Tagged: life
Response to Castro’s “Americans Don’t Know Who Latinos Are” New Yorker Podcast
Mr. Castro was interviewed on the “New Yorker” podcast the other day. This title was very provocative to me, so I gave it a listen as I exercised. It’s only 20min long.
The main charge he makes to prove his thesis is, “Can you name three latinos who had had a significant impact in American history?” He explains that he asked this to a very high placed school administrator.
The problem with the exchange, as described in the interview, is that Castro doesn’t account for the current political climate as he reveals that the administrator sheepishly admitted that he couldn’t.
Conversation 101: Whoever is asking the question has the power. Read your Bible if you don’t believe me. If you are in an important conversation and asked a question, answer with a question. If it’s a good question, the momentum will shift in your favor.
The administrator, by answering the question, already loses. Instead, he need have—and this can be done charismatically if need be—only flipped the question on Castro and asked, “Can you?” And then when Mr. Castro posits the name, the administrator (or you or me) interrupts as he takes notes slowly, to say, “Excuse me, but could you go slower. What did he do? Uh-huh. Got it. Yeah. Funny how I never heard of him. Must’ve been some genius.”
On this specific topic, the truth is—and all Americans know this deep down—Latinos don’t know who Americans are. And most Latinos probably never will.
Americans do not care about skin color. Americans do not care about ancestry. Americans do not care about how much hardship you overcame. Americans do not care about your current struggles. Americans do not care about your hopes and dreams. Americans do not care about Hollywood representation. Americans do not care about Latinos. Americans do not care about Blacks. Americans do not care about Whites.
Americans are not superficial. Americans are not trendy, and they are not trending. Americans cannot be cancelled. Americans cannot give up. Americans do not have DNA. Americans do not have an accent, they do not have a dialect.
Americans do not have mothers. Americans do not have fathers. Humans cannot create an American anymore than we can create purple mountain majesty.
Americans don’t know who Latinos are? Wrong, Sir. Wrong.
You want me to name three Latinos who had a significant impact on America? While I’m thinking, can you name three Americans who you don’t consider as your personal heroes?
The only people who have a significant impact on America are Americans. Next question.
Imitation Is The Sincerest Form Of Flattery
Did Mayor Pete and Chasten both contract COVID-19? Does anyone know?
I’m only asking because I just saw a pic of them in the hospital. They didn’t look sick, but it’s possible they only have it mildly.
Then again, they were holding babies and I think it is illegal for people with COVID-19 to hold babies.
Hmm. Must be some other reason for their visit. Anyone know?
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.
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.
My Best Friend Hates Me and Wants Me To Shut Up
Naturally, he is going to disagree with this headline. That’s fine.
Naturally, this disagreement is half the point.
I wrote a post yesterday, “In Defense of the Dark Ages.” It was lucid, it was clear, and it was to the point. Consequently, my bff disagreed with it.
I suppose I should include the detail that my bff has taken to calling himself a “professional historian” of late. (Back when I was growing up, we were taught, “starving artist”. Kids these days.) We spent about, oh, eight hours or more texting about all things disagreeable about my “grandiose pronouncement” (a unflattering tendency of mine).
In the end, after a bad night’s sleep (anyone else fight with their spouse when something good like free money happens at random?) I realized my friend was right. I did defend the “dark ages”. But the real truth, the fullest truth is that I defended the historical view (one of many) that there was a “dark age”. God forbid. And a proper blog post by a professional historian in 2020 (which I am evidently not) would’ve admitted this nuance. In other words, I displayed the fact that I am an ignorant bigot, racist, and probably, at least indirectly, responsible for all that is wrong in the world.
So here’s my correction post. I do admit I mis-titled my post. I should have called it, “In Defense of My View of History—AKA the Right View.”
Because it is the right view, including the void Dark Age and all.
When it comes to history, The West is my hill to die on, or as the kids say, my “ride-or-die”.
And just like that! The muse has left. Suddenly, this claim doesn’t feel compelling anymore. Signs of the times, I suppose.
In Defense of the Dark Ages
The other day I was on a video conference and while we were awaiting the leader, I took a moment to sell my “Great Books of the Western World” set. I do this any chance I get. These books are fantastic. Anyhow, the most intriguing part of the set is the concrete evidence of the so-called “Dark Ages”. Sitting between Augustine (vol 18) and Aquinas (vol 19) is a whole lotta nuthin’. That’s about 600 years of “darkness”. I find that nothingness exceedingly compelling.
Anyhow, while waiting, this lady says something that I’ve heard my whole life—without seeing a single shred of evidence—like, “I thought we’ve found that there really was plenty written by other cultures during that time.”
I said something like, “Nope”
Now, she thought she had the upper hand and she struck with something like, “So then why do people say that?”
I said, “Well, essentially, it’s just a lie.”
This never goes over well. Oh well.
Today I wanted to clarify my thoughts and record them for posterity.
If you don’t think the Dark Ages existed, you’re not just saying, “I think recent archeological enterprises have resulted in unearthing writings from between 400AD to 1000AD.” You’re actually saying, (without having even submitted one entry into the written record), “I know more than every human being who has lived since Augustine.” In other words, you’re saying, “My thoughts deserve to be in the Great Books,” despite having not even written them down.
Too strong? Don’t believe me? Allow me to explain.
It’s not just that some editor left out recently discovered writings, it’s that every other author whose genius (unlike yours) has made the world turn and given you almost every thought that you ever have or ever will have conceived left them out.
The negative claim that there was a “dark age” is not limited to a “dark age” for the West, unlike the positive claim that the Great Books of the Western World is limited to the “West”. It is about a “dark age” for human genius. And human genius, by definition, requires permanent results. And permanence is found in one of two ways—directly and indirectly. Directly, the genius is still in play. (Socrates’ skepticism, Trojan Horse, and “Oedipus’ complex” to name a few early ones.) Indirectly, the genius inspired other genius. (Euclid’s Elements > Space X’s reusable rockets. Even if Euclid stops being taught, his (and others’) ideas in the “Elements” can never be forgotten so long as we’re more technologically advanced than mankind was in 300BC.)
In any case, consider the pride in, “I thought we found writings during that period,” before you utter it. I really don’t believe that you intend to be so vain.
That’s the lasting beauty of the Great Books. To criticize them, you have to either willfully ignore them or submit your own entry. The danger in ignoring them is being played out as we live and breathe through masks in the West. The danger in submitting your own entry is public humiliation.
To be sure, the “Dark Age” was real.
New Clarity On When The Fighting Will Begin
Not too different than normal, this post’s impetus is the lack of truth from any and all conservative pundits. Faithful readers will recall that, recently, my posts have explored my new understanding that John Locke’s role was as “War Inciter” (not just philosopher), as well as included some of my own hints or foreshadows of coming unrest. I don’t write these things to stake claim in knowledge of the future, but because I believe in being prepared. To be prepared for more of the same requires no writing, no thought, no words. People tell me what to do and where to be and I comply. But to be prepared for war requires definitions of terms and clearly stated objectives at the least, and these require some diary/blog entries. So here’s another.
This mask business, of late, has been effectively screaming into my ear that the real problem is psychological, not concrete. My evidence is that no one has been arrested (not for simply not complying) for not wearing a face covering at the appropriate time and place. The viral videos include ridiculous shouting matches and other nonsensical elements such as, “You don’t need those actual products to live a very, very good life! You started the fight. Admit it. And don’t start it again if you don’t want to engage in it—which would mean some obvious plan to achieve the outcome you desire.” To my thinking, this means that they—these viral videos which convey, on the surface, a great injustice to liberty—should be disregarded. They are irrelevant.
In my own out-of-my-house travels, I have noticed that there are some folks, at the number of one or two at a time in any location, who quietly go about their business without a mask. The local HyVee had a couple, both wearing clothing which was a healthy mix of biker/Proud Boy don’t-mess-with-us-today signaling, complete their shopping without a mask. Then, at a convenience store, I saw an older man (50s) pay for his gas (to probably the fourteenth 20 year old happy-to-receive-attention blondy in the last 5 years) without a mask—and it did not cause a commotion.
I include these observations in order to make my point that no one who follows the common sense indications can actually claim the mask is mandated by the government—despite the vocabulary choices of the messaging. In other words, if you don’t want to wear the mask, then you don’t have to. Experience proves that if you are confronted, nothing viral will happen if you stay silent, acknowledge to yourself that you knew it was a provocative act that you had engaged in, and then de-escalate the situation in one of the several approved methods—leave, put on a mask, tell jokes, befriend the person etc.
None of this, of course, answers the most pressing question that should be on your mind, being, “What do you do, Pete?”
I wear the mask.
“Aww, Pete, why? I thought you surely would be the one to lead us into the light and out of the darkness.”
Well, I may. But it’s not happening today. Short answer: I have some debt to take care of before I can lead. Or, since this is a diary entry, to speak freely, I have some debt to take care of before the day that my detractors believe that my illusions-of-grandeur will come crashing down.
Over the last decade I’ve worked both ends of the spectrum. I’ve had crummy minimum-wage jobs and I’ve had good-paying jobs. It’s been quite an adventure, really. But while I putzed around in the low income arena, I accrued some debt—naturally—and I’m real close to being out from under it. And on that day, couple years from now, the mask comes off.
Keep in mind, I believe that this coming or already present “fascism” and this “dictatorship” and this “socialism” that pundits warn us about can only ever have psychological power over us, and so I expect that—as stated above—I will actually just experience nothing that I haven’t already experienced living my life among you, which can be summarized as people wondering if I was homeschooled. I will likely have to arrange for some home delivery or carry out grocery options, but besides that, I don’t expect an inconvenience. (I’ll naturally do whatever work wants me to do—mask—while there because…that’s worth the money/lifestyle. Flying is pretty rewarding and I’ve done a lot more than put on a mask to achieve the trust of those who approve me for flight. This is a no-brainer.)
But I have resolved that I will gladly be one of the first to get arrested for not wearing a mask, once my affairs are in order. (I can’t stress enough that I do not believe this incarceration will ever happen.) I’ll gladly be the first because I do believe that if, in a couple years, citizens are being arrested for not wearing a mask, then the only morally correct path is inciting war. And while other more compelling writers will have emerged to incite you all into war, real folks—like me—will have to demonstrate character, resolve, perseverance, goodwill, integrity, and courage on the “street” level.
I repeat, for clarity, I believe that no state or federal agencies in the US will ever incarcerate people for not wearing masks. I believe that business owners who have complied with shutdowns and whatnot will eventually pushback and find that they are not arrested when they reopen according to whatever their instinctive, intuitive, and individual money-making strategies dictate. I believe quality of life expectations in the USA will have shifted, but not actually devolved into war. There will be a “blah” sentiment. Not the best life, but all things considered, not even close to misery, we’ll all admit, while some wear and some do not wear the mask.
To wrap it up nicely, I am frustrated that the conservative pundits are so out of touch. There is no possible future whose arrival we should fear. To prepare for war is not wrong, but that’s not what they even claim to be doing. And to prepare for living in a state of war, starts with action, not words. For me, that begins by placing my own affairs in order, preparing my own affairs, and only after I am squared away in these supposedly deteriorating political conditions will I start the fight. (If I can’t achieve “squared away” that’s either on me or the government, and if the government is the reason, that’s obviously a problem only war solves.) Finally, I believe that my lifelong ability to remain in the mainstream of life (I only wish I was homeschooled) means that when I fight, you’ll fight with me. And conversely, if I never fight, then there will be no fight.
From where I sit, then, the future is looking good.
My Depressing Fantasy
I’ve been following my own advice and spending quite a bit of time watching fantasy movies and reading fantasy books. I should clarify here that I mean romance more than fantasy. All the normal bounds of the time space universe apply. Most recently, I watched the new Costner entry, “Let Him Go.”
These films and books fulfill their purpose just fine. However, as I fancy myself a serious blogger/writer type who could compete with those who perform on the world stage—if only I had the ambition—I often challenge myself to come up with my own take on the genre. What is my fantasy? I don’t mean, “What do I think would sell?” Or, “What do I perceive other people dream about?” No, I mean that I challenge myself to add my own fuel to the warm “good guys win” feeling that I enjoy as I see evil mother-effers reap it and good men be rewarded with beautiful, virtuous women.
Here’s the gospel truth. My fantasy centers on the children I’ve been charged by god with raising to become good men and good women.
The fiction begins with an argument. My character espouses wisdom, in a much too passionate volume. There may even be a hint of what psychologists call “contempt”. My children consistently reply with overly self-righteous bull honkey. Soon after, I kick them out of my house for crossing the line. (I haven’t resolved in which manner they cross it, whether they mindlessly repeat the slander of George Washington, Jesus, me, or one of my military buddies. But I imagine that they say something absolutely retarded and untrue and so they’ve got to go.)
Next, I imagine I resign completely from life. I become a veritable hermit.
Then the world burns.
As for me, I nimbly and deftly survive and do so in style. Eventually, others hear of an older man (they say he was a pilot, back before the Green Skies law) always staying one step ahead of the new troubles brought about by stupid young people. The Captain is suddenly whispered as if the title itself means hope.
Did you hear the latest about The Captain?
I heard The Captain has been planning something big for some time now. He’s got to be getting close.
All the while, in the hands of my children, the world burns.
But then the careful reader and viewer begin to notice new expressions on the faces of The Captain’s, by now, adult children—themselves leaders of the supposed revolution. The faces betray, finally, a wise hesitation. One might almost say the progeny appear, for the first time in their life, uncertain.
Skip to the end, and readers all rejoice as I, The Captain, am unable to outpace my children who are on their way to warn me—themselves being only one-step ahead of their pals who are coming to kill me. The reunion, made all the more compelling by the contrast between painfully slow scenes of family reconciliation and scenes of unabated, furious chase by the enemies, is only long enough for one phrase to pass.
“Father, you were right.”
Having uttered these noble words, they turn to find our mutual enemies have caught up to us. Despite our unified slaying of a significant number of them, they kill us all, saying, “Remember, orders are to kill The Captain and all of his diseased blood!”
****
Yup. It’s not family happiness that I dream about—that seems utterly hopeless in our current world. Instead, I long for vindication from the mouths of my children before I die.
Get Up! Move Faster!
“I don’t think you’re accurately accounting for the level of vanity involved in the people who translate ancient (or for that matter contemporary) texts.”
That’s what I should have said. Instead, I indulged myself in a fruitless, ground-losing defense of the character of translators. I think my big claim was, “Trust me. These people get it right!” Fizzle.
Why was I talking about translating ancient texts? Because I was talking about the unparalleled world of reading that opens to a human that learns one language—English—as being superior to the notion of achieving some sort of highly inefficient, multi-cultural divinity because of speaking two or more languages.
My partner in the conversation was, naturally, repulsed by this placement of English on a pedestal. Her devotion to sounding welcoming of all peoples and tongues was so blinding that she couldn’t even see that it’s English that gives us the access to all peoples and tongues (or at least those who have had anything to say that’s worth repeating). There’s no Arabic translation of Shakespeare spreading through the Middle East.
Oh well. Now I know. Live and learn.
Rhetorical tip o’ the day: Go with what keeps the conversation interesting and plays into putting the moron on the defense of whoever I’m trying to defend.
“You can’t blame Trump supporters for their zeal. They were beaten into stupors by white supremacists as children. A child can’t recover from that.”
“Well, you know, pro-lifers haven’t really been exposed to other ideas and cultures. Especially the ones claiming female gender. They’re basically enslaved to their holy book, incapable of escape. Pro-life is their hijab.”
“Many of the men supporting gun ownership are actually just compensating for their sterility, which they contracted due to PTSD, either from A. essentially being drafted—due to their poverty—to fight America’s illegal wars, or from B. their having witnessed gruesome animal torture on hunting trips with local hate groups at a young age.”
Yep. Those would nicely tee up even the nimblest leftist rhetorician for slaughter.
Can’t trust translators. Puuh. What an empty statement.
I’ve Struck It!
I’ve struck it. Eureka! I finally have a narrative that satisfies. It’s perfect. It’s coherent. It’s complete.
The American dream, the American way of life, requires agreement. It cannot be imposed. It cannot be forced.
For the last few months, like everyone else, I have been struggling with the way the fringe movements, the radicals, have somehow taken over the news cycle and captivated us all. I can’t understand how illiterate blacks (culture, not skin color) could put out a written mission statement on a website (“talk to text” maybe? Idk). And I am perplexed by the “patriot” type groups who spend their small fortunes on fingerless gloves and beard trimmers.
But now I’ve finally come across something that explains it all. (Thanks, John C. Calhoun.) America requires, as a necessary and sufficient cause, the agreement of the people.
No National Guard troops can maintain America. No police force in riot gear. No chanting, whether metered, rhyming or deity-invoking or not. No umbrellas. No N95s. No vaccines. Nope, no element of force will do the trick here in America.
Other, perhaps all other, types of government, types of countries, can be maintained through force. But not ours. Not America.
Why, then, are we seemingly headed towards disaster, month after month? Because we don’t agree to America anymore. The blacks (culture, not skin color) don’t agree to receiving gifts. The patriots don’t agree to being taught history by the illiterate blacks (culture, not skin color).
The inevitable question this realization leads to is, “How do we achieve agreement again?” And that question hinges on, “What in the world do we believe the future holds anyhow? Flying cars? Cures? Mars?”
Many educated Americans point to China as the way of the future (after all, they still wear masks on public transit—no complaints). Many blacks (culture, not skin color) point to Wakanda (or are the protests literally all going to end if a handful of policemen are in jail?).
In other words, without the future, we’re in a tight spot.
As your captain, I’d offer that the future must be a successful landing. To do that, we have to truthfully assess the condition of the atmosphere and decide if we have enough fuel to reach our original destination (life, liberty, and pursuit of happiness). If not, we need to head to our alternate (the hope that our children will be the right skin color when full lawlessness officially breaks out–Rwanda-style).
To BLM: I won’t overlook lies to save a handful of American lives—not sure if this is hard to understand, but some things are more important than life. Truth is one of them.
To Patriots: I can’t commit. But please email me if you decide to change which flag means “same team”.