed their weapons skyward. They braced, clearly waiting for the chief’s signal. Slim felt the thrumming speed up an instant before the fireball erupted from the hedge. Slim turned away from the flash of heat and brilliant flame. Screams of pain and terror filled the air. Slim looked back to see a burnt hole where the two soldiers were standing. Another two soldiers were screaming as they grasped at flesh that looked like melted wax. Slim swallowed the sudden urge to vomit.

The minion dropped into their midst. Slim saw the blue flame flicker in his hand. Instinctively, he snapped off the shot. The minion let out a yelp of pain as the lighter was torn out of his hand. Seeing an opening in the minion’s shield, Quentin and Chief Stahl opened fire. The bullets stopped in mid-air as they hit the minion’s shield. Slim really hated smart minions, especially smart and fast minions.

"All of you are getting too good," the minion snarled in anger. The minion flicked his wrist. The coin sailed over them and landed lightly in the minion’s hand. He almost looked disappointed as he stared briefly at the coin. Like it failed to fulfill its destiny. Chief Stahl snapped off another burst. The minion glared indignantly at the chief warrant as the bullets smacked harmlessly against the shield. The minion raised his hand menacingly at Chief Stahl. The soldier unflinchingly kept his M4 trained on the minion. Then, the unit’s machine gun opened up. The burst of gunfire caught the minion by surprise. The bullets stopped a good yard from the minion, but the strain was evident. The minion focused intensely on the gunner. Slim and Quentin opened up with their weapons. The minion’s head snapped towards them as their bullets started impacting the shield. Screaming in frustration, the minion backed up through the still burning hole into the cul-de-sac.

Slim, Quentin and the SAW gunner poured fire into the cul-de-sac. The hedge dissolved as round after round tore through it. The chief fired a couple of bursts, but stopped. He plucked a grenade from his web gear. Chief Stahl pulled the pin, released the spoon, and held the grenade in his hand. His mouthed the numbers as he counted off. On three, the grenade sailed over the hedge. The four men dropped to the ground. Slim felt the grenade explode, but the sound was muted. Chief Stahl was up and moving to the hole in the hedge. Slim leapt up and followed the soldier, but stopped as the chief just stood at the opening. Slim walked up next to Chief Stahl. The minion was on the ground, bleeding from a dozen ragged holes. He writhed in pain, but stopped as he caught sight of Slim and Chief Stahl standing at the edge of the invisible barrier. The minion let out a wet sounding laugh. Slim felt an uncomfortable chill run down his spine. If Chief Stahl felt anything, he didn’t show it.

"By the flayed one himself, I didn’t expect that," the minion croaked. He spat a mouthful of blood. His eyes bore into Stahl while a sincere smile spread across his face. "How did you figure it out?"

"Your little coin didn’t come straight to you," Stahl said flatly, "Flew up over the barrier."

"Well, why don’t you jump over my little shield and come get me?" the minion taunted.

"I saw what you did to the Predator," Stahl said, "We’ll just wait ’til you lose consciousness from blood loss, and then come get you. You killed two of my men, and seriously hurt another couple. I can be patient. It’s going to be amusing to watch as you spill your guts to our intel people." Stahl’s flat tone shifted into a controlled rage.

"Long wait soldier boy," the minion said, "I am gifted with the Flayed One’s own power. These wounds will heal up before I’m in any danger. Then I’ll finish you off."

"I think you’re bluffing," Chief Stahl replied.

"Ask the hunter standing next to you. They’ve seen what the Champions of Truth can do. And I’m not one of the weak ones." Stahl frowned and yanked Slim out of the minion’s sight. The minion laughed as the two men walked away.

"He’s not bluffing," Slim said.

"I know," Stahl said, walking over to the SAW gunner. "Evacuate Dwayne and Bill. We can use that hole." Stahl pointed to the smoking hole where his two soldiers had been killed.

"Already took care of it," the soldier replied. As if on cue, an MRAP backed up to the hole. Soldiers spilled out of the armored vehicle and swarmed over the two burned soldiers. Satisfied his soldiers were being cared for, Stahl knelt down. For a moment, Slim thought the soldier was praying. Then, he saw the chief was burying something.

"Slim, you and Quentin may want to get in the truck," Stahl said, motioning to the MRAP.

"I thought we were going to wait for his shield to drop so that we could capture him," Slim said, his eyebrow arching.

"I’m not that stupid. That one’s too powerful," Stahl said quietly. "As soon as we’re clear, that one’s going to get a taste of eight inch artillery. See him try and shoot those shells out of the sky." Slim nodded reluctantly and followed his teammate into the armored truck. The vehicle roared out of the maze. Mere seconds later, Slim heard the distant thunder. Moments later, he watched as the maze was obliterated as the artillery shells rained down.

Washington DC, 26 July 2010, 2345 Hours Local: Countdown: 1 Year, 3 months, 5 days

Mateo Cortez froze in shock at seeing Collin DuBois’ dirty face. The sudden surge of emotions flooded him, and he couldn’t fight it. It was just too much. Then, his rage cut through the internal storm. Collin wasn’t his friend and trusted mentor. Mateo jerked the carbine up. Collin needed to die for his betrayal. Collin saw the shift in Mateo’s eyes and was already moving before Mateo started to raise his weapon. Collin wrenched the carbine out Mateo’s hands. It clattered to the floor as Collin slid behind Mateo. In a few blindingly fast moves, Collin restrained his former team leader. Mateo struggled, but quickly recognized the hold. He wasn’t going to break it, and trying was just going to end up with Mateo dislocating his shoulder again.

The room was suddenly bathed in the brilliant white light of several weapon-mounted flashlights. Collin stepped back and crouched behind Mateo. Agent Tredegar stood in the center of a half-dozen of SWAT agents. Tredegar was bleeding from several places, but he didn’t seem to notice. He kept his pistol at the low ready.

"Collin DuBois, I am Special Agent Tredegar," the FBI agent shouted, "We have you surrounded. Surrender now and we can help you."

"Don’t bloody think so, mate," Collin shot back, "Only Mattie here can help me. Why don’t you bugger off so we can get to work?"

"I’m going to kill you," Mateo seethed. He managed to crane his head around to glimpse Collin.

"Mattie, it’s not what you think, but I can’t talk with the FBI about," Collin replied under his breath. Mateo sensed Collin was telling him the truth, and part of him wanted to believe Collin. Then the image of Mercedes in the hospital flashed through his mind. The cold rage swept away any remnants of compassion.

"Listen, Collin, we want to stop the Truth as much as you do," Tredegar said, his commanding tone melting into an understanding one. Tredegar lowered his pistol. "You wouldn’t have sent Mateo that recording if you weren’t trying to stop the Truth. Let us help you."

"Listen mate, I’ve read the manual too. I was doing the hostage rescue thing when you were just figuring out that girls smelled nice. We both know what’s going to happen once I let you take me. We don’t have time for that." Mateo looked at Tredegar. He could tell Tredegar believed Collin. Tredegar was weakening as his need to stop the Truth clashed with his need to bring in Collin. Mateo made his decision. The hold Collin had Mateo in was unbreakable. Unless you were willing to go through a lot of pain. Mateo took a deep breath. Collin realized what was happening an instant too late. The familiar pain shot through Mateo as he wrenched out of Collin’s grip. He felt his shoulder pop as he fell to the floor. Collin released him just before he did some permanent damage.

The FBI agents dog piled Collin. None were willing to take the slightest chance with someone they knew to be extremely dangerous. Mateo met Collin’s eyes as more people swarmed into the house. The look of understanding and sorrow bothered Mateo. He didn’t know why. As the FBI led the manacled Collin out of the house, Mateo dreaded he’d made the wrong choice.

Zombie Strike Part 6 Chapter 53

Good bye 2020

December 31, 2020 / / 1 Comment

This year has been a roller-coaster for the Ward household. I won’t rehash the crazy politics or the plague. Everyone’s been dealing with that – and many people have had a much harder time than The Wife and I had. A lot of that was good planning, but there was also a lot of just luck.

For us, the roller coaster really started in March, but not for the reason that you might think. In March, we sold my Tampa house. The negotiations started back in December, but we finally closed at the beginning of March. Yay, we freed up a bunch of cash! Plus we got some cash influxes from the sale. Some of that was used to buy two new handguns (a Ruger SR1911 Commander and a Steyr L9A1). Some of that was used to buy The Wife a Cricut Maker. Some of that was used to pay down our debts. A good deal was needed when the world went insane with COVID. Both The Wife and I were thrown into full time telework. We used some of the funds to upgrade the home office, since we would both be using it. MArch was also the month we pulled the plug on our planned trip to go out west so that The Wife and I could meet each other’s family out that way.

April and May went by in the blink of an eye as The Wife and I adjusted to our new routines. My prepper instincts meant we were never in danger of being out of toilet paper or other essentials. In fact, we were able to spare some to one of our neighbors. That’s the nice thing about prepping. You can help those in need. Our Toastmasters club transitioned to Zoom.

Then came June. The Wife was talking with one of her friends, and it came up that the friend’s daughter was looking for a car. When the friend mentioned the daughter was looking for something like a Hyundai Elantra, The Wife joked that she could sell the daughter hers. Yeah, it turned out to be not so much a joke, and we ended up selling the car. There was some discussion if we could be a one-car family, but her job was talking about bringing people back in July. Which we could technically do, but there was the unknown as to what my job would do. So, we started looking for a new vehicle. Or more to the point, we started looking for a new-to-us vehicle. I convinced The Wife to forgo a brand-new vehicle and at least see what we could get in the used market. She converted when she realized that for the cost of a bare-bones new SUV, she could get a fully-loaded three-year-old SUV. She loves her “new” vehicle.

July was a month of cancellations as we were forced to cancel our birthday plans, and our anniversary plans. The Wife’s job pushed back her return to the office. There was also a shake-up at her job and at the vet office we used. In the writing world, we would say that July was a month of foreshadowing.

August started the roller coaster into a series of ups and downs in very rapid succession. It started on a high note with my brother-in-law getting married. Due to COVID, it was a small ceremony, and many of the attendants were there virtually. Also, The Wife got dragged in as the officiant because the initial officiant backed out citing plague concerns. Still, a very high note for what had already been a kind of fucked up year. Then the down. We finally got fed up with our vet practice and transferred care to a new place where one of our favorite vet techs started working. Over the next six weeks, the mother-in-law lost two cats and we lost our two oldest cats. Some of it was just that they were old cats, but there were some issues that our previous vet practice missed completely. There was a high point among all this loss. At the end of August, we welcomed my new niece (technically great niece) to the world.

Now we turn to September. The Wife and I bought a new house. Well, technically we bought a house that was being built. We’d been looking since before the Tampa house sold back in March. We found a house in Bradenton that we both liked, but we wouldn’t be able to move/purchase until spring of 2021. Plus, the house was over a hundred years old (built in 1911!), and we had some concerns. Then we went into one of the new developments springing up in our area. One of the models just spoke to us. We talked it over, and signed the contract for a new place that will complete in spring of 2021. The high point was when we maxed the options, looked at our budget, and realized we could afford it. Unfortunately, with the sudden need to stockpile cash, we made the hard decision to not renew our Toastmasters membership. That was a difficult decision.

October we finished the refi on our current place. The plan is to rent this place to the brother-in-law and his wife, so we wanted a lower payment and consolidate the first and second mortgages. This turned out to be of more import as the refi also smoothed over a hiccup with the approval process for the mortgage for the new house. Yeah, that was a fun phone call with us flipping through refinance mortgage documents to verify details. By the end of October, everything was seemingly smooth.

First week of November. Everyone was focused on the election. The Wife and I had something else to focus on. She was informed that her position was eliminated. The shakeup that began in July had claimed her position, and that of her entire section. No chance to go to another department in the company, just you are out on the street after twenty years of service. Make an appointment to come get your stuff from your desk. Yeah, and we had a call with the mortgage company for the new house a half-hour after that call. So, November was a month of sending out applications, resumes, going on interviews, and hoping that we wouldn’t have to walk away from the new house. The day before Thanksgiving, The Wife received an offer. It was a pay cut, but not as bad as we hoped. Plus there were some fringe benefits.

December had The Wife going back to the office. Except it was her new office. She has a commute about as long as I did before they sent us out on telework. After seven months of having her in the home office, it was odd to be the only one home all day. Plus, with her new commute, I’m having to do all the afternoon chores. All sorts of changes.

I won’t say that 2020 was the worst year for the Ward family. Too many good things happened. I will say that I’m hoping 2021 won’t be as full of changes. If the move is the only big change next year, I’ll take it.

Buying Your Speech for $2K

December 30, 2020 / / 0 Comments

According to Reason, Senator Mitch McConnell is willing to go along with $2,000 checks for everyone – as long as he can backdoor changes to Section 230.

Section 230 has taken a lot of heat from both sides of the aisle. The left thinks it allows the amplification of hate speech, while the right asserts it allows “Big Tech” to silence them. They’re both wrong. Section 230 simply doesn’t hold websites liable for comments made on them by other parties. Removing the Section 230 protections will dampen free speech on the internet. It will silence radicals on both sides. I doubt even cat pictures will be safe.