A Dearth of Reference Points, February Funk, and Wisdom from Dante

 

winter miseryIt’s February again.  That shortest month of the year, and the month in which the most people die. I think people just give up in February.  Christmas is long over (not that I am a great fan of the holiday hype,) and winter seems to just keep hanging on.  Most people are still paying for the crap they blithely and wantonly purchased for Christmas, that the kids have either broken or gotten bored with already. If you’re going to go, why not now? All hope abandon, ye who enter here.

That is a morbid thought, and I am no stranger to morbid thoughts.  I am always pulling worst case scenarios out of my imagination.  I should write horror movies, or at least get to narrate a guided tour of the Mütter Museum.  (I should get to actually go to Philadelphia to see the Mütter Museum…it’s on my bucket list.)

This morning’s drive was particularly sucky.  40-50MPH winds combined with temperatures in the low 20s and snow squalls meant that not only was the car being blown around, but there were little patches of ice hiding beneath that blowing snow.  I got here OK and with little incident, but some jackwagon in a Jeep Wrangler bought a trip to the ditch, likely arising from the erroneous assumption that 4 wheel drive makes one invincible.

Days like this remind me of my own fallibility and mortality more than I would like. Yes I know I screw up (a lot) and that every passing day I’m (to quote Pink Floyd’s song, “Time”) one day closer to death.

Days like this remind me of how not normal I am too.  Maybe it’s the overwhelming fatigue, or the inevitable joint pain that accompanies a low barometer, but I suspect it’s something deeper than weather. I went to the Dr. just the other day and my labs and such are mostly normal, so I probably don’t have any additional health failures. Even so, I am so tired I could sleep for weeks.

Maybe I am still guilt tripping.  Call it survivor’s guilt or maybe worse.  It’s not right to feel as if a weight has been lifted from me.  I feel like I don’t deserve a normal life…and maybe it’s not.  I don’t have a clue what “normal” is, nor have I ever had an accurate frame of reference and it scares me.  I don’t know what I am supposed to feel.  Then again, feeling anything always seems foreign to me.

I needed an extended sabbatical a long time ago but for various reasons that wasn’t able to happen. So I have to take bits and pieces of mental rest and reflection where I can get them.  Sometimes drive time is good for that.  Not lately, because driving is stressful when the weather sucks, but sometimes. I should have a Cougar Nap Saturday coming up and I will take advantage of that if I can.  If I take a few hours to just nap and watch reality TV (Botched is a good one, or The Incredible Dr. Pol, if I am in the mood for watching farm animals) on a Saturday, who can blame me?

I do need to set up a time (probably next Saturday) to get my oil changed and tires rotated, or I might arrange to drop the car off one day next week and drive the truck.

I am not looking forward to my birthday, which I hope most people I know will overlook. Usually they do because it’s at the end of February, when the winter funk and the it’s-not-quite-winter but-definitely-not-spring blecch season is in full swing in Ohio.

I think I might decide to set up some sort of weekend getaway sometime soon.  Maybe.

And it is quite OK to forget my birthday.

 

 

Calling Evil “Good” and Vice Versa, the Ongoing Toxic Legacy of the “Great” Society

 

lyndon johnsonLyndon Johnson has a legacy.  Of course “progressivism” (read: liberalism, socialism, Marxism, Hegelianism) didn’t start with him.  It didn’t even start in the United States with him.  Woodrow Wilson (under whom the federal income tax was established) was the first true progressive (read: liberal Democrat) president in US history.  FDR is probably the most well known of the liberal Democrat presidents, under whose watch much of the current nanny state was established.

Johnson’s term was a tipping point in that the already pervasive nanny state collided with the civil rights movement (which began, like women’s suffrage, as a noble cause) and the decay of traditional morality and ethics in society. 1968’s “war on poverty” continues on, but poverty marches on as if there had never been any sort of meaningful battle waged against it.  If one follows the trillions of dollars extorted from American taxpayers, one will find that precious little of it, save for in the Gucci purse of the occasional welfare queen who has learned how to put the screws to Uncle Sam, has ever found its way to the poor. There are, however, many suspiciously wealthy career politicians. They are suspiciously prominent on the blue side of the aisle…

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Today in 2019, civil rights have morphed into an irrational, untamed and ravenous monster.  Rosa Parks and Martin Luther King have given way to such fools as Rashida Tlaib

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In the name of civil rights there are endless taxpayer sponsored entitlements for everyone under the sun, especially for illegal immigrants and pet minority groups- but nothing but a big middle finger for those who are legal citizens who work and pay taxes.

In the name of civil rights there is discrimination- but only for those of northern European descent.

In the name of civil rights what was for thousands of years considered to be perversion and debauchery is celebrated and given legal preference over heterosexual marriage and family.

In the name of civil rights wicked people “celebrate their abortions” and encourage and promote abortion on demand.  Let’s call “abortion” what it is, murdering a human being-in spite of scientific proof that human life begins at conception.  Never mind that “a woman’s right to choose” begins with the word NO, unless she is willing to accept the potential consequences of her sexual behavior.

The definition of civil rights has transformed from the essential right of a human being to be regarded as equal to other human beings to that pithy dictum from Orwell’s Animal Farm: “Some pigs are more equal than others.”

We shouldn’t be surprised by what’s happening.  Even the framers’ best attempts to keep our government honest and balanced haven’t been entirely effective, and they won’t be, because there is no such thing as a 100% honest person. I am not a Calvinist, but I agree, John Calvin was completely correct in his assessment of the total depravity of man.  The current corruption and debauchery of those in American government at all levels are living proof that Calvin was right on that point. (I would argue with him on limited atonement and irresistible grace, but I am a Lutheran and that is a whole different issue.)

We have been warned.  I will give a brief disclaimer before I get into what I’m going to say.  I am a Christian.  I am a confessional (meaning I accept the teachings of the Book of Concord, i.e. the Lutheran Confessions, as being a true witness to the veracity of Scripture) Lutheran Christian which is not a popular form of Christianity here in the US.  Confessional Lutherans do not adhere to the “Left Behind” style of eschatology(eschatology is the study of end times) that is popular in apocalyptic action movies.   Rather, I hold to the confessional Lutheran stance of sola scriptura, which means: Scripture alone.  My eschatology (amillennialism)is derived from what the Holy Scriptures have to say about the days leading up to the return of the Lord and the end of days.

Woe to those who call evil good and good evil, who put darkness for light and light for darkness, who put bitter for sweet and sweet for bitter! Isaiah 5:20 (ESV)

I am not going to presume to set dates for the end of the world.  I think it’s funny when people try.  Jesus told us pretty much what we need to know about the end of the world in Matthew 24:36-51.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Dismality of February, and This Will All Thaw Someday

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Oh, the dismality of February yet again.  There is a reason why February only has 28 days (at least for three out of four years,) and that’s to put a lid on the number of people who die in February.  If February were 30 or 31 days, half the damn population would die in February, and that would just be weird.  We have to spread the death throughout the year better.  Not that everyone should die from heat stroke in July, but jeez.  I can understand losing the will to live when it is 90° and 100% humidity if there’s no air conditioning, perhaps a bit more than most, because I am not at all equipped for high temperatures.  I can abide cold a far sight better than extreme heat.

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But at least in July there is sunlight, and Ohio winters are notoriously dark and sunless. I can go all week without seeing sunlight save for maybe a ray or two on the weekend-  unless there is a damned blizzard going on.  And even if the damned blizzard is going on and it’s 4° below, Target still has nothing but bathing suits, tank tops, sandals and sleeveless dresses on display.  If I need a parka, I will have to wait until July when they put them back out.

Here in central Ohio we have been enduring a rather harsher than normal winter.  Oh, yippee skippy, because I just adore driving in ice and snow.  I’m all about those below zero temperatures too.  There is simply nothing like one’s ass freezing to the toilet seat unless I break down and turn on the space heater in the bathroom.

“Spring” will arrive someday. Probably sometime in May there will come a day when my back yard will transform from frozen tundra into Dog Shit Lake overnight.  Oh, the smell of Spring in the air.  Temperatures will go from -4° to 90° and 100% humidity within the span of about 12 hours.  There is really no Spring in Ohio. There is just arctic cold and wind, followed by stygian heat, usually accompanied by torrential rain.

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This is Brutus, the Catahoula^ (Catahoula Bed Hog Dog)

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This was Clara^ (God rest her sweet soul) the Malinois

Note to self: the 80# Catahoula shits according to his size.  For those unaccustomed to dogs, for an example, a 65# Malinois has the strength to overpower a 300# man.  The 65# Malinois consumes, and disposes of about the same number of calories as a 300# man every day. Imagine that kind of waste load deposited in your back yard every day for six months from October until the May Thaw arrives.

In all fairness, since a Malinois is an ultra high energy, high metabolism dog, a 65# Malinois and an 80# Catahoula are pretty much identical in strength, energy consumed, and waste put down.  My paradigms have been pretty much the same for awhile.

There’s going to be a lot of dog shit to deal with.

Gunfights vs. Knife Fights, and Killers Will Be Killers

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Oh, let me play devil’s advocate today.

Nobody is ever going to hear gun control horse hockey coming from my mouth, pen or keyboard.

First of all I am a card carrying member of the NRA. I am all about 2nd Amendment rights, and even more so in the wake of senseless mass shootings.  As far as I am concerned, the average citizen should be armed, everywhere and at all times, so that it can safely be assumed everyone is packing heat. I believe there is no greater deterrent to gun crime than having the knowledge that a law abiding gun owner will return fire.  I carry and I will continue to do so.

The issue is NOT gun control, or who can have what weapon. It’s obvious that criminals don’t obey laws or there would be no murders, no thefts, no rapes, and we would all hold hands and sing Kumbaya. The fact about legislation is, laws only work for law-abiding people.  There is no way to legislate crime out of business.  If such a thing were possible, then as soon as God sent down the Ten Commandments to Moses all would have been good with the world.  Sadly murder is as old as Cain and Abel, and it has always been a part of the human narrative. It’s something called original sin, or to borrow from one of my favorite theologians- John Calvin (though I am not a Calvinist- I am more of a confessional Lutheran/ Molinist, I am with him on this one)- the total depravity of man. Given to our own devices, apart from the grace of God, human beings are intrinsically evil.  Anyone who doubts that, go to a daycare and watch a room full of two year olds interact, or go to an automotive shop and secretly observe the technicians’ behavior for a day.  You will see more depravity of man than what should ever be allowed.

One can make weapons more difficult to get, but ultimately it’s not about weapons. Deny the nut job his AR-15, and he will find a way to make a box truck and some fertilizer a weapon of mass destruction.

In the UK, where guns are banned, killers substitute knives like they are some kind of twisted Early Cuylers. Death and injury are easy to inflict on the fragile human body, and as those who work in corrections will attest, criminals are adept at creating their own weapons using anything from underwear to plastic spoons.

So do we ban box trucks or fertilizer or underwear or plastic spoons simply because some depraved jackwagon can turn these things into weapons?

Some will argue that guns are made for only one purpose, which is to kill. I am not going to argue with that, nor am I going to argue that one needs an AR-15 to go out and shoot a deer.  However, the 2nd Amendment was never about procuring venison, regardless of how tasty venison can be.  The 2nd Amendment was and is about the individual’s right to defend one’s home, family and property.  This means that an individual has a right to use deadly force if his or her life (or the lives of his or her family) is threatened. We have the right to self-defense.

The role of the gun as a deterrent is often overlooked, but whose house would a criminal plan to rob? An organized killer (one who thinks and plans ahead) is going to try to avoid those homes with guns and/ or dogs, because killing defenseless victims is a lot easier than fighting armed ones.

Gun laws or the lack thereof would have had absolutely no impact on Stephen Paddock or his carefully planned assault on the Las Vegas strip. Enacting knee jerk motivated gun control laws now is about as effective as closing the barn door when the horses had never been in the barn to begin with.

Spoiled Slackers, Thou Protest The Wrong Things

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I believe in the First Amendment.  I also believe that actions have consequences, and that rights come with obligations.  This  being said, the controversy about sports players protesting the national anthem speaks volumes not only on those who think it fitting to spit on the graves of those who fought and died for our country, but on those who approve of such disrespect.

Anyone has the right to protest anything, as long as that protest does not involve destruction of property or injury to others. Your First Amendment rights end when those rights interfere with my right to my person and property.  Even as despicable and odious as such “protests” that disrespect our nation and our Veterans are, they have the right to do it.  They also have the obligation to face the consequences of their actions.

Today’s younger generations – starting sadly with Boomers and GenXers, and to a toxic extent among Millenials, have no sense of history because history is barely taught. The rudimentary “history” taught in today’s public schools is nothing more than a leftist diatribe that condemns traditional American values, throws on an unjustified white guilt trip (reverse racism) while lifting up globalism and socialism. Both globalism and socialism are failed and defeatist systems.  The former USSR and present-day Venezuela are good examples of how leftist principles in government (don’t) work.

When one doesn’t understand history, and when the popular faux history that is widely taught demonizes American nationalism and American hegemony, and one mistakes celebrity soundbites for Gospel truth, any kind of poison and inanity can be easily spread around.  All it takes is for one jackwagon who would be better off sticking to carrying a football to run his mouth without consulting the facts to create a controversy that should never exist.

We as a nation should know better than to entertain the race card, especially when the accusations of “oppression” come from someone who has never known it.  I find it hard to believe that football players who make millions of dollars a year in the NFL are “persecuted” or denied opportunity due to their race.

It is true that equality of opportunity does not guarantee equality of outcome. One’s race is not a hindrance to education, employment or opportunities.  One’s culture, upbringing and lack of personal ambition are hindrances to all of the above though, which should cause individuals to look at him or her selves first.

Before you scream “Oppression!” look in the mirror.  It is necessary to ask, and not just of the black community but also of certain white communities as well who have bought into the governmental dependency cycle, to look in the mirror.  If you expect the world or the government to give you everything without you having to earn it, you are the problem.  Only you can fix it.  Not the government, not “whitey,” but you.  Rights have obligations.  Get off the welfare dole and do some sort of meaningful work. Put down the crack pipe.  Stop killing each other. Start working with law enforcement to clean up our communities.

Do you have the right to protest the national anthem and/or to disrespect our country and our flag.  Yes you do.  I also have the right to call you out for the despicable fool you are.

 

 

A Tired Theme: The End of The World for the Thousandth (or More) Time!

everythingsuckingPragmatism is my way of life.  It keeps me from having too much faith in humankind.  I may not be a Calvinist as far as my theology, but I go along with Calvin 100% regarding the Total Depravity of Man. Even though I intentionally try to avoid the news, because as far as I’m concerned mainstream news is nothing but proof that Orwell was right, I do have to go out and deal with people in places like Walmart.  Devolution has been going on ever since the Fall, and there isn’t enough chlorine to fix the human gene pool.

Let’s face it, most people suck.  If people didn’t suck, God wouldn’t have to tell us to be nice to them.  Being nice to other people takes work because they suck. I suck as well.  We all suck, which is why we are so crappy to each other. There are plenty of things in this world that completely suck too. Buck up, buttercup, and deal. I can buck the natural progression in subtle ways, but I can’t change the parameters humanity has been given.  As long as we are in these bodies, on this planet, things are going to suck.

I am wildly amused by date setters- people who think they have nailed the date and the time of the End of the World (even though Jesus tells us not to, and you don’t have to be a fantastic theologian to figure it out, just read Matthew 24:24-36 .)  Nobody knows when the world’s going to end.  I don’t particularly want to know, any more than I want to know when I will drop dead.  The surprise is part of the fun.

I am not afraid of death.  I just hope it’s a matter of going to bed and waking up dead.  Jerry was fortunate that way in that’s how he went.  He wanted to stay out of the hospital (especially after watching the hospital completely ignore his Dad’s Living Will and DNR orders) and he managed to do that.  Pain is what I am most afraid of- a long, suffering lingering death.  Pain and suffocation. I’ve always had a thing about suffocation especially because that was one of the torments my sisters loved to engage in when I was a little kid.  Just sit on your younger sibling until she turns blue and stops moving, and/or Dad thinks it’s getting too quiet, so he gets off the couch to investigate, sees that one of his offspring is losing consciousness, and makes you get up off of her.  What a fun game!

If I am given a choice I just want to go to bed and wake up dead. But that’s not for me to decide.

Our friend David Meade claims the world’s going to end tomorrow.  If that’s true then I shouldn’t have bought that pack of new underwear or bothered to stock up my fridge for next week.

I think I might just chill to the REM song End of the World as We Know It a few more times.

 

 

 

Strange Song Lyrics, Walmart, Livestock, and Back to 1981 (or not)

Guillotine-Names

I was just thinking what an interesting world it would be if I wrote trivia questions for money. I have stored away too much esoteric and ephemeral knowledge for my own good over the years. Making it multiple guess would be too easy.  I go for fill in the blanks, which at least requires some thought and/or creativity.

The first question I came up with? It’s a real blast from the past.

Name a song with the word “guillotine” in it.

I am sure there are more than one, but the one I am thinking of is, “Bastille Day” by Rush.

Even cooler is the rest of the phrase: “the guillotine will claim her bloody prize.”

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At least I used a cartoon. Lighten up.

Imagine the lyrics police on that one today, although it’s better than all the sister raping and cop killing in rap music. If you could understand the lyrics in rap music, that is.

I am dating myself in saying that, especially knowing that rap has been around since before Blondie and her song “Rapture,” and that dates back to 1981, when Reagan was President, Steve Perry was the hottest thing in Spandex, and all was right with the world, except that the cars sucked.

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Some things really suck about getting old. Since my car was trashed almost 3 months ago (yes I am pleased with the new Corolla, but still residually pissed about the perfectly fine 2014 Corolla that got trashed) I am finally feeling somewhat normal again.  Therapy for my shoulder did actually work, which I am glad about even though I have had to fight the other guy’s insurance for bloody everything and I am still hashing over various things.  I didn’t ask to get rear ended by some moron with a history of seizures who should have known better than to be driving.  I didn’t ask to deal with four or five full blown arthritis flares along the way either.  Thanks, asshole.

Maybe I should have gotten a lawyer, but I hate the legal profession even more than the medical industry. I refuse to refer to the medical industry as “health care.” They don’t care, and the last thing they want for their pocket books is for anyone to actually be healthy. The legal profession, insurance companies and the medical industry are all rip-offs, and all are in cahoots.  Follow the money trail.

Yesterday I saw another one of those displays of cross stitch patterns that are a bit on the dark side. I love cross stitch, but haven’t done it in a long time.  I would like to indulge in a nice cross stitch piece with a dark saying or two.  I saw one that had a cactus, then underneath it the word, “prick.” That one is funny. I am considering designing a simple one about being a sweetie and wiping the seatie if you sprinkle when you tinkle.  Then again, maybe a subtle DON’T PISS ON MY TOILET SEAT would serve me better.

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It’s been enjoyable being able to cook again- real food like beef and noodles or rotisserie Cornish hens, or grilled meat. Jerry was never pleased with anything I cooked, except sometimes bacon, and toward the end about the only thing I could get him to eat were chocolate covered mini-donuts. It was sad but there wasn’t anything I could do, and I felt like everything I did do was wrong.

I have said it before, and maybe it’s cruel to see someone’s passing as a relief, but Jerry’s truly was. He had been unhappy and ill and suffering for many years, and I bore much of the weight of his frustration and pain and sorrow.  When I see people who I’ve not seen in awhile and have to explain what happened I can’t pretend to be all grief stricken and weepy.  It’s not my personality anyway to be emotional and maudlin – yes, autistics get emotional, but not on cue, and not usually in any kind of “normal” appearing way.  I strive to keep my emotions private and sometimes I am so good at it I convince myself I don’t have any at all.  Then something taps the latch and the floodgate springs open at the most inopportune time.

I’ve had a few freaky dreams lately. The one about hanging out in a pen with a bull- yes, as in bovine-was especially weird.  Why was I the only one he would be docile around? Everyone else would just aggravate him and make him aggressive, but I could do anything with him.  Maybe it’s about boundaries or control issues- both are things at which I completely suck in the real world.  Being the bull master in dreams- not really the stuff power trips and fantasies are made of- but I guess I have to take whatever power I can get.

I’ve had that effect on dogs and a few cats, but I generally avoid animals larger than dogs. I have a healthy respect for horses.  It’s been years since I’ve ridden a horse.  I like them, but they are harder to read than dogs and there is a lot less margin for error with them.  You cheese off a dog and you get a warning snarl or raised hackles or any number of other warning signals.  Dogs are good at body language, even to the point of getting an autistic person to get it. Dogs normally want to help.   Cheese off a horse, however, and you are like as not to get kicked across his stall with little or no warning.  Horses don’t have to be nice.  They are only nice if they respect you.

Of cattle, I know nothing.

I never really had to hang out with cattle, except in Newark, Ohio.

There were, and likely still are, some Really Fat Cows there. Even 20+ years ago there was a stampede of heifers sporting too much cleavage stuffed into too small bras, and the parade of big butts hanging out of leggings stretched beyond reasonable limits was on.  It was when I worked in Newark that I could buy “dinky sizes” such as 10 or 12 on the clearance rack at the discount store.  I could also find 38D bras marked down which never happened in less ample parts of the world. It was also in Newark that I learned there is such a thing as women’s size 20 underwear, and that they could also serve as a car cover for my Corolla with room to spare.

Granted, morbid obesity is a thing in rural Ohio and it’s almost as bad as heroin or crack. People don’t have much to do other than watch TV, play on the Internet, screw, and scarf those dreadful greasy $5 pizzas from Little Caesar’s, unless they’re shooting heroin, making meth or smoking crack, that is.

There is Wal-Mart though. Wal-Mart is an endless source of entertainment.

Sometimes I think it would be funny to strap on a Go Pro in Wal-Mart and just see how it goes. What kinds of weird shit would I encounter?

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