Tagged: men
Round-About Way of Exposing the Inner-Most Thoughts of My Immigrant (And All Immigrants) Wife
My now-citizen, but through the notorious near-decade long legal process, wife (to be clear, nothing to do with yours truly or marriage) reported to me that her co-workers (immigrants themselves) are all ate-up with the incessant deportation news.
Picture with me a fancy hotel setting. You see everywhere all the BIPOC (some Europeans too) immigrant staff hustling and bustling to help management create the most amazing experience ever for guests, all the while you can overhear a discussion of politics is taking place when they believe they are out of earshot of anyone who would report it.
“Wait!” you say. “It sounds to me like they’re talking instead of working.”
I agree. But when I gave my wife the line, “I would start with, ‘First, right now we should be working…’ she insisted that they were working.”
So recall the picture. Talking AND working.
My wife reported to me that she was responding to the others’ fears and what I would call suckerdom with, “I have family back home, so if they sent me back, I would be fine.” And also, “But they won’t send me back because I am a citizen.”
According to her, the co-workers are under the belief that any immigrant—even those with permanent resident cards, which are green, and US citizens—are eligible for deportation. How stupid. But it is what it is.
How would I handle the discussion if I was her? Glad you asked.
“Firstly, we should be working right now. Working and talking is impossible, especially at the low wages we earn. My husband says he is paid to think, not to work. He talks at work. I don’t understand it, but I do understand his pay is far above ours.
“Secondly, do not answer any of these questions I am about to ask. I do not want to know the answers. Moreover, my goal is to give you confidence that you have nothing to fear. But if you answer the questions in a certain way, you may feel more fear. So please don’t answer them.
“Okay. Can you show me your green card? What is that word on the top? Permanent. That means that you never have to leave. Sure, there is paperwork to renew it every ten years, but that is just paperwork. No one leaves when they have a green card. Again, it’s in the name right on the card.
“If you don’t have a green card, surely you have some kind of visa. If that is you, you have made the choice to accept the risks involved with temporarily working here—to include having the visa revoked if you break your part of the agreement. So don’t break your part of the agreement. If I understand things at all, that pretty much means don’t lie. Like you, I don’t fully understand ‘telling the truth,’ but I believe it covers ‘show up to work as you said you would do and don’t commit crimes.’
“Now, if you have already committed crimes or are in work of a different nature than approved or whatever, I would be nervous. And I would suggest changing jobs back to a job that you got your visa to do.
“Lastly, I can tell you that these people are confusing to me. None of us will ever understand them. But they have cash.”
One Last Thought Before The Week’s Proper End
Smokin’ hot blondie Megyn Kelly read a killer’s journals into the podcast-o-sphere earlier this week. But that’s not the reason to care about such an odd pairing.
The reason to care is now that the Nashville shooter of 2023’s journals are public, any one of us can legitimately respond to a Woke, Leftie, Alphabet Mafia-type with, “You sound just like that mass shooter in Nashville. Get away from me.” With this you can cut through all the politics and get straight to the heart of the issue.
You can take it from me, or you can track down Mrs. Kelly’s podcast yourself. I suppose you can also read the journals quietly to yourself. But rest assured, the chick (yes, the shooter was a girl) wrote the playbook for the Left in her journal(s) of reasons. It’s messed up.
A Downright Mean (But Not Mean-Spirited) Observation
It occurs to me near constantly, when it comes to relationship problems, “I am so right!” Nearly every marital issue could be solved by implementing some kind of “rule” or process. Get it? The disagreements all stem from each of us wanting our own way. (This is a given.) But the very idea (only ever presented by yours truly) that we compromise and/or put a “rule” or “plan” into place is so foreign to my non-Western wife that all I can do is assert the following observation:
If my non-Western (code for African) wife ever were to triply 1. See the value of “rules” or “plans” 2. Implement them and 3. Execute them, then all war (civil and otherwise) currently spanning the globe would end in the same instant—the two events are inextricably linked.
But it ain’t never happening.
It is still to be determined whether the hangup—be it blindness, stubbornness, or laziness—is genetic (some level of biology) or vindictive (“What does (s)he want?” “Revenge.” “For what?” “For being born.”) or proverbial (“can’t teach an old dog new tricks”). For what it’s worth, my money is on “all of the above”.
We will see.
Irritants of the Past Few Days
My daughter got a singing Moana doll as a gift. The doll says absolutely stupid things. To start, Moana suggests that her people have been ocean explorers (“We must sail to the far seas”). Yeah, exploring oceans in a canoe which never left sight of land. Then she has a line which says, “The stars lead us to where we want to go.” Again, the Moana’s of the world have never navigated their tiny islands or narrow coastlines via the stars. Gimme a break. Finally, she says something about “We’re all part of the land and sea. It’s who we are; it’s who we’re meant to be.” I’d already passed boiling point, but with this the folks at Disney seem to lose all distinction between bringing classic European fairy tales to life, a la Cinderella, Snow White, and Beauty and the Beast among many others (Pinocchio), and inventing fairy tales whole cloth for tribes who never wrote any down—and likely didn’t have any to begin with. In other words, folks, if you think all the peoples of Planet Earth are composing compelling music, telling remarkable stories, and relentlessly exploring the planet, then you are a fool.
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People do not “forget” the truth they were once taught. I have this hardbound collection of early Berenstain Bears stories and one of them is, “He Bear She Bear.” It is remarkable in its simple and inoffensive presentation of the facts of life. No alphabet mafia folk had been read this book as a child and then concluded at a later date, “No. No, that’s not right.” Instead, Berenstain Bears became tired, lost their en vogue status, and then went the way of the dodo. This is the way all truth is “forgotten”—boredom and displaced proportionality.
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You cannot grasp the “bully” nature of illiterate people until you live with them. They bully because they have no other recourse. It’s sad, but true.
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My mother shared with me that my immediate family members and likely their spouses are tired of me portending to be the only one with ideas. I share with you that my immediate family members and their spouses never read books. I believe it was Booker Washington who pointed out that those who can’t read and those who don’t read are one and the same. My brother and his wife tour the world to see the historical locations of everyone whose ideas I read about and would love to chat about. These two come back and report what tour guides told them. In my opinion, it’s worse than tribes who lived only with oral tradition because they think they are living it up. All they are really doing is anarchy.
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Books, for me, are a map, no different than a VFR Sectional or Low IFR Chart. I can’t tell you where you are on the map, indeed that is not my job (or anyone else’s). But given that I have a map and you do not, I can discern quite simply that you’re lost. It is your job as a literate person to determine where you are.
On The Immigrant
In the past, freely pursued immigration seems to have occurred for the singular purpose of “a better life.” Part of this purpose is discerned because of the sacrifices made and risks assumed for the travel from one location of Earth to another. As an American, I cannot shake the terribly, if not necessarily regular, dangerous ocean crossing from my conception of my ancestors and their desire for “a better life.” (Other parts of the world have similar barriers.) Seamen live risky lives for cash. Immigrants did not.
The immigrant of today, however, does not come to America (or Europe) for “a better life”. Rather, it must be assumed that the immigrants of today must prove in short order that they have made the move for “a better life.” If they don’t prove it, then we know they are here for destruction.
Why? What’s the difference? Put simply, the near risk-less and sacrifice-less transportation technology has, unfortunately, weakened the immigrant.
You get on a plane. You arrive. If you don’t like it, you get back on the plane, and you are home. No risk. No sacrifice. No bravery. No display of uncommon character qualities. Worse, the immigrant presents a full display of ignorance, a full display of greed, a full display of unwillingness to adapt to foreign cultures. Why do they come? Hollywood, fantasy, grass is greener, cash, exceedingly limited notions of cultural disparities that they don’t wish upon their children. I could list others. My claim is this, mind you: no reasons on the list would fall into “help America” or “help Americans” type categories, the likes of which “a better life” would necessarily entail.
The immigrant came because it was easy for them. Whether they want a better life remains to be determined.
Why does this updated assessment matter? Because the truth matters.
Why should you believe the ol’ Captain? Because you don’t have an immigrant in your life and I have one in my house.
My Sister Said We Should Sacrifice Everything to Marriage—and That This Is Biblical
My sister said we should “sacrifice everything to marriage—and that this is Biblical.”
Do you agree?
Sounds like a woman’s perspective to me.
She also said, relating to perspective during troubling times, “I think about when I yell at the kids and then imagine, god forbid, if someone dies soon after, and how would I feel? Was it necessary or just nitpicking?”
As an EMS pilot and former combat pilot, I promise that I have thought more about death and regrets than any non-pilot.
Here’s what I think.
I want to live a life that demonstrates to any who knew me—family, friends, co-workers—that they knew a (Pinocchio voice) real boy. I am not a sheep, I am not a drone, I am not a robot.
Did you get offended by me?
-That’s not my problem.
Did you disagree with me?
-You would, because you’ve never even considered the issue.
Did my personality rub you wrong?
-Well, what did you expect from a person? And where did you ever get the idea that people “get along”?
On the topic of marriage, no. No to both. The Bible never says sacrifice all (here read the practical parts of life: financial stability, children’s care, friendships, truth, fact-based systematic reasoning) for marriage. But more, and I know the full scope of what I am suggesting here, the Bible never even gives a portrait of a desirable marriage.
Exhibit A: No woman on Earth in 2025 wants to be ruled by her husband, as scripture suggests is the design of the hierarchy.
Exhibit B: Adam and Eve
Exhibit C: Moses’ marriages. Abraham’s marriage. In fact, all OT marriages.
Exhibit D: Jesus was single. Paul was single. And there is really no part of any NT letter or Gospel which highlights some marriage.
(I am suggesting my sister’s understanding is untenable, not that the Bible is invalid or uninspired etc.)
What to do?
For starters, finish the post. Then file the advice away in the archives under “probably not worth contemplating further” and get on with life.
Two Similar Dreams Last Night
The first dream was solely and plainly focused on mountain lions (and black panthers). In essence, everyone was comfortable with young and old wild mountain lions and black panthers walking around their kids. Everyone, that is, except yours truly. I can’t remember if I successfully killed any or not, but I was in the “they need to be killed” camp for certain.
The second dream was similar, except the animal was snakes. And the setting was work. And this time I did kill two of them. There were four in the dream total, but even in the dream I could not account for where the other two went. And the last one I killed was essentially encased in a pickle jar the size of the large orange puff snack jars. But when I cut through the jar (and also the snake), the pickle juice type liquid got everywhere and this was the sticking point between my co-workers and I. They didn’t want me making such a mess.
As far as the first dream, a couple days ago I had been talking mountain lions and watching videos on them. So that is easy and plain. I also listened to a podcast on prison gangs yesterday. This naturally and necessarily includes the phrase “black panthers”. So their addition to the scene is easy to account for.
The second dream makes sense given I have, also recently, told of my exploit to kill a snake that was on the seminary campus years ago—a snake that no one else thought needed termination. Add the biology room scenes from any of the Alien films or comics that I have been immersed in and you can easily see both the pickle jar/suspension fluid and “missing snakes” aspect.
Whew! Almost done.
The striking thing, however, is not easily addressed. And it is the most interesting part of trying to see if there is any meaning in these dreams. Both dreams, and many, many other dreams of mine, include a threat that only I recognize as such. Also, I usually am not successful at “ending the threat”, to speak generally.
Years ago I assessed this powerlessness as the Biblical God showing me that “it’s not my fight”. Essentially, “Relax!”
Whether or not that is true, this morning it was the “only one who recognizes the threat” part that stands out. This is probably because, firstly, I don’t feel unnecessarily ate up, like I felt when I was in seminary learning how ridiculously lay-Christians interpret the Bible—God bless ‘em. Secondly, I have relaxed since then; in other words, I took the advice and have relaxed. So why have the same message?
No. There’s something else to be learned.
I can’t help but mention that in the movie Heat the thief has a recurring dream. And the meaning. But this recurrence doesn’t stop the dream nor meaningfully take effect.
The Biggest Lie You Believe Today
I’m a Baptist. If the Baptist denomination could be summarized in one pithy sentence, it would be, “Baptists believe there are no more priests.”
Naturally this conjures up images of bloody sacrifice and robes, but that is not the sense I mean.
By “priest”, I don’t mean “leader”. I simply mean “humans with special access to knowledge.”
Moses was a priest. David was a priest. Adam was a priest. Cain was a priest. Jesus was a priest. Peter was a priest. John was a priest.
In the past, a very select few men and women were priests. But that time is long gone.
With me?
Augustine wasn’t a priest. Nor Aquinas. Nor any pope. Nor any pastor or bishop or, laughably, prophet of today. These men and women who entitle themselves as such DO NOT have special access to knowledge.
What is the aforementioned “biggest lie”? You believe that the experts of today are “priests” in the sense that I have outlined above.
Fauci. Biden. Harris. Hawking. Tyson. Dawkins. Hitchens. JRE. Trump. Peterson. Winfrey. Obama. You believe these people have special access to knowledge. They do not.
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Some anecdotes to further persuade you:
After dropping a patient at the receiving hospital, I usually head to the EMS lounge. Inside you’ll find snacks and a place to sit. Often, there are policemen typing up their reports on their indestructible laptops. I have reminisced with these guys about how, when measured by time, more time is spent writing than being a “cop”. Everyone chuckles and agrees and then they fervently resume typing.
The same goes for the clinicians. Half an hour with a patient results in at least twice as much time on paperwork and documentation.
I went to a locksmith proper the other day and while there asked him, “What do you actually do all day?” His answer? “Drive around. All I do is drive to people who are locked out.”
I am certain that you can add to this list of apparent vs. real work yourself.
Do you see how it applies?
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We give away so much power to others because we believe the lie that they have special access to knowledge.
The policeman isn’t super-powered. He does what his boss tells him, and also can read and write. The nurse does what her boss tells her, and reads and writes. The locksmith opens locks and drives around—not much reading and writing. The physicist looks at light through prisms or their equivalents and reads and writes. The mathematician rearranges ink on paper or characters on screens until he is pleased and reads and writes.
There is no such thing as a general scientist anymore. But if there was, they would admit that they spend the most of their time reading what others have written—which is likewise available to you and me.
I implore you, faithful reader. Stop believing the lie. Convert to Baptist. Life is far more beautiful and meaningful when you keep the power. You’re not stupid. They’re not smart. Instead, they have been lying to you. And you have been believing the lie.
Feels Like I’m Just Losing When It Comes To Cars
Financing used cars is the only way to go right now. But when any mechanical issues appear, the monthly payment skyrockets. Add Colorado insurance prices—and the raison d’etre—and driving a car at all becomes obscenely expensive.
I’m just coming off a false alarm “you need a new engine” on one vehicle, and a totaled-out second vehicle. This wreck was fortunate in a way because it was a high-mileage rust bucket. We got more from the kid’s insurance than we ever would have even as a trade. Yet, the plan was to keep it until the step-son needed wheels, at which point he gets the old car and, well you know the story. Now who knows when he’ll start driving.
Now this newer (still a 2017) used car seems to have a leak. Maybe it’s a fluke. I’ll find out soon enough. But it puts me in a foul mood.
I just want to read, you know? The toddlers are in bed. I just want some reading time.
Too tired for Hawking’s “A Brief History of Time.” Not even in the mood for an early X-Men comic. There’s always a Jack London freezing Alaska tale, but not tonight.
Anyhow, I have my stupid rule about reading at least a chapter from the Bible before anything else. Hmm. I’m in Two Chronicles (ha). It’s actually not terrible because of its summarizing. It is kinda nice to breeze through the history so quickly, from such a high-level, AND know that it’s still the Word of God.
I feel better already. Probably gonna hit the next chapter on that and then see about Hawking.
Oh well. Going snowshoeing with the toddlers tomorrow.
One day at a time.
Urge is Returning
I haven’t felt like writing much of late. It wasn’t writer’s block that stopped me. I always have plenty to say. It was the fact that you’re not supposed/allowed to share patient data and so I couldn’t say much more than I did about my last work week. And then, while I often like myself better because I indulge in providing the forever internet precise examples of the terrible realities of marriage, sometimes I just can’t keep sharing them, which, yes, implies last week was doubly rough. So those two things kept me quiet.
But.
I just clicked on a video of Kamala stumping to some thespians and the way she gets to her point is to say, “Nature abhors a vacuum.”
I mentioned in earlier posts that I would someday give my reasons for reading the Great Books of the Western World (and classics in general). Immediately, then, fulfilling my vow came to mind. After all, Pascal is the “great” who singlehandedly took down this claim that “nature abhors a vacuum.” How? By treating it earnestly. He merely asked, “How can nature have a feeling?” (It is totally appropriate to think, “That’s it?” Yes. That’s it. We, all of us, have a duty to call out confusing assertions—though giving the benefit of the doubt to the author is always the best until you are certain they mean what you initially thought.)
See how that works?
But then (getting back to me and my desire to make a small contribution to this world) I thought, “So what are you trying to say? That the Great Books are necessary to know she is a moron?” To which I answered, “Good point.”
I don’t know how any knowledge of Pascal is needed to recognize how stupid Kamala Harris is. However, if pressed, I could admit that knowing Pascal and how that particular phrase really did motivate him to end one strain of stupidity may be valuable when talking to an educated (at least a proper Bachelor’s) Harris supporter. The tactic being, “You know Pascal destroyed that notion which was previously holding science back, right? Nature doesn’t love or hate. It doesn’t emote or have purpose. You do know that, right?”
But on the whole, I can admit I just get excited when I see morons more clearly than before. It’s like the clarity is exciting, not the ugly picture.
Anyhow. The urge to write is returning. Not quite back. But this is feeling good.
As a parting gift, here is some Pascal.
Captain’s Log 