Tagged: men
Completing Blacks’ Translation of Blacks to Whites in a Way Only a Literate White Could Do
So this HS Track stabbing murder is still on my brain. There is a YouTube channel which consists of Black twin brothers reacting to the passing scene. In effect, they are comedians who specialize in highlighting the constant, loud, but relatively small, tom foolery of the Black Community.
Most recently in this murder case, the attorney held a press conference. As the thing unfolded, the Twins began to recognize and highlight what anyone would recognize—that it was essentially a paid advertisement for some new johnny-come-lately BLM type group.
Here’s the particular additional factor that I, and only someone with my resume, can add to help even these Twins understand more fully what we all witnessed taking place.
The reason the attorney repeats the name of his organization four hundred times throughout the press conference is because the Black Community, as a group, is still operating on oral tradition. If his intended audience doesn’t memorize the name of the organization in that moment, he will never see it blossom into whatever he believes it should and can become.
I know, I know. You want to tell me that Whites or Western Civilization aims for memorability too. But that is not what I mean. What I mean is that when these things happen, we’re (literate Whites) watching Old Testament or pre-literate or illiteracy in action. They are not just “us” but “different”. They’re actually not us. They are actually different.
The reason I write this is I believe only once we understand this fact have we obtained the almighty truth without which we have no foundation from upon which to act.
How An Old Eagle Scout Gives A New Eagle Scout A Knife
I don’t really have a relationship with my nephew who is a graduating HS senior. Without directly asking my sister why she got him involved in Boy Scouts, I imagined the answer to be fairly obvious and plain: she saw how it helped me in life, both with enjoyment as a kid and professionally in acceptance into USAF Pilot Training and ability to complete it successfully.
Her son is riding fairly high right now, with several notable achievements under his belt, including Eagle Scout and acceptance into a unique college program. When I visited recently for his birthday, I directed the concept with him to knives, just for fun. I was surprised that he knew a bit about metals being used these days. He also surprised me by an earnest delivery of how he was super practical in being content with cheap knives that got the job done. Being the uncle who was consistently tardy or absent on birthdays and Christmas his whole life, I figured I would take a moment and a rare handful of cash and get him a knife he would never buy for himself—and likely never use. I also wanted it to be one that he would forever associate positively with Uncle Pete.
To my shock and dismay, when he finished opening the gift, my sister and mom took turns nastily cautioning him about the dangers of bringing it to school. Essentially they warned him that he would lose many opportunities that are available to him today over such a thoughtless mistake. They both then looked at me with apprehension, bordering on respect, a kind of, “I hope you know what you’re doing” attitude. I credit them for not “disagreeing” or “revoking” the gift.
Keep in mind, this was only a week or two before the black kid murdered the white kid with a knife.
How did I, the Eagle Scout uncle, caution the newly armed man?
Later, and one-on-one, I homilized, “I had no idea that your mom and grandma would react like that.” This opening keeps me credible and trustworthy. “On the topic, I just want to say this.” This establishes that the sermon is brief and likely worthy. “I got you the knife partly because of all these recent achievements of yours.” This is a compliment; hard to not like a compliment. “But please know that if you were to do something stupid like ignore reality and bring it to school, besides the consequences, by my thinking, it would mean that all the achievements were counterfeit.” This was the respectful and powerful punchline.
He blushed hard and seemed hurt.
Then he shed any maturity he had just revealed unintentionally, if winsomely, and smiled and nervously giggled in what I supposed must be counted as a teenager’s acknowledgment of unsolicited guidance.
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.
Captain’s Log 