“Logic… logic… logic is the beginning of wisdom.”
— Roddenberry, Nimoy, & Konner
(Spock, The Undiscovered Country)
“Fear of [our authority] is the beginning of wisdom.”
— Shamans throughout the Ages
The Beginning of Wisdom
My Statist Friends…
211006 — “That’s a good thing!”
Many of my statist friends who remember passing Philosophy 101 object to my comparing the government to the Mafia. They say I’m trying to compare apples to oranges. They may have a point, over-broad comparisons can often be more distracting than helpful, so they should always be used with caution.
However… apples? oranges? These are both GOOD things!
Comparing government to other criminal organizations is more like comparing hemlock to nightshade.
210921 — The Trouble with Logic
Did a wicked God create cancer, diabetes, and mosquitos,
Or is a weak God unable to protect the innocent?
171227 — A Puppies and Rainbows Act
American partisan politics has been replete with lies since its inception. America’s first political party consisted of centralist nationalists, and they called themselves “Federalists”. That left the actual federalists (including the authors of the Kentucky and Virginia Resolutions) to call themselves “Democratic Republicans” (surviving unto this day as the Democrat party, the oldest living political party on Earth).
Just as the names stuck, so too did the mendacious traditions of our partisan “Representatives.” They constantly flaunt their falsehoods, from the “PATRIOT ACT” to RomneyCare 2.0 (“If you like your policy, you can keep it!”) to “Net Neutrality”.
Rest assured, if the Congress were to pass a Puppies and Rainbows Act, a careful reading of it would reveal its true designs to incinerate enough puppies so as to pump enough particulate matter into the atmosphere as to render rainbows impossible.
171202 — “[Do you] take EBT?”
This question is actually better than arrogantly assuming that we DO accept your Electric Biscuit Ticket, so thanks for asking.
The QuikkStopp does NOT accept “food stamps” or honor your EBT card because it is already annoying enough to be paying for your groceries. Obliging me to participate in my own abuse and to witness your squandering of my stolen money on candy, chips, and “energy” drinks just makes it worse.
Buy your own crap. I know you have cash, I just sold you lottery tickets.
020630 — “Campaign Finance Reform…”
.. is a cynical fraud. It constitutes an Incumbent Protection Racket by erecting unreasonably high hurdles for challengers. It is particularly unjust to independent party candidates. I prefer the First Amendment. Hard money or Soft, let any person give any amount to any candidate, any party, or any PAC.
Small Gifts from NPR*
14 September 2021
“You’re listening……………………………. to dead air!”
If you prefer a somnolent narrative pace that would never presume to jar you into any semblance of alertness, or if you’re interested in occasional stories of depth or substance, or even some late breaking developments, then NPR may have something for you. However, if you can only take so much of their unctuous superiority or earnest adolescent angst that crowds out actual news, you might appreciate these regular flags that are used by alert listeners to warn them of yet another of their “more hip and caring than thou” diversions away from useful information.
If you hear any of the following expressions used in their opening remarks, you may be assured that they’re getting ready to insult your intelligence and your character, or simply to waste your time:
“Lived experience…” “Equity…” “Authentic voices…”
“Whose preferred pronouns are…”
“Reaching out to marginalized communities…”
“Democratic leaders…” “Republican ideologues…”
“Third party spoilers…”
You’re welcome.
(* — Nitwits Posturing Righteously)
The Privileged Poor
3 December 2017
(Some very dear) Leftie friends of mine have been taking pains of late to school me on “White Privilege.” I still don’t buy it, but I guess I get it. You have to redefine it so that it no longer means “Private Law” (literally) or “Elite access” (generally) but rather “relative freedom from inconvenience or danger or suspicion.” Okeh, if that’s our metric, since the police rarely think that I resemble any suspects on their beats, then I’m “privileged.”
Who else is privileged? Well, everybody who still doesn’t require corrective lenses. I could go for some of that privilege. But I shouldn’t grouse, I still have both legs, arms, ears, eyes, kidneys, and testicles, so I guess I’m plenty privileged. Furthermore, if I make a lot of bad decisions for a couple of decades, I just might win me a Privileged Parking Pass, then I could park right up front at McGreasetrap’s™.
Such an inclusive definition of “Privilege” is so sophist and specious as to render it of little value in coherent discourse.
On the other hand, considering that some forty plus per cent (or more?) of Americans PAY NO INCOME TAX, the Lefties have given me a supportable argument (on THEIR alleged merits) to refer to them henceforth as The Privileged Poor.
update 171205: correspondent ML writes “No… you still don’t get it cause you don’t wanna get it. The fast and loose playing with statistics — like that forty per cent comment (why d’ya suppose they don’t pay income tax?) reveal a mind that is closed to new information and only being used for snarky debate tactics, so sad [bemoanji] — such a waste of a potentially first rate intelligence.”
I’ve addressed the personal insults on another forum (FascBuch). To the substantial portion of the response, and the only actual question: The Privileged Poor pay no income tax because the progressive income tax excludes the lowest echelons. The Privileged Poor DO pay taxes, as do we all — consumption, excise, and the corporate income tax component of just about every product that we buy. So of course, they definitely have cause not to FEEL particularly “privileged.“ Which is just what their civil masters want, as a large cadre of jealousy and resentment are the perfect clay to be molded into Gimmecrat voters. What keeps The Privileged Poor in those (income) tax brackets? Well, in addition to their own misbehavior (bears mentioning and dismissing, as bad choices are rife throughout the human spectrum) there is government action.
Minimum Wage legislation criminalizes apprenticeships and training wages. If a person can only bring fourteen bucks of value to an employer, a fifteen buck concrete barrier precludes many from taking that first step.
Licensing and regulation exist (contrary to their rhetoric) to protect entrenched contributors from competition, thereby denying The Privileged Poor their natural human right to pursue their own entrepreneurial aspirations.
update 171225: correspondent and creative reader ML discerns other than blank space between the lines: “So forty per cent of the population is poor enough not to pay taxes because of their own misbehavior??”
To repeat and amplify, let’s DO make it personal. The reason that I remain generally among The Privileged Poor probably IS due to my own misbehavior, beginning in school with my inability to “play well with others” and culminating in my refusal to submit to the requirements to receive a Certificate of Approval from Spartan High. Once into the job market, I still usually failed. In addition to my unwillingness to give 110%, kick it up a notch, or take it to the next level, I was also nowhere near as good as Ted Bundy or Jeffrey Dahmer at pretending to care about people nor as skillful as Charlie Manson or Jim Jones at inspiring subordinates. And, of course, I consistently failed to reach for the rectum during job interviews.
But that’s just me. I am hardly representative of The Privileged Poor. Nevertheless, that’s why it “bears mentioning”, because there ARE a few like me, and your adversaries WILL bring us up. And it is worth dismissing because we are anomalies. MOST of The Privileged Poor are blocked by minimum wages, licensing boards, arbitrary regulations designed to thwart would be competitors to your loving legislature’s corporate sponsors (Halliburton, Solyndra, et al) and a whole host of interfering bureaucrat buttinskies.
Irreligious Convictions
5 September 2021
I do not speak for “pro-life atheists,” because I am not all of them. I speak for me, a pro-life atheist, and I believe that abortion is homicide, because it extinguishes a genetically distinct human organism. Once the fetus develops a functioning nervous system, and is capable of feeling pain, it is also torture. It isn’t necessarily “murder,” as some homicides are justified, and some are accidents, but they are all homicides if human organisms die.
I do not speak for “pro-choice atheists,” because I am not all of them. I speak for me, and I understand that in medicine and in physiology, there is no such thing as a risk-free procedure nor a risk-free condition. When it comes to statistical mortality, two things are certain: pregnancy kills women and abortion kills women. I believe that there is ONE person in each scenario who is most qualified to evaluate those risks and to choose which to reject or to embrace, and it isn’t her doctor, her parents, her sweetie, or her god.
And of course, as an anarchist, I also don’t believe that it is the state.
(For those wishing to turn up the angst, for “pro-choice” you may substitute “baby killer” and for “pro-life” you may substitute “fetal fetishist.” I know that many on both sides of this issue are much more passionate than I am, and also that “th’Irish nivver let agrrreement get in th’way of a gud fi’t!”)
Rosalie Grace
23 August 2021
Dear Mom,
Thank you for teaching me how important it is to say, “I love you,” and “I miss you” to the people who mean the most to me, because we CAN’T know when it’s also going to have to serve as “Good-bye.”
Thank you for laughing at your foibles and frailties and helping me to learn to laugh at mine. Life is already hard enough without the balm of laughter. Thank you for making my life easier with your shining examples of kindness and creativity and generosity and wit.
Thank you for always telling me the truth. Even more so, thank you for making a point of sometimes NOT telling me, but instead pointing out that some things are none of my business.
You raised four excellent cooks and one beautiful daughter (who herself is not a complete loss in the kitchen). You would not abide whining helplessness and you made sure we knew that our lives were going to be in our own hands, but that meanwhile, help was just an ask away.
Thank you for lavishing us all with hugs and kisses and tears; and thank you for denying us undeserved “rewards.” Thank you for teaching us to respect our own accomplishments and for letting us find the satisfaction of making our own ways. We were hard on each other now and then, but it toughened us all. “I had no time to raise children,” you once told me, “My job was to transform infants into adults.” With the fallible clay at hand, you shaped us as best you could, and I believe that the best of us is a reflection of your hand on our lives and your heart in our hearts.
You kept us fed and housed and comforted. And you kept us clothed. Boy howdy you kept is in stitches! Your sartorial skill was an annual delight for me, at least, as we began new school years in original threads that were often the envy of classmates. When I imagine you now, I see you surrounded by colorful scraps of fabric, and a half-finished piece flowing from your chattering treadle Singer®, taking magnificent form, almost as if by wicked stitch-craft it sprang fully formed from your own vibrant vision.
You also made sure we could all read so that we could feed our minds for ourselves. I don’t know how much your love of literature and poetry and the theatre sparked my own passions, but you certainly made no secret of your delight in my pursuits. As a self-absorbed actor many of my favorite moments backstage or on stage would be your distinctive laugh confirming your presence in the house. If I were on stage, I would not break character and betray my joy, of course, but when backstage I would beam and boast.
Because of your great lessons, I know I need never say good-bye at all. You’ll always be in my heart. And you’ll also always be standing within arms’ reach, ready to slap my silly head around in circles if I were to even consider betraying the principles you’ve blessed me with.
So, thank you, Mom. Thank you, I love you, and I miss you.
Yours always, Lawrence Gene
review 210827, correspondent BA responds: “The minister read [this] beautiful letter… if not so well as [the author] or I could have read it. [The] letter… said much of what [our baby sister] and I felt too.” I am pleased to have it confirmed that I was able to speak on behalf of my surviving siblings, and I thank BA for his kind words. And I also can’t help but agree with his overall review. BA and I both have strong speaking voices and a good cadence. The attending shaman, not as much, I think, though he did manage to get out MOST of the text, only fumbling a few phrases. Since I was attending remotely I was obliged to suffer his heroic attempt.
Heisenberg May Be Red
4 August 2021
Having read a little bit of Rene Descartes and David Hume and Robert Heinlein by the time I was about fourteen, I decided I should call myself an empiricist, insofar as “atheist” and “anarchist” were probably still fightin’ words around that time, and I’ve always been terrified of confrontation. Since then, of course, I’ve become comfortable with more radical claims.
I made the mistake once of suggesting to an ardent Randroid that I could probably be considered an objectivist, even if not an orthodox Randian.
He set me straight immediately. There was no such thing as “probably an objectivist.” So I said that if an objectivist were locked in Schroedinger’s Box with a radioactive particle and a death-switch then that would certainly constitute a “probable objectivist.”
Randroids also don’t like quantum mechanical jokes.
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Consequence vs Risk
17 July 2021
The very act of getting into your car and attempting to drive safely across town is to reconcile yourself to killing innocent strangers.
This illustrates the danger of confusing consequences with risks.
To amplify further, the consequence of being hit by a meteor the size of a refrigerator is total obliteration. The risk isn’t worth worrying about.
update 210815: With my vigorous immune system and with my regularly encountering various coronae, influenzae, and other viri to keep it well practiced (regulated), would the risks introduced by strange, generationally untested potions be greater than any of their alleged protections?
In my case, yes, so “vaccination” is contra-indicated.
update 210825: You can obsess over the (possible) consequences, or you can evaluate the (probable) risks.
28 August 2021 – On “Following the Science™”
Israeli researchers (at the Kahn Sagol Maccabi Research Centre and Tel Aviv University, 25 August 2021) disclose that “natural immunity” is thirteen times more effective at preventing (re)infection than is “vaccination,” and twenty-seven times more effective at mitigating the symptoms of those (re)infected. Apparently, when encountering a novel protein, our “antibodies” will adjust their own chemistry to fight it off, and even remember it for months or years after. For some of us, our “immune systems” may over-react to certain otherwise innocuous proteins, and we will present with “allergies” — to pollen, to peanuts, to beestings, or to dander.
Elsewhen and elsewhere, a study of over 7000 blood samples from the American Red Cross found evidence of Wuhan Flu™ antibodies in over a hundred specimens taken as early as 13 December 2019. Meanwhile, my work schedule finds me at The Vectory™ (aka The QuikkStopp-by-the-Interstate™) located conveniently just an hour from The Big Airport. This puts me less than twenty-four hours away from just about anywhere on Earth. I took sick on the 24th of December and did not recover until the Tenth Day of Christmas. At the time I thought it was just my biennial flu coming back to recharge my immune system. It hung on for a little longer than average, but otherwise I had no reason to suspect it was anything other than another influenza or corona or rhino virus. I had the typical respiratory and inflammatory symptoms – headache, congestion, body ache, low grade fever and nausea, and compromised senses of taste and smell. All fairly typical (even if uncommon) for me, and I didn’t think much of it other than its being its usual drag.
Getting better, as I usually do, and continuing to work regularly, I felt fine for the next almost nine months until I was finally canned for my stubborn masklessness. Somehow, I had managed to survive nine months of plague without dipping myself daily in Purell® or muzzling up and cowering every time a strange customer (masked or not) walked into the shop.
210828, correspondent JP “almost died from a DT vaccine in 1989. Left me seriously ill for over a year. After that I was allergic to things I had never been allergic to –peanuts, strawberries — and I could not be outside for any length of time, [or I’d] get sick from allergies. Took almost 3 years for those problems to go away, never have tried peanuts again though.” JP‘s vaccination experience may be an extraordinary and unusual case, but it is still illustrative of the dangers of unnecessarily compromising our immune systems. Sometimes the risk is worth it, and sometimes not. Proceed with caution and, above all in matters medical, your mileage may vary.
9 September 2021 — Inverting the Burden
Many theists, statists, maskerati, and other committed faddists embrace a common logical fallacy.
Often, during rhetorical exchanges, I am challenged to:
“Prove that there’s no god.”
“Prove that anarchy is utopian.”
“Prove that Wuhan Flu™ is not dangerous.”
“Prove that masks don’t work.”
Of course I cannot, nor would I bother to attempt such a silly exercise. In logical discourse, the burden of proof is always on the affirmative proposition. While the prospect of “no god” may strike many believers as a positively ridiculous notion, it is still a claim of a negative condition, just as are “no state” or “no danger” or “no mask.” I’ve yet to hear an affirmative argument that convinces me that fresh air, anti-viral ultraviolet radiation, proper nutrition, good rest, and happy thoughts are more dangerous to my health than bacteria-laden moist facial diapers restricting my airway and compromising social intercourse.
15 August 2022
I’m still selling cigarettes to fat people at the QuikkStopp™ who are wearing their obedience masks.
Because they’re concerned about their health.
Fat people.
Buying cigarettes.
Wearing masks. On their chins.
For their health.
Transtrendyrism™
6 July 2017
I don’t make a great deal of the alleged “transgender anomaly” running through our bloodline (according to my son, who wonders about a possible genetic component.) When the fifteen year old grandniece declared that “last year” she had “definitely” been a lesbian, and now was “definitely a boy”. I concluded that she was definitely fifteen.
I was naturally relieved to learn of the fourteen year old grandniece’s safe return, and not terribly surprised to learn of her current re-identification. If she prefers “Ky” (or, original Greek spelling: “X”) to the perceived abomination that her parents tried tagging her with, well, I can certainly relate to that.
I was surprised when son informed me that sixteen year old grandniece had also hopped aboard the trendy new trans trolley. She had previously struck me as being rather affirmatively and comfortably feminine. But, it’s her call, I guess.
I reckon adolescents likely know themselves well enough to decide these things, but…
My own grandson, apparently now “identifies as female.” Sadly, this doesn’t surprise me all that much. Early reports had him a rambunctious force of nature, bounding through life with boyish vigor.
But boyish vigor is an unpopular commodity these days. We are living in a culture that celebrates and glorifies womanhood, exalts victimhood, and denigrates patriarchy, rape culture, and well, boyish vigor. Boyish energy is so unwelcome at the government schools that many offenders are tranked into ambulatory somnolence lest they offend the sacred order.
And of course, the lad has an assertive older sister. And parents who are deeply steeped in Leftie Culture. (Girls are cool! Girls are powerful! Toxic masculinity! Pay gap! Misogynist in the White House! Love Trumps Hate! Trans is trendy!) We are pack animals, after all, and popular opinion will usually win out, as most of us are eager to be one of the cool kids.
So, summing up: Instant granddaughter.
Or, not so fast. These issues will either be grown out of or grown into
I will ever endeavor to attend to the preferred proper nouns that people pick out for themselves, so long as they seem to be taking themselves seriously. But until jobs are secured, money is spent, and surgeries are performed, or other commensurate commitments are demonstrated, I’m going to stick with the pronouns that I’ve been using.
update 201119: this writer goes into greater detail on the boring technical details
The Fixed Game
correspondent KJ asks:
“Why do people confuse corporate capitalism with libertarianism?”
correspondent Bret Hinowi is also particularly puzzled, insofar as “corporatism is bipartisan policy. They seem to want to defend it and oppose it at the same time.”
I too am sad, but hopeful anyway, as long as there are still people like me around to come up with answers to KJ’s and others’ questions. Maybe the insights are helpful.
People don’t like thinking.
Thinking is hard. It’s easier to equate tropes.
Corporadoes and Banksters deal in money and “capitalists are all about making money” so therefore our corporatist (or “fascist,” Benito had a hard time deciding which) status quo is called “capitalist” in spite of the mountains of impedimenta erected by the state, and the special favors offered to loyal campaign contributors.
Leftists, mystics, and children believe that buying bureaucrats and legislators are “free market” activities. PJ O’Rourke reminds us that when legislatures are charged with deciding what gets bought or sold, then the first things bought or sold are legislators.
We don’t need to get all the big money out of politics.
We need to get all the big politics out of our money.
correspondent Von Tietje wonders: “How many actual scientists do you know?“
Golly, in light of my Mom once asserting that she knew me better than I knew myself, I have to doubt if I really know any other scientists either.
So… let’s pretend it’s zero. How would that disqualify me from analyzing mathematical models or understanding the difference between the literal and the allegorical? Many lay enthusiasts are well versed in arcana outside their professions. A draft dodger can be an astute military analyst and a paraplegic can be well schooled in baseball, and I may not even be an actual scientist or engineer.
Maybe, like Charlie, “I’m not even here!”