Monthly Archives: November 2014

Immigration disambiguated

Hi readers.  Thanks for coming by for a read this morning.

As a 1950s kid in Portales, New Mexico, the barber shops always had a bunch of old guys sitting around educating one another [and me] about how many Germans they killed personally during the Big War [WWI], along with how bad chlorine and mustard gas stuck in the gullet.

That’s where I also learned [before Sputnik 1 put that one to sleep] how the Good Lord wasn’t going to let men put anything into orbit around the earth.  How the Bible proved it by the way He destroyed Babylon and made everyone speak different languages.  You don’t hear a lot of that stuff anymore.

But another thing a kid heard a lot in those days was, “My granddaddy fought the Indians for this land.  I’m damned if I’m going to let [fill in the blank] do thus and so.”  Sometimes it was the Federal Government, sometimes the Communists, sometimes it was some potential foreign aggressor he wasn’t going to let get by with it.

A lot of their grandaddies also fought the Yankees for this land, but nevermind.

For most purposes those old guys didn’t find it convenient to mention a lot of their granddaddy’s fathers also fought the Mexicans for that land and took it away from them at the point of a gun.  Pretty much everything from Texas to California with a few other places thrown in for good measure.

That’s a fair synopsis of how immigration works.  Our ancestors came in and took it away from anyone who stood in the way of them.  If someone tried to stop them they dragged them out of their houses and killed them, burned the houses down and stole their livestock.  Just the way the Hebrews did to the folks who tried to keep them from stealing their lands in the Bible.  Just the way they’re still doing it to their neighbors in Palestine.

For a longish time when North America needed white people to fight the Indians, and fight the Mexicans. Live in hovels to scratch out bare livings on hardscrabble farms, coal mines, log forests, sweatshops making textiles, steel, tools, clothing, kitchen appliances, build railroads, immigration was groovy.  They Statue of Libertied the concept.

Nobody’d figured out yet you could just send the jobs to the pestholes those people were coming from and import their products without having to put up with the people.  Everyone could stay here, close the borders and sell hamburgers and insurance policies back and forth to one another or be cops and firemen.

So now it’s only the damned immigrants of earlier generations someone’s going to have to figure out what they can do about.  Sure, a few sneak across the borders still, and a lot of Asians get let in because we need people who can read and write and cypher.  But all in all the immigrants causing all the trouble in the US today are the ones who got here sometime before WWII.

Somethings going to have to be done about those bastards.

Old Jules.

 

 

 

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Disambiguating Gratitude

Hi readers.  Thanks for coming by for a read.

I’m sure all of you are preoccupied, sneaking around every waking moment putting together all the things you’re thankful for in your lives so’s to not forget anything come Thursday.  I don’t want to interrupt that, but I’d just like to throw in a suggestion:

Try to keep it simple.  Try retain your sense of taste and perspective while you’re acknowledging all the things you’re grateful for.  Sure, you’re grateful for not being downrange of any presidential war of the moment, naturally you’re glad you’re not a Palestinian and the neighbors aren’t likely to bomb your home, set fire to the nearest hospital, nor come kick you out of the house so’s good Baptists can move in.  Of course you are.

But you don’t have to say all that.

Truth is you’re almost certainly dwelling on how damned lucky you are to have legitimate citizenship in this country because it took in the destitute downtrodden souls including your ancestors without asking a lot of questions instead of patting them on the back and sending them off to starve in the place they escaped from.

And naturally you’re thanking your lucky stars the multi-national corporations haven’t sent your particular job to some third-world cesspool where people work for a nickle a week.  Probably because you’re a cop or other government worker and they haven’t figured out how to outsource the scowling clerks doing their fingernails and talking on phones down at Department of Motor Vehicles to Chinamen.

All I’m trying to say is keep it simple this Thanksgiving.  Be glad nobody at the table is being held in a US penal institution at the moment getting anally raped by other Thanksgivers.  Be glad you’ve got a motor vehicle in the driveway you’ve never produced enough of anything during any decade of your life worth the sticker price of it.  Be thankful you’ve got at least another year of life ahead before all that Japanese radiation forces you to wonder whether all those nuclear power plants  were all that great an idea.

Maybe it’s a good time to really bundle up on Thanksgiving:  “I’m grateful for everything that’s ever happened to me in this lifetime.  I’m grateful for everything happening right this moment.  And I’m grateful for everything that is going to happen to me from now until I croak.”

That way you’ll have plenty of time to sort out the specifics without boring yourselves to tears.

Old Jules

Esophageal reflux miracle antidote

One of the two brands I've used with outstanding success.

One of the two brands I’ve used with outstanding success.

Hi readers.  Thanks for coming by for a read.

I promised yesterday that I’d share something I can attest to from personal experience to lift your spirits if you’ve got a goozle with a relaxed sphincter.  When that gorge of hellfire shoots up all the way into your nostrils it’s no fun.  Especially when you’re already following all the rules the medico community gave you to keep it from happening.

I discovered this somewhat by accident when Jeanne picked up something called, “Digestive Enzymes” because I was sleeping in the recliner because the medication wasn’t doing the job for me.   The brand wasn’t the one above and it wasn’t the veggie version, but the reflux seemed reduced or gone enough to cause me to believe it was helping.  When the bottle was gone I quit and the reflux returned.

So out of hunger I had her pick up whatever she could put her and on quickly of the same genre.  This one worked also.

So you have anecdotal antidotal evidence that in the case of the ugliest goozle in Christiandom, this stuff helps.

I take as many as a dozen per day, certainly one after each meal.  Then after the evening meal I take another every time my stomach reminds me it’s still there and ruminating on the ill treatment I gave it this lifetime.  Until bed.

Then, every time I wake to take a leak I take a Serrapeptase tablet to dissolve as much scar tissue as possible.  The stuff I got because I didn’t know about digestive enzymes.

Good luck.

 

 

 

Epiphany disambiguated

Hi readers.  Thanks for hanging in there.  I’d have written this sooner but I was waiting for a flash of profound understanding about whether ‘epiphany’ is singular, or plural.

Turns out it’s singular, but so vast it can buy beer and cigarettes without having to show its phony ID.  So here’s the thing about epiphany for those of you who haven’t yet experienced the ‘big one’.  Epiphany is what you experience when you know all the other epiphanies [singular] you’ve had during your lifetime were BS and the one you’ve just had is REAL.

You probably can avoid this by listening to talk radio.

Anyway, I’m logging on here because you readers are among the things I appreciate about being alive this long so I figured I might as well drop in and say hello.  I’ve been silent a goodly while because I didn’t figure I was going to live this long and there didn’t seem to be much to say that wouldn’t go just as well unsaid.  But there comes one of those moments when a person has to admit, “Screw it!  Ain’t any damned telling how long I’m going to hang around doing thees stupid life I’ve gotten myself into.  The sooner I get back to doing stuff the sooner I’ll get it over with, I reckons.”

So here I am, indefinitely, doing pretty well all things considered.  Pretty damned well.  All things considered.

So hello.

I’ve got some heartening news for those of you who get esophageal reflux, and some interesting things you can do with Masa Harina, but I’m going to keep you on the edge of your chairs and just announce they’ll be along.  Stay tuned.

Assuming I’m alive, everything else being equal.

Old Jules