Tagged: relationships

My Last Attempt At Running For Office

Four votes were guaranteed—my own and my three closest friends’. That’s how many votes I was certain that I would receive regardless of how my speech for president of my college fraternity went.

It was a good speech. I lost. Because we knew each other, I asked my fraternity brother who counted the votes how many votes I got.

Four.

Oh well.

That was it though. That was my last attempt in politics. Why? Because I lost? Nope. Because I only got the four votes that I knew I would. I, apparently, have an intuition about these kind of things.

This impeachment, like my election speech, is a waste of breath.

Even the most casual news watcher knows they don’t have the votes. Done deal.

Oh. And no one and no ink on paper (decision or vote) can prevent a riot. This is no different than the fact that neither theft nor murder can be prevented. (Nor disease.)

Serious Question About Citation Conventions in 2021

No joke, I’m really struggling here.

I want to unite with you and all others who support the unity that Biden just called for. But I don’t know if I should say, A. “Gosh. I got goose pimples when Biden quoted Abraham Lincoln, who apparently said, ‘something something ‘my whole soul is in it’?” (Which of course will appeal to blacks on two levels: firstly, they were freed from slavery by the Lincoln, secondly, they only know a few words like, “soul”, “brother”, and “sister”.)

Or, can I cut the boring part and just say, B. “Gosh, it was like an orgasm—wasn’t it—when Biden said, ‘My whole soul is in this: bringing America together, uniting our people and uniting our nation?’”

Quickly now, please. Comment below. Our union needs to start, like, yesterday. A or B.

Full Transcript of My Silent Prayer During Biden’s Moment of Silent Prayer Inauguration Speech Pivot

Lord! Oh, Lord!

Help me to remember that four hundred thousand people died from COVID. As it stands, I’m only reminded of the four hundred thousand COVID deaths every six hours. I’m begging you to remind me more frequently.

Specifically, I want to have alerts about the four hundred thousand COVID deaths sent to my phone every three minutes. And as the minutes go on, naturally, I don’t want you to unthinkingly keep the number at four hundred thousand, but increase the total in real-time.

Lord, I’m on my hands and knees for this request to show you that I understand that in antiquity, maybe as early as the Iron Age even, people thought this posture increased their chances at being heard.

Okay, Lord. Biden is talking again. Got to go. Love you. Bye.

Midwestern Thoughts on Impeachment 2

Maybe it’s just that I enrolled in some logic courses in college, but, to begin, I want to say that I am more and more surprised how many particular expressions of logical fallacies are put in play in formal American political debate. Then again, logic is just one part of rhetoric.

However, the main reason for this post is to say the following. There are at least two separate ideas in play at the moment. The first is whether President Trump used some sort of indirect, latent, or *wink wink* vocabulary and phraseology known by supporters and which somehow commanded them to “storm the capitol.” This post is not about this idea, however interesting it may be.

The second idea in play during today’s debate is that the United States of America can be irreversibly conquered in a time period of less than seven days, whether the next seven or some other grouping. This is what I want to write about.

The USA cannot be conquered, irreversibly or not, in seven days. If you disagree with me, then this doesn’t mean that the USA can be conquered in seven days. Instead, it means that you do not believe in the concept of National Sovereignty. By this time window talk I mean to quantify that you already don’t believe in America. This is fine! Just admit it.

There are other options than National Sovereignty. Believe as you please.

But I’m here to say that the USA is not going down in seven days—not if Trump wanted it to happen, not if you feared that it could happen. Give me a break. That’s as clear as I can be to explain why I don’t care about anything he or you say or do this next week.

Should the president be impeached? If I understand political process, it cannot be completed much earlier than seven days from now. So the question is not whether the president should be impeached. The question is whether the effort is merely symbolic. If not, then as my question’s time window decreases to six days, five days, four days, etc. as time goes on, my question’s clarity increases.

Finally, if it is symbolic, then what is the benefit of the symbolism?

Why I Say, “It’s All Hype”

Let’s pretend for a moment that my claim, “It’s all hype,” is not your claim. Let’s now go further into this fiction and make it more fantastical too. Let’s have you be curious and bold and ask, “But, Pete, it seems pretty crazy out there. Why do you insist that it’s all hype?”

My answer, “Because of one key phrase that all the hucksters are using: recent memory.”

It’s bizarre actually. There’s some lingering spirit of truth in the profession, some agreed upon need to quantify the false claims, and yet they will not use a definite quantity.

“In all human history…” would be fine.

“Since 1963…” is perfect.

“As far back as I can remember…” is weak, but ultimately has a definite date.

“In my lifetime…” same.

No, sir. None of these are in play.

Why not?

(Drumroll please…)

Because it’s all hype.

Imagine the Battle of Bunker Hill

Gibbons—who one practicing (not professional—I stand corrected) historian friend of mine has labeled the “ubermensch from the era of the enlightenment through the industrial revolution”—in his Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire wrote, “History, which undertakes to record the transactions of the past, for the instruction of future ages…”

The infamous battle which essentially was the first of the Revolutionary War was A. A battle, B. A losing battle, and C. A fight between two opponents.

Take a moment and imagine the Battle of Bunker Hill. Read up on it if it’s been a while. (I only did recently because it is a scene in GA Henty’s, “True to the Old Flag” adventure novel that I just was lent.)

Is war coming? How can that question ever not be answered in the affirmative? Of course war is coming. Unless we’re in war. Then peace is on the way. But after peace, war is coming. (And now you know I’ve read and understand Tolstoy.)

Are the criminals who are rioting today manifesting the Bunker Hill equivalent? Nope.

Next question: are you humble enough to be instructed by history, that is, to admit the difference between the events? I hope so.

Moreover, if you pro-trumpers really want the war, you too can be instructed by history. Merely to evidence that I’m no hopey-dopey-changey-mangy democrat (and not because I want the war—I got bills, remember!), here’s what I see as easy course corrections, based entirely on a long-since passed over boys adventure novel. A. Setup at night. B. Take high-ish ground at night. C. Build battlements at night. D. Have character. E. Have been concretely grieved by the colonizing government.

I don’t normally advocate reading “history” books. But since my best friend has told me to avoid writing about the field because I’m out of my element (though daily proving that a few used books are more than enough to encourage me to have a wild opinion—no PhD program necessary), I thought I’d step into the fray.

Can reading history save us from war? Nope.

But I believe the ability to imagine historical events will help us win the coming war.

Today, then, imagine the Battle of Bunker Hill.

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.

About COVID Relief Checks, A Review of Tenet, by Christopher Nolan

SPOILER ALERT: I didn’t need Christopher Nolan and his latest sapio-sexy film in order to believe that there are no parallel universes or, what is the same, that we’re all living in one big tapestry of existence. I didn’t need him to highlight that entropy is conceptually unbound from time. No. I already believed it and have proved it. How else could I have spent my COVID money before it was even deposited, huh? How else?!

As the old proverb goes, “The proof of the pudding is in the eating.”

Confession: I’ve been entraipsing through time my entire life. And it’s fantastic.

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(To be sure, I needed the money because I thought I had all the books I would ever need—I was wrong. Now I have all the books I will ever need.)

Eating Cheese Curds with Ethiopians in Minnesota

My step-son and I came up with the designation “black haired people” for what in America are generally regarded as “black people”. He’s an immigrant from Ethiopia and, believe it or not, Ethiopians don’t view themselves as “black”. Within the formerly so-called “dark continent”, not too different from the our own “paper bag test” South, our Yahoo brethren see shades, too.

But I digress. That the cashier was “black haired” is not the point. The point is that I’m funny.

I was making a last minute trip to HyVee to pick up snack foods (hence the cheese curd headline) for this holiday. I never, never let my step-son have soda, but today I was feeling an uncommon sensation—which I *think* you all would call “giving”—and so I picked up, not just any old soda, but a four-pack of some locally crafted grape soda. This detail matters because the four cans are packaged together with some sort of homespun, yellow plastic tops. Upon inspection, I noticed that these yellow tops were a bit dirty, but I figured that it just adds character or charm.

Next, keep in mind there’s a mask-mandating pandemic going on, I am checking out and the black-haired cashier advises, “You’re going to want to wash the lids before you drink them.”

Naturally, I become very curious and ask, “Why? Is there some sort of disease going around?”

Her body language leading the near-running retreat, she immediately reduces her initial warning to a casual comment, “Oh, no. They’re just dirty.”

“There’s no disease going around?!” I clarify, cautiously betraying that I believe this fact may be a little bit bigger news than at first glance. After taking a prefatory deep breath, “Hey everyone!” I fake yell, then dramatically pausing to scan for her name tag, I add, “Cindy here says it’s over! It’s over!! We can take off the masks!”

She laughed at the ridiculous life we were apart of. I laughed at the ridiculous life we were apart of.

I then assumed the lady behind me who had insisted I go first (I had fewer items) wondered, “Could this man be The Captain?” And then I went on my merry way.

Once home, I ate cheese curds while my wife fed the baby and my step-son recounted a funny part of a book he knew I had heard him laughing at last night while he read and I played the piano.