All the Secrets of the Universe and Some Really Important Stuff Too!
The Romans read the future in the entrails of birds and other sacrificial animals. Well I’ll base my augury on the outer surface of one particular twenty five pound bird.
Other signs are equally favorable
I predict a successful encounter with the forces of gluttony.
So, we’re hosting most of the family this year. Camera Girl has outdone herself with five different pies and a twenty-five-pound turkey. I predict that by the end of the feast I’ll be almost immobile. But I’ll try to keep the grandkids amused with various holiday traditions. At some point I will break out the “March of the Wooden Soldiers” and maybe “Gulliver’s Travels.” Of course, both of these are 1930s vintage versions.
Hopefully we’ll head down to the first floor to play some pool and later on will come the pie and ice cream and coffee and some penny ante poker. And I’ll ask my grandsons what’s going on at school and what’s happening around town. I’m sure I’ll be brought up to date on whatever Pokémon acquisitions the youngest one has negotiated. I’ve never really figured out what Pokémon actually is. I assume it’s similar in intent to how we collected baseball cards as kids. All I know is that there are thousands of different cards and some are “worth” thousands of dollars. But to whom?
We’ve had our first dusting of snow. It changed into rain in the morning and I went out with the shovel and cleared the slop off of the driveway. And that’s necessary. It freezes at night now and that slushy mess would have turned my driveways into skating rinks by tomorrow morning and that is something I don’t need on Thanksgiving. So, we’ve broken the ice, so to speak, and have now transitioned into winter. Of course, I’m way behind on my yard work. And this makes it worse. But it’s Thanksgiving so I’ve absolved myself of all blame and won’t think about it until Monday (or Tuesday).
It’s interesting. Two recent international elections seem to be indicating a deep dissatisfaction with the Left’s incompetent economic and social programs. Maybe 2024 will be more than just an American protest year. Maybe the genie is out of the bottle and a whole lot of people are fed up with dysfunctional, incompetent, delusional Leftist ideas in general. If it is we’ll see much more in the way of signs in the coming months.
Biden’s minions keep popping up in the Times and the Post announcing how the economy is turning a corner and how wonderful everything is becoming. The latest hype is that inflation is reversing and now they have to be careful not to cause deflation. The delusional nature of this nonsense is absurd. It flies in the face of everyone’s knowledge of the cost of commodities in the recent past. Everyone who has to run a household knows that everything is now vastly more expensive. Things like cold-cuts have now become prohibitively expensive for many families. Even staples like bread and vegetables have to be purchased with an eye out for sales. But the Biden evangelists keep up the happy talk hoping that the stupid will buy into the lie. As jaded as I’ve become with fraudulent elections, I’m still curious to see if a point might be reached where even the people faking the elections might think it was in their interest to get the Democrats out of power, if only out of fear that the economy might completely collapse under the weight of complete incompetence.
Well, for one day we won’t worry about the cost of food. There are going to be pumpkin, apple, coconut custard, sweet potato and chocolate pudding pies with whipped cream and ice cream and who knows what other desserts. There’s going to be turkey and sausage stuffing and mashed potatoes and gravy. And another whole list of side dishes that I can’t even remember, but I know there will be candied yams and two kinds of buttered rolls. So, I have a lot to be thankful for. I hope your holiday goes well and I will check in from time to time.
It is at this most festive time of the rolling year that I find portion control at the dining room table most challenging. This morning Camera Girl is making apple, pumpkin and coconut custard pies for the Thanksgiving Day feast. And so, I find myself standing over her shoulder watching the process with the sense of ownership and the pride that entails. I asked her if she’d ever heard the term trad-wife and she responded with a scowl that I could almost feel in my own face. She shook her head and told me to get the hell out of the kitchen until the pies were out of the oven. I think she feared that my comments would have an unhealthy effect on the flavor of her desserts. Not wishing to cause her undue stress at this very delicate point in the holiday preparations I forbore to grant her somewhat rude request and left with incredible dignity and obvious grace. Noblesse oblige you know.
It’s interesting to note that the rapid degeneration of female culture now forces the invention of a new label for what used to be the normal skill set of an adult married woman. Well, maybe rapid is just my perspective as an old guy. What I think of as normal has been under attack since the 1960’s. And now their granddaughters wouldn’t know a rolling pin from a road flare. And so, we’ve reached a stage where a “trad-wife” has become a commodity so valuable that to quote the Bible:
“Proverbs 31:10-31
King James Version
10 Who can find a virtuous woman? for her price is far above rubies.
11 The heart of her husband doth safely trust in her, so that he shall have no need of spoil.
12 She will do him good and not evil all the days of her life.
13 She seeketh wool, and flax, and worketh willingly with her hands.
14 She is like the merchants’ ships; she bringeth her food from afar.
15 She riseth also while it is yet night, and giveth meat to her household, and a portion to her maidens.
16 She considereth a field, and buyeth it: with the fruit of her hands she planteth a vineyard.
17 She girdeth her loins with strength, and strengtheneth her arms.
18 She perceiveth that her merchandise is good: her candle goeth not out by night.
19 She layeth her hands to the spindle, and her hands hold the distaff.
20 She stretcheth out her hand to the poor; yea, she reacheth forth her hands to the needy.
21 She is not afraid of the snow for her household: for all her household are clothed with scarlet.
22 She maketh herself coverings of tapestry; her clothing is silk and purple.
23 Her husband is known in the gates, when he sitteth among the elders of the land.
24 She maketh fine linen, and selleth it; and delivereth girdles unto the merchant.
25 Strength and honour are her clothing; and she shall rejoice in time to come.
26 She openeth her mouth with wisdom; and in her tongue is the law of kindness.
27 She looketh well to the ways of her household, and eateth not the bread of idleness.
28 Her children arise up, and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praiseth her.
29 Many daughters have done virtuously, but thou excellest them all.
30 Favour is deceitful, and beauty is vain: but a woman that feareth the Lord, she shall be praised.
31 Give her of the fruit of her hands; and let her own works praise her in the gates.”
To be fair, I’ve never seen her producing any tapestries or linen. And I’m pretty sure she doesn’t even know what a distaff is. But she did sew the seam on the change pocket in my jeans last week so maybe that’s close to rubies or at least emeralds, I think. And she does get up really early to walk the dogs. As far as sitting with the elders, I was hanging out with the duffers at the Grange during the election meeting and some of them recognized me so I’ll give her that. But I definitely don’t think that part about, “She openeth her mouth with wisdom; and in her tongue is the law of kindness” is way off. I think the law of sarcasm is closer to the actual situation.
But she has transferred some of these skills like cooking and household economy to her daughters so that’s very praiseworthy but honestly, I don’t think either I or my daughters have used the term “blessed” for Camera Girl. Annoying is the term that trips off my tongue because she accompanies all her accomplishments with a decidedly critical eye for comparison with my own efforts.
And in this she is obviously very unfair. I may not cook the feast but I often carry the grocery bags from the car to the kitchen. Surely the Bible has something good to say for the husband who does stuff. So, what am I wood? Maybe rubies aren’t the correct and gender specific analogy of my value. How about austenitic stainless steel or even Hastelloy 276 or some other corrosion resistant metal. Maybe even platinum! That’s even better than boring rubies. You’d think God being a man would have given us a few choice proverbs of our own to put these women in their place. Am I wrong? But I digress.
So, despite the annoyingness of the traditional wife, it is undeniable that she is the foundation of the family and of all functional human existence. Without a doubt the destruction of our society has been programmed with the elimination of good women and their replacement by career women defined by their barrenness, lack of domestic instincts and their proclivity for collecting cats. Without a doubt the males of this generation also bear a heavy responsibility for the current degeneracy of our culture. But I’ll save that for a different rant.
Today I’ll just end with praise for Camera Girl. Well done Camera Girl. And save that little extra portion of coconut custard pie for the two o’clock coffee bread today. I feel I need it.
My late wife never voted. She said they were all corrupt and voting was about the same as choosing which buzzard is going to dine on your carcass.
She did her politics through volunteerism. At the local hospital, making cookies for on-duty deputies, firefighters and EMT/rescue crews. Her oatmeal raisin cookies were notorious. She plumped the raisins in red or white wine depending on which raisin she used. She cooked and served at the local soup kitchen. I often donated venison as I always filled my limit. It served more than soup but my wife’s ham and mixed bean soup was always a big hit. And her cornbread (scratch, not a mix) was beloved by southern transplants. She got me to go down around Mardi Gras and make jambalaya, shrimp etoufee, gumbo, and red beans and rice.
The powers that be are working to reshape the world. It will no longer be an old-fashioned analog model where people can find their own place in the world and cobble together a life that suits their individual talents and preferences. No, this new model is a quantized arrangement. There are only a few allowable choices for profession, school, sexuality, race, religion, and only one choice for political party and belief system. And that’s only the start. Soon there will only be one kind of car, one kind of heating system and one kind of bathroom and kitchen. And the power company will tell you if you’ve used too much power for your car or the air conditioner (if they even allow A/C to exist anymore). And the city will tell you if you’ve taken too long a shower or flushed the toilet too many times.
But where it really gets tricky is if you aren’t from the right family and didn’t go to the right college but you still want to have a normal life. You know, like having a wife and kids. Well, that’s sort of a problem. Because they don’t want just anybody having kids. You’ve got to have the right pedigree and the right mindset. Kids are expensive and it takes a village to raise them so unless you’re the kind of person the village approves of, you’ll just be messing up the orderliness of the hive. So, the mechanism they’ll use is to make it almost impossible to be able to afford kids unless you’re the right kind of person.
It’ll cost a fortune to buy a house and it’ll cost a fortune to send them to good schools and even feeding and clothing them, unless you’re an illegal immigrant, will cost an arm and a leg. So, many people, especially young men are just giving up. It’s just not worth the effort.
Well, the alternative is family helping out with providing a place to live until a house is affordable and providing resources for a down payment and maybe foregoing luxuries like vacation homes and expensive toys to provide help with medical expenses and other incidentals that are bound to come along. And also providing advice and contacts for the young.
And in the past, I’ve kidded about opening up my own match-making business but I think it’s a real need that exists. Women especially could get involved by finding eligible girls who wants to get married and have kids. Sure, I know there are all kinds of dating services and maybe some of them are selective enough to help serious, normal men and women find mates. But relatives and friends are still a valuable source for finding a man or woman for someone looking to start a family.
It may seem like this whole thing is a silly topic. But I think it’s serious enough to think about. There is a great contraction already in the works. If you want your family to survive it then you’re going to have to provide some extra help to make it work. Now, some people probably don’t care. A cheap apartment, a streaming service and a small government check will keep things going until your health gives out and then there’s euthanasia so what’s all the fuss? The path of least resistance is the preferred route for some of the young. The government is just making the choice easier.
But for those of us who want a future that includes a fulfilling human life for our descendants then it’s time to take a hand in what happens to your kids and their kids. Lend a hand. Or go extinct.
Driving from a rural area toward a megalopolis is almost always a frustrating experience. The closer you get to the heart of darkness, the worse the traffic becomes and the more likely it is that you will accidentally cross the event horizon and be sucked in, never to break free of the bumper-to-bumper traffic of the black hole collapse. Or so it seems to me.
By comparison driving in the reverse direction, away from the beast, feels like a continuously increasing sense of relief as the road and the entrances become less and less congested and the craziest of the homicidal drivers are left behind or at least no longer have the traffic density needed to ensure maximum mayhem.
Now all of that was true yesterday as I arrived and departed from the party that I travelled to. But despite the tension of defying the human density gradient around the suburbs of Gotham City I was sorry that the party couldn’t have been extended indefinitely.
Everything about the gathering was congenial. It was almost the entire family. And that’s no mean feat. We are many and we are scattered much more than in the past. And Sunday is a tough day for travelling. Saturday being the optimal day to allow for recovery before work resumes.
And everyone there was splendidly sociable. The talk was the usual mixture of family events, politics, current events and reminiscing about crazier things and planning for crazier things. And I learned things that I had never known about people I know very well. And I saw what the youngest generation is starting to look like when they socialize. And despite all the dire warnings and predictions they seemed quite healthy and normal.
Of course, food is always a highly important component of one of these shindigs and the hostess was extremely wise in her choices and provisioning. There were several completely different themes with respect to the menu and there was never any danger of running out of the favorites which is always comforting. I will admit that I no longer make the impact on the buffet table that I used to. And that is necessary. I wouldn’t have survived my former exploits as a trencherman. But I still grazed high and low and tried a bit of everything. Wonderful.
But the highlight is when the old bulls stagger into a corner, collapse into a circle of chairs and start pontificating about what’s wrong with the world and what we should do about it. And eventually we come to agreement that things are going to go to hell no matter what we say or do and then we come to agreement that at least the world has us in it to make it a world worth living in. Now this was what I remember when the old bulls were my father’s and my grandfather’s generations laying down the law and telling us what was wrong with my generation. And now, heaven help me, I’m at my grandfather’s age and making my last speeches before shuffling off the stage permanently. What a strange thing time is.
And just in time the cake and coffee are served and we lapse into a warm glow of caffeine and pastry ingredients. And all too soon it’s time to go. We need to leave before it’s too late to make the drive back. But of course, there is at least a half hour of goodbyes, to each and every one. Back slapping and hugs and hand shakes for one and all and then last-minute details remembered and plans for the next gathering. And then we’re on the road and headed home. But the glow from the party is still with us. We talk about what we’ve heard and seen. We talk about those who couldn’t make it and those who are gone. But it’s all a happy feeling. A good feeling.
The country and the world have gone straight to hell. There’s no denying it. But good things still exist. And the best of those things is family, is the humanness of family. The ties that bind and the hope for a future and the precious, priceless treasure of the young in our midst.
The world is not all ruin and depravity. There is hope. And I can see it when we get together.
This life that each of us pursues is a mystery. It entails a complicated relationship with many facets of our reality. Each of us interacts with the natural world and the human world. And the human world divides up into our interaction with people in a continuum that stretches from the totality of all human life; past, present and future; to every smaller circle of nation, state, city, town, neighborhood, right down to our family and finally to our relationship to our own human self; our own body, which then loops around back to the natural world.
And as much as each one of us is an individual and therefore unique, we want different things. Some of us seek fame and others wealth. Some pursue knowledge and some desire pleasure. But because being human can no longer be a solitary endeavor, whatever we want to do with our lives, we have to do it in the context of our interaction with human society. “No man is an island.” So, we achieve what we do through our actions as part of human society. And therefore, the kind of society we live in dictates the range of success that each of us and all of us can possibly achieve.
And that was the glory of the United States in its earlier days. The range of outcomes available to almost anyone living in this place was remarkable. The practically limitless natural resources, the constantly expanding technological advances and the personal freedom afforded by the United States’ Constitution combined to create an incredibly dynamic and successful society that transformed the world in its wake.
But now the obscenely wealthy and powerful have decided the party’s over. There’s not enough to go round, at least not for the middle. The elite will still jet over to Davos and utilize whatever luxuries technology has to offer. And whichever toadies they need to organize their lives and whichever pets they adopt from the third world will be included within their charmed circle. But not the rest of us. The elite has decided that it is in their best interests to get rid of us altogether.
The future has been cancelled. No jobs, no homes, no families, no kids. Not even the consolation prizes like a car ride in the country or a barbecue on the grill. Instead, you have to settle for getting mugged somewhere in your fifteen-minute city while going out to buy your cricket taco. You’ll own nothing and “like it.” Forget about having a family, you won’t even be human. As a child your teachers will groom you to be neutered and then experimented on to resemble something different.
And even the negative freedoms are being removed. The freedom from fear is one of the big ones. Turning the cities into anarchic kill zones is a big part of that. The police have been handcuffed and prosecutors and judges have been appointed to protect career criminals from the punishments for their crimes. And just to make sure that normal people don’t attempt to protect themselves from this death trap, those same prosecutors and judges go out of their way to prosecute anyone who tries.
Then what’s left? Everything good in life has been removed until finally death by fentanyl will appear to be the best option available.
It’s a brilliant plan. If you control all the levers of power and even the social and educational apparatus you can distort human behavior until it fulfills your dictates. Human freedom, at least outside of their circle, does not fulfill these dictates. So, it must be eliminated. And it has to a great degree.
Pretty grim picture. But only by comparison to what we had before. Only because our expectations and our assumptions about the world around us, about this society, are misinformed. There are still opportunities and resources all around us in vast quantities. What is needed to unlock them is the correct mindset with respect to the obstacles and traps. Know your enemies. Avoid the pitfalls. Identify allies and resources and form communities that strengthen those that you identify as friends. And wherever possible work to undermine the wealth and well-being of your enemies. And most importantly of all, protect your children from all aspects of this war against us. Protect them from the lies and tell them the truth.
We can thrive in this new environment. All we need to do is adjust. The truth shall set you free. Wake up to the truth.
Six hours of Godzilla movies, some lime ices, two hours of swimming, a couple of pounds of spaghetti and meatballs, an apple pie and a quart of vanilla ice cream. Apparently, that equals the optimal day when you’re a seven-year-old boy. At least in one case. Now I’m not seven. And when I was seven, I’m guessing I would have preferred six hours of Universal Classic Monster Movies and maybe I’d have gone with blueberry pie in that line up. But I definitely remember most of the vibe in that set of choices.
And so, I set up the itinerary exactly as specified by my guest. And it was swell. Now don’t get me wrong. I would have preferred six fewer hours of Godzilla and maybe a ribeye steak would have been higher up on my list than spaghetti today for instance but bonding with the grandkids is an item very close to the top item on my list of priorities. And because when you have several grandsons and they all differ in their preferences about everything including activities, foods, desserts and movies it sort of behooves you to divide and conquer. So, I’ve instituted a separate day for each of them to spend the day with me and Camera Girl. And on that day, they get to pick the activities, entertainment, food and desserts. And they even get to decide when it’s over.
And it works. Without his brothers or parents there, each kid gets to call the shots and be the king. No one tells him to eat his vegetables or finish everything on his plate. No one says six hours of bad movies is too much or says to get out of the pool because we have to pick somebody up from something or other. And he even gets the chance to discuss with a supposed grown man whether Godzilla would beat King Kong or T. Rex or Indominus Rex or the Mosasaurus and why and under what circumstance. And how Godzilla can have radioactive fire but somehow it doesn’t kill King Kong. And he has to do it with a straight face.
And he can even eat his dinner while watching tv on the couch and not have to do any chores all day and go home as late as he wants.
But it’s also a good deal for me. I can sort of remember caring about, “Who would win?”. Sure, maybe it wasn’t Godzilla. Maybe it was a Roman legion versus Alexander’s Macedonian phalanx. Or Superman versus Thor. Or whatever ridiculous thing I imagined that day. But the point is I sort of recall the feeling. Some very old neurons fire off a few synapses that I haven’t used in sixty years or so and it’s fascinating. I almost remember being that age. I almost remember the feelings. And it’s pretty great.
I’m working this program youngest to oldest. So, as we move up the line things should get more and more familiar. Or will they? Is nineteen any closer to who I am than seven? I don’t know. Each page in the book of life is an island. A snapshot. All of them are long ago. But I expect to enjoy each chance to delve into their present and my past at the same time.
And ultimately, I’m trying to build a little immortality. I still remember the times my grandfather came to visit me as I was growing up. He understood that public relations with your descendants was terribly important. So, he did it right. He brought us out for the biggest, greasiest triple cheeseburgers at Wesson’s and he always had chewing gum when he came over and he always took us for a drive to the most beat up neighborhoods in NYC where he knew the most bizarre characters like a jeweler that he worked for as an armed guard. And he always had stories about his times as a cop or when he was the mayor’s bodyguard or a private detective. Or when he shot it out with armed robbers from the running board of a commandeered taxi.
And because he spent the time with us, in a sense, he’s still alive even forty some-odd years after his death. And if I tell his stories to my grandkids then maybe he lives another hundred years. So that’s my game. I’m working on my immortality. And I’m paying forward things that were given to me long ago. What’s more valuable than that?
Matt Walsh got into an argument with some randos that wanted to make the point that being a parent was hard work and totally a bad deal. Well they long ago have blocked the thread from their side. Walsh has made some good points about the value of being a parent and many people have reinforced his statements with equally mature and measured opinions. I think it’s true that some people shouldn’t be parents. But I base that on the well-being of the children who end up with immature and selfish parents. That is a sin.
I understand feeling overwhelmed, stressed, etc. I have six kids. It’s not like I have some idealized, naive vision of parenthood. But all great things in life can also overwhelm and stress you out. It’s the price of admission. No sense whining about it.
— Matt Walsh (@MattWalshBlog) July 14, 2023
The transgender attack on sanity may possibly be the straw that breaks the camel’s back. There are some encouraging signs that people are thoroughly fed up. What’s happening with Bud Light and Target, but especially Bud Light seems to indicate that people may have finally reached the breaking point and are unwilling to just accept another extension of the madness, this time including perpetrating horrible medical practices on children in the name of trans-health.
The boycott of Bud Light is an ongoing and actually strengthening phenomenon. 30% of the sales of this formerly popular beer have disappeared and don’t appear to be returning. By siding with the TikTok “influencer” Dylan Mulvaney a so-called trans-woman they alienated a sizable chunk of their customer base and pointed to an effective way for normal people to push back against corporate support for ideologies and causes that threaten children.
Now the question remains whether the action will have an effect on Bud Light’s parent company Anheuser-Busch. Will it alter their policies or not. And then there is the larger question, will this action provide a spark that ignites a larger action to push back at the whole LGBTQ agenda.
So far there have been a slew of laws passed in red states against transitioning children and other practices that drag children into the LGBTQ world. Governor Ron DeSantis has been very prominent in this legislative movement. And federal judges have moved to block these laws. Eventually the Supreme Court will have to step in and that will be one of the first places where we will see how effective the revolt against the trans-madness will be.
And Donald Trump has taken a first step to nationalize this movement by vowing to get legislation banning medical procedures; puberty blockers and surgeries; that “transition” minors. And this being the beginning of the presidential election season it’s possible that the transgender issue might become the focus issue for the whole election.
Or it might not. And that’s the crux of this essay. When a society no longer protects its children from madness; when in fact, the medical community itself is the source of the threat to children, then that society is doomed. If the population of the United States fails to rally successfully against the forces that threaten to harvest its children as fodder for medical experimentation, then there is absolutely no hope of that society surviving. It will dissolve into an atomized mob of lunatics stumbling along toward the grave. And it will deserve it.
So, I’m extremely interested in what goes on during 2023-2024. I’m convinced that if a successful national or at least local resistance to the transgender agenda doesn’t emerge then we are finished as a society. As I said, if defense of children is no longer a strong enough reflex to rally a people, then that people is as good as dead already.
Alternatively, if there is a successful movement to reject the sexualization of children then I think that something can still be done to save the larger society we live in. I’ve more or less written off the American project. I’ve concentrated my efforts on finding work arounds for surviving in a degraded America. I contend that families that decide to remain in the United States have to take actions to protect their children against the public school system in particular and from the federal government’s influence in general.
But if a larger movement awakens around protecting children from these harmful government influences, then I might be convinced that all hope isn’t lost for this country. So, this is a test case. Let’s see if America passes or fails.