I know this is going to sound unbelievable, but it turns out that three cities in three days, viewing six to seven houses each, with a bunch of driving every day, and oh yeah, two offers (one rejected one accepted) is EXHAUSTING. Yes, tongue firmly in cheek.
And I’m sorry I’ve been more absent than not from the blog. But–
Well, but the next month things will be funky (if all goes well) as we get this house ready to go up, and things packed to move.
Neverthless, Bowl of Red is on track to go up early next month, (hopefully before closing) and my evenings are right now taken up with editing/fixing/etc the darkship series, so it can start going up one a week.
I have August 15th through 25th penciled in for sleeping, but with my luck that’s when hell breaks lose, right?
(But Sarah, you said June. I know. I also said it would be so small/silent in June we might not notice. But I’m not going to weasel. This sense of what’s coming is an imperfect instrument, and it’s possible I’m completely wrong. I’m still holding on to hope all this resolves without fire and blood. But judging from how people less inclined to think so are acting, I’d say chances are slim. Still, praying never hurt anyone. Pray for peace. Prepare for otherwise, yes, including disruptions and chaos. And always follow Heinlein’s advice: keep your clothes and weapons where you can find them in the dark. The life you save might be your own.)
And now that I’m upright and moving (Well, shambling) I’m going to get my headphones on, audiobook playing, and go clean the house. (It’s okay, I’ve trained myself to think of this as “resting” since it’s normally half of my day off) so serious scraping/sanding/painting can start tomorrow.
I’ll drop by now and then, hopefully to be amused. And will sit down to write at 5 pm or so….
Thank you for putting up with irregular hours and crazy times here at ATH. I’ll try to post regularly through the next month, but some days I’ll fail. Thank you in advance for your patience.
Try to defend the ATH ship from pirates and the pirate-like regulars who will try to burn it or scuttle it because some troll infestation got in.
Be not afraid. We’re going to get through this. All of this. Because we’re the people who get through things. By the time most of us survived childhood, there was nothing they could do to us that held any terror.
YES, THIS IS A LATE WEDNESDAY PROMO POST AND VIGNETTES. IT’S NOT ATH THAT’S GLITCHING. IT’S THE WORLD THAT IS GLITCHING. WHAT? YOU’VE BEEN ASLEEP SINCE MARCH 2020? DO NOT PANIC, THOUGH. HERE AT ACCORDING TO HOYT WE NEVER PANIC. WE MEANT TO SET OUR HAIR ON FIRE. IN THE CALMEST MANNER POSSIBLE. ALSO, SHUT UP. PLEASE REBOOT THE UNIVERSE, ADD CHEESE AND TRY AGAIN.
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. I ALSO WISH TO REMIND OUR READERS THAT IF THEY WANT TO TIP THE BLOGGER WITHOUT SPENDING EXTRA MONEY, CLICKING TO AMAZON THROUGH ONE OF THE BOOK LINKS ON THE RIGHT, WILL GIVE US SOME AMOUNT OF MONEY FOR PURCHASES MADE IN THE NEXT 24HOURS, OR UNTIL YOU CLICK ANOTHER ASSOCIATE’S LINK. PLEASE CONSIDER CLICKING THROUGH ONE OF THOSE LINKS BEFORE SEARCHING FOR THAT SHED, BIG SCREEN TV, GAMING COMPUTER OR CONSERVATORY YOU WISH TO BUY. That helps defray my time cost of about 2 hours a day on the blog, time probably better spent on fiction. ;)*
In this definitive account of the quest to establish a human presence in lifeless outer space, award-winning space historian Robert Zimmerman reveals the great global gamesmanship between Soviet and American political leaders that drove the space efforts of both following the Apollo lunar landings in the 1960s and 1970s.
Beaten to the Moon by their Cold War enemies, the Russians were intent on being first to the planets. They knew that to reach other worlds they needed to learn how to build interplanetary spaceships, and believed that manned space stations held the greatest promise for making that possible. Thus, from the very moment they realized they had lost the race to the Moon, the Soviet government worked feverishly to build a viable space station program — one that would dwarf the American efforts and allow the Russians to claim the vast territories of space as their own.
Like the race between the tortoise and the hare, the ponderously bureaucratic Soviet Union actually managed to overtake the United States in this space station race. Their efforts — sometimes resulting in terrifying near death exploits — not only put them far ahead of NASA, it also served to reshape their own society, helping to change it from a communist dictatorship to a freer and more capitalist society.
At the same time, the American space program at NASA was also evolving, but not for the better. In fact, in many ways the two programs — and nations — were slowly but inexorably trading places.
Drawing on his vast store of knowledge about space travel and modern history, as well as hundreds of interviews with cosmonauts, astronauts, and scientists, Zimmerman has superbly captured the exciting story of space travel in the last half of the twentieth century. “Leaving Earth” tells that story, and is required reading for space and history enthusiasts alike who wish to understand the context of the space exploration renaissance taking place now, in the twenty-first century.
After retiring from outlawing, Jedidiah Huckleberry Smith just wanted to be left alone in Wyoming with his guns and regrets.
But then he discovered an entrance to a lost world, a place full of grand adventure, as well as spectacular dangers from both prehistoric dinosaurs and a race of savage apes intent on conquest.
Now, a new fort has been established on the other side, and a strange civilization of humans and dinosaurs have been located. The people are descendants from another time, long trapped in prehistory, and with them a fragile alliance is created.
But will it be enough as Jed faces vengeance from enemies both new and old?
Will his savagery and cunning keep him and his love alive?
Or will they die, on a mountain of fired brass, amidst the guttural bellows of barbaric apes and roars of monstrous dinosaurs?
Jed doesn’t know, but he’s always willing to shoot first and figure out the rest afterwards.
When his company demands either a move to Mars or the loss of his job, perpetual plaintiff Lewis Ostrow finds he can’t even get a ticket to the world without lawyers.
Aoife has always known her family was cursed to ward the gates between the worlds. As curses go, hiking up in the mountains and doing a ritual four times a year to keep the gates closed wasn’t a bad one… especially when she wanted to get away from the reminders of Garrett walking out on her and never coming back.
But things are worse than they seem; Garrett’s disappearance was the result of a curse from forces allying to unseal the gates, and trying to use his bear-form as a pawn to kill her. Even after Aoife breaks the geas on him, there are still far too many curses and enemies loose, and something infernal on the other side of the gate that is about to break through…
It’s going to be a race against time to reseal the gate on Solstice night, but don’t bet against a bear and his honey!
Can you say yes, if it’s impossible to say no?The encroaching Solaran empire has gobbled up Svana’s world. Svana fled her planet with the first wave of refugees, swept up with members of a different clan. Space is vast and she finds herself on a space station, alone, waiting hopelessly for her own family to arrive to save her. Thomas is from her world and similarly adrift. He offers to save her, and it’s an offer that Svana can’t refuse, but that doesn’t mean that letting him save her is the right thing to do.
Unless, perhaps, they can somehow save each other.
Robert Zubrin: “Zimmerman’s ground-breaking history provides every future generation the basic framework for establishing new societies on other worlds. We would be wise to heed what he says.”
The human race is about to go to the stars. Big rockets are being built, and nations and private citizens worldwide are planning the first permanent settlements in space.
When we get there, will we know what to do to make those first colonies just and prosperous places for all humans?
Conscious Choice answers this question, by telling a riveting and accurate history of the first century of British settlement in North America. That was when those settlers were building their own new colonies, and had to decide whether to include slaves from Africa.
In New England slavery was vigorously rejected. The Puritans wanted nothing to do with this institution, desiring instead to form a society of free religious families, a society that became the foundation of the United States of American, dedicated to life, liberty, and pursuit of happiness.
In Virginia however slavery was gladly embraced, resulting in a corrupt social order built on power, rule, and oppression.
Why the New England citizens were able to reject slavery, and Virginians were not, is the story that Conscious Choice tells, a story with direct implications for all human societies, whether they are here on Earth or on the farflung planets across the universe.
The kingdom of Aerioch has fallen. Only Kreg and his newfound friends remain. And while the fearsome changeling armies are no more, the task of rebuilding Aerioch remains daunting. They must first escape the land of Chanakra and somehow cross the sea of Elemak.
It is then, when their troubles will really begin.
Despite his rich-kid roots, Tommy Reilly is struggling to make it as a freighter captain. Despite a universe of possibilities, he finds himself running afoul of both pirates and corrupt bureaucrats who seem determined to get in his way at every point. It’s like karma for his bullying past is smacking him in the back of the head.
All of that changes when a figure from his past asks for his help.
Now he’s finding himself at odds with a greedy and overly ambitious business owner who has government backing who happens to be the same man who impounded the very load he needs on his ship. The fact that the load is only the first step in securing information that could bring down the status quo might have something to do with that, however.
Tommy and his crew of misfit rejects have to use skills most of them would rather forget to secure their load, all with eyes watching them everywhere.
Deion staked his future on discarding his past on the way to orbit… but leaving behind love and community isn’t as easy as he thought it’d be.
After 3 years away, he told himself he was just passing through the Dropship Yard, a community cobbled together from old disposable shipping containers, in order to visit friends and family… and retrieve the one man he couldn’t leave behind.
When old secrets and new revelations threaten, Deion must choose between love and duty. Can he have the man he loves and the career he’s sacrificed everything else for?
This M/M Romance Novella is a stand-alone story with a very happy HEA.
(AND YES, IT’S INCREDIBLY AWKWARD SELF-PROMO. GIVE ME A BREAK, IT’S LAUNCH WEEK!)
Lily Gilden has a half-crazed cyborg in her airlock who thinks he’s Nick Rhodes, a fictional 20th Century detective. If she doesn’t report him for destruction, she’s guilty of a capital crime.
But with her husband missing, she’ll use every clue the cyborg holds, and his detective abilities, to solve the crime her husband was investigating when he disappeared.
With the help of a journalist who is more than he seems, Lily will risk everything to plunge into the interstellar underworld and bring the love of her life home!
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.
So this week is special, and I think we’re going to have an ultra special Wednesday Vignettes and Promo.
I’m so sorry, but we’re making a last ditch push to find a home in intended landing place. If we can’t…. If we can’t we’ll start search elsewhere. (Yes, Doug, Matthew, Emily I know. I might come to you sometime next weekend, though looking that far away will be special. This far away is killing me.)
This is why we didn’t have a second post yesterday, as I got sucked down the rabbit hole of “we must go down again” then making a list of prospects.
And so – that’s what’s happening. I thought I might have time to put the promo up before we hit the road, but mistakes were made, I was insufficiently caffeinated, I was never there, and besides I was led astray by evil companions.
And now I seal the laptop in the briefcase, and we hit the road.
See you on the other side. Wish us luck, and pray for us.
Lily Gilden has a half-crazed cyborg in her airlock who thinks he’s Nick Rhodes, a fictional 20th Century detective. If she doesn’t report him for destruction, she’s guilty of a capital crime.
But with her husband missing, she’ll use every clue the cyborg holds, and his detective abilities, to solve the crime her husband was investigating when he disappeared.
With the help of a journalist who is more than he seems, Lily will risk everything to plunge into the interstellar underworld and bring the love of her life home!
On this occluded independence day, I beg you to read the declaration of independence.
I think it’s a mandatory religious observance for my fictional (mostly) USAians on their high holy holiday, but hey, it won’t hurt you either.
Most of all, remember you’re Americans. Remember the words that make men free and make tyrants quake.
It is our duty, our obligation and our very great privilege to make sure that in the next decade, in the next century, in the next millennium, on Earth or in the far flung stars the words carry on, liberty carries on, and tyrants are powerless against them.
Yes, the danger is great. And we must grow to meet it.
Go and light up the skies with fireworks, so we can see our flag by the rockets bursting in air.
Be not afraid.
IN CONGRESS, JULY 4, 1776 The unanimousDeclaration of the thirteen united States of America
hen in the Course of human events it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature’s God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation.
We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness. — That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, — That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness. Prudence, indeed, will dictate that Governments long established should not be changed for light and transient causes; and accordingly all experience hath shewn that mankind are more disposed to suffer, while evils are sufferable than to right themselves by abolishing the forms to which they are accustomed. But when a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same Object evinces a design to reduce them under absolute Despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such Government, and to provide new Guards for their future security. — Such has been the patient sufferance of these Colonies; and such is now the necessity which constrains them to alter their former Systems of Government. The history of the present King of Great Britain is a history of repeated injuries and usurpations, all having in direct object the establishment of an absolute Tyranny over these States. To prove this, let Facts be submitted to a candid world.
He has refused his Assent to Laws, the most wholesome and necessary for the public good.
He has forbidden his Governors to pass Laws of immediate and pressing importance, unless suspended in their operation till his Assent should be obtained; and when so suspended, he has utterly neglected to attend to them.
He has refused to pass other Laws for the accommodation of large districts of people, unless those people would relinquish the right of Representation in the Legislature, a right inestimable to them and formidable to tyrants only.
He has called together legislative bodies at places unusual, uncomfortable, and distant from the depository of their Public Records, for the sole purpose of fatiguing them into compliance with his measures.
He has dissolved Representative Houses repeatedly, for opposing with manly firmness his invasions on the rights of the people.
He has refused for a long time, after such dissolutions, to cause others to be elected, whereby the Legislative Powers, incapable of Annihilation, have returned to the People at large for their exercise; the State remaining in the mean time exposed to all the dangers of invasion from without, and convulsions within.
He has endeavoured to prevent the population of these States; for that purpose obstructing the Laws for Naturalization of Foreigners; refusing to pass others to encourage their migrations hither, and raising the conditions of new Appropriations of Lands.
He has obstructed the Administration of Justice by refusing his Assent to Laws for establishing Judiciary Powers.
He has made Judges dependent on his Will alone for the tenure of their offices, and the amount and payment of their salaries.
He has erected a multitude of New Offices, and sent hither swarms of Officers to harass our people and eat out their substance.
He has kept among us, in times of peace, Standing Armies without the Consent of our legislatures.
He has affected to render the Military independent of and superior to the Civil Power.
He has combined with others to subject us to a jurisdiction foreign to our constitution, and unacknowledged by our laws; giving his Assent to their Acts of pretended Legislation:
For quartering large bodies of armed troops among us:
For protecting them, by a mock Trial from punishment for any Murders which they should commit on the Inhabitants of these States:
For cutting off our Trade with all parts of the world:
For imposing Taxes on us without our Consent:
For depriving us in many cases, of the benefit of Trial by Jury:
For transporting us beyond Seas to be tried for pretended offences:
For abolishing the free System of English Laws in a neighbouring Province, establishing therein an Arbitrary government, and enlarging its Boundaries so as to render it at once an example and fit instrument for introducing the same absolute rule into these Colonies
For taking away our Charters, abolishing our most valuable Laws and altering fundamentally the Forms of our Governments:
For suspending our own Legislatures, and declaring themselves invested with power to legislate for us in all cases whatsoever.
He has abdicated Government here, by declaring us out of his Protection and waging War against us.
He has plundered our seas, ravaged our coasts, burnt our towns, and destroyed the lives of our people.
He is at this time transporting large Armies of foreign Mercenaries to compleat the works of death, desolation, and tyranny, already begun with circumstances of Cruelty & Perfidy scarcely paralleled in the most barbarous ages, and totally unworthy the Head of a civilized nation.
He has constrained our fellow Citizens taken Captive on the high Seas to bear Arms against their Country, to become the executioners of their friends and Brethren, or to fall themselves by their Hands.
He has excited domestic insurrections amongst us, and has endeavoured to bring on the inhabitants of our frontiers, the merciless Indian Savages whose known rule of warfare, is an undistinguished destruction of all ages, sexes and conditions.
In every stage of these Oppressions We have Petitioned for Redress in the most humble terms: Our repeated Petitions have been answered only by repeated injury. A Prince, whose character is thus marked by every act which may define a Tyrant, is unfit to be the ruler of a free people.
Nor have We been wanting in attentions to our British brethren. We have warned them from time to time of attempts by their legislature to extend an unwarrantable jurisdiction over us. We have reminded them of the circumstances of our emigration and settlement here. We have appealed to their native justice and magnanimity, and we have conjured them by the ties of our common kindred to disavow these usurpations, which would inevitably interrupt our connections and correspondence. They too have been deaf to the voice of justice and of consanguinity. We must, therefore, acquiesce in the necessity, which denounces our Separation, and hold them, as we hold the rest of mankind, Enemies in War, in Peace Friends.
We, therefore, the Representatives of the united States of America, in General Congress, Assembled, appealing to the Supreme Judge of the world for the rectitude of our intentions, do, in the Name, and by Authority of the good People of these Colonies, solemnly publish and declare, That these united Colonies are, and of Right ought to be Free and Independent States, that they are Absolved from all Allegiance to the British Crown, and that all political connection between them and the State of Great Britain, is and ought to be totally dissolved; and that as Free and Independent States, they have full Power to levy War, conclude Peace, contract Alliances, establish Commerce, and to do all other Acts and Things which Independent States may of right do. — And for the support of this Declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of Divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes, and our sacred Honor.
I seem to have woken up without a brain, its space replaced with a massive headache.
I really want to work on bowl of red, and will if brain comes back later.
For now, have this, the snippet of what I’m afraid has become Tom and Kyrie’s Wedding, Enter the Dragon.
Bowl of Red
Sarah A. Hoyt
1
Atop one of the highest mountains of the world, there lived a dragon. And the dragon was the most powerful beast in the world, able to listen to and control all of the magical animals everywhere.
And the dragon said to his bride, “Are you sure it will be all right? Closing the diner for a whole hour?”
Kyrie Smith, the dragon’s bride, a panther shifter and co-owner with the dragon – her very beloved and permanently worried fiancé, Tom Ormson – of the George Diner in downtown Goldport smiled while shaking her head, and pulled back a strand of curls that had worked free from Tom’s pony tail. “It will be fine, love. It’s just an hour, after lunch hour.”
Tom still looked worried. Well, Tom always looked somewhat worried, it was part of what was so endearing about him. But Kyrie had worked hard at blocking the time three to four pm, so they could get married in a modicum of privacy. Well, the right kind of privacy. Though every table was occupied these were their friends – a lot of them from the police department – and people who mattered to them, not whatever random might wander in from Fairfax avenue.
Rafiel Thrall, one of Goldport’s finest, and a lion shifter, patted Tom on the shoulder, “Come on. You’ll fine. It’s actually impossible for the diner to go under in the time it takes Anthony to pronounce you man and wife.”
Anthony, server extraordinaire – he’d taught both Kyrie and Tom a lot of the tips and tricks of table service – stood nervously between the salad station and the corner booth, wearing a dark suit. The bridal cake, four layers, created by Laura Miller, the Diner baker, who waved away any attempts at payment, was topped with a couple, created by another diner regular – by bashing gaming figures – and didn’t look particularly like Tom and Kyrie, except for haircolor, but they were both attired in aprons that said “The George.”
Kyrie thought that all in all it was a very fitting set up.
Conan Lung, former enemy, and now friend, sat at one of the small booths by the window, dressed in the western wear he’d adopted when his country and western singing career had started showing signs of life. He looked a little lost between the ten gallon hat and the cowboy boots, but no one had the courage to tell him, and at any rate, his fiancé Rya liked him that way, so who were they to say anything?
Kyrie herself had just switched her normal jeans and t-shirt and apron for a short formal dress in ivory. This had been done at the insistence of everyone else who said she should have a wedding dress. It was just that wedding dresses rarely came in maternity sizes, and she was aware of her belly bulge showing rather indecently. But Rya and Bea – the dragon shifter who was dating Rafiel – had pinned a short veil over her hair.
Rafiel pulled Tom towards the front, near Anthony, and Kyrie backed way back, to near the cash register. Tom’s dad, the only parent in attendance, came up from where he’d been waiting at the door to the annex, and gave Kyrie his arm. Because she didn’t know who her parents were – having been found, newborn, at the door to St. Anne’s Catholic Church, one Christmas eve, and having been raised in the foster system – Tom’s dad had agreed to do the honors.
She couldn’t say the man had matured much, since he was a lawyer working for the Triads in New York City, but he’d… Grown in different directions.
Tom said that his father was trying very hard to be a good father, and prospective grandfather, it was just that he had never really learned how to be an adult, or any of those things, so he mostly got very excited about the idea of being a father or grandfather, but forgot the day to day work. Still, he was the best they had, and he was wearing a very handsome tuxedo, and looked the part.
Even better, Kyrie thought, he’d stopped showering them in the weirdest baby gifts ever, from little squeaky mouse toys, to little nets, which he thought would be necessary since he was quite convinced that Kyrie and Tom’s babies would be born as “kitten-dragons.” Kyrie hoped she had finally got it through his head that the ultrasounds showed a human baby, male variety.
But she’d rather not make any bets.
With Conan playing the bridal march softly on the guitar, she walked up to the salad station.
Tom turned, and still looked slightly worried, but beamed at her.
A ray of sun came out and gleamed off the polished surface of the very expensive frier that consumed most of Tom’s worry.
It was going to be all right, Kyrie thought.
She realized her mistake immediately afterwards when something behind her exploded.
Not on paper yet, because there was an error between chair and keyboard, or between gray matter and fingers. I think. Amazon tells me to fix the highlighted, but I can’t find anything highlighted. Will try again today.
If you heard those cries in the night, what would you do? Would you turn over and go to sleep again?
If someone rode to your door, their horse all a-foam or their car boiling over and screamed “the English enemy is coming” would you fluff your pillow and think “I’ll just give them a warning and call them back from the ledge. They’re stupid and misguided. Once they are informed, they’ll be fine” and go back to blissful sleep?
And no, not us: THEM. Our side is prone to its own mental issues, mostly depression, so we actually — like Zero Hedge — have predicted a hundred out of zero instance of the left actually trying to herd us into camps (note I didn’t say wanting. I said TRYING) and a hundred out of every one instance of them jailing us on political grounds. (Used to be zero, but hello January sixth 21.) Hence what I think is my curious calling: a profound and unremitting pessimist who has the duty and honor and (shakes fist at sky) G-d given mission of reality checking for conservatives.
I’ve never believed in Freudianism. Not really. I find it mostly a foundation of just-so stories that only fitted one extremely disturbed individual.
But a friend recently reminded me of the old joke “Freudianism is when you say something but you mean your mother.”
I’m not fond of that “This is what you really meant” because I’m sick and tired of the left pulling that nonsense. They seem to have forgotten that to psychoanalyze someone you need to have a set of data that makes sense, or, for that matter, a set of data that’s applied equally. Instead, they just decide that we “really” are racists, sexists and homophobes (there is an epistemological reason for this, but it is rooted in their philosophy, not ours.) And when we fail to sound/act/do anything as racists/sexists/homophobes, and in fact are much more tolerant than their side, and more interested in helping individuals of any shape and color and inclination, they decide we must be speaking in code and that it’s a “dog whistle.” It apparently never occurs to them that communicating such codes and dog whistles would take a 24/7 effort, a vast network and…. oh, yeah, individualists following a plan. My friends on the left, je suis desole, and I agree with you that this is frustrating as heck, but the individualists always fail to organize. You’d actually know if we had a code book, and dog whistles, not because you’d intercept them, or because you’d have to look for them, but because all over this great land of ours people on the right would be shouting at each other in offices, getting in fisticuffs on the street, and hair pulling in supermarkets and the great sound going up would be “Damn it, Bob. I told you Purple Ant means immigrant. Why do you insist on thinking it means gay?”
The only reason I can imagine for them not to perceive that is that they are locked in a philosophy that denies the validity of all other philosophies. Or if you prefer, in a cult.
Any philosophy that says “and it’s invalid to disagree with us. And if you express an opinion/idea/analysis contrary to ours you are a hater who hates” is a totalitarian philosophy. It might not have armies or the control of governments (spoiler, it does though in the US…. well, you’ll see) but if it had them it would already be stacking bodies several deep. And in Europe, where they rule in a velvetish way they’ve taken apart a centuries-old civilization and are in the process of killing entire countries slowly, through denial of care to the elderly and discouragement of births. Because nothing must exist outside it.
You see, their philosophy tells them that destroying civilization is CARING and that after they do that, everyone will be free, the environment will be perfect, we shall study war no more, and it will be paradise. How could you be against that? (Kind of like the puppy kicking morons who thought the only reason we could oppose the craptastic shit they’ve been giving awards to is that we oppose the “inclusion” and “diversity” of the awards (which mostly translates to white, well-off females, sometimes with an Asian female, a white female in a bad perm and fake tan, or a guy in a fright wig) and are afraid for our “privilege” as “White males” — since only one of us was a white male, none of us ran publishing houses and only one was a best-seller, you’d think they’d see the problems: we had no privilege, and frankly I’d like a hell of a lot more diversity than their stultifyingly white and Marxist circles promote. But I’d like it naturally, and for good writing. Good writing doesn’t even enter the equation for them, because they’ve been told that “good” means “Preachy” and “diversity of authors.” Bah.)
Again and again, even as they control society and for the last 20 years at least have been brutally ruthless about suppressing anyone who disagrees with them, they tell us the only reason we disagree with them is “privilege.” And since we have no privilege and they know it, they are now desperately hunting in the weeds for “systemic privilege” which is an invisible thing that only they can see. If they could they chuck us in ponds, and if we drowned we wouldn’t have privilege. (But still be dead.)
Anyway, so I tend not to believe in “coded messages.” Or saying one thing over and over without realizing you’re doing it. Life has very few messages from Fred.
But there are some. And holy hell, I can read print when it’s six feet tall and written in indelible ink.
Which this is.
Look, they’ve gone rabid since 2016. They didn’t see the loss coming. They were planning for everything to go smoothly, as the narrative in their head (The future belongs to them, you know) and what they’ve been taught told them it would. And then…. WHAM.
I don’t know if they realize that the internet totally changed the game. I suspect not, because if they did, they wouldn’t run around doing the world’s stupidest shit while trying to control it.
I suspect they know something has changed, but they have no idea what. And I don’t think — at least consciously — they know they’ve pushed too far, or that they’re at the edge of a massive preference cascade, or that the more they push now — and 2020 was already an excess of panicked pushing — the worse it will get, the faster the flip will come and the harder and more violent it will be.
Subconsciously. Well, there is a reason for a while there they were running around on social media trying to keep the word Romania from being mentioned, or the flag of Romania from being posted.
And that’s what this post is about. The left KNOWS. Subconsciously they KNOW. They’re getting more and more scared that they are about to get a Ceaușescu Christmas gift.
But because their conscious can’t process the threat — because they know — know, I tell you — that they have the majority of people with them; that the youth particularly is theirs now and forever; that those of us who oppose them are poor, ignorant and stupid as well as very old (we’re also rich, machiavelic and full of power. No. Don’t ask me how. Shape shifting?); and they know they’re the good people, and if they question any of those assumptions they’ll stop being good and will be shunned by all the good people — they are acting like rabid weasels in a trap and snapping and pushing ever more loudly, like that will save them.
Save them from what? I don’t know. I mean, the crap that Hunter was up to, in and of itself is bad enough, but one gets the feeling as panicked as they are, there must be far more terrible things hiding in the shadows, things that if they came out would rob them forever of credibility and power, if not outright get them that “Christmas gift.” (Honestly for them losing power and face is worse than death.)
And so–
And so looking at their actions gives you a curious double vision. I said before that I feel like they’re trying to establish the Soviet Union as the Berlin wall is coming down. That’s still true, but everything they do is like that.
Look, they believe they have the majority of people, and yet they massively rig elections. Then they run around telling us we can’t investigate, because that will weaken belief in elections. Yeah. Because “shut up peasant and believe the impossible numbers” builds confidence. They locked the entire country down for a severe flu, on nothing much. They are trying to get everyone to take a vaccine that is not needed for most and makes little sense for anyone but the most at risk (and maybe not for them, since I suspect we already had herd immunity); they are destroying the cities they hold; they are amping the indoctrination in schools to the point even suburban parents finally see it. They are demanding loyalty oaths and Maoist struggle sessions in corporations.
They are what can only be classified as completely and thoroughly insane.
But their subconscious keeps sending out signals. They rigged Jan. 6th but they still were really scared. Scared out of all proportion by a group of patriots carrying flags and signs. At the same time they were also using it for propaganda. I’m sorry, I’m using meme pictures because it’s easier. Also because yesterday a friend posted this meme:
And someone said “Who is taking the pictures? If they were that scared, how come the photographer wasn’t?”
Again, it’s a duality of mind. Their own side was using this for propaganda. For propaganda the representatives needed to be scared. And they were scared. Particularly the ones on the supposed right, which is amazing (and probably means they know better than anyone how pissed their constituents are). But at the same time the photographer wasn’t, and this meant nothing to them.
Because their terror has nothing to do with a group of people they knew were inoffensive and set up for a fall. It has to do with the reason they felt the need to set up a fake “attack” at all. Because they are scared. They are terrified. Despite their philosophy that tells them they can’t lose, they know their loss is inevitable, and are insanely, haphazardly, in a panic, trying to delay it. When each attempt backfires, the panic and the double vision increases.
This all became clear in my head today when I saw this meme:
Ignore the joke. Okay, you’re allowed to giggle. But ignore the joke. I haven’t received the dire warning yet, but all my friends have (yes, I know) always on the “right wing” content.
As far as I can tell, having seen some screen caps my friends have done…. the wording is spot on.
Look at that wording. They admit enough people are angry to warrant this warning. ANGRY. And they of course put disappointment in there, because since we’re pre-ordained to to lose, we MUST, of course, be disappointed, right? That’s their sop. But they know we’re angry. Angry enough they’re trying to silence us.
Look, our side has been coming out of depression — partly because the depression needed the continuously reinforcing push from the information entertainment industrial complex. We’ve largely escaped that and found each other. The reason the gaslighting was so needed is that look, guys, there was never a reason for collective depression, because we’ve had two transformative presidents in the last 50 years: Reagan and Trump. And the left never recovered and will never recover — and the first stage of coming out of a deep, suicidal depression is (TRUST ME ON THIS, chilluns) raging anger. I’m seeing the most quiet and sweet people posting things that even the hot heads didn’t post five or six years ago.
And that is the tip of the iceberg. Because the left’s grand-unified-plan to steal all the things involved destroying the economy and giving us more than enough reasons to be righteously pissed — IF WE HADN’T BEEN BEFORE — so the anger I sense, just off common people on the street is… well…. the very quiet and eery calm before the storm.
Which is why the left is trying to… stop the signs of anger. As though that would stop the anger. Because we can’t be angry at them, right? They are the GOOD people. And if they just do this one simple trick, and don’t allow our simple minds to realize we’re NOT the only ones angry, this will all pass.
They can ignore the screaming outside the window, the bells ringing in the distance, and the smell of fire, and turn over, and go back to sleep. And it will all be all right, because their win in the end. Their philosophy says so.
Wait! It’s not working? They must tamp down on the signs of anger from those very stupid people harder and with more force, and explain their philosophy louder, and make up “lying but true” stories about out history, so that the stupid people will see the invisible demons they’re seeing.
There is only one, very narrow path in which they don’t get a (probably early, if I’m honest) Ceaușescu Christmas gift. One that, yeah, sure, will destroy them, but will also leave a scar in this nation’s psyche that will take centuries to wash off if ever.
And that’s to shock them enough that they realize their philosophy isn’t inevitable, their victory isn’t fated, and that at this point they need to stop being “woke” and actually wake up and engage with the rest of the nation on equal terms, and actually talk.
Before I’m accused of blowing smoke up y’all’s asses, no I don’t think it’s possible. Someone here described the reaction of his autistic son to having his lefty beliefs questioned. But it’s not just the autistic. This is the reaction of cult members. They can’t question because if they do they lose their identity as the “good” and, oh, yeah “the smart” people. And they can’t face that. Just can’t. Or at least most of them can’t and won’t.
Maybe. I mean, they are very scared, and there is a point at which programming breaks. We know that from doomsday cults.
Yeah, okay, it’s a million to one chance but miracles do happen.
And anyway it’s the only thing we can do right now, when the birds have gone silent and the clouds gather in the horizon.
I wonder if humans were always so prone to thinking “if we can control everything from one central point, that will save time and money and make everything perfect” or if where we are is a deformation from generations taught this fallacy which is at the heart of socialism/communism/totalitarianism.
As much as I like blaming everything on Marx (the fact that there is no dedicated pissoir installed on his grave is a reproach on our civilization) the truth is that there was this kind of insane idea at the back of minds going back as far as I can read. You know, the idea that it’s all mechanical, and that most humans are interchangeable widgets who can be controlled by the ‘superior beings’ in the center.
I’m going, however, to assume that it got worse with the industrial age and mass production. Because humans are very good at reasoning from one incident and creating a whole category/class/order. Arguably this was largely responsible for our survival and ascendance to dominant species. Because we learn from very little, and extrapolate whole classes.
We don’t go “Grorrg went into the forest alone and all we found was a mangled hand and a bit of his liver. It’s an isolated case, and we can all totally go to the forest alone.” No. We go “Very bad things in the forest made this happen. Don’t go into the forest alone, particularly at night.”
Of course, half the time this is a misfire. I mean maybe Grorrg was a complete ass who was having affairs with half the women in the village, and he didn’t in fact go into the forest alone. No, he went into the forest followed by every man in the village, plus Mkrog’s pet tiger, and he got no more than he deserved.
But “Don’t go into the forest alone” still makes sense, since we know there are things there that could eat us, except for the little bit of liver.
So, because we are prone to doing that, it’s common to think and say things like “I did this, it worked for me. You do this.” In fact, half the people in the world go around pissing off the other half on any given day by doing that. Only, of course, you know, the halves switch regularly, so it’s impossible to catch all the assholes and beat them with the two by four with the nails in it. Sometimes we are the assholes.
But why is that incredibly annoying? If something works for someone, why wouldn’t it work for you?
Well– yeah. Okay. Look my best friend, growing up, who was closer to me than any sister could be, was very good at ballet. Fortunately she had known me from birth, so she never told me “well, if you need to relax you should learn ballet. I always feel happy and energized.”
She didn’t do that, because she KNEW me. She knew I had two left feet, no spacial visualizing ability and no memory for movement. Which means even in normal aerobics classes (which was the gym classes we had, by and large) I usually looked at what the teacher was doing and then executed it backwards, sideways and tripping on my own two feet at the end. In fact, it should be impossible to mess it up as badly as I did, and most gym teachers refused to believe I’d done it accidentally and instead insisted that I was mocking them…. Add to that that while she was this lithe, elfin critter, I was taller than most men by 12 (for those who met me, yes, Portuguese men were tiny back then) and had shoulders like a lumberjack.
In the same way, knowing she was desperately dyslexic, I never told her if she wanted to know the end of the story to something I’d started, she could d*mn well write it herself. (No. I’m dyslexic too, but …. something happened to things that went in her head and needed to come out on paper.)
So my solutions didn’t work for her and hers didn’t work for me.
We all have had relationships like that and understand that. It’s just when you go from there to characteristics that are…. less tangible, like will power, ability to concentrate, ability to memorize, or even — just — ability to keep interest, we forget we’re not all the same and attribute the worst possible motives to someone — including ourselves — when the good example fails to stick.
Look, take me (please. Most of the time I’m very tiresome.) I’ve been blessed with more talents and opportunities than I ever believed possible. Particularly when I was crying every night before gym class. So, if I am so smart, why ain’t I rich?
Well…. many things. In theory I know what to do so we can be debt free and doing very well indeed. In theory I know what to do so my career takes off, too.
The devil is in the fiddly bits. (Not those fiddly bits. Take your minds out of the gutter.)
For instance, sure, I know the theory of how to save money and invest, and…. but my brain finds investments all too risky. And besides, it rather have food and things, so we have them if we need them.
As for the career….
I figured out part of the problem — besides ADHD etc. — yesterday, because I was talking to younger son who said something like “Portugal is choc full of talent. Choc full of people who can perform miracles with inadequate materials and training ONCE. Then abandon whatever they just did and go off to try more difficult things.”
Not only is he right, but holy hell, did it hit hard. You see, as I’m packing my hobby materials, and realizing some I’ll never do anything with ever again (and getting rid of them) I realized that I tend to buy/find things to do and be obsessive about them till I do them well. And then lose all interest. Worse, I don’t really have any interest in the things I make. I just want to be able to do them. (Hence the strange saga of egg carving. Don’t go there.) Now this was part of son’s pitch for “Since you’re going to make weird crap, let me sell it” but you know, temperament is in some measure inherited, and–
Well, you see, that’s the problem with writing. Writing is very easy to succeed at if you do the same book over and over, with minor variations on a regular schedule. So, of course, I need to write in multiple genres, and my books CHANGE because well, otherwise I get bored. And….
Now the second is semi-controllable. I have after all managed to write sequels. And I’m working on it, because unfortunately professional success passes by series these days. But it took forever to discipline myself enough to approach it this way.
Hell, it took forever to even understand it about myself. And the dime only fully dropped this week.
You’re probably going to say most people are not that complicated. But I really think that most people are. They just appear simple from a distance.
So “From each according to his ability; to each according to his need” sounds great…. from a great distance. But who determines what each needs, when some of us take years to figure it out and have to make mistakes to find out.
I mean, look, how would I guess I was an introvert who needs to see some people every day? I should have been happy in the suburbs. I love not seeing other people from my windows (or not that many people.) I like well tended gardens. I — I go berserk and put myself under house arrest, because when I walk out it’s like walking through blasted land, with no human beings in sight. And the back of my brain panics and goes nuts…. and then depresses me, because it’s obviously not safe out there — where is everyone? — and so I shouldn’t go out either.
Now try being a central planner, planning for millions and millions (or if the one-world-government ever got their way) billions of people.
To do that, you have to imagine people as spherical balls, all alike. We know if we roll them down a slope of niches, most will end up in one, right?
Humans are not like that. Humans are like pieces of a very complicated, intentionally designed to deceive puzzle, so it’s impossible to tell if you’re looking at part of a sofa or a cat’s tail.
You make it impossible for humans to find their own niches, do what they want, and adjust to their peculiar brains and circumstances and you’re going to have unending misery, uneeded death and terrible suffering. Or as we call it: communist countries.
You give humans the same basic start and conditions: like, you know equality before the law, and stability and let them act each in his own self interest and boy, howdee, you have miracles of tech, more food produced than could ever be needed, and a world full of wonder.
No, people won’t all end up in the same place. How could they? Not only do they all have different abilities and capacities and problems, but they deal with them differently. So, yeah, some people will be a lot richer than others. But the point is, in a free society, “poor” is what middle class is in a lot of the other world.
Oh, sure, there will be the very poor and dysfunctional, like the homeless. But there is a level of damage at which you can’t really make people function and work in society. At best you can ensure they don’t starve to death, which mostly the free world manages.
But you can’t save every one all the time. Horrible things will still happen, because humans aren’t all the same, and some are completely messed up, whether it’s their fault or not. (And we can’t know.)
It’s a terrible thing to accept, if you’re halfway competent, but no. You can’t bring everyone up to even half your level. Best you can do is look after yourself and those you love. And even then, sometimes, you fail with those you love best. Because humans are complicated.
But central planning doesn’t solve that problem. It solves the problem of making sure that all identical spheres end up in identical places.
And because humans aren’t identical spheres, it tries to grind, shave and shatter the irregular puzzle pieces into spheres.
Which works about as well as you’d expect. In the end you have useless pieces, and a complete mess.
It’s time we start proclaiming loudly that humans aren’t identical widgets. And refuse to oblige them when they insist on shoving the cat into the sofa.
hen in the Course of human events it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature’s God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation.
