Saturday, August 31, 2013

A Baseball Story from Perry Glasgow

I am not a sports person. It's very difficult to write about sports in such a way as to pique my interest. For one sport, baseball, there are only three writers who can get me interested. They are Ring Lardner, H. Allen Smith, and Perry Glasgow, all of whom realize that baseball is, or can be, a metaphor for, or example of, the meaning of life, as lesser sports, like football or basketball or curling can't. On his "Bases Are Loaded" blog, the latter writes:

A Game of Catch

In the mystic mists of my mind, baseball diamonds of summers past echo the sounds of long ago. A place where the baseball splits the humid Hoosier air, and voices of young men revel in the heat of summer. The pop of cowhide into leather is an announcement that a game of catch is underway.

Boys tend to remember a game of catch with their fathers, but for me it conjures memories of countless hours tossing a ball back and forth with my brother. Despite our sibling rivalry that exists to this day, I look upon those days with fondness. We were once told that if one of us caught a cold the other would catch it too.

I came to bat against him once with the bases loaded and nobody out. I dug into the batter’s box like the Mighty Casey, and awaited his first pitch. A high heater under my chin sent my backside into the dirt. As I dusted myself off I looked out at the mound – at my brother standing with a huge grin on his face.

In 1980, my brother was shot during an attempted robbery. I rushed home from my base in Germany to the naval hospital in OrlandoFlorida where he was stationed. He was in poor shape when I arrived. I didn’t know what to say. I was stunned by his condition. I told him: “Don’t worry - only the good die young.” He started laughing despite the pain and then proceeded to get the nurse to kick me out of the ward. 

A couple of weeks later he was out of the hospital recovering at home. My leave was almost up, and he stepped into the living room with both of our gloves, and a ball. We could not toss it far because of his injuries, but I knew everything was going to be fine.

It has been thirty years since our last game of catch. I sometimes close my eyes and hear our barbs at one another as we toss the baseball. As brothers we’re very competitive, but I wouldn’t trade those hours of tossing a baseball that built a bond lasting a lifetime. 

Thank a Veteran

This one you have to think about for a minute or two, but then it sure makes sense!

Friday, August 30, 2013

The Frogs Die In Earnest*

I never thought I'd be agreeing with the British Parliament, but their decision to stay out of the mess in Syria is shockingly rational. I repeat my stance — There are very few governments in the world, and none in the Middle East, that don't deserve to be overthrown, but in most cases the people of those sad countries certainly don't deserve the death and misery that would result from such an overthrow.  Especially considering that such governments are almost always replaced by government that also deserve to be overthrown, so the beat goes on.

A lot of people have pointed out involvement in Syria is completely contrary to American interests, and nobody's pointed out any flaw in that logic. The thing is, of course, that such involvement might well be good for Obama's interests. He seems to think so, anyway.  It'll make him look like a tough guy, or so goes the theory.  A better theory is expressed over at Justnotsaid:

All for the sake of Obama's credibility

By clearly outlining what would compel us to enter into the Syrian conflict, Barack Obama effectively turned himself into Robert Conrad saying, "I dare you to knock this battery off my shoulder. C'mon, I dare you," in those old battery ads.

He became Clint Eastwood saying, "Make my day."

He morphed into George W. Bush (his own personal hero) saying to the Taliban, "Bring it on."

This may not be the way Obama sees himself, but it's who he is, for now. His basic self image, of course, is of a guy so charismatic that other world leaders will by swayed by his wonderful powers of oratory.

But now that soaring oratory ("a red line for us is we start seeing a whole bunch of chemical weapons moving around or being utilized,”) has painted him into a corner.

In fairness to Obama, his original intent was not to look macho. He was asked what it would take to get the US involved in Syria, and he gave an off the cuff answer which was intended to make it sound as if he cared about Syrian civilians.

We have no vital interests in Syria, and the public has no appetite for another Mideast incursion. But Barack wants to maintain his street cred, so here we go.

Again. The US will spend millions of dollars, and Syrians will die.

Of course, John McCain and the rest of the War Axis aren't framing the decision this way. They're talking about how it's the country'scredibility and standing which are at risk. But Obama's motivation is a little different. See, once you've played Dirty Harry, you can't back down, or you look silly. And weak.

But does anyone really think that launching a few Tomahawks will make Obama look like a strong, decisive leader? Or will people now be even more inclined to see him as a guy who shouldn't talk without the aid of a Teleprompter?

The unnamed U.S. official who spoke to the L.A. Times earlier this week seemed to have gotten right to the core of Obama's motive: the White House, he said, was probing a strike with a level of intensity “just muscular enough not to get mocked.”

So, now we get to see Barack flex his muscles.

Perhaps, when he announces the strike on national television, they can play Jim Croce's hit, You Don't Mess Around with Jim, in the background:

Yeah you don't tug on Superman's cape 
You don't spit into the wind 
You don't pull the mask off the old Lone Ranger 
And you don't mess around with Slim

Of course, given that Obama spent a fair amount of time in the Windy City, perhaps Croce's other hit, Bad Bad Leroy Brown might be even more appropriate:

Well the south side of Chicago
Is the baddest part of town
And if you go down there
You better just beware
Of a man name of Leroy Brown

Yep, you don't mess around with Big Bad Barack Obama.

*No, this is not a reference to France.  It is a reference to Bion of Borysthenes, who wrote:  "Though boys throw stones at frogs in sport, yet the frogs do not die in sport but in earnest."

John Cleese or Impostor? — You decide.

Found on the net.  I have no idea if it's bogus or not, but it does have a Pythonian tone to it.



The English are feeling the pinch in relation to recent events in Syria and have therefore raised their security level from "Miffed" to "Peeved." Soon, though, security levels may be raised yet again to "Irritated" or even "A Bit Cross." The English have not been "A Bit Cross" since the blitz in 1940 when tea supplies nearly ran out. Terrorists have been re-categorized from "Tiresome" to "A Bloody Nuisance." The last time the British issued a "Bloody Nuisance" warning level was in 1588, when threatened by the Spanish Armada.

The Scots have raised their threat level from "Pissed Off" to "Let's get the Bastards." They don't have any other levels. This is the reason they have been used on the front line of the British army for the last 300 years.

The French government announced yesterday that it has raised its terror alert level from "Run" to "Hide." The only two higher levels in France are "Collaborate" and "Surrender." The rise was precipitated by a recent fire that destroyed France 's white flag factory, effectively paralyzing the country's military capability.

Italy has increased the alert level from "Shout Loudly and Excitedly" to "Elaborate Military Posturing." Two more levels remain: "Ineffective Combat Operations" and "Change Sides."

The Germans have increased their alert state from "Disdainful Arrogance" to "Dress in Uniform and Sing Marching Songs." They also have two higher levels: "Invade a Neighbour" and "Lose."

Belgians, on the other hand, are all on holiday as usual; the only threat they are worried about is NATO pulling out of Brussels ..

The Spanish are all excited to see their new submarines ready to deploy. These beautifully designed subs have glass bottoms so the new Spanish navy can get a really good look at the old Spanish navy.

Australia, meanwhile, has raised its security level from "No worries" to "She'll be right, Mate." Two more escalation levels remain: "Crikey! I think we'll need to cancel the barbie this weekend!" and "The barbie is cancelled." So far no situation has ever warranted use of the last final escalation level.

John Cleese ,
British writer, actor and tall person

And as a final thought - Greece is collapsing, the Iranians are getting aggressive, and Rome is in disarray. Welcome back to 430 BC.

Life is too short...

Thursday, August 29, 2013

Alert! Adult Joke Here. You Have Been Warned!

Thanks to Ed Turner III for this one:

Monica Lewinsky turns 40
Can you believe it?

It seems like only yesterday, she was crawling around the White House
on her hands and knees, putting everything in her mouth.

They grow up so fast, don't they?

Uncleftish Beholding

For most of its being, mankind did not know what things are made
of, but could only guess. With the growth of worldken, we began
to learn, and today we have a beholding of stuff and work that
watching bears out, both in the workstead and in daily life.

The underlying kinds of stuff are the *firststuffs*, which link
together in sundry ways to give rise to the rest. Formerly we
knew of ninety-two firststuffs, from waterstuff, the lightest and
barest, to ymirstuff, the heaviest. Now we have made more, such
as aegirstuff and helstuff.

The firststuffs have their being as motes called *unclefts*.
These are mightly small; one seedweight of waterstuff holds a
tale of them like unto two followed by twenty-two naughts. Most
unclefts link together to make what are called *bulkbits*. Thus,
the waterstuff bulkbit bestands of two waterstuff unclefts, the
sourstuff bulkbit of two sourstuff unclefts, and so on. (Some
kinds, such as sunstuff, keep alone; others, such as iron, cling
together in ices when in the fast standing; and there are yet
more yokeways.) When unlike clefts link in a bulkbit, they make
*bindings*. Thus, water is a binding of two waterstuff unclefts
with one sourstuff uncleft, while a bulkbit of one of the
forestuffs making up flesh may have a thousand thousand or more
unclefts of these two firststuffs together with coalstuff and
At first is was thought that the uncleft was a hard thing that could be split no further; hence the name. Now we know it is made up of lesser motes. There is a heavy *kernel* with a forward bernstonish lading, and around it one or more light motes with backward ladings. The least uncleft is that of ordinary waterstuff. Its kernel is a lone forwardladen mote called a *firstbit*. Outside it is a backwardladen mote called a *bernstonebit*. The firstbit has a heaviness about 1840-fold that of the bernstonebit. Early worldken folk thought bernstonebits swing around the kernel like the earth around the sun, but now we understand they are more like waves or clouds. In all other unclefts are found other motes as well, about as heavy as the firstbit but with no lading, known as *neitherbits*. We know a kind of waterstuff with one neitherbit in the kernel along with the firstbit; another kind has two neitherbits. Both kinds are seldom. The next greatest firststuff is sunstuff, which has two firstbits and two bernstonebits. The everyday sort also has two neitherbits in the kernel. If there are more or less, the uncleft will soon break asunder. More about this later. The third firststuff is stonestuff, with three firstbits, three bernstonebits, and its own share of neitherbits. And so it goes, on through such everyday stuffs as coalstuff (six firstbits) or iron (26) to ones more lately found. Ymirstuff (92) was the last until men began to make some higher still.
It is the bernstonebits that link, and so their tale fastsets how
a firststuff behaves and what kinds of bulkbits it can help make. The worldken of this behaving, in all its manifold ways, is called *minglingken*. Minglingers have found that as the uncleftish tale of the firststuffs (that is, the tale of firststuffs in their kernels) waxes, after a while they begin to show ownships not unlike those of others that went before them. So, for a showdeal, stonestuff (3), glasswortstuff (11), potashstuff (19), redstuff (37), and bluegraystuff (55) can each link with only one uncleft of waterstuff, while coalstuff (6), flintstuff (14), germanstuff (22), tin (50), and lead (82) can each link with four. This is readily seen when all are set forth in what is called the *roundaround board of the firststuffs*.
When an uncleft or a bulkbit wins one or more bernstonebits above its own, it takes on a backward lading. When it loses one or more, it takes on a forward lading. Such a mote is called a *farer*, for that the drag between unlike ladings flits it. When bernstonebits flit by themselves, it may be as a bolt of lightning, a spark off some faststanding chunk, or the everyday flow of bernstoneness through wires. Coming back to the uncleft itself, the heavier it is, the more neitherbits as well as firstbits in its kernel. Indeed, soon the tale of neitherbits is the greater. Unclefts with the same tale of firstbits but unlike tales of neitherbits are called *samesteads*. Thus, everyday sourstuff has eight neitherbits with its eight firstbits, but there are also kinds with five, six, seven, nine, ten, and eleven neitherbits. A samestead is known by the tale of both kernel motes, so that we have sourstuff-13, sourstuff-14, and so on, with sourstuff-16 being by far the most found. Having the same number of bernstonebits, the samesteads of a firststuff behave almost alike minglingly. They do show some unlikenesses, outstandingly among the heavier ones, and these can be worked to sunder samesteads from each other. Most samesteads of every firststuff are unabiding. Their kernels break up, each at its own speed. This speed is written as the *half-life*, which is how long it takes half of any deal of the samestead thus to shift itself. The doing is known as *lightrotting*. It may happen fast or slowly, and in any of sundry ways, offhanging on the makeup of the kernel. A kernel may spit out two firstbits with two neitherbits, that is, a sunstuff kernel, thus leaping two steads back in the roundaround board and four weights back in heaviness. It may give off a bernstonebit from a neitherbit, which thereby becomes a firstbit and thrusts the uncleft one stead up in the board while keeping the same weight. It may give off a *forwardbit*, which is a mote with the same weight as a bernstonebit but a forward lading, and thereby spring one stead down in the board while keeping the same weight. Often, too, a mote is given off with neither lading nor heaviness, called the *weeneitherbit*. In much lightrotting, a mote of light with most short wavelength comes out as well.
For although light oftenest behaves as a wave, it can be looked on as a mote, the *lightbit*. We have already said by the way that a mote of stuff can behave not only as a chunk, but as a wave. Down among the unclefts, things do not happen in steady flowings, but in leaps between bestandings that are forbidden. The knowledge-hunt of this is called *lump beholding*. Nor are stuff and work unakin. Rather, they are groundwise the same, and one can be shifted into the other. The kinship between them is that work is like unto weight manifolded by the fourside of the haste of light. By shooting motes into kernels, worldken folk have shifted samesteads of one firststuff into samesteads of another. Thus did they make ymirstuff into aegirstuff and helstuff, and they have afterward gone beyond these. The heavier firststuffs are all highly lightrottish and therefore are not found in the greenworld. Some of the higher samesteads are *splitly*. That is, when a neitherbit strikes the kernel of one, as for a showdeal ymirstuff-235, it bursts into lesser kernels and free neitherbits; the latter can then split more ymirstuff-235. When this happens, weight shifts into work. It is not much of the whole, but nevertheless it is awesome. With enough strength, lightweight unclefts can be made to togethermelt. In the sun, through a row of strikings and lightrottings, four unclefts of waterstuff in this wise become one of sunstuff. Again some weight is lost as work, and again this is greatly big when set beside the work gotten from a minglingish doing such as fire. Today we wield both kind of uncleftish doings in weapons, and kernelish splitting gives us heat and bernstoneness. We hope to do likewise with togethermelting, which would yield an unhemmed wellspring of work for mankindish goodgain. Soothly we live in mighty years!

For those of you who know this piece, it's a pleasant encounter with an old friend. If it's new to you, I hope you've tried to figure it out as an intriguing puzzle. The explanation is HERE.

Not-So-Bad Vlad

Yeah, I miss him.  Oh, that's Vlad the Impaler in the illustration, and there's a lot of confusion about him, what with him being conflated with the Bela Lugosi-type vampire, partly due to Bram Stoker using the name "Dracula."  Vlad's patronymic was "Dracula," which means "dragon." You can read all about him HERE, but a good summary is that he was a champion of Christianity against the Ottoman Muslims, and he got his reputation as an impaler by doing just that, to heaps of Turks. When you fight Turks, you kinda have to be mean and cruel, or you'll lose, and really, really wish you hadn't. So maybe Vlad's not so bad after all. Today's European politicians don't impale Muslims.  On the contrary, they invite them to move in and impale us. Is that better or worse? Anyhow, now there's a book out about him that looks worth a read.  Review starts thus:

Kate Paulk’s “Impaler” — A Must-Read, Superlative, Tour de Force

Kate Paulk’s IMPALER  is a seriously different way to look at Vlad the Impaler.  Historically, Prince (later King) Vlad has always been drawn as a madman and berserker, with no redeeming qualities whatsoever.  However, as Paulk has ably shown here, no one would’ve followed Vlad Draculea (Paulk’s transliteration, to avoid any possible confusion with Bram Stoker’s DRACULA) if he didn’t have good qualities — and in this version of Vlad’s story, Vlad shows many outstanding qualities including love, loyalty, friendship, sacrifice, and much more.  While this is a historical with some fantasy — and a bit of an alternate history at that, which I’ll get to in a bit — the bones of this novel rest squarely on Paulk’s strong historicity and excellent understanding of what we’d now call realpolitik.
The time is 1476.  Vlad Draculea has started to re-take Wallachia for the third time (first was as a child, second under the sponsorship of Prince Matthias Corvinus of Hungary) and has two hundred men given to him by one of his best friends, Prince Stephen of Moldavia.  With luck as well as skill, Vlad re-takes possession of Wallachia and promises to do better than the first time he’d ruled it as an adult (approximately 1456 to 1462) when he’d murdered many of his sitting boyars (noblemen, equivalent to earls, counts and dukes, dependent on how much territory any given boyar had) and had ruled by the force of his will along with what he’d then felt was the quickest and easiest weapon: terror.
Note that Vlad’s nickname of “Tepes” was given after his death, though the Turks often called him “the Impaler Prince” due to his method of execution.  Vlad hated the Turks, who were Muslim, and often used stakes to impale his enemies, living or dead.  (To insult the Muslims, who, in historical context, Paulk accurately calls “Mohammedans,” Vlad would have the stakes coated in pig fat as the Muslims believed that touching anything to do with pork would defile them, soiling them to the point they could not go to Heaven.)  Vlad was a devout Christian to his death and his faith, along with his torturous path to anything approaching what he believed was redemption, is described exceptionally well here by Paulk.   (That Vlad impaled his enemies is unquestioned, but why he did so has really never been explained except by sheer cruelty, which Paulk shows may well not be the most accurate motivation.  The fact that everyone tended to do this at this time in war against whomever whatever side felt were infidels tends to go by the boards.)
(Read the rest HERE.)

High School Blues

I think high school must be more fun in Japan. It sure LOOKS like more fun.

I probably don't think about high school as much as most people do.  I'm a thousand miles away from where I went to school, and I've done heaps of more memorable stuff since.  And even when I was in high school I had my mind on other things, so I really don't remember very much.  I didn't particularly like it.  That's the age at which, if you haven't already, you realize that a lot of teachers don't really know what they're doing, and you often know things about the subjects they teach that they don't themselves. Oh, I know I learned some things, but mostly about math and science.  Everything else was pretty much a wash. I'm sure I learned more at the library.

And I didn't have fun. Oh, I had fun, but not in the context of school. I wasn't into the sports or clubs, which are 90% of the fun possibilities, so most of my fun was freelance, as it still is. Bob Wallace went to high school, too, and it creeped him out.  Reading what he says, I find memories coming back, and it creeps me out, too. This is from his superb blog at

Post Traumatic School Disorder

I have only one recurring nightmare, which I have about once a year, and have had since I graduated high school.

It is the last day of my senior year, and I suddenly realize there is a required class that I have not been to all year. Unless I take the final and pass it, I will have to go another year, while all my friends are away at college. I will be 18 years old, stuck for another year with a class of 17-year-olds. It gives me the exact same feeling as being a high school senior and being returned to first grade. "You have to repeat everything from first grade to high'll be 30 when you finally graduate high school." It's like being an adult and forced to sit at the kiddie table all your life during Thanksgiving.

Usually, I can't find the class. Space and time are distorted. New hallways appear; when I turn around the ones behind me are gone. I feel like some of Lovecraft's Elder Gods are in charge of the universe, and have especially targeted me for torment. I'm in a panic. The layout of the school is different. I'm disoriented, and spend what feels like hour after strange hour looking for the class. Sometimes I do find it. I don't recognize the teacher or any of the students. They look at me like I have waving antennae sprouting from my head. The test makes no sense. The teacher is usually a pudgy spinster with a faded sack-like dress and cat's-eye glasses. She looks just like Miss Wormwood in the comic strip, “Calvin and Hobbes,” or any of the women in “The Far Side.” The test appears to be Corfu, or worse, math (and I can’t even make out the numbers). I always end up failing and am condemned to another year in high school.

Someday, I'm sure I'll see the name on the building, and it will read, "HORROR HIGH" (it did not surprise me at all when I discovered there is a satirical movie called Return to Horror High). My teacher will probably ultimately be dressed like the Devil – horns and a red suit, like John Candy in Planes, Trains and Automobiles, (probably with the
cat’s-eye glasses) and when I beg desperately for help he will give me an evil BWAHAHAHAHA! I fully expect to turn around and find there is no exit from the classroom – the door will be bricked up, like what happened in The Matrix.
Occasionally, I wake up, and am so disoriented I've gone to the front door, opened it and stuck my head outside, because I feel like I'm suffocating. I tell people I have Post-Traumatic School Disorder. I should sue someone.

Some of my friends have the almost the exact same nightmare. How can that be? Is there a Nightmare Factory somewhere cranking out the same nightmares, and parceling them out when we're asleep? I don't have nightmares about college, or any job I've had. It's always the last day of high school. I'll bet I could write a book, call it The Last Day of High School, and many people would buy it for the title alone.
That's what public high school did to me and some of my friends. It has given us permanent nightmares – literally, a mild version of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. Old soldiers may twitch when they hear firecrackers; I cringe whenever I hear a fire alarm bell.

I did have some great times in high school, but it was always on weekends. School itself was a sentence to be served – sit, march, sit, march, sit, march, walk on the right side of the staircase. We even had an Up staircase, and a Down one, just like in Bel Kaufman's book about school, Up the Down Staircase. I was bored silly and sometimes fell asleep in class. It's a feat to fall asleep sitting up, but I managed it. Some other kids managed it, too. Some couldn't quite pull it off with panache, and instead looked like the almost-passed-out kids in Ferris Bueller's Day Off, when Mr. Monotone himself (Ben Stein) was unwittingly torturing them with his lecture.

If I had the power (or a magic wand), I would close down every public school today, within the next nanosecond, refund all the tax money to the parents, and let them educate their children any way they wanted. (I can hear the dimbulb socialist NEA types now: "Oh no! They'll teach them religion!") I tell people I would tear the schools down and salt the ground, then pepper the teachers because so many of them are bland, but I'm joking. Really, I am. Honest.
From what I've been able to gather, the sit-march-sit structure of the public schools was originally to train students into being obedient little automatons for corporate business. A three-month summer vacation was intended for students to help with the harvest.

Talk about being over 100 years behind the times. Three months off for harvest? When's the last time that was necessary? 1930? Training students as automatons for corporate America? That certainly is the way to create a nation of polymaths, I'll guarantee you.

John Taylor Gatto , author of The Underground History of American Education, claims that modern public schools were inventions of people like Andrew Carnegie, John D. Rockefeller, Henry Ford and J.P. Morgan. Along with the help of "efficiency expert" Frederick W. Taylor, they designed the schools to create standardized employees and customers. The boredom and alienation was intentional, in order to produce good consumers. Learning and character were secondary. The purpose of the public schools, according to Gatto, was to serve the unholy marriage of corporations (what these days call Cosmodemonic Transnational Megacorporations) and the State.

I don't believe the structure to the schools these men wanted was any kind of evil conspiracy. I'm more of a believer in what Napoleon said, "Never attribute to malice that which can be explained by stupidity." These corporate businessmen apparently believed they were doing good. I'm sure they thought, "After all, we are trying to produce good workers and consumers. What is wrong with that?"

What is wrong with "that" is the schools are supposed to develop critical thinking skills, and create knowledgeable students with good characters. Not "good workers" and "good consumers." Being a good worker automatically comes from having a good character. It's not like you can have the first without the second.

Public schools have become so boring that kids are now drugged with Ritalin so they can sit still and pay attention. When I was in high school many of the kids used marijuana, which calmed them down. They didn't use booze, which often makes people combative.

I suppose Ritalin, an unnatural drug related to cocaine, is okay to place within children's brains because the State approves of it and has made it legal. Would parents approve if doctors prescribed coca leaves, which South American Indians have used for thousands of years with no ill effects? What's the difference, except one is legal and the other is not? Or that coca leaves are safer than Ritalin?

I'm sure that Rockefeller, et al didn't realize that the boredom and drudgery of public schools would ultimately lead to drug use – legal and illegal – so the kids could combat the ill effects of sitting and marching all day. There is also a massive drug problem in similar institutions, such as prisons and the military. Why can't the "experts" see these similarities? Maybe that old joke is true – "ex" means "has-been" and "spurt" means "drip." Most "experts" are a bunch of has-been drips.

I tell people I never learned a thing in between fourth grade and graduation day. I didn't, either. I think I may have brain damage. I could do math in the first grade. The ability disappeared soon after.

I blame most educational problems on the State's interference in schools. When the State gets involved, competition ceases. Without competition, the quality goes down. You can believe in that as a law of nature, just as you can believe the sun will always rise in the east.
I'm as free-market as they come, and as "capitalist" as can be, which means I believe in schools completely free of the State and corporations. Corporations are themselves creations of the State, since they have the legal status of persons. Remove that protection, and I suspect many of these gigantic multinationals would disappear. The free market would set the size of a business, not the State.

As tragic as it is, all of the school shootings have occurred in public schools. They haven't occurred in voluntary private schools. When's the last time a kid opened up in a Montessori school? Like never, that's when.
The public schools shove kids together who in life would have nothing to do with each other. The kids get around this by forming cliques. Sometimes the whole school turns into pool of piranhas. It wasn't for nothing that Stephen King's first novel, Carrie, was a best-seller, and turned into a hit movie. And what was it about? Public high school. And what did the survivors end up with? PTSD, that's what.

The tragic victim of King's novel, Carrie White, was a scapegoat and an outcast, just like most of the school shooters. Carrie not only destroyed the school and many of the students, she destroyed the town. "The artist is the antenna of the race," wrote Ezra Pound. All the "experts" pontificating and scratching their brains about the school shootings would be better off paying attention to a horror writer instead of a bunch of Ph.D.s in Psychology.
Want to see another movie about the boredom and alienation in public schools? Try the aforementioned Ferris Bueller's Day Off. It's about a kid who has outsmarted the system and is free of it. And what does his nemesis – the high school principal – want more than anything else? To make sure Ferris doesn't graduate so he has to spend another year in school. My nightmare on film.

Ferris isn't the archetype of the scapegoat and an outcast, like Carrie. Instead, he is the Free Man, free from the public schools, which, like corporations, are creations of the State.
Unfortunately, for a lot of kids – especially the smarter ones – high school is about having your brains permanently warped. If it isn't true, why so many nightmares for so many people? Nightmares that have even made it into blockbuster movies? The saddest part is that the nightmares – inside our heads and outside – can be avoided by removing the State from 

Sisters Under The Skin

This is Josephine Baker behaving rather elegantly. For her vulgar stuff, go HERE.
There have been a lot of reactions to the Miley Cyrus incident, including mine, but none quite so terse and incisive as Vox Day's  Here it is:

Three landmark moments in pop

Several people have asked me to share my thoughts on the recent performances at the MTV music awards.  I have seven of them.
  1. Neither liked nor cared about Billy Ray Cyrus.
  2. Neither like nor care about his daughter.
  3. Michael Jackson's televised moonwalk marked the beginning of the overt negrification of American pop culture.
  4. Madonna's rolling around on stage in a wedding dress marked the beginning of the overt sexualization of American pop culture.
  5. Whatever it was that Miss Cyrus was doing the other night marks the moment at which those two forces, negrification and sexualization, combined to complete the enwiggification of American pop culture.
  6. Umberto Eco was correct in Apocalypse Postponed when he pointed out that "pop culture" is an oxymoron.  There is nothing cultural or civilized about pop; it is intrinsically anti-culture.
  7. Demographics is destiny. Don't expect the plumbing to long outlive the melodies.
"When modes of music change, the fundamental laws of the state always change with them."
- Plato, Republic 

Martin Luther King of Kings

The adulation continues, and we're constantly being confronted with the seemingly contradictory facts that 1. Martin Luther King fixed the race problem and 2. the race problem is worse than ever. Number one, of course, makes MLK the greatest American, nay, greatest human being who ever liveD. The second gives all the little MLK wannabes something to whine about.

I guess it has gotten worse.  Fifty years ago, it was illegal to murder Black teenagers, but now, according to Al and Jesse and Eric, it's perfectly legal, and rednecks like Zimmerman plunge into the ghetto every day to murder, murder, murder.

John Derbyshire contrasts the bad old days of 1963 with the even worse days of 2013:

He Had a Dream

This week marks the fiftieth anniversary of Martin Luther King’s “I Have a Dream” speech. I have no recollection of the 1963 event myself, but I have good excuses for not remembering: (A) This was not my country at the time; and (B) I was in the Styrian Alps.

Well, this is my country now, and I’m bound to respect the national totems, of which King’s speech is certainly one, so don’t be looking for any ruthless deconstruction of the thing from me. I am merely going to compare King’s time with ours.

First, that was an America supremely confident in our ability to do anything. We had come out of the 1940s bursting with pride and vigor into a world where our competitor nations lie in ruins. Everything was possible! The USA was buzzing with energy, creativity, and wealth. Heck, we could even go to the moon!

Thus Martin Luther King:

…we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation.

Most of us would think it in bad taste to talk like that in a time of seventeen trillion dollars of national debt and a looming entitlements overhang. And we sure won’t be going back to the moon anytime soon. These are more sober times, with lower hopes and expectations.

Second, we are a lot less religious now than we were then. King’s biblical diction, those quotes from Amos and Isaiah, would be lost on hearers nowadays. Blacks are still more religious than nonblacks, but even black leaders—even Sharpton and Jackson—don’t talk like King anymore, not outside church anyway. Barack Obama sure doesn’t.

(American friends of the older generation tell me that even at the time, educated blacks made fun of King’s rhetorical style. Those blacks were yuppie agnostics, scornful of Bible-quoting Southern rubes. A lot of them, including some senior figures in King’s entourage—notably Jack O’Dell—were members of the Communist Party.)

Third, King made it sound a lot easier than it turned out to be. He was reaching for low-hanging fruit: segregation laws, voting tests, police brutality. King’s listeners believed that once those obstacles were swept away, blacks would rise to equality with whites.

Well, the obstacles were swept away, and then some. Not only was discrimination against blacks outlawed; discrimination in their favor was legislated across major areas of American life—in college admissions and in government hiring, promotion, and contracting.

Yet the equality didn’t happen. Huge differentials in crime, academic achievement, and wealth accumulation remained. In some cases, they increased.

The best-documented crime is homicide, where there is a corpse to be accounted for: Blacks commit homicide at seven to eight times the nonblack rate, according to statistics published by Eric Holder’s Department of Justice. In academics, every measure—from NAEP to LSAT (Figure 14)—shows black mean scores a full standard deviation below the nonblack means. For median household wealth, the Census Bureau reports whites at twenty times the black level, and this gap seems to be widening.
(Read the rest HERE.)

Wednesday, August 28, 2013

"The Five" Grovels

"The Five," a show I mostly enjoy, is being completely stomach-turning today, as they fall all over each other, each trying to prove himself a bigger MLK sycophant than all the others. I can see that Gutfeld doesn't really want to — He has more brains than the rest of them put together, I think — But his dissent is subtle and silent. I'm sure he knows full well that MLK was an evil scoundrel. In Martin Luther King's own day, practically everybody knew that, including Jackie Kennedy, but now nobody dares to deny his sainthood.

Some of these willful ignoramuses who call themselves "conservatives," try to argue that MLK wouldn't approve of Obama's behavior, because of some kind of integrity he was supposed to have, and because he was a Republican, another idiotic lie. No, MLK was just as rotten as Obama is, maybe even a little rottener, what with his filthy personal behavior.

This reminds me of the way the Civil Rights pimps like to compare Trayvon to Emmett Till, and the "conservatives" say, oh, no, Trayvon was a thug, but Emmet Till was an innocent victim. Again the left is more right than the self-styled "right." Trayvon was like Emmett Till, because Emmett Till was a thuggish scumbag, too. DailyKenn writes:

What Oprah and the media won't tell you about Emmett Till


[ NEW! Are white people finally awakening? ]

Emmett Till has become a household name, thanks to the diatribes of Oprah Winfrey.

Few Americans, however, are familiar with Louis Till.

What is Oprah hiding?

Louis Till was a black soldier. He was executed by the United States Army after being convicted of rape and murder.

Oprah apparently doesn't want you to know that. Nor does the mainstream Marxist media (mMm).

There is a reason.

They also don't bother to tell you that Louis was an amateur boxer in the 1930s. The teen was blessed with a charismatic personality and a proficiency at charming women. Among his female conquests was Mamie Carthan. Her parents objected to the affair, but the young and personable Louis persisted. The couple was married on October 14, 1940. Both Louis and Mamie were 18.

Also see: What Whoopi Knows About Being Black
Mamie soon left her husband because he was unfaithful. Her parents' ability to look beyond the charm of the angel-faced teen was vindicated when the enraged boxer choked his young bride unconscious. The violence escalated when Mamie threw scalding water at Louis. She obtained a restraining order against her husband, which he ignored. A judge gave Louis an option: Enlist in the army or serve prison time. Louis opted for the military.

Free of her abusive husband, Mamie was left with their infant son, Emmett Till.

Emmett's father enlisted in the army and served in the Italian campaign. He was arrested by the military police for the murder of a white Italian woman and the rape of two others. He was investigated, court martialed, convicted of murder, and sentenced to death by hanging. Emmett Till's father was hanged for murder and rape in Pisa, Italy on July 2, 1945.

The media doesn't want you to know that.

Emmett Till was murdered
after he sexually assaulted
a 21-year-old white woman
in Mississippi by grabbing her
around the waist and using
profane language.

The younger Till, Emmett, has been compared to Trayvon Martin. There are similarities. Like Trayvon, Emmett was raised by a single mother who apparently had difficulty with her son. Trayvon was sent from his home in Miami to visit his father in Sanford, Florida where he met his untimely death. Emmett, who lived in Chicago, was sent to live with a great uncle in Mississippi where he had the misfortune of following his father's footsteps with aggression towards white women, including 21-year-old Carolyn Bryant. Emmett's misbehavior managed to enrage the husband of the white woman whom he assaulted. The man and his half-brother allegedly kidnapped Emmett, beat him, gouged his eye, shot him in the head, and chucked him into the Tallahatchie River.

Also see: Black History They Don't Want You To Know

Evidence failed to convict either man.

The media also doesn't want you to know about Emmett's earlier childhood; that his mother described her young son as a "distracted" youth, according to one biographer, "who didn't know his limits." They won't tell you that Mamie Till remarried and moved to Detroit with her new husband, Pink Bradley.

The "distracted" Emmett was sent back to Chicago to live with his grandmother. Emmett's mother joined them when her second marriage ended.

When Pink Bradley showed up in Chicago to reignite their romance, Emmett, "who didn't know his limits," confronted him with a butcher knife and threatened to kill him. He was eleven years old at the time.

Store in Money, Mississippi where
Emmett Till amused his companions
by sexually assaulting a
21-year-old white woman.
The media wants you to believe the
assault was merely "flirting."

It was 1955 that his mother sent him to Money, Mississippi to stay with her 64-year-old uncle, a preacher and share cropper named Mose Wright. Emmett was 14 years old, weighed 150 pounds, and stood 5 feet 4 inches tall. He was often mistaken for an adult.

The media doesn't want you to know nor will Oprah likely tell you that on August 21, 1955 Emmett skipped church and joined a gang of black 'teens' to visit Bryant's Grocery. Like Trayvon, Emmett's motive was said to "buy candy." Emmett bragged to his companions of his conquests of white girls in Chicago, showing them a photograph of one of the girls. He was challenged to approach the only white person seen in the store, 21-year-old proprietor Carolyn Bryant. After whistling at her Emmett sexually assaulted her by grabbing her around the waist, pressed himself against her, and used obscene language. He demanded the two go on a date. No doubt the gang of black teens enjoyed the spectacle of a large black boy abusing a young, lone white woman.

The 21-year-old victim of Emmett's aggression determined to defend herself against potential rape. Having been terrorized by Emmett and his gang, she retrieved a pistol from her car at the first opportunity. The gang of black teens fled the scene and Carolyn Bryant, unlike the Italian woman raped and murdered by Louis Till, lived to tell of her horrific ordeal with Emmett and his mob of black thugs.

It was shortly thereafter that Emmett was murdered.

The media will only tell you the Emmett 'flirted' with the woman.

Now you know what the media doesn't want you to know.

below to help us spread the truth about Emmett Till
on Facebook, etc.


Added 2:45 2013/08/21

• Emmett and his crew entered Bryant's Grocery on Sunday. Given the blue laws that were prevalent in the Deep South in the 1950s and the area's prevailing fundamentalist Christian views, it is likely that the store was not open for business. If true, one has to wonder what prompted Emmett and his gang to enter the store other than an intent on rascality. Then, again, maybe the apologists are correct. It could be the gang was honestly shopping for candy.

• Given Emmett's age and health, it is probable that he was sexually stimulated by embracing the 21-year-old white woman, a fact that would have been obvious to his victim and a delight to his crew who were, no doubt, entertained by his obnoxious aggression.

• Oprah was correct in comparing Trayvon to Emmett. That, however, is to implicate Emmett, not to extricate Trayvon.

Added 10:00 pm 2013/08/21

• No self-respecting feminist would trivialize Emmett's assault on Mrs. Bryant as mere flirting. The exceptions would be (a) ignorance or (b) agenda conflict. In the latter the conflict is between sexism and racism. Racism trumped sexism.

• In reality Emmett proved to be both a racist and sexist in his arrogant assault of a white woman.

• Due to their desperation for an iconic poster child for white racism, cultural Marxists laud Emmett as a quintessential example of brutal white racism. There is no evidence, however, that Emmett suffered the brutal consequences of his actions because he was black. Had a white teen assaulted Mrs. Bryant, he may have well suffered identical consequences.

• The fact that Emmett felt secure in skipping out of his great uncle's church service (where Rev. Wright was preaching) strongly suggests that (a) the boy was incorrigible or (b) that his caretakers didn't care to take responsibility for him. If the latter is true, their child neglect is partially responsible for his brutal murder.

Quote of the day

In commoration of the 50th anniversary of guess what.  Thanks to Danny Waddell for this.

Neale's Weekly Gun Rant Volume 22

Note:  The hippy-dippy boycott of Starbucks is about last Saturday. This is a reprint, as usual.  But drop by Starbucks sometime anyway. By all accounts nobody noticed the boycott:) Neale also points out that with Republicans like Chris Christie, we don't need any Democrats. Today's illustration is from Stella Women's Academy, High School Division Class C3 (特例措置団体ステラ女学院高等科C3部).

Neale's Weekly Gun Rant Volume 22
by Neale Osborn

Attribute to L. Neil Smith's The Libertarian Enterprise

Buy a cup of Starbucks coffee on Saturday!! A whiny gun control group is pathetically trying to organize a boycott of Starbucks for Saturday. Link.
"Guns in places like Starbucks is intimidating and an unnecessary risk to our children and families," said Kim Russell, the national outreach director for Moms Demand Action for Gun Sense in America. "We are asking Starbucks to exercise its right to adopt a gun-free policy in its stores."
Isn't it amazing the lack of respect for Starbucks right to NOT adopt a gun-free policy in it's stores. Especially since not ONE open carrying or legally concealed carrying patron has ever injured another patron in a Starbucks. Again, I've been thinking of taking up coffee drinking. This clinches it! (Thanks again to Ma Kelly)
Thanks to NewStalker Petey Coober for this one. Link. What a way to get your pot. LOL. This man got a huge sur[rise when he opened his brand new 1000 pound gun safe. It seems someone in Nogales, Mexico, where the safes are manufactured They loaded the pot into the wrong safe, and it didn't get delivered to the intended receiver. I think there's gonna be a bunch of people pissed off at the delivery driver for delivering over $425K worth of pot to the wrong address.
Arizona's Flowing Wells Unified School District sent home a "Student/Parent/Principal Contract For Eliminating Guns And Weapons From School 2013—2014," according to the Huffington Post. Now, we all know the HuffPo is a liberal agenda driven site, that has never had a nice thing to say about gun ownership, so I would imagine their take on this would be favorable. it actually seems, at the moment, to be neutral. Who'da thunk it?
Another from the HuffPo idiots. Link. I happen to oppose this law in Mississippi. Because it limits the number of staff who can carry. But it IS a step in the correct direction. all a "Gun Free Zone" does is tell the scumbags where there are defendeless victims gathered together to make mass murder easier. Of course THIS article really spends some snark on the pro-gun stance.
Another shout out to Reality Check for a good find. Not only the article, but within the article, there is a link to a manual I have been looking for! Link. As usual, JPFO (one of the premier gun rights organizations out there—I recommend joining even if you aren't Jewish) brings us an interesting article.
Dateline Houston: A "legally" armed woman defends her beaten husband from criminals. How eeeevil of her to shoot at those strong-arm entrepreneurs. Link. I would have preferred to see a few dead criminals on the ground, but at least they are both alive. It's amazing that one armed person making such a spectacular save never makes the mainstream media, but what can you expect from media hacks? Returning from the bathroom to find her husband on the ground being beaten by six thugs, she opened fire on them. They shot back, and a firefight ensued. One would have wished for at least one dead thug on the ground, but at least the couple escaped. All six robbers escaped, and none of the Denny's customers (who apparently did nothing to aid a single man being beaten by six thugs) were injured in the shootout.
Chrissie, me lad, I thought you got your fat gut stapled because you want to be the REPUBLICAN presidential nominee, not the Democrat one. But it seems you actually are the asshole I have long maintained you to be. Link. Following in the steps of Kahleeforneeyah, you are trying to restrict the citizens of NJ from buying ammunition without government approval, ban certain types of firearms, and, well, we get the idea. You are yet another RINO, vying for the top spot.
On August 16, New Jersey Governor Chris Christie (R) vetoed some gun bills and sent others back to the state legislature with "recommendations." One such recommendation is "requiring a New Jersey firearms identification card for the purchase of all ammunition."

Christie also wants physicians and screeners overseeing involuntary commitments to inquire about firearm ownership. This information could be obtained through a provision in the bills for a firearms identification card.

Christie vetoed the .50 caliber rifle ban, saying he wanted to ban long range Barrett .50 calibers, not all .50 calibers in general.
I guess it's fortunate that the fatso surgery isn't working too well (can't keep your pie-hole closed no matter what), because a tub like you doesn't stand too much chance in DC. Well, I hope my parents wake up and smell the Christie, and vote against your ass the next time they can. The sooner you are gone the better.
What an... Interesting slant on a story. Link. Read the story carefully. these guns were NOT seized, except, perhaps, for the last batch. These legally bought guns were sold to the undercover cop. So, the NYC taxpayers paid 3x retail for these guns, which will be destroyed (after, of course, New York's finest appropriate the choicest pieces for their private collections). Doesn't that sound like a fair deal for the taxpayers?
"The problem is that the gun laws passed now, so it's like now I can only buy a gun from a gun store every 30 days," Campbell complained in one conversation, according to an indictment. "So I had to, like, pay different people to keep buying different guns."
Not true. South Carolina has damn reasonable gun laws, and apart from FEDERAL guidelines requiring the report of multiple purchases within a 7 day period, there are no restrictions on multiple purchases. The only restrictions, apart from federal age limits, are on handguns—out of state purchasers can not buy handguns for in state pick-up. Said handgun purchases must be shipped to a dealer in the purchaser's home state.
There are too many examples of this story too bother to link them, but this is very telling. Not one mainstream media article on the shooting of the Australian visitor ever even hints that this might be a hate crime, despite three black youths shooting a white man out of "boredom". Yet a man shooting another man in self defense HAS to be a hate crime because the shooter was white and the dead man black. (Yes, I am referring to the Trayvon crap). And here's another one was hardly ever reported, and never classified as a hate crime. Link. EVEN WIKIPEDIA cited racism as a possibility—
The national news media was criticized for ignoring the story because the victims were white and all five of the suspects were black; most news reports came from local media and online news sites
But it hardly blipped in the lamestream media.
Weld County, Colorado. Leading the charge to freedom. It's about time that states start losing people to their asininity without people being forced to move. Seceding from the state and forming the 51st state sounds like a great idea to me!
WOW! Two neat results in one article. Link. First, a perfect 500 hits for 500 skeet targets. Second, NBC reported on a shooting event favorably. Two miracles in one story.
Now THAT'S a gun-related sign I want to see at local schools. Link. What do you want to bet that IF the lamestream media gets this story, they put it out as "Fundamentalist Christian School Waits For Islamic Terrorists" or something similar.
School administrator Perry Black told Fox News the "purpose of the sign is to prevent us from ever having to use any kind of force."

"We have a moral obligation to protect those children in our care and we're dedicated to doing that with whatever means are necessary," he said. "I'd rather be in the news for having a sign than having a tragedy."
Damn straight he does. I'm not a Christian, but I like this way of thinking.
JPFO strikes again, with truth and clarity. Link. I know, I know. All the victim-disarming asswipes out there claim the UN will do nothing of the sort. But the UN already forcibly disarms civilians wherever they go across the planet. And the documents that led to the current "treaty" lay out exactly what the goal is. It's past time to leave the UN (AND force it to leave the US).
So now the NSA (Nasty Spying Agency) thinks it has a copyright-protected logo, and that it is somehow illegal to parody it. Link. Despite Supreme Court rulings regarding parodies such as:
according to the American Bar Association. In Campbell v. Acuff-Rose Music, Inc., the U.S. Supreme Court ruled, "parody is the 'use of some elements of a prior author's composition to create a new one that, at least in part, comments on that author's works.' Id. at 580. Like other forms of comment or criticism, parody can provide social benefit, 'by shedding light on an earlier work, and, in the process, creating a new one.' Id. In other words, parodies can be considered 'transformative' works, as opposed to merely 'superseding' works. Since transformative works 'lie at the heart of the fair use doctrine's guarantee of breathing space within the confines of copyright,' the more transformative the parody, the less will be the importance of other § 107 factors that may weigh against a finding of fair use. Id. at 579."
In addition to this, since the American taxpayers paid for (and therefore OWN) the NSA logo, ANYONE who wishes to poke fun of it, parody it, or otherwise screw around with it has the right to do so, since it is THEIR OWN PROPERTY. While the original retailer has caved to the NSA's illegal and unconstitutional demands, a new retailer,, to sell the shirts. I ordered mine!
Well, that wraps up this week's rant. See ya NEXT week!

My People

As near as I've been able to determine, I am of redneck ancestry, and am rather proud of the fact. Indeed, like most of the human race, I feel a connection with, and responsibility towards, my close genetic/cultural relatives. That's not to say I feel nothing towards the rest of the human race — It's just that charity begins at home.  That thinking is compatible with Christianity and Darwinism, when you think about it.  Actually, just about everybody in the human race feels the same way, the only exception being a few totally neurotic White liberals, who feel that it's immoral to take care of your own.  The moral thing is to let your own go to hell, and spend all your efforts and energy taking care of everybody but your own. This is where you get the missionary spirit and worse things. This is where you find the notion that American boys should spill their blood for the benefit of Iraqis and Syrians and Vietnamese and Israelis and Koreans, and certainly not their own people. That's where you find the notion that we should open our borders to everybody in the world and sign them all up for immediate welfare, while our own people waste away in poverty.  Oh, yes. Some of our own people are in really bad shape.  But the MAG (Media, Academia, Government) doesn't care about a bunch of hillbilly/rednecks, who are just there to be made fun of, while we stride across the world bringing the benefits of our efforts to everybody else.

The following I found over at It originally appeared at It has some salty language in it, but it belongs there.

August 27, 2013 Matt Forney

The unfashionably poor.

Recently, I was sent to a workshop at a Labor Department office to test its usefulness in helping the unemployed find work, helping to determine whether taxpayer dollars are being spent wisely. This was in a certain county in upstate New York that I’m not at liberty to disclose, other than to say that it’s in a rural area and it has one of the highest unemployment rates in the state.

It also has one of the lowest literacy rates in the state. I’ll call it “Methlab County.”

The particular program I sat in on was “Internet Job Search,” about using the web to find work. You might be wondering, in this age of 4G smartphones and ubiquitous Internet access, precisely who would have difficulty applying to jobs online. The answer: fifty- and sixtysomething white ex-factory workers who don’t own computers, don’t even have email accounts. In fact, the second half of the three-hour (!) workshop was devoted to teaching us how to open and use email accounts with Yahoo! or Google.

These people were computer illiterate to a degree I didn’t even think was possible in the year 2013. Not only did they not know how to use email, most of them had no clue how to use a mouse and keyboard. The instructor, a pious, chubby-cheeked middle-aged clerk, had to walk them through the laborious tasks of double-clicking with a mouse, highlighting the text on their resumes (that have been prepared for them by other department cubicle monkeys), and using Ctrl+C and Ctrl+V to copy and paste. This took an hour-and-a-half.

In that time, I had not only copypasted my fake resume, I had enough time to encode a secret message in the text (“FUCK THIS SHIT”).

What’s worse is that the workshop attendees themselves knew that all this was in vain. One of them even commented to the effect of, “I’m just gonna forget all this tomorrow.”

The whole episode put me into an existential torpor. These aren’t bad people; they’re not very smart or sophisticated, true, but they’re law-abiding and did what society expected of them their entire lives. They have a high school degree at most and spent the bulk of their lives stamping widgets at a factory for $40,000-50,000 a year plus vacation time, health insurance, a pension and other benefits. They bought houses, had kids and followed the rules. And at the tail end of their lives, the factory moved to Mexico or China and left them with nothing, not even their retirement.

Now they’re expected to suddenly upend their entire lives and learn a skill set that is completely alien to them, at a time in their lives when they are least capable of learning new things.

And it’s not like we’re in Silicon Valley; the only jobs left in Methlab County are minimum-wage retail ones like Walmart. Except they’re not even qualified for many of those, since Walmart and many other retailers no longer accept paper applications. The reality is that as soon as most of these folks’ unemployment runs out, they’ll be going straight onto welfare, assuming stress and poor health doesn’t kill them first. The mere idea of making these people attend workshops like this, deluding them into thinking they have a shot in the modern economy, smacks me as an unbelievably cruel joke.

Whenever I see some wealthy coastal wonk cry about how we have a moral obligation to bring in more illiterate Latino immigrants to pick fruit for $1.25 an hour, I seethe.

Whenever I see some privileged white girl get all weepy over the ventilated corpse of Trayvon Martin, I bite my tongue to keep from screaming.

Whenever I read someone who’s turned that Emma Lazarus quote into a minor religion, I want to pistol whip them with a .45.

The reason is because there’s a mass of “hungry, tired and poor” already in America. They live in places like Methlab County, New York, where the economy has been devastated by outsourcing and mass immigration. They dutifully followed the script society handed them only to get fucked and left on the side of the road at the most vulnerable stage of their lives.

And you worthless leftist hypocrites not only don’t care about them, you mock them.

While you pump your fists in a “Million Hoodie March,” deifying a middle-class thug wannabe, you attack the residents of Methlab County as “white trash.” While you instigate witch hunts against researchers who show that Latinos have a lower mean IQ than whites, you gleefully bash rural whites as “stupid” and “ignorant.” You’ll piously cry about “racism” and “bigotry” when it comes to foreigners who would gladly slit your throats and gut your corpses, but you openly disdain people in your own country who look like you.

“Eww, those people listen to country music and probably go to church, too. Grooooooss!”

Later that day, after the workshop was over, I gave my supervisor my thoughts. On the record, I said that it was an effective program for people who are out of work and need to learn how to use the Internet. Off the record, I said that anyone who actually needs to take a workshop like that in this day and age is fucked.

He agreed with me.

Tuesday, August 27, 2013

Racist! Heretic! Poltroon!

Or whatever.  The point is that "racist" never did mean anything very clear, and by now is completely useless. I heard recently that a guy got called a racist for saying that different breeds of dogs were good for different things.  People who criticize the Muslim religion are often called "racist." So of course if you have any opinions at all other than the liberal party line, and you dare to express them, some dink is going to call you a racist. Don't bother arguing.  Just send him this URL.  To this post.  Spread this around. If he's too dumb to know who Trotsky was, you can make it a teaching moment.

Headhunters for the Headhunters!

When a plumber tells you that he thinks all human groups are equal in intellect and temperament, you smile benignly and pat his head because he doesn't know any better.  Not only did his plumbing education not include much anthropology, but his actual plumbing work has kept him too busy to recognize evidence against such equality in the people around him. The same goes for other professions, from astronomers to zither players. It's not that they're not smart themselves (because everybody is equal! Yuk yuk), it's that they just somehow missed some obvious truths.  Maybe in part it's because they carefully don't pay any attention to the people around them, but choose to interpret mankind based on sitcoms and crime dramas on TV.

But even so, when I hear such wildly unscientific trendy pseudo-platitudes, it's depressing.  But when I hear them from somebody who's supposed to be educated in such matters, it's more than depressing, it's enraging. Anybody with any kind of education in biology or anthropology knows very well that there is no such equality among human subspecies or the subspecies of any mammal.

And the charlatan Jared Diamond also knows it very well, but lies about it.  Now, a lot of anthropologists who want to keep their jobs just avoid the subject of human equality, rather than lie about it.  But Diamond goes that extra mile, and tells the complete opposite of what he knows to be the truth.  For what?  For money, reputation, who knows?  A liar is a liar.  And this, now, from an honest scientist, Greg Cochran:

The Masters of the Future

In Guns, Germs, and Steel, Jared Diamond argues that all human groups have equal mental capabilities – except for the inhabitants of New Guinea, who are clearly smarter than the human norm.

If this is the case, there’s money to be made. Good performance in a lot of high-paying jobs requires intelligence above some fairly high threshold. Such people are scarce [outside of New Guinea], and that means that their labor is expensive. The fraction of individuals above a high threshold increases dramatically with a higher mean, and since people in PNG don’t have high incomes, there is a fantastic arbitrage opportunity here. You could locate some of the many geniuses that must exist in PNG, rapidly and inexpensively teach them high-tech skills (which they would learn easily, since they’re geniuses, natch), apply for H1B visas, and them resell them to the highest Silicon valley bidder. This wouldn’t last, of course – these guys would not stay peons forever. They’d be generating their own start-ups in a few years, founding hedge funds, dominating the Vegas poker tournaments, etc. Some, less materialistic, would become grandmasters, win Fields medals, or write seminal books about the attractions of cannibalism. Still, you could make a lot of money in the short run, and if you were careful to build good relationships with your employees, they might let you in on the ground floor of an IPO later.

Poul Anderson, always a visionary, foresaw this. A character in one his books put it thusly:

”I am a racist – a dedicated, fanatical racist – who maintains, and can scientifically prove, that his own race is inferior. The only true humans on earth, my friends, the main line of evolution, the masters of the future, are the lordly Melanesians. “

Of course that character was feigning insanity, but still.