"THIS SUCKS!!"

 All it takes is one scream of truth.

A blast from the past

Both her Blogger and Wordpress blogs seeming to be defunct, I shall repost this awesome story in full.  Just in case, ya know.

Submitted for your inspection, the story...of Jim.

This is the story of Jim. Jim was an average young man in an average American town. He earned above-average grades in high school, and went on to attend an average American college. Jim's parents, while not destitute, were in no position to help him with finances, so Jim worked full-time at an average college job to support himself, riding his bike to school, then to work, and then back to his far-below-average studio apartment to study, eat average college food, and fall asleep. The next day began the whole process again.

One day, while Jim was enjoying a rare free moment, his uncle paid him a surprise visit. Jim's uncle was a wealthy man, though no one quite knew what he did to amass his fortune. He entered the tiny rented room with a warm greeting, and sat on the edge of the bed. After exchanging pleasantries and small talk, Jim's uncle asked if there was anything he could do to make Jim's life easier. Jim didn't want to impose, so he politely declined. Jim's uncle pressed his point, saying, "Jim, I've known you for longer than you remember, and it pains me to see you having to struggle this way. Here," and he pulled a small black card out of his jacket pocket. Jim tried to refuse, but his uncle insisted. "Use this as you see fit," he said to the young man. They talked awhile longer about various family members and Jim's classes, and then, after affectionate goodbyes, Jim's uncle left.

Jim followed his uncle to the door, and shut it after him. He then turned over the small black card in his hand. It was a credit card. . . sort of. There was a sixteen-digit number on it and a magnetic strip , but no expiration date, no name, no logo, not even a signature bar. Just a wholly unremarkable, glossy black card. Jim wondered how it could even work, and then decided that he would not find out. He was determined to go it on his own, just like his parents had taught him. "Earn what you get, or there's no joy in having it," his father liked to say. Jim went to throw the card away, but hesitated. It couldn't hurt, after all, to have options, could it? That's really all he was doing, was being careful, he told himself as he put the card in his desk.

For months, Jim rarely even thought of the card. Then, one day he noticed a letter from the college in his stack of mail. Times had grown tough not just for Jim, but for everybody, and money was tight all around. Though Jim had carried his above average grades with him to college, they were no longer enough to maintain his scholarship. Jim sat crumpled in his chair, head in hands. He would have to delay his schooling and spend the next semester saving for the following term. The thought was not at all appealing -- hadn't he suffered enough? He worked his heart out and sacrificed so much; how could this happen? Suddenly, that little black card loomed large in Jim's mind. Surely it wouldn't hurt to use it for his living expenses. Not luxury items -- just the stuff he was already using. Then he would work even harder, improve his grades so he could get his scholarship back, and then put the card away. Other students lived on credit -- was it really so wrong?

Jim put his plan into action, knowing full well that he might regret it when the bill came. He determined he would cross that bridge when he came to it. He was a little nervous the first time he swiped the little black card, but it worked just fine. All he needed to do was sign. He stayed true to his word, using his credit judiciously. A month passed. Then two. Jim checked every day, but no bill came to him. Worried, he called his uncle. "Don't worry about it, my boy, it's all taken care of," Jim's uncle reassured him. "But..." Jim started to protest, but his uncle cut him off: "It's all taken care of. I meant what I said -- use it as you see fit. I'll tell you what: I'll arrange with your employer to automatically deduct payments from your paycheck, alright?" This eased Jim's mind, and he let the matter go.

In the ensuing months, Jim came to rely on the card more and more. He asked his boss to move him to part-time hours: With all his needs paid for, he could start focusing on his wants, and one of those was more leisure time. The money he earned could also go to wants, rather than needs. Jim felt as if the weight of the world had been removed from his shoulders. His wants, however, soon outstripped his income, and he found himself pulling out that little black card more and more often. The card seemed to have no limit; though his purchases grew progressively larger, the card was never declined.

Jim was coming out of the store after one of his larger purchases when he saw a man standing at a nearby intersection holding a cardboard sign. Jim walked over to talk to the man, and found that the man, Andrew, had fallen on hard times. He had lost his job, could not find another one, and had a family to feed, so he stood on the corner begging strangers for money. Andrew's story troubled Jim; he'd experienced hard times himself, and could not imagine having to face unemployment with a family to feed. Jim quickly told Andrew about his little black card, and offered to use it for Andrew's family's expenses as well. Andrew, overcome with emotion, threw his arms around Jim and sobbed thanks into his shoulder.

Word of the miraculous card spread quickly, and soon Jim was inundated with requests for help. Some seemed more legitimate than others, but who was he to judge? Jim accepted them all, and it seemed that in no time half of the town was dependent on the card Jim's uncle had given to him. Jim was thrilled that he could help so many people. Gone were his days of counting change for food; now, because of him, those days were gone for so many others, too. "This," Jim thought to himself one night, "is freedom."

Jim's philanthropic ventures weren't the only thing on his mind. There was a young lady he'd met in class. Sharla. She was beautiful, intelligent, kind -- everything Jim was looking for. And, though he could hardly believe it, she reciprocated his feelings. It wasn't long until he had a ring on her finger. Money no longer being an object, he made sure that their wedding was everything she had ever wanted. He thought nothing could have made him happier, but he had to admit he was wrong on that point on the day that Sharla gave birth to their first child, a darling baby boy who they called Sam.

Sam was just a few days old, sleeping in his mother's arms in their comfortable home, when there came a knock at the door. Jim ran to answer it and found a delivery man standing there with a package. Jim signed for the package, thanked the man, and went back in the house. He turned the box over to see not his name, or Sharla's, but Sam's. Thinking it was a gift for the new baby, he opened it. He was puzzled to find not gifts, but a stack of official-looking pages. He grabbed the first one and began to read.

Jim could feel the blood draining from his face. His hands began to shake. This had to be wrong, this could not be possible. He raced for the phone, punched in his uncle's number, and demanded that the old man get there NOW. Jim paced the floor while he waited, unable to continue perusing the pages in the box. Not possible. Not possible.

Jim's uncle knocked on the door in short order. Jim nearly wrenched the door off its hinges, grabbed his uncle by the arm, dragged him to the box, and thrust the first paper into his face. "How?" bellowed Jim. "How is this possible?!"

Jim's uncle stepped back, stroked his white goatee thoughtfully, and calmly said, "Jim, I told you it was taken care of. You never asked how."

Jim's eyes grew wide. "How could you do this to me? To him? My son, he's just a baby! How on earth can he pay this off?" Another thought gripped Jim, turning him paler still. "Half the town is living on this card! They depend upon it! I can't just cut them off! But if I don't..." His sentence trailed off as he stared in anguish at his son, who had somehow slept through Jim's outburst.

Jim's uncle nodded gravely. "I'll tell you what, Jim. I can help you with this problem as well." He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out another card, just like Jim's, but with a different number on it. "Give him this when he's of age."

Jim was flabbergasted. "You cannot be serious," he said. Another thought occurred to him, and he grasped at it like a drowning man lunging for a piece of driftwood. "What about the payments that were being taken from my paychecks?"

Jim's uncle laughed. "My boy, surely you don't believe you made this much?!"

"Well, no," admitted Jim, clinging to this last tiny piece of hope, "but it's got to count for something, right?"

Jim's uncle laughed again. "My boy," he said again, slightly shaking his head from side to side, "how do you think I've made my fortune?" He stuffed the second card into his stunned nephew's hands, nodded to an equally stunned Sharla, and escorted himself out, leaving a horrified silence in his wake.

And now I will ask you the question that was surely running laps around Jim's beleaguered mind: If you have to steal from and enslave your own children to achieve it, can you truly call it freedom?

Fortunately, this story is fiction.  After all, this sort of abandonment of common sense could never be possible in the real world.  An entire nation could only subscribe to this sort of twisted logic...

...in the Twilight Zone.

Captain Hook With a 12-Gauge

Repost.

In Ayn Rand's most (in)famous work, Atlas Shrugged, an unlikely hero by the name of Ragnar Danneskjold explains his mission in life:

"I'm after a man whom I want to destroy. "

"What man?"

"Robin Hood. ...He was the man who robbed the rich and gave to the poor. Well, I'm the man who robs the poor and gives to the rich – or, to be exact, the man who robs the thieving poor and gives back to the productive rich." (2.7.2.93-97)

I know exactly how Mr. Danneskjold feels. While I wish him luck on his quest, I have a target of my own to take down. I've been after this punk for years, and I won't stop until justice has been done. If it's the last thing I do...

...I'm going to kill Peter Pan.

Yep. Green tights. Flies. Hangs out with a pixie. That Peter Pan.

At first glance, you might be forgiven for thinking I've finally blown a critical synapse. Why the hell is the Wraith declaring war, not only on a fictional character, but on a cute, mischievous, puckish young man? "What," you may wonder, "did Peter Pan ever do to you?"

It's not what Peter Pan did, it's what he represents. Anyone who's ever heard of Peter Pan knows him as the Boy Who Wouldn't Grow Up. Now, this is a cute basis for a children's story, but far too many people in the Western world seem to have taken the message to heart--with disastrous consquences.

Back in the dim and distant past, children were children and adults were adults. There was a fairly clear demarcation between the two, and children couldn't wait to grow up. Rites of passage, like wearing makeup or the gift of a first knife, were eagerly anticipated. Children looked to the responsibilities of adulthood as a great gift to be worthy of, and parents did their best to make sure their children were equipped to deal with adult life independently. In short, childhood was considered a transitory stage, not a lifestyle.

Such does not seem to be the case today. We are now being overrun with Theoretical Adults; people who have reached the 'age of majority,' but who still dress, act, and worst of all think like children.

There is a vast difference between how a child thinks as opposed to how an adult thinks. An adult knows that life is not fair. That he is responsible for his own actions, his own successes or failures. That the only person obliged to take care of him is himself. A child lives in a fantasy world, where everyone gets exactly what they deserve and nothing they don't. Where there's always someone else to blame for his failures. Where he's simply taken care of, with no thought as to how and why. This is normal for children. They have not yet had the time to learn enough so that they can comprehend the bigger picture.

I shall illustrate with an example: Let us say our hypothetical child goes to the refrigerator and grabs a Mountain Dew. He has no idea how that frosty green can of flourescent yellow caffeinated goodness got there. His parents know that the 12-pack of Dew cost $4.69 with the Super Saver Card Club Member Special at the local Safeway. They know that the refrigerator runs on electricity, which is something they have to pay for and is indirectly related to the price of oil. They know that the refrigerator resides in a house which must be paid for, and that it's making that weird noise, so they budget for unexpected expenses, because they know that if the fridge dies or the roof springs a leak when they have no money to fix the situation, they're hosed. They know that the money for all this comes from the time and effort they expend in working at their chosen profession, and that every penny they earn represents a moment of their life that is gone forever.

The child knows none of this. He wants a Mountain Dew, so he goes to the fridge and gets one, and it's going to be there because he expects it to. That's it. Nothing beyond the immediate moment is of any concern. And this is how too many 'adults' continue to think today. There is no past to learn from. There is no future to extrapolate to. Stuff just happens, without any sort of cause or context. Welcome to the prevailing thought processes of our aforementioned Theoretical Adults--the disciples of Peter Pan. They won't grow up. They refuse to take on the mindset and responsibilities of real adults. They aren't going to think, and you can't make them!! Reality isn't the boss of them!!

Well, actually, it is.

A is A. Reality is real. Facts exist.

Too many people in the formerly-intelligent Western world have chosen to ignore these simple concepts, and in doing so, have repudiated their humanity. The one thing that separates us from the rest of the animal kingdom is our capacity for rational and coherent thought. When we give that up, we throw away what makes us human. We become voluntary, perpetual children.

Let's look at the totality of recorded human history, which stretches back 8-10,000 years or so, depending on which method of 'recording' you start with. That's a lot of time, however you slice it. Then, let's compare it to the history of the United States, which has been around for going on a quarter millennium. Why is it that America went from just another rebellious colony of Britain, to the dominant power on Earth in less than 250 years, while every other nation on Earth continued to wallow in the mire of statism? Why is it that this upstart country, with its personal automobiles, personal computers and audacity to leave footprints on the surface of the moon, has rocketed past every other socioeconomic system ever devised by man?

Free Men. Free Minds. Free Markets.

That's it. That's how we did it. Our personal liberties were upheld. Our opinions, no matter how unpopular, were defended. Our right to voluntary economic interaction with our fellow man was considered sacrosanct. In the days of our Founders, this was considered an experiment, and a risky one at that. But it worked. The hypothesis has been proven correct, both by America's success and by the fact that the further we stray from the original Constitutional principles, the worse things become in our Republic.

Fact 1: A combination of limited government and free markets is the recipe for success.

Now, let's take a look at the statist, Marxist/Leninist philosophies--socialism, and its big brother communism. Notice that, where communism has held sway, it has led to oppression, suffering, loss, misery, mass murder and devastation. Every time. While socialism's consequences are usually not as obviously horrific as communism's, I would argue that they are even more dire, simply because the poison spreads so slowly as to escape notice by most. This is often aided by ignoring, excusing or underreporting the prevailing trends of poverty and violent crime. Often, the trends are concealed until conditions reach the boiling point. But inevitably, sooner or later, the whole system starts to crumble. Even Fidel Castro, after six decades of ruthless oppression of the Cuban people, admitted defeat recently.

Fact 2: A combination of unrestrained government and market interference is an unsustainable failure.

These two statements are just what I have called them: FACTS. They are based on the laws of economics, which are, arguably, just as real as the laws of physics. You may or may not like the fact that gravity exists, but it does anyway, and you step off that ledge at your own peril.

Remember my comparison a few paragraphs ago? Adults recognize reality. The facts are what they are, and it is the adult's job to adjust to them, because it's never going to be the other way around. Children simply cannot comprehend this. They think that anything--including the retraction of all the basic principles of existence as we know it--is possible if you hope for it, wish for it...Tinkerbell will come back to life if you just believe enough.

This is a mindset fit for children, who cannot vote, enter into contracts, or be held responsible in any meaningful way for their actions. When this attitude continues past the legal 'age of majority,' it is very dangerous indeed, for this leads to the eventual rule of rational, civilized people by the irrational.

My fellow Americans, we are being ruled by a mob of mentally unbalanced children, and this has to end now. We, as a people, need to grow up. We can no longer afford the luxury of living in Never-Never Land. There is no Santa Claus. There is no Easter Bunny. There is no Tooth Fairy. There is no such thing as a free lunch, and there is no such thing as sustainable socialism. That politician who promises to take care of you? Haven't you noticed he smells funny, and that van he's driving has no windows in the back? Turn down his candy, scream your head off and run like hell. Despite his carefully crafted smile and promises, what he has planned for you--for all of us--is something you don't even want to imagine.

That's why I'm gunning for Peter Pan. Because the fantasy that we can all be eternal children is ageless, and it has destroyed one great nation after another. One by one, some of the most advanced civilizations the world had ever seen succumbed to that siren song of dependence; of ignoring responsibility in favor of the distractions of the moment, of believing that one could simultaneously be a free man while entrusting his fate to others. Peter Pan is simply that poisonous mentality personified, and America ain't big enough for the both of us.

Discuss.

A Blast From The Past

A repost regarding exactly why I started this collection of ramblings:

The 'Productive Class' and why we're revolted.

I am, as some might have deduced, an admirer of the works of Ayn Rand.

Note that I am not necessarily an admirer of the woman herself. By most accounts, Rand got high on her own supply of publicity and ended up acting like much like the intellectuals she despised. The woman who laid out the philosophy and principles of Objectivism("To put nothing--nothing! above the verdict of my own mind.")wound up shutting her own mind to anything but her own theories, blacklisting anyone who disagreed with her even slightly, and was generally a hateful bitch. So, I'm not a 'Randian' by any stretch of the imagination.

But it's hard to fault the basic premises of her work. And lately, the USA is starting to resemble more and more the dystopian horrors contained--predicted?--in her magnum opus Atlas Shrugged. Besides, it's been said that

It's my estimation that every man ever got a statue made of him was one kind of son of a bitch or another. --Malcolm Reynolds

I'll admit that Atlas Shrugged is, frankly, a pretty horrendous book to slog through. There's two ways highly intelligent people deal with the rest of the world. When you don't have an ego, you think everyone is as intelligent as you are, and have no idea why your tangent on theoretical quantum laser astrophysics is resulting in deer-in-headlights-stares from the entire room.

When your ego spans entire galaxies, however, you believe no one is as smart as you are, and therefore, you have to bring every single point home with a pile driver. If you want to read Atlas Shrugged, and I really think you should make the effort, I recommend you start here, with Francisco d'Anconia's "Money Speech." Then follow with the radio address at the beginning of Part III. This is the mysterious main character John Galt letting the world know that he has destroyed it, and the reasons why. It's the whole basic premise of the book, and will give you an idea of what you're in for. Then start from the beginning. That's how I ended up having to do it.

Many people either just read the Cliff Notes, or had someone read the book to them and fell asleep in the middle, or are outright misrepresenting the truth for their own questionable purposes. These people believe, or at least maintain, that John Galt's strike was a strike of the 'rich against the poor.' Anyone who has read and comprehended this book finds this description laughable.

Plenty of poor folks wound up on Galt's side, and plenty of rich folks didn't. The strike was that of the Productive Class against the looters.

The Productive Class doesn't just include company owners, industrialists, inventors and the like. It includes waitresses, truck drivers, construction workers...it includes anyone who pays their own way in the world. It includes anyone who produces more than they consume. It is we, the Productive Class, who make possible the lives of those who live off of us.

Read that last sentence again. If it were not for those of us who work for a living, ie; produce a good or service and exchange it in an atmosphere of voluntary mutual consent, the looters would not survive. Lest anyone become confused, the exchange doesn't necessarily have to be monetary--a traditional housewife, for example, isn't earning a paycheck per se, but by keeping house, raising children and the like, she is exchanging her effort for support. (Hopefully, the intangible benefits inherent in a loving relationship are part of the exchange. They should be, anyway.)

When I speak of the looters, I am describing those who contribute nothing, yet expect everything. Who take large portions of our earnings, under threat of violence, in the name of some nebulous 'greater good.' Who believe that they are entitled to the results of the effort of others, simply because they cannot obtain these results on their own.
In the not-too-distant past, people were expected to do for themselves. To not earn your way in the world, and to live off the largesse of others, was considered shameful. This ensured that the minimum amount of people would attempt to make a lifestyle out of parasitism, and those who had fallen on hard times through no fault of their own, would make every effort to get back on their feet as soon as they possibly could. But this was

Before the dark times. Before the Empire. --Obi-Wan Kenobi
 

Once private charities began to be replaced by government handouts, it wasn't long before an entitlement mentality developed. No longer were people considered losers for not supporting themselves. They were now considered helpless victims. They didn't have to show up, hat in hand, at a church or charity...'society' owed them a living. Nothing was their fault, and they couldn't possibly do for themselves anyway. When you tell people that they're victims, and condition them to expect that any effort they put forth is doomed to failure, is it any wonder that this is the result?

But the programmed-to-be-unmotivated welfare/WIC/EIC/etc. recipients are a drop in the bucket compared to the real looters. Any 'businessmen' who seek government regulations to stifle competition, or who want grants, handouts or subsidies because they can't compete in a free market with free choice? Looters. Federal government agencies not specifically authorized by the Constitution? Looters. Any company or organization of any kind that could not survive without government funding or support? Looters.

The looters need us. We do not need them. This is why they believe, and espouse, that 'need' evokes some kind of claim on those who aren't in 'need.' Wrong. If you think you 'need' something, you can work for it, you can trade for it, or you can attempt to persuade someone why they should provide it to you. But if you think it's acceptable in the slightest to take something from me by force(or threat thereof), simply because you claim you 'need' it...well, so does a rapist.

I have no problem with true charity. I've been both the donor and the recipient of it. But 'charity' collected at gunpoint is simply theft, and--as you're now no doubt aware--I call it as I see it. So now, when I refer to the 'Productive Class' and the 'looters,' you'll know what I'm talking about. And call me whatever names you want, but please at least try to come up with something original.

How we screwed ourselves

It's been a year and a half since this cautionary tale surfaced(and I still think it would make a totally badass old-school Twilight Zone episode).  Time to post it again.

Jim could feel the blood draining from his face. His hands began to shake. This had to be wrong, this could not be possible. He raced for the phone, punched in his uncle's number, and demanded that the old man get there NOW. Jim paced the floor while he waited, unable to continue perusing the pages in the box. Not possible. Not possible.

Jim's uncle knocked on the door in short order. Jim nearly wrenched the door off its hinges, grabbed his uncle by the arm, dragged him to the box, and thrust the first paper into his face. "How?" bellowed Jim. "How is this possible?!"

Jim's uncle stepped back, stroked his white goatee thoughtfully, and calmly said, "Jim, I told you it was taken care of. You never asked how."

Read the whole chilling thing.  This is how America fell.

Rand on Christianity

Not what you might think.  Observe, below the fold, this letter written by Rand to a Reverend back in 1943...

A Market Ticker blast from the past

Mr. Denninger recommends you read this old post.  As do I.

There are approximately 150,000 federally-attached law enforcement personnel.  Another 750,000, roughly, state and local cops are employed by our various government arms.  Of those various officers well more than half sit behind a desk and haven't left one gram of shoe leather on a street or in a cruiser in the last year.  The majority of you fire your weapons for periodic qualification and they have never been warm or dirty besides.  You've never faced death, you've never had a weapon pointed at you in anger, and you've never drawn your service weapon in the line of duty.  Those are facts.

Now consider the "bad side" of America.  The Justice Department estimates there are at least one million gang members - active gang members - in America.  These people, mostly young males, have nearly all drawn or fired weapons in anger.  They are responsible for more than three quarters of all crime in this country, and some eight out of ten violent crimes.  Those gang members have families - younger males who are "coming up", "friends" (if you can call a murderous thug a friend) and others.  Between all of those "loosely attached" folks and the hard-core inner circle itself we probably have somewhere between 5 and 10 million people in this nation who, given the wrong sort of provocation, might decide that "Zombieland" wasn't just a movie.

...

To the politicians who are reading this, your Thorazine dosage needs adjustment as well.  The math is irrefutable.  If, in point of fact, AIG has entangled itself with the European Continent there is no escape from what is to come.  There is only destruction, and our only two choices are to cause as much of it as we can to occur there, by pulling the plug on these clowns now, or risk a literal World War.  We may get one anyway, but if we bring the bulk of the damage here we'll be dealing with a civil collapse at the same time, and have no chance of being able to deal with the geopolitical implications.  We must not allow that to happen.  You must not allow that to happen.

We understand you give the orders to the people I've been talking to (mostly) up above.  But you have less excuse than they, when it comes to oaths.  You all took an oath to uphold The Constitution as well.  You've used it as toilet paper, and that's on a good day.  The rest of the time we see you gleefully burning it in the Wells of the House and Senate, dancing around the smoke and fire like some odd pagan ritual.

It's time to stop.  Not because you want to, not because you fear us (even though you should - after all, we're your employers and can fire you) but because if you don't there won't be a nation worth governing left.  You know who the crooks are - including those among you. 

Much, MUCH more here.  Points worth pondering by all.

The storm is gathering.

Primary season is bearing down on us with a quickness.  Lots of information--some true, some not--will be flying at us from all directions.

With that in mind, please familiarize yourselves with the tactics of the "Concern Troll."  They'll be out in force pretty soon.

Given current events...

...I decided it was appropriate to give you an encore presentation from the incomparable LtC Allen West.


Learn it.  Know it.  Live it.

My own personal bitch-slap

Let's review some history.  Here's the start of the squabble:

http://productiveclassrevolt.blogspot.com/2011/02/should-i-laugh-or-cry.html#more

About a month or so later, when I've ceased giving a damn about this fool and his pathetic attempts at rational thought, he finally responds.  On his own page, natch, with no attempt to let me know it.  Just like last time.

I offer my commentary, and his response, here:

How about you, Wraith, are you in touch with the Lord on these things too? Has the Lord told you it's OK to hate all Muslims? How about blacks and gays and liberals? You hate any of them too?Well, I'm a very recent Christian, having spent the first 41 years of my life as an atheist. So, if I am 'in touch with the Lord,' it's still in the baby-step stage.

As it happens, I don't hate anyone. I do, in fact, denounce any 'culture' that incorporates and encourages gang rape, cutting off the clitori of infant girls, and murdering people for being raped, being gay or daring to question the dominant religious paradigm. The question is, why do so many liberals defend these things?

As for your other snide remarks, I've sucked enough dick to realize that hating gays would mean hating half of my bisexual self. And of course I hate Black folks...that's why two of my three hopes for the Presidency in 2012 are LtC Allen West and Herman Cain.

Next time you want to talk about me, you might want to get my attention so we can have one of those civil discussion type things. As I'm well aware of liberal habits(deleting or altering comments their tiny little minds can't argue with), I'll be posting this unedited on my blog. Just FYI.

------------

Wraith, Sorry it took me so long to get back to this one. I'll check out your blog where I'm sure by now I'll find your apology for having accused me wrongly of altering and deleting comments. This one of yours was posted the day you sent it.

See, folks, here's a fantastic example of Leftist tactics.  (Emphasis in my last paragraph above, added.)

Please read my post and find any example of my accusing MB3K, in particular, of altering and/or deleting comments.  You can't, because there isn't one.  I simply pointed out that it is a common tactic of those in his particular school of "thought."  Yet, he insists that I acused HIM, personally.  Interesting--to a Leftist, it really does seem to be all about them.

Notice that MB3K takes three weeks to respond, doesn't even bother to notify me that he did so(sorry, sweetie--I don't peruse the blogs of my philosophical opponents in an OCD frenzy.  I have a life), and tries to come off like he has some sort of moral high ground.  Bullcrap.  He's hoping I didn't notice this, because he's pissing his panties at the thought of throwing down in a real live debate with an ex-Leftist--someone who knows his tactics, how to counter them, and who is just itching to expose them for the benefit of his opponents.

Furthermore, notice that he doesn't respond to one single counterpoint I raised--he's too busy demanding that I apologize for something I never did in the first place.

I ask you again, Mikey...if you really want some of this, let's get busy.  Leave a comment--for real, this time, and we'll go at it.  You post it on your blog, I'll post it on mine.  That way, neither of us can get away with the alteration or deletion of each others' words. 

Step up or step off, bitch.

Because we need to see it again.

In case you didn't catch this earlier...

Angelaisms put up a post some time back that should be branded on the brainpan of every American.

I will not reproduce it here--go forth and follow the link.  It's 10 minutes out of your day, 15 if you read slow.

It explains our current situation in true and chilling terms.  Read it and make it viral.

Do I have readers in Brandon, MS?

Just wondering.  Because it seems like this post has served as some inspiration.

Or maybe a spontaneous outbreak of common sense happened.  Who knows?

Retaliation? For speaking one's mind? Inconcieveable!!

Looks like complaining about the TSA's totalitarian policies will earn you additional scrutiny.  I am simply shocked and amazed.  Next thing you know, they'll be molesting children or something.

Tell you what, TSA employees--how about you read this and comprehend it if you can.  And while you're at it...bite my crank.

(I made the decision long ago that I would never fly again as long as the TSA existed.  I have now made that a certainty.)

Should I laugh or cry?

I first refer you to this post from a while back.  While browsing back through my blog, I noticed that our buddy Mike linked to me and gave me a post of my very own!  (Mask) "Thank you...thank you!  You love me!  You really love me!" (/Mask)

Given the habits of Libs to delete, ignore and alter commentary that hurts their pretty little feelings, I'm going to post everything up here as I find and respond to it.  Let's see what happens...!

An anniversary!

Yes, it's the 163rd anniversary of  "We Kicked Your Pinche Asses And Paid You On Top Of It" day.

In which I necropost myself

Remember this post from way back in the day?

I now have an even better retort.

Served.

I missed this the first time around

Courtesy of Don't Tread On Mike, I bring you Erica Goldson's graduation speech.  This young lady, indeed wiser beyond her years than she gives herself credit for, explains exactly why our children will never be truly educated by America's public schools.  No matter how much money is wasted, how many programs are offered, how many teachers we hire--the system itself is broken.

Common sense

Daddy Bear haz it.

This is actually an older post, brought up by a current post. When sections of America are literally being designated 'no-man's-land' because of the actions of foreign invaders, I don't think it's too much of a stretch to consider ourselves at war.

What have they done for you lately?

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.