Author: Sarah A. Hoyt

A Place to Start By Amanda S. Green

Yesterday, we celebrated the 243^rd anniversary of our nation’s independence. The road here hasn’t been easy and there are a number of people, including a number of politicians, who would dearly love to see this be the last anniversary we celebrate.

Too many want to erase our past because it isn’t “convenient” or “comfortable” by today’s standards. Works of art are being painted over in major cities because they might make someone feel uncomfortable. The names of authors and literary innovators are being stripped from awards because they acted within the norms of their day, norms that are no longer “accepted” today.

This attempt to erase history doesn’t cure the so-called problems of the day. All it does is bury it and prevent us from learning from past mistakes. Instead of burying our heads in the sand, we should be taking a hard look at what happened and why and find the best way to prevent it from happening again.

It means standing up to the loud voices of the vocal few who demand the sanitization of our history and looking long and hard at their motivation. It means often putting ourselves out and taking stances that might not make us any friends in the other camp but that will spark those who have yet to make up their minds to think about the issues and the facts behind them. This is something Professor Thomas Sowell does very well, and we would all be better off if we’d follow his example.

But how do we do this? That’s the million-dollar question and one I’m still looking for the “right” answer to.

What I do know is this, we have to take that first step. We have to read him and others who share his world view. The problem is it is easy to be scared away from many of Professor Sowell’s writings if you aren’t already familiar with his work. After all he writes about—gasp—economics. If you’re like me, your eyes glaze over and you get terrible flashbacks to bad college Econ classes at the very thought of reading anything dealing with economic theory.

Honestly, that was one of the reasons I didn’t start reading him sooner. Then I lucked into reading some of his newspaper columns. I’d missed them because they weren’t hitting the press down here, at least not the newspaper my family took. Once I found his articles, I started searching for more of his work to read. That lead me to his books and, well, the rest is history.

I guess this is all a way of saying I have a starting point for you if you’re a little intimidated at the thought of starting off with one of Sowell’s other books. That starting point is a collection appropriately titled “Controversial Essays”.

This collection lets you pick and choose what topics you’re interested in. Professor Sowell covers everything from economic to racial to education to social issues and everything in between. Also, these are shorter essays than you will find in many of his other books, making for quicker reads. And that is what makes this an excellent starting point if you haven’t yet begun reading Professor Sowell.

So I will start with the end of the book, entitled “Random Thoughts”, to point out not only how astute Professor Sowell is but how keen his sense of humor happens to be.

The first big Washington scandal of the 20th century was the Teapot Dome scandal of 1921, which led three members of the Harding administration to commit suicide. Today, they would just consult their lawyers and spinmeisters, and then start making the rounds of the talk shows in order to confuse the issues. (CE, p. 301)

Ain’t it the truth?

Take HRC’s e-mail scandal. Before instant media coverage and spin—please, take media spin and preferably bury it far, far away—there is little doubt Clinton would have resigned and left the public eye. Instead, with media backing (not to mention the support of the DNC), she ran for president. She came too close to comfort to being the person sitting in the Oval Office.

Politicians use scandal as a springboard for their future plans instead of actually taking responsibility for their actions and withdrawing. While I don’t advocate that they kill themselves, think about how much better our political scene would be without these SOBs and the media spin that keeps trying to “rehabilitate” them.

In a democracy, why should one group of citizens carry more weight than a similar number of other citizens, just because they are willing to take to the streets and block traffic? (CE, pp 301-302)

When I read this quote, I thought about some of the BLM protests that shut down major roadways, putting who knows how many people in danger because they couldn’t get to medical help, etc. I thought of some of the Antifa protests as well. Why do certain local governments allow them to get away with behavior that is against local and possibly state law and yet crack down on their more conservative counterparts? Why does the media allow this inequity to go unchallenged? (I know the answer but these are questions we need to be asking just as loudly as the other side screams it is their right to act this way.)

It is bad enough that so many of our public schools offer nothing to challenge smart students. What adds insult to injury is that, when these students become bored and restless, this boredom is given the fancy name “attention deficit hyperactivity disorder” and the students are drugged with Ritalin. (CE, pg 302)

This hits one of my hot buttons. I know, I know, I have more than my fair share of hot buttons, but education is right at the top. I was one of those smart kids. In those classes where I got bored because the district would rather dumb down the curriculum than give teachers the ability to adapt to meet each student’s needs, my grades went down. I got in trouble in some because—duh—bored and acting out. Why? Not all those teachers would let me read when I finished the assignment. I had to sit there and “act like a lady”. SNORT!

Fortunately, this was before the knee-jerk reaction of educators and counselors was to label a kid ADD or ADHD. We got detention or more work assigned to us. Our parents were called in for meetings with the teacher. But at least we weren’t drugged.

Unfortunately, the desire to move standards to the lowest common denominator continued and that is when the labeling and medicating began. Our public school system has fallen when it comes to quality, mainly because the state and federal governments have pushed themselves further and further into what should be a local issue. We’re not talking funding, we’re talking test result requirements, someone in Austin telling a district in El Paso or Blue Mound how to teach students they’ve never seen. If it doesn’t look good on paper, it must not work. That is the attitude these pencil pushers have and it has ruined more than one generation of students as a result.

Because of the neglect of history in our educational system, most people have no idea how many of the great American fortunes were created by people who were born and raised in worse poverty than the average welfare-recipient today. (CE, pg 302)

Not only duh, but DUH!!!

Of course, if we actually taught this, it might undermine the welfare state we’ve been moving toward for most of the last century. The liberals don’t want that and the media, the liberal mouthpiece all too often, obviously doesn’t want it either. We, as conservatives and libertarians, have been silent too long on this issue.’

Sure, we’ve taken steps to protect our own kids from this form of brainwashing. We’ve either homeschooled or we’ve supplemented their education with materials to counter the propaganda they get in school. But that doesn’t help those who aren’t in a position to get the same benefits as our kids. Instead of simply withdrawing from a system that is broken, we need to find ways to fix it. It means getting involved with our local school districts, with finding out about state school boards/boards of education/whatever and it means letting our voices be heard.

The other day someone—and I’m looking at Sarah because I think it was her—made a comment that these loud voices we keep hearing belong to a relatively small number of people. It reminded me of the “silent majority” speech from my childhood. Or to put it another way, it is time for us to stand up and let our voices be heard.

More than that, it is time to stand and demand we be heard. We are not just old white men. We are people of color. We are female and male, gay and straight and everything in between. We simply happen to not believe in the propaganda that everything from the past is evil and we have to erase or rewrite history so it conforms to today’s so-called standards.

Ask yourself who sets these standards. Now ask yourself why we stand by and let them do so unchallenged. Then remind yourself that it isn’t really unchallenged. 2016 showed that. A large group of our fellow Americans stood up and let their voices be heard at the polls. The liberals are still trying to erase that election because it didn’t go the way they wanted it to.

Are they pushing us toward a second American civil war? The answer is yes. What is uncertain is how far things will go. Will it turn into a shooting war or will it be one determined at the polls and in the courts? Time alone will tell for certain. In some ways, I feel they won’t be happy until shots ring out. But then I look back a few decades and see that as bad as things are right now, it is nothing like what we saw in the 60s in parts of this nation. It certainly has nothing on what parts of the country saw in the 20s and 30s. The difference is the media and social media.

So we act now. We act by reading authors like Sowell. We spread their work as far and wide as we can. We learn from them, not only when it comes to facts and theory but in how to present them. But most of all, we speak out. We let our voices be heard. We show up at the polls, not just to vote but to be watchdogs. We use social media and conservative media outlets to shed light on the tricks and antics of the other side. We use boycotts of program sponsors the same way liberals do and let’s start with Nike (okay, that’s my pet bitch right now. I’m tired of seeing them giving in to Kaepernick and giving him more and more credibility).

Next week, I’ll be off the meds from my surgery and better able to give Professor Sowell’s work the attention it deserves. I’ll spend a couple of weeks discussing his “Controversial Essays”. After a brief interlude for something a lot less palatable (and there’s a lot to choose from), I’ll return to Sowell’s latest book.

Until later!

We are not done.

This is not the end. This is not even the end of the beginning.

Sure, our left has gone rabid-insane to the point that they actually declare themselves “democratic socialists” (What kind of an idea is that. You vote for people who’ll expropriate more than half the country. Sure thing. And then what? Can you vote them out? No? Then it’s just socialism-socialism. Same old tripe with new stuffing.)

Our left has gone so insane that to bring about their imagined utopia they have decided to bypass the constitution with tricks to achieve “popular vote” thereby erasing the nature of our country as a constitutional republic, our interests as semi-autonomous states, and rule us from NYC and LA, with a franchise in Chicago.  Because yeah, even more than fraud-by-mail popular vote is an invitation to fraud. Our voting has never been clean. Ever. And with “popular” vote you don’t need to be able to cheat everywhere.  Just two or three foci of infection, voting 500% of the population (even Boulder is not that blatant but I’m sure some places in CA or the North East can and will be) and you’ve got the president you want.

And the presidents they want.  Just reading excerpts of Kamala Harris’ book gives me the creepy feeling you get when touching something unclean.  Her career of ignoring laws and running roughshod over everyone not in position to either bribe her or scare confirms it too. And look at AOC, primary among the young hopefuls for another presidential race in the future.  Occasional Cortex is not only dumb as rocks, the three brain cells she possesses she uses to fabricate bullshit about illegals having to drink from toilets. (And yet, somehow, not agreeing to just leave and go back where they came from. I guess these economic “refugees” were doing worse than drinking from toilets at home?)

Yes, it’s got far more fraught. People we used to be able to talk to are now unreachable behind the wall of indoctrination and just repeat mantras about “Children in cages” (Hello, Obama) or whatever. And anti-but really-fa is gamboling in the streets. They want to silence us and cut off our access to social media.  Lizard being Zuckerberg wants to make sure the results of the election are “correct” this time.

And this is just at home.  I don’t like the crackling noises coming off China. And whatever Russia is up to, you know it’s never good. They’re like the Vizir Iznogoud, who wants to be Caliph instead of the Caliph. They think ruling the world is their national destiny, when in fact being Iznogoud is their national destiny and their convoluted plots and strange machinations would be amusing if they weren’t dangerous for everyone, including them. Because they are, of all Europeans, worst at accessing countries-not-them and can’t figure out how we’d act or react.  Obviously. But they still cause trouble. And Europe is always and ever curiously vulnerable to them.

Look, I’m not saying it will be easy — I’ve never said it would be easy — and I’m not saying there won’t be clashes.

I’m saying the horrific point to which we’ve come is a good thing. It’s a good thing because it’s a sign they no longer have a death (and it was a death) lock on the industrial-communications complex, to include entertainment, art, and news.  This creation of the age of mass manufacturing, mass communications, was taken over by the left almost from the beginning, and the unified truth it proclaimed was moving us steadily left, at such a clip the next step was 1984-land.

New tech came just in time to unseat them. And it’s shaking them to the core, and pushing them to take off the mask far too early, and run around being crazy in public.  It’s horrifying to see what lurked behind sedate personas. But it’s good. Now we know.

Even education, their ace in the hole, is slipping through their fingers.  Oh, you might not notice much, yet. I did only because my kids ended up in “elite” gifted programs, i.e. the ones where the indoctrination was more intense (yes, they learned more of other things too) because this is where the new generation of “thought leaders” was being created.

Now, I’m the sort of mom who doesn’t volunteer, but did take the kids out for food, or brought them home for food after school.  Between older son and younger son, a difference of three years, things changed.  First, most of the kids in 11th and 12th grade in these programs were homeschooled. 11th grade was first time they were in public school.  And second, most of them treated the indoctrination like chewing gum. They chewed, but did not swallow.

There are other forms of information available, and the smart ones are finding them. They’re also discovering that the “system” they should be rebelling against is not some imaginary 50s conformity but the people who enforce speech and what they can and can’t do.

Now put yourself on the other side. 20 years ago they had it all, and all their readings (remember they drink the ink of their own cooked statistics and polls) showed things going their way.  Now, because they refuse to believe (perhaps can’t. Human cognition is amazing) that minorities, the young, and other “classes” created by their thought system aren’t “naturally” on their side, the world has stopped making sense.

They seem to be running with “it’s a nefarious plot, and they really want socialism.” But they realize to get it they need fraud. Fake-but-real votes? Which– Well… Perhaps they too are Iznogoud.

Which brings us to socialism.  Believe it or not, socialism and its big bad cousin, communism (there’s less difference between the two than the left admits. It’s a continuum.  Yeah, I know, “but in communism the state owns the means of production.”  Cute, but since in socialism the state controls it with regulations, six of one, half a dozen of the other. Same hammer and sickle sh*t in the end.)

Believe it or not once upon a time these were not only hot new “scientific” (despite the fact Marx never got closer to science than the fungus culture between his unwashed ears) systems.

It was self-obvious to the culture of mass production that centralized planning would work better, keep people fed and happier better, and increase innovation.

The fall of the Soviet Union put paid to that illusion (because despite the cracks and leaks, people still tried to believe in it) and send the left careening towards something that looks uncommonly like international fascism.  You know, the government controls everything with regulations, and tries to control your mind and thoughts, but we’re all one nation…

That lasted until it became obvious one-nation won’t work. This is in the process of proving itself in Europe, and if they actually HAD any young people (okay, they have some, but the proportion is dismal) it would already be playing out in fire and blood.  It might yet. My generation seems to still have life in it, and the understanding they made a horrible mistake and sold their children’s minds for a pot of message — and never had grandchildren — is starting to work on them like a hammer on an anvil. My guess is there’s still enough life left in them for fire and blood.

But it is bleak. It is very bleak. Because nations in Europe are nations of soil and blood, the convulsion to come will leave them maybe barely enough to rebuild. Also their mentality is different, it always was. They’re King’s Men. They give their loyalty and service to the leader, who then looks after them. This is dangerous, if you don’t find the right leader, and they’re having a heck of a time with that.

Here? This is not even the end of the beginning.  Yes, we’re being invaded. Yes, our idiots are trying to make love of our nation into “white supremacy” as though America were ever solely a white nation (depending on how you counted “white” which varied through the centuries, we might never have been majority white.) They’re trying to destroy our constitution, in one last, bizarre spasm of socialist fervor.

And?

We always had people in our midst that wanted to be European. And they ran usually 20 years behind the times.

The fact that they’re so open, so loud, so desperate, so fraudy means it’s the last spasms of a very bad system that would stomp on the human face forever.

Note I didn’t say it would be easy. I never said it would be easy.

But the system created here, in Foul, fetid, fuming, foggy, filthy Philadephia in 1776 has created the freest and most prosperous nation in the history of humanity.

What you’re witnessing in our own corridors of power (ah!) is just a late hit rebellion against the system itself. These are people who would be leaders, receiving your fealty and service and extending you their “gracious” condescension.

Well, we do know how to deal with those, by George!  We’ve done it before.

And we still have children, though the Obama Recession put a hit through our birth rate.  And some of them can even think.  Besides, our system is such we can always take other children, even those of the invaders, and make them ours.  We just need to stop cringing and mumbling about micro-aggressions, square our shoulders and believe in our nation, its founding principles and its ideals.

Sure, we’ve fallen short. What human endeavor hasn’t? But look at what we’ve achieved so far, and how much it scares the purveyors of oppression.  They’re raving insane, out of their funny-hatted heads, acting like the lunatics they always were.  And now we can see it.

Let Europe deal with itself. As for us, we’re going to get over this — perhaps with some set backs, sure, but we’ll fight.  We’re a fighting nation — and clean out the socialist infection from our body politic, our laws and our minds.

And then we’re going to the stars. Because that’s where we belong. It’s right there, in our flag.

Our flag is still there. It will continue to wave through the perilous night, even when all that illuminates it is enemy fire.

Be not afraid.

As you guys know, my minder says that to avoid con-crud, I must take two days more or less off, and the high holy holiday (the 4th) completely off.

I’ll do a promo post later, but for now…

On our plane out there was a medical emergency (which freaked me, because I thought it was a MECHANICAL emergency) and they announced “Is there a medical professional on the plane?” Only I understood “is there a mechanical professional on the plane?”

Once I figured out I wasn’t going to die right then, or perhaps live through younger son having to patch up the plane in flight, other thoughts occurred.

I confess I still haven’t come up with an explanation to the following announcement: “Is there a published novelist on board?”  I mean, what emergency COULD require that.

Some are self obvious, like say “Is there a vampire hunter on board?”

Or “is there a plumber on board?”

Write no more than 200 words in the opening for a story that starts with a really unusual “is there an x on board?” announcement, and explains why (while setting up the novel or story hook.)

Go!

Even if husband has told me I’m not writing for the next three days, and I’m not even going to complain.  2 cons in 2 weeks is REALLY tiring, particularly when the first was a teaching con.  Teaching is fun but takes it out of you.

So for the next two days I’m going to hang out, sleep and imitate the vegetable kingdom.

Some random thoughts:

I didn’t get to see Emily Nelson — not that I remember at least (most of the con is a blur) — which makes it one year out of 7 I’ve actually seen her.  Worse, when Steve said hi, I was plotting with Jeff Greason (you’d only LIKE to know why) so I couldn’t talk.

Next year at Liberty con!

Other passing thoughts: two cons, two weekends? Too much. I got there pre-exhausted.

More serious thoughts: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE if you’re talking to amuse yourself on an airplane, no matter how much your seat mate likes it, try to keep your voice down. Seriously. And you might think you know a lot about some subject, but if there is some controversy, still keep your voice down.

Being stuck in front of a gal for almost four hours, who wouldn’t STOP and lectured CONTINUOUSLY on history (she knew nothing about) and the theology of MY religion (Which she knew a lot of things about that just weren’t so. As in, yeah, she’s one of us, but one of those who read from the little red book, not the 2k yo one. I could only imagine her holding forth on either Portugal or SF/F as a more annoying thing) is something very akin to torture, particularly if this person is PROJECTING her voice.  The idiot seat companion who encouraged her (judging from after-landing conversation) couldn’t be heard as long as he was sitting.  (I mean I could hear him rumble, but… who cares if you can’t hear the words.) She OTOH.

It interfered with my attempts at reading. Wouldn’t allow me to sleep. And she wouldn’t ZIP IT.

My annoyance went from a great desire to turn back and tell her “Lady, if you want to hold forth professorially on your ill-formed opinions, get a blog like the rest of us, and then people can ignore you.”  to a desire to turn back and stuff my entire jacket in her mouth. And if the flight had gone on another thirty minutes, it would TOTALLY have happened. I’d be in jail now, but I’d never be convicted by a jury of the tired, jet lagged and annoyed. It might have turned into Murder on the Airplane Express.

And then we had to wait to debark, and the guy who’d been sitting next to her started extolling her intelligence while she patted herself on the back for reviving the “forgotten art of conversations on planes.” The sheer lack of self-awareness.  Don’t be that gal. Or guy. Or small furry animal.

My cats… my cats have been trying to figure out how to surgically attach themselves to me.

Greebo continue scolding me in my sleep and — I THINK — his, as he mutter-mutter-muttered all night long.

As soon as I have a firm writing schedule, I shall talk to him about it, and give him Martin Shoemaker’s bribe-tuna.  So he can concentrate on keeping me on schedule.

And now I’m going to go er… not-write.  Looks over shoulder.  Someone tell my husband I’m definitely NOT writing.

Sorry, I didn’t post yesterday or Saturday. Turns out this Guest of Honoring is hard work.  I kept seeing things my friends were doing, on Facebook, and going “Seems like a great con, wish I were there.”

But it was good. It was very good. As always my friends at Liberty con were very nice and very sweet, and I had a great time.

I’m three quarters asleep as I write this, and there might or might not be con crud in the offing, but I’ll be home by late afternoon (anyone want to join us for dinner at Pete’s?  No, that’s not serious. We probably won’t be awake enough for it, and anyway, who wants to have dinner with a zombie author?)

Oh, there is a Portuguese Restaurant, in Chattanooga, and because they chose the name Bela Lisboa (the city that is the rival and enemy of the one I was born in) it pains me to say that they’re quite good. They have a few dishes that I make differently, but you know… If you’re in the area, give it a try. (They are slow on the service if you show up with a contingent of your closest friends,which we did yesterday dinner  (I think there were 32 of us.)

I probably won’t resume my duties at instapundit tonight, but I should be back on tomorrow.  I should also be able to do a real post tomorrow, but if not I’ll put up the writing challenge and something fun.

And now it’s time to close the bags, hug whoever is still in the lobby goodbye, and head home.

Except for TVIW (which is not exactly a con) I’m done with conventions for the year.

A Few Uncomfortable Truths by Amanda S. Green

It is no secret that I’m a Thomas Sowell fangirl. I have been for a long time. But, over the course of the last few years, I’ve read everything by him I could get my hands on. If I could, I’d make him required reading for everyone, especially for every student in public school and in college. Unfortunately, I don’t have that power. The best I can do is share my love for his work and hope you do the same.

I plan to do a series of posts about his newest book, Discrimination and Disparities, over the next few weeks. Before I do, however, I want to share with you a site I discovered this morning as well as a few of my favorite Sowell quotes (and my thoughts on them).

Before I get to the site, let me start with this: I hate Twitter with a purple passion. I do my best to avoid it, using it only to share links to blogs and books. I don’t Tweet “discussions” or get into debates over there. There are better things to do with my time.

So imagine my utter joy and disbelief to find a Twitter account that is dedicated to posting a quote every day from Professor Sowell. Part of me was stunned to find the site—and to know Twitter hasn’t yet taken it down. After all, Professor Sowell does Not fit the narrative most social media platforms are dedicated to. He tells it like it is, using facts and data to tear down the “approved” narrative.

If you haven’t discovered “Daily Quotes from Thomas Sowell” bookmark the page now. You won’t be sorry.

The pinned post has one of my favorite quotes from Sowell:

If there is not equality of outcomes among people born to the same parents and raised under the same roof, why should equality of outcomes be expected—or assumed—when conditions are not nearly so comparable?

Think about that for a moment. I have no doubt we all know families where children were raised together and turned out very differently. I’m not talking merely having different personalities but different drives, moral compasses, etc.

For example, when I was born, my mother worked at the hospital in the small Oklahoma town she and my dad lived it. Dad grew up there (and I’m forever grateful they moved to TX as soon as they could). One of the women Mom knew was a sweet little lady who worked in “Housekeeping”. She and her husband didn’t have much but they made sure they provided their two sons with a safe and loving home. They worked hard to insure the boys went to school and, when the time came, had every opportunity to go to college if they wanted.

But, from early on, there were differences between the boys, no matter what their parents did to give them the same opportunities and love. One was the son every parent wants: kind, loving, dedicated, hard-working, will to step up and answer the call to serve his country. The other, well, wasn’t. He was lazy, unmotivated, wanted everything handed to him and stole from those closest to him.

One son didn’t wait for his draft number to come up (this was in the midst of the Vietnam War). He went down to the Army recruitment office and enlisted. He proved to be as dedicated and motivated in the Army as he had in school and at home.

His brother, not so much. He did everything he could to avoid the draft.

Guess which son ended up making the ultimate sacrifice?

These two were raised under the same roof, with the same values and expectations, the same love and discipline. Yet they were very definitely not equal on so many different levels.

So, as Professor Sowell asked, how can we expect equality of outcomes when circumstances between people are different?

Economics, home life, education, moral compass, intellectual ability, natural talent are all factors that will impact that so-called “equality”, something those preaching such a need for uniformity forget. I don’t know about you, but I’d rather have that inequality of outcomes, warts and all, instead of the Stepford Wives sort of society the progressives seem to prefer.

Another of my favorite Sowell quotes was posted the other day:

Increasing numbers of educators and the intelligentsia seem to have devoted themselves to undermining or destroying a sense of personal responsibility and making “society” responsible instead.

Going hand-in-hand with it is this quote:

Demagogues have always aimed their messages at the unthinking and the uninformed. Unfortunately, today that includes many of our college students.

Think about those two quotes and what we’ve been seeing, especially in public education, over the last few decades. We’ve witnessed a move away from teaching our children there are consequences to their actions—or inactions. We’ve seen them being taught that “every child is special” and “every child is a winner”. While the sentiment behind those statements is good, the reality is it has turned out a generation or more of young adults and teens who believe they should be allowed to do or say whatever they want when they want. They haven’t been taught there are times when they won’t be the best at something or won’t be able to get what they want.

By failing to teach them how to fail, and how to then pick themselves up and move on, we have done them a great disservice. We are reaping the consequences now. Want an example? Just look at some of our newer members of Congress. Ocasio-Cortez wants everything to be free, forgetting that if the government funds it, we are the ones footing the bill. There are others who would have us abandon our allies and embrace those who want to see our country not just fail but be totally defeated. When those who know better push back, these special little darlings cry “foul” and accuse us of being “bullies” or prejudiced.

And why? Because we dare remind them of the reality of their desires.

Sowell also doesn’t shy away from topics that have made him no friends in most liberal circles. Here’s another quote I wish the other side would not only read but consider with an open mind.

Dependence was seen as the key to holding the slaves down. It’s ironic that same principle comes up in the welfare state a hundred years later.

You can hear the cries of outrage now, can’t you? The liberals who continue to perpetuate the welfare state refuse to recognize that they are simply perpetuating the problem and, in many ways, making it worse. There is little to no incentive for too many “in the system” to get out. When states try to limit assistance or tie it to actively taking steps to get “off the dole”, the cries of outrage ring out loud and long. The media picks up the outrage and amplify it.

There is so much Sowell writes about that not only makes sense but points out how we have to stop the downward spiral certain parts of our political leadership has put us on. It is up to us to figure out the best way to do so. But the first hurdle is recognizing the problem. Then we need to understand the history of the problem. After that, we can start to determine the best way to undo the damage that has already been done.

Sowell isn’t afraid to speak the hard truths. I wish there were more like him, willing to step out of the shadows and face the attacks from the “right thinkers” because he refuses to walk in lock-step to their narrative.

I’m on the road on the way to Liberty con, and things I’ve heard over the last few days, a lot of it in private discussions with friends, wove themselves with the news caught earlier today (we’ve been on the road since three thirty am, and not a second to spare as we got off the highway at the wrong exit and then found that it being high road work season — Denver has two seasons, snow and road work — we couldn’t get back on and had to spend sometime lost at the distant edge of Denver).

In my fitful dozing on the plane, I woke up with a Leonard Cohen quote running through my head: “I couldn’t move to warn all the other soldiers, that we had been betrayed from above.”

But being betrayed from above is not something that warrants warning in our present situation.  We know it. All of the west knows it. And when the betrayal grows so deep and undeniable that you have to do something, and that the means of correction are taken from your hands, you find yourself donning a yellow vest and catapulting flaming Smart Cars at the arc du triomphe.  Mutatis mutandi, in our case, of course, unless we build one for the occasion.

This is not a warning. It is a remainder we’re in trouble deep.  Barring a miracle, things are going to get exponentially worse.  There will be confrontations here and there, ranging from BLM level blocked highways and nuttery to Beirut.  It will be worse some places. It’s not even a blue-red thing. I note that though Denver has the same nutty pro-public defecation laws as San Fran it hasn’t got as insane except in very concentrated neighborhoods. Perhaps because most of the locals aren’t amused, and the imported Californians are too stoned to count.

It is a place by place and area by area thing, and it’s not easy to guess.  The American instinct is to go and “hide out” in the middle of nowhere, but in all the collapses of law and order I’ve witnessed/read about, isolated homesteads were the most dangerous (as they are indeed in South Africa today.)

I can’t make the decision for you, you have to make it for yourself.

I still think in the end we win, they lose.  It’s not that we have G-d on our side, but that we have reality on our side.  And reality can’t easily be ignored. Not forever.

However, what previous generations allowed — we only got here for the culmination — the concentration of power in the left’s hands, and the acceptance of Marxism as a positional good?  yeah.  Even being fourth-generation oligarchy dumb — aka rock eating dumb — they have enough power to make things very painful for us.

I expect trouble to start around or shortly after the elections. There is no way we can stop them cheating. There just isn’t. If we try it just brings the mess earlier and harder.

If what I expect is what’s coming down the pipe, unrest will be isolated, sudden, unpredictable. Most of your days will be completely routine and normal.

So:

Get in the best shape you can: physical, financial, emotional.

Make sure you have a supply of medicines if they’re the kind you can get a little in advance.

If not, find alternate ways to get them, in case your doctor/pharmacy are out. Hint, most things are available on the net. It all depends on how shady you’re willing to go.

Don’t go out unarmed.  Now, this depends on the laws in your region, and also your licensing. Because you don’t want to throw yourself at the mercy of the system. But at the very least, carry a knife. Always.  Mailbox? Knife.  Groceries? Knife.

A weighted cane (or umbrella depending on where you leave) makes an excellent weapon.  And no one can deny you the ability to carry them.

Don’t look for trouble. If you round a corner and see people beating each other, run the other way (see why we told you to be in the best shape?)  There is no percentage in getting involved in violent incidents if you can avoid it. Unless you’re young and stupid.

Have an arranged rendez-vous point with family members, should you have to leave.

Keep your cars filled up.

Keep your pantry stocked, and an emergency supply on hand.

Do the normal preparations you’d do if you live in storm country.  But more importantly, be ready to defend yourself and the ones who depend on you.  To quote Robert A. Heinlein “Keep your clothes and weapons where you can find them in the dark.”

We can get through this and we must.  We must, because we must have a say in what is built at the other end.

As cathartic as letting it all burn might be, in the end you’re just left with ashes. We owe it to our founders and to our future not to let the last best hope of mankind pass from the world.

So–

Keep yourself safe. In what I expect to be economic warfare ahead (I got hit by it this year) lend a hand when you can. Mutual aid and comfort is a thing.

And most of all, be not afraid.  In the end we win they lose.

It’s just going to get a little fraught on the way there.

It’s okay. We’re the strivers. We’ll get it done.

And if it kills us, someone will pick it up after us.

In these halcyon days of calm we have left, rest and prepare.  Mentally, physically, financially.

Barring a miracle, the seas are going to get rough.

Don’t drown.

This post is being echoed here from Mad Genius Club, if you want to join the discussion there, also. Which you might want to do, if you’re a writer.

I don’t normally do that, but this week is crazy. We just came back from Fyrecon (and I’d forgotten how exhausting teaching is.  I mean, I love it, but I guess I’m out of practice — or just old — because it beat the living daylights out of me.) AND we’re getting up at 3 am to make it to the airport, to make it to Liberty Con.

If you meet me in Liberty con and I look like a zombie? Don’t shoot. I’m just tired.
And somehow in the middle of this I need to finish two short stories and a cover and iron and pack all the clothes, and do the boxes so lovely DIL and #1 son don’t have to deal with poo incidents.)

I’m exhausted, it’s been a very hard week, heck, a very hard year.  All I want to do is go to my office, close the door and write.  But that part is a good thing.

And it brings us to the theme of this post: If you love it, marry it.  Which is not about marriage but about writing. H*ll about any career, really, no matter what it is. But this is a writers’ blog, and it’s important to talk about this, because people don’t.

No one stays in love constantly. Note I didn’t say no one stays in love forever. That’s different. But no one stays in love constantly.  Not with a person, not with a career, not with a house, not with a city, not with a state, not with parenting/your children, not with your hobbies. NO ONE. EVER.I don’t know how many people are like me: when I thought of marriage — and I want to point I never thought anyone would be brave or stupid enough to marry me — I didn’t think of the dress, the wedding, the cake, the flowers.  In fact, I was so bereft of an opinion on this that other than preventing mom from dressing me like a cream puff, or alternately (because she thought that was my taste) like a nun, I let her run the whole show, from rings to flowers to cake. Because I didn’t care. I just wanted to get through it and then be married.

No, when I thought of marriage I had a very specific image in my mind: what I wanted to be part of.  I don’t know when I saw them, or even in what country, or for that matter how old they were, because if this was the 70s they might have been in their sixties (don’t let anyone tell you differently, people aged HARDER. They still do in many other parts of the world.)  But I was walking in a rose garden, and I saw a couple. They were both white haired, and walking slowly.  And they were not talking, but they held hands, and were obviously attentive to each other in the way you are when the other is important to you.

Coming from a family that had, at the time, never had a broken marriage, I thought it was like that.  You married, and then you were in love forever and ever, and it was all golden sunsets in a rose garden.

Unless you’ve never been in a relationship, I don’t need to tell you it’s not that way.

I’m not casting aspersions on my husband. He’s brave, possibly a little crazy, to have married me.  I don’t think he’s stupid. I also don’t think anyone else would still be married to me 34 years on.  Because I’m not an easy person to get along with. Like most brave, a little crazy and very very smart people, he’s not either.  And since both of us came pre-shattered, it’s a good thing we married young, when mind and emotion were still flexible and could be healed into a new pattern.

I love my husband very much. At the moment, I’m also very much in love with him, which is not the same.

There is loving, which is a constant thing. And there is being in love, which is a heady, silly thing, where you want to be together all the time, and can lose hours holding each other’s hand and…

The second one is effortless and dizzy-making and it’s what most people refer to as “being in love.”  And it comes and goes.

The first burst of it usually burns out in two years.  And no one tells you this, so many people when they hit that place, particularly if life is being difficult at the time, as it often is in early marriage — short on money, overworked, trying to figure out what the next step in career is, often having moved — think it’s over. They think they were mistaken about loving this person, that it was a mistake to get married, that they must get out and pretend it never happened.

These people often (not always. Some figure it out by the second marriage) go on to have a lot of marriages all ending between two and five years.

You see, they confuse the heady feeling, the sparks and electricity, the “my feet don’t touch the ground” for the thing that lasts forever, and when it doesn’t they think they’re doing it wrong.  And they don’t realize it comes back.  Note what I said above: right now I’m very much in love with my husband.  I’m lucky, this is on more than off.  But the off periods, what carries me through is three things: 1-I still love him, meaning I care for him. His happiness is still essential to mine. 2- I know the “in love” rush comes back and oh, my, is it worth it.  3-I am committed. (And sometimes I should be, in another sense.)  I gave my word, and I exert my will not to be forsworn.

I realized yesterday, when talking to the boys, that careers are the same way, AND NO ONE TELLS YOU THAT.  So, it’s even harder to understand/stick with it through the bad times than with marriage where SOMEONE might give you an inkling.

I think Kris Rusch was trying to tell us this … lo, 20 years ago, when she told us that writing careers follow the W curve, over and over again.  That is a plotting “format” where the character hits bottom, reaches top, hits bottom again.  In the plotting the W keeps going every up, even in the low points.  Is it the same in the real world writing career? Maybe? I’d be tempted to say no, but the only way I’ve seen it NOT be is if you give up, stop pushing, and/or are very, very ill.

But I didn’t understand what Kris was saying. Because I had no idea. And the understanding didn’t burst upon me till yesterday.

Now when I say careers and that this applies to all careers, I’m exaggerating a little. Because if you’re doing something to make money, but that’s not where your heart ever is, then it doesn’t apply there.  It’s like when they found out arranged marriages are often happier. That’s because you don’t go in expecting the “highs.” So, you accommodate easier to the lows. And I’d argue the happier. I suspect they’re more often “stable” and “functional.”  Which might be better. Or not.  I wouldn’t trade being in love for all the stability in the world. There is a high you reach, a thing of magic that wouldn’t happen without that.

So, this applies to all careers that are vocations.  I’m not going to argue what vocation is. It’s more than a passing fancy, though, or what brings you bliss. In fact, it’s often like a tragic love affair, and it doesn’t bring you bliss at all, as you bang your head on that wall. (Like 90% of my career. I have to pay for my luck in marriage, somehow, I guess.  To quote a Portuguese poet “Fate sells all that it gives.”) But it’s, to explain it to those who might not have grown up with the concept, what you were born to do. The thing that’s so much a part of you you can’t pull it off without stopping being you, and also being a little maimed your whole life.

If there is a grand, ineffable plan, this is the part you’re supposed to play.

Vocations can be for everything. I’m not actually kidding when I say I knew someone whose vocation was being a cleaning lady. She was almost supernaturally good at it, she was never happier than when cleaning other people’s houses, and she had always wanted to do it.

My sons, for their sins, both have vocations.  Perhaps it’s hereditary, since both their father and I do (and their father needs to get back to his math and music, which means I need to make a lot of money to get him out of indenture.) Theirs are not for artistic stuff, but they are for “arts.” In the sense some sciences are half art.

Both of them — as is the way of vocations — discovered them young.  They think they chose in their teens, but I saw signs going back to when they were toddlers.  (Weirdly so did my brother, who spends very little time with them because overseas.)

Along the way — and considering they’re both still in protracted training — there have been ups and downs. Both of them have come home with stars in their eyes and flying high after working — actually working — in internships or practice at their chosen metier.

And both of them have hit head first into bureaucracy (university scheduling, btw, is an abomination onto Noogan.)  Both of them have been tired, discouraged, confused, and tired of hitting their head upon a wall.  (Younger son just found out that engineers don’t find jobs through linked in.  This is driving him nuts because he doesn’t know HOW they find them.  And he needs a part time on for his final year in school, and is terrified he won’t know how to apply for a full time one when he’s done, either.)

I’ve found myself talking to them when their idealized vision of what the career would be — their dream career, what the work would be like in G-d’s ineffable plan — hits the very complicated times we live in, between government funding, private ventures, laws and stupid regulations, and people, always people.  People who are petty or malicious. People who care more for power-fiefdoms than for doing this job well, this magical thing that holds their hearts.

Usually I tell them it’s like that all over. I don’t know anyone that goes into their chose career and meets with nothing but unalloyed praise and success.  Or if I do, poor things. Because having it too easy in the beginning makes it hard to develop the resilience to last.

Worse, you fall out of love. Even if things are going well, the novelty wears off, and the mundane everyday of a career, like the mundane everyday of a marriage is not made of rainbow and sparkles.

There is comfort in knowing he’ll be there when you wake up, comfort in knowing you’ll have breakfast together. But if you’re seeing sparkles and hearing music, you should check your medication.

In the same way, you grow more competent, and you don’t notice. This thing makes up your every thought and you don’t notice. It’s hilarious, now that the boys are trained beyond the ken of mere mortals (or mom) to hear them decrying how much they hate their chosen vocation, then falling to thinking/explaining/speaking in the lingo of it, and in a way that shows they are OF it. They can’t pull it out without killing part of themselves.

Yesterday, I tried to tell one of them “you fall back in love with it.” “You recover the fire.” And he looked skeptical. So I asked my husband “How often have I fallen in love with writing, after hating it, or after periods when it was dead to me?”

Being a mathematician, he didn’t say “Many.” No, he thought and said “Seven. And you’re on the upswing of enthusiasm again on the eighth.”

And he’s right. There have been times I only continued writing because we needed to pay the mortgage, or baby needed shoes.

No artistic (or possibly any) profession is ever “fair.”  It is a meritocracy in the sense that when the stars align, you need a modicum of talent to hang on, to turn that curve, to stay on top. As a lot of the dahlings of the establishment have found, all that promo can get you ONE bestseller.  And then you stall.  Or worse, if you really have no substance, you fall.

But getting that push, or, in indie, getting that reach? That’s part luck, part personality, part timing, part… who knows?  So you can be a very good writer and never sell much.

However when I came in, between selling to the net, letting computers do the walking, push model stocking shelves with fads and books no one objectively wanted to read, publishing was in the middle of committing suicide (it’s getting there. It’s a slow death, as always for behemoths.)  And my career got off with a bad start with a book released around 9/11 and those numbers in the computer forever.

It wasn’t the first time I’d fallen out of love with writing. That had happened through the unbelievably stupid (on my side and theirs) slog to first publication: the rejections that made no sense; the ever stranger hoops you had to jump through to even submit; the years of writing three novels a year while looking after toddlers, rebuilding houses, refinishing furniture and moving every couple of years.

But I always came back. I came back in pain and despair. I didn’t KNOW that the love would come back. Or that the sparks and music could return. Sometimes I thought that it would be gritting my teeth and walking into the hurricane forever.

Weirdly it does come back. Sometimes a long time, sometimes very short. And sometimes it comes back mingled with pain, like a tragic love affair.

Eight times. I am fifty six. I’ve been at this, full-or-part-time, unpublished and published for 34 years. I’ve broken eight times. Completely and utterly to where even the thought of writing hurt, and each word came out as though pulled by forceps.

And there are days I’d trade it all for a glass of water, and it doesn’t need to be good water. But I can’t because it’s part of me. And that’s a good thing. Because some days I can’t wait to write and all the rest — even eating and sleeping — are a distraction.

I’m at the very beginning of my eighth time of falling in love with this crazy career.  Indie now, and the freedom, and I can do all these things I dreamed of when I was young. I imagine it’s like in marriage when the kids are on their own and you can have time for yourself (I imagine husband and I will find out, someday. ;) )  Also I realized, through teaching at Fyrecon (Utah, last week. Yeah, that’s why no cover posts. Sorry) that I actually no only know this craft, but I know it to such an extent I don’t know what I know. It’s part of me. And yeah, I love it.

I suspect there will be a longer period of being in love and the golden glow of it.

But there will come times I’m tired, I’m broken, again, and the sheer “everydayness” of writing means I feel I don’t love it. It’s just what I do.

Humans are firefly creatures, off and on, off and on.  Our continuity of personality is…. flaky at best.  I am myself in the essentials, probably, at least the last ten years.  I would probably b*tch slap the twit I was at 20, and not just on politics, either. But in a way this year of transition — aka year from h*ll — has been scouring and molding me and changing me, to the point I don’t know if I am the same I was a year ago. Let alone five, ten, 20 or 30 years ago.

Everyone is like this. Everyone changes with time.

If you want to do anything worthwhile, to commit yourself to something that lasts forever, be it a marriage or a vocation, you have to DO IT.  You have to make that promise. You have to wed yourself to it. You have to want it so much that you want it even when you don’t, that you stay with it even when it’s the last thing you want to do.

The alternative is to accomplish nothing that takes more than a few months and a passing enthusiasm.  And perhaps that’s okay, I don’t know.  It’s not a choice I have.

I am what I am and this is what I was born to be.

As my Mormon friends say “For all time and eternity.”

For better or for worse.  And you have to cross the worse, to get to the better.

But it will come.  The better will come again.

And then it’s all worth it.

One of the problems we’re dealing with with the left right now, is that they’ve lost the distinction between light and dark.

To explain: when I was taking art, our teacher told us, the first year, that you can tell most student art, because it looks washed out, like someone left it out to fade.

That’s not true, of course, but most students are afraid to use dark colors, particularly in big concentrations.  Because if you do, it can be so hard to lighten/soften them if you went too far.

OTOH, if you don’t use the dark, you lose both the light and the mid-tints. Without that contrast there, everything runs to a sort of grayish indistinct, a mishmash of stuff with no sense to it.

The problem of the left is that they started taking grey and calling it black.  Actually it’s worse than that.  They decided dark pink is black. Which makes the resulting painting a swirl of meaningless colors and tones.

Look, as long as I’ve been alive, anyone who runs against the communist/socialist/Marxist is “literally Hitler.”

Of course, the closest that the modern era has seen to Hitler, and far out-stripping him in sheer numbers, were the Marxists Mao and Stalin.  But it’s different when they do it, because their hearts are pure, I guess.

Seriously, the problem is this, and this is the reason that these comparisons make sense to them, even if your average Marxist does no actually know this history or the gestalt behind the philosophy he expounds:

Marxism billed itself as a scientific political-economic system. It was supposed to look at history and sociology and codify it in the light of science, and therefore be able to extrapolate what would happen.

And what would happen would be that the workers would revolt, take over the means of production, establish a dictatorship of the proletariat, and then somehow automagically, the state would wither away, and you’d have a stateless society where people had changed so much — the famous homus sovieticus — that they’d willingly hold all in common, economy would consist of people exchanging everything for free, from each according to his ability and to each according to his needs, and–

Other tommy rot of the sort. The thing was never scientific of course. You can’t have scientific history (you can have scientific economics, but it’s different from what idiot Marx thought. Economics is always descriptive, not prescriptive, as a science, and also what the man didn’t know about economics could fill several universes to bursting. The man had never run a lemonade stand or worked for a living. Among other problems the concept of distribution was opaque to him and led him to think distributors were “stealing.”) because you can’t know all of history. History is made up of a ton of little things. Look at the fall of the tsar, as an example (I had a rather disturbed dream about it, so it’s in my head.) would it be the same if the tsarovich hadn’t had hemophilia? If he and his wife had had three sons and one daughter, and one had been healthy?

How do you know? More importantly, how do you run the experiments, to compare and prove your thesis. You can’t.

More importantly, while you can look at a situation and take from it guidance to other similar situations, you really can’t assume they’re exactly the same. And it’s never, ever, ever prescriptive. You can’t say “I studied this old situation so this new one will be like this.”  And you certainly can’t make prophecies about the end of history and the new man, and call it scientific. or rather, you CAN if you’re a no-account grifter whose knowledge of REAL history and economics can be written on the head of a thimble with room to spare.

And what you write is not scientific and is self-serving religion.

The problem is the early Marxists, captured by the just-so story became fervent believers in this AS SCIENCE and as something devoutly to hope for.

No, really, these people viewed the annihilation of the human race as it existed (what do you think replacing it with homus sovieticus meant?) as a good thing. Probably because we’d crossed the threshold where you had to be sane to survive. The entire breed was technically too wealthy and was suffering from the disease of the sons of rich families: self-loathing and a belief in airy-fairy nonsensical just-so stories.

They also viewed it as inevitable. Anyone slowing it down was “reactionary”and “ignorant” and other things that meant they were standing in the way of “progress.”

Let’s get out of the way right now that Marx’s vision never worked as advertised. If you number the revolutions of the proletariat (defined as the industrial working class, but hell, I’ll even give you farmers) that have happened, you’ll count…oh, yeah, zero.

What we’ve had from Russia to China to the clusterf*ck in Venezuela is revolutions by grifter intellectuals (Marx’s chosen people) who claimed to be doing it in the name of the proletariat and who theoretically gave ownership of the means of production to the proletariat, while in fact keeping control and manipulating the vast, and increasingly more scared crowd of starving peasants to do their murder for them.

Which, btw, is what the left is trying. Because we don’t have starving peasants, they’re importing them by the million from the third world, in order to do a revolution in their name, and then claim that they are in control and it’s a “dictatorship of the proletariat” while in fact, the graduates of our ivy leagues do monstrous things to everyone and enrich themselves while destroying the nation.

Because Hitler declared war on Stalin, who was — of course — Marxist and therefore in their stupid little noggins a “good person” and “fighting for progress” he was evil.

They don’t really understand WHY he was evil. To do that, they’d have to understand his belief that he could manipulate everyone and create a new human race was de-facto evil, and if they understood that, they’d end up screaming in front of the mirror in the morning. So instead they attach to the touch-feel of things he did, without even understanding why they were evil, or how evil they were, or how destructive.

This is how we get idiot Occasional Cortex and the idiot Millenial Cultural Revolution Brigades who follow her, to think that putting migrants in camps at the border is EXACTLY the same as the death camps in Germany.

Because both Hitler and us not letting their chosen people in, in whose names they plan to get power, stand in the way of Marxism. Therefore we’re exactly the same and there’s no difference whatsoever.

Yep. Black and dark pink are exactly the same, even if no sane people would see it that way, because, you know, neither of them are yellow.

So we get, you know, people living in bunks and perhaps not getting to pick their menu, and not having the right board games, is the logical equivalent of death camps.  Not letting people of a different culture who have nothing to do with us and no claim on us waltz in and — btw — consume MASS quantities of our public services? It’s the same as taking your very own citizens, expropriating their wealth, making it impossible for them to work, and putting them in a camp where they’re either supposed to work to death, or be killed for their hair, the gold in their teeth and their bones which are then used as industrial materials.

They don’t realize there is a difference between saying “no, you can’t come in to our country” (which by the way EVERY COUNTRY IN THE WORLD DOES, because a country without borders is not a country) and putting people in camps where you feed them a paste made of paper and old clothes, to find out if humans can survive on that. (This horrifies me more than the ovens, because of the sheer CONTEMPT of it.)

They don’t even understand the fundamental difference: no one in America wants to exterminate everyone of Latin (or Latin American) descent. (The stupid crazy idea that ICE is stopping everyone who can tan and deporting them is in fact bullshit.  While younger son gets stopped a lot, it’s because he drives a red sportscar (it’s what he chose to buy. We TRIED to talk him out of it) not because he tans. Hell, I tan and have an accent, and I have yet to be asked to prove citizenship, including in situations where I should be, btw.) (Okay, maybe someone does, but there’s 300 million of us. So there is more than a thousand people who want us all to wear tin foil hats, and there’s probably the same number who thinks everyone who doesn’t have blue eyes should be killed.  The point is, they’re not in power, and most of them are okay if kept medicated.)  There is no concerted effort to round up legal residents and citizens (BTW I’ve found that millenials don’t know the difference. They think if you come over the border you automatically become a citizen. ARGH.) of darker skin tones and put them in camps from which they can’t leave except by dying. Hell there isn’t even a disconcerted effort. There is NOTHING.

The people detained at the border aren’t detained because we want to kill them and all their kind. What is their kind, btw? since we’re getting a mix of people from all over.

They’re being detained because we’re a sovereign land. That means this land is for people who share a culture and beliefs, or at least agree to abide by our laws (breaking through our border immediately declares you don’t, guys.) Furthermore, we as a polity, get to choose WHOM we let in.

Most countries have this. The minimum requirement is that you NOT go on welfare/assistance for x number of years (some places ten.) Then there might be extra points if they need, say, doctors, or English teachers, or something.  “We were told to speed these people along” is a thing.  I’m honestly iffy on that part, because it’s too much of planed economy and usually crazy, but eh, something we have the right to do.

I used to believe the thing that most illegals wanted to come in to work and not to take advantage of our welfare system. It might even have been true, at one time. But at least since Obama’s presidency, everything I hear from friends who intersect with this stuff from health professionals to education professionals, to social workers, is that 90% of our resources are being consumed by people who are here illegally and who not only contribute nothing, but can’t even understand they SHOULD contribute anything, because they’ve been propagandized all their lives that America stole all their raw materials or whatever, and that the poverty in their country is our fault. So they’re here to steal back their stuff, or grift it from us, all the while hating us. Because they were told it’s our fault, and they have a right.

This is part of the Marxists attempts to weaponize peasants, even if they have to import them.

It’s also the only thing that explains the caravans coming in singing their countries’ anthems.  IOW as an invasion force.

Putting them in camps is a bit crazy. We should be confiscating all weapons and sending them back under armed escort.  But hey.

And the number one difference between death camps and migrant camps? If you’re put in a migrant camp you can leave at any minute, if you agree to go back home. I think we even pay for the ticket.

To the millenials and convinced Marxists, no, this was not true in Auschwitz. Most of those people just wanted to go home and back to work and their normal lives.  The idea that Jews (or the other persecuted minorities) were “invaders” was just Hitler’s insanity. They were just Germans.

Wake me up when the US starts rounding up anyone who can tan, puts them in camps and doesn’t let them leave.

I’m going to suggest we start by rounding up Occasional Cortex, put her in a camp and not let her out till she can reliably tell the difference between dark pink and black, form three sentences coherently AND know a modicum of history not Marxist indoctrination.  And for the love of heaven, while you have her, do something about her teeth.  It’s like she has a vagina dentata for a mouth.

Meanwhile, kids, and those who should not act like kids but do: STOP THE MORAL PANICS. You’re suffering from semantic confusion.

Treating people as objects, taking their property away, silencing them, banning them from the public sphere, making it impossible for people who dissent to earn a living, and destroying books you disagree with?  THAT’s being literally Hitler. (Yes, it’s also a few of your favorite things.  Look in that mirror and keep looking.)

Making people sleep in dormitories because they tried to waltz through your border to collect what the left told them is their due (i.e. to rob you blind)?  That’s not literally Hitler.

Not only weren’t the Jews breaking into Nazi Germany for the benefits, but most them would have been ecstatic to be allowed to go away.

Your bizarre obsession with this comparison is not only obvious semantic and historical confusion, it’s a screaming case of trivializing evil and borders on Holocaust denial.

No wonder, having lost the plot you now think Trump is just like Hitler because he makes speeches.  Did you ever hear Obama and his cadences?  Never mind.

Look, you drink water, Hitler drank water. You’re literally Hitler. And it’s twice as bad if you drink water while vegetarian. Just like Hitler.

Evil is evil. It’s not superficial resemblances. It’s thinking you can — and SHOULD — control people and history and you think that you have a right — nay a DUTY — to do so, because you know better than any given individual what’s better for him/her.  True evil is stopping at nothing in enforcing your will and forgetting other people are people too, and should have free will.

Look in that mirror. LOOK. It is not dormitories that make camps.

And we’re not letting you go all the way to camps. Because we’re not. Because some of us have sworn to devote our lives to fighting evil totalitarianism.

We know what it is. We know the stench of it.

We will not be confused.

And you shall not pass.

I was going to write a post 4? 5? hours ago.  Instead, as always when I’m tired, the ADD is driving. So I’ve done a million things, but mostly hung out with friends…

One of them posted this (at himself, not me) early this morning:

It’s kind of true…  Add in that I’m tired though not sleepy, which is a weird state, and that I found out this morning —

Oh, yeah, let me back track: I got home to a strong smell of… well, poop.  I thought “well, it’s night time, the house is closed, must be the boxes.

But the boxes were pretty much clean, and nothing explained that smell.  Until I got a look at Havey-cat’s behind.  You see, he’s a Turkish Angora (no, we didn’t pay for him. We found him in a mini-golf course. So he’s probably not pure, but he even SOUNDS like them.) So, if you don’t shave his behind regularly, at some point he’s incapable of doing it himself.  Also, honestly, he only half tries. LEAST hygienic cat EVER.

We’ve been busy and not taken him in for a full shave.  So…  We shaved somewhat (we need to take him to the vet for a full shave) and then washed his behind (fun for the whole family!)

He was not only a mess, but he’d scooted all over the carpet trying to clean himself. At 10 pm, I was carpet cleaning.  And then I sort of passed out.

This morning, I realized though not as strong, the smell was still there.  And then I realized it was all over the dining room floor.  Fortunately wood, but still…

ANYWAY–

So, Fyrecon was very good, even if the lesson on giving your universe depth, because only three hours, and therefore — I realized — insufficient to create a whole non-earth world, turned into “How to make sure your alternate world isn’t laughable. What you need to take into account.”

I remembered again how much I enjoy teaching.  And how EXHAUSTING it is.  And the weird things I end up teaching.

So, definitely when I do online workshops, it will be no more than week a month (A week’s time. Not necessarily a week. I know some of you would benefit from having them on the weekend.)

AND probably only for a year (because it is exhausting.)

Since this is not a real post, I’m going to leave you to discuss what you THINK I can teach.  I think the building parallel worlds would translate well to online (but longer, much longer, as I’d have to give you hints/shepherd you on your own worlds.) And I was thinking a workshop on beginnings and perhaps one on character arcs.

What do you guys think?