Making Leftists Radical: Compassion, Internet Cats, and Feminists With No Sense of Humor

“It’s mercy, compassion, and forgiveness I lack.  Not rationality.” – Kill Bill, Volume 1

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That’s awake, not “woke.”

Here’s a fable:

There was a little girl going to school in Japan.  Near her place in the classroom there was a cocoon that the teacher had brought in to illustrate the life cycle of the butterfly, and it was hanging right next to her every day.  For a whole week, nothing had happened, but then she noticed the cocoon shaking.  She could see that the caterpillar had completed its transformation. 

What bothered the girl so very much was that the butterfly was struggling to get out of the cocoon.  Finally, exhausting all of the patience that a seven year old has, she helped the butterfly by ever so gently tearing open the cocoon so it could get free.

To her surprise, rather than flying, the butterfly fell out of the cocoon and onto the floor of the school room.  She gasped.

The teacher walked over and looked at the butterfly helplessly writhing on the floor.  It was clear the butterfly would never be able to fly.

“Did you help the butterfly out of the cocoon?”

The little girl, through eyes that were filling with tears, nodded.

The teacher explained, “It is only through struggling to get out of the cocoon that the butterfly gets enough strength to fly.”

This is one of my favorite stories.  I can’t recall where I originally heard or read it.

I’d often tell that story to people that reported to me when they were facing a particularly difficult time at work.  I’m sure it just made some of them mad – they wanted me to solve their problems.  I refused, perhaps giving them hints on places they should look to find the answer.

One of my goals was to get the work done for the company, sure.  But I also wanted to take the time to get the person developed – for me that was a moral imperative.  My biggest goal was that everyone who reported to me became a more capable person – and I knew that didn’t happen without the struggle.  Oh sure, I could have told Ted where the fire extinguisher was, but that would have deprived him of the struggle to find it.  And one of his eyebrows finally did grow back.

That’s how I mostly have used the story, to show the importance of struggle.  But there’s another and perhaps more central moral to this story:

misplaced compassion kills.

The Mrs. recently found an article that really, for me, answered the question about why the Left is turning so radical, so quickly.  The article is by Zach Goldberg, and you can find it here (LINK), although he takes the data in a different direction than I do for his article.  Goldberg has an interesting Twitter® feed (LINK) as well.  The graphs in this post are mostly from either the article or his Twitter© feed.

It’s always nice when ¡Science!® is able to provide an insight on the problems of the world.  I started with the story about compassion.  When psychologists do studies of Leftists, they find that Leftists score higher in compassion than the norm – a lot higher.  Well, some Leftists.

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Karl Marx had only a very short career as a clown at children’s parties.  After he was fired, he insisted that true children’s parties had never been tried.

Does that mean that people on the Right don’t care?  Not at all.  The data shows that people on the Right give more to charity and also volunteer more hours, so it’s clear that people on the Right care.  But they don’t get all mushy and aren’t dominated by their feelings.

It turns out there are differences as well among Leftists based on race.  One major bias that almost all people from all time have had is in-group preference.  You like your family more than your brother’s family.  You like your cousin better than you like your neighbor.  You like people in your town more than people who live in the next town over – that’s why Friday night high school football games are so big in small towns.

This makes sense at almost every point in history – it’s rare for you to be living in France and think “Wow, that German flag flying the Eiffel Tower is such a neat thing to see.”  In-group bias is normal.  It’s why Americans rooted for team U.S.A. in the Women’s World Cup® even though soccer is a vastly inferior game to tic-tac-toe.

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Thankfully I’ve reached the “Dad’s asleep in the recliner” stage when the Monopoly® board comes out.

White leftists, however, have somehow become biased against . . . white people.  It’s like being born a guy and not liking that you were born a guy . . . oh.  Nevermind.

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As you can see, there is exactly one group that detests itself and prefers other groups. 

But this isn’t the norm.  And this isn’t how the Left has been for years.  Data shows quite nicely that they didn’t used to be this way – as late as 2010, 20% of white Leftists thought that increasing border security was a good idea.  2018?  Less than 5%.

It’s clear the Left has become more radical and the Right has (more or less) remained the same.

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Republicans have stayed pretty steady on the border.  Not so with white liberals.

What happened in 2010?

Twitter® and Facebook©.

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Who would have thought that Leftist extremism starts with Grandma posting cat memes on Facebook®?

The user bases of these social networks took off in 2010.  There is one thing that social networks want – your attention.  They best way to get that attention?  Show you content that creates an emotional response.  Cats and babies are great – they make people laugh and go “aww.”  But to a Leftist, to keep their attention – show them things that create outrage by violating their sense of compassion.

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I hear her next initiative will be to forgive all the Electoral College student loan debt.

The Twitter®, Facebook©, and YouTube™ video suggestion algorithms have become the Democrat® brand.  Social media is a particularly useful programming device.  These algorithms are used every day to pull the Left farther Left.  Why does this impact white Leftists in particular?  They spend more time on social media than the rest of the Left.  But they’re enough – white leftists are about 25% of the electorate.  And they do have money.  And they hate the Right.

Through this lens, the reasons for the bans become clear – even though the algorithm mutes voices on the Right, the most effective voices must be silenced.  Arguments counter to the narrative have to be stopped.  As has recently become quite clear – the Left owns social media and will clear out clear, articulate voices on the Right given any excuse.  The chance is too great that these voices will interfere with the programming.  An example:

Portlandia is funny, and there are more bookstore clips that are even funnier – this was just the most “safe for work” one I could find.

Portlandia was a series on IFC® for 8 seasons.  It mocked (fairly gently) the Leftist culture of Portland.  It’s certain that the stars and most of the writers of the show are of the Left.  But the things that the show made fun of can no longer be made fun of.  Feminism was often the butt of good-natured jokes, but the feminist bookstore that several skits were shot in broke ties with the show after they decided they didn’t want to be made fun of – at all.  What had been funny even to the Left in 2010 was by 2016 unacceptable.  Feminism could no longer be a laughing matter, nor could any other Leftist narrative.

In 2019, Portland has lost its sense of humor and replaced it with outrage.  Antifa regularly assembles a mob of hundreds to shut down any speech it disagrees with through violence.  Their compassion drives them to shed blood, but it doesn’t stop there.  This same compassion compels the Left to want to give every illegal alien free health care, and a quick pathway to citizenship.  In turn, that drives the 144,000 illegals to want to come here – and that was just in June of 2019.  That’s a 10,000 person Caravan every other day.

All of this is caused by misplaced compassion, programmed by social media via algorithms.  Certainly it’s all a coincidence, right?  It’s not like large corporations owned and run by Leftists would have a political motive, right?

Wilder Travels, From Girdwood to Whittier

“What’s that? Crying? There’s no crying in baseball driving to Anchorage.” A League of Their Own

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So, after traveling hours and hours and hours with an infant (Pugsley), a soon to be five-year-old (The Boy), and a stereotypically male husband, I imagine that The Mrs. wanted to gouge out her eyes with a spoon, because it’s dull, and would hurt more.  But, she got the biggest bonus yet.  She got to continue driving farther south than Anchorage.  I know that most things (including all of the past, current, and future members of Van Halen) are farther south than Anchorage, but Anchorage might as well be Dixie if you live in Fairbanks.

We got to go to Girdwood, Alaska.

Just the name sounds uncomfortable. Gird. Like girth. Gird. Like girdle. Makes me think of William Shatner. Who’da thunk it was a pretty and nice town?

But, we couldn’t see any of that. We got there at about 8:30. After driving through some of the most beautiful scenery imaginable, yet just dark enough that my camera would have produced pictures of what you might think were whales mating in some deep Pacific trench where fish don’t have eyes.

But we got a bonus.

The New Boy decided he was hungry in Anchorage, and the decision was
a. feed him then and there or,
b. push on to the hotel.
The Mrs. made the call: push on. And we lived with a crying baby for the duration of our trip to the hotel.  A crying baby really didn’t stress me out.  I’m a man, and a dad. That gives me a selective deafness that would allow me to sleep through a jet landing on our house, if it came ten minutes before my alarm for work went off.  Crying babies don’t bother me.  The fact that The Mrs. was stressed did.

When The Mrs. ain’t happy, nobody’s happy.  (I counted up the negatives, and I think I got that right).  We got to the hotel, and The New Boy promptly decided that all people around him who were capable of holding a bottle to his mouth were either dead or incapacitated by avian flu, and became quiet as a mouse.

Now, you may be saying – “How dare you not feed a hungry baby? That could be bad or something.”

You haven’t seen this baby.  He’s huge.  Not any fatter than a usual baby – he won’t be featured in a paper anytime, but he gains about a pound a week.  He eats about sixteen quarts of formula a day, and we’re thinking of moving him up to ribeye steak flown in directly from some Japanese farm where they have a string quartet that serenades the cows as they feed them beer and massage them, because that would be cheaper than the baby formula. He gained a pound in a week – 1/18th of his current mass – at four months’ age.  He may be big enough when fully grown to look down on Hulk Hogan.  So, don’t worry ’bout The New Boy.

And, drive the Seward Highway when you can.  Wow.  Pretty, even in dusk.

A buddy of mine suggested that we go and visit the Alyeska Prince Hotel (no relation to Artist Formerly Known as Prince Hotel). The Alyeska Prince Hotel (pictured above, I know it looks like a Stephen King novel hotel, but not a single person tried to disembowel me that night) caters to rich tourists that fought in the Spanish-American War and decided to cruise to Anchorage in the summer.  In the winter, it caters to rich dotcom billionaires who want to go ‘boarding in a state where weed is almost legal.  But in the weeks between 24 hour days and fresh powder, the Alyeska Prince is a bargain.  If you have an Alaska driver’s license, where they give a steep discount.

We got there.  The Mrs. was again demanding that her now-tenuous relationship with the food chain be restored. I found a thriving convenience store in Old Girdwood (which I think most of just slid right into the ocean when the ’64 Earthquake hit) that had sandwiches.  And wine.

I bought some wine because I thought that might cap off a relatively stressful last leg of our trip.  When I got back to the hotel, The Mrs. was working on putting The New Boy to bed.

About the Alyeska Prince: The hotel is nice. Head of State nice. In fact, when I was lurking in the parking lot, several vehicles with Alaska Legislature plates were hogging spaces.  I waited for one state senator to move his ass out of the space so I could shimmy in.  The beds were like sleeping on clouds, and customer service was great, even though I asked for two doubles, and they initially put us in a single king.  I love The Boy, but I’m not going to spend the night with his pointy elbows and knees pointed at me.

The wine was good.  The Mrs. was too exhausted to have any, so, in the interests of economy, I threw myself on her share.  And went blissfully to sleep.  Little did I know that the President of Taiwan was lurking, waiting to disrupt not this post, but probably the next one after this, or maybe the one after that.

Next: To Whittier and Beyond

 

“Remember, attraction is a three-way street. Or is it a one-way tunnel?” – Married, With Children

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Girdwood is a nice, pretty, cozy town.  The picture that I took of the hotel (last post) was taken in the morning.  I also took the picture above. There’s a tram that’s built into the hotel, and a restaurant at the top of the tram.  The idea is that the Alyeska Prince is a place where you can almost go skiing without going outside, except for the sliding down the mountain part.  One day the super wealthy will solve that problem, too.  Maybe have folks ski for them.

If it hadn’t been so overcast with such low clouds, I think I would have popped out the money to scoot up the mountain on the tram.  As it was, I think the view would have resembled being in a bag full of cotton balls.  If you’re wondering how I might know what that looks like, remember, I had an older brother.

So, we headed out of the Alyeska Prince and into Girdwood.  Many of the streets were named after other ski resorts, such as Aspen, Vail, and Davos.  I stopped at a restaurant that appeared fully functional and staffed, and was informed that they were yet to open.  Not a problem – but I’m not waiting a half an hour just to order a burger.  Not with a Hungry Boy and The Mrs. also feeling a bit peckish.  We headed down to the same strip-mall that has the State Patrol, a gas station, and a liquor store and hit the diner there.

Note:  it sounds like The Mrs. is always bugging me about going somewhere to eat.  Not the case.  I pretty much starve the family when we drive.  Also, restaurants are also a good place to make observations about Alaskans, when and where they herd together.  It is the watering hole, where gazelle and lion both fill up before clocking in.

It was The Boy’s birthday – five years, and still he refuses to learn calculus.  We stopped and had perhaps the friendliest waitress we’ve had in years.  She focused on The Boy, and treated him like royalty on his birthday.  It didn’t hurt that her birthday was two days before The Boy’s birthday.  The Boy had a cinnamon roll the size of his head.

The diner was nice – it was the kind of place that tobacco-chewing hunters were in peaceful co-existence with dredlocked euro-eco-tourist types.  The graffiti in the bathroom referenced “The Family Guy,” and the guy exiting the single-stall mens’ room indicated, “You might want to wait a bit before you go in there – wheew-ee, dunno what I ate.”

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The valley that you enter as you head to Portage Lake and Portage Glacier has the steep sides that you’d expect in a land carved by glaciers periodically over geologic-type time scales. What surprised me, however, were the constant waterfalls. They were like veins of silver etching down the sides of the mountains, and they were everywhere. These are fed by the glaciers in the mountains above the valley. They made me think of restrooms.

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It was nearly time to head to Whittier. Driving to Whittier, there’s only one road that leads in. It leads through the Anton Anderson Tunnel, which is the longest tunnel that’s a part of a road in North America. Anton Anderson was the engineer who built the tunnel during WWII, working for the army. This particular tunnel was designed for trains, and is still used by them. I believe it’s owned by the Alaska Railroad, and hence not a publicly owned road.  The nice thing is that I don’t think the railroad police could give a real ticket that you should you violate traffic regulations – maybe you’d just get a railroad ticket.  Then you could use your railroad ticket to go somewhere nice.

The tunnel is one-way, and you pay to drive it, $12 for the round-trip. Cars and trucks are staged and, in best railroad fashion, the road is scheduled – you go east for this hour, west for the next hour. As we entered the tunnel we had no idea what we would see on the other side. In a truly serious note, what we saw could not have been odder.

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Next: Whittier
After that: The President of Taiwan and Me (I think that’s how it will work out).

 

Things to Do in Denver Whittier When You’re Dead

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Whittier, Whittier.

What can you say about Whittier?

I’ll start with the bumper sticker, “Whittier: A quaint drinking village with a fishing problem.”

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(above – proof of fishing village status)

Then the comments:

My Friend Brian:  “What’d you do this weekend, John?”
John Wilder:  “Went to Whittier.”
Brian:  “Did you see the Wh-idiots?”

That may sum it up.

Whittier is a former Army supply base. Whittier has some advantages for this – it’s a deep water port that’s ice-free year round, and is a major supply location for Anchorage. Ships dock regularly and drop off stuff that gets on a train and goes to Anchorage.

All that may be nice, but you have to be just a bit off to live here. Really. Right now, everyone lives in the old Army barracks – essentially in one building. All 172 people. I did see one address that showed a PO Box number above five hundred . . . but I figure the first digit is the floor of the old army barracks that they live in, so if your PO box number were 788, you’d live in room 88 on floor 7.

All of the rooms are condos, so, the bright spot is that there is someplace in Alaska that condos make sense. Which would be one location. Whittier.  I asked what the winters were like – the answer was that winters in Whittier are hellish, but the special kind of frozen hell reserved for people from the tropics who did something really, really bad.

Folks in Whittier live with constant wind, and in the winter it gets up to 100mph shooting up the fjord that they live in. Add that to a temperature of -29°F, plus the town getting no direct sunlight (no, not above the Arctic Circle, just high mountains surround the place) from November to February. Then, add in 25 feet of average snowfall, plus being within a hundred miles or so of the fault that has produced the largest earthquake ever recorded, and you see what I mean about having to be off to live there. Whittier is the edge of the world.

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(above – more of Whittier – the long white building is where they used to practice Army stuff, but is now essentially abandoned, except for some killer freeze-tag games)

We were there in mid-September, and the touristy businesses were mostly closed. Whittier is shutting down for the winter (and, it snowed up in Fairbanks last week, so, winter is getting closer).

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(above – the harbor at Whittier – beautiful, but, it’s in Whittier)

As if all of the above weren’t enough, Whittier is also hard to get out of. The Mrs., The Boy, The New Boy and I did most things that a tourist can do in Whittier without a boat, and decided it was time to go back toward Anchorage. We drove back to the tunnel. It was 1:04 PM. The big lighted sign above the tunnel said, “NEXT TRAFFIC RELEASE 2:00 PM.” So, we went back toward the same six open stores, kicked around, took a few more photos, and generally sat in the car until 1:45. I was not going to be late and become stuck in Whittier for however much longer until the next traffic release – I was going to be there early. I mean, the lady in the shop that sold Fudge had been nice but we were ready to leave Whittier by now.
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(above – the old fuel depot at Whittier, with a looming glacier in the background, just sitting there looming)

So, back through the tunnel we went. A fairly large noise was evident when we went through, and The Boy said, “Monsters!”

I explained that those were actually ventilation fans – “air fans” I called them, and he asked why they had “Hair fans.”

I explained that those weren’t hair fans, they were air fans.

He paused a minute. “Then what are hair fans?”

Sometimes my life is an Abbot and Costello routine.

Next: Proof that the President of Taiwan is Stalking Me

From Fairbanks to Girdwood, Wilder Style

Note:  Three posts a year at the beginning of July, I toss in an old trip from my earlier blog.  This is the first of those three.  It dates back to 2005.

“Hey, buddy, how you doin’?  Pizzaland, huh?  Yeah, that’s lots of fun.  I just called to tell you that you burned my frickin’ house down!” – Aqua Teen Hunger Force

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It was time for our trip south.  The Mrs. had been agitating for some time to get the heck out of Fairbanks for a while.  We had originally thought to go earlier in the year, but decided we’d better not when we looked at how much a hotel cost in Anchorage – it was denominated in healthy kidneys.  In mid-September however, hotel rates drop by half or better, so, we rationalized this would be a good time to head out.  Because I’m cheap and want to keep at least one kidney.

In theory, the purpose of the trip was to get The Boy birthday presents in at a place that doesn’t sell groceries as well.  Living in Fairbanks is like living on an island – you drive the same roads day after day, seeing the same sites.  There is a sense of isolation up here, sort of like being trapped in an elevator with Carrot Top.  It must be worse in the villages that are unconnected by road to the rest of Alaska, maybe like being stuck in an elevator with a Carrot Top, but Carrot Top just finished a marathon after eating a LOT of spicy food.

Anyway, we saw the mountain pictured above on the way down south. It’s called Rainbow Ridge, according to the Rand-McNally.  Another picture of Rainbow Ridge is below.

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We drove right past Paxson, which, as far as I can see consists solely of a gas station/cafe/hotel contained in a single building and an airport.  At this point, The Mrs. indicates that in some fashion she’d like to be part of the food chain, preferably at the top.  Paxson, though, is pretty far from a place where you can get a hot meal, and rule one of traveling in a Wilder car is once you’ve past it when you’re driving, it no longer exists.  We kept going south.

We passed a blue highway sign with a plate, knife and fork.  The Mrs. indicated through a weary series of near-starvation gasps that she thought that there might be food there.  I slowed.

“Do you want to stop?”

No answer.  I think she did try to answer.  Maybe the hunger had made her weak.  So, we went on. Because I’m a guy, and driving is what we do.

The Mrs. thought that this might be a good time to conserve her energy by sleeping so that her body did not consume itself.  Then the chorus started from the backseat weasels:

First, The Boy: Making car sounds.

Then, The New Boy: Crying.

But they never were making noise at the same time – it was as if an invisible pendulum slowly and inevitably moved back and forth, and when it was pointing at one of The Boys, it was their turn to make enough noise so that The Mrs. could not sleep.  As we passed Dick Lake, I really wanted to stop and take a picture.  Why?  Because deep in my heart I’m still eight, and a sign that says Dick Lake.

I did miss one Alaska site to see due to The Mrs. catching some sleep – we drove right past where HAARP (High Altitude Atmospheric Research Program):

  1. Controls the weather,
  2. Controls the minds of mankind, or
  3. Conducts research into the atmosphere

You choose.

(2019 J.W.:  HAARP was a research program where they shot radio waves at the atmosphere for decades to . . . I don’t know, beat the Soviets at shooting radio waves at the atmosphere.  I believe it was mostly shut down after the Air Force decided that shooting radio waves at the atmosphere was not as fun as watching Netflix®.)

We finally reached Glennallen.  We stopped for lunch at an establishment that I believe was called the Glennallen Roadhouse. Ours was the only car, but they were open.

It’s far past tourist season, and the fifty or so tables in the restaurant were as empty as the logical portion of Susan Sarandon’s brain.  We picked a table and ordered.  For being the only people there, the waiter exchanged no witty banter, nor was he very good at keeping my coffee cup full.  We got some gas at the local station, and a plethora of signs indicated things we shouldn’t do.  Most of them were things that you wouldn’t do, anyway, if you have manners, I mean, who cleans salmon in the Ladies’ Room?  The Men’s Room, sure.  But not the Ladies’ Room.  Putting up a sign listing fifty things you don’t want your customers to do just makes you look unfriendly.  Don’t put up a sign.  If someone does something truly rude, challenge them to a duel.  Anyway, the signs cemented our thought of Glennallen as an unfriendly place.  But, then we found out why.

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Every house that we saw in Glennallen was firmly rooted in permafrost.  Which is to say, it is not rooted at all. When you put a house above permafrost, the permafrost will melt.  This isn’t global warming, it’s local warming – houses put off heat, silly.  When the permafrost melts, your foundation will be useless.  All of the new construction that we saw going on in Glennallen consisted of new houses being built on discrete pedestals.  On theses pedestals were screw-jacks so when part of the permafrost under your house melts, you go under your house and adjust the jacks, and, ta-da, your house is level again.

All of this doesn’t help if you own the house above.  It is for sale.  No bank will loan money on a house with such gross structural damage, but, if you did successfully purchase a house like the one above anyway, the realtor gives you a gas can and complementary five gallons of gas:  for the insurance fire.

Perhaps that’s why the residents of Glennallen are so angry – the price of starting an insurance fire has gone up since the price of oil is up.

Perhaps the other thing that irritates them is that they live right next to an active volcano.

Mt. Wrangell is visible from Glennallen, and has been heating up since the 1964 earthquake.  So, you live on icy muck, and there’s a volcano for your backyard.  We couldn’t see Mt. Wrangell from the road, it was too cloudy that day.

But there was more ahead – things that would shock us to the very core of our existence. Okay, that’s a lie.  Actually it was just a pretty drive was next.

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Chapter 2

Peasant: “Who are you?” King Arthur: “Your King.” Peasant: “I didn’t vote for you.” King Arthur: “You don’t vote for kings.” – M. Python

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So, we headed back west from Glennallen. The permafrost, as shown by the prevailing taiga, still surrounded us. The road likewise showed the effects of the permafrost, maintaining the consistency of Fruit by the Foot® thrown over piles of spare change. Which is, I believe, standard road construction technique in Alaska.

The mountain above was visible for about the first twenty minutes out of Glennallen. It looked like it had been sprinkled in gold – with the sunlight, as far as I could see in the panorama before me, shining only on its slopes.

The rest of the trip took us up and down through winding roads. The Glenn Highway is on the north side of a large valley, and never dips down.  The north side of this valley consists of the Talkeetna Mountains. The south has the Chugach Mountains.  The Chugach Mountains were the epicenter of the 1964 earthquake, a 9.2 earthquake.  Besides containing more force than Madonna’s breath after a garlic-laden dinner, this earthquake lasted five minutes.  Five minutes isn’t long when you’re watching the season finale of Battlestar Galactica, but it’s forever if you’re being shaken around like a tiny chew toy by a frenzied teacup poodle.  These mountains and the pretty things we have in Alaska don’t come free – we gotta pay with the earthquakes and volcanoes from time to time.

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The Chugach are also covered in glaciers like a pile of fries are covered in ketchup. We passed three major glaciers, and the last of them, the Matanuska, is shown below. I pulled off the side of the road on what looked like a rough trail to get this picture. I could see the campers and 4×4’s of moose hunters beyond, so I figured the road would work for me. The road narrowed alarmingly, with the passenger side dropping off about eight feet. I soon saw that the road that looked like it headed to the parking lot below (as we continued to climb) was really a trail for four-wheeled ATV’s. I imagined it starting to go in directions that my 4×4 could not follow.  Fortunately, the trail leveled off widened out and I could see a way to get back out.  This is not to say, however, that The Mrs. was entirely pleased with this lack of planning on my part.  But angels do follow foolish husbands or at least one did that day.

After a few more hours, we finally ended up in Palmer.  Palmer is nestled between mountains and looks like it was conceived in a dream.  One thing The Boy immediately noticed is that the McDonald’s sign was about three feet off of the ground, as were many of the signs on newer businesses.  I figured it must be a new ordinance, to preserve the beauty of Palmer.

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This is in contrast to Fairbanks. Recently, the Fairbanks-North Star Borough (remember, we don’t have counties up here) tried to pass an ordinance that would allow them to enforce existing ordinances.  I know that sounds silly, but though there may be ordinances on the books, there’s only one employee that has that theoretical power for a borough of about 90,000 people.  If the lawyer for the borough gets around to it, he might send you a nasty letter, telling you please, please, fence that junkyard that is your front yard.  If you don’t?  He may send you another stern letter.

So it’s simple and logical that the borough would pass an ordinance that would allow them to enforce their ordinances, right?
Maybe in Fort Wayne. Maybe in Palmer. Not Fairbanks.

The residents of the borough did me proud. To quote one resident, “We came to Alaska to get away from this!” According to the News-Miner, there was a near riot. The Assembly rejected the ordinance.

There are damn few places you have the freedom from silly regulations of local government, telling you what you can and can’t do on your own land. This is (mostly) one of them.

Amen.

Next: The Hotel and The President of Taiwan.

Civil War Weather Report #2, Censorship, Stalin, and a Bunch of Links

“Have you any idea how successful censorship is on TV? Don’t know the answer? Hmm. Successful, isn’t it?” – Max Headroom

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11:45pm – fifteen minutes to midnight.  Yes, it’s subjective, and it’s based on the countdown, published last month (Civil War II Weather Report: Spicy Time Coming).  We’re still at CivCon 6 – People actively avoid being near those of opposing ideology.  Might move from communities or states just because of ideology.

In this issue:  Front Matter – Censorship Update– John Mark’s Video and Criticism – Updated Civil War II Index – Who Benefits? – Links

Front Matter

Welcome to the second issue of the Civil War II Weather Report.  These posts will be a bit different than the other posts here at Wilder Wealthy and Wise – they will consist of smaller segments covering multiple topics around the single focus of Civil War II.  My intent is to update these on the first Monday of every month.

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John Wilkes Paintbooth (Idea via user Miles Long at The Burning Platform)

There has been a pretty significant interest in Civil War II – it has generated more emails to me than any other topic I’ve written about, with a great number of links to relevant information that you’ll see below.  It’s also resulted in about a dozen book suggestions, and I’ve bought or downloaded every one of your suggestions.  I haven’t had time to read even 10% of the books yet, but I can tell the suggestions are rock solid.  Thank you.  Please feel free to contribute more suggestions of links or books either in the comments below or directly to me at movingnorth@gmail.com – I won’t use your name (from e-mails) unless explicitly given permission, and I won’t directly quote your email unless explicitly given permission, but I may quote my answers in a way that doesn’t violate your privacy.

Censorship Update

Why is censorship an issue in Civil War II?  Censorship is a measure of how those in power (either political or economic) fear an idea and how polarized they have become.  Most censorship in the past had been based on the sexual content of the book or movie.  Now it’s based on ideas that are dangerous.  Which ideas?  Depends on the day.

I know it says “Update” but this is really the first version, so technically the first “update” will be next month.  There has been more censorship in the United States in the past year than at any point in my adult life.  This level of censorship is more frightening than anything I’ve ever seen, except for the latest Democratic presidential debates.

YouTube© is the real star of censorship in June.  Comedian/journalist Steven Crowder has been a long-time YouTube® broadcaster who is generally on the mainstream “Right” side of the political world.  He likes guns.  Doesn’t like abortion.  He is not extreme in any real sense of the word.  But as a comedian, one of the things he does regularly is mock people.  Which people?  Everyone.  I won’t go into the details (you can look it up) but a group of Leftists decided Crowder should be banned from YouTube™ since he made a lispy-Leftist journalist who is an ethnic and sexual minority feel bad.

YouTube© responded to this contrived moral outrage by making it so Crowder couldn’t get money from YouTube® ads – oddly this increased Crowder’s income as thousands of people bought merchandise directly from Crowder’s company.

End of story?  No.

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Soon enough, YouTube™ will consist of nothing more than makeup videos, Buzzfeed®, and whatever else the New York Times© says is okay.

Forty other channels were either banned, demonetized, or had videos deleted.  I won’t go so far as to say that these channels are all mainstream like Steven Crowder, they aren’t.  But I am not aware of any content that called for violence or did anything more than spread “dangerous ideas.”  In a crowning bit of irony, YouTube® censored a video where a Google™ (owner of YouTube™) executive talked about how Google© wouldn’t allow another “Trump situation.”  This was presumably via using their ability to manipulate what search results people see when they use Google™.

Twitter® had also purged significant figures on the Right, most prominent among them James Woods, who has since given up on the platform after multiple bans despite having over 2,000,000 followers.

Let’s take Amazon, who in 2010 said that “Amazon does not support or promote hatred or criminal acts, however, we do support the right of every individual to make their own purchasing decisions.”  This was a fairly absolute position, especially since Amazon was defending selling a pro-pedophilia book.

Not so much now.  Amazon has now banned dozens of books, and created entire categories of products that cannot be sold.   You can’t get a Confederate flag t-shirt from Amazon, but you can certainly get a Stalin shirt.  This is despite the fact that Stalin killed (In the World Murder Olympics, Communists Take Gold and Silver!) more people in one year – 3.9 million – than the total number of slaves in the United States in 1850 – 3 million.  Sure, it sucked to be a slave.  But it was certainly worse to be a slave to communism that was starved to death.

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With apologies to Arthur (LINK), whose tagline I mangled for this one.

I tried to come up with a list of censored things, but even the censored things seem to be mainly censored.  Orwell would be proud.

John Mark’s Civil War 2 Video and Criticism

This video was suggested by several of you, including Shinmen Takezo who suggests you listen to all of John Mark’s videos.  I’ve seen this one, and plan to watch the others when I have a spare minute.

I think Mr. Mark is spot on with commentary that Trump is the last Republican president that will be elected.  I wrote about this back in November of 2018(Trump: The Last President?).  It has a click-bait-y title, which might explain why it went viral and got over 120,000 pageviews on Zero Hedge©.

John Mark reviews an article purportedly written by a “Red Team” (bad guy) member of a war game where the Right revolts against the government and the Left.  My response is in italics, or braille if you don’t clean your screen very often.

First Vulnerability:  The electrical grid is dispersed and easy to take down into most cities because it is impossible to guard.  The front won’t be against just the Right, it will also be against their own (Leftist) cities.

I agree.  The United States is built as a free society, and so is all of our infrastructure.  It is devastatingly vulnerable.  In one of the links below, you’ll see how a $0.02 match took down a $20,000,000 bridge.  And that was on accident.

Second Vulnerability:  30% will revolt.  Most on the Right have guns.  There are 400 million guns, 8 trillion bullets in the United States – most in the hand of the Right.  Ten million strongly on the Right.  Tanks and airplanes don’t matter as much as the Left thinks.   There might be 2 million in the United States military, and over 60% voted for the Right.  There are 20 million former military.

Total would be about 2 million available forces for revolutionary suppression (including civilian police), if the active military did not revolt.

I agree.  The people, especially former military, on the Right can do whatever they want.  Tanks and airplanes didn’t win World War II on the Eastern Front – the winning weapon was the mortar and the rifle – anti-personnel weapons.  The Soviets also accomplished it only by throwing millions of bodies into combat.  Bodies that will be tough for the Left to get outside of conscription.

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I think there’s an Uber joke in here somewhere.

Third Vulnerability:  The Left lives in consuming cities, the Right lives in the land that produces food and stuff.  The concentrated cities of the Left produce a lot of porn and girls with daddy-issues, but not much food.

I agree.  They are vulnerable, though the porn and Facebook™ drought might be tough on some.

Where do I disagree? 

The Ultra-Violent and Nukes.

Sure, we know the Starbucks® Socialists and Latte Lenins won’t fight.  Why wouldn’t the government take MS-13 and arm them and turn them loose to “make examples” of small downs, one after another?  If they were losing, they would certainly do that.  And they could scrape together a pilot and a nuke or two to take down a rebel capital city.  If they were losing, they would.     

The Right could make a reasonable partisan force, especially when you look that probably 50% to 75% of the military would defect and train people on the Right, bringing along a nice batch of weapons (think grenades, C4, etcetera) to the farm to teach the rest of the football team.  I don’t think Jed would need to teach the boys to shoot, and I think they’d learn to use that mortar and grenade launcher that he “liberated” from the Marines very quickly.  

Logistics and Geography

The Left can be resupplied via air and ship.  “Emergency” supplies would head into coastal cities and sustain them forever, though Denver would fall soon enough.  Would Russia supply the heartland while the Chinese supplied the West Coast?  I have no idea – I think they’d do what.  Regardless, France would soon surrender.

Also, I think there would be a nearly immediate media clamp down.   The media supports the Left, no matter what.  They would parrot the Leftist line until the studios were taken from them by force.

I think that this is far too optimistic, but I also think the odds are lower the more time passes.

Civil War Index:

Here’s the state for this month.

Economic:  +10.42.  Unemployment is the same – interest rates took a huge drop, and the Dow was (slightly) up.  Increasing economic is good.

Political Instability:  -46%.  I think that the start of the debates and the poor poll numbers of “any democratic candidate” against Trump has calmed the Left politically by a lot.  Lower instability is good.

Censorship:  Originally this was going to be a candidate index.  Sadly, there’s no data.  How scary is it that you can’t find good data on censorship?

Interest in Violence:  Up 7% this month.  Not horrible, but not good.

Illegal Aliens:  Up 24% last month to 144,000.  144,000 is more than have been deported since Trump got into office.  This shows increasing instability south of the border, or lower fear of deportation.  Both are bad.

Eventually these will be graphs, but a graph with one point is . . . boring.  Maybe in August.

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Quote From a Failed Candidate to be The One:  “Is the Red Pill gluten free?  Also, is it vegan?”

One measure I thought was pretty good was from Anonymousse over at The Burning Platform:  “One good metric may be the spread between political poll projections and reality/results. I’m thinking that gauges just how “free” people feel about saying versus what they do. Something I’ve noticed widening over the years.”

I’d like to do this one, but the data points are just too far apart.  This would be useful information over the course of a decade, but won’t be much use monthly.  I think Anonymousse is right – people don’t feel good about sharing if they’re going to vote for an “unpopular” candidate on the Right, severely skewing the polls.

What do I mean by unpopular?

We were on vacation two years ago, and decided to stop at a national monument.  We got out.  The plates on our car are from a very red state – my county went 85% for Trump.  As we got out of the car to stretch our legs and see the monument, we spied a guy birdwatching.  He put his binoculars on our car.  He was about 150 feet away.

Birdwatch Bill, yelling:  “Who’d you vote for?”

John Wilder, being sassy, yelling back:  “Starts with a T!”

Birdwatch Bill, muffled:  “Ashshof.”

John Wilder:  “What?”

Birdwatch Bill, with anger, yelling:  “You heard me, A****le.”  It rhymes with tadpole.

I was stunned, I mean, I don’t deny being a tadpole, but I didn’t think you could see it from 150 feet away.  The Mrs. was in the bathroom, and I’m thankful that she didn’t hear him, since she would have broken him like a twig – she handles my light work.

After saying that, Birdwatch Bill scurried and jumped in his car, and sped off.

After hearing that story, The Mrs. was adamant that we not move to that state, even when I had a job offer there, even though I think she’d like to hear Birdwatch Bill’s yelp as she gave him a nuclear wedgie.

Who Benefits?

Whenever I see something that doesn’t make sense, I try to understand what could possibly be causing it.  When conditions are better for minority racial and ethnic groups than ever in the history of the country, and the agitation increases, I have to ask, who benefits?  When the push for segregation comes from, not the Right but the Left, I ask, who benefits?

When I see us moving on a seemingly certain path towards war, I have to ask, who benefits?  Probably more on this in a future post.

Links From Readers:

Obviously I only stand by 100% of my own writing.  Here is some interesting stuff sent in by readers.  Feel free to take some of the burden off of Ricky, and send me more.  And if you send it in an email, please let me know if I may credit you.

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See, a chain link photo in the “Links” page.  I’m witty that way.

Thomas Chittum’s Civil War Two  – I’m not finished with this one yet, but very interesting.  A 178 page .pdf file – this was listed by “Mark” at The Burning Platform.

Photos of Bosnia during and after their civil war from “Mygirl…maybe” over at The Burning Platform.

Update on the State of Jefferson vs. New California from user “Martel’s Hammer” at The Burning Platform.

Who is behind Antifa?, via AC at The Burning Platform.

From Ricky:

Pentagon prepping for civil unrest?

Review of the risk of civil unrest (presentation).

Peter Turchin predicts violence in 2020.

France and Social Unrest – Tied to Loss of Family and Religion

Perhaps my favorite link from Ricky – the Partisan Conflict Index – worth watching. 

Brazos reminds us that there is precedence for using the troops against American civilians. 

User “MN Steel” reminds us that the damage a single match can do.

From my E-mail:

First is a blog I often read, Metallicman on what liberals have in store for conservatives.  Not pretty. 

And more from Ricky!

This one from an Australian perspective.

NY Magazine – wondering if it isn’t time to split up.  My add (from HBO®) was for the series Divorce.  Hmmm.

From the Federalist, again about “divorce” of the United States.

From other emails . . .

A great article from Mary Christine over at The Burning Platform, looking at Kansas and Missouri during the Civil War and how partisans will form – will Civil War Two look more like the personal fights along the Kansas and Missouri borders?