Tagged: faith

Imitation Is The Sincerest Form of Flattery Part 2

Whatever the malady that drove Mayor Pete and Chasten to the hospital (Get Well Soon!), I had quite the adorable little experience with my 13 month old daughter the other day. It definitely was a sign of the times.

Like most fathers, in the true sense of the word, I found myself feeling weary from spending several hours in all manner of mind-numbing activities with my daughter. And like most fathers, again, fathers, not homosexual men who visit hospitals for photo ops, being tired, I began to consider poor decisions as viable options and thought, “I can just lay down on the floor, right here, smack dab in the middle of the family room. Nothing unsafe can happen without me hearing it. I just need to rest my eyes.”

Here I must confess that there is also a certain thrill when your own flesh-and-blood, your very seed—as they used to say in Bible times—believes they have free reign to climb around, on, and over you.

As most of you know, this daughter is not the only continuation of my bloodline which I have helped deliver unto the world, which I only mention here to relate that I have experienced this climbing scene before.

So, little “A-” (let’s call her) starts to crawl on top of me until she gets right up onto my chest.

Oh, sorry to interrupt, but you should know that for whatever reason A- has developed a habit of leaning her head forward when she wants a kiss. (Or at least that’s how we interpret and respond to the signal.)

So, as I can tell that her head is near my head, I next feel her head, face really, lower down to my head. This was not, to my thinking, very well aimed, if affection was her goal; her face landed nowhere in particular, it seemed. All I’m trying to describe is that her face was now awkwardly touching mine.

As you’re probably thinking, I thought, “Oh! How sweet!”

Then (my eyes are closed all the while) I feel a slightly uncomfortable, open-infant-palm go: “Smack!” And right on the button, too!

As you know, I’m tough as nails, being a hero pilot and all, so don’t read into this recounting anything more than that it startled me.

And then it hit me! No, not her hand, but what she was doing.

While laying there I remembered that we have on the shelf these old 1950s era children’s encyclopedias and that back in the 50s and before, the physicians used to have a less precise approach to CPR. Taken together (context drives meaning, folks) with the fact that, these days, especially with the pandemic going on for her entire life, everyone knows that first responders are the priestly class, if not gods themselves, and she was communicating to me—the little savant—that she, too, like her maker, wants to be a first responder.

Do you see it? In that face-to-face move, she wasn’t giving me affection. She thought I was dead, or unconscious at the least, and she was at the “look, listen, and feel” step of assessing her patient.

As far as the whack on the nose, it was a forgivable targeting error—she is only 1 after all. She had merely—incorrectly I might add (some performance improvement is upcoming)—assessed that I was in cardiac arrest and had begun old-style compressions.

My daughter! Following in the footsteps of her ol’ man. Can you believe it? It was a beautiful sight to behold, even if there was no professional cameraman nearby.

This Ever Happen To You?

I just had this terrible experience.

I’m finally at the point in my morning where it’s time to shower. Know what I mean? I’ve exercised, taken the kiddo to school, had my regularly scheduled one-on-one phone call with my boss (he was away from his computer so we did just a “phone call” instead of Teams video chat), sent some emails, fielded some calls, and saw the flooding in NY.

Following?

I’m not saying it was an ideal morning or the ideal time to shower, but I was there.

Now, there is nothing on this side of heaven so wonderful as a hot cup of coffee after a shower. Am I right? So I head over to the machine and see where it’s at. I’m married, you know, so lots of possibilities await my inspection.

The machine, I discover, is on in the “stay warm” setting. I think, “Oh, how nice. My wife already made a pot.”

Then I squint and see that, no, no she did not. That’s not it at all. I was fully wrong.

The right answer is that she rewarmed the leftovers from yesterday. Kinda gross, but, hey, we’ve all been there. Am I wrong?

So now this is where the panic sets in. What’s the proper process for the situation? I know, instinctively, that rapid temperature changes are recipes for disaster when it comes to physical objects. Luckily, our Ninja Coffee Maker has a removable container that is filled with the new water, so I don’t have to refill the hot pot and risk catastrophe in that sense. But what about the pipes? Where should I pour the warmed coffee?

Can you understand my anguish?

I WAS READY FOR A SHOWER AND NOW THE PHYSICAL UNIVERSE IS ABOUT TO BE ALTERED!!

Being a natural hero, I poured out the coffee directly into the kitchen sink drain, only then running some cold water down the pipes to offset the coming darkness.

But before showering I just had to ask, “Has this ever happened to you?“

Get Lost, Loser!

I’m a loser. Fact.

The Taliban—well, you know.

Why am I so unafraid to declare my shameful status? Because I never want to stop “moving forward”, as Rocky Balboa said in Rocky 6.

As I mentioned a few posts ago, for a while now it has become evident that the next “loss” is written on the wall. The workplace is being used as a tool for government conformity, totalitarian-style. I’m stubborn (and right), but I’m not stupid. I’m talking, of course, about the vaccine and mandatory-ness.

So to hit rock bottom as a loser, I took another loss and got the vaccine just now. (I’m writing this as I wait to not have an adverse effect.)

Why get it today? Because I’m tired of losing. So today I’m a loser twice-over. I’ve doubled-down on losing. The only way to go from here is up. (Umm, wait, that’s not right.)

Wish me luck.

I’d Bet China Loses

I started the next guided reading in the GBWW set tonight. It’s Montesquieu’s “The Spirit of Laws”.

Only a preface and a few paragraphs into it, and as is often the case, on my mind is the seeming unstoppable growth of the Caliphate, Islam. I read something excellent and think, “but this thought recorded here is not stopping the Taliban or the Muslims in Europe…”

Tonight, my thoughts drifted to China as my best bud is constantly confessing how horrible it is that America is becoming just like China. And I can hear my brother and his wife say, “Well, what’s wrong with China?”

Because I’m in no particular rush, I let the world’s merge and blur.

Let’s just join my brother and his wife and admit that America as we knew and loved is a relic relegated to history. The new America isn’t China exactly, but in its new state is surely not going to conquer China.

The new question is, “Would Islam conquer China?”

Neither China in reality, nor my newly minted America can call themselves Christendom. So who comes out ahead as the muslims don’t continue to borrow from China and China learns just how stubborn Mohammedans can get?

I mentioned to my pal, “I think I may go to the Muslim Center and see if I can rent space for a Bible study.”

He, a former US Marine Officer, actually warned me that I’d be putting myself in harm’s way.

My wife familiar with mooslims from life “back home” also suggested that I’d probably end up being followed around as I kept on living here in this town if I asked about renting space.

I’m not afraid of the Chinese. I think they’re political aim is just totally wrong (not freedom), but I’m not afraid of them.

But muslims? They are something else.

What do you think? Should I ask about renting the space?

What do you think? For fun, admit that with this recent experience of living under “abnormally bad decisions made by uncommonly weak leaders” or what you call “the pandemic”, we’re basically China here in the States. Then ask, does China stop Islam? Or Does Islam conquer China in the end?

In both cases (hypothetical as they may be) Christendom is on very unstable ground. And this makes me sad.

Another Way I Know I’m Right

The company I work for is waiting to mandate the vaccine until FDA approval. Good for them.

Universal masking is back as the order of the day at work. Again, good for them.

But now I see something I hadn’t before, as I read their recommendation to get tested if you have symptoms.

Why?

Seriously. Why get tested? There’s no treatment. And we’re not contact tracing. By finding out that you have COVID, what have you discovered? Does it make you feel better to pinpoint the issue? Are there scores of people feeling crummy that are still inserting themselves into others’ 6ft bubbles, just for fun?

Of course not.

But if you get tested, the data empowers the morons known as “humans” who are literally having orgasms as they read the Indo-Arabic numerals. So don’t do it, I say.

See, you or I read a numeral, say, 2,349, and nothing happens. No “initiative” as my wife’s broken English would say. Not even a twitch, as I might say, if I were to be vulgar. But for these power-hungry vessels which are completely void of God, full on climax occurs. Even this post and my inclusion of 2,349 above is being seen as a tease—like a personal ad of the 90s which had “WSM” would cause a teenage boy to think, “Really?”

The difference, of course, comes from how numerals do their thing. Unlike letter acronyms, which already have quite a range of meaning depending on context, numerals can mean anything. 2,349. I’m getting a bit hot just thinking about the possibilities. Maybe that’s how many sexual positions fake blondes can be bent into? Then again, it could be how many people were murdered in South Africa over the weekend. Hmm.

In any case, if we want to make a dent, maybe we assess that the problem is we (the public) are talking out of both sides of our mouths. We want the data-driven pandemic to be over but we keep creating the data. As stated in an earlier post, even watching a baby eat proves that you can’t have your cake and eat it, too.

If I wouldn’t have got tested, the only difference in my life is I would have 8 hrs more pay because the stupid policies surrounding workman’s comp and COVID jacked my shtuff up and I’m too lazy to keep trying to get my money. Oh well.

They’d Call Me a White Evangelical Who Won’t Voluntarily Get the Vaccine

I don’t believe masks work.

This is a simple claim that is as obviously true as ‘what goes up, must come down’, but it is also apparently the dumbest claim I could ever make these days. That I would assert it apparently reveals something very wrong with the way I am built.

The reason I don’t believe masks work is because of the word “work”.

Before last year, if we were flying a patient with Tuberculosis, we would don an N95 for the leg of flight with the patient on board. But before ever launching on that leg, we had been through our companies “fit testing” wherein the company and ourselves would use a tester and learn whether the mask actually sealed around my face. I don’t recall ever flying a patient with Tuberculosis, but I do recall believing that the N95, of my size, worked to keep me from contracting the disease.

It would be used for one flight. Maybe an hour long at the most.

Given that I am a pilot and not a clinician, to hang out around a Tuberculosis patient at length is just not my calling. In other words, I never considered long term mask use or if I would continue to work in an environment which required it.

Does an N95 or simple or cloth mask work to end a pandemic? Hmm. Let me think… no. How do I know? Because it hasn’t yet. And rather than pretend some hypothetical situation where everyone complies with my wishes is actually possible, I’ll just look around and state the obvious: the “pandemic” is not over. So wearing masks doesn’t work to end the pandemic. Next question.

It doesn’t end there, though. No. Somewhere along the way, by well-meaning folks with platforms, these folks attempted to hoodwink me into wearing masks by the reasoning that the mask was to save high-risk people from my unsuspecting transmission of the disease. “Put on the mask for love of fellow man.”

Then vaccines are created and the best message that Dr. Fauci’s team can develop to convince stubborn ol’ me to follow orders is, “Get the vaccine so you don’t die, Pete.”

Mask up for others, vaccinate for me. Got it.

But I still say, “No.” Or, “Not without some undue level of coercion.”

Why? And does my faith in Jesus Christ as captured by the social science label “white evangelical” have any correlation to my stance?

Let’s talk about that.

Simply put, I don’t believe masks work and I won’t voluntarily get the vaccine because I believe I have something to teach you.

You read that right. I believe I have something to teach you.

Get it? Understand?

(Picture me pointing at you). You believe you have something to teach me. You believe you know information that I don’t and you believe that I need to learn from you. Right?

(Now picture me pointing at me). Well, I believe, likewise, that I know information that you don’t and I believe that you need to learn from me.

I have noticed that your beliefs clog your ears, so I have concluded that I have to demonstrate my beliefs to your eyes.

One more time: I don’t believe masks work to end the pandemic. And I won’t voluntarily get vaccinated. The reason for my twin beliefs is that I believe that I have something to teach you.

I can freely admit that this situation, then, is similar, in method, to why I don’t become an apostate and renounce my faith in Jesus Christ at your bidding. Besides my fear of everlasting damnation being greater than my fear of enduring lackluster social shaming, besides my gratefulness for Jesus’ sacrifice for my sake, besides my awe at the daily display of God the Father’s Glory, besides the comfort of the Holy Spirit who indwells me at this moment, I also believe that I have something to teach you about life.

And in both cases, the pandemic and Christianity, my lesson is necessarily one of action. Unlike you, I have no theory, no models, no hypotheticals, only action.

As briefly as I can, then, the fact that I don’t believe masks work and I won’t voluntarily get the vaccine is my physical manifestation of the question: Will you learn from me?

Honestly, we all already know the answer in the pandemic sense is: ‘you’ll never learn.’ You will choose to live in fear until death.

In the Christian sense, it is possible that you will learn from me, or be willing to receive the gospel someday. But time is never on our side. And unfortunately, there is no escaping judgment. On that day, there will be no piece of paper or cloth big enough to hide behind. On that day there will be no data-driven model robust enough to be accepted by your maker. On that day one question alone will remain.

Jesus is going to ask you: “But who do you say that I am?”

I Love Focusing

I want to be clear about a couple things. Yes, I lie when it comes to the vaccine. I am not vaccinated and I do not wear a mask, even if I cross some magic boundary that suggests I am now at risk for killing people. So maybe you should get your third and fourth and tenth shot and quadruple mask. ‘Cuz I’m out there. Oooo.

This “little white lie” of mine isn’t going to hurt anybody, least of all kill them. And if I was to get vaccinated at this point, it would feed the bigger lie, being that my act of taking the vaccine saves the very lives of every person on planet earth. It doesn’t.

For context, I will add that my oldest friend got the vaccine because of social pressure at a university. He really believed his professors would somehow put a stop to his doctoral work if they found out he was unvaccinated. So rather than lie like I do, he chose to lie in a bigger way—that is, he chose to take a vaccine to please someone else. We fight ferociously about this choice of his whenever the topic comes up.

I will also add that when my job makes it mandatory to get the vaccine, I’ll get it. I make good money. It’s not a difficult decision.

And I’m sure that the mandatory-at-work thing is in the works, how could it not be?

That said, as I approach it, my focus has become clearer and clearer. And I love the feeling. I imagine that it’s like how gaining a superpower must feel.

Here’s why I won’t get the vaccine, put even more clearly: firstly, my doctor has never had a conversation with me and told me to get it (I haven’t spoken to any doctor about the vaccine ever). Secondly, the reason I am being told to get it by everyone but my doctor (who I don’t see because I’m not sick) is to save the entire population from dying. This is no joke. People are telling me that when I join them in getting vaccinated then life goes back to normal. People are telling me that my vaccine is so I don’t get other people sick.

No one is telling me, none of these people are suggesting that I get the vaccine so that I don’t die. Not one person has ever said that, my doctor or otherwise. No one. Not ever. Why? Because it’s a lie. And the chance of me getting Covid again and dying is meaningfully zero. This means I’ll be able to promptly call out their bullshit—and don’t miss this—and they know it!!

So they package their—get this—“attempt to avoid the reality of death” in a more palatable and completely unprovable, unmeasurable, and unbelievable manner by saying that the vaccine that goes into my body is about other people.

Nobody ever got a vaccine to save someone else. Unheard of. I won’t be a part of that nonsense. (I will, however, get a vaccine for my salary. Again, that’s an easy choice. Of course I can be bought. I’m not on some crusade to prove it’s possible to be poor.)

But as far as “do it for others”? That’s a lie. One big fat lie. And it’s told by cowards, as all lies are.

Want me to get the vaccine? Call my doctor and tell him/her (not really sure who my doctor would be) to recommend to me that I need the vaccine to save myself. Or you can keep lying and my work will cave to the zeitgeist for business reasons, as it’s forced to do by virtue of being a business.

The Future of America

My wife just passed her “interview” within the naturalization process. This was the last step, not counting the formal oath ceremony, along the road to citizenship of our beloved United States of America. As she accomplished this goal, (just for clarity—she began this process before we met—marriage to me has nothing to do with it), I couldn’t help but wonder, “What was the point?”

Practically speaking, the big benefit of citizenship is travel. As an Ethiopian, you can’t just travel at will. As an American, the world has no borders. Her mom can also come to America as near “immediately” as the world of immigration allows. And her son, my step-son, is now also a citizen. Good for him.

(If you aren’t aware, I wasn’t, a green card suffices for staying in America for ever, it just has to be renewed every 10 years, but there’s no chance it doesn’t get renewed. The travel element, again, is the great difference.)

(Or is it?)

My wife is very spiritual, within the biblical meaning of that word. She prays more in one day than most Christians I’ve met pray in a lifetime. She also knows the answers to the questions for the interview, but the spirit of GW doesn’t really live in her like it does me.

Yet, she’s excited she passed the interview.

For the first year of our marriage I assumed the citizenship thing was about her siblings back in Ethiopia. I figured/planned that once she was in, they’d be able to come over and my house would be full of life and injera for a few years. As time drew near, I learned that that isn’t the case at all. I learned that it’s a very long process to bring siblings over here. And, despite all the bad press about Ethiopia’s civil war and resultant human rights violations, her siblings are very proud of their country and want to live there forever.

To be “ho-nest”, I generally think my wife is a bit naïve to think that her citizenship means anything. And I think her siblings are simply nuts for wanting to stay in Ethiopia.

As for how Americans view our relationship, old people are nice to us, but with effort. Our peers are disarmed by us, assuming that our mixed-ness means something big about our focus in life, and they are very ready to approach us and expect to have a normal, nonthreatening conversation, like those of yesteryear. Young people don’t seem to notice anything but their screens.

As for me, I sought my wife because Ethiopia is called the “Island of Christianity”. Look it up. And the Muslims are already here. ‘Whatever flavor of Christianity she brings, it must be stronger than what we do in America,’ was my thinking. Jesus is more important than any political designations.

****

Biden has admitted to tracking online dissent, with the intent to silence it. A fool’s errand, firstly. Secondly, immoral on every level. But I can turn off this phone, turn off my laptop. I probably would be happier if I did. (I finally did start actively telling YouTube to stop recommending channels that only caused “I can’t believe this garbage is happening” reactions. Now I get broadcast/podcast microphone reviews, Jomboy breakdowns, and movie previews. Perfect.)

This small town we live in is inundated with Somalis. I’ve seen things with my own eyes that I cannot believe.

Fully covered women posing for their boyfriend at the lake, like they’re in a bikini.

Muslim centers packed on Fridays. Packed.

Little girls still wearing the gear.

Older youth girls still wearing the gear.

The Lutheran churches have an outreach ministry, if the yard signs can be trusted. But they suggest Ramadan is related to Passover and Easter.

****

The government is attempting to censor the internet. Islam is here and growing. I am no fear monger. I’m not afraid of Islam anymore than I’m afraid of a lie. You shouldn’t be either. The answer is know your Bible.

Now, I am also always on the lookout for a new political philosophy that accounts for current reality. As much as I love the classics, the situation has changed such that they do not suffice. Population size, to name one variable, is a completely new element and therefore unaccounted for in their theories.

What do I think about the future of America? I hope this post’s biographical content provides insight.

In short, I can turn off the internet.

I am powerless against invasion.

Packed.

Where Are You From?

Not too long ago, I heard that it was rude to ask a strange looking person, “Where are you from?”

The reason, so they said, was that that question implies an “us and them” situation. And this makes “them” feel uncomfortable.

Okay, I thought. I can adjust a bit. But, I won’t totally avoid the question and here’s why. If I ask, “Where are you from?” to someone who looks or sounds different than whatever norm I’m used to, I probably am right that they’re from somewhere exotic to our current location. They already know this fact. It is not a surprise to them that they didn’t grow up on Seinfeld and Sunday School.

And language is not math. So some burden of the conversation can be placed on their shoulders too. As in, if they are “Asian”, and yet were born in Houston, they surely could reply, “My parents are a mix of x, y, z but I grew up in Houston. How about you?”

In other words, the strange looking potential-respondent can understand the “you” to mean “whoever made you look strange to me” instead of trying to suggest they’re right as the mail.

It’s called effort. Try it.

They Chose To Be Slaves

You haven’t ever and won’t ever read Thomas Hobbes’ Leviathan. I just read a portion of it, being guided by the VOL 2 of the Great Ideas Program, my copy being from the Great Books of the Western World set.

Having read some of it, I want to use this post to offer one way in which to respond to BLM and all the other nonsense being spouted by BIPOC disciples. There are many ways to respond, though this may be the strongest.

I want to start with Paul. Concurrent to my reading of Leviathan, I had been reading Ephesians, and was shocked, like jaw-on-the-floor shocked, at what Paul said to the slaves he addressed. If you haven’t read it in a while, here’s the relevant part:

“Slaves, be obedient to those who are your masters according to the flesh, with fear and trembling, in the sincerity of your heart, as to Christ; not by way of eyeservice, as men-pleasers, but as slaves of Christ, doing the will of God from the heart.”

By relevant, I mean related to the question that I’ve heard for years now, “Why didn’t Jesus end slavery?”

As I read this part of Ephesians, I thought, “This is horrible. It’s way worse than just not ending slavery, it’s actually, in a weird way, defining slavery and basically validating it.”

At the seminary, professors and their unthinking adherents repeated something like, “We need to look at the biblical trajectory…” when discussing slavery and women preachers etc. That rings clear initially, but upon examination is just meaningless, multi-syllabic euphemism. Jesus didn’t end slavery. Fact. And here, in this passage, Paul addresses slaves directly, gives them a very real instruction, and, oh by the way, defines what a slave is–in case there was any doubt who he had in mind when he used the word.

Working backwards, according to Paul, slavery is forsaking your own will for another’s will. It’s not suicide. It’s living according to the will of another. And in this case, Paul teaches those whose will has been replaced (slaves) by another human’s will (the slave master), to get through their situation/life by treating the situation as if they were simply following the will of god, or the will of Christ. His reasoning? God/Christ is impartial. The slave-master who abuses this teaching will get his in the end. (Hell.)

On the off chance that there is any muddiness to this point, Paul also juxtaposes superficial obedience against true obedience, by the use of the wonderfully concrete language: “eyeservice”. All of us know the difference between looking like we’re working and working. And so did Paul. And, apparently, Paul thought the slaves did too. Why say it if slaves are just stupid, biologically determined humanoids of some kind? No, Paul spoke to the slaves in a dignified manner. No kid gloves here.

Main point for today’s post: Paul defines slavery as having to do with a replacement of will. This is to be regarded as an understanding without value-judgement on the situation. Is slavery wrong? Paul might answer, “It depends. Slavery to Christ is absolutely right. Slavery to some human may be right, but it may not be right.” But that’s just my speculation that helps make my bigger point.

Thomas Hobbes picks up this definition of slavery as he explains the origins of government. To begin, he says that there are two ways men end up being under a government: choice and conquest. One, men can either choose to place themselves under the leadership of one or a few other men. Or two, men can be conquered and be compelled to live under that government. Hobbes says that both ways are based on fear. In the choice way, men would choose government because men are afraid of each other and mutually want the security this outside agent would provide. In the conquest way, men end up under a government because they fear the government that conquered them.

Here’s where Hobbes really says something. Hobbes says that the captives, or conquered people, are captives so long as they are chained and in prison or under guard. And while in the status of “captives” the people are justified in returning violence to their captors, ie killing the guards and running away. But, but! Hobbes continues to describe that once the captives agree to not run away, to not attack the captors, they have now consented to slavery, defined as Paul does. The will of the government that conquered them replaces their will, just like the will of Christ, god, or the master of Paul’s letter might. Hobbes goes further and explicitly states that the conquering government has ultimate power over the slaves property, possessions, and children. Hear me, though. Hobbes says this all happens under the “fear of government” (conquered) reason for being ruled. Hobbes says, if you want to free yourself, you can try, but you’ll probably die. If you want to at least walk around and work etc, then you can live a life that is not your own. But at no point, Hobbes says, does the captive-turned-slave have the option of choice-based government.

I constantly tell one of my good friends, “Man, there is no way you or I would ever have allowed ourselves to become a slave. No way. It just wouldn’t happen. You couldn’t convince me it is even possible. No way. We’d fight. We’d die, rather than be a slave.”

And I mean it. Every time.

But I’m not the only human on the earth. And many other men and women have chosen to be slaves rather than fight and die.

Here’s the crux of the post: There is no systematic racism in America. America wasn’t founded on slavery. Whether within the jungles of Africa, or just on the coast, some people were conquered. Whether they knew they were conquered, whether there was an outright war that was lost, or whether they were just kidnapped, they were conquered. Beginning at that precise moment, the conquered people had a choice: fight/die or live for another’s will. Some chose to fight and die. However, it would seem that most chose to live according to another’s will, or what is the same, become slaves.

Two concluding thoughts then:

Jesus couldn’t have ended “slavery” anymore than he could’ve ended “hunger pangs” or “thirst”. Or “satiation” or “quench”, for that matter.

The African tribes who were conquered were conquered. It’s a tragedy. But afterwards, they chose to be slaves.

And now you know one response to all the race-related nonsense that has been leading headlines for our entire lives.

The African tribes who were conquered were conquered. It’s a tragedy. But afterwards, they chose to be slaves.

****

PS – I can feel my dad asking, “I don’t get how this response works?” Maybe you’re like him. Here goes, get ready to experience the inner-workings of my mind: The “they” are not alive anymore. Boo-ya! BLMers and BIPOC disciples can be mad as hell that “they chose to be slaves”. But they can’t deny the fact that they haven’t chosen to be slaves. What have they chosen then?

“They chose to be slaves.”

What do you choose?