We spent the beginning of lunch with the Governor of Minnesota. It had been an interesting morning filled with angry white women and former Vice Presidential candidates. The discussion was animated ad filled with the imagery of N utomobilie being put into “drive” and striking a Federal Law Enforcement officer.

As a group, we took a short poll about taking up arms against people who are armed and empowered to take action against people who do so. Careful tabulation suggested we thought people should keep their attention on people urging something that looks a lot like school violence.

And ignore it.

Vic leaned forward in his chair. “In my hometown of Detroit we had one of these things go on for a week or more with the 82nd Airborne in town to tell us to shut up and sit down. We learned then to obey the instructions. If that angry woman had learned any lessons, that would have been one that could have saved her life.”

Splash smiled and then frowned.”That is why I hitchhiked from Detroit down to the 1971 Mayday demonstration here in Washington. There was violence and the cops were using RFK Stadium to house people awaiting processing after arrest. I tried to be polite and not p*** anyone off. Particularly armed angry women.”

Which made us sigh for the woman who was placed in the position in which a Federal Officer who may be the one who was dragged 300 feet in a similar incident last month apparently feel he did not want another 34 stitches for enforcing the law of the land. The 37-year old angry woman apparently thought the cop should have been more considerate. Two or three shots were fired and the angry woman is no longer angry though no longer upset enough to try to run over a cop in her SUV.

The male segment of the Boomer Niche at the Conference Table had been through sessions like this when they wore pads to protect their extremities and helmets on their heads. Yesterday, they had lasted long after the skies had gone dark and it looked like the waxing moonrise was going to be obscured by clouds. Just darker and no longer pretending the entire world fits neatly in a quarter-hour walk. Or a 13-hour jet ride above the waves. They knew that Governor from years of playing in pads for a series of older angry white men who attempted to foist their own shortfalls on young men unable to situationally protest.

Melissa knew enough to stay away from the topic. “Overnight reporting described a precision U.S. operation over Caracas,” she said carefully. “No spectacle. No collateral damage. One aircraft took a hit and flew home. No U.S. casualties reported.”

Eddie leaned forward. “And then what?”

“That’s the part no one ever really knows,” Melissa said. “The guilty usually sort themselves out. The rest is process.”

“Fire Horse energy,” Miles said, referencing Chinese Zodiac terms for the new year. “Motion without warning. Heat without apology.”

Outside the conference room windows, Arlington went about its morning routines—coffee lines, dog walkers, commuters counting minutes. The county still worked. The scale still held.

But the Pacific was restless.

If China decides to strike Taiwan—not to conquer it outright, but to demonstrate that America is no longer the uncontested number one—that will not be a regional story. It will be a structural one. A signal flare, not a battle plan.

And if that moment comes, 15-Minute County ends.

Not because the county disappears—but because the frame no longer holds.

That could be the start of a new book, you know?

Copyright © 2026 Vic Socotra

www.vicsocotra.com