Category Archives: America

The right tool for the right job

Hi readers.

If the Kennedy brothers had owned a floor jack and a half-inch drive impact tool when they attempted to get Vice President Lyndon Johnson assassinated every president then-until-now would have been named Kennedy and the Vietnam War would still be raging.

Okay, those inflated rear tires are on the ground, though somewhat wokkyjawed.  I’m having to skid the wheels sideways into place tightening the lugbolts with a cheater bar.  Couldn’t get the truck quite high enough to leave any room for doubt between them and the ground, so I’m punting.  Lots of good friction but nothing a cheater bar can’t handle.

But at least the whole shebang can’t come down on the brake drum if the jacks collapse. [Parenthetically, two each two-ton hydraulic jacks can be used to lift a 5 ton RV if everything else goes right and  you are dumber than cluckshit enough to try it.]

Still breathing too hard to go back out to finish it off yet.  Got to get the lugs tightened the rest of the way, then get those two jacks lowered and out from underneath.  Then put the blowout on the spare tire rack and watch these black spots in front of my eyes to see if they’re just floaters, or whether I died a little while ago but haven’t achieved Nirvana.

Lessons learned:  A man needs a 3 ton floor jack and a half-inch drive impact tool before he tries anything fancy.  If there are any Kennedys left alive I’m betting they already own some in case there’s another round of dynastic opportunity.  In fact, I’ll bet there’s a walk-in safe in the basement of the White House filled with floor jacks and impact tools.  In fact, I’ll bet somewhere there’s a National Defense Stockpile of floor jacks and impact tools controlled by Homeland Security.

Which is to say, sometime in the next year-or-three Hydrox, Niaid, Tabby and my humble ownself are gonna stick up a Harbor Freight wearing Richard Nixon masks and carrying 3/8 inch cordless drills.  Check out the SPECIALS flyers, then drag us a floor jack and impact tool out the front door at drillpoint.

Watch the evening news.

Old Jules

Alas Babylon, by Pat Frank – sculpting post-1959 culture

Before Alas Babylon hit the bookstores and was made a movie the US population hadn’t yet done any heavy thinking about the implications of Sputnik 1 and hydrogen bomb arsenals capable of being delivered to the US heartland.  Strategic Air Command was centered in Omaha, NE, and B47 bombers filled the skies.  Civil Defense was mostly the local mortuary because they owned the ambulances.  Complacency with having been victors of WWII, affluence, abundance and confidence in the future were the rule of the day.

Then along came Alas Babylon.   The story of a small piece of Florida spared the bombs and fallout from an attack by the USSR and a prolonged nuclear war.   Because it was early in the day the post-nuclear-holocaust genre hadn’t yet decided everyone had to die or turn into mutant barbarians.

The story was subdued enough to be believed.  And Americans believed it.  Beefed up Civil Defense, began the individual preparedness planning that would be required if they were to survive.

The first 20 pages of Alas Babylon describes the days leading to the war, all the usual suspects you’d hear tonight if you watched the evening news, minus the USSR.  A buildup of tensions, a US Navy fighter-bomber pilot mistakenly releases a bomb over a port in Syria destroying an ammunition train.  Secondary explosions and the beginning of mutual destruction for the US and USSR.

The book is a microscope look at the minds of the US citizenry as they existed in 1959, before ICBMs, before the moon launch, before the oceans were filled with attack and missile launching submarines.  Martin Luther King was still in the future, along with the Vietnam War, race riots in US cities, Kennedy assassinations. automobile seat belts, gas mileage and foreign cars.  Women were there to be protected, first into the lifeboats of whatever safety could be constructed during and after a nuclear war.

Alas Babylon is a good read, a great study in sociology and a particular slice of history frozen in time. 

Old Jules

 

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Tags:  alas babylon, pat frank, nuclear war, books, book reviews, reviews, history, society, sociology, human behavior, movies, psychology

Confederates and Non-Confederates

Me, trying on caps at the JC Penny store:  Why are some of these blue, other ones grey?

Store Clerk ladyWhy the grey ones are Confederates.

Me:  Oh.  Okay, what are the blue ones.

Store Clerk lady, frowning:   Um.  Those are Non-Confederates. 

Back when Keith Kelt and I were struggling through grammar school in Portales, New Mexico, a movie briefly drained our bluejeans pockets. 

Suddenly every kid in town had to have a blue, or a grey cap with a shiny bill and crossed rifles at the front.  Half-dollar at the JC Penny store had us all scrambling.  Each of us tripped down to JC Penny the instant we could scrape together the gelt. 

At which time probably all of us discovered we didn’t know enough to be making the decisions as we took cap after cap out of the bin, trying them on.  Those of us who’d seen the movie weren’t educated enough to know much about it, aside from the fact it was bloody, violent, and exciting. 

All we knew was that every kid who was anyone was wearing one of those caps.

Not until I made a fool of myself in class several years later in Junior High did I learn that the US Civil War wasn’t fought between Confederates and Non-Confederates.

Old Jules

When racism isn’t racism, bigotry isn’t bigotry

Hi readers.

Back during the bad old days of my hippy-dopesmokerism, during the throw-rocks-at-cops times, during the turbulence of the Vietnam War, this happened:

I was sitting on the steps of the University of Texas Student Union Building with two other Veterans Against the War, five self-proclaimed Black Panthers, two Viva La Raza types, and a handfull of white girlygirls not wearing bras.  Two of the girlygirls were paramours of a couple of the Panthers.  The subject of racism came up.

Keep in mind that all the Panthers and both Viva La Raza types were white-haters, though they indulged those two white guy among us by ignoring the fact we were white.  Indulged the girlygirls similarly.  And keep in mind the two Hispanics had no love for blacks, nor the blacks, any love for Hispanics.  Only the white girlygirls and we white Vets Against the War had felt no anti-black nor anti-Hispanic rage against the others of the group.

So tirades against whites became noisy, Hispanics and Panthers all in agreement, all making blanket statements proclaiming white bigotry.  Somewhere during that I asked, “You guys are lumping us all together because we’re white.  Isn’t that racism?  Is it different when you do it, as opposed to a white lumping you all together?”

Caused an uproar, general outrage and denial.  Universal even among the girlygirls, and one of the white guys.

Victims of racism can’t be racist!”  Repeated and re-phrased in numerous ways.  “Only whites can be racists because they have the power!”

Wellllllll.   Uhhhhh.

I suppose it’s probably consoling to a guy getting his ribs caved in by someone standing above him yelling, “You honky bastard!” to know he’s not the victim of bigotry and racism. 

Or my neighbor in Placitas, New Mexico, who, though an old unreconstructed hippy, couldn’t get the Hispanic guy who controlled irrigation water to open her gates to her orchard when her turn came because of his outspoken hatred of Anglos.  “My trees are dying because of what white-hating son of a bitch!”  Her old hippy too-much-sun face reddening.  “There’s nobody but other Hispanics I can appeal to!”

But at least it wasn’t racism.  At least it wasn’t bigotry she was a victim of.  Because bigotry and racism aren’t possible for people who don’t have the power.

Old Jules

Bigotry, counter-bigotry, and civility

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

I stirred up a nest of hornets with the last two posts, the first being an attempt at unbiased observations concerning everything I’ve understood through observation during my lifetime, as well as extensive reading on Jewish, Christian, western civilization, Moslem, and ancient history.  The post wasn’t intended as an attack against the state of Israel, an indictment of Jews, anything of the sort.  Even in the re-reading of it I can find nothing to support such a claim.

Nevertheless, wossname, leanpower,  a man with strong Israeli ties who, himself, is in the business of designing, manufacturing and selling war weaponry, accused me of something considerably stronger than simple anti-Semitism.  I responded in anger, and for that I apologize.   That second post.

The issue of whether or not I’m an anti-Semite is of no importance.  The larger question of whether the viewpoints I expressed in the first post are an indictment of anti-Semitism against the holder of those views, however, is indeed an important question in the modern world.  Though not to me, personally.  I have no investment in modern Israel and my views are of zero importance to anyone.

But I’d offer the suggestion that the responses to what was said in the first post contained evidence that, if I don’t fully understand the issues [and provided my views are the result of a lack of information, as opposed to being a result of a bias against Jews in general] I’m in good company among a lot of other people within the US and elsewhere.

The problem is further complicated by the fact that only a tiny piece of the western world has ever read Biblical texts, know nothing of the times surrounding the Jewish Revolt, know nothing of the times preceding WWII when the discussions began concerning a Jewish state in the Middle East.  Know nothing about the floods of Jews fleeing Germany and its neighbors during the 1930s into Spain, Portugal, the Middle East, anywhere willing to accept them.  Know nothing of the starving hoards of Jews begging all the great powers to give them refuge, and the trickle of acceptance.

The miniscule dribble of acceptance by the powers for thousands of Jews without homes, many without money, food and clothing, asking for help.  And a response amounting to refusal by default.

Seems to me the post-war context for the formation of the Israeli state is trapped within that pre-war reality, and the post-war general recognition of what had come to pass in Germany, Poland and other Axis-occupied areas  for those who didn’t flee.

Given the ignorance and horror of all that within the general non-Jewish population, the acute awareness, on-the-other-hand, by Jews, it’s not difficult to understand why discussion of the issues become heated.  If modern Israel and its behavior as a nation weren’t so crucially involved in US foreign policy, the entire matter would be better left alone.  Better left to be settled by Israel and the surrounding countries.

From my perspective, that is not the case today.  Even with the care I take to isolate myself from world news I frequently see Israel threatening to bomb, say, Iran.  Bomb it whether the US approves, or disapproves.  Which would almost certainly expand to US involvement, and quite possibly a lot of other countries.

Which is to say, evidently modern Israel is willing without the consent of the US to lead the US by the nose into conflicts the US mightn’t find to be within its own best interests.  Or to allow Israel to be destroyed without the support of the US, which Israel is acutely aware won’t happen.

In that context is it acceptable for a US citizen to have viewpoints differing from those manifested in the behavior of the modern Israeli state?  Is it possible to examine and criticize, even wrongly, the policies of Israel if that examination leads to a conclusion that Israel has other alternatives than constant war?

Is it possible to examine and express these views, even if the views are developed partly out of ignorance, without being a Jew hater?  An anti-Semite?  A follower of the beliefs of the ELDERS OF ZION lunatics?

What I believe is of no consequence to anyone.  Israel and Washington DC don’t call me for advice on these matters.  So the post, whatever I might have said in it, was of zero value except to arouse an Israeli militarist to play the race card to stifle any expression of perspectives other than the Israeli one.

I withdraw from the whole affair.

Old Jules

Blown tires and ‘the homeless’

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

Strange trip to town yesterday to get my town business taken care of.  A guy was telling me about a bunch of ‘homeless people’ living down behind the Kerrville Public Library and the Guadalupe River, and I moseyed down for a looksee.  Middling surprising.

Kerrville’s a fairly wealthy, relatively small community filled with mostly retirees from government, military, and top drawer private sector.  It has golf courses the way most small towns in Texas used to have churches…. one-per-street-corner.  The rest of the population mostly makes do fetching and carrying, ringing up cash-registers to fill the needs of the golf-coursers.  Ingram used to be a different town a dozen miles down the road, but now it’s indistinguishable from Kerrville except for the population being part of the old-timers and people working to make life better for the rich retirees.

But here, out-of-sight in the midst of all this resides a colony of ruffled, smelly people sleeping on the grass and under the bridge over the Guadalupe.  A cursory look would number them somewhere between 50 and 100.  A good many do their washing up and hanging around in the library to get cool now, warm when it’s cold.

Not a homogenous group in any way I could see.  Some are the usual ‘homeless’ stereotype in the larger urban areas, some younger, some drugees and alcoholics, some maybe ghetto types, and some you wouldn’t spot as any of this, just seeing them on the street.

Evidently the Kerrville city government’s getting enough complaints about it to cause them to try to figure out how they can drive them off to somewhere else where they won’t be a nuisance.

I’ve never been comfortable with the word, ‘homeless’ as a means of placing people into a tribal stereotype.  The emphasis on the structure a person dwells in as a tribal name is just too damned lots-of-what-I-wish-different-about-America-disease.  The straight fact is that every single one of us has a few thousand generations of ancestors who lived in similar homes to the ones these people sleep under, minus the library. 

And the names we give our ancestors are peasants, serfs, nomads, hunter-gatherers, the whole range of words describing people who weren’t aristocrats, struggled to stay alive any way they could.  People who were fetching and carrying for the aristocrats and starving/freezing-to-death-doing it.  Filthy, stinking peasants, serfs, nomads, scratching out a living any way they could, stalking the game animals in the rich-man forests and getting hanged for it, or wandering around grubbing for nuts, plants and meat varmints they could eat because they hadn’t advanced far enough to have aristocrats.

What those people used to be was tramps, hobos, beggars, derelicts, which was nearer the truth, but still didn’t cover the subject.  That place between the river and library is a hobo jungle minus a railroad track.  But I don’t think the people living that life can qualify by any stereotype.  For instance, my long-time-ago post about Stephen Schumpert, a guy I grew up with:

Could you choose to live on the street?

 If the cats all croaked on me I think I might like to try that for a while to flesh out my life experience while I still have some.

Anyway, I was thinking about all this as I drove home when I blew out a tire on the RV…. another inside-rear.  Sounded a lot like a shotgun when it went.  After examining it I decided to nurse it home instead of trying to change it on the road. 

The cost of a new tire’s going to set me back about a month in my best laid plans, and trying to get the RV off  the ground high enough to change it’s going to be a day spent in hard labor.  Haven’t decided whether  to try to nurse it back to Kerrville and let one of the working-for-a-living serfs and peasants at the WalMart or Discount Tire do the work.

Maybe instead of ‘the homeless’ a better word to describe the colony of people down between the library and the river would be, ‘the blown tires’.

I sort of like that.

Old Jules

The Smallpox People Project

The Whale and Dolphin People Project got me talking it over with the topcat around here.

http://thewhaleanddolphinpeopleproject.org/

Me:  So, Hydrox, what’s your thinking on this thing of trying to save dolphins and whales by making people of them?

HydroxDoes it concern you at all that if dolphins and whales began behaving like humans there wouldn’t be room in the oceans for any other species?

Me:  Hell Hydrox.  You know better than that.  They’d starve.

Hydrox:  Think about it a minute now.  Try the perspective of a domestic cat.  Back earlier than I can recall you cut my chorizos off so’s I wouldn’t be a part of what human beings think of as a cat-over population-problem.  Same with the rest of that litter.  When you protected all those chickens, both back in Y2K, and later here, killing coons, coyotes, skunks, you got an over-population problem.  Meanwhile you humans, during my own feline lifetime, have possibly doubled your population.  Does that tell you anything?

Me:  I think I see where you’re going with this.  What you aren’t taking into account is that we value human life.  We don’t believe in going around cutting the nuts off human beings and clipping the whatchallits of our females.  We rely on disease, war, hunger and other natural causes to keep our population down.

Hydrox:  Does it occur to you that the natural forces aren’t doing the job?  That the reason dolphins and whales need to be made into people so you can’t kill them legally might be going backward into the problem instead of approaching it head-on?  For instance, if you really want to save those whales protecting them from humans by calling them humans would be a lot less likely to actually save them than calling Bubonic, Ebola, Cholera and whatever other disease you can invent ‘people’ and protecting them.  Get rid of all those damned shots and pills and the whales will do fine just being whales. 

Me:  You’re saying …. hmm.  You’re saying make diseases PEOPLE?

Hydrox:  Actually I’m not.  If you change the wording around a bit you’ll see what I’m saying about what’s a disease.  Heck, if you could just find a disease that would kill off heart surgeons and fast food workers you could take care of a huge part of the problems of dolphins and whales through starvation and heart failures.  Whale and dolphin people my ass!  Tell those folks they’re human, convince them of it, and they’ll be beaching themselves into extinction!  Maybe that’s already what’s causing them to beach themselves to death.  Someone told them they’re people and they believed it. 

Me:  Seems to me we’ve got a failure here somewhere, to communicate.

Old Jules

Have Spacesuit Will Travel – Robert A. Heinlein

Came across this book in a thrift store in Kerrville recently and couldn’t resist it because they were having a dime-a-book sale.  As nearly as I can recall it was maybe the 3rd, or 4th science fiction book I read when I discovered the genre in the Portales Junior High School Library around 1958 or ’59. 

I’d qualify it as ‘middling’, probably nowadays young adult, Horatio Algeresque, and a nice evening read if a man has three cats interrupting to punctuate things.  Those times were full of first in orbit Sputink Explorer Cape Canavaral fizzles and it’s clear Heinlein, along with almost everyone else in the US, suddenly realized what an ignorant, poorly educated society we were becoming already.  Spends a considerable while early in the book with a father discussing the shortcomings of the education the young main character was getting for himself and how he, the kid, was going to have to take responsibility for changing that.  Assuming the kid wants it changed for the eventual outcome of his goal to go to the moon.

But there’s also a lot of other social commentary about responsibility, goals, paternalism, and finding a place outside the ‘normal’ shortcomings and flaws of humankind.  Surprising lot of insight as to where science and engineering were going to go, though it naturally overlooked the prospect of the field being increasingly dominated by Asians.  Even though RAH saw the social and educational conditions in the US that led in that direction, in those days nobody’d noticed whatever it was in Asia that would bring it to fruition.

All in all I doubt it would appeal much to the readership of today.  But most would never find it anyway.

Old Jules

Gloobal cooling terror

Good morning readers.

Thanks for coming by for a read this morning. Temps dropped unseasonably a couple of days ago and had enough intermittent rainfall to get the neighbor out burning all the trees he’d knocked down and piled up since the last one. 

I’d been fooling around with one of the longtime experiments of the Burt Lancaster/Kate Hepburn in the Rainmaker movie, so naturally I accepted that I’d made it all happened without having to argue with logic, the Universe, or modern science about the matter.

But the overwhelmingly satisfying result of it all was the cats moving indoors.  They’re not big on rain, not big on gloobal warming.  Naturally a twist to gloobal cooling was to their liking.  Tabby slept purring occasionally with her nose in my armpit last night, which is a major step in the right direction, both in matters of laundryism, and matters of Tabby coming back into the tribe.

If the mud’s not too bad I’ll be tripping to town for groceries today and might actually squeeze in another laundry trip.  Heck, if it works and I load the tank with water before I come back I might have three cats arguing for the armpit position.  Have to grow another arm for the duration of the gloobal cooling crisis.

Old Jules

I’d love to have this guy for a neighbor

Good morning readers. Thanks for coming bvy for a read this morning.

I don’t have anything much to report, other than cat news, weather news, and various skeletons beating on the doors of the closets of my past life.  All of which are causes for unsettling consternation on my own part, but better left hanging out to dry until the moisture’s dripped out of them enough to allow me to make emotional sense of them.

So I’m going to introduce you to someone you mightn’t have encountered, might feel, as I do, you’d like to have him for a neighbor.  My personal experience with neighbors is that they’re mostly uninterested in anything I might have to say, except as it serves as a lead-in for something they wish to say.  Fred doesn’t appear to be much different in that respect.  You won’t get to say anything much back to him, which is typical of neighbors.

However, Fred differs, in that what he says is always interesting, thought provoking, almost never venal.  He doesn’t need anything I might say to lead in directions I find mind expanding and challenging.  Never inane and never boring:

Fred On Everything —
Scurrilous Commentary by Fred Reed
http://www.fredoneverything.net/MakingSense.shtml

Making SenseA Guide to Our Times July 8, 2013
For reasons of voume and poor vision I cannot answer much of my email. I know that it is offensive to write and not get a response, but I can’t help it. My apologies.

In 1950 America was conservative, prosperous and, superficially anyway, happy. The war had been won. America had no competition of any kind anywhere. Calm prevailed. The races lived separately with little conflict. Men went to work and women stayed home to raise the kids. The schools saw their job as teaching reading, grammar, spelling, and arithmetic.

Divorce was almost unheard of, bastardy—as it could then be called—close to zero. Drugs, pornography, free love and perversion—as homosexuality was then said to be—were at most distant rumors. Perhaps they could be found in Paris and New York, where such exotics as William Burroughs and Henry Miller abode. These things were mere frissons around the edges.

But change came. Women wearied of substantially empty lives in the suburbs, making peanut butter sandwiches and perhaps secretly drinking themselves silly. They wanted to be lawyers and biologists. It made sense. No moral or legal principle prevented it. Men didn’t want to be Little League slaves, so why should women? The country could use their intelligence. Anyway, it was their business.

So women went wholesale into the workforce. Which meant wholesale out of the home. Thus the latchkeys came into being, unsupervised and wondering whether their parents cared.

Next it was thought desirable to make divorce easier. It was better for all concerned, the thinking ran, to end the union of miserably unhappy couples than to leave them to stew. It made sense. Who wanted to be forever unhappy? Before long, the rate of divorce hit fifty percent.

Pornography became acceptable. It made sense. There was the First Amendment. Besides, what right did a bunch of shriveled prudes in Boston or anywhere else have to tell me that I could not read Tropic of Cancer or The Naked Lunch or The Canterbury Tales? It was a matter of personal conscience. Soon you could see photos on the web of bleeding genitals pierced with fish hooks.

Next it was said that segregation amounted to South African apartheid, which it did, and that it inflicted grave disadvantages on blacks, which it did, and gave America a bad reputation in the world, which it did. So the Supreme Court ended segregation. It made sense. There followed racial hostility and endless problems as the races proved immiscible.

Sexual cohabitation came. Urbanization made it less conspicuous. The Pill made it safe. What was wrong with it? Surely a matter of personal conscience, it was better than leaping into an ill-advised marriage. It made sense. With college and graduate school delaying marriage, living together provided a needed sexual outlet.

Next the divorce courts took cognizance of the propensity of men, who were perverted, brutal, and unconcerned about their children, to wreak havoc if granted custody following the divorce. They had to be controlled. It made sense. Who wanted to sentence kids to that? The description of fathers was credible since it was attested by Lesbian feminists with no interest in either children or men. This ensured objectivity. Soon countless children were growing up without fathers in the care of mothers who couldn’t control them.

Bastardy came, being quickly softened to “illegitimacy.” The perky phrase “single mom” came into style in for whites and “love child” for blacks. It was said, reasonably enough, that nobody had the right to tell women when they could and could not reproduce. It made sense. Anyway, it was a matter of personal conscience. Soon the bastardy rate hit thirty percent among whites and close to eighty among blacks.

Homosexuality then changed from being a perversion to being an orientation, and gays, as they came to be called, came out of the closet. It made sense. Anal sex like any other kind was a question of personal conscience. What business did the government have in the bedroom? Gays were harmless and productive. If Lesbians tended to be disagreeable, they would be as much so in as out of the closet.

What with porn, the celebration of homosexuality, the pill, and relaxation of censorship, society became sexualized to a degree unimaginable in 1950. Scenes of copulation became common in film. But what was wrong with this? Sex, God knows, is natural. Everyone is interested in it. Who wants to live in a prissy atmosphere of Victorian repression? Soon middle-school girls were giving blow jobs to their boyfriends.

Homosexual marriage came. It made sense. Surely people of the same sex can love each other, and what business does society have in telling people who they can marry? It is a matter of personal conscience.

One might ask with an eye to the future, why not polygamy? It makes sense. The same arguments apply as well to it as to homosexual marriage, a point which has not been raised because there are more gays than Mormons. Polygamy is not a perversion, and has a long history in Christianity. Consider the wives of Solomon. Legalizing it makes sense.

Anyway, the schools became feminized, taught by mental dregs since all the smart women were now lawyers and biochemists. Having little interest in learning—the dull never do—they focused on inculcating Appropriate Thought and on turning little boys into little girls. In its way it made sense. Who wanted young Bobby to learn violence from dodge ball and grow up as a rapist and wife-beater?

Drugs? Almost unheard of in 1950, they came to be accepted by all regions of society. Soft drugs, such as grass and Prozac, flowed freely in respectable society. Acid was great fun. Why shouldn’t people use these reality-enhancers if they chose? It made sense. They did less harm than alcohol and tobacco, which were legal. Soon middle-school kids were selling crystal meth.

As it turned out, there were minor downsides to these sensible policies, but nothing serious. Our children are unattended drug-ridden mall rats, often divorce wreckage, our daughters sexually used at thirteen and growing up hating men, our sons drugged by their teachers and shaped into unhappy transgendered puzzloids. Men avoid marriage because of vindictive feminist courts, the young avoid marriage because of assured divorce. The schools and universities have been enstupidated to hide the failures of particular groups and genders, merit has been superseded by group identity, and here come the Chinese.

But it makes sense.