Tagged: wordpress
The Natural Response to Seeing Clearly: Thankfulness
Sight has aways been important in my life. For whatever reason, from the youngest age, whenever I took a vision test and had 20/20, people told me I could be a pilot.
These days, as a pilot who often flys with night vision goggles, I can’t help but wonder how different life would be if the ancients had NVGs available as they searched the sky.
Of course, the fact that they didn’t is because of their own ridiculous beliefs about motion and rest and circles and spheres.
I remember a childhood friend who had recently got a better prescription telling us how different the world looked. She said something like, “It’s like the trees now have individual leaves.”
How did she react? Obviously she was thankful and happy about her new glasses.
Why, then, is this not the case when we use telescopes and microscopes to see more than before?
Why would seeing more somehow make us angry?
Why would seeing more somehow make us give up beliefs, like Christianity? It’s not like Christianity said, “There are three hundred stars, and the smallest unit of material is a grain of sand.”
If we can see more, I think the appropriate response should always be the same—and limited. We should be happy and thankful.
It says more about your heart, or more broadly “you”, than it does about the “data” (what is now seen) when you react otherwise.
We All Know “You can take the lady out the hood, but you can’t take the hood out of the lady”, But We Think The CIA Is Involved?
How stupid are you?
This isn’t an invitation to prove yourself. I am just making the point that there is a perfectly reasonable answer to the interweb’s (darkweb’s) latest accusation. The answer being: the dude had a terrible childhood, without love, light, or education of any kind. We (USA) used him as the forever-pawn that he only could be, when we needed forever-pawns, and he couldn’t handle the transition to civilization and peace when we were done with him.
They all still need to leave America.
Or they can assimilate. There are many options for “first step” of assimilation. A renewed effort in nationally saying Pledge of Allegiance to start the day is one.
But at this point, I say, “Please leave”.
Everyone Who “Knew This Would Happen”…
…now owes the rest of people, those without the gift of foresight, what happens next.
Predicting moohammedans’ boom in America is now merely part of history. There is no rhetorical power in claiming, “I told you so.” The rhetorical power now in great demand is, “What happens next, Oh, Great, Divinely-Touched, and Accurate Doom-Foreteller?”
This isn’t a “you show me yours, I’ll show you mine” taunt.
My foresight says two, and only two, options remain available.
- Insufferable mediocrity until America is a caliphate.
- Actual religious war, which results in everyone losing, except “hope”.
How’s that for Negative Nancy, on this Happy Hump Day?
Finally Figured Out The Kirk Memorial
Like a mathematician, it finally hit me when I stopped thinking about it.
There’s a scene at the end of many sci-fi movies, Logan comes to mind as a standout, where we are shown a kind of intended-to-be-provocative indication that pre-pubescent children are willingly going to take on all the responsibilities classically assigned to adults.
These scenes always compel me to respond with, “It’s gonna be far more difficult and deadly than the hopefulness the Hollywood director betrays, buuuut I wouldn’t bet against life.”
This is exactly how I feel after sitting through that nearly six hour memorial service.
Wow. There were a lot of young speakers. That was remarkable to me. (Obviously.)
Three other thoughts (and one conclusion) I had include:
1. I couldn’t help but watch with an international perspective, especially the government speakers. I wouldn’t claim to have my finger on the pulse of Europe or Tommy Robinson etc, but I have to believe it would be difficult for any of the remaining Westerners in Europe to find a single fault in the entire proceeding. And if I was them, I would be thinking—right now—“America is with us. Now is the time to push ahead.”
2. I also couldn’t help but put on my “I’m a devout mohammedan” hat and try to decipher what these beautiful people were going off about. In that vein, the promotion of monogamy and the idea of responsible young men is where I would have been most bothered and intrigued. I mean, seriously, that I think, whatever the intentions of the various speakers (and whatever Kirk himself would have intended), I am a sucker for the idea that some challenges (“be a better/real man; it’s worth it”) cross all barriers and cause contemplation on the matter. What would a polygamist mohammedan have in retort? “Naw, dawg. Starting with our mommy, god gives his people many women to take care of us savages and the kids so we can play the oppressed victim and destroy beauty.”
Nope. They have no response because their Old Testament ways are barbaric and have been superseded for millennia.
So, I say, perhaps with too much hope, that some of them, obviously second generation that have lived among us for their entire heathen lives, were genuinely challenged and intrigued by the monogamy part of the speeches.
3. I also tried to watch with an “I’m Black and constantly affronted by every whitey who doesn’t say the words I want to hear (‘Free Kobe’ ‘Hands up, Don’t Shoot’ ‘Black Lives Matter’ etc)” hat. From this perspective, I thought the stage had too much red—definitely Neo-Nazi. The entire event was too white—this means it was a White Christian Nationalist rally (aka Lucifer in the flesh). “Of course they use Ben Carson”. And “sumpin’ ‘rong wid her eyez” while Erika spoke. In short, I would not have been impressed by any of it and I would not have felt welcomed by any of it. And I would not have been moved by any of it, even if Rubio, Kennedy, Hegsdeth, and Vance did share the same Gospel (in the same words) that my pastor has used on me.
****
My concluding thought is, “I felt it on 9/11. I felt it as I participated in OIF. I felt it years later at an evangelical seminary when the apologetics 501 class introduced me to the ‘kalam cosmological argument’, even admitting it was developed by mohammedan theologians. And I felt it while living up in Somalia/Minnesota. The singular and definitive conflict of our generation is Western Civilization vs Islam.”
F@&$ Iraq. F@&$ Afghanistan. F@&$ getting Bin Laden.
This memorial service was the first counterpunch.
On The Virality of Being Caught
Like many, many of you, I too watched more than one video of the recent Coldplay Kiss Cam Catch.
Why?
Firstly, because it already was “viral” and so I deemed it worthy of the peek.
Secondly, because the very idea of “getting caught” requires that generally suppressed emotion “shame”.
“Shame”, then, is what caught my attention. Is anyone ashamed anymore? Apparently, the answer is “yes”.
Maybe not the Parents who are castrating their children. Maybe not the Doctors who are overlooking every single problematic behavior in favor of chemical treatments. Maybe not the blue, green, or pink-haired faggots. Maybe not the Marxists. Maybe not the Politicians in general. Maybe not Celebrities. Maybe not Professors. Maybe not MegaChurch Pastors and Boards. Maybe not Blacks. Maybe not Illegal Immigrants. Maybe not Gang Bangers. Maybe not New Yorkers or Californians.
But that couple at the Coldplay concert did. And we all recognized it immediately.
They were living some kind of bliss, some kind of pure illicit fantasy—forbidden love—right up until the moment they were not. Just an amazing thing to consider. Where exactly were they until that moment?
The song in Romeo and Juliet comes to mind. “A Rose will Bloom/It then will Fade”.
Thoughts on a Twenty Minute Walk in the Airport
I cannot emphasize enough how genius P.D. Eastman’s “Go, Dog. Go!” is. Nearly every description about the people (and dogs) I just witnessed is contained by that delightful children’s story.
Then again, it didn’t include a woman running in casual attire, or a pilot in the shoe-shine station informing ShoeShine Joe that his pants were tight.
It didn’t include a dad yelling out to his kids that while they were allowed to pointlessly ride the moving sidewalk, they could not run on it.
It didn’t include a man declaring, “He doesn’t even know how to build a client!” into his phone, or a pretty boy young man who made the command, and ill-advised, decision to wear boat shoes—without socks—as a complement to his fashionable ensemble and who now had his (red achilles adorned) heels on the outside/top of the back, almost like they were the newer convertible house shoes I have seen purpose-built with an optional fold-down heel, but, of course, his shoes didn’t have that feature.
The many heathen tongues abounded, too. P.D. didn’t see that coming.
Overall, it was another reminder that it’s a big world, full of people trying to go places. Most are ugly and won’t look you in the eye.
No More LifeGuard Babes
I don’t know if you saw, but the other day a nerd-bomber with a drone just spontaneously and brilliantly saved a person from drowning by flying out a rescue device. (Took two tries actually.)
For those of you who can read facts but struggle to draw conclusions correctly, allow me to help. This simple, lifesaving effort just removed all hope of me ever receiving CPR from a Baywatch-style lifeguard, a la Sandlot scheming.
Until this event, I have to say that I didn’t believe any single person’s actions could be more disastrous to life on earth than the first man to work through the siesta.
The future is bleak. And apparently limitlessly so.
Reading Log 4.9.2025
Same for Vol 2 as I said about Vol 1, “Grant’s memoir was amazing and astounding on nearly every level. What a time to have been alive.”
****
Re: Pilgrim’s Progress: I will share the text I sent to a friend.
“On another subject, I finally started John Bunyan’s famous ‘Pilgrim’s Progress’.
Four chapters in and I would say this book may be more valuable to Christianity than the Bible itself. One more entry in the matter of ‘what a shame that folks have dropped it out of vogue’.
If you want a copy, I can send one to you. It is part of our homeschool set.”
(Obviously I would need a GoFundMe account to accomplish this for the world’s population. But if you are serious that all you need is a copy to get you reading, my offer stands. Comment below or email me. We’ll get you one.)
****
I have read tons of Mark Twain. Or it feels like it. But I had no idea about Mr. Wilson and the twins. Twain is ridiculous. I always thought he was hilarious, as evidenced here again, but these open the “ridiculous” description too. And watch out! The “n” word is on full display as he calls into question everything you have ever thought about life on earth.
****
The reason you read Pascal is to see for yourself that these “greats” are impossible to justly or sufficiently summarize. The infamous “wager” is far more involved than how it typically is presented.
****
The math essays don’t teach you particular skills, but they are interesting and do contain such marvelous sentiments, found curiously nowhere else, as, (paraphrasing) “We don’t need to think more. We need to think less. We need to accomplish as much as possible with as little thinking. That is true advancement.”
Oh, and if you want a single essay as an icebreaker, to test the waters, it’s Euler’s hands down. “The Seven Bridges of Königsberg.” See here.
****
I like writing these updates. But I wonder if anyone will ever use them as intended. Time will tell.
I Have A BIPOC Teenage Step-Son, Therefore You Should Listen To MY Take
For starters, “The Captain had turned on the Fasten Your Seatbelt Sign.” So buckle up.
I need to draw your attention right away to certain facts that I believe should be obvious, but due to everyone’s performative heightened sensitivities these days, aren’t.
1. This is a WordPress blog called Captain’s Log. I am a pilot. I was a pilot in the Air Force. You don’t need to know anything beyond this combination of demographics (male, writes blogs, flys aircraft professionally, did so in the USAF) to be certain that I am white.
2. This teenage step-son I have referred to is a step-son. Step. That means I am not some happy-go-lucky Academy Grad who adopts African orphans to keep up with the Joneses. In order to have a BIPOC (African—not African-American/Black) step-son, I must be married to a BIPOC wife.
3. This is one level deeper, but given that he is my step-son, I think it is fair for anyone to assume that in his mom’s eyes, he is an angel and can do no wrong. In other words, there is absolute and comprehensive discord when it comes to raising him.
Let’s move on to certain facts that are not available to even faithful followers.
A. He currently is testing the waters of HS Track and Field.
B. His haircut is near identical to the alleged murderer’s.
C. I have seen him taunt his opponents (in basketball) in similar language to “Touch me and see what happens.”
D. He and I haven’t spoken many words for over a year now. This silence went into effect basically since a time when circumstances led to me checking his phone and finding atrocious garbage, to include a selfie of him flipping off the camera (which also exists for the alleged murderer). In ol’ fashioned American Dad style, I subsequently took a hacksaw to his phone. He hasn’t had one since. And he lies so much that I have decided to back off rather than “fight, fight, fight.” (Which would be with BOTH him and his mom/my wife.) Additionally, I agree with the general philosophy, “There is no point in communication if there is no truth.”
Got the picture?
Backing up, regarding the dead twin, I find great consolation in Mark Twain’s humor. Perhaps you will too. He wrote
In other words, in the fullest sense, between the black kid and the white kid, the black kid got the shaft—what a stupid thing to do.
When I tell whites about the demographic decisions of my life, they reward me with such reactions as, “That is sooooo interesting,” and, “That’s what I love about you, Pete!” It feels good. It feels amazing. They are right. And “interest” is at least half the reason I live how I live. Who wants a boring life?
But the truth is that I also love America and believe in my heart of hearts that I have an excellently formed and accurate appreciation for what exactly America is. And I want America to do what stands before it as possible—even if it still feels unlikely. I mean, I want America to be a post-racial country. Let’s mix it up like no one has and enjoy the unpredictable result. What is the saying? “Variety is the spice of life.”
But no. No one else wants that. Nope. Instead, my dreams have resulted in having a step-son who models himself after thugs and a wife who indulges him at every step.
As I have read the interweb’s reactions and trolls, I have come across this tit-for-tat notion where the Black responds, “Sure, when you first hear there is a murder and one person is White and one Black, you are right to guess that the murderer is Black.” Then they add the kicker, “But when we hear that a school shooting has occurred, everyone knows it is a White kid.”
I also grant this assessment.
The enormous difference, and one which affects me directly, is every White purposely dresses different than school shooters! And in the cases where there is some similarity, it is honest-to-goodness poverty or ignorance that has led to it. No White kids (except the seemingly unending supply of actual copycat killers) are imitating the school shooters’ appearance.
School Shooters are LOSERS! It is why they do it. They are losers with no imagination, no creativity, no hope, and access to guns. Losers. They are people who I purposely avoid and counsel everyone to avoid. They are losers who I want nothing to do with. They are terribly easy to spot. And they are pitiful. Leave them alone and report them anytime they do something that can keep them from shooting up schools!
With this Black kid, the same cannot be said. How he looks and how he acts is exactly the way my immigrant step-son has determined is how “cool” looks and acts. Take any run-of-the-mill Black celebrity-filled room, and this kid would have fit right in—same for my step-son. But the school shooter losers? They got beat up for showing up. That’s why they are convinced they are losers and see no way out but violence.
My first instinct when I saw the Black kid’s picture(s)? I wanted to tell my wife to take my step-son to get a proper haircut. Do I seriously believe that something as seemingly trivial as a hairstyle can change a life? Absolutely. How do I know? Because it ain’t about the hairstyle. It is about the fact that some parenting is happening. Some adjustments. Some common sense. Some reality.
What have I actually done after this tragedy? Nothing. Why not? Let me reference a not-so-famous quote from a beloved crime saga.
Neil McCauley (appearance completely like the cop sitting across from him) says to Vincent Hannah (I have a movie poster over my beloved piano of the very coffee table scene):
“You see me doin’ thrill-seeker liquor store holdups with a ‘Born to Lose’ tattoo on my chest?”
In other words, my time with my wife and my step-son has persuaded me of that which even believably portrayed criminals know to be the truth: Some folks are born to lose.
There are days when I avoid considering how much damage this “interesting” kid can do to my life and family (future legal troubles that my wife insist I pay to help as one example). But they are not the majority.
We Must Do Better at Describing the Dead
Anyone else absolutely annoyed at the statements about the recently deceased pilots?
I have posted on this topic many times and my dander is up again, naturally.
There is a paradox. We seem afraid of telling a lie about a dead person, presumably because it would be unfair, and at precisely the same time, we have no sense of fairness.
“He was young.” Wow!
“He was an amazing person.” By golly!
“She was a bright star.” No shit!
“No one dreamed bigger or worked harder.” Truly!
Here’s my ask: please talk with people who may feel like describing you after you die. Give them some boundaries. I am not kidding. I have written out something and given it to my mom.
I refuse to believe this paradox and other difficulties are based on the whiny, “It’s uncomfortable to talk about.” No, it’s not. You’re just out of touch in the main and think you are somehow exempt from the only sure thing—another paradox.
In short, we mortals, all of us, live in a world where Michael Jackson and a lesbo DEI nut that crashed into an enormous and well-lit plane (located where every swinging dick on the earth would be right to always expect a plane to be ((final approach to a runway))) are both described as celestial matter. How ‘bout, no.
Captain’s Log 