Category: Purpose

Forgiveness, It’s What’s For Supper.

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“The guy in the Easter bunny suit kicked his ass.” – Mallrats

What do Paul the Apostle and Jack the Ripper have in common?  Same middle name.  (memes as found today)

One of my earliest memories was of being a kid at Sunday School, and I think I was probably about four.  I recall the Sunday School teacher giving us crayons and coloring sheets so we could color a picture of Jesus.  I took a bright purple crayon and began coloring Jesus’ face.  The Sunday School teacher came up to me and asked, “Johnny, why are you coloring Jesus’ face purple?  He wasn’t purple.”

I responded, “He’s Jesus and he’s God, so he could be purple if he wanted to be purple.”  I recall distinctly her not responding to that.

See?  Even as a kid I was insufferably smug, and I didn’t even have to mention to her that he never wore pants.

Water isn’t the only thing that Jesus made wine.

For whatever reason, I seem to think that this happened around Easter, which brings us to the topic of rebirth.  Even if you’re not Christian, the idea of forgiveness, sacrifice, and rebirth that is told in the New Testament is a powerful one, even if the story of the Resurrection does contain a lot of cross-referencing.

Forgiveness is a big topic, and an important one.  As the old joke goes, a nun asked a child, “What do we need to do before we ask the Lord for forgiveness?”

“Sin.”

There’s a bit to think about there.  First, it’s not a great joke because it references neither flatulence, Kardashians, nor PEZ®.  But it does have a really good point.

I’ll admit, some mistakes are fun to watch.

First, before forgiveness is the gentle art of screwing up.  And that doesn’t just mean a bad outcome, it more often refers to a loss of virtue, either momentary or prolonged.  Doing the right thing and getting a bad outcome?

I’ve done it, and remain stubbornly proud of those failures.  Of my failures, those are 100% my favorites, like the time I got yelled at for not doing something that was a Federal felony.  Yup, that was my week at that job.

I don’t need forgiveness for that.

Thankfully my boss wasn’t a Kardashian.

The ones where I wasn’t virtuous?  Or, even sinful?  Yeah.  I need forgiveness for that.  YMMV, but I start with the Big Guy, and then work to forgive . . . myself.  The one thing I think I could never get forgiveness for is eating dog – I don’t want to suffer eternal Dalmatian.

It’s important to remember that virtue isn’t a video game – doing things well and virtuous doesn’t guarantee winning.  It doesn’t guarantee happiness.  It doesn’t guarantee living.  In fact, there are times that the virtuous path ends up resulting in guaranteed death.

For some people, that’s hard to hear.  The idea has been drummed into many folks that being rich is a sign of a virtuous life.  My easy counter to that is:  George Soros, whose life is like cancer and syphilis had a baby.

Sometimes people are the same level of dumb as they are Evil.

Is having an easy life a sign that people lived a virtuous life?

If so, explain Jeff Epstein or Bill Clinton.

And actual forgiveness that works requires more than, “God didn’t give me a bike, so I stole one because God helps those who help themselves, so I forgive myself.”

No, sorry.  Forgiveness requires a dedication to be more virtuous, and isn’t an excuse for being a tool.  Otherwise, Sam Bankman-Fried would be considered for sainthood, because I’m sure he meant well.

When memes become reality.

I’ve focused mainly on getting forgiveness, and forgiving myself.  There’s a third aspect, and this is one I’m going to admit that I’m not as good at:  forgiving others.

I’m still working on that.  The Mrs. keeps telling me that if Jesus can forgive the people who put the freak in French fries, I can forgive anyone.  I said, “There is no freak in French fries.”

She responds, “I know.”

Genius or cursed?  I can’t make up my mind.

So, I try to get better at forgiving others.  For me, that’s the hardest part.  But then I remember, that I’ve been forgiven.

I guess I’m a work in progress.  But no one said it would be easy, not even Jesus.  And he can be purple if he wants to.

Happy Easter, He is risen!

What Do You Value?

“I have been in the service of the Vorlons for centuries, looking for you.  Diogenes, with his lamp, looking for an honest man, willing to die for all the wrong reasons. At last, my job is finished. Yours is just beginning. When the darkness comes, know this; you are the right people, in the right place, at the right time.” – Babylon 5

What is the most common question asked by philosophers nowadays?  “Do you want fries with that?”

Diogenes is dead.  When he was up and kicking around, he lived in a wine barrel at the end of town, and often was caught on the streets stark naked.  Sometimes he was, um, enjoying himself.  Oddly, he was also thought of as a respected philosopher.  When I try to emulate him, though, all I get is a restraining order and some embarrassing YouTube® videos.

The reason we remember Diogenes is for two reasons:

First, he invented the chicken nugget, but sadly was unable to invent any tasty dipping sauces.

Second, he walked around making pithy little statements like this:  “We sell things of great value for things of very little, and vice versa.”

It’s a very short, and very wickedly to the point piece of advice.  Frankly, it points out many of the problems we are facing as a society today.

Let’s take consooming for today’s topic.

Hipsters used to burn their mouth on pizza.  They ate it before it was cool.

Billions of dollars are spent attempting to convince people to purchase one product or another.  These advertisements are hard to avoid – and they have one thing in common – a desire to get the consoomer to spend money.  In some cases, the ads provide the ability to match a need with a product.  If I’m cutting down trees using axes and handsaws, knowing that a thing called a chainsaw exists is providing me a real value.  So, ads inform.

But ads also are used to create desire in customers, playing on emotions to drive purchase decisions for things that aren’t needs, but frivolities.  I have plenty of those!  I’m a sucker for some things in particular.  In the sitting room (where I’m typing this now) I look around and see a map I bought as artwork a few years ago.  It shows all the undersea telegraph cables in around 1871.  So very cool!  I walked into the store, saw it, and bought it.  I consoomed.

I can’t cut down a tree with it.  I can’t drive it to work.  It’s just . . . there, stuck to my wall.

I gave The Mrs. a dart and told pointed at the map.  “Where ever it goes, we’ll go on vacation.”  So, we spent two weeks behind the fridge.

Is the map of great value?  No.  It’s a print.  It doesn’t make me better, more complete, important, or accomplished.  We can look in terms of multiple ways to value things.  Dollars are only one.  In this case, the picture cost about what I made in about an hour or two.

Was it worth an hour of my life to own that map?  Yeah, I guess so.  But when I start to value objects that I own, and look at how much of my life I traded for them, my equation starts to change.

If I didn’t spend that hour at work, what could I have spent that hour on?  How could I have changed my life?  Could I have spent more time brushing my teeth, so they were 2.3% brighter?  Should I have spent that time waxing my dog?

Maybe this is why the Kardashians don’t shave?

What did I overlook or not spend time on?  And which of those things might have been more valuable?

I understand that money is important – those who say that money isn’t important haven’t gone without it.  But money isn’t the goal, it’s what can be done with it that’s important.  The true currency of our lives isn’t gold, silver, or even PEZ™.  It’s time.  Each of us on this planet have a finite number of hours left on this rock, and that number goes down by one each hour that we spend.

It goes down by one if I spend it at a job I don’t like.  It goes down if I spend it writing the best post I’ve ever written.  It goes down by one if I’m sleeping.  It goes down by one every hour.

Yes, I know, exercising and other positive things might extend that life, but I’m still going to die.

In the endless summer of a life when I was, say, 12, I didn’t think much about time and how I spent it.  Even then, though, I didn’t try to just “pass the time” since there was so much to do and see and learn in the world.   Now as I’m on the back side of life, I can see that those hours I have left cannot be wasted.

They’re all I have.  And learning is great, but now it has to have purpose.  Will it help me write?  Will it help me crack a puzzle that I can share?  Will it help me with some project I’m working on?

Can it help me change the world?

Again, as I get older, it ceases to be about me.  It’s now about what I can do to help others, how I can help make the world a better place.

You’re welcome.

Thankfully, during my career I’ve been able to do work on things that matter, and have made the world a slightly better place.  If I’m trading my life for my work, I’m glad that it’s work that matters.

Diogenes?  He’s still dead, but he changed the world, just a little bit.  And I can, too.   And so can you.  Time is still all we have, but it’s up to us to make the most of it, each and every day, just like Diogenes showed us.  But, I don’t recommend you do it naked.

Now, I wonder how Diogenes dealt with the restraining orders?

Scott Adams And Two Filters: The Race Filter And The Success Filter. Choose The Success Filter.

“Certainty of death. Small chance of success. What are we waiting for?” – Return of the King

Does it make me racist if I hate the 100 meter dash? (all memes today are as-found)

Scott Adams has been more in the news in the last month than perhaps during his entire career.  I think it’s entirely on purpose, since last summer he ran a poll on Twitter® that noted that at some point he was going to retire, and he had the choice on how he was going to go out.  The winning choice was to go out with a bang.

Most golfers poll as swing voters.

And so he has.  With $50 to $100 million in the bank and after having both his comic strip and his new book deal cancelled, he found something interesting:  he was freer than he ever had been in his life.  He has all the money (none of which was in Silicon Valley Bank™ – his quote, “Why would I put my money in the 19th largest bank?”) and now he can’t lose his book deal.  It’s gone.  He can’t lose his comic strip.  It’s gone.

Scott Adams can say whatever he damn well pleases.

He also seems genuinely interested in helping black people do better.  Since Adams normally tries to look at the world through the lens of “systems” rather than goals, he ended up analyzing the normal system that black people use.  Not surprisingly, he found that the systems that they use are, well, awful.

The results have been abysmal, except for the Race Grifters and politicians on the Left.  But I repeat myself.  And, using their advice, black people are doing pretty horribly.  And they’ve been taught that white people are the problem, rather than anything else that black people are doing.  And it shows.  Here is one of the comments about Scott that I found online after his initial comments:

I don’t think Wildin (no relation) has anger issues, he has an anger subscription.

Black people thinking white people are the problem has obvious advantages for a politician.  I recall when I was in Alaska – the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge (ANWR) was thought to have lots and lots of sweet, sweet oil nestled deep in its rocky bosom.  But both the Left and Right used drilling there as a fund-raising opportunity.  No one really wanted to solve the issue, since Greenpeace® could use it to fundraise from Lefties, and Congresscreatures on the Right could use it to fundraise from ConocoPhillips®.  As long as both sides were unhappy, the money flowed.

The last thing anyone wanted to do was solve the problem.  I think the Right would be just fine if the problem were solved, but the Left makes too much money, and gets too many votes.

But Adams would like to work on the solution, which has nothing at all to do with marinating in past tales of slavery.  Adams graphed it out.  The mindset that the Left has worked to instill in blacks is what Adams calls his Race Filter.  It consists of:

  • Grievance,
  • Critical Race Theory,
  • Group Rights,
  • Spot Racists,
  • Systemic Racism, and
  • Reparations

When wearing Spandex® is a war crime.

I’ve written before about Victimhood.  If you look at Adams’ distillation of the way that race relations have been put forward to blacks, well, they’ve been spoon fed a diet of Victimhood from both their own leaders as well as every “well-meaning” Leftist.

For decades.

The problem with Victimhood is that it is nearly like a self-devouring concept.  It starts to fill every bit of a human soul with greed, envy, hate, and the idea that vengeance is the answer making the person small inside.  That’s why when “how much” is brought up in the context of reparations, the answer is simple:  no number will ever be enough.  For there to be an answer, that would mean that the black people who have given themselves over to Victimhood (and their Grifters and Leftist politicians) would have to let it go.

What do you call a magician without magic?  Ian.

Given the current relationship status, they will never let it go.  Adams made the comment that he would cease “identifying as black” and would avoid black people because of the relative dislike of white people that showed up on the Rasmussen® survey that showed that 47% of black folks didn’t think that “it’s okay to be white.”

The comments that showed up in social media responding to Scott (as shown above) tended to confirm the polls.

But Adams isn’t done.  There is another filter that he suggests can replace the Race Filter – the Personal Success Filter.  I generally use the Personal Success Filter, but I never called it that.  I endorse Mr. Adams’ thoughts entirely, and I’ll spend much more time talking about his success filters than I spent on the Race Filter, since the Race Filter sucks:

  • Replace Grievance with Happiness.

Being happy is generally the easiest thing in the world.  Most people who aren’t happy, don’t want to be happy.  It’s cold out?  I like the cold.  It’s hot out?  What a bright, beautiful day.  Circumstances don’t care about my feelings, so why should I let a flat tire make me mad?  A flat tire just is.

I had a friend in college that I’ll call Greg (because his name was Greg) who got absolutely hammered on a very large quantity of alcohol one night, which wasn’t unusual – our school was known as “a drinking school with a college problem.”  I had class with him the next morning.  I looked at him and was shocked.  He was dressed in slacks and button-down shirt.  I said, “Dang, Greg, you were smashed last night – I thought you’d feel awful.  Yet, here you are, and you look fine.  What’s your secret?”

“Yeah, John, I felt awful when I woke up, so I showered, shaved, and dressed up.  You can’t feel awful when you look great.”

Why not be happy?  Be happy.  It’s like pouring river water in your socks:  it’s easy and it’s free.

  • Replace Critical Race Theory with Gratitude.

I could go back in history and look for all of the things where I was slighted.  Where my ancestors were cheated out of something they deserved.  Where I should be third in line to be King of Wisconsin.  Why?

I’m adopted.  I was adopted by great parents, put in a loving family, and worked like a borrowed horse to make me strong.  I appreciate each and every bit of it.  I’m grateful for even the bad things that have happened to me, because those ultimately made me stronger.

Kierkegaard said that life can only be lived forward, but understood in reverse.  I look back, and I’m grateful for nearly everything that has happened to me.  And you should be, too, because otherwise you wouldn’t be the stunning example of humanity with enough taste, intelligence, and discernment that comes here every week.

What gratitude doesn’t look like.

  • Replace Group with Individual.

As groups we come together to create great things.  If Elon Musk was trying to build rockets, he wouldn’t even be halfway done with his very first one if the tried to go it alone.  So groups have their place.  But when we look to set relations based on groups, we get stupid.  Why would Michael Jordan’s kid be more disadvantaged than me?  Why would Jesse Jackson’s?  Martin Luther King, Jr.’s?

Obviously, they were born with much more privilege than me and more money than me.  Yet, in getting into college, they’d have a huge advantage over me based on just their race.  Hmmm.

When I go to work on a daily basis, I don’t look to what my group does.  I look to what I can do, what I can contribute, what I can write, what I can create.  This makes me more successful.  There is a double-edged sword here, however.  Individual makes me more successful, but faced with a group that hates a group I’m part of?

Again, these are Personal Success Factors.  Group factors may vary, and that’s another post.

  • Replace Spot Racists with Network.

In the Soviet Union, there were huge numbers of jokes (and real stories) about how the Soviets would go to great lengths to spot those that were going to undermine the revolution.  Racism had disappeared in the United States to such an extent that Race Grifters had to come up with nonsense like “microaggressions” and even redefine the word “racist” so that black people couldn’t ever be called that.

I once looked up “opaque” in the dictionary.  The definition was unclear.

It would have been better, however, to find people and make friends with them.  I have dozens of people in my phone that I call or text on a semi-regular basis.  Why?  Mainly because I like them.  I don’t want anything from them other than to be their friend.  Yet, I call them when I need advice.  And they call me when they need advice.  All of my friends plus me are way, way smarter than me.

And I like them.

  • Replace Systemic Racism with Optimism.

Let’s pretend that Systemic Racism exists.  To believe that, you’d have to ignore that 58% of NFL® players are black.  That 35% of assistant coaches are black.  That 72% of NBA players are black.  And the black actors that people pay money to see.  And the black musicians that people pay money to listen to.  And Oprah.  Also of note – race relations appear to be best in the Deep South where black people and white people have somehow figured out a way to live in peace.

If Systemic Racism does exist, it seems like the easiest thing in the world to overcome.  And the solution is Optimism.  Every day I get up thinking that things are going to be okay for me.  And, mostly, they are.  Being an Optimist means I’m disappointed sometimes, but I’m also happy, so I look for the silver lining.  Have I lost a job because of Systematic Racism?  Not that I’m sure of.  But I was told, point blank, that I wasn’t hired for one particular job because I wasn’t a woman.  I was okay with that.  And that place?  Well, it’s shut down now, and if I had started a career there, I wouldn’t have the skills I have today.

Be Optimistic.

Replace Reparations with Reciprocity.

Reparations are nonsense.  Check out the meme for the list of ludicrous demands coming out of California.  Note this:  every one of them is about “how I can get mine” rather than “how can I improve the world for others”.

“Oh, and we also demand matching t-shirts.”

I write these posts not because I get paid.  Indeed, it costs me money to write these posts beyond my time, about $2 a day.  I’m planning on increasing my revenues in the coming year by 200%.  Let’s see, twice nothing is still . . . carry the two . . . still nothing.

Reciprocity means doing things for others, not because they can help you, but because you’re not a tool.  Has Reciprocity helped me?  Absolutely.  But that’s not why I do it.

Conclusions.

I can’t fix black America.  I’m not going to try.  Every one of the black people that I know personally are okay and I get along fine with them.

Adams is trying to fix race relations in America, but I think his efforts will ultimately be futile for several reasons – the drug of Victimhood is stronger than heroin.  It is also certainly not in the interests of the Race Grifters and the Politicians.  Those are two reasons, among many.

What I can do, however is my little bit in the Universe, being a happy warrior fixing what I can, warning when I see dragons ahead.  Scott’s Personal Success Filter is a good one for anyone who wants to achieve.

And, like Scott, I’m not leaving my money in the 19th largest bank.

Oh, wait.  The 19th largest bank is gone.

Note:  Moderation may be tighter than normal (I’ve only nuked 78 out of nearly 21,000 comments)- keep it positive, folks.

Why Adversity And Bullies Are Your Friends

“He’s 28 years old and he can eat a chicken sandwich. Very Impressive. Mike Fitzgibbon’s son is a nuclear physicist, and my son can eat a chicken.” – Freddy Got Fingered

I did hear what Beethoven was up to recently:  decomposing.

Adversity is important.

I’ll give you an example:  if a kid’s life has been one simple task, with no conflict and eating Cheezy-Poofs™ on the couch while Mom brings him chicken tendies and sauce and his only responsibility is making sure he can walk from his room to the bathroom, well, he’s going to be worthless.

Why?  If any little thing goes wrong, the program in the brain that says, “crap goes wrong all the time, figure it out” isn’t there.  It’s never been created.  This is why things like “safe spaces” and “trigger warnings” exist – a life with an utter lack of adversity.  Again, embrace the power of positive bullying.

In my case, school sucked between fourth grade and sixth grade.  Why?  I was the odd man out.  I had moved from one small school district to another when my family moved from Wilder Ranch to our compound Wilder Mountain.  I was alone, for several reasons.  Me?

I retreated into schoolwork.  The teachers were fine.  The kids were bullies, though.  Little kids are okay.  High school kids are okay.  But there is a time in the middle where kids are cruel – kids entering adolescence have developed the ability to be mean, but they haven’t developed the capacity for empathy.  It’s like they’re communists, or Stephen Colbert.  But I repeat myself.

Communists are awful at telling jokes – they don’t stop until everyone gets it.

I also retreated into athletics.  The one place where men of different backgrounds can come together is through additional diversity – athletics.  If you tackle someone so hard that their Mom felt it, you get respect.  And that respect breeds camaraderie.  The new guy?  He hit me so hard I had to check to see if I was standing on the train tracks.

And then?  I was one of them.  I also will admit this – when the kids were bullies, often they had a point.  It was awful to be confronted with my inadequacies and shortcomings in that way, but the only thing worse would be to live in a bubble of pretty little lies, and never be confronted with the raw truth.

I think about kids who go through life and never meet a single challenge.  I’ve interacted with a few recently.  Things go bad for them?  They crumple.  Badly.  They don’t have the ability to fight back.

That’s the problem.

A bully told me I had a face only a mother could love.  Turns out I’m adopted.

I think I’ve related this story before, about a child in a Japanese schoolroom.  In the story, the child (call him Phil, which I assume is a common Japanese name, like Chuck or Dave) looked at a cocoon in the back of the classroom because I assume Japanese people keep those things there along with samurai swords and they all dress like Pokémon characters.

Phil watched the butterfly struggle to get out of the cocoon.  Phil felt sorry for the butterfly, so he helped it open the cocoon.

I guess butterflies just aren’t what they used to be.

The butterfly then plopped straight to the floor, since gravity works the same way in Japan (I hear) as in other countries.  Phil cried.  Because he was a sissy.

The teacher came to the back of the classroom and saw Phil crying.  “Phil, did you help the butterfly get out of the cocoon?”

Phil, crying in the way that only Japanese children do (I have no idea what that means, but I wrote it so I’m going to go with it.  Maybe their tears shoot out in coherent streams, like a squirt gun?) nodded.

The wise teacher put his hand on Phil’s shoulder.  “Phil, the only way that a butterfly can get enough strength to fly, is to struggle against the cocoon.  If it gets out some other way, like a can opener, it can never fly, and will die.”

Phil nodded through the tears.  Then the teacher wrapped Phil up in Ace™ bandages so he could struggle to get out.  I think.  I get fuzzy on the end part, since the idea occurred to me as I got to the end of the story that maybe Kim Jong Un keeps shooting missiles over Japan is so he can keep Godzilla® at bay, and if he stops, well, goodbye Tokyo.

I hear Kim doesn’t date, because he’s focused on his Korea.

The point is still clear – struggle is important.  My friend sent me an embroidered patch:  “The strongest steel is forged in the fire of a dumpster.”  And that’s true.  Struggle is what makes people resilient.  It is what keeps us putting one foot in front of the other when our comrades have stepped aside and given up.

I moved again when I was in junior high.  I joined track, because, why not?  I was a shot putter and a discus thrower, and one day the coach told us, “Go for a run,” because the most lame sport in junior high is track, and the most lame thing in track is shot and disc and I think the coach wanted to avoid association with us.  I had been running up in the mountains because there was nothing else to do because the Internet hadn’t been invented yet, and had been putting in about six miles a day on the mountain roads.  Running was fun.

Is your refrigerator running?  If so, I might vote for it.

So, when we went running, we went for . . . about six miles.  The other shot put dudes couldn’t believe that they’d gone so far.  From that day forward, we were brothers.  We had struggled with the six miles (well, they had, but I encouraged them onward).  Struggling together, and winning, creates a bond.

On this second move, I was in with the guys in about two weeks.  “Wilder?  The new kid?  He’s okay.”

We will have challenges.  All of us.  Some of them are awful.  One of them will, in the end, kill me.  That’s okay.  I look at these challenges and resolve that I will not be afraid.  I already know that I’m going to win against all of them but one, so I might as well go into that future as a happy warrior, knowing that my winning streak will eventually end.

Whatever challenge you’re going through will end.  And you’ll win.  Unless you die, in which case I think you should blame Phil.  After all, adversity is our real strength.

But I’m not going to lose today.  And not tomorrow, either.  Though chicken tendies do sound nice.

Your Limits: Are They Real? Or Can You Do More?

“A man’s got to know his limitations.” – Magnum Force

I’ve heard coffee is bad, but O.J. will kill you.

Knowing yourself is important.  There are two aspects of that that aren’t considered enough – knowing what you can do, and knowing what you can’t.  In practice, since abilities define a large part of who I am, knowing these limitations and abilities is crucial.

To start off, I have a list of things that I know I’ll never, ever, be good at.  When I was in junior high, my music teacher tried to convince me that everyone could sing.  Then he heard me and began noting that the Geneva Convention probably outlawed me singing, and also that he was wrong – some people can’t sing.  So, I’ve known since I was very young that however much I might like to sing, I will never, ever be able to.

Strike that – I can sing, I’ll just never be able to sing in a manner that other people find pleasant.

Other things are also off limits.  Basketball, for one.  I have been graced by genetics with a very powerful frame that gains muscle very easily.  My body is suited for trudging through snow, chasing priests, rowing longboats, forming a shield wall, and general pillaging.  Basketball?  If I can tackle people that might work out.  Basketball with an axe or a sword?  Even better.

Knowing what I absolutely can’t do is important.  It prevents frustration.

Are Viking Christians Bjorn again?

The next category is things I can do that are easy.  Now, many of the things that are easy for me are hard for other people.  And as I grow older, I find that things that used to be easy are becoming not so easy.  This pattern will continue, up and until a thing that used to be easy (breathing) will cease to be easy.  It will be difficult, and loud.  And hopefully someone will make the joke, “oh, Wilder’s just venting.”

But easy is still important.

Then there are the things that I can learn to do.  Taking great pictures is one, and I was working on that, trying to get the right light at the right time.  I still have a lot to learn, because the teacher kicked me out of class for indecent exposure.  All kidding aside, I’m okay at photography, but haven’t spent the time to be great at it, but I can picture getting good at it.

One time I thought I had a “long distance relationship”, but she called it a “restraining order”.

Learning is crucial.  It is the thing that can multiply capabilities, and when they’re used for something important, it can work wonders.  When those capabilities are used for nothing important, it’s the same as multiplication in the real world – it amounts to nothing.

That’s important.  Learning can make us better.  The last category is, in my opinion, where the magic happens:  things I can do, but I think I can’t do.

Like I said, this is the magic.  I had one boss who believed in me even more than I believed in me.  On more than one occasion, he said to me when he gave me a task that I thought was impossible, “Wilder, you can make this happen.”

My boss at the suicide hotline asked me to be a bit less positive.

Nine times out of ten, he was right.  So, nine times out of ten he knew and mentored me to do more than I thought I could do.  That is either the definition of a great boss or a psycho.  In this case, he was a great boss.  The downside?  He set ten impossible goals for himself before breakfasts, too.  In one of those cases, he was wrong.  As I recall, it only cost a few billion (really, not making this up) to the company.  It wasn’t fraud, mind you, he just wasn’t able to do what he thought he could do.

Obviously, he was fired.  And then he managed to make another billion dollar company and make himself several tens of millions in the process.  Even the thing he screwed up still is worth billions.

All because he didn’t allow those that he worked with to limit themselves.

Looking back, the biggest mistakes I made were in overly limiting myself.  When I look at some other friends, I see the same, not swinging for the fence when they had it all.  When I get those phone calls or texts, from the outside it’s generally a trivial call to give advice because I can see the capabilities of my friends and I believe in them.

Sometimes more than they believe in themselves.

The Mrs. has a simple test to see if a cat is a psycho.  “Is it a cat?  It’s a psycho.”

Am I done?

No.  I still have a goal – I want to kick a dent in the Universe.  I think I can.  If my old boss was right, it’ll be a bigger dent than I think it will be.  I’m really hoping that it isn’t the Russian’s weaponizing my singing to use in the Ukraine.

Some things are more horrible than war.

Red Pill? Blue Pill? What About The Green Pill?

“This is your last chance. After this, there is no turning back. You take the blue pill – the story ends, you wake up in your bed and believe whatever you want to believe. You take the red pill – you stay in Wonderland and I show you how deep the rabbit hole goes.” – The Matrix

What happens if they try to get a new actor to play John Wick?  Keanu leaves.

The movie The Matrix is a classic.  Too bad they never made a sequel or three.  I’m sure they would have been fantastic.  Imagine taking the adventures of Neo™ beyond that big battle with Mr. Smith®!

Regardless, The Matrix did include several ideas that have made their way into the main stream, and stayed there.  The biggest, perhaps, is the idea of The Red Pill and The Blue Pill.  In the movie, Neo© is given the choice of taking The Blue Pill, which will allow his version of reality, the things he knows, to remain, even though they are founded on pretty little lies.

I’ll admit, The Blue Pill is attractive.  It’s comfortable.  But it is, in the end, a lie.  I imagine that since you’re here, lies aren’t the thing that motivates you and more than they motivate me.

If Bill Cosby had played Morpheus, I think he would have pushed the blue pill.

The alternative is The Red Pill.  The Red Pill is the The Truth.  The problem with The Truth is that it’s ugly.  The world we want to believe in is in The Blue Pill, because those lies speak to us so clearly.  When I first took the Red Pill on a particular subject, I felt betrayed.  Here was an entire line of propaganda that I had been fed since I was a child – it was a part of my base programming.

That’s the problem with The Red Pill.  Once I took it, I began to question everything.  Like a potato chip, you can’t have just one.  And once I began looking, I found even more to question.  That was difficult, because I had to reevaluate where I was wrong.  And what ideas I had were built around those incorrect ideas.

The Red Pill is demoralizing.  It’s not pleasant to have to reevaluate basic beliefs, especially those that comforted me and that I now know are wrong.  In part, this website is about that.  It’s looking at the things I think I know, and trying to distill what is true.  On more than one occasion, a post was nearly complete when I found an inconvenient fact.

In algebra class, people always thought I was plotting something.

That meant I was wrong.  That meant my post was wrong.  In one sense it sucks because it kept me up later to write something else.  But it never upset me, because I had learned something new, and was a bit closer to The Truth.

A key to getting through The Red Pill is to embrace The Truth, and improve.  However much.  A little each day is enough.

I suppose you could call that The Green Pill.  Or, for weightlifters, The Iron Pill.

So, which one makes me The Hulk if I’m angry?

It’s the idea that instead of being upset that the world isn’t the way that I want it to be, I don’t focus on that, at all.  Instead, I try to focus on improving myself.  Not a lot, just a little each day.  Can this post be better?  Can I get stronger?  Can I get in better shape?  Can I learn another useful skill?

Life is nothing without difficulty.  There is no honor in fighting weak opponents.  I mean, I could spend my day boxing three-year-old kids.  But my arms would get tired.  Unless there weren’t that many, or if they were all especially weak three-year-olds.  Like vegan-weak.

No, for a victory to have meaning, the challenge must be sufficient.  It would have to at least be boxing six-year-olds.  Or, maybe helping the world, or even one person, see what they normally would never have seen.

I had a globe on my desk, and met the guy who made it.  It’s a small world.

I have to have a quest.  The grander, the better, and I even live with and am comfortable that I won’t live to see the ultimate impact that I have on the world.  That’s fine with me.  Small pushes, over time, change the world.

Never let The Red Pill get you down.  The real choice, even in a world gone mad, is to keep our virtue, and never to give up in making ourselves better, and to improving what we can, even if it’s only a little.

The Red Pill is difficult to swallow, but it is a gift, and victory in finding and spreading The Truth is the challenge that fuels me, and is way less tiring than fighting either endless streams of toddler or endless streams of Agent Smith.

Dang.  Sure wish they had made a sequel to The Matrix.

Want to win? Have a good wife.

“Are you drunk?”  “It’s my birthday.  Again.” – The Experts

I ate an abacus – it’s inside what counts.

So, it’s St. Valentine’s day.  Again.

For this year, I decided to go into the deeply romantic box of ideas, and got The Mrs. a bottle of scotch.  Not great a great bottle of scotch, because that’s what I always give her for Christmas (saves on thinking, gents).  Well, this wasn’t a great bottle, but it was also not something you’d use for lighter fluid, either.

Not that The Mrs. won’t drink lighter fluid (don’t ask me about that story!), but because The Mrs. sounds like Kim Carnes afterward.  Anyone else but me listen to Bette Davis Eyes and not think “Marty Feldman Eyes”?

Regardless, here is why I enjoy my time with The Mrs.  As a part of our conversation, we discussed the evolution of modern warfare from the United States Civil War, and World War I.  In it, I brought into play the idea that the Germans had totally melted the minds of the French.

Why do French ghosts smell so bad?  They are covered in sheet.

Why?  Let’s go back to the Franco-Prussian war.  Not Franco-American®, because there were far fewer Spaghetti-O’s® back in 1870.  And Chef-Boyardee™ was still Chef Notbornyet.  Sorry for the digression – it turns out that I bought The Mrs. some scotch, but she bought us some wine.  And by us, I mean me and her, not you and me and her.

Our conversation wandered, and I pointed out the reason the French were such wussies was because of the Franco-Prussian war.  It seems, the French had a far superior rifle, the Chassepot (pronounced “frog hat spinner” because the French don’t even pretend that letters have meaning).  This means that the German soldiers had to attack (they’re Germans, they’re always attacking) for 200 yards (17.3 kiloPascals) while being shot at with relatively accurate rifles before their rifles could shoot back.

You’d think this would mean an easy French victory.  Nah.  The Germans were surrounding Paris within weeks, because, always remember the first dictum:  the French can only win a war in which all of their opponents are French.

Then, The Mrs. demanded (on Valentine’s Day) that we watch either a documentary on WWI or All Quiet on the Western Front (new version, which I had not seen yet).  I bring this out not for any other reason than to brag.  Chocolates?  Flowers?  Nah.  Scotch.  Rom-coms?  No.  The Mrs. demanded we watch a war movie.  It’s like Christmas and we talk about the geopolitics of WWII and The Mrs. demands we watch Patton.  Again.

I found a corpse along the road with no arms, head, or legs.  The local police are stumped.

This isn’t entirely bragging, since this is Wednesday and we’re supposed to talk about money.  How do war movies, moderately priced scotch, and romantic discussions about warfare have anything to do about money?

It has everything to do about money.  Everything.

Women can make or break a marriage.  Modern societies, especially in the United States, give women an out, and incentivize them to break up marriages for fun and profit.  Don’t believe me?  Here’s a Tweet® from a Twunt©:

When I first read this, I thought it was sarcasm.  It’s not.  I feel sorry for her wine and cats.

Yeah, she said that.  It’s an awful sentiment that an elected official could say that and remain in office.  I’m beginning to understand why they burned witches at the stake, and becoming much more amenable to that idea.  After a fair trial, of course.  I’m not suggesting that South Dakota do summary executions, but I am suggesting they bring back witch burning.

The economics of the love in 2023 are heavily skewed against those who would love.  In my mind, love is the glue that holds the atom of civilization together.  That atom?  The family.  And no matter how you slice it, there is no world where two women or two men can have actual children, so they cannot form the nucleus of the family.  Unless cats are children.

The economic incentives right now are against child rearing.  It’s amazing to see the number of criminals with no fathers in their lives.  It’s amazing to see the number of children coming from “blended” (i.e., divorced parent) families.  Here in Modern Mayberry, about (Pugsley’s guess) 65% of the kids come from intact, two-parent families.

In my mind?  That’s a number that’s amazingly low.  Sure, I was adopted, but I was adopted into a family where my Mom and Dad had been married for 26 years before I was adopted and The Mrs. family was stable for 61 years until The Mrs. father passed on.  Sure, my family had ups and downs, but their marriage was approximately as stable as helium or the Democrat’s hold on counting votes.  Neither of Ma Wilder or Pa Wilder needed nor wanted surprises.

What they call Frodo if he had lost a leg instead of a finger?  A Hoppit.

Today?  Husband won’t agree to a new dining room table?  Divorce him.  Most divorces are initiated by women.  Because?  They’re unhappy.  I understand that’s a reason, but it’s not a good reason, since, until the caffeine kicks in around 11am each day, I’m unhappy, too, and you don’t see me firebombing Dresden.

But those are the women who even bother to get married.  There’s a deeper pathology here.

What incentive to men use to improve themselves, to work harder, to get into shape, to earn money?

The prospect of wife and family.  If that isn’t there, why bother?  It’s easier to eat Cheetos® and play Call of Duty™:  Ukraine™ on their PS3©.  I’ll admit that this isn’t an attractive mate, but is it any different than a 34-year-old women who has had sex with 143 guys?  Women think their value shouldn’t be based on the number of sexual partners they’ve had, but, dudes, who wants to own a pair of shoes owned by 143 other dudes?

Yeah.  No one.

The structure of incentives is important.  Right now, men are incentivized to eat Cheetos™ and play vidya games.  Right now, women are encouraged to have sex with all the men, and then try to find someone after they’ve gone had sex with all the men, gone to graduate school, lost their fertility, and bonded with wine and cats.

Ugh.

Economics is about incentives.  Give incentives to women to not marry and then divorce at the slightest provocation?  Men will turn into Tostito® munching morons.  It’s simple.  And then both will be sad.  The 45 year-old wine aunt?  She’s not happy, she’s just out of options.  The 30 year-old man-boy?

He’s just looking for a wife, children, and to make a place in society.  That’s it.

Not pictured:  The Mrs.

I’ll say this again – my Gen X road was easier than the Zoomer and Millennial kids.  A young man faces women that are hostile.  That turns him into a man that’s not prepared.  If I might make a modest proposal, let’s bring back shame for women.  And let’s bring back pride for men.

Seems like a fair deal.  And, honestly, the best St. Valentine’s Day present that they could have.  Unless their wife demands they watch a war movie before sending them out to smoke a Rocky Patel® cigar in the hot tub so they can finish watching the documentary about the Franco-Prussian War after having a few glasses of wine and scotch.

Hope you had a Happy Valentine’s Day!

Never Lose The Battle For Your Mind

Bah! Your planet doesn’t deserve freedom until it learns what it is not to have freedom. It’s a lesson, I say!” – Futurama

What did they call George Washington’s teeth?  Presidentures.

“So, John, after I explained it, do you agree with me?” asked Captain Assholay.

“No, no I don’t,” I responded.

He looked frustrated.

The other details of the conversation were and are relatively unimportant, but the boil down to those two sentences.  The fact that the person asking the question was my boss is pertinent, since, well, Captain Assholay was (years and years ago) my boss.

As bosses go, I’d rank the Captain near the bottom of the ones that I’ve had.  I think he was borderline retarded, and I can say that word because it’s my blog, and I’m bringing it back.

One of my previous bosses was a man that reportedly lost the family fortune by punching a punter for the Green Bay Packers® who sued him and won because he couldn’t play anymore.  I guess punters are fragile.  On another occasion (while drinking) he mentioned that he threatened a witness in a felony trial so he’d leave the state and not be able to testify.

Captain Assholay?  Worse than that guy.

Alternate caption:  “Well, Forrest, there’s cheddar cheese, fried cheese, cheese sticks, cheese curds, cheese slices, cheese doodles, melted cheese, cheese dip (continues for three days) . . . that’s all the cheeses I know.”

But these two sentences encapsulated the relationship I had with Captain Assholay – his question was whether or not I would change my opinion.  I would not.

Neither would I lie about it.

I’ve followed a fairly simple pattern in my life:  when I’m working for someone, if they ask me to do something that is within my capabilities, and it’s not illegal, immoral, unethical, and doesn’t conflict with my values, I do it.  Even if I don’t like it.  Even if it sucks.  That’s why it’s called work, and not a hobby.

This, though, was different.  In this case, I was asked to conform my thoughts and agree with my boss.  If he told me to do something (again, nothing illegal, immoral, unethical, and not conflicting with my values) I would do it.  But the space he doesn’t own is in my head.

To me, agreeing with the Captain merely because he was my boss is something I couldn’t and wouldn’t do.  I’ll hold my tongue.  I’ll support silly things.  But my mind?

I own it.

My other friend makes wigs.  It doesn’t pay much, just enough toupee the bills.

I’m not sure Captain Assholay understood that.  Heck, I’m not sure he had the capacity to understand it.  But it’s not my job to raise him.  One (much better) boss of mine had a saying, “Right or wrong, the boss is the boss.”  That is true, and soon enough, we ceased working together.

I don’t send him Christmas cards.  Okay, I don’t send anyone Christmas cards, but if I did, I would not send him two cards.  My joy in thinking about him is that I do know that karma is real, and that the German word for empathy is schadenfreude.

Even though I’ll enjoy (at some point) hearing about his sudden but inevitable downfall, that’s not the point of this post.  The point of this post is about the latter part:  there are things other people can buy from me.  My time.

But they can never, ever, buy my soul.  They can never buy my integrity.  They can never buy my values.

He also joined a poetry club.  So far he’s made some ashtrays and a nice vase.

Life is about a series of compromises.  Anyone in a long-term relationship realizes that.  In fact, I’m pleased that The Mrs. has learned that if I promise to fix something around the house, I will, and she doesn’t need to nag me every six months until I actually get it done.

I couldn’t lie to the Captain.  Why?

I’ve given that some thought.  One idea might have been pride, but that’s not it.  I’m not much about things like that – the last time I washed one of my cars was sometime when Clinton was president.  So, that’s not it.

It was deeper.  And I look to my growing up, and the stories.  Would the heroes I read about have yielded?  Would Alexander?  Would Patton?  Would Richard Dawson?

No.

While I will render unto Caesar what is Caesar’s, there are things that are simply not for sale, and never will be.  I will face the world that is being born knowing that.

“All I want for Christmas is Gaul.”

I don’t recall exactly where I read it, but the difference between the Mafia and Leftists is that the Mafia doesn’t care if you agree with them, as long as you pay.  Leftists?  You must pay, and you must agree, and you must humiliate yourself if you ever disagreed.  They will settle for nothing less.

The only answer is to never give in.

Ever.  Understand where the line is, and never, ever let it be crossed.  Even if you aren’t religious, understand that the battle is for your soul.

And you will be tested.

And you are not alone.

I saw my ex-wife get hit by a bus, and thought, “Man, that could have been me,” but then I remembered I don’t know how to drive a bus.

And that is the first step and the final step of winning.  If you don’t compromise, there will never be a one-way trip on a train.  Be free:  never give the space in your head, never give up your values or virtue.

Especially not to Captain Assholay.

D’Oh, Canada: Showcasing The Leftist Plan So We Can Plan, Too

“I’d like to share a revelation that I’ve had, during my time here. It came to me when I tried to classify your species and I realized that you aren’t actually mammals. Every mammal on this planet instinctively develops a natural equilibrium with its surrounding environment, but you humans do not. You move to an area and you multiply, and multiply until every natural resource is consumed. The only way you can survive is to spread to another area. There is another organism on this planet that follows the same pattern. Do you know what it is? A virus. Human beings are a disease, a cancer of this planet. You are a plague, and we… are the cure.” – The Matrix

Greta is the solution to climate change.  Every time she’s on the TV, tens of millions of people shut it off.

Apparently, Justin Trudeau up in Canada needs to be reminded that in the movie, The Matrix, Agent Smith was the bad guy.  Really.  Check it out.  Keanu Reeves fought him, and everything.  For whatever reason, Canada (and Leftists in general) have adopted the idea that Agent Smith was their dude and the inspiration for their philosophy.

In two words, their philosophy is self-hatred (does the hyphen make it two words?) and power.  I’ve established that again and again.  It is why (really) I’m in favor of bringing bullying back.  As a society we let losers do loser things, give them participation medals, and then after having zero incentive for self-improvement, they wonder why they’re not the head of the class.

I was bullied in school.  I deserved it.  I used it to get better, stronger, and faster.  I’ve even seen communications between Leftists where they advise each other not to exercise because exercise leads them to become members of the Right.

God, I wish someone had bullied Justin Trudeau so that he would have developed into a man, rather than the corporate globalist man-child with no sense of identity and a sense of entitlement the size of Canada.

Okay, this is supposedly a Photoshop®.  But, admit it, it wouldn’t surprise you if it was real.  And this is my only original meme for this post.  Rest are “as found”.

This brings us to Canada’s plan for self-immolation – “Just Transition”.  Just Transition refers not to Justin finally admitting he’s transitioning, but rather the “teenager’s idea of a good plan because climate is scary” transition from fossil fuels to, well, they don’t really say.  It can’t be too much solar, because, last time I checked, in the winter in Canada at northern latitudes, the SUN IS DOWN MOST OF THE DAY.

That probably doesn’t bother Sunshine Trudeau, since he will be in some mansion somewhere pretending to be Queen Victoria’s seat cushion.  But I’m thinking that ordinary Canadians, the ones who have to deal with this nonsense and will either freeze or starve, might have an objection.

Another Just Transition that probably wouldn’t surprise Canada.

The plan itself contemplates that at least 200,000 Canadians will lose their jobs, which will certainly hurt the back bacon and Elsinore Beer prices.  These 200,000 Canadians are in the energy industry.  What will replace that?

Don’t know.  This Just Transition plan, again, has nearly zero actual thought by adults who have more than a single functioning brain cell.  It is built on those old Leftist thought patterns:  self-hatred and a desire for power.  Why would people need light and heat?

Alberta is not a hot girl who has daddy issues and is thus a stripper with a heart of gold, but rather a Canadian province.  I guess that means admitting I’ve been in Alberta sounds a lot less dirty when I put it that way.  But Alberta does have a heart of gold, because they’re pushing back, hard, against the nonsense coming out of whatever town where Trudeau lives.  Ottawa?  Heck, I thought that was a river mammal.  Turns out Ottawa is where the bad things come from in Canada.

Maybe it will work this time?

Canada planning to destroy its own economy just to gain good boy points and score some additional chicken tendies at dinner isn’t unusual under the Trudeau leadership.  The main problem with Canada is that it doesn’t have an actual constitution with a bill of rights that puts a brake (no matter how fleeting) on tinpot dictators with delusions of godhood exercising their will.

Looks like Justin’s dad had the same idea.

Alberta, however, seems to have had enough.  The nice part of Canada is that they haven’t yet had a Civil War, and it would appear that the individual provinces seem to be able to tell the national government to go to, well, Ottawa.  Or at least the subject hasn’t been settled by armies yet.

It’s not just energy, it’s food, too.  We’ve seen the protests in the Netherlands.  Why?  They want to shut down the farms.  Why?  To stop climate change.  Canada has promised to do the same thing.  Look it up, search, “Canada nitrogen” – and I remember when I thought Canada Dry® was a national menace.

I’m not making this up:

And this a consistent Leftist theme:

Why do they want to shut down the use of fertilizers?  It’s not climate change, it’s food.  The Mrs. once read a story of a party in Washington, D.C.  At this party, the writer noted that he had a conversation with a Leftist.  I’d give you a source if I recalled it, but it was several beers ago.  “Too many people on the planet, by several billion,” the Leftist said.

“What are you going to do about it?”

“Well, we will practice food restriction.”

“So, you’re telling me that the Leftist plan is to starve to death billions of people?”

They were silent when the bald fact was put to them like that.  So, yeah, Justin is working to ruin the economy of Canada.  But he won’t be sad if millions starve, in fact, that’s the plan.  I’m not sure Justin is smart enough to figure that out, since I’m pretty sure he’s just a lapdog of below-average I.Q. who wasn’t bullied enough as a child.

Canada has, unwittingly, provided people in the United States with a viewpoint of what the Left intends.  Watch closely.  And pray for the Canadians who will oppose this, in Alberta and elsewhere.

Hopefully, the folks in Alberta are very good at dealing with rats.

And remember, Agent Smith is the bad guy.  And he lost.  And the Leftists will lose, as they always have in history.  But I’ve never said that any of this will be easy.

Related:

Ricky sent me this video, and I can’t recommend it enough.  A few “s” bombs, but otherwise it should be required viewing from elementary schools on up.

What We Can Learn From The French Revolution: The Vendée

“There was nothing spooky about the French Revolution. People lopped off with the heads of thousands of aristocrats and carted them away in straw baskets, then turned the blades on themselves and killed thousands more. Just another segment of Western History.” – Kolchak, The Night Stalker

The French Revolution was a pain in the neck.

The French Revolution was the first major Leftist revolution in the world.  The ideology of the Revolution was stunning in its scope.  Not only was every single structure of the country to be changed, but even its history.  Nothing was sacred – especially the churches and clergy.  Notre Dame was renamed the Temple of Reason, though recently it was a really hot tourist attraction.

Additionally, something as simple as the calendar wasn’t exempt.  1792 was proclaimed as year one.  Each day was 10 hours long.  Each hour was 100 minutes long.  And each minute was 100 seconds long.  Of course, the week wasn’t spared – each month consisted of three 10 day weeks.  Yeah, they renamed the days of the week, too, and managed to eliminate both Friday and Saturday.  Bogus.

The names of the months were changed, too.  There were still 12, since the French could not figure out how to change the amount of time it took for the world to revolve around the Sun.  My favorite French month?  Ventôse, or the “month of wind” which lasted between February 19 to March 20.  The Ventôse Decrees (I assume issued during this “month”) legalized confiscation of everything counterrevolutionaries owned and redistribution to “needy” people.  One would assume that the leadership was just as “needy” as the Biden family.

What’s the best way to kill lots of communists?  Communism.

This was also the time when the Republic decided that the old way of measuring things needed to be chucked, too.  So out went feet and gallons and pounds and in came meters and liters and kilograms.  So, if you ever hear me talk about communist units, well, here’s the reason.  The metric system was just another part of the Leftists attempting to subvert all of history.

Oh, and they pulled down statues, too.

It’s as if there’s something familiar with what I’m seeing with the woke crowd in the United States.  Hmm.  Whatever could it be?

Regardless, there are some other events that happened during the French Revolution that are less known.  The item that’s the subject of today’s post?

The Vendée.

The Vendée is an area of France.  The French have lots of names for these areas, many of which sound like Joe Biden clearing his throat before a speech.  Let’s just stick with area or region, that’s close enough.

Why is the French flag blue, white, and red?  So that they can rip off the sides and surrender.

Not long after the French Revolution, the people running France realized that they were surrounded by hostile countries that were headed by Kings.  When King Louis XVI was guillotined in 1793, the people who ran the French Republic were pretty freaked out and worried that they were going to be invaded by groups of Kings that weren’t fond of the whole, “kill your leader because it’s Tuesday” concept.

That’s when they decided to have a general draft to build a French army with 300,000 new additional recruits. Many areas fought back against this draft, since, outside of Paris, the whole, “kill the King, destroy religion, and start a war” policy of the Commies in charge of Paris wasn’t especially popular.

One area, though, was really good at fighting back.  The Vendée.  It’s on the western shore of France, and is notable for making that invisible rope that French mimes use as the primary regional product.  Like I said, they fought back well – they wanted to be left alone and to reopen their churches.  The army that was formed, the “Catholic and Royal Army” was initially very successful for several months in spring and summer of 1793.

The Popemobile is cool, but let me see you try to fly in a Papal airplane.

From a military viewpoint, they were very successful, at first.  Early in may they captured over 5,000 Republican troops.  They asked them to leave and promise not to fight against them anymore.

And then released the Republican troops.

This may have been a mistake.

Again, through May and June they kept winning, capturing lots of Republican cannons, powder and supplies.  Until they lost.  The Republicans captured quite a few folks from the Vendée Army.  And shot them or put them in boats and drowned them.

By October of 1793, the Committee of Public Safety in Paris decided that the solution to the Vendée was complete physical destruction.  After the defeat of the Vendée army in December, the revenge started.  The Republicans were not shy about what they wanted.

When one commander asked what he should do about women and children, the response was simple, “if it was necessary, to pass them all by the sword”.  The women were of particular interest, since they would be carrying anti-revolutionary babies.

Yeah.  Dark.

The invention of the shovel was groundbreaking, but it was the broom that really swept the nation.

The Vendée folks paroled their prisoners.  The Leftists?  Murdered them.  For the people in the Vendée, it got worse.  Some people from the Vendée got together with the British and the British funded and supplied a really lame invasion of France.  It failed.  Spectacularly.  The French might not like each other, but one thing was for certain – the French, I mean, all the French, hate the British.

This didn’t help the Vendée with the rest of the French.  Public relations level?  Disaster.

The Vendée had about 800,000 folks living in it prior to the French Revolution.  The Leftists killed, for the sake of ideological reasons, between (best sources I can find) 250,000 to 400,000.  This is about 1.5% of the population of France at that time.  That’s proportionately like losing half the population of Pennsylvania, Illinois, Ohio, Georgia, North Carolina, Michigan, New Jersey, or Virginia.

This proves, once again, that the only people that the French can beat in a war is the French.  It also proves, once again, that when Leftists run a country, the first priority of business is to kill their own people who aren’t on board with the Left.

Regardless, this didn’t stop the people from the Vendée.  They kept fighting, and were even a thorn in the side of Napoleon in 1814.

I asked my friend how things were going in Moscow.  He said, “I can’t complain.”

The Vendée made me think of the United States today.  It is easy to see the parallels – the full attack on every value.  The attempt to destroy everything from the past is in full force now.  The removal of the statues is part of the playbook.  The vilification of the values and heritage people?  Also part of the playbook.

Where is the Vendée in the United States?  Oklahoma?  Ohio?  Missouri?  It is clear that the values of the Left do not match values of many.

What happens when a line is crossed?  When the gun confiscation comes in?  If the Vendée acts alone, it fails.  If it’s not alone?  It wins.

You are not alone.  Nor is Oklahoma, or Missouri, or Ohio, or Texas, or Idaho.

This isn’t 1793, and we don’t cotton to the metric system.  Me?  I’ll never accept the metric system because I don’t want a foreign ruler.