A Proposal of Armistice

15 April 2019

If such an acclaimed linguist as John McWhorter can (not just tolerate, but) embrace “Ebonics” then I think the rest of you should have little trouble with my useful laziness, my joyous envy, my noble cowardice, or Ayn Rand’s selfish generosity. If ya’ll’ll bend a little on that, maybe I can start pretending that brown people are “black” and pink people are “white” and depressed homosexuals are “gay” and maybe even that happenstance is “privilege.”

Nah. It’s one thing to reduce reality to black and white distinctions, but to suggest that good luck or circumspect behavior or not matching suspect descriptions are “private laws” or “elite access” is to turn civil discourse on its head.

update 200602:  correspondent CA acknowledges everyone’s right not to be assaulted, but points out that one group’s rights are regularly violated, whereas other groups seem not to be so harassed, thereby satisfying that part of the definition of “privilege” which states that it is “an immunity [that is] granted or available only to a particular person or group.” 

CA wonders whether I would consider that to be “luck” rather than privilege.  Yes, I call it luck. It happens from the outside and the recipient has no control over it. A privilege is defined and defended and exercised. Good luck happens to us.

And the right not to be attacked is violated for many races. Try being a skinny adolescent haole punk in Kalihi. Or Reginald Denny in Los Angeles.
Because right-handedness is the condition of the majority you could just as well invent “right privilege.” Because some are blind, you could invent “sight privilege.” I confess that I feel lucky to be able to readily digest lactose, peanuts, and gluten, but none of that makes me “privileged” either.

Wrong Answers

16 April 2018

introduction 190905: It’s a shame I’m such a spineless punk! I was never going to get these jobs anyway (so clear in retrospect) so I might just as well have been more honest during those tedious and ultimately pointless job interviews. I wouldn’t have lost any more than I did, and I might actually have gained a few more laughs along the way.

1) How do you get along with your team members?
a) You mean “colleagues”? “Work mates”? “Fellow employees”?
What’s a “team member”? Am I going to be on some kind of “team” playing some kind of “game”? I thought this was a job interview.

1.1) How do you get along with your fellow employees?
a.1) If they’re not idiots, just fine. If they’re quiet idiots, just fine.

2) What’s your biggest weakness?
b.1) I’m hyper-sensitive to stupid questions.
b.2) My inability to sustain the pretense that people are not fools.
b.3) A lack of self-reflection.

3) How are you today?
c) Irritable and frustrated.

3.1) WHY??
c.1) Irritable because you’re already asking about things that have nothing to do with this job or my alleged qualifications. And obviously frustrated. I’m here looking for a job. It has to be that I don’t already have the one I WANT so I’m trying to find another. Not having what you want is the definition of frustration. Go ahead and check the dictionary if you like. I’ll wait.

4) Would you characterize yourself as a people person?
d) Absolutely not. I’m not perky enough to be a people person. Besides which, people are just awful.

4.1) Uh… This is a people business, so…
d.1) I’m sorry. I mean I love people. People are the best. I’m so perky I can barely stand it. People never lie, people never steal, people never show up late, and people never ask pointless annoying questions. Do I pass now?

5) Do you think you’re better than other people? ’Cause you’re not!
e) At what? Without actual comparisons “better” has no meaning. I’m probably better at math and clearly more literate than most, but I’m also a pretty bad singer, so not as good as some others. Again, what’s your metric?

6) Do you think these smart ass answers help?
f) Yes. In addition to being amusing they also provide a cathartic release of tension and anger without using actual violence. So yes — “smart ass” answers are a very good thing. However, if you don’t really care for them, try asking fewer stupid assed questions.

And for the sake of stubborn integrity (or foolish consistency), I should apologize to no one, except of course to my former arch nemeses and our spawn, who all had to endure the same crushing poverty as I.
It’s tragic!
I’m even too awkward and inept to get a job as an engineer,
the very archetype of the socially retarded set!

Hapless Birthdays

25 February 2022

As kindly and benign as the intent was, I just couldn’t bring myself to answer the phone today. Mrs Axis likes to think she still cares, I presume, and maybe she does, but I’m not a fan of birthdays, in particular, nor of holidays in general. I like to be happy when I’m happy. Smiling on cue doesn’t work for me. Off stage, anyway. I’ll put on Christmas music in July if I feel like it, but I am not apt to take notice of “normal” birthdays or holidays. I am well beyond the single digits, and, at sixty-six, I’m even past the fractions of a century. And this one also doesn’t end in a zero. So I’ll just pass on courting more trouble this time, thanks.

8 September 2022

Try as I do to avoid them, they still tend to crowd my head. The pressure is particularly great during this upcoming Nativity Season. Contra Vivaldi, I think there should be more than just Four Seasons. There’s baseball, harvest, Christmas, planting, skiing… lots of seasons, and many of them overlap. For me, the Nativity Season begins in a day or so, on Early Riser‘s birthday. Within a week it will be Diva Dearest‘s, then in another two weeks more or less it will be Bud‘s, and three weeks after that will be Sugar‘s. Four birthdays in six weeks may not seem like a lot of pressure, but these four ARE a big deal, and always will be. These four are among the people (other than my own children) whom I’ve loved the most, and whose absence I still regularly mourn. All four of them have had their fill of me and have thrown me out. I never stopped loving them, and I never will, irrespective of whatever (real or imagined) crimes of which they will accuse me. It’s not a contradiction to have mixed emotions. I can respect your skills and still abhor your character. Or vice versa. Your mileage may vary.

5 March 2023 — Over and over, perhaps I need to rethink this stuff. As loathsome as holidays are to me, I must remember that I am the outlier here. So, no more generic “birthday season” greetings. Next time (or never) it’s going to be SPECIFIC! One card each! Doesn’t matter if it’s trite, puerile, or superficial. ONE CARD EACH! (May be too late for some, but…)

“I’ve been wrong before and I’ll be there again.”

22 February 2022

I’ve misunderstood before what friendship means and who are actually friends and who just like my occasionally amusing quips. I may never fully grasp it, but the last couple of years have taught me a bit more about what friendship is not. It seems to have less to do with honesty than with tiptoeing around delicate little feelings.

“In the field of [social intercourse] it’s plowin’ time again.”

Lyric from “Field of Opportunity” by Neil Young, 1978

Natural Anti-Semitism

13 February 2019

Anti-Semitism is the inescapable confluence of bigotry and demography.

Most ignorant savages hate and fear smart people. They either “think” that we’re evil wizards, or that we’re up to no good. (“[Constantly imposing] their safety and hygiene and prosperity [on the skeptical.]”) On the other hand, they seem to have no trouble at all with their cold beer, TVs, or “smart” phones. (“Oh look! Bright colors!“)

Decades of psychometric examinations on thousands of subjects have clearly shown that, Jews, taken as a cohort, often described as “crafty, cunning, clever, and conniving” (all ways of saying “smarter than me”) are indeed smarter than the rest of us, just edging out the East Asians in second place.

Can’t have that. [Them smart people is up ta sumpthin!]

update 190218:
At Matthew 6:6 Ministries, we are definitely Up to Know Good!
In addition to brains, poetry is also good, and I’d love to provide some. Instead, I’ll offer this collaboration from me and Elvis of Puna, with meter stolen from Hanna, Barbera, or one of their many minions:

Fundtsteins!
Meet the Fundtsteins!
They’re the modern Jewish family!
All their —
Sons are lawyers,
And their daughter has a PhD!
When it’s —
Time for you to pay your tax!
You can —
Be assured that you’ll relax,
With a —
Tax accountant,
Who knows all the hidden secrets,
You’ll never regret,
Your Jewish CPA!

Resisting or Yielding to Temptations

18 February 2022

I was good. Really I was. I had considered showing up wearing a useless facemask, just to wave my dick a little. In fact, I was going to cover it first with safety pins, thus folding in an earlier schtick that was de rigueur a season or so back. That way, of course, I would be twice as safe. I think I’ll do that anyway, adorn my surviving mask with safety pins, so that it’ll be ready when a harried merchant requests or a bureaucratic thug demands it next. But I did not wear it to Sugar‘s ([and BUD‘s!]) house, as much as I was tempted to crow out how much I’d told the world this time. But I was a guest, and besides, I’m a coward, so I wasn’t about to stir up an unnecessary confrontation.

But avoiding provocation didn’t help, because out of the blue and apropos of nothing apparent, FP decided that she needed to look after L’Historienne‘s welfare, in whose home I will be living for the week or so it takes me to secure my own accommodations in Texas. “Has [she] been vaccinated (sic), and does she know that you haven’t been?” I assured her that L’H was fully aware of my jab-free status, and that she was also uninjected and uninfected with these experimental concoctions.

FP then had to go on and regale me with sad anecdotes about some of her “anti-vax” friends who (at advanced ages and with possible other compromises) had taken quite ill and in fact, in one case, actually succumbed. I agreed that that was very sad, then we sat awkwardly until pleasanter discourse prevailed. Maybe I should have expected as much, but I failed to reckon with how enduring a love of fear of Wuhan Flu® could be. 

Love’s Losses

9 February 2022

My brother fell in love with hating Donald Trump, and it’s squeezed out many of his other loves. This mystifies me, because while I have no doubts about Mr Trump’s worthiness of disapproval, I remain baffled as to what made him significantly more hateful than the mass murdering sociopaths who inhabited the White House before and after him. Strictly based on body count, he may have been the least awful President since Jimmeh Carter. Now that the “evil orange monster” is out of office, you’d think he’d check back on his beloved hatred a little, but it must be an intoxicant too powerful to quit.

Mrs Axis seems to have fallen in love with fearing WuhanFlu™ and it’s squeezed out many of their other loves. This mystifies me, because, while I have no doubts about the dangers of the coronae, I remain baffled as to what made these significantly more dangerous than the seemingly endless varieties of coronae and influenzae, and indeed, all respiratory viri who inhabited our biome before them. Strictly based on body count, it may have been the equal to the Spanish, or Hong Kong, or Swine flus. Now that more accurate data are available, you’d think she’d check back on her cherished fears a little, but it must be an intoxicant too powerful to quit.
If only I, and the ideals we supposedly shared, were half as intoxicating.

Unhappy Anniversaries

210106 — The Capitol Hill Ruckus and murder of Ashli Babbitt

210109 — Singled Down (detached, dejected, rejected, and rescinded)

190717 — All them issues, All them feelings: A relay event wherein the Baton of My Perpetual Failure is passed from the hand of “it’s your own fault for not talking to us” to the hand of “how could you say such a thing?

We Might As Well Be Jews


Throughout history, poverty is the normal condition of Man. Advances which permit this norm to be exceeded… are the work of an extremely small minority, frequently despised… and almost always opposed by all right-thinking people. Whenever this tiny minority… is driven out of society, the people then slip back into abject poverty.
This is known as ‘bad luck’.”
— Robert Heinlein, 1973

24 January 2019

My step-father insisted that I remain stupid in his presence. “Don’t get smart with me, boy!” He once swore to me that “if it’s the last thing I do I’m going to slap that smart mouth right off your face!” Fifty years later he’s out of the picture, and I’m still a mouthy prick. He tried. He really tried, but I could never measure up. But really, this was supposed to be about the Jews, and why we all hate them.

Jews are too smart. Cain’t trust them smart people. Them smart people is up to no good. Alla time trine ta shove their safety, efficiency, hygiene, leisure, and abundance down our throats. Somethin’s gotta be done!” Bigots have been on to us for centuries. History and literature are replete with references to “the inscrutable Oriental” and “cunning Japs” and “sneaky, crafty, conniving Jews.” All of these (except perhaps for “sneaky” which may just mean “light of tread” or “careful of step”) are simply ways of saying, “They’re smarter than us!”

Why are little negro girls beaten up by their classmates? The excuses betray a theme. “Da bitch ax for it,” and “She cray, she think she better’n us,” and, of course, that most egregious offense of all, “’Cause she ac’ white!”

What does that mean, to “ac’ white”? It appears to refer mainly to those children who speak clearly, dress neatly, attend to their studies, and are generally deferential (if not respectful) to their instructors. It’s a pity more “white” children (and alleged adults) don’t “ac’ white.” Know whum sane?

It’s almost like an unconscious admission that (on average) “white” people are smarter than “black” people, and “Jews” are smarter than “white” people by about a standard deviation each. The classmates’ reaction is a visceral reflexive defense against anyone acting out of place or above his station. As if scholastic achievement were a betrayal of one’s “people” or “kind.“

Don’t blame me for these data. (Or Charles Murray or James Watson.) It was the US military that conducted these psychometric examinations upon thousands of applicants over several generations. (I was one of those applicants, and I apologize for skewing the average.) Their point of view was not Jim Crow, nor Louis Farrakhan, nor Kumbaya. The military’s main mission is murder and mayhem. Unless directed to by a bleeding-heart Congress, they care very little for your delicate little feelings or your ardent racial pride.

Norm MacDonald says that David Letterman is the smartest comic he knows. I know OF Letterman, and of other comics, but I don’t know any personally, so I’ll take Norm’s word for it. I like Letterman, and I think he’s funny, but he doesn’t come across to me as extra smart. In fact, his dumb-guy schtick, and his apparent dumb-guy ethos, are a big part of his act. “Nobody likes a smart comic,” says MacDonald, and I disagree. I LOVE smart comics, and many have been successful (George Carlin, Dennis Miller, Mort Sahl, Lenny Bruce, Dave Smith, Margaret Smith) but none of them can summon the size of the audience that Letterman, Jim Carrey, Carrot Top, or Gallagher might. (Perhaps Norm meant ALMOST nobody. If so, he should say so.)

The Bush family is not stupid. They are evil, wicked, shallow, vain, and cruel, but they are not stupid. Dubya ( “lahk his Daddeh” ) is a Yale graduate, and yet he pronounces nuclear “nuke ya lurr.” His base eats it up. His major competitors, HALGOR 9000 and John Kerry, are both widely perceived to be of rarified intellect (they are not) and of an elite and effete class (they are.) Dubya was elected twice. He’s jus’ a good ol’ boy. And while he is a talented painter, he doesn’t seem to know how to hold a hammer. I believe he’s a clever guy who found a winning formula for success.

My father once told me that he was an Adlai Stevenson man two cycles in a row. “He had every thinking man’s vote,” he said. “Unfortunately it takes a majority.”

update 200828 — Defending the Curve

Working at the QuikkStopp-by-the-Interstate™ provided an opportunity to test Murray’s bell curve, cited above. One of my duties every shift was to mop the floor, and as an aid to protect our bottom line from lawsuits we were provided with “Caution, Wet Floor” signs. I had no way of knowing when or whether customers would come in, so I would mop in stages, blocking off the wet sections with the signs. Doing so, I would often carve out a dry path from the door to the till. Some customers would take the trouble to step over or around the signs and tread across the wet section to get to the till that was closed, while most would take the easier path to the till that was open. I believe that this is an objective test of stupidity, albeit with a limited sample, so errors could be substantial.

Who’s dumber, on average? Chance should show the proportions of stupid behavior as more or less equal to demographic representation. Is it really true that “whaht people’re smarter’n them nigras?” In Greater Cincinnatistan, the population breaks down approximately as follows: Pink People 75%, Brown People 20%, and Clearly Asian People 5%. Over the course of a couple of years, I kept track of who took the extra effort to go to the wrong till. That was my working definition of “stupid,” and this is what I saw, a total of 93 pinhead transgressors, as follows:

Pink Male: 48, Pink Female: 9, Total Pink People: 57/93 = 61.3%
Brown Male: 21, Brown Female: 9, Total Brown People: 30/93 = 32.3%
Asian Male: 6, Asian Female: 0, Total Asian People: 6/93 = 6.5%

Based on larger, more comprehensive studies, I should have expected fewer Asians to unnecessarily tread on the wet floor, but again, mine is a very small sample, so anomalies are naturally exaggerated.

These comments are sponsored by The Confederate Mint (purveyors of metallic securities in gold, silver, copper, and lead).  For sample sheets of Metallic Certificates (total face value One Tenth Silver Dollar) send One Silver Dime plus a self-addressed stamped envelope; or 
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FanBoy Fun

20 November 2018

Many of us lately find our congregations on-line.  Or so we hope.
In my pursuit of Legion of Super-Heroes oriented good times I join in on discussion groups composed of similarly minded geeks.
Turns out the discussions are not all geekery.

Someone had posted an illustration called “Dream Boy” featuring an elfinly masculine analog (perhaps) of Legionnaire Dream Girl, or maybe a fellow Naltorian with the same indigenous prognostication power as she. Who knows? Anyway, it was mostly a fine illustration, however someone had gotten into a bit of a twist over the illo’s vaguely androgynous look, and then someone else got into an even tighter twist over someone calling someone a “deviant” and then calling for the mods or the admins or Mommy or Pop to squelch the heretics for blasphemy, homophobia, apostasy, and transphobia. And I’m only kidding about two of those crimes. So by now I’m wondering, “What happened to the fun and the camaraderie? Aren’t we all deviants on this bus?”

So of course I have to weigh in.
A deviant is that which deviates from the norm.
Norms and their derivatives the deviants are simply mathematical constructs. We expect the norm because it is the most common, and we are sometimes surprised by deviations depending on their rarity.
So what exactly is the problem with “deviant”(a concept that embraces the left-handed in a right-handed population and the lactose intolerant in a lactose digesting population equally)?
There is neither anything exalted about normal nor anything disgraceful about deviation.
I recommend a dose of Trichillin.
(from the makers of Chillax, use only as directed)

And then, just because that was too reasonable, I had to add a little more.
Or remove me for insufficient piling on.

Correspondent JK asserts that I “can’t be that stupid”, without specifying exactly HOW he thinks I’m being stupid. Since I am riddled with doubts I thought it might be prudent to go back and check my math and English. Nah, there’s no need to check my math, or the statistics, as many minorities are abundantly obvious. As for English, Merriam-Webster’s first definition of “deviant” refers to it as an adjective, to describe something that has deviated from the norm — as in deviant results, deviant data, or deviant behavior. The SECOND definition vindicates my usage, as it is a person whose characteristics or behavior deviates from the norm. And still, deviations remain good, bad, OR indifferent, according to circumstances.

Correspondent JM recommends that I depart for the Nether Kingdom, and also possibly to Spoil the Friendly Urchins(?). It’s a little hard to make out through his seething ire. Often it seems that the greatest outrage is that others aren’t outraged enough. I cheerfully reply.
Or simply anger on… as umbrage is so ambrosial… Happy Daze!

Apparently not one to be mollified, JM cuts me deeply with “Quiet down troll,” and goes on to declare (I presume) that I have a “fake profile.” This, somehow, is “very brave” of me. Meanwhile, admins seem to provide JM no succor, just as JM provides no clue as to what aspects of my profile he believes are fraudulent or courageous.

I may have developed too thick a skin after a lifetime of deviation… Tough.  I am a multi-threat deviant myself: anarchist in a statist world, atheist in a mystic world, polyamorist in a monogamist world, and a shameless fan of super-heroic fantasy in a “them funny books is fer kids” world. You don’t think I know from ridicule? The fact is, every one of us who participates on this forum is a deviant. So what?

Chameleon Boy, Saturn Girl, Phantom Girl, Colossal Boy, Gigi Cusimano, Cosmic Boy, Triplicate Girl (all depicted by Steve Lightle), Shvaugn Erin, and Jan (Element Lad) Arrah (both depicted by Colleen Doran & Al Gordon), are all held de jure by Detective Comics and Warner Communications.  Their images are reproduced by Piracy Press for purposes of analysis and scholarship.  If anything, their use here constitutes free advertisement for DC‘s properties at the considerable expense of Piracy Press and Greigh Area Associates.

Stories are selected with the greatest of discrimination, but even numbered issues of Daring Love are specifically edited with the prurient interests of atavistic fanboys in mind.  Reader discretion is advised.