According To Hoyt

At this point, it is almost anti-climatic to do a Liberty Con AAR, since it started a week ago today, and I’ve been home for half the week.

I’ll just say that having come home to a power line downed by a tree threw a bit of a spanner in the works, not to mention making crossing our yard verah interesting.

That’s taken care of, and I’m working again, so there is no excuse not to do an AAR.

I’ll start by saying the day we were to leave, my husband woke me up with the words “I think we’ll have to cancel.”

Here among friends, I’ll have to admit that part of me had been looking for an excuse to cancel for at least two weeks. No, not because I didn’t want to go, but because being an introvert and being away from cons for two weeks, going to a “biggish con” seemed almost unbearable. However, when he said that — besides feeling really guilty — I knew we couldn’t cancel. We couldn’t cancel, because there were people who — if not booking on purpose to meet me — had booked with that in mind.

But our air-conditioning had failed, and we couldn’t leave the cats to bake. They can’t open a window, after all. Lack of opposable thumbs. We considered boarding them, but that meant leaving Dan’s piano exposed to warping temperatures. Um…..

After much futzing around, we got it going halfway through the day, which meant getting to the con barely in time for my first panel, at 1 pm on Saturday.

Still not sure our fix would hold, we left a local friend in charge of checking (I owe him so many low-carb cookies) and took off.

The drive was unexceptionable, except for being through some very very beautiful country I’d never crossed and we got there as my panel was starting. Dan dropped me up front, and I ran in, while son went to the registration table to get my tag and little name thing for the table. He was also on that panel, which somehow got mucked between my concept and the panel person, so it wasn’t “Barbarella, teaching my mom to write comics in the 21st century” but just “Barbarella”. Also my need for a projector somehow got lost, probably my fault, as I was dealing with floor installers most of the last few months, and a little more brainless than usual. So, Marshall wasn’t on the list, but he was supposed to be.

We made do without the projector, but here I must break for proud mommy thing: Marshall who is the most introverted of the family, did wonderfully. (I have started introducing him to being in public/public personas, because at long last, very reluctantly, he’s started admitting he writes. He has always written. He wrote a play that followed the hero’s journey at THREE (It was a chameleon in search of a magic leaf. Don’t ask) and enacted it with puppets, but he’s so contrarian he didn’t want to join the family business. However, he still wrote. Now he’s writing a novel with me, and maybe I can get him to publish his sf mysteries too.) Anyway, I had doubts about how he would do at public appearances, but he was very good.

I was surprised the room was full that early, and more surprised by scattered clapping as I came skidding in at a half-run. I met a bunch of you there, particularly Herb and Ian.

Anyway, this was Friday and Dan and I realized we were busy the rest of the con, and if we wanted to go to the Acropolis — the best Greek restaurant anywhere we’ve been — it was our only chance. So we went out for a quiet dinner. As it turned out, the waiter was a fan, and had mistaken the date of the con, which is why he wasn’t there.

Afterwards we came to the memorial late (Seriously, guys, Chattanooga has GROWN and the traffic is horrendous.)

There was a miscalculation there. I didn’t realize for a bunch of introverts talking about feelings is painful. So we put the names of the honored dead up, and then chitchated about noting. I think we mortally offended people looking in.

If I had a suggestion, it would be that during opening or closing ceremonies, the names of the honored dead that year (people related to the con or people in our community) be read and a minute of silence observed. That would make it more proper, and easier on us who have trouble with feelings in general.

Anyway, after that I don’t remember the order of panels super-well. I remember the panel for the Give me Liberty Anthology, because it was next door to an Indian wedding. The music was so loud we could barely ear ourselves THINKING much less talking.

Any implication that the author was dancing through that panel is calumny. She’s not that type of writer! Any implication she involved Chris Kennedy in her malfeasance is even viler calumny. He’s not that kind of editor! (To be fair, he’d been there for 3 panels straight and was going a little nuts at the music.) Any further implication that Larry Correia was also dancing is further calumny. He’s not that type of mega bestseller! (He came up with the best theory, which is that the music was revenge on Larry and myself, because of what our ancestors did to Goa. I’ll buy it.)

Anyway, none of that happened, though if it had happened it would be tons of fun.

There were …. other panels. And there was a Hoyt reading which….

So I said I was proud of my kid, right? Yeah. Except this is the one that’s exactly like me, from the top of his little horns, to the bottom of his little hoofkins, which he don’t have.

In describing the book we’re writing together, he gave the impression…. Well, Herb asked if it was for adults only. I vehemently denied it, waving my hands and saying it’s not that type of book, I’m not that type of writer. To which my son OF COURSE responded by saying “So, we’ll start with the stripper scene.” There is no stripper scene. I’m not that kind of writer!

And so it went, with him reading in a weird British accent I had trouble understanding. In his defense, he trained himself out of a speech impediment at 11, by learning to speak in a posh British accent. He defaults to it when nervous.

Anyway, I read from Bowl of Red, which is ALSO NOT THAT KIND OF BOOK. And I’m not that kind of writer.

Then we closed with a comics panel where — heaven helps us — I might have been the only one doing the traditional thing in comics. I posted my thoughts on that panel here: How many miles to Babylon?

Anyway, Dan cut out his last panel on editing, because we had to leave. The guys wanted to stay till Monday, but I had a bad feeling we needed to get back home. I was right as we had downed power line shortly after getting back. And see our strong objections to baking cats.

Hopefully next year — supposing everything else holds. Yeah, I know — we’ll be able to stay a day before and a day after, because the recovery was monstrous, particularly from introvert-shock after that many people for three days.

Anyway, the weird thing about this con was how little time I had with friends. I was happy to see the Correias again and to meet Hinkley, who is older son’s secret sister (Seriously, they look more like siblings than they do like their real siblings. Curiously older son was also first published at thirteen. Something in the design, maybe?) I was both surprised and happy to see Kevin J. Anderson who used to live just down the road from us, and who, now with shaved head, looks rakish and piratical. Also glad to see all my LC friends, including Uncle Lar, who didn’t recognize me.

Oleg Volk took pictures of me, and there will be a new profile pic, by and by. (It was sudden and unexpected, so no make up and I look a bit iffy, but hey.)

And now I’m going to figure out why the dryer is trying to break itself on the sheets, and do some quick house cleaning (like two hours) before I sit down to finish the Malta Story, because I don’t want Law Dog to kill me.

Oh, yeah, I almost forgot the most fun part of the con: I assaulted Law Dog TWICE, by hugging him. TBF the second time I didn’t see him, until he stood in front of me and demanded to be assaulted. But let it not be said I let a redhead go unassaulted. As grandma would say “I’m married and old, but not dead or blind.” Or to put it another way: I’m not that kind of writer.

Darkship Thieves was supposed to go up for pre-order this weekend, but between my editor and I we had some version control issues, so it’s adjourned till next week.

And I think that’s it. Till tomorrow.

Humans have ideas of what the future holds that were either formed very young, or formed young and through an accretion of stories, news, entertainment.

This can be either a personal future — or why I’m going slightly insane at turning 60 this year, because that’s grandma age. Also because, honestly, I have no clue where the last ten years went. And it wasn’t a matter of having fun — where we have an idea what people are like at various ages.

Or it can be societal.

I keep getting the feeling that part of what’s bizarre and insane about the last two years is that I fee like the people who were propagandized that the future was overpopulated and very poor due to exhaustion of natural resources are trying to create that future, even though neither of the conditions are true, because that’s the future in their heads, the future they’ve prepared for all along.

Yes, sure, there are other things at work. There is the Marxist cult, an inculcated hatred of humans, the desire to be special and elite in a sea of peasants who are forced to live in medieval conditions, and the general spite and malice of not particularly bright people who climbed the greased pole by ideology and, oh, yeah, spite and malice.

But over it all there ‘s that story at the back of their heads, the story they must make come through, because its what the future is.

We all have a story at the back of our heads of what the future will be like. Thank the Lord for Heinlein, it is not all fatalistic and destructive, but even Heinlein–

Let us face it, anyone from the age of eighty and younger grew up with the idea of infallible, increasingly centralized governments that could order anything and everything for good and ill.

The fact that those of us who are on the right have been awake since the fall of communism, and know the horrors it perpetrates, doesn’t mean we don’t believe in “infallible government.”

Partially, mind you, because our history of communist and totalitarian regimes is flawed and incorporates an incredible amount of the communists’ own propaganda. Sometimes via dissidents, telling us what they planned for us. And what they planned for us accords with things you can interpret as happening, kind of, sort of, if you squint.

But the fact is that centralized governments are always, forever, and everywhere inefficient. If they appear to have had a plan work perfectly, it is only because they are projecting what worked, and hiding what did. FDR wasn’t a heck of a lot more successful than Obama, it was the projection of his success via the media that caused people to fall in line over time. And World War II and war powers/measures didn’t help. (which is why our idiots long for a good war, and war powers.)

But now the wall of the media is fractured. And we can see what goes on behind the scenes.

So when you say things like that they’re going to ban cash….

Cooeee. They and what super power? Cash reappears/appears even when the cash being used becomes valueless. Mostly because people need to trade to eat. And it’s really hard to carry a cow in your pocket.

In Portugal, for a while, money was as good as valueless (well before my birth. Might have been before my dad’s. I’m not sure.) which is why there’s still a tradition of giving gold pound coins to kids at their birth and to newly weds at their weddings.

Because if they ban cash, it just means we use other cash. Old cash, foreign cash, precious metal coins. Precious metals by weight.

How are they going to ban cash?

Throughout the breadth and depth of the US, they’re gong to police every transaction, search everyone’s pockets? How?

And here’s the thing, just like the black market (and our subsidies) kept the USSR from starving, they can’t ban cash; they can’t “cancel” every deplorable; they can’t do any of that without they, themselves starving.

In fact, just with their war on oil, attempting to make “green energy” materialize out of their dreams, is going to hurt them badly. Sure, it will hurt us too. but we’re bracing for it, they’re not. Also, they’re more vulnerable than they thing.

What it’s not going to do is make the science for perfect, eternal renewable energy appear out of thin air.

The enemy gets a vote. It doesn’t get a veto. They don’t have magical powers. There is nothing that makes their plans come true perfectly, out of their dreams.

That they believe it, it’s excusable. They’ve grown up with the idea the more centralized the government, the more powerful.

We grew up with the same, of course, but we’re not as trusting, are we? We’ve seen behind the lies and the curtain.

And we’re their enemies. And we get a vote.

So does reality, which is also their enemy.

Stop assuming that whatever they want to do will work flawlessly. I’m going to bet you money it’s not even working in China. It’s just that we’re very far away and most of what we get is filtered through what the regime lets out. And at that, their culture has been molded over centuries to be way more compliant than ours.

Do not give magical powers to the enemy. The most flawless of their plans will still be shaky and unevenly implemented.

And the more elaborate, and far-reaching the plan the more flawed the implementation.

Be not afraid. Keep looking for the flaws.

They’re the most profitable points to push and bring the entire “flawless” lie down.

Sometimes we need mental health days. In my case, right because I have no mind yet, after peopling intensively for three days.

But …. But it got me thinking.

We all need respite, and ways to decompress.

Sometimes things are so big and looming so dark, and it’s impossible to see past them, but we still need a place to go mentally.

Mostly, to no one’s surprise, I like to day dream.

If things are worrisome, say in the money way, yeah, sometimes I buy a lottery ticket. this is not so I can win and solve my problems — well, the most I’ve ever won was $600, okay? — but so I have the right to dream about all the things I’ll do with the money. If I buy it early and delay checking the numbers, that can be a whole week of daydreams and feeling secretly rich.

However of course there are other worries, and money doesn’t solve everything, because often money is not the problem. Even a lot of money can’t buy us a restoration of the Republic. (Though I cheer Elon Musk on in his attempt.)

So what do you do then? Well…. I read. And write.

Going into a reality where the good guys win, where freedom is restored and where the future is better than the past is a good way to escape and restore your balance.

…. which I guess is my way of announcing I’m working on the reissue of Darkship Thieves, and there will be a hardcover edition, yes.

I’m also still recovering from peopling.

So, there will be an AAR on Liberty Con tomorrow. And for today, I’m going to work on publishing and editing, and maybe finally finish the Malta story.

The state of the writer is one of confusion. Other than that, I’m okay. Mostly.

We had actually planned to get up at nine and go off to go to a museum. At nine thirty we unpeeled an eyelid and went, uh…. no.

I finally had coffee about an hour ago, and am lurching into furniture.

At the … instigation/bullying of various of you and my family (My very own, personal family. How unkind.) I am finally going to do an annual fundraiser for the blog.

To put this in perspective, it is something that the late Jerry Pournelle told me to do. He said I should be making enough off the blog to live, given the hits and audience enthusiasm. Needless to say, though the button is there, I’m not.

Now, I feel a little embarrassed doing a fundraiser since I did the go fund me in November and you all came through like heroes, which saved my financial skin. (Without it, we’d have gone under, and I’m incredibly grateful.)

However, after discussion it was decided the best time for a fundraiser around here is the first two weeks of July. I.e. around the 4th of July, give or take.

I’m not absolutely sure how to do this. This won’t be a “save me, I’m in distress.” This is “I spend hours a day on this blog and try to post more or less every day, and if you fund it, I’ll be able to do some stuff, like maybe hire a copyeditor and maybe hire people to do special/interesting posts now and then.” It will also, because the blog flies under the same company/banner, allow us to hire people to edit anthologies, etc.

I was thinking of shooting for 50k, mostly because that’s what Jerry suggested way back. I think it’s ridiculously high, but we’ll see?

Now, I have no clue what service to use to keep track of/collect the donations. NOT gofundme. So I’m going to throw that to the hive mind.

And then I have no clue what to use for prizes. The one thing I’ve shown absolutely is that I have trouble getting to the post office. (It’s an hour away, and it’s a pain in the behind. So I keep putting it off for MONTHS.)

Things in play: pictures/covers of books (my books, not those through Baen, because copyright) as screen savers and maybe a calendar. A short collection of essays or short stories. For higher prizes (and it would need to be higher) maybe t-shirts (I’ll have to come up with them and put them on zazzle. Yes, yes, #teamheadsonpikes.)

So, ideas for those, that I don’t have to mail directly (but can send from amazon or zazzle) or bookfunnel, are also welcome.

Anyway… If you help me (and tell me if I’m completely crazy to even do this) I’ll be very grateful.

Right now, I’m going to go to lunch with a friend who missed the con.

Liberty Con NEVER ENDS.

And then I’m probably going to crawl under the bed and sleep. Though, who knows? Son might wake up and want to go to the museum, in which case, he might drag us along.

Stay sane, stay well, and remember the writer is in a state of confusion.

Book promo

If you wish to send us books for next week’s promo, please email to bookpimping at outlook dot com. If you feel a need to re-promo the same book do so no more than once every six months (unless you’re me or my relative. Deal.) One book per author per week. Amazon links only. Oh, yeah, by clicking through and buying (anything, actually) through one of the links below, you will at no cost to you be giving a portion of your purchase to support ATH through our associates number. A COMMISSION IS EARNED FROM EACH PURCHASE. That helps defray my time cost of about 2 hours a day on the blog, time probably better spent on fiction.

*Note that I haven’t read most of these books (my reading is eclectic and “craving” led, and apply the usual cautions to buying. – SAH*

FROM SARAH A. HOYT, THE END OF THIS SERIES: Barbarella #10

This is it – the big battle you’ve been waiting for! Barbarella and the Brotherhood have launched a covert strike on Quryx, home of the Lady. Of course, they’re walking into a trap, and brute force is no match for a crazed tyrant with an army of thousands! But where strategy fails, the truth behind the Lady’s actions may prevail…though at what cost? After all, what is an ending but a new beginning? Sci-fi meets the human condition on a battlefield like no other in this explosive final chapter!

FROM DAVE FREER: Boy’s Surface

She thought she just needed the latest and best of automated houses to be happy.
She’s about to find out that a technology that can give you everything you want, can take away everything you need.
An amusing short story of technological over-reach.
THIS WORK IS A SHORT STORY.

FROM W. L. EMERY: Magic Employed

He’s back! The itinerant wizard with the sesquipedalian vocabulary is back in another anthology of short stories. Accompanied by his traveling companion Mirrabelle, Otheldo encounters mermaids, a violent demon from another dimension, and an evil wizard who has enslaved an entire tribe of fiendishly powerful ape-men. The good news is that he’s employed.

FROM T. A. HUNTER: The Master Code

A near-future murder-mystery-drama morphs over 10 days into an action-packed sci-fi conspiracy-thriller ending with a bang as a Southern rural river community is suddenly overwhelmed by a series of accidents and deaths. Are all these events somehow tied to a dam break, the murder of an old riverman, and a fish? Can Sheriff Coleman of Charles County solve this puzzling case with the reluctant help of Jason Dickson, an autistic convicted computer hacker who is now an engineering student? What discovery is so great they risk their lives, and everyone they love, to reveal to the world? Can you decipher the Master Code with Jason too?

FROM JASON FUESTING: Dusk Knight

Guns, mayhem, and magic.

Staff Sergeant Thomas Edwards was intimately familiar with the first two before incoming fire ended his career. A tactical retreat to the family cabin drops him head first into the third when he awakes in the blackened, twilight wasteland that used to be Faerie. Beset by nightmarish survivors of the Nevernever’s apocalypse, Thomas’ explosive finale earns him an option besides death. All he has to do is make a deal with fae.

What’s the worst that could happen?

FROM CLAYTON BARNETT: Cursed Hearts: A Novel of Machine Civilization

Even with San Diego occupied by the Mexican Army, Katarina Sosabowski pursues her MBA at UCSD, and is happy to welcome and put up her visiting step-cousin from Japan, Christopher Dennou, for a night so he can complete his enrollment the following day. But a minor earthquake brings a major surprise: Chris’s younger sister, Maya, murders their mother and escapes Neuroi Institute, the research facility that created them. While Chris and ‘Cat’ grow closer to one another, Maya inexorably crosses an ocean and half a continent to take back her brother, killing anyone who gets in her way.

FROM KAL SPRIGGS: Valor’s Inheritance

Her home world and most of its people have been captured by alien invaders. All too many of the cadets and personnel she served with have been killed in the defense of their planet. The Century Planetary Militia’s starships and fighters thrown away by Admiral Drien to cover his cowardly retreat.

All that is left is a meager inheritance for the survivors: a handful of ships, off-world accounts, and refugees willing to give all they have to save their homeworld. Multiple factions of survivors compete to control those resources. Some, like Jiden’s grandmother, want to build up a force to liberate their planet. Others, like Admiral Drien, want to gain the support of a stronger power and let others do the bleeding to save Century.

Jiden, as before, is in the middle of it all. She will have to manage meager resources while she trains up new recruits to save Century. Because whether they can acquire more resources or not, the Centurions are going to save their people. Jiden knows that in the end: all the wealth and power of Century doesn’t matter; the true inheritance of Century is the willingness to shed blood to save it.

FROM AMANDA S. GREEN: Fire Striker (Tearing the Veil Book 1)

Some say monsters aren’t real. Others say the only monsters are those people who aren’t fully human: the witches and shapeshifters, elves and dwarves, and all the others who one day stepped out of the realm of fairy tales and into “real life”. Morgan Walsh knows the truth. Monsters come in all shapes and sizes, and some of the worst are human.

She didn’t start out life as Morgan Walsh. Once upon a time, her name was Adriana Grace Hensen. Everything, including her name, changed the day she turned thirteen. That day she learned several lessons she’d never forget. The first was that monsters were real. The second was that her parents were two of the worst “monsters” alive. The third was that those you trust the most can and will turn on you.

Morgan’s parents betrayed her because she wasn’t “human”. Now she’s back with one goal in mind: vengeance.

Never, ever conspire against a Fire Elemental, especially one with other “talents” as well. When you do, you’d best be prepared to get burned.

FROM BLAKE SMITH: Test of Valor

Alain de Kerauille wants to be a knight more than anything in the world, to win as many jousting tournaments as he can, become wealthy and famous, and gain the hand of the fair lady Emma. As a squire in a noble household, he’s well on his way to success, and when he’s chosen to joust in a celebratory tournament, all of his dreams seem within his grasp. Until his rivalry with a fellow squire reaches the boiling point, threatening to destroy everything Alain has worked for and send his future crashing down around him.

Vignettes by Luke, Mary Catelli and ‘Nother Mike.

So what’s a vignette? You might know them as flash fiction, or even just sketches. We will provide a prompt each Sunday that you can use directly (including it in your work) or just as an inspiration. You, in turn, will write about 50 words (yes, we are going for short shorts! Not even a Drabble 100 words, just half that!). Then post it! For an additional challenge, you can aim to make it exactly 50 words, if you like.

We recommend that if you have an original vignette, you post that as a new reply. If you are commenting on someone’s vignette, then post that as a reply to the vignette. Comments — this is writing practice, so comments should be aimed at helping someone be a better writer, not at crushing them. And since these are likely to be drafts, don’t jump up and down too hard on typos and grammar.

If you have questions, feel free to ask.

Your writing prompt this week is: SPOTTED

Hi. I’m alive and well.

Yesterday was crazy-busy, but I got to meet some of you in the flesh, so that’s cool

Right now, I’m trying to do the promo post, but Amazon keeps glitching, so I might have to do it tomorrow.

Anyway, don’t worry about me. I’ve got a Minotaur guard of honor, and I got to harass LawDog — TWICE! — (I need a button with that last) so, I’m fine.
If I don’t get the promo post up, I’ll do it tomorrow.

So, yeah, I do realize I’ve been running a little hot lately, and am more likely to get false positives for trolls and react to that sense than before. Part of that is the times we live in. Being in the stupidest timeline, and two years of lockdowns haven’t helped anyone’s temper. Part of it is specific-to-me circumstances, like us trying to get house unpacked and set up. A situation that tries my patience daily, because well…. Look, I do realize I need to cut back on the sheer amount of possessions. Partly because it’s not like I’m hoarding gold and diamonds, okay? I have an unhealthy number of worn sheets and towels with holes, which I’ve trouble getting rid of because “they might come in handy.”

It’s not helped by the current situation, where the back of my mind tells me “but will that be available again?” when I try to get rid of something.

Anyway I’ve got to deal with that to de-stress, and until then I’ll be a little hot on the jump. Indulge me. OTOH I thought what might trigger my troll alarms, just so you know. I’m not saying “never do this” because I’m not going to unduly restrict your speech here. (Though coming in swearing at me and other commenters, when a total unknown, will still get you banned.) Anyway, here “what makes Sarah smell troll and why.”

So, here is what I will call “a taxonomy of trolls.”

THE INADVERTENT TROLL: I realize I can’t demand that you have read the last week of posts or much less all the comments, but seriously–

Coming up with a complete doom scenario particularly one debunked over and over in posts will get the back of my head screaming “troll.”

Coming into an old post and being weirdly aggressive as to why it’s not true and we’re all doooooomed. Gets my head screaming “troll.”

Now this can be inadvertent, and even well-intentioned, or someone in the depths of the black dog and reaching for anything, but seriously? It feels wrong, particularly if you’re new and I don’t know you.
This brings us to:

THE DOOM TROLL- comes in screaming doom doom doom, we’re all doomed. Vomits wall of text. Will take no argument, or leaves a drive-by.

As I said, this might be inadvertent. It might be accidental as I said, and heaven knows, we’re all functioning weirdly due to the lockdowns and stupid.

So, if you’re inclined to a doom troll what I have to ask is what I used to ask my sons: what are you expecting to accomplish?

Look, yeah, maybe everything will be doom and gloom and commie-land forever. (If you reality-test, you’ll realize how unlikely this is, both because forever is a very long time, and because frankly commies can’t keep themselves going. And if we hadn’t helped the USSR– Anyway–) BUT at best what going black-pill right now will achieve is throwing the game when not only we could win, but we have reality on our side.

Yeah, I know, people try to doom so they don’t feel “exposed” and to spare themselves pain, but again, the real world effect on others is terrible.

I also have reason to believe — though I can’t be absolutely sure, of course — that some of the doom trolls are paid/subsidized by the left/foreign interests. Because you know if Americans give up or break up, they win.

So, kindly try to limit the amounts of doom. Yes, I do get some of you are very, very depressed and convinced of doom. I get that. Notice I haven’t banned the regulars who feel like that.

BUT if you’re a newby and relentlessly doomy, you might be mistaken for a troll. Heck, you might even be one.

THE ACTUALLY TROLL – comes in and “corrects” a minor point in the post.

Note that I’m not infallible, and these are often written early morning or late night, with me in a state of semi-somnolence. I do make mistakes. And my commenters correct me often, on historical figures, language, or whatever.

However there is a level of “You mention forks in the fifteenth century, and actually in the fifteenth century, the hand whittled forks of Bavaria–” that is a troll, because it diverts discussion to totally unrelated/unproductive point.

It can be particularly annoying if the commenter is wrong or its debatable.

It climbs to troll if it’s a drive by, and an attempt to discredit the whole post on an incidental point.

The grammar/typo trolls fall into this. Notice I don’t include those of you who have way too much fun with my typos, but those that come in saying something like “For a professional writer, you have a lot of typos, so I can’t believe–“

THE NOTICE ME SEMPAI TROLL- These are bizarre, and the one I’m thinking of was the guy who was extremely annoying so I put him on “approve me before I show” watch. He then, without posting here, went around every right-side blog calling himself things like “SarahHoythatesme” for years. I had no clue who he was, and frankly had no idea why he was doing this. Then he left comments here going on about how he was going to sue me or hit me for “blocking” his comments and “not answering me.”

I have no clue how or why he expected me to answer him on blogs where I never comment and rarely read comments, but whatevs.

This is the “Notice me sempai” troll, and that guy was not the only one. There are a few that have got themselves hard-banned by doing things like bringing imaginary arguments they had with me on other blogs or to other blogs (imaginary, because they referred to me, but I wasn’t there/didn’t answer/had no time for that stuff.)

I have absolutely no clue why I’m so important to them, but hey — diddle diddle! — I apparently am. For those that aren’t actually paid, they need to take their meds and get a life. (PAID? Well, day before yesterday my hotmail was under HARD brute-force attack, trying to break into it. No, they didn’t manage. But like internet shenanigans in CO, there’s indications that I’m not entirely paranoid since someone is trying to get me. Heaven knows why. I’m just a chick with a relatively small blog. Shrug.)

THE INCOHERENT INSULT TROLL – You might be Clamps/Chlamydia. Though frankly, a lot of lefties fall under this. With rare exceptions, this just gets you banned, hard, straight off the gate.

I think that’s pretty much it for trolls. The “notice me sempai” ones are, without exception, the weirdest ones, and I have no idea what they think they’re doing, but then I don’t claim to understand any trolls.

That’s it for today. Stay frosty.

*I will state my issue with this post upfront: The Writer In Black is right. In fact, he’s covered in reason, (as grandma would say.) I just don’t know that the Bidentia Junta is going to allow us to do it gradually or bring everything down with a roaring crash and make things very precarious indeed – SAH*

The Arrow Is Plugging The Wound by the Writer in Black

In other places I’ve made it pretty clear that I lean sharply libertarian and that the role of government should be sharply limited. “To preserve these rights, governments are instituted among men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed.”  That’s it.  Going beyond what’s necessary to “secure these rights” is to go beyond “just powers.”

As I point out in earlier blog posts, a certain level of government actually helps to secure the basic rights of Life, Liberty, and Pursuit of Happiness (Part 1, Part 2, Part 3)

Obviously, we are far, far beyond that point.  To get there we need to cut government back, way back.

Here’s where I part company with many Libertarians.  They want to do it in one fell swoop.  Every part of government that is not part of the minimum necessary “to secure these rights” (which some consider to be “all of it”) must go.  Now.

That, however, may not be a good idea.  Oh, the end goal of getting rid of most of what government does may be a laudable one but the question is how.

Consider this analogy.  A man has been shot with a number of arrows and is lying there like a meat pincushion.  The wounds, if properly treated, are such that he can survive and heal.  If left as is he’ll bleed to death.

Some folk have the instinct to jerk out all the arrows since they’re what caused his wounding.

Very foolish that.  Those arrows are also plugging the holes so he doesn’t quickly bleed out.

This is where we are with government.  It’s bleeding free society to death, slow or fast depending on your perspective but it’s also “plugging the holes”.

Consider what President Dwight Eisenhower said about Social Security and other programs: “Should any political party attempt to abolish social security unemployment insurance and eliminate labor laws and farm programs you would not hear of that party again in our political history. There is a tiny splinter group of course that believes you can do these things. Among them are a few other Texas oil millionaires and an occasional politician or business man from other areas. Their number is negligible and they are stupid.”

Eisenhower was not endorsing Social Security and those other programs.  No, he was pointing out the reality that so many people had grown dependent on them that people would rise in such outrage that the “offending” party would be voted out of every office they hold, from President all the way down to dog catcher, and never be heard from again. [Ed. Note also what I had to say in Yesterday’s post, The Dismal Science.]

And the plain fact is that many more people are dependent on many more government programs than ever before.  Cut the program and people will suffer, in the short term at least.  Maybe, probably, they would if given time adjust to the new situation and the economic growth that comes from the increased freedom and less tying up of the economy caused by the government passing money back and forth from hand to hand with no new products and services to show for it would improve their lot.  But there’s the problem “given time”.  Most people will only see their immediate hardship.  As the line says from the movie Annie (the 1982 version; I haven’t seen the 2014 version and don’t intend to) “People don’t eat in the long run.”

There’s another factor as well. Even if you remove the arrows and stop the bleeding, infection brought in by the arrows through the open wounds they created can still kill the body.

What is the infection in this metaphor? Infection is the beliefs and ideas that are only government can solve problems or, perhaps more pernicious, government can solve them best. And so, even if you reduce the size and scope of government (or, miracle of miracles, get rid of it entirely) the moment problems arise (and they will, this being far from a perfect world) people will immediately turn to government to “solve” those problems. And how do you stop them, short of force, which would make you a government?

It’s a strange infection that causes people to stab themselves with the very arrows you just pulled out of them, but, well, it’s not a perfect metaphor.

The other problem is that the arrows are barbed. The organs of government, in the end, are made up of people and they are going to “softly and silently vanish away” because you are no boojum. They’re going to resist. Remember the Iron Law of Bureaucracy? The people in charge of most of the bureaucracies are “type 2” bureaucrats, those dedicated not to the goals for which the bureaucracy was formed, but to the organization itself. They aren’t going to quietly see it go down, and they’re perfectly willing to do untold damage in their fight for institutional survival.

We saw exactly that under Trump. The irony was that people claimed Trump was paranoid for claiming that the “Deep State” was working against him to undermine his Presidency (starting with putting surveillance on his campaign). And time and again during various hearings we saw witnesses describing how they had worked against Trump to undermine his Presidency, starting with surveillance on his campaign.

Thus, while reducing the size of government is a good thing–indeed, it’s something that must happen if we’re to remain anything resembling a free and prosperous country–great care must be taken in how its done.  It needs to be done gradually–we didn’t get where we are in an instant and we won’t get back in one either.  We must be prepared to deal with the “bleeding” that will come from removing each “arrow”, with the infection that it’s let into the system, and with the hidden barbs it contains, lest instead of a healthy, prosperous nation we end up with an exsanguinated corpse.

Recognizing this, of course, makes me a horrible “statist” who doesn’t care about freedom.  Or so I’ve been told.

The Writer In Black normally blogs at: The Writer In Black.

Also look for his books on Amazon under David L. Burkhead.

It’s not on you to save the world. It’s not on you to save everyone.

Or as my husband so eloquently puts it “You can’t hug every cat.” (It’s from a video. It’s also a lesson from our years as fosters. You can’t foster every cat.)

Some of us — and I think we’re probably overrepresented on this blog — realized there was evil in the world and ten seconds later decided it was somehow our fault and it was on us to save the world/mend all pains/heal all wounds.

This cannot be done. Not by any individual, and maybe not even by a lot of us. It’s impossible, and also hubristic.

That evil exists in the world is the result of humans having imperfections — or if you prefer, the Fall — and of the fact we each have free will. You can’t stop pain in other humans, except by making them stop existing. (Which is where every scheme for “heaven on Earth” leads us.

And that’s the grossest evil of all.

To the extent I’m doing better/less crazy than I was in 2020 it’s because I realized/internalized it’s not on me. Living in times of extreme madness doesn’t mean I’m responsible for stopping it/making people see sanity.

I can’t actually “change the world.” The world is big, and I’m only one person.

All I can do is all I can do. I can keep the lamp lit, so others see it. I can keep people from thinking they’re so completely alone.

I can work harder, or more efficiently, make more money, and help support/give work and pay members of our community who are in danger of going under right now. (And so many people are.)

I know that communism CAN’T work here, and I mean it can’t stay on for any given time. Not because we’re special, but because we are those that have enabled communists around the world by feeding them. No one is big enough to feed us. And it’s going to get bad, even here, which means the rest of the world is going to get into outright death and famine.

I can’t do much about that. I know the lights are going to go out for a time. I pray the time is short, but making sure it is so is not on me. I can help as much as I can by exhorting/helping/pushing, but I’m not the ruler of the world. And Americans don’t really have rulers, even if we have idiots who want to rule us.

It’s not on me.

All I can do is all I can do, and I’ll continue doing it. And when the black dog comes around, I’ll just work harder.

If you do likewise, maybe the landing will be soft, the darkness short.

All we can do is all we can do.

And hope and pray the rest goes well.

Be not afraid. In the end, we win, they lose.

In the meantime, just keep swimming.

Having learned an old language with many accretions, first, I knew the world puerile before I learned Latin and found that it came from puer — boy in Latin.

Once I knew that, though, it made sense. Puerile behavior is that of a group of boys, by which we should not picture the sober school boys, with much on their minds and a career potentially ahead of them, but a pack of village boys, illiterate and bored because even though they have to help with chores, there is nothing to occupy their minds.

So they run in a pack and are susceptible to impulse and sudden whim, which means they can as well save an animal from a ditch as stone to death a dog, but usually the later.

I don’t suppose most of you have had experience with that, because most of you didn’t grow up in real rural society, where the boys of the underclass were just allowed to run wild. The closest comparison might be to youts in the urban cores, but even there it is different, because they are more likely to be occupied with drug trafficking or selling at an early age.

Puerile is not just unlawful or wanton, it’s also…. futile. Childlike in the sense a bored child will do whatever comes to mind, even when it’s stupid, meaningless or counterproductive.

And it is the best description for the behavior of those who fancy themselves our superiors.

I suppose they have the acquisition of money and power as their goal, but the thing is that after a certain point money is just markers of success, and again, at a certain point the markers are meaningless.

These people have nothing to do. They have nothing to strive for.

Somehow, being utterly devoted to themselves, they are not connected to anything else, even their children and families. They don’t live FOR anything. They just live. There is no purpose to it.

Like bored village boys, they run in packs and do the craziest things because they’re bored. Like “spirit cooking” which no adult human being would consider for a moment on any level of seriousness.

This is reflected in the stories they write, which are boringly predictable and nihilistic. You start a story, and start following someone with interest and then of course, the nice mother must be adulterous or a murderer. The businessman is corrupt, etc. etc.

Because it’s easier to pull the cord on something, and make people feel emotion when you destroy something than when you build a more subtle end.

This was particularly effective when that turn off was a surprise, because no one did that. But that was a good 100 years ago. At this point, we expect the disillusionment and the spoiling.

The “Sudden and yet inevitable betrayal.”

So it no longer achieves a punch. It no longer means anything. It’s boring and dreary and gray, and an indication of why most entertainment branches are meaningless.

Like our politics and our politicians, they’ve become puerile. A semiotics that equates stoning a dog to death, or running pulling a stuck vixen out of a ditch.

The terrible primal force of bored boys, which made the “apprentices” in Shakespeare’s day a force of destruction, is now in charge of our cultural institutions and our politics, and most of our agencies.

Which is why we, alas, against our own better judgement, the adults, must build under, build over, build around.

Because that puerile force is evil, and yet meaningless, a nightmare that passes and leaves destruction in its wake.

And we must build.