Health – Page 9 – Wilder, Wealthy, and Wise

Remember: Your Mission Isn’t Done

“Santa Maria! Captain, you cannot punish the crew like this. They will mutiny!” – Sealab 2021

The big problem with the French Revolution is that lots of folks lost their heads.

Have a long way to drive tomorrow, so here’s a repeat. Enjoy!

One winter, while hunting elk up on Wilder Mountain, we had, well, an issue. We were about fifteen or twenty miles in from the nearest pavement, and headed home.

It was overcast. It was lazily spitting snow, with a breeze that was slowly picking up. Looking to the west, where there should be a resplendent sunset, the sky was dark, heavy, and pendulous with brooding storm clouds that blotted out even a hint of the winter Sun.

That was when the problem hit. Pa Wilder, while driving over a “road” that was little more than a common path cut by four-wheel-drive vehicles over the course of decades of hunting and firewood gathering, drove over a small branch that had fallen in the road. Not a problem, right?

Well, it was a problem. In this case, the branch had the stem of a broken off limb, sticking straight up. Pa drove the GMC Jimmy® right over that sharp shard of limb.

In the span of a dozen or so feet, we had lost not one, but two tires. It penetrated the center of each tire, poking a hole the size of a half-dollar coin in each.

Amazingly, we had lost another tire already that day, already.

Ahhh, I remember this trip. Those were the Goodyears®.

We now had a four-wheel drive with five tires and three flats. In winter. As a blizzard approached and night was setting in. And all of this was in country where it could easily hit -40°F as night descended.

I bring this up to say that we had a mission. Our mission at that point in time was to get home. There were several challenges, and I’m pretty sure if most people were in the backcountry as a blizzard was descending that the last person they would choose would be a 12-year-old boy to be a guy on the team.

Which is sad.

Children can have missions. Children can face danger. Children can do important things. We forget that because we’re in a society that doesn’t give children important things to do, mostly. Midshipmen in the Royal Navy were as young as 14.

I hear the Russians just canceled their Penguin Army program. Now all they have left is Navy Seals.

To be clear: Midshipmen in the Royal Navy were 14. A midshipman is an officer. If you were unaware, the Royal Navy wasn’t a social club, and often those boys fought in wars. As officers.

So we forgot that boys can be given real, substantial responsibility. But there’s also the chance that we forget something else: that each of us is on a mission. And each of us has a role to play.

We currently are in a place where freedom is an increasingly precious and rare commodity. It’s not just in the United States – Trump may have said, “Make America Great Again” but down under they seem to be following the “Make Australia A Prison Again” plan. And Canada?

I love our Canadabros that come by regularly (Canada is the second-largest readership here), but Canada seems to be determined to become the Soviet Above the 49^th Parallel, led by that Tundra Trotsky, Trudeau.

Pictured in background: the only two Canadians Justin’s mother didn’t have sex with.

It seems like in this day and age we all have a mission. Just like 12 isn’t too young, 80 isn’t too old.

Frankly, we need all hands on deck. The size of the mission is the largest on the North American continent since 1774. I almost wrote that the idea was to preserve the Constitution and the Republic. Seriously, I’d love nothing more than to write that.

I’d love for that to happen. I’d love for us to come together. I’d settle for the laws to look like they did 90 years ago. Heck, even 70 years ago. That would be preferable to today.

A reversion, sadly, is impossible.

Whatever will come from tomorrow will not look like the past. It may be a shadow. The Holy Roman Emperors weren’t Roman. And the Holy Roman Empire wasn’t the Roman Empire.

And I hear that soon enough he’ll be sending ambassadors to the Ottoman Empire, too. Can’t you just sniff the leadership?

Or it may be something entirely different.

I think it will be entirely different.

And that’s where you come in. Yes, you.

You have a mission to create a new nation here. It won’t look like what we have today – it simply cannot, since we have created a situation that is at the far end of stability, but more on that Wednesday.

I assure you, you play a part. The initial conditions of what happens are crucial to the final outcome. If George Washington had wanted to be King? If Thomas Jefferson had been a Martian Terminator Robot like the one that keeps triggering my motion detector lights at night even though the sheriff won’t believe me?

Things would be entirely different.

And you are important. Your actions in the next decade are critical to the creation of what will come after. Do we want a nation that will be based on slavery, control, and that eternal boot stamping on a human face?

I’d vote no. If you’re a regular here, I’m betting that’s your vote, too.

I think everything he wrote was Orwellian.

If so, let me shout as loudly as I can: You Are Not Done. This is Not Over. What is it that you can do to create a world where freedom beats slavery? What can you do to create a world where children can run free from the indoctrination of an all-powerful, all-regulating state?

There’s a lot.

Our nation was, thankfully, built on the consent of the governed. Most things that local government provides, we want. To quote Python, Monty:

But apart from the sanitation, the medicine, education, wine, public order, irrigation, roads, the fresh-water system, and public health, what have the Romans ever done for us?

To be clear: the Federal government does very little to make anything in the list above better, and often does a lot to make them worse. Except for the interstate highways. Those are actually pretty cool.

But I will tell you – you are the seed of the future of this country. You are the seed of the future of this continent.

Never cross a Scrabble® player. They’ll send you threatening letters.

You are the seed of the future of this world. It doesn’t matter how old you are. The time is coming, and coming quickly where great injustices will be attempted. And you are the seed to make what comes after better for humanity. Would the world rather live in 1950’s America or 1930’s U.S.S.R.?

The choice is stark.

Your mission is clear. How will you act to make your county, your state, your country one where free men can walk?

It’s up to you.

Back to the mountain.

For me, it was a game. That’s the advantage of being 12. Pa Wilder and my older brother (also named John due to a typographical error) and I wheeled the tires so we had two good ones in front. We locked in the hubs on the four-wheel drive.

I don’t know if you’ve ever tried to drive up a mountain path in a car with only two tires in a snowstorm as it got darker every minute. It doesn’t work very well. The flat back wheels couldn’t push the Jimmy® up the hill.

That’s where I came in. It was my job to take the winch cable, run up the hill, and loop the cable up the base of a tree. Pa would then use the combination of the winch and the two front tires to pull the Jimmy© up.

Tree by tree, cable length by cable length, we worked pretty flawlessly as a team to get the Jimmy™ to the top of the hill. Thankfully, for the most part it was downhill from there. Although Pa was driving on the rims, we got it home.

Don’t let the jack slip on your foot when you’re changing a tire. You might need a toe.

Was there danger? Certainly, there always is. We had snow, so we had water. Ma would have called the Sheriff not too long after dusk, and even though the mountains were a labyrinth of roads, people had seen us. We also had matches, hatchets, wool blankets, gasoline, and a mountain’s worth of firewood to keep us warm.

But we also had a mission. Each of us served our purpose, and we got home.

Pa was a bit raw about having to buy two new rims and three new tires for a day’s worth of not seeing any elk, though. For the record, I never saw a single elk when hunting with Pa. I’m telling you, that man knew how to hunt. Finding? Sometimes I think he just wanted a good drive in the woods and hike with his boys, teaching them about living. Teaching them about missions, and the part that they play, whether they know it or not.

In this life, we all have a mission, and we all play a part in it. I can assure you that your part is not done, because you’re above ground, breathing, and reading this.

I hate to repeat something so trite, but in this case, it’s true: you are not done. This is not over. And the whole world depends . . . on you.

It’s up to you. You will create the future.

So, go do it.

The Backlash Against Journalists Begins

“Let them have the cabbage. We here at I.N.S. will feast on journalistic filet mignon.” – The Night Stalker

An honest journalist walked into CNN®. The network head asked, “What are you doing here?”

I guess Trudeau had enough of people being mean to journalists. I mean, we know that Justin Trudeau is the most tolerant person in Canada, right?

But he’s the most qualified person to be prime minister, right?

Huh. Perhaps not. But certainly, he has the best in mind for his people.

Well, thankfully the vaxx is helping people stay alive. I mean, it’s not like mortality is up by double (or nearly double) in the ages from 25-55. Oh, wait . . . .

I wonder how people will react to that?

Certainly, that didn’t happen, that journalists and the press wanted awful things to happen to people that had a different opinion. I mean, is there any evidence of that?

I guess after that, I’m getting the subtle hint that they might not like folks who were somewhat suspicious of a new technology unleashed with minimal testing.

But at least the vaxx works.

I’ll let Sam Hyde have the last word.

Government Nutrition Advice: About To Get Worse

“Janine, someone with your qualifications would have no trouble finding a top-flight job in either the food service or housekeeping industries.” – Ghostbusters

What celebrity loves cereal the most and is always prepared to eat it? Reese. With her spoon.

It sounds like how you would describe my hair.

“Tufts.”

Weirdly, it’s also a college in Massachusetts, which has very little to do with my hair. The last time I was in Massachusetts, I was looking for a lumberjack dressed like a patriot – I heard they had a Boston Lager©.

But back to Tufts®. It turns out that when famous showman P.T. Barnum wanted to give a college money, he chose them, I’m guessing because he likes a good joke. Although P.T. Barnum didn’t really say, “There’s a sucker born every minute,” it looks like Tufts© has adopted that phrase as their motto.

And the suckers that Tufts™ is currently targeting is . . . us.

American “official, government-approved™” nutritional guidelines have been a mess for all of my conscious life. Food quadrants. Food pyramids. Food tetrahedra. Actual government policy since 1969: “The same 1500 calories of sugar is better for you than 1500 calories of steak” – which came from after nutritionists (from Harvard™, no less!) in the 1960s got paid off.

My friend turned vegan – it was like I’d never seen herbivore.

I think that the results over the last fifty years have plainly shown that the government-suggested diet is awful. And I think that, further, the cheapest foods that many people consume on a daily basis is equally awful, but more on that, later.

The first conference on nutrition was held in 1969, and you can see how well that has worked out by all the skinny and fit people wandering around. The idiot in charge of this is a spell-check challenging person by the name Dariush Mozaffarian. To me, his name sounds like the founder of a Jamaican cannabis religion, but, no, he’s the head of a group that’s working with Joe Biden to further enrich big food companies no, make people fatter no, “build bigger backsides”.

I’ve seen the preliminary results of the mess that they’re likely to introduce. It’s called a Food Compass. The “compass” combines “9 domains and 54 individual attributes” to produce a single number between 1 and 100. I’m not kidding, and they claim to have done this evaluation on over 8,000 foods.

1 is “bad”. 100 is “good”. I don’t know if that makes it much of a compass, but I can already see that this is headed south. Instead of “don’t eat crap” it’s now going to be some ludicrous phrase like “Follow the Food Compass™ to Health®” and then Kamala will giggle like she’s been hotboxing ether with Hunter.

Yup, this is likely going to be official government policy – and one of Mozaffarian’s papers is titled, Mandating front-of-package food labels in the U.S. – What are the First Amendment obstacles?, so that should make you certain that there’s no threat of government force to mandate everyone. Oh, wait, this is Biden. His world consists only of mandates, pudding pops, and looking for fresh hair to sniff.

If The Mrs. made whiskey, I’d love her still.

Thankfully, Hair Plugs University®, oops, Tufts™ put a list of some of the foods that they had rated. I had a batch of comparisons I was going to make but decided I’d just put out a list so you could judge how well the compass works for yourself. I want to remind you, that these numbers came directly from the Tufts’© website:

Tomato Juice, 100
Cheerios™, 95
Almond milk, 86
Orange Juice, 78
Chocolate-covered almonds, 78
Soy milk, 71
Potato Chips, 69
PowerBar©, 67
Peanut butter sandwich, 66
Fritos®, 55
Pineapple, canned, heavy syrup, 51
M&M’s™, 44
Chocolate ice cream cone with nuts, 37
Cheddar cheese, 36
Steak, 33

No, I didn’t goof up. This isn’t Bizzaro™ World©. These “scientists” are trying to say with a straight face that eating M&M’s© is better than eating steak. That eating potato chips is healthier than eating cheddar cheese. I could keep comparing, but food analogies are the Cheetos® of conversation.

I keep breath mints in my sleeveless jacket. I call it my Tic-Tactical® vest.

It is clear that these recommendations are going to be very, very bad. On the list as better than cheese and steak (which we have been eating for millennia) is candy. Also on the list are many things that simply have never existed in nature. How does one milk an almond or a soy? Where are the nipples even at?

Part of the problem with highly processed foods (like Cheerios™) is that they are essentially pre-digested. They hit the digestive system harder and faster than their more natural and unprocessed counterparts, which also creates spikes in insulin. Oh, wait, that seems to be a problem that leads to obesity and early death.

As found.

Cheerios© are certainly not as bad as M&M’s©, but both steak and cheese are better. And better for you. Steak and cheese are better, in my opinion, than every food ranked higher by the idiots at Tufts©. It will likely soon be government policy to encourage people to jam their cheeks with food that will kill them.

The food industry is about this: getting the most profit. How to do that? Jam the most calories into a food that tastes good enough to make people come back for more. Health? What’s that? Health doesn’t show up on the balance sheet.

If only someone could solve this problem. If only . . . oh, wait. Want to find physically healthy people with odd beards? Look to the Amish farmers that spend their days eating the food that comes off their farms. The first study I found on the Internet indicated that only 4% of Amish folks were obese.

Huh.

Do you know what drives me buggy? Me horsey.

Now, the Amish are also physically active, too, in most cases. But not in all cases. And they have pies. And cakes. But they don’t have almond milk. Or soy milk.

But when you look at their beards?

Tufts. And I’d trust those tufts over P.T. Barnum’s Tufts™.

Total Recall: Looking Back On The COVID Crisis

“You had a dishwasher box to sleep in? I didn’t even know sleep. It was pretty much twenty-four seven ball gags, brownie mix and clown porn” – Deadpool

One girl I dated in High School asked if she used too much makeup. I replied, “Dunno, depends on if you are trying to kill Batman.”

[Wilder Note: I’ve been meaning to dig this post out for a while, especially since something that WordPress did mangled a bit of the original with weird characters. I wrote it originally on March 25, 2020. This was meant as a prediction of what we’d see going through the ‘Rona. It has been wilder than even I would expect, and in many ways I think I undersold what we’d see. That being said, I’m not sure we’re done going through The Cliff phase and into Disillusionment. I’d love your feedback.]

“Great, now it’s the end of the world and we can’t get a new dishwasher,” The Mrs. actually said, after I finally relented that it would probably cost more to fix the dodgy old dishwasher than a new one would cost. Plus, the old dishwasher is stainless steel, so if it were a hundred yards away, it would make quite a nice practice target. I call that a win-win. Besides, Amazon® actually has them in stock, so I could theoretically have one by next week.

See? You can get quality appliances during the end of the world.

I started working from home yesterday, which was nice. When it was lunchtime, I wasn’t hungry, but I was nice and warm so I took a nap right in my home office which is also known as the couch. Good times. I do have a concern: The Mrs. slapped my heinie as I walked by and said, “nice butt” so I’m thinking of bringing this up with HR. I want to be treated as more than a sexual object. I mean, not much more, but more.

As much as you might be interested in my derriere, I really do want to talk about COVID-19 and get to the bottom of how the issue will progress in the coming months. While each crisis is different, they are all sort-of-predictable because in the end, people don’t change all that much, even though circumstances do. Certainly, we want to get this all behind us, in the rearview, so to speak.

Okay, I’ll stop. Seven synonyms for the posterior in two paragraphs are quite enough. I don’t want you to think I’m a bum.

But what is this pattern I mentioned? Here are, as near as I can determine, Eight Stages of a Crisis. This provides way in which each crisis can be evaluated compared to the others this is my modification of work originally done by Zunin and Myers.

This is like the Kubler-Ross five stages of grief, but with the apocalypse in mind. Why settle for one death, when you can have millions or billions on your mind? It’s so nice and cheery. The nice part of using this model is that you can gauge where we are in the current COVID-19 mess.

Who would he assassinate for a Klondike® bar? Apparently Archduke Franz Ferdinand.

The Warning

This is the opening stage of a crisis. It may be short, as in 9/11, or it may be a slow-motion collapse like the gradually increasing troop buildups and mobilizations that led to World War I. Everyone wanted to stop it, but no one was sane enough to say no. The Warning before the first Civil War was literally decades in length.

In the current COVID crisis, The Warning came during and just after the December impeachment. With the focus of the country elsewhere, who cared about the flu? We don’t trust the media very much. Why? They don’t seem trustworthy. Example: when Trump shuts down air transport to China, CNN® says it’s racist. When China shuts down air transport from the United States, CNN™ says it’s a wise and prudent move by China’s benevolent leadership.

In a world where CNN© and the Chinese government have similar levels of credibility we tend to forget the ending to the story of the boy who cried wolf: in the end, the wolves really attacked.

How did they not see this coming?

The Event

The Event is generally not long, but it can be. It’s the Shot Heard Round the World at Lexington and Concord in the Revolutionary War. The Event is when the rules change forever, and nothing can ever make the world go back to the way it was. It’s the spark that lights the fire. When people look back, everyone can see The Event.

Nothing is ever the same afterwards. The Event changes everyone that it touches, and often ends up changing systems permanently. It is disruptive. It may not be the reason that everything fails, it might just be a small event toppling an already unstable system. In a crisis like 9/11, the event is obvious and instant. COVID-19 has led to a slow-rolling avalanche across the economy. Was it poised for a fall anyway? Possibly.

As a longer cascade, what will be The Event that history will use to remember COVID-19?

In one of my more frightening thoughts: what if we haven’t seen The Event yet?

I’m not sure he’s koalafied to make that decision.

Disbelief

When things have changed, and changed drastically, people refuse to believe it. When the power is out because a tree fell on the power lines, I will walk into a room an automatically flip the light switch. Why? Habit, partially. But there’s a part of my mind that is existing in Disbelief, perhaps, that doesn’t believe that the power could ever be gone.

Disbelief isn’t a coping strategy, and it’s not an attempt of the mind to protect itself, at least in a healthy person. It’s more inertia. You’re used to the world being a certain way, and when it isn’t, part of your mind isn’t quite ready to process it.

This might be an overreaction. COVID-19 might be no worse than the flu. But that isn’t explained by the reactions we’ve seen so far from places that got it earlier than the United States. Italy is locked down. In two weeks, we will know more. In a month, I think, we will have certainty.

In order to calm panicked customers, Wal-Mart opened up a second register.

Panic

At some point, the mind is confronted with the new reality and forced to accept it. But the rules are new, and unknown. What to do? One could take a deep breath, and review the situation and think logically or? One could Panic. Panic is easier, and doesn’t require a lot of thought.

Panic is the natural reaction when your brain realizes that it has done zero to prepare for the new reality. So, what to do? Buy staples as required to build up the stockpile you’ve accumulated over time? Or buy 550 cans of Diet Mountain Dew®? Or just buy toilet paper, because everyone else is and you don’t know what to do or have any independent thought? Toilet paper purchasing is Panic.

Not all heroes are able to walk. I mean, some gained 400 lbs on the couch.

Heroism

While the Panic is ongoing, the first glimmer of Heroism starts to show. Brave men and women working in the medical field are the first signs of Heroism. Donald Trump talking with Al Sharpton to address the problems he sees is Heroism is realizing that there is a greater good, and that sacrifice is required. Heroism is embodied throughout the response to the crises where a few have an opportunity to save many, and where enemies put aside squabbles for a time because it’s the right thing to do.

There was a family story: Grandma Wilder went during World War II to weld Liberty ships at the Alameda Ship Yard. She would regularly get things sent to her from her mother who lived in the country in the middle of Flyover. Needles were rationed in San Francisco, but not in Flyover. Sugar was rationed in San Francisco, but not in Flyover. Why ration needles and sugar? To build common purpose, so even people not piloting P-51s or jumping out of landing craft at Iwo Jima could feel like they were doing their part. To be fair, rationing was necessary in wide segments of the economy, it wasn’t a fake, but it did help bring everyone together.

Right now Heroism is going on, and we aren’t even asked to do anything more than to sit down and watch Netflix® unless we’re keeping vital industries going. Here’s a link to Aesop’s place that shows the quiet heroism going on out there (LINK). Read it all.

I read the other day that coyotes are about 10 miles an hour faster than road runners. My entire childhood was a lie.

The Cliff

Keeping order requires energy. Some part of the energy of the system is put into keeping order. In a time of significant social cohesion, like World War II, the United States didn’t face The Cliff, even though virtually every other developed nation did. Instead, the energy that the crisis took was replaced by people working together.

Most of the time in a real crisis, however, there’s The Cliff. I wrote about it here: Seneca’s Cliff and You.

We have not fallen off The Cliff. Is it certain that there is one? No. But every single leader, elected or appointed, is acting like it’s there. I believe we will see it. The new normal will grow from events moving quickly. Already at Wilder Redoubt, we’ve had nothing but home-cooked meals for the last week, with a couple of store-bought sandwiches being the exception.

Will home-cooked food, family dinners, and homeschooling be the legacy of COVID-19?

I expect that we’ll see The Cliff soon enough. How deep will it go? As I’ve mentioned before, no one knows. The worst case is that the economy crashes through levels to Great Depression era lockup in two weeks or so. Only 40% of Americans are able to absorb an unexpected $1,000 expense. 80% are living paycheck to paycheck, and those paychecks just stopped.

Dead.

Going first will be car payments. The average monthly car payment is $800. Me? I’d sell you my daily driver for just two months of that, so expect car finance companies to seize up like an ungreased stripper pole. But the businesses that employ those people aren’t much better off. The best restaurant in Modern Mayberry came pretty close to closing down shop six years ago, but pulled through. The second best restaurant didn’t survive. There will be cascading failures as the debts owed from one business to the next go unpaid, and this won’t just be for small businesses. I feel confident saying that several businesses with 10,000 or more employees will go bankrupt. Overall loss to the economy? 40% of the GDP this year?

Is there a better case? Sure. We contain COVID-19 in a month or so, and then call it good. We only lose 10% to 20% of our GDP this year, and government pumps five or six trillion dollars into the economy to juice it back up. That’s the best case. And that’s just in the United States.

I’m not kidding, that’s how deep The Cliff is. If we’re lucky.

Something, something, Dark Side®.

Disillusionment

After the fall, things suck. We had heroes, but the time for Heroism is over. Disillusionment sets in when things don’t snap back to normal. Things will seem rosy, only for failure to crush hope. The more government “helps” during this phase, the worse recovery will be. Roosevelt “helped” so much during the Great Depression that he extended it for years.

But politicians will take drastic steps, because they can’t help themselves. The length of time Disillusionment lasts? Months to years.

Some re-assembly required.

Rebuilding

This is the other side of The Cliff. Whereas, as Seneca said you go down a cliff pretty quickly, you only build up slowly. Rebuilding the economy will take years. If we do it right, we’ll build a stronger economy, less dependent upon foreign supply lines, that guarantees freedom while preserving the traditional values that built the wealth in the first place.

If done poorly? The system is controlled, oppressive, and coercive. Leaders matter, but the quality of the citizenry to fight back against the system is even more important. Rebuilding takes years, and by my best case scenario, four to eight years.

So, I guess I’ll get a jump start on rebuilding. Dishwashers on the Internet. Amazing. My only problem is that there’s this lady at work who keeps making suggestive comments and touching me all the time. Just a few minutes ago, she told me that she expects me to share a bed with her! They always told me not to get my honey where I got my money, but what happens when you work at home?

The End of COVID, And Mining Salt From Leftist Tears

“That’s the saltiest thing I ever tasted, and I once ate a big heaping bowl of salt.” – Futurama

Think they were crying at CNN® when they wrote that headline?

The CDC® has just sent out the word: Corona-Chan is over. The ‘Vid is over, served its purpose, finished, and, whereas last year Joe Biden wanted everyone who wouldn’t submit to the Vaxx fired, well, now it is over.

Done. Doesn’t mean that at certain places that they still can’t fire you for not having been Vaxxed, but it’s starting to look a bit silly.

There are, apparently, a group of people that have looked on the ‘Rona as one of their base sacraments, nearly an item of worship.

The CDC is my shepherd; I shall not want.
It maketh me to inject mRNA: it leadeth all men with slight fevers to quarantine.
It affirmith my gender: Biden leadeth me in the paths of inflation for his name’s sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of Drumpf, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy heckin’ science and stimulus checks, they comfort me.
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of Cheeto Hitler: thou anointest my hair with unnatural colors; my electric car runneth over people.
Surely virtue signaling shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Corona forever.

Except, not. I’m thinking with midterm elections coming up, just like Biden declared victory on inflation, he can declare victory on the ‘Rona. And here in Modern Mayberry I can’t recall the last time I’ve seen anyone in a mask. It’s simply not a thing anymore. Oh, yeah, several vaxxed folks I know have had the ‘Rona. Shocking, that:

But, the Left simply cannot fathom a life without one of their fears, it’s like they’re in some weird, inverted sense, comforted by their fear. Their reaction is telling, so, without further ado, I’ll let them (mostly) tell it in their own terms.

Warning: some of the language is a bit salty – they’re pretty butthurt about this one.

Let’s start with Reddit®

Surely things are better at Twitter©.

Ouch. Guess not. Well, I’ll let them speak (mostly) for themselves. Enjoy mining the salt from the Leftist tears! See you Monday!

My response:

‘

Parents, Photos, And Moving Out

“Well, the part where Romeo dies is sad. But where Juliet died is sad too. But I think the saddest part of all is when Jan said ‘Who goes there?’ before Peter said ‘Hark’.” – The Brady Bunch

Definitely would have been a better show with this cast.

There’s a larger point to some of these stories that I’ll be putting out on Friday that will become obvious over time. But I want to stress this: outside of the obvious jokes, 100% of these stories are true.

I remember the first time I called Ma Wilder “mom.” I know that’s a memory that really most people don’t have, since most people don’t even know what a mom is when they call them mom. Heck, it isn’t even the earliest memory I have, which involves PEZ®, a claw-foot bathtub, and a poorly insulated electrical appliance.

I don’t recall how old I was, exactly when I first called Ma “mom”. I do recall it was a bright spring day and Ma Wilder was ironing in the laundry room. The back door was open, letting light and air in through the screen door that led to the backyard.

What Ma Wilder figured out while ironing: she had more pressing concerns.

I think what the sentence was (memory is a bit fuzzy on this, too), but I think it was something, “I’m going to go to my room, Mom,” or something like that.

I recall being a bit scared. How would she react? I was pretty sure I was supposed to call her “mom” but what if she reacted poorly? What if it made her mad?

She said, “Okay.”

And it came out of her mouth like it was normal, though, looking back on it I think even she had to hold back and concentrate on it being . . . normal.

The reason I remember this is because, unlike all those people who have to work at it, I was born a bastard. Longer version, I believe that this was the day that my adoption was finalized and I became an official Wilder rather than “that blonde kid that keeps hanging around the house and breaking a nearly endless stream of things.”

Because I did that, too. Most of the calamities that I caused were out of a sense of experimentation. For instance, one day I was watching The Brady Bunch after coming home from first grade. Now, as rankings on television programs go, The Brady Bunch was certainly the lowest tier of after-school television. Much higher was F-Troop and also Hogan’s Heroes. Of course, the gold standard was Star Trek.

Obscure fact: Ricardo Montalban had a tough time finding work after Star Trek II: No one wanted to hire an ex-Khan.

Anyway, it was The Brady Bunch that caused much of the destruction of my family’s stored memories. You see, in one episode, Greg (it was Bobby, I think) had taken a picture that proved the receiver’s foot was out of bounds on a key catch in a football game.

How did he prove this? He took a picture into a dark room, and then put it in water with some chemicals. Presto, he was able to stretch the picture and make it bigger. Why on Earth was the Wilder family making do with these little tiny 3” by 5” (2mm by 5 liter) snapshots when I could just dunk them in water in the bathroom and stretch them to make them larger.

I was no dummy! I knew that to make this work, you had to be in the dark, so I closed the door. Thankfully, this bathroom was an interior one with no windows! I put the picture in the water and tried to stretch it. No go.

Huh, looking back I could have died of exposure.

Maybe if I soaked it longer? I’m sure I waited for at least 15 seconds before my sucrose-addled brain realized the problem. Of course! It was simple! Greg had chemicals in the water that made the photo stretch!

Where could I find chemicals? Yup, mom kept them under the sink.

I added pretty much every chemical I could find under the sink to my impromptu photo embiggening water bath. I believe I probably created a stew of chemicals that would have been recognized by OSHA as not a violation of civil law, but probably regulated by the Geneva Convention as one of those pesky “war crimes”.

I took the photo and tried to stretch it. Still a no go. Well, it must be this particular photo. Why not put all of them in the sink to try to stretch them? I’m sure it’ll work.

Hmmm, no go on any of the dozens and dozens of photos that chronicled the life of my brother (it’s now obvious why his name is John Wilder, too) from birth to 8^th grade. Well, no harm, no foul, right? I’ll just let the toxic brew of chemicals water out and leave the soggy mass of soap, home cleanser, and hand lotion (I do distinctly recall adding that) covered photos dry out.

The best way to let them dry out? In a soggy mass. I’m pretty sure that when they “dried” they stuck together well enough that the only things left of my brother’s childhood are his dental records.

This was my attempt to teach my newly minted parents that I was certainly not like the other children and that, just perhaps, I shouldn’t be left alone quite so much. Silly adults.

They didn’t learn. Their next attempt was for Ma Wilder to quit her job to take care of me. There was one two-week period Ma was needed down at the bank that Pa ran to help get The Books ready for the Bank Examiners. They did what every parent would do: hire a local teenager to watch me. The first one quit after a day. The second one quit after two days.

Ma Wilder, actual quote in my room after I did this: “Do you smell something burning?”

I’m thinking that it was about this point that Ma and Pa were regretting paying that attorney all of that money to get me free and clear as their child. And I think I had broken them.

“John, would you please, after school, just come home. Make yourself a sandwich. And then sit and watch TV. For two weeks. If you do this, we’ll pay you.” The equivalent they were offering me, per day, calculates in 2022 dollars as $78.39. For a first grader. All I had to do? Just not destroy the house during those hours. I could destroy at will when I was off the clock.

This was a good deal. I accepted it, and kept my end of the bargain.

So, my first paying gig was to just restrain myself from being an insurance hazard for two weeks, for which I was paid the (2022 equivalent) sum of $783.90.

Tax free, baby.

So, they paid me. I didn’t feel slighted that they put my money into a savings account. But, what to do with all my newfound wealth? I thought about it and decided. About a month later I announced at breakfast, “I think I’m going to move out and get my own place.”

These people had all these stupid rules. It was time to fly free.

There’s nothing sweeter than a baby’s laughter. Except when it’s 3am. And you’re home alone. And you don’t have a baby.

Ma Wilder, again, didn’t react poorly. “Please tell me about your plan.”

I explained to her that I had $783.90, and I was going to go get my own apartment.

“What will you do for food?”

“I have money, $783.90 in 2022 dollars.”

She gently went through what food for a week would cost, as well as rent. She never said I couldn’t move out, but after doing the math, it turned out all the money I had would be gone in a month.

“Well, I guess I’ll stay then,” a pause, “Mom.”

The Lie of Living Your Best Life (now including cookies)

“Smoking marijuana, eating Cheetos® and masturbating does not constitute plans in my book.” – Breaking Bad

In a constantly downward spiral, Kermit finally found the downside in living his best life.

I thought I’d take a bit of a night off, here’s something that many current readers might not have seen . . . .

A few weeks ago my daughter, Alia S. Wilder was in town. We were in the middle of preparing dinner of steak, steak, and more steak for the grill when I saw Alia diving face first into a plate of cookies.

When she came up for air I asked innocently, “I thought you were on the keto diet?”

I did notice a mood change when I was on the keto diet: I got tired of cheese and my only joy in life consisted of watching television shows about murder.

“No, she said, “I’m living my best life.” I could even hear the italics in her voice. It’s amazing how well font choice carries in my kitchen. I think it’s the tile.

John Wilder: “Umm, what exactly does ‘my best life’ mean?” I thought I could tell by context, but I wanted to give her a chance to explain.

Alia S. Wilder: “It’s living your life by being who you are naturally. It’s doing what you want.”

I slowly shook my head. That’s exactly what I thought it was. Cue volcano erupting:

One of the nice things about being a parent is that you can be honest with your children when they are being utterly foolish. This was one of those times.

My first words were: “You know this is going to go into the blog, right?”

Is this why they hold the neighborhood block party when we leave for vacation?

I then started a tirade. As this was the second time that I’d met her boyfriend, you’d think I’d hold back to give a good impression that I was a nice, genteel father who wears cardigan sweaters and puts on loafers and talks to hand puppets as if they were real. You’d be wrong, and I tried the hand puppet thing, but one of my personalities thought it was creepy. No, Mr. Rogers© wasn’t here that night. I let loose with a full broadside worthy of Nelson’s fleet at Trafalgar.

I was a horrible pirate captain. They told me, “The cannon be ready,” and I responded “are.”

“You realize that’s the single stupidest piece of advice you’ve ever been given, right?” I continued, not even having gotten warmed up yet. “It’s the advice a teenager thinks up in the shower and then considers it a deep thought because, well they’re a teenager in middle school, and middle school age children are the single stupidest subspecies ever set loose on planet Earth.” I paused for breath. You need decent lung capacity if you’re going to go into full rage enhanced by spittle.

I continued. “Why is it stupid? Because people are awful. You’re awful. I’m awful. We have to work each minute to NOT do what we’d like, because what we’d like to do, if left only to our own desires is . . . also awful. You, me, every single one of us.”

I could feel the full rolling boil starting.

“Living my best life is the strategy of a three-year-old that wants to eat an entire box of Oreos® at one sitting and then lie about it and blame the poodle. Living my best life combines all of the worst ideas of abandoning duty, honor, and responsibility in only four words: ‘living my best life.’ Oh, I decided not to work today. I’m living my best life. I decided that I would rather spend my money on avocado-flavored non-fat organic vaping juice rather than baby formula. I’m living my best life. I don’t care if I offended you, I have to speak my truth when living my best life. Oh, I’m sorry Western Civilization, we can’t go back to the Moon and advance the human race to the stars because I’m busy shopping. I’m living my best life.”

What came to my mind during this tirade conversation were the words of the dead French scientist, mathematician, religious philosopher and part-time Uber driver Blaise Pascal:

“Man’s greatness comes from knowing that he is wretched: a tree does not know it is wretched. Thus, it is wretched to know that one is wretched, but there is greatness in knowing that one is wretched.”

In this quote when Pascal wrote “wretched,” he meant, “of inferior quality; bad.”

Follow your nose, it always knows. Specifically all about pressure, mathematics, and designing a computer by the age of 19, in 17^th Century France.

Pascal didn’t think mankind was naturally awful, he knew that mankind was naturally awful: prideful, selfish, lustful, mean, and greedy. I’m not sure how Pascal got that idea, maybe he was picked on about nose size when he was in middle school. But he was correct. We’re inferior. But our greatness comes not from that obvious inferior quality, it comes from knowing that you’re awful, and then not being awful.

If we know that we’re awful, we can do something about it. If we think that being awful is okay, that we can live our best life, then it’s an excuse to be awful. In fact, it’s worse than that. Aleister Crowley wrote, “Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the law,” which has been appropriated by the Church of Satan® and correctly interpreted to mean . . . do whatever you want to do.

Apparently living your best life allows you to dress like Dr. Evil on a regular basis.

One particular website (not gonna given ‘em a link, they’re the first one listed when you Google® “living my best life”) has a list, which includes the following gems of personally corrosive advice on how to live your best life (note, my comments are in italics):

Do what you want – let your inner three-year-old make all your decisions.
Speak your truth – not the truth, your truth since hearing the actual, real truth from other people might make you sad.
Practice sacred self-love – and everyone should celebrate you for your sacred self-love since you deserve to live your best life because you suffered so much because of your (INSERT VICTIM STATUS QUALIFICATION HERE).

Not all of the advice on the website was horrible, but most of it was shallower than the gene pool that produced Johnny Depp your typical congressman.

So, under this philosophy, if I’m fat, the problem isn’t that I’m fat and should have fewer cookies: the problem is the world is fataphobic.
If I think I’m a cat, the problem isn’t that I’m delusional: the problem is that the world is transspeciesphobic.
If I think that being an American has nothing to do with the values and norms of the last 300 years: the problem is your problem for being tied to the past.

When the cookies ran out, the monster came out.

So, in summary, living your best life is nothing more than permission to be the very worst person you can be. All that being said, Alia S. Wilder really does make some tasty cookies.

Being Happier: Two Ways

“It’s not the money I’ll miss. It’s just all the stuff.” – The Jerk

What’s the difference between my dog and Amber Heard? My dog has never made a mess on a bed.

Most of the time when people think about being happy, it’s about things that they want to add to their lives. They want to get a new car. To buy a new house. To get a new iPhone®.

That list is mainly about things: stuff. It’s not surprising. $285 billion was spent on advertising in the United States in 2021 (this sounds high to me, but I found it in two different sources). Digital ads alone were over $150 billion of that. And every one of those ad dollars was spent for one reason – to make the person who saw the ad unhappy.

Advertising, to work, has to create enough discontent to make someone pull a wallet out and make a purchase. “Oh, that looks like a great PEZ® dispenser! I’m sad I don’t have it.” And, yet, when I finally get that limited edition Sturmgeschütz (StuG) 40 Ausf. F/8 PEZ® dispenser, I can finally be really happy. Hey, I didn’t choose the StuG life, the StuG life chose me.

Would the StuG have looked better wearing a tank top?

The reality is, though, that it would briefly bring me some joy, and then I’d put it with my Founding Fathers PEZ© dispenser collection that The Mrs. got me for Christmas in 2012, and notice it from time to time. So, in one sense, (some) things that initially bring us joy also just end up cluttering our lives. Oh, I wear my grandfather’s ring daily, but how much do I need to have that Helix® concert t-shirt from 1994?

The purpose of advertising is to make the hollowest promise of all: money for joy. Sure, if I had the choice I’d rather be rich and unhappy than poor and unhappy, because the food is so much better. But unhappy is still unhappy.

Who steals from rich college students to give to poor college students? Ramen Hood.

So, the advertising and “stuff” is a problem. Since I haven’t watched commercial TV in almost three years, most ads I get are fairly poorly targeted online and spur very little discontent, since half the time I’m not even sure what the ad is for anymore. It seems like the current standard for naming companies is to take a noun or verb, mangle it, and add something silly at the end. So when I see an ad for Vomitorius® I have no idea if that’s a food delivery service or a shoe designed specifically for left-handed hermaphrodites.

So, I’m happier here not by addition, but by subtraction. It’s hard to be brought into a state of discontent by ads I never see. Or don’t understand.

What else is making people unhappy?

Another thing that’s driving us nuts is what we’re being sold in popular culture. Popular culture right now seems to be based on some sort of variation on a single, simple theme: if it feels good, do it. And it seems to be getting worse, especially in the last ten or so years.

I got surprised at work by an inspection of the leafy vegetables in the produce department. No one expects the spinach inquisition.

If it feels good, do it is, of course, is a just a version of what Aleister Crowley (a candidate for most unpleasant man, ever) said, “Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the law.” And Crowley appeared to love the darkest sides of humanity. Heck, Crowley was a person that makes Hillary Clinton look like an amateur when it comes to the evil department.

This philosophy has been the driving force in culture for decades because it’s an easy sale – unlimited pleasure: all you have to do is ignore your values. This idea is implanted deep into the media: songs, movies, television, and even the news. Most of the time we don’t notice it for the same reason a fish doesn’t notice water – it’s all around us.

All of the behaviors that come from Crowley’s statement have had a horrible impact. It turns man from a person that reasons, delays gratification, and looks to a set of enduring values into a creature that is driven by the pleasures of the moment, no matter what form they may take or what consequences that might mean. So, I guess that brings Bill Clinton into the equation, too.

What do you get if you cross Bill Clinton and Hillary Clinton? Found in your cell, unresponsive.

Though it might seem like doing whatever we want whenever we want should make people happy, the result is almost always the opposite. True happiness, deep happiness comes from the opposite of the pleasures of the moment.

I’ll give an example: kids.

Kids are awful. They start out as useless blobs of flesh that smell bad. They take too much time. And then it gets worse. The time and emotional investment I have in just my son Pugsley alone has probably cost years of my life. I know it has cost tens of thousands of dollars in food alone, and that was just this week.

And I wouldn’t change any of it, especially now since he’s dropped out of the “being a total tool” phase. Raising kids has been the biggest battle of my life, and has also provided me the biggest rewards and the most happiness.

There is a new workout – you knock on every door in the neighborhood and talk to each neighbor. It’s called, “Jehovah’s Fitness”.

The things that are worthwhile, the things that provide the greatest joy aren’t easy, and you can’t buy them at Amazon®. The important things are difficult. The important things require discipline. The important things don’t happen all at once.

And, generally, the most important things can’t be taken away from you. And no one will remember you for your iPhone©, or your house, or a car.

Well, unless it was a really nice car or house.

28 Things That Make Me Happy

“Happy premise #3: Even though I feel like I might ignite, I probably won’t.” – Bowfinger

Why can’t you make coffee happy? It’s always bitter.

What makes me happy? Oh, sure, like everyone else I love it when Joe Biden falls off a bicycle and want to start a GoFundMe® to buy him a 350 horsepower motorcycle. But beyond that motorcycle, what really makes me happy?

A lot of things. So, the following are a few of them, in an absolutely random order:

Helping people see what they otherwise would not have seen. That’s why I write.
Writing.
Helping people laugh. I stood up in front of several hundred adults when I was in third grade and did a standup routine. It was awful. Why do third graders not do standup? Their material is awful. I have been writing humor since about that time.
A good cigar. I smoke them rarely enough that my insurance company calls me a non-smoker. But sitting down in the hot tub with one and staring out at the peaceful night sky in Modern Mayberry as the coyotes creep out of their dens to howl at sunset?
A good book. I’ve read several this year, and was planning on doing a post about those. Regardless, a book is transformative. I like mine in paper – something about the tactile feel of the book is hypnotic. E-books are convenient, but are less immersive.
A bad book. I generally learn something even from those.

I once mixed a snake with a fruit. I called it a bananaconda.

Cool days. I am really not a fan of summer except at elevations above a mile and a half or latitudes near that of Fairbanks. Winter? Never seen one too cold.
The smooth taste of a cup of coffee in the morning makes me hate waking up a bit less. Don’t get me wrong, I know that I have to get up, and to move from comfort to discomfort if I want to accomplish anything. Coffee is our bitter friend that makes being awake work for me.
Making the world better in big ways. If I can make the world a little bit better for thousands of people I don’t know, awesome. I’ve been lucky enough to do that a time or two.
Making the world better in small ways. I tip well and don’t complain (much) when I go out to eat. Waitresses, even crappy ones, work hard so I don’t want to make their lives harder when for a couple of bucks I can make it better.

Chuck Norris and Superman® wrestled once. Loser had to wear his underwear on the outside of his clothes for the rest of his life.

Being with my family. Good heavens, I love those dunderheads. The thing that family provides is, perhaps, the only lasting legacy that I’ll leave.
I had a friend once who is an Orthodox Priest (I seem to attract priests and clergy – I have no idea why) and he asked me a simple, but profound question, “If you love learning, is that a good thing?” Great question! My only answer that I’ve come up with so far is that to know Truth takes us closer to knowing God. To know what is False tells us what is not God. Still a great question, and I can see the idea that learning can sometimes be a distraction that takes us away from Truth.
Making liars uncomfortable. I have no idea why, but I cannot abide by those that aren’t faithful, and those that lie (there’s a difference). I’ve heard it said that we all lie, and I must admit that in my youth I told a few. I’ve since learned that I cannot escape the Truth so I try to be as faithful to Truth as much as I can be. Has telling the Truth cost me when a lie would never have been caught? Was it worth it? Yes. My honor is clean. It’s not my job to judge, but when I can make them feel pain? I love it.
Good music. What do I like about music? I like optimistic music, music that looks to a future that, while it might mean there’s a fight, means that there is hope. Rock and roll used to be that music before it got whiney.
A good mystery. I love being able to take clues and figure out the real answer. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn’t.

In the 1970s, Led Zep™ went on vacation, so Pink Floyd® tended their gardens. So, Roger Waters Robert’s Plants?

Knowing that the main limitation to what I do in the world is me. I am lucky enough to be able to choose what (mostly) I want to do. Because of that, my choices define my destiny. Not Destiny, that’s a stripper that works down in McMaynerbury.
Camping is a way to get away from the things that make us comfortable. Huh? I thought comfortable was happy? No. Comfortable is comfortable. When camping away from all of the things that mask us from the realities of the basic functions of life it leads me to focus on them, and understand that life in a cold tent in the rain after eating food that was poorly cooked is . . . still pretty good. Comfort isn’t happiness.
Knowing that there is much more on Heaven and Earth than is dreamt of in my philosophy. I believe, as the man said to those dudes in Corinth, we “see through a glass, darkly.” I know that there is imperfection in what I know, and what I understand. I also know that, (at least) as long as I’m alive, I’ll never understand it all. How cool is that!?!? We live in a time and place where we’ll never have all the answers. The game is afoot.
Being on time. I hate being late – I think it shows disrespect to those that you’re meeting. When I’m on time, and not rushed? It’s wonderful. So, I try to do that because it makes me happy.
Sleeping in. I love to sleep in. It’s awesome. What makes it awesome? Getting up early. I hate that – that’s why getting up early is awesome.

Fush u mang?

Knowing that I have to do things that are uncomfortable to grow. Getting up early is one. So, doing things I don’t like, things that are uncomfortable make me happy because I know that’s a chance to grow.
Knowing that the most important thing I’ll ever do is probably in front of me.
Or not.
Fixing something. When something is broken it actively makes me unhappy every time I see it or have to deal with it. Weirdly, I get an outsized amount of happiness in dealing with the things that I fixed or made better.
Starting something. Every start is a new journey. What an adventure!

After reading the dictionary, every other book is just a remix.

Finishing something. Every completion is something in the past, something that I’ve done to my standard. What’s next?
Doing something pure. I used to make models, and sometimes I’d look at the unpainted model and love the purity of the completed plane or tank or starship. I almost hated to paint it. And then when the painting was done? Also awesome. But building something new and perfect is a thumb in the eye of entropy.
Watching my children achieve. Like I said above, my children are perhaps my only legacy. In three generations, most memories of me will likely be gone, so I’ll live on in the world only in the legacy of my children. And maybe that makes me happiest.

Now about that motorcycle. A Harley® or a Ninja™?

It Came From 1982

“The Alan Parsons Project is a progressive rock band in 1982. Why don’t you just name it ‘Operation Wang-Chung’?” – Austin Powers: The Spy Who Shagged Me

A hipster asked me if I liked Indy films, “Sure, I loved The Last Crusade.”

The last time I did a movie list, I did a list based on an entire decade: the 1990s. It was an interesting list, but Aesop made a comment I’ll paraphrase because I’m too lazy to look it up to get the exact quote: “If you did the 1980s, you’d break the Internet.”

And he’s right. The 1980s were, very clearly, a much better decade for movies than any decade since. Before? Probably. There are great movies before and after the 1980s, but I think this was peak movie.

Why? In the 1980s it was very much Reagan’s country: “It is morning in America.” People were starting to feel optimistic after the recession, and people were starting to feel proud again. The movies of the period reflect that. Also, Hollywood® was able to experiment – it didn’t have to get a blockbuster because it invested $600,000,000 in a movie. No, it could do stupid, cheap movies. It could do daring movies. And that let it do exceptional movies. I’m picking 1982, because, like Aesop warned: I don’t want to break the Internet.

Why 1982? Because when I got into the hot tub tonight to smoke a nice Rocky Patel Decade Toro cigar and prepare to write, a video about my favorite movie from 1982 showed up. The following are a list of eighteen movies from 1982 that were better than most movies that show up today. For the most part, they’re in alphabetical order because, again, I’m too lazy to rank them.

But number one for me from 1982 has got to be:

The Thing.

But at least they’ll have lots of pasta to eat down there: penguine.

I had always loved John W. Campbell’s work, and The Thing is one of his best films. No, it doesn’t pass the Bechdel Test where it has women talking to each other. There are no women in the movie. At all. And it kicks ass, so I’m beginning to think the Bechdel Test shows me what movies will suck.

The film featured all practical effects – and that made them more visceral, in some cases literally. Kurt Russell in a beard losing a chess game against a computer and then tossing scotch into the computer from his nearly infinite supply of J&B®. And the result? One of the best action/horror/science fiction movies. Ever. It was considered a flop at the time, and now is considered one of the best movies of all time.

See? That’s why I love the 1980s.

The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas. Burt Reynolds. Singing about whores, in a movie about LaGrange, Texas, which if I believed ZZ Top®, is just filled with whores. With Dolly Parton? No, there’s nothing particularly good about this, but, someone in Hollywood thought it was a good idea.

Blade Runner. Stark. Grungy. Set a few years ago. Everyone was sweaty. Also? Everyone likes this movie more than I do – probably my least favorite Philip K. Dick movie. Bonus? I had a girlfriend who I convinced that she was actually a robot. Dick move? No, a Philip K. Dick move.

This movie begs the question: did they have blow driers in ninja school?

The Challenge. Scott Glenn and Toshiro Mifune in a movie about an American who fights ninja-style with office supplies, and, no, I’m not making that up. Utterly awesome. I believe I am the only person on the continent who liked this movie.

Conan the Barbarian. You’ve all seen it. I had read Conan stories before I saw the movie – I was not particularly impressed, but I had to mention this movie. It featured Arnold after he learned to read, but before he learned to act.

Eating Raoul. The best movie about cannibalistic infidelity for profit I’ve seen. It’s also the only movie about cannibalistic infidelity for profit I’ve ever seen.

Fast Times at Ridgemont High. Little needs to be said about this classic – carrot eating would never be the same in the cafeteria again in 1982. Plus? Sammy Hagar jamming.

Doesn’t anyone knock?

Firefox. Clint Eastwood stealing Soviet jets because he could think in Russian. Special effects don’t hold up, but still fun.

First Blood. Sly making the best Rambo movie before they started to get silly.

Night Shift. There are some actors that should stick to comedy. It may not be a popular opinion, but I think Michael Keaton is one of them. What is it about 1982 and whores? This movie has the lighthearted subject of a morgue turning into a brothel.

An Officer and a Gentleman. It’s like Top Gun, but no flying. Why would you watch this movie? Because you have nowhere else to go.

Poltergeist. The movie that led to making it a law that if you moved a cemetery for a housing development, that you had to movie the bodies, too. Go to the light, Carol Anne!

What do Italian ghosts eat? Spooketti.

Porky’s. This movie was a series of sketches combined with bad jokes and nudity, and those are the redeeming bits. Gets bad when the plot gets in the way. Paging Michael Hunt.

Rocky III. Sly was busy in 1982. But this movie was a good sequel, and probably better than you remember.

Silent Rage. A Chuck Norris movie. It’s not a great movie, but it’s an awesome movie. I know that makes no sense, but neither does this movie. It’s really my favorite Chuck Norris movie – science fiction with karate.

Yup, sittin’ around without a shirt and with my cowboy hat on. Ahhh, 1982, we miss you.

Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan. This is the sequel that saved Star Trek. Star Trek the Motion Picture was a dud. This was not. It was the best Star Trek movie, ever. It had the joy and exuberance of the best of Star Trek TOS, plus a worthy villain and a chess game in space combat. There has been no Star Trek after this that has been nearly as good, and probably few before this.

Tootsie. The Mrs. loves this movie. Me? Once was enough. Bill Murray was my favorite part of this one.

The World According to Garp. This was the best Robin Williams movie, period. I read the novel, and this was a movie that could never, ever be made today.

Young Doctors in Love. Excellent movie that’s nearly unavailable today. Also, taught me how to easily test for diabetes.

Yup, that’s just one year in the 1980s, picked nearly at random.

Good times.