Aryan [alien] Nation
Inhibits their re-education
By Crips and by Bloods
And by Hispanic studs
For rehab and recreation.
Aryan [alien] Nation
Inhibits their re-education
By Crips and by Bloods
And by Hispanic studs
For rehab and recreation.
Hi Readers. Thanks for coming by.
Humanity’s had a change of heart, expectation-wise, the past few centuries. Most of us have gotten into the habit of believing everything’s going to get better, one generation to the next. Which is contrary to the overall historical human experience.
Fact is, once humans organized themselves a step up from savages or barbarians, things usually stayed pretty much the same for the average person. Sure, the wash and waves added here, subtracted there, but things just didn’t vary enough to notice over the long haul.
Doesn’t much matter where they lived. Society arranged itself into aristocrats, living as comfortably as they could manage, and peasants/slaves, struggling to get by and keeping the aristocrats in cannon-fodder, food, affluence.
Hundreds, maybe thousands of generations of peasants in Asia, Europe, some of the Americas, some of Africa, muddling along not expecting anything different to pop up to improve things for them. Maybe more rain, maybe less, maybe the local lord or baron wouldn’t hatch any schemes involving warfare, higher takes of their crops. Maybe they’d be as warm and no hungrier next year as this. Peasants didn’t expect to become aristocrats.
And generally the aristocrats didn’t expect any widespread changes, either. Maybe they’d pick the right side in a fracas or intrigue, get control of more land or peasants, but no general improvements for aristocrats. No general decline. Aristocrats didn’t expect to become peasants.
That’s how human society has functioned throughout history once complex social organization came along. Wasn’t until technology opened things up a bit, the Americas became accessible with a lot of land to take away from the folks who were there, then Africa and Australia, that a wedge was driven into the potential for peasants to become aristocrats.
For a few lifetimes things got better for the average human all over the world. Got better even for the aristocrats. And everyone came to expect things to continue to get better. Lost the old habit of just hoping they wouldn’t get worse.
If stability and general affluence had anything to do with the goals of human beings it might have been possible. Making sure people everywhere got fed, stayed as warm and healthy as conditions allowed. Might have been done if it were a priority for anyone, but it never was.
Because human beings have a long history of telling what they expect from life by their actions. And those actions have nothing at all to do with improving the lives of people beyond the range of whatever they find advantageous to call ‘we’.
Inevitably, this probably means the warp and weave of human expectations will re-stabilize to something more akin to the past. To things generally staying the same, or getting worse, generation-to-generation. With the average person just trying to hang on, hoping things won’t get worse.
And the human cadre of aristocrats not much giving a damn whether they get worse for the peasantry, so long as it doesn’t get worse for themselves.
There’s a strong argument to be made it’s how we like it. How we want it. How we’ve always wanted it.
Good morning readers. Thanks for coming by for a read this morning. Some of you might have noticed the lady who administers this blog hasn’t been around for several days. Fact is, she’s taken off from her two jobs in Olathe, KS, gone on a road trip.
I asked her on the phone before she left to watch for bumper stickers during her travels. This dearth of bumper stickers in Texas during a major election year has me puzzled and I’m wondering if it’s happening everywhere.
Last I heard from her about it, she’d gone from Olathe, KS, to Tucumcari, New Mexico without seeing a single bumper sticker. Something unprecedented in my experience and observation.
Maybe people have just lost track of the abyss separating the two major parties in the US. Maybe they’ve noticed, no matter which party they vote for, it always turns out the same no matter which one’s elected.
This has to be a big blow to the bumper sticker industry, which might be the only industry left on US soil. Something needs to be done quickly to save the situation, and I’m going to do my patriotic duty to try to help.
Since there’s not a nickle’s worth of spit other than rhetoric separating the two parties, it’s time to get what difference there is out where people can see and understand it.
So here I am, doing my tiny part to help it along.
There’s something mildly annoying and intrusive about having ourselves tagged and numbered by some damned academian somewhere as a particular personality type. But when my good friend, Rich, sent me this link along with the question, “Does this remind you of anyone you know?” I clicked it.
“INTJs are strong individualists who seek new angles or novel ways of looking at things. They enjoy coming to new understandings. They tend to be insightful and mentally quick; however, this mental quickness may not always be outwardly apparent to others since they keep a great deal to themselves. They are very determined people who trust their vision of the possibilities, regardless of what others think. They may even be considered the most independent of all of the sixteen personality types. INTJs are at their best in quietly and firmly developing their ideas, theories, and principles.”
—Sandra Krebs Hirsch
If I were the kind of person who allowed himself to get pissed off about things other people do and say this would really piss me off. In the first place, I don’t even believe in psychologists and psychology. What the hell do they know about anything?
Secondly, wrapping people up into a nice little package and putting a colorful bow on it, sending it out as though it were a gift for anyone who wants to claim he knows something about people and the way they think is an invitation for more of that sort of insufferable thinking-behavior disguised as learning.
Thirdly, the way institutional science is forever confusing itself with engineering without ever pondering the consequences, next thing you know there’ll be all manner of psychologists getting themselves government grants to devise ways to profile their homespun stereotypes so’s some branch of government with an opinion about a particular type can identify them for their own purposes.
For instance, every day you can read about physicists at CERN and other labs patting themselves on the back and saying, “Oh yeah, we’re creating baby black holes. They just vanish. No danger of one of them getting away and gulping up the planet earth.” As though they know what the hell a microscopic black hole is doing, or likely to do in orbit. Heck, maybe it was just in a slower orbit and got left behind until the next time earth comes around Old Sol to pass through and grow a little every pass.
Think about it. Those Manhattan Project guys developing the atomic bomb consisted of a significant portion of whom thought testing that device might set fire to the atmosphere. They got out-voted, not because anyone knew it wouldn’t, but because most believed it was a low probability.
How’s that for some exercise in risk-taking judgement? “Hey, let’s put it to a vote. How many think there’s a big chance if we detonate this thing it will destroy all life on the planet by setting fire to the atmosphere?”
40 PhD physicists raise their hands.
“Okay, how many don’t think there’s a very big chance it will?
60 PhD physicists raise their hands.
“Cool! Let’s run with it!”
And the majority turned out to be right. Whoopee! Now, generations of scientists later all over the world consortium of pointee-heads in laboratories and behind desks at universities can hold that up as an example of how to measure risks they’re taking without ever getting outside their closed circles of wisdom and knowledge.
But I’ve digressed. Back to these grant-prostitutes calling themselves psychologists.
You and everyone else can be assured there are graduate students somewhere creating a box to hold all your personality traits, figuring out the buttons to push to produce a particular behavior from you. What words, images, sounds will inspire you to buy a particular type of product, vote a particular way, choose a direction for your life. The grad students just do the work, but some hotshot pointee-headed prof will give a paper about it when the National Association of Prostitute Psychologists meets next spring and position himself for more grant money.
But you can be equally assured that cop shops and the ilk have hired them out to help them see what else is in the box they have you in. Yeah, you’re all these things, so you’re also probably a serial killer, terrorist, baby-raper, or someone who just doesn’t have any damned use for authority figures.
You’ll be damned lucky if they don’t outlaw you sometime because some hired-hand grad student working for a grant-hack prof put the wrong thing in your box.
Here’s an example. A gentle, harmless personality box. But just listen to what else is in there to light up the eyes of the cop shops. But I suppose old John Denver’s probably not concerned about it.
The John Denver Show (BBC), 1973 – Poems, Prayers and Promises
Lose the God-Damned Bigotry or Quit Calling Yourself an American -You’re Walkin’ on the Fightin’ Side of Me
In 1970 a friend and I came across a guy taping one of these up near the University of Texas. He had a ream of them beside him on the concrete. We discussed it with him and his noggin required surprisingly little thumping to persuade him to give us all the posters and swear he would not do it anymore. He didn’t have the strength of his convictions.
I suppose I kept a few of them boxed up with other curiosities from over the decades.
The administrator for this blog found a few of them among some boxes of scribblings and asked what it was all about.
Merle’s had a change of heart, repudiated a lot of what he said and did during those times, says we all make mistakes and we all eventually grow from having made them. But interestingly, instead of vanishing from arena of public bias, the past two years has seen a re-emergence of surprisingly similar material intended to assist in denouncing the US president.
Being a good American and a good human being isn’t about waving a flag, hating Democrats or Republicans, Muslims, or people who say ugly words about political leaders. It isn’t about fear, hysterical dialect, consumerism and waste.
Being a good American and a good human being is about personal responsibility. About having enough confidence and courage not to feel threatened by every little thing. About assuming the responsibility of not being part of the problem any more than is absolutely necessary. About self-reliance.
Sometimes it’s not obvious how a person might accomplish those things.
If all of us could pull that off our own lives would be a lot better, and America would be a better place for it. But insofar as personal responsibility and being a good American, we can expand on that a bit. Here are a few things a good American might do without having to shout from the rooftops about what an admirable person he/she is:
Dependence on hydrocarbons is the ultimate problem of this nation you say you love.
But there’s a lot more to being a good American, as opposed to a good human being. Here are a few more ways you could try to be part of the solution, rather than part of the problem:
Quit buying ANY foreign product if you can avoid it. Even if it saves you a few cents. Just say no. Refuse and make it clear why you’re refusing. If US workers didn’t manufacture it and you can live without it, don’t buy it. If your old one’s broken buy a replacement used in a thrift store, garage sale or flea market. If it can be repaired take it to a local appliance repair shop and let a US worker repair it. Every dollar you spend on a new foreign-manufactured product reduces the value of the dollar you’ll get next paycheck because of the overwhelming trade deficit.
If this country is going to survive another century the population is going to have to begin manufacturing what it consumes, energy-wise and every other wise. Building hamburgers to sell back and forth to one another isn’t enough to keep a country sound.
Americans are going to have to produce products, and the other Americans are going to have to buy them. We can’t continue indefinitely sending our chunks of our trade deficit off to bongo-bongo land for petroleum, to China for plastic bags, television sets, seat covers and rubber monster toys. We can’t starve out our farmers by buying agricultural products from Mexico and Argentina.
Being a good American involves a hell of a lot more than getting angry when some foreigner says something ugly about it. Loyalty to America and Americans is about keeping America alive, productive, self-reliant, healthy economically.
If we can do those things we’ll find we’re spending a lot less time hurling empty rhetoric back and forth, hating the owners of bongo-bongo land oil, a lot less time bombing the hell out of foreign lands, a lot less angry and full of fear and hatred.
And we wouldn’t need to wave flags to prove we were good Americans.
MERLE HAGGARD – Fightin’ Side Of Me
Afterthought: Tffnguy’s got a rant on similar but not identical subjects you might find worth a read, along with comments by a number of oldsters on my blogroll. http://terlinguabound.blogspot.com/2011/08/divide-and-conquer.html
Johnny Cash– Ballad of Ira Hayes
I was browsing Native American forums, blogs and websites, reading about ethnic supremacy. One NA has a signature mentioning the Navajo Rez, “where commodity cheese rules!”
Don’t get me wrong. The NAs on those sites weren’t complaining about all the privileges they get that non-Native Americans don’t.
But the accusations and complaints about racism in this government and among non-Natives got me thinking on the subject.
Ethnic supremacy manifests itself in a lot of ways. Including patronizing, providing special privilege and freebies for no explainable reason.
I had to conclude, after thinking on it a while, they are absolutely right. I can’t fathom any other explanation than ethnic supremacy for the commodity cheese, health care, tax-free land, and all the rest:
I’ll bet you answered no on all counts.
So think about it.
Why are you providing Native Americans free commodities you have to pay for?
Why, exactly, do you believe Native Americans can’t get jobs, same as you do, to pay for their own food?
Why do you provide them roads and schools on the reservations with your tax money, when you have to also pay for the roads and schools in your own communities?
Why, exactly, do you believe Native Americans can’t pay taxes to build schools for their children and roads in their communities with their taxes the same as you do?
Why do you believe they shouldn’t pay property taxes on their lands, same as you do?
You have to worry, try to find health insurance, pay for dentists, plan and save, give up other things so you can assure when you or your kids get sick there’s a doctor, a hospital. Braces for their teeth, dentists to drill the cavities.
Why do you believe Native Americans can’t provide for their own health and dental care, same as you do? Save, sacrifice, plan. Same as you have to do in your own life?
The reason is obvious enough.
You are an ethnic supremacist. Somewhere inside yourself you believe now, today, Native Americans are more ignorant than you, less intelligent, less responsible, shiftless.
Almost 150 years after your ancestors finished killing off as many as they could catch and sending the surviving ancestors of the ones living on the Rez today to live on reservations you’re still thinking of them exactly the way your ancestors thought of them. Still telling them indirectly there’s something primitive inside them keeping them from being able to function in a modern world. Still telling them they’re victims, even though they were born naked same as you and I were.
You believe they are a bunch of lazy drunks and can’t work, can’t plan, can’t take responsibility for their own lives.
No matter how much you pad it with sensitivity and phony warmth, with sentimentality and fantasies about how sweetly they love the land, with excuses about how badly men who have been dead centuries treated other long-dead men, the bottom line is you believe they can’t make it the same way you do.
If you didn’t believe they were all those things, you’d scream to high heaven. Instead, you wrap yourselves with good feelings about all that’s being done for the NAs. Give yourselves warm hugs.
And they hate you for it.
Nobody loves an ethnic supremacist.
Afterthought: Ira Hayes didn’t die drunk in that ditch because of anything white men did to his ancestors. He didn’t die in that ditch because of anything white men did directly to him during his own lifetime. Ira Hayes died in that ditch because he didn’t come home from WWII and do what the other men pictured in that flag raising did when they returned. He died in that ditch because it was what was expected of him.
During the early 1990s I had a lady friend with whom I was close enough to
exclusively share a few years of my life. Interior decorator lady who grew up in the same town and entirely different social strata than I did.
I first remember noticing her in the fifth grade, and from then until the time I left that burg as a high-schooler, I don’t believe she ever spoke to me. She was upper crust and I was somewhere down there below the lower crust.
Anyway, 30-35 years later we spent a few years together seeing one another every day and night. She had a lot of strong points, beautiful woman, smart, and well-intentioned. I’d mentioned to her once that it used to really hurt my feelings in school on Valentine’s Day. I hated it, all those kids getting valentines from one another and I didn’t get any.
Valentine’s Day, maybe 1993, ’94, I headed down to her house after work. Came in the door and fell over. She’d decorated the house with valentines, fed me a piece of cake shaped like a valentine, and handed me a box shaped like a valentine wrapped. Made me open it.
Crazy woman had filled that box with old-timey valentines like were around when we were kids…… full, chock full, that box was, with valentines claiming to be from kids we went to school with, all addressed to the kid I used to be …… the lower-class scum of yesteryear. Crazy stuff.
I’ve cried maybe twice during my adulthood, but for some reason I was having to hold back tears on that one. But that isn’t why I’m writing this blog entry. I just wanted to preface the next thing with that one, so you’d understand she wasn’t a bad person underneath everything.
Anyway, she had two habits I found particularly irritating, aside from being miserable and liking to spread it around, toward the end of our relationship. She pronounced the “G” in guacamole. “Gwakamohlee.” Drove me nuts. Knew better, but maybe couldn’t remember, maybe didn’t care.
Secondly, she had this thing I figure came from being upper- crust as a kid.
“You find someone to work on the roof?” I might ask.
“Oh yes,” she might warble. ” Hired this little Mexican man.”
When I see the guy, he ain’t little. He’s 240 pounds. But he is Hispanic.
“Oh!” she might say. “I hired this little Indian woman to do some bead work for me.” Turned out the little Indian woman was taller than she was and weighed in heavier than the roof repair man.
You get the picture. Non-Anglo-Saxons were little, particularly if they were hired to do something.
No, the lady wasn’t a bigot, precisely. She wouldn’t sit still for racial slurs unless they were subtle, oblique, or less so, but about Navajo folks, whom she generally disliked. She conveyed the impression instead, that she found little men who did repairs to the plumbing so cute, so lovable, so adorable and quaint. Something akin to looking through the big end of a telescope at them standing there so tiny doing their assigned jobs.
When we parted company after a few years it wasn’t pleasant, but I learned a lot about myself from her, once she began explaining what all was wrong with me. It was worth a lengthy listen because she probably knew me as well as anyone ever has.
After I decided it was over I continued talking to her every night on the telephone for about a month, an hour-or-so per night, determined to listen carefully and consider everything ugly she could think of to say about me without any argument. She mightn’t be right, or she might be right but about something I didn’t want to change, or she might be right and I might want to change it.
But we don’t get many opportunities in this life to have someone who knows us well go into loving detail explaining every flaw and wart, everything we haven’t noticed about ourselves. There aren’t any little people a person could hire to do that.
Eventually I came to realize she was enjoying those protracted nightly diatribes more than was possibly good for her. She’d begun repeating herself, also. So I told her it was over.
I mostly remember her for the valentine side. The going up big was worth the coming down little.
P.S. For you bloggers, a note from Jeanne (Admin):
Click here for a chance to win a slot in The Bloggess sidebar for a month sponsored by freefringes.com
P.P.S. Another note from Jeanne (Admin):
We’re getting a few new readers from the contest site who are probably confused about my linking to some old guy’s blog… so I wanted to mention that I’m a background partner on this blog and no, I didn’t write most of these posts! I didn’t really understand the submission forms, so the blog is listed under “Jeanne Kasten”. I don’t know why. Sorry for any confusion!