Next Flight Out
Take notes. After I put my kids on the flight out of America, and all the crying had slightly ebbed, I had to sit in the airport for about an hour because I could not get up. I knew I had done the right thing. America is just not a place to raise kids. Life is giving them whip lash. This piece has little to do with keeping your papers organized. It’s insulting that Americans would even think that. It’s denial, folks. You do not know how to raise children, and you are leaving them with a toxic planet. Because you do not care. I am autistic and do not understand many of the rules I follow every day. I avoid the police because they will kill me as they are so easily threatened. I have never had so much as a parking ticket. America will not help in protecting my children. If we are going to slide into a civil war, and I think we are doing exactly that, I don’t want my children anywhere near the Great American War Machine that focuses on identity. Our public policy is a pornography. Doing away with the Department of Education, or hobbling it, is a great plan to keep the marginalized in their place. Will there still be schools. Or indoctrination centers. The America you fear is coming at you like a trainwreck. I want my kids off the tracks, off the grids, I have already taught them how to fight. I want them educated. I want them to know how hatred runs the world of men. I want them to be able to recognize the power of authority, and to always sit where you can see the door.