Are You Incited?

There’s another element that no one but me will dare to mention. Why won’t they? Because they’re actively pushing an agenda (being: life without consequences is the best life). This, of course, is their prerogative. All I ever ask is that we all tell the truth.

This post is not meant to rally the conservatives or preach to the choir. I am writing directly to literate BLMers. It is my intention to incite all three of them.

It’s not their attempt to deify the uncommonly poor decision maker George Floyd that bothers me. It’s that they also, indirectly and at times directly, idolize cowardly bystanders. The Bible commends the good Samaritan. BLM is the priest. BLM is the Levite.

This didn’t happen in the alleyway down below at 2:30am on Kitty Genovese Avenue. Having occurred during broad daylight doesn’t make the situation worse for the police, and it does make the situation worse for George Floyd. Hint—most folks (even those with vices) know that “night time is the right time” for shameful behaviors.

Wyatt Earp’s actions during the famous OK Corral shootout were captured by a journalist in the phrase that said Earp was “cool as a cucumber” during the gunfight. What law enforcement training program did Earp receive his certificate from, again? Which department would our wild ancestors have gone to to file a complaint against Earp? Dodge City? Anyone able to pull up those records quick? Siri, a little help?

You BLMers are so fed up with white supremacy and cops killing blacks that every time it happens you stop to watch the black man or woman die? And not just stop, but record the killing (and your cowardly inaction) for posterity sake? How do you sleep at night? All week we have read about how all those known as Gen Y, Millenials, Gen Z, iGen, and younger, those who see racism imprinted in the very institutions of America—in their own parents—so clearly and darkly, aren’t really even hopeful that Chauvin will be convicted. And all these self-same youngsters with the most penetrating eye, when they see a man being murdered, instead of help him, they capture it on film? Give me a break. You just didn’t want George and friends to head towards you when he got up. Tell the truth.

George Floyd would still be alive if just one observer—just one—would’ve taken action against the officers. The ensuing chaos would’ve, at the least, bought time for the man’s enlarged heart (why do I know the size of this man’s heart?) to slow down, and at the most, the ensuing chaos—lifesaving as it would’ve been—would’ve made the news for its model of a proper way to intervene the next time Ol’ Whitey gets the idea to kill a black man. (And we all know there will be a next time, wink wink.)

Would that observer have suffered some kind of negative consequence for his or her action? Probably. But the newest god, George Floyd, would have missed his chance at immortality and be alive and well today, right? And that’s the most important thing, isn’t it? Isn’t it? Isn’t drawing breath the most important value in America? Breathing clean air is why we’re doing any of this, isn’t it? Going green, rewriting history, colonizing Mars, and filming black people as they die. It’s all about guaranteeing clean air to breathe into uncompressed lungs.

That’s as far as BLM has gotten. We could be naked, cold, and hungry, but if we’re all naked, cold, and hungry, maybe they’ll write a book about us.

Are you incited?

Midwestern Perspective on the Chauvin Trial

This post is a time capsule for me. It will convey two distinct but related thoughts. The first is why folks like me do not see the death of George Floyd as “murder, plain and simple.” The second is why folks like me want Chauvin to be found not guilty.

As to the first, decapitation kills every human. Every human. Every time. Drowning kills every human. Every human. Every time. A certain amount of blood loss kills every human. Every human. Every time.

Does a knee to the back and/or neck of a person kill that person, every person, every time? The fact that it can be argued or needs some kind of demonstration to determine it proves my point. But to be clear, no. No, Derek Chauvin’s knee to the neck does not kill a human every time. No it doesn’t. Not with certainty. So it’s not “murder, plain and simple.” Next point.

Why do I want Chauvin to be found “not guilty”? To help you understand, let me relate how I felt in 2016 when the NY Times election meter showed Trump was winning. I was excited at a level that was out of body for me. Why? Because I wanted Trump to win? No. I couldn’t care less if Trump won or Hillary won. I was excited because Trump was not supposed to have a chance. Everyone who thought that they had a brain, every expert, believed they knew for sure—evidence-based—that Trump had no chance. But I knew that almost all the people I knew where definitely voting for Trump. Either I was wrong or the experts were wrong. In short, when Trump won, I won.

Same thing on this Chauvin trial. Why do I want the jury to declare him not guilty? Because I believe he’s not guilty? No. I couldn’t care less if he is guilty or not guilty. But I know that the majority of people I know are saying that it is just “obvious” that cops are racist and that cops are killing unarmed blacks by the droves. “It is a theme of existence in America,” they would have me believe. But when the jury votes “not guilty”, then I win. Because in the court of law, the evidence and arguments presented to the jury is what matters—not mob rule. And the mob—BLM—needs to disperse and go home.

America is not racist. America is not based on or built on racism. A “not guilty” verdict will help end the BLM lie. It will help disperse the mob. BLM is a joke, always has been, and it will be forgotten as a #trending “huge movement of the teens and twenties” by teens or those as mature as teens, like stonewash jeans and braided leather belts of yesterday. BLM is already getting tired. They are already fearful. They have no plan for the “not guilty” verdict. Their plan for the “guilty” verdict is to wait for the next video of an unarmed black man being killed by a policeman. And it is long past time for them to quit like their kind always does. BLM is built on sand. The “not guilty” verdict will reveal this to the world. That’s why I want it. I am right. I will win. These events will be remarked by historians as the time when rich people got really mad that bad things happen.

Week In Review—Shotgun Style

My daughter’s school district sent out the anonymous “don’t be ashamed” but “your child has to go into quarantine” email yesterday. This is the second time. Education should erase fear, not promote it. Public Schools must be abolished.

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I have officially passed the tipping point. I do not think earthly happiness can be achieved without owning a Rodecaster Pro podcast production studio.

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I usually feel pretty smart. Okay, I usually feel very smart. But these days I think I feel how geniuses must feel. You see my oldest daughter is 3/4 round-eye, the other 1/4 being Asian. And my youngest daughter is 1/2 DFPWHTSSTACSO (Descended From People Who Have The Same Skin Tone As Colonial Slave Owners) and the other 1/2 Habesha or never conquered or—to your eyes—black (which is the same). So I think I’m one of the good guys—just like my ancestors used to be.

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As far as Megan Rapinoe, I only want to share what a stripper told me one night as we critically, but casually, surveyed the other Independent Professional Entertainers on the floor. (Don’t ask me. Something to do with taxes.) She said, “The hair color we were born with adorns our body as beautifully as possible. It matches our face and skin and complexion perfectly.”

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Lastly, some hope. I overheard an elderly patient on one of my flights this week lament upon hearing that she still had to put on a mask when we landed at the gaining hospital. “But I’ve had both of my vaccinations,” she declared irritated. In this case, like most, the customer is always right. As the hospitals return to normalcy, the public will too. And hopefully we’ve learned to never again trust health experts while we have our health. Or Democrats.

Remaining Unmolested in the Time of Perversion

My title comes from the fact that I’m an Eagle Scout. I was in the Boy Scouts of America since 4th grade, and I was awarded the highest rank shortly before my 18th birthday.

This achievement is probably the biggest reason I was accepted into USAF pilot training—plenty of fellas have good grades and a pilot license. Nowadays, if I’m at work and in front of a television set I can’t help but be struck by the amount of commercials having to do with how the Boy Scouts were apparently the second worst organization in human history as measured by how many little boys the adult men in charge molested.

I was never molested. None of my friends were molested.

Also all over the news right now is the Oprah interview. Hopefully it’s Oprah’s last. I refuse to watch it, but am confident the folks at Charlie Hebdo have summed it up quaintly.

We live in the time of perversion.

Meghan and Harry are not royalty any more than LeBron is king.

Oprah didn’t “conduct an interview with the Duke and Duchess of Sussex”, anymore than Trump “incited the January 6th insurrection.”

America is not a democracy—nor an oligarchy—anymore than Somalia is under rule of law.

When my friend and I had cars and driver’s licenses, we were sure to enjoy the newfound and rare freedom to linger whimsically after Monday night Scout meetings ended. The rest of the boys were picked up by their parents in timely fashion with little say about the matter. Most leaders were themselves parents, but there often would be one thirty year old single dude who just liked camping and giving back to the organization that formed him so strongly.

One night, this thirty year old and my friend and I were chatting in the parking lot. The Scoutmaster came over and stood for a bit—almost seeming impatient. Finally he did seem impatient and I said, “We’re okay. You don’t have to stay.”

I’ll never forget the feeling in my gut when the Scoutmaster gave me a look that said, “How stupid can you be?”

As we turned to get in our respective vehicles, in an attempt to save face with my friend, I think I overcompensated and actually said, “I still don’t understand why we have to have two adults,” even though I knew darn well that child molestation was a thing.

For this post, the aspect I’m drawing attention to is the silent shame that I was made to feel for being stupid, for ignoring reality, for trying to pretend there are no patterns in life.

My life is overflowing with men and women who made me feel shame for being stupid.

And my-unmolested-self couldn’t be more grateful.

How about you? Feel like you learned anything here today?

Guilty Pleasure on A Friday Afternoon

The piano tuner came over today—at my request. He doesn’t have as much personality as my last one, but he is taller by an inch or two.

Picture the scene with me—I open the door. Having only spoken on the phone, and lightly at that, we exchange cordialities and I invite him in. He knows to remove his shoes. But it’s what he did next that I latently long to see—not that I’d ever admit it to anyone. Usually I like to be in control. Usually I like to command the action. But every once in a while, I derive immense pleasure from watching. And today he didn’t disappoint.

He touched…the body of the piano. Mind you, he didn’t just reach out and raise and lower the fallboard. It wasn’t merely—and gently—sliding the music rack in and out. No. He rested his body against its body—nonchalantly. Like he couldn’t hurt her. Like he knew she didn’t mind.

He removed the music rack completely and laid it aside. Then he even rested a tool or two of his on the pins that he would soon twist and turn intelligently.

Understand me here. It’s as if he and my piano were old friends. Intimate friends. As if they had a history. In a sense, you could say that I became an unwitting voyeur. And I loved every minute of it.

You see, I could never do to my piano what he did, no sir. She means too much to me. I treat her perfectly. I only touch a few spots of her body, and delicately at that. I play on her keys ferociously, but that’s what they’re there for. Sometimes I open her lid, but usually I keep it closed. Don’t get me wrong, I’d love to do more, to go further. But it feels premature. And there’s a mutual respect that comes with waiting. But that doesn’t mean I don’t like to watch when I get a chance on a Friday afternoon.

Re-Engaging With the Study of Politics

I’m working through a guided reading of the Great Books of the Western World, as you know. Sometimes, not often, certain passages are not compelling. The author’s divisions feel forced and the destination blurs.

Because of my high literacy, I began noticing that the more I read the more I learned. And the more I learned the more I began wondering, more clearly than ever before, why am I studying this so fervently? I don’t want to be in politics. I don’t want to be a politician. It’s an interesting field of study, but there are many others just as interesting that may prove more practical, I couldn’t help thinking. But I kept coming back to the fact that Locke said that man first existed in the State of Nature on his own and only later, when it benefited him, gathered into political society. Aristotle, on the other hand, had started with man as a political creature. There was no isolated man. For Aristotle, no man was an island.

Obviously, Locke is right. But whichever side you come down on, the reason to study politics as a hobby is that everything (except religion) is post-politics. Your politics influence your decisions in every other facet of life (except religion). And the only thing that influences your politics is your religious beliefs.

Want to chat about the weather? Me too. But that’s not half as interesting as why you believe America is or should be a democracy. And it’s not one hundredth as important as why you believe that Qu’ran:Bible::Black Ink:Red Ink.

Will my study of politics help me in any measurable form or fashion? It might. That’s why I do it.

Morning Motivation

Two quick thoughts that make me smile:

Firstly, if you stop reading political columnists/pundits (as I recently have), flipping through and, subsequently past, even so-called news headlines is a breeze—as apparently there’s hardly any actual newsworthy events to report. And no news is good news.

Secondly, as a pilot I have to take flight physicals. These used to be a breeze mentally because I was a twenty year old in excellent shape. Now, double that age, the last few (still passing of course) have been mentally stressful because I’m not a twenty year old in excellent shape. To alleviate this, I’ve started a fitness routine to handle and control that stress. The motivational point is this: I am probably half way through this life and have never had to run for exercise, beyond a few tests for school and the Air Force. Never. Are you going to tell me that after 40 I will start running? After 41? How about after 50? Think I’m going to develop a habit of running after 50? No sir. Take that to its conclusion and that means that I will have made it through life on planet earth without running. That’s something to marvel at.

Two Things I Learned Today By Watching a Ten Year Old and a Seven Month Old Eat

If you want to get a ten year old to eat his cold cereal to the point the bowl is dry, then have his day begin with him having to rewrite his previous three days’ mistake-ridden writing assignments.

If you’re still unclear the meaning or origin of the popular, “You can’t have your cake and eat it too,” then you haven’t watched a seven month old eat with her hands. She grabs the wafer just fine. Her mouth opens. Her hand goes into her mouth. Her tongue touches the wafer. Then her hand and the wafer come back out. Boom. Unlikely as it seems, we now know that a baby’s hunger gave birth to the adult’s sad truth.

If You’re Angry, Then You’re Cain (And They’re Abel)

Here’s a post on practical application of the Bible. Why? Because it’s Sunday and because today I found myself looking up what the word “anger” meant as far as the Bible writers were concerned because I didn’t want to believe that I was angry—because I didn’t want the Word to apply to me.

Recently, my stepson and I have been reading some ol’ timey stories and the characters often say, “Be careful! Or I’ll warm you!”

Contextually, we knew this was a threat to fight, but we also knew that we didn’t quite understand it. Then, in one of the stories, an author took time to explain that “warming” someone has to do with how your opponent (the one about to be ‘warmed’) is presently calm and cool, but after a fight will be hot and sweaty—or warm. (“Painting your cheeks red” has similar meaning, again depending on context.)

Suffice it to say that this is what the biblical writers meant by “anger.” And this is still contemporary anger, too. Anger is being hot.

Cain kills Abel. He kills him after the LORD warns him that there is no reason to be angry.

How to cool off? Transfer the heat via radiation, convection, and/or perspiration. But I don’t know if this is the right question.

If you’re angry, then you’re Cain. Instead of cooling off, maybe don’t get angry. How to not get angry? Total perspective change. Here’s mine.

I’ve now come to be happy that the LORD has chosen my ex-wife to parent our daughter.

Why does it work? Because I have no fucking idea why He chose Abel; and His choice in this matter is likewise mysterious. (And because I’m not Cain.)

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And Another Thing

The other day, I read the same type of argument I have been hearing for many years now. In this case, it was Rich Lowry who did the writing. He wrote, “A key difference between the Greeks and Romans and the rest was that their writers critiqued and lampooned their own societies. This willingness to engage in self-criticism became one of the hallmarks, and strengths, of Western culture.” He wrote this within a piece which lamented the removal of the “Classics” from curriculums around the country.

At first blush, anyone who makes the same lamentations as Mr. Lowry might find his statement to be true. But ultimately it is not true. A key difference is not that the Greeks and Romans lampooned and critiqued their own societies (though other societies may, no doubt, have accomplished less of this). The key difference is that we, the West, conversed with our own societies.

Make no mistake, the Left believes it is carrying out the staunch and noble tradition of “criticizing and lampooning its own society” that Mr. Lowry mentions. But they, the Left, were never the West.

The West is something you choose to become, not something you’re born into. You’re not the West because you’re white. Or because you’re an American. Just like you’re not a man because you’re male. Or a woman because you’re female. Do you see? The West is built of men and women of a certain quality. But the Left never learned this. (This, too, can help explain why they behave like children.)

Regarding the activity of criticism and lampooning, the Left believes that when they remove the classics, they are doing what Copernicus and Galileo did to the geocentric model of the universe when that pair introduced the heliocentric model. The Left believes that when they revise history, they are continuing the tradition of replacing superstitious falsehood like Darwin. Don’t miss this point: Mr. Lowry would have us think that the West’s great tradition and singular tradition is to “critique and lampoon” itself. If that was accurate, the Left is surely in the right. But it’s not accurate.

The tradition is to converse, to discuss, to ask each other uncomfortable questions. And this is certainly not what the Left is doing.

So stop. Stop pretending that there is any other reality unfolding than shaming, that there is any other fix than violence—and most don’t seem to care to take it that far.

If the Left was the West, they’d talk to us. They’d debate us. That they don’t, even as they believe they are continuing the progress begun by the West, simply teaches us that we need to elevate our strategy.

To conclude, the question is not, “Are the Classics Racist?” as Mr. Lowry and his ilk like to express. The question is, “Should the Left be stopped?”