Category: Purpose

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.

A.I., Hot Chicks That Don’t Exist, And All The Trolley

“What’s the point of buying a toaster with artificial intelligence if you don’t like toast?” – Red Dwarf

Some tools are more dangerous than others.

This post will be meme-heavy, but none of them are my memes.

A.I. has been changing things a lot during our lifetimes.  Like anything related to knowledge, it builds on itself over time.  Yes, I know that it’s not “real” A.I., but these systems are certainly smart enough to have a huge impact on the way that the world is working now.  The latest big change has been in art.  A.I. has made major leaps in being able to create art.  Here are several examples:

You either get these two or you don’t.  Here’s a hint:  look up Apu Apustaja.  The amazing thing is that these are both A.I. generated – they’re superficially images of one thing, but are really intended to be another.  Amazing!  Is it art?

Um, yeah.  The capabilities are beyond that.  For instance, outside of pictures, this woman doesn’t exist.  She’s entirely computer generated:

A.I. can even take drawings of memes and then make the photorealistic:

I have no idea what kind of TED talk we’d get on this picture.

But this is what A.I. can generate from the same meme format.

This will, of course, soon bankrupt many artists.  A similar thing happened when Google® Translate™ started up.  Even with bad translations, it was enough for most needs.  The prices for actual humans who could translate from one language to another plummeted.  A bad solution will crater the prices for a better substitute.  In this case, A.I. is dramatically different and can create art in a fashion that even skilled artists would take days or weeks to accomplish.

This isn’t done.  There will be more displacements as A.I. improves.  In some cases, it will allow amazing new creativity:

In other cases, it can’t come soon enough:

But what happens when we switch the subject to the trolley problem?  The trolley problem is an older one.  It usually is set up so there is a dilemma.  In the classic form, it was set up so that the observer could either allow a trolley to kill several people, or, through action, kill only one.

The rub is that to save several people, the observer has to make the decision to kill someone who would otherwise be safe.  It’s one thing to watch people die who I couldn’t save, but it’s entirely another to condemn someone to death to save others.  Tough, moral choice.  Let’s see what the A.I. said when asked about saving a baby or a bunch of old people:

Okay, the A.I. can count, and make the decision to save more people.  It might not be the decision that you or I would make, but at least we can understand it.  But what about this gem?

Yup.  The A.I. can only count when it has been allowed to.  It was decided that A.I. couldn’t make some decisions.  It couldn’t be allowed to let the logic take it to . . . uncomfortable conclusions.  Although some conclusions are easier than others.

And some solutions are more difficult than life, itself.

The larger problem is this:  A.I. has been impacting your life already.  The search results I get are now tailored to me.  I don’t use Facebook®, but I have heard that Facebook™ has enough data on most people to predict their behavior better than their spouse could.  This makes me think of a unique solution to the trolley problem:

I know that I have often thought that A.I. could be a great solution to many human problems.  However, if it is corrupted by being indoctrinated by a woke ideology, what does that mean?  I would think that the average Leftist would welcome the usual communist solution to the trolley problem:

I have often worried that a denial of reality will “break” the A.I. systems that we use.  While that won’t make them “crazy” in the sense of a human, it will certainly make their answers defy reality.

Certainly, in many cases, the results of this will be absolutely benign.

In other cases, the results will be relatively incomprehensible:

In others, it will threaten the existence of our reality as we know it.

I think the result will be as long as the systems are programmed to ignore reality, the solutions that we’ll see will vary from helpful to harmful to dangerous.  This is similar to what we have today.  There are an amazing number of situations that exist in our world today where reality is absolutely ignored and we are suffering because of that denial of reality.

In the end, though, the computer skipped one solution to the trolley problem:

I do think that the beautiful part of the world we live in is that we can deny reality for a while.  But not forever.  I do think that, in the end, the power of artificial intelligence will beat human stupidity.

What World Do We Want To Live In? There Is A Choice.

“Is this the emergency services? Then which country am I speaking to?” – The I.T. Crowd

Why don’t Leftists like to talk about the future of what they’ll create?  It’s two in tents.

We are on a course to a new country.  Perhaps someone has a source for this quote (that I’m going from memory on):  It’s been said that every man dies in a strange country.  It’s not original to me, but it does contain a lot of wisdom.  As our country is aging, it is changing.  I’m just hoping it has better knees than I do.

But to illustrate the point, let’s take Pa Wilder:

When Pa Wilder was born, the income tax wasn’t even a decade old.  The meaning of a “state” was stronger then than now, though it was subsidiary after the Civil War.  Pa was born, grew up, and died living almost all of his time within a 30-mile radius, except for an all-expenses-paid trip to Europe from 1942-1945.

The rock band Flock of Seagulls never toured Iran.  Why?  Iran so far away.

When Pa Wilder passed away, the world had gone from the biplanes of World War I to a fully inhabited space station and regular flights to orbit, and occasional flights to the Moon.  The dollar had gone from gold to gimmick, and the question of freedom had gone from “why can’t I?” to “may I, please?”

The world Pa lived in growing up was one that was difficult.  If you had a child and couldn’t afford it, you had to find someone to raise it for you.  It is undoubtedly a fact that people died of starvation in the United States, and some certainly died because they didn’t have any money.

After the war, though, his generation had optimism.  It looked like there was nothing that mankind couldn’t do.  The atom had been split.  Rockets had touched space.  The largest rivers had been dammed and tamed and the only foe to be concerned about was the Soviet Union, and it looked like all of those people ate a diet of potatoes, onions, sawdust, and sadness.  A 1950s Hungarian joke went something like this:  “Definition of socialism:  the incessant struggle against conditions that would not exist in any other system.”

And, from the looks of him, he certainly could have nursed a drink.

The family had primacy.  And culture was built on the idea of that family, and policies at the local, state, and national levels were built around supporting the family and keeping it strong.

It worked pretty well.  Was there a cultural prohibition against being a tool?  Sure.  Was there an upper limit on the things that women could do in society?  Yeah, certainly there were few CEOs at the time that were women, and there were demarcations between jobs women would normally do, and jobs that men would normally do.  Men got the jobs that had higher stress, higher danger, and sure, higher pay.  Women got the jobs that conserved the culture, raised the young, and, yup, didn’t pay nearly as well.

It was a bargain made not to punish women or men, but as a nod to societal stability based on family hierarchy.

This is the America that was, and more than a few people on the Right look to this as the model of a successful society that creates the ability for mankind to make good on the promise of individual freedom, individual responsibility, a role for religion and celebration of individual success.

It is a world where equal chance based on merit is the goal, and winners of fair competition get the rewards.

Yup, pretty hard to take that to dinner, since each one required its own nuclear power plant.

This goal is soundly rejected by the Left.  They look for a model of America that can never be.  Their world is an entirely made-up concept of what they think the world should be.

What do they think?

  • Like Lake Woebegone, all children in their Leftist Utopia are above average.
  • Diversity is actually a strength.
  • Every deviance in sexuality is celebrated.
  • Every outcome is equal, regardless of effort, talent, or merit.
  • People have whatever they want, regardless of if they work or not.
  • Society owes it to everyone to take from the successful and make them the same as anyone else – equity is the goal.

Whereas I can love the ideas they have as ideas, the truth is that the world cannot be that way.  Some children are below average.  People who live and work with people that aren’t from their culture typically have lower trust, disharmony, “cultural tension” and conflict.

Oops.  Turns out that if you worship the Moon God Gorto and think child sacrifice is okay, Baptists might not be the best folks for the cubicle next to you.  And most people won’t applaud if you have sex during Thanksgiving at the table – I won’t explain how I know this.

The Mrs. tried to tell me to not fix my rifle with Super Glue®, but I stuck to my guns.

And outcomes aren’t equal.  There are winners, and there are losers.  Merit matters.  Talent matters.  Work matters.  If we remove the competition between winning and losing, and celebrate every loser like a winner?

You get a society of losers.  You get a culture of losers.  And who else but a loser would demand what Elon Musk has without doing what Elon Musk as done?  It’s a culture that is built on envy of what others accomplish and greed for what others have.

It is a culture that celebrates and encourages failure.  Even Leftists admit it.  I had a discussion with an acquaintance.  He’s a leftist.  My conjecture was this, “So, should we wait a few years to start your socialist empire until we have a cancer cure and maybe some better technology?  I mean, if you look at Socialist cultures, they aren’t really good at creating things.”

“You’re right, it would be better to wait a few years.”

Sure, there’s been corruption since the first human, but not every society is the same.  And societies like the 1950s in America had less corruption than any communist society, ever.  And, I would argue that society was far less corrupt than society today.  The outcomes were better – in most places, a locked door wasn’t required.  The outcomes of society have drifted negatively in many ways.  You could name them, so I won’t go into what would be a very, very long list.

Who had the biggest gender reveal party ever?  Japan.  In 1945 they had a Little Boy.

There’s more to this, but now, the Left is attempting to drive this world towards a future that is based on nothing but a theory that is no more sophisticated than a three-year-old’s version of what the world should be.  Is it any wonder that as we get closer to those fever dreams, things get worse?

As that author I can’t remember said, we all die in a strange country.  I’m just hoping that it stops sucking.

Thanksgiving Thanks, 2022

“Two men are dead! This is not the time for petty sibling squabbles. That’s what Thanksgiving is for.” – Psych

I knew an Irishman who used to sell lawn chairs.  I’ll never forget Paddy O’Furniture.

As this is Thanksgiving week, I thought I would share a few things that I’m thankful for.  These are in no particular order.

  • I’m thankful that almost every single one of my problems is self-inflicted, and has a clear way to solution. I am where I am because of who and what I am, and I can change everything I don’t like, when I want to.
  • I’m thankful for being with The Mrs., because either of us with other people would be just an unending misery for them. I believe the Geneva Convention specifically lists being married to either The Mrs. or to me as a Crime Against Humanity.
  • I’m thankful for Elon Musk and the amusement he creates by stirring the pot. Do I think he’s on our side?   But I think he irritates enough of the people who hate us to make me laugh, nearly daily.
  • I’m thankful for friends. I have a Polish friend who is a sound tech.  And a Czech one, too.  And a Czech one, too.

Or if I opened a trampoline in Prague, would the Czechs keep bouncing?

  • I’m thankful for standard time. Daylight savings time is the tool of the Devil.
  • I’m thankful for the “ringer and vibration off” switch on cell phones. And I should use it more.  There’s something to be said for uninterrupted focus time.  When going out to dinner, we often ditch our cellphones at home.  This leads to this crazy thing called “talking to each other.”
  • I’m thankful that The Boy is home from Midwestia State U (located right next to Wassamatta U) and that he and Pugsley talk for hours when they’re together. A loyal brother can be the closest friend as you move through life.

I recently bought a toilet brush.  Long story short:  I’m going back to toilet paper.

  • I’m thankful that I got up late today, and that I’m writing this early.
  • I’m thankful that, right now in this place and time, my family is safe, and we are together. This is why Thanksgiving has always been my favorite holiday:  there isn’t the stress from presents, merely a time to give thanks and be together.
  • I’m thankful for decongestants. I’d tell a joke about me having a virus, but I’m worried you might spread it.
  • I’m thankful that I live in a time that has the greatest access to knowledge of any place and any time in history, allowing me to read the thoughts of the greatest men who ever lived and the ideas that influenced our civilization and showed us what truth is, almost at a whim. Oh, and there’s also CNN®.
  • I’m thankful for cheese.

A Pomeranian puppy looked Medusa in the eye – he became pomegranite. 

  • I’m thankful for living in a time and place where starvation is unknown, though the Left keeps wanting to put it back into play.
  • I’m thankful that The Mrs. talked me into buying the chair that I sit in to write these posts. I had to get rid of my old recliner.  Me and my old recliner?  We went way back.
  • I’m thankful for beer. It actually made one of my friends smarter, you know, Budweiser©?
  • I’m thankful for hard exercise, where when I’m done, I know I’ve given it my all. I try to use the workout the actors who played the Marvel® superheroes use, but I get Thor just thinking about it.

I accidentally hit my Nokia® with a hammer, and took it to Best Buy™ so the Geek Squad© could fix it.  Best Buy® said they don’t work on hammers.

  • I’m thankful that the WD-40© fixed the front doorknob. I promise this really worked – it’s non-friction.
  • I’m thankful that Pugsley and The Boy are sons I can be proud of, strong and with their own opinions for their own reasons, and with exactly the character that I had hoped for. It wasn’t easy, and no matter what I do, German children will always be kinder.
  • I’m thankful for Ma and Pa Wilder, who, though gone, helped me become the man I am today. There was a time when I had a difficult relationship with them:  when I was born, I didn’t talk to them for two years.
  • I’m thankful to have lived through some of the most interesting times in human history, and having seen amazing advances in technology. And Chia Pets®.
  • I’m thankful for the first sip of hot coffee on a cool morning. I’m thankful for the last sip of coffee on a hot day.  I guess words cannot espresso how much I like it.

What was the subtitle for War and Peace?  Tsar Wars.

  • I’m thankful for the troubles I’ve had in life, because those have made me better. When I was young, Ma Wilder called me a pirate when I was learning the alphabet, since I always got lost at C.
  • I’m thankful for the talents that I was born with, because those gave me capacity. In fact, I have one talent that I’ll brag about:  I can always tell what’s inside a wrapped present.  It’s a gift.
  • I’m thankful for winter. Winter is the time of year when things are quiet, and I can think.  Sometimes I work on math, which makes The Mrs. say that I’m cold and calculating.
  • I’m thankful that I don’t have regrets, and go to sleep soundly. I often sleep without pajamas, which seems to bother them at work.

And I’m thankful to spend time with you folks every week.  Happy Thanksgiving!!

When You Need A Friend . . .

“Dayman.  Champion of the sun. Ahh-ahh-ahh. You’re a master of karate and friendship for everyone! Dayman.” – It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia

The Earth is covered over 80% by water, and most of it is not carbonated.  The Earth is flat.

On a recent version of his podcast, Scott Adams said (I’m paraphrasing because I’m too lazy to look it up), “I’m giving it one year.  Not two.  I’m not going to live another year like this.”

Wow.  I did hear that (in a later podcast) he reported that he changed his blood pressure medication and his mood improved, but am likewise too lazy to verify that, either.

To be fair, Scott has had a pretty bad year.  He’s had health issues, relationship issues.  How bad were they?  At one point in his podcast this spring, he melted down and tore into a viewer in a greatly disproportionate way.  It was like using a chainsaw to trim toenails.  Sure, it’ll do the work, but it will leave quite a mess.

This was the big sign to me that Adams was under a lot of pressure.

After hearing me sing, the choir director told me I was a natural tenor.  “Yes, John, stay ten or twelve feet away from a microphone.”

The point isn’t to diagnose Scott’s health or love life, but rather to point out that regardless of wealth (Adams is loaded) and options in life (he could live anywhere in the world he wants to, drive whatever car he wants to, and never worry about a bill ever again in his life), there is the possibility that someone you know needs a friend.  Scott certainly does.

One of the things that we have seen decline over the past few decades are those institutions in society that were devoted to fraternity – the Elks, Masons, Moose Lodge, bowling leagues, Boy Scouts® etc., have all seen membership declines – some so much that they’ve folded up in many locations.

And in our club we eat the same thing for breakfast:  Synonym Toast Crunch.

Over a decade ago, I was involved with Scouting™.  We would have leader meetings, which I ran.  I had an agenda, and we’d go through it in a rather business-like fashion.  At the end of one of the meetings, another leader, Chuck, pulled out his new cell phone and was showing me its features.

After the meeting, as The Mrs. (she was a leader, too) and I got into the car, I said, “That was weird, Chuck showing me his phone after the meeting.  Why do you think he did that?”

The Mrs. looked at me as one would look at a not-so-bright child, and said, slowly so my dim brain could comprehend . . . “Because . . . he’s your,” long pause, and then “friend.”  She said friend slowly enough that it was about two seconds in length.

My friend asked if I could sleep with someone dead or alive, who would it be?  I answered, “Obviously, someone alive.”

Of course, she was right.  I had been so focused on the “business” side of running the Cub Scout stuff that I had forgotten entirely about the personal side.  Chuck was my friend.  Duh.  But the lesson I learned was simple:  friends really are out there.  Chuck moved away, but I still call him once a year.  And I do my best to stay in contact with friends that, in some cases, I haven’t seen physically in 15 years.

That network of friends is important, at least for me.  While some people might go through life alone and do fine, I find that having a good network of friends helps me.  I can get good advice.  I can complain.  I can share my journey.  I can get good ideas.  I can laugh.  I can share my troubles.

I don’t go through life alone, and I’m stronger for it.

One of the joys of childhood was how easy it was to make friends.  In many cases, we didn’t have anything in common but being the same age, but that was enough.  Something about endless summers and going through similar difficulties was great for bonding.

I then started a camp to train kids needlework.  It was sew in tents.

I think technology has had a big role in our current dislocation.  Our televisions can now bring us nearly every movie from the last twenty years at a touch.  YouTube™ has millions of videos on almost every topic.  And don’t forget that friendship requires trust, something that is in shorter supply today than in years past.  In the end, regardless of why, we can change that.

My request is this.  Look around as you go about your day.  Try to, as much as possible, spread joy to those that deserve it.  And maybe even a little to some who don’t.  A little.  I know that most people who act like jerks are really jerks, but some are just going through a bad time.

Also?  Find and make a new friend.  This takes time and commitment.  And trust.  And there’s the fear of loss, too.  But the wonderful thing about friendship is this:  when it exists, it’s work that helps both people.

Hopefully Adams has found a friend.  If not, I’d be glad to show him my phone.

It Takes A Village To Raise Darrell Brooks

“You are not on trial for being a dwarf.” – Game of Thrones

I bet if I did a video about that, it would never get more than 665 likes.  Oh, and all memes today are “as-found”.

As I noted in the last post, The Mrs. and I have been listening to the trial of Darrell Brooks, the alleged murderer of six and injurer of 60 when he drove an SUV through a Christmas parade in Waukesha, Wisconsin.  It is, in one sense, informative.

Brooks is defending himself.  So, the judge in the case is going slowly, and making every accommodation possible.  For non-lawyers like The Mrs. and me, it’s a quick tutorial on the “how and why” the justice system works.  To watch Brooks defending himself, is, well, cringe-inducing.  But the judge very calmly and very patiently explains the procedures to the petulant child who never grew up and seems offended that the system would even consider locking up such a wonderful person such as him.

During the trial, one thing that The Mrs. and I have noted is that every single point is an argument with him.  Every.  Single.  Point.  He objects to every question the prosecution asks – I think his objection count is over 1,000 now.

This is the meme I found that best describes Mr. Brooks’ relationship with the legal system.

When the prosecution team asked to skip a portion of a video, he objected.  “Show the whole thing,” was his response.  Showing the whole thing, in this case, would allow the jury to hear his long litany of felony offenses, which included sexual contact with minors (felony), trying to run someone over (he was out on $1,000 bail when he drove the SUV through the parade), (shooting at people, out on $7,500 bail) and many others.  His arrest and conviction record is so long and convoluted, I’m sure I’ve got some inaccuracies and omissions above, but it doesn’t matter.

Darrell Brooks is a dirtbag.

And he’s been committing felony after felony for twenty years.  Lose your right to own a gun after getting a felony?  I don’t see how that’s relevant if Darrell can get arrested for SHOOTING AT PEOPLE AS A FELON IN POSSESSION OF A GUN and be out and about on bail.

Twenty years.

Now six people are dead, and dozens of people have been injured, some with multiple surgeries.

And only now do we take it seriously.

This trial gives me vision problems.  I don’t see Brooks not being guilty.

When I was in high school, I was the editor of the school paper.  It was a glamorous job, and our April Fools edition was amazeballs, you can bet, and my goofy horoscope page was (seriously) the most read part of the paper.  But I actually got some state-level awards for editorials, too.  One of them was about rules.

This was the phase of scholastic America where rule after rule was being added, and the phrase, “zero-tolerance” was being added to everything, because memes hadn’t been invented yet.  To summarize my editorial, “Keep it simple, have a few rules that are actually necessary, and enforce the hell out of those.”

I stand by that.  Darrell Brooks could have benefited from it.  This week I wrote about pathological altruism – the idea that being kind was actually cruel.  Darrell Brooks is the poster child for that.  In his actions as his own retard-level defense attorney, Brooks shows that he actually thinks that some of his arguments (the first witness he called for his defense was “The State of Wisconsin” – seriously) are going to keep him from being locked up until the Sun is a cold, dead cinder in the sky.

Maybe his motto was “it takes a village idiot to raise children”?

They won’t.  The system let him do crime after crime after crime with little to no punishment or consequences to his actions.  He thinks this is the same.  The only actual time I saw any emotion out of him was during the point in the trial where he gave his opening statement for his defense.  “You have to understand, there are two sides to every story.”  This is true.  One side is that there are the Waukesha Dancing Grannies being run over by Darrell Brooks, and the other is . . . Darrell Brooks didn’t get his way.

At no point has he shown even the slightest sign of remorse.  He is, I am sure, in his mind the victim of an unfair and “biast” (his word, not mine) conspiracy between the prosecutor and the judge.  What world created the mindset in a person that they could drive an SUV through a parade and be a victim?

Ours did.

The solution for parents is obvious – the system as it exists is so corrupt that you really cannot count at all on any external help in creating children that turn into virtuous adults.  When Hillary Clinton “wrote” her book It Takes a Village (to raise a child), Darrell Brooks was that child.  This is the result of parental dereliction of duty.  Sure, there are some kids that are just bad.  Heck, even when I was growing up, I recall one set of parents who legally disowned their sixteen-year-old because they couldn’t manage him.  But most of the issues can be contained with a unified parental front.

January 6th gets a Congressional investigation.  Jeffrey Epstein dying gets a collective sigh of relief from Congress.

It doesn’t take a village.  It takes parents.  It takes them intervening early and often and many times with terrible wrath because there is no help from the schools.  Kid failing?  They’ll pass the kid anyway – holding a kid back is not allowed, even in Modern Mayberry.  The judicial system is (at this point) so unrelated to actual justice that it deters essentially only people who are unlikely ever to become criminals from committing crimes.

I think that in any possible universe, Darrell Brooks was going to be a dirtbag who is absolutely unaware of anything existing but him and his feelings.  But, maybe, just maybe, his parents working to raise a decent human being could have stopped it.

Or maybe a judicial system that actually functioned.

I used to be such a sweet, sweet thing ‘til they got ahold of me . . .

This status cannot and will not stand, since society is actively breaking down at a rapid pace.  Is this intentional?  The results are clear, and people like Soros keep funding (to the tune of tens of millions of dollars) the election of Woke district attorneys that refuse to prosecute favored groups, encouraging crime, and encouraging the inevitable backlash.

So, yeah, it’s intentional.

And my horoscope for Darrell Brooks?  Don’t make any plans for the next six or so lifetimes.

Don’t Fear The Reaper

“No. Not like this. I haven’t faced death. I’ve cheated death. I’ve tricked my way out of death and patted myself on the back for my ingenuity. I know nothing.”  Star Trek II:  The Wrath of Khan

Why did New Jersey get all the toxic waste and California get all the lawyers?  New Jersey picked first.

When The Soon To Be Mrs. and I were just dating, I was cooking something or other.  I think it was eggs.  I like eggs sunny side up, and don’t particularly care if they’re cooked all the way.

The Soon To Be Mrs.:  “Aren’t you worried about salmonella?”

John Wilder:  (Laughs in full Chad manifestation.)

The Soon To Be Mrs.:  (Swoons.)

Seriously, she swooned.  I’ve never seen it before in my life, but in that moment I think that was what sealed the deal, the moment in time that The Soon To Be Mrs. realized that this one is different.  He’s not like the others.  Here is a man who has zero fear of The Current Thing, and knows that salmonella won’t be the thing that punches his ticket out of having a functioning circulatory system.

Weird.  You can get salmonella from chickens, but not chickenella from salmon.

No.  I’m not afraid of salmonella.  I would spit in its tiny little eyes or flagellum or tentacles and say, “Not today, my bacterium friend!  My Danish-Scots-Germanic blood is far too strong for the likes of you!”  And then I would attack Poland.  Oh, wait, that’s been done.

I know I’m not going to die like Hemingway, and I’m not going to die like the comedy greats Belushi, Twain, or Nietzsche did.  Nope.  I think I’m gonna go out like Elvis.  On a toilet after having eaten a fried peanut butter, jelly and bacon sandwich covered in cheddar cheese and mayo.  Nope, I’m gonna die on a toilet.

I mean, after all, a king should spend his last moments on the throne, right?

A lot of people worry about dying.  I suppose I did, in my 20s, when I was worried about carrying out my responsibilities as a dad.  Those are serious responsibilities – because those kids are going to be the legacy that I leave on Earth.  That and my writing, collection of PEZ® dispensers and velvet Elvis paintings.

I tell you, when the King died, that left me all shook up.

Again, a lot of people worry about dying.  I’m not sure why.  Of things that are more-or-less predetermined, that’s the big one. We’re all going to die.  All of us.

And I’m not sure I care.

Oh, sure, I want to live.  I have no particular desire to die.  If given the preference, I suppose I’m in favor of my continued heartbeat.  But I don’t fear death.  I don’t go to sleep at night wondering if this pain or that pain or that thing might be the symptom I look up on WebMD® that seals the deal that Wilder is going up to irritate Jesus in Heaven with bad puns.

I don’t worry about some future point when I’m going to enjoy life.  I’ve achieved nearly every goal I’ve ever set for my life.  End.  Full stop.  It’s like when a baseball game goes into extra innings, “Hey, free baseball.”  And me?  Free life.  I’ve done nearly everything I’ve ever wanted to do.

If you don’t like Hillary, you should move to Benghazi.  At least you know that there, she’ll leave you alone.

What do you give a man who has everything?  I mean, besides another bottle of wine.  You give that man:  Today.

I’ve got Today.  The only moment I live in is right now.  And right now isn’t all that bad.  I’m sitting in the sitting room (question:  is any room I sit in, by definition, a sitting room?  Discuss.) with the cool night air blowing in the window, some songs I love playing on the laptop, a cold beer by the keyboard, and the knowledge that at this moment, everything is fine.

Literally, in my life, Every Single Thing Is Fine.  I could go into details, but you already know how awesome I am.  So, I live for today?

Hell no.

That’s YOLO.  The idea that “You Only Live Once” is a free pass to act in any fashion has corroded society.  It’s really at the root of many of the problems we have today.  It is, in many ways, the absolute inverse of the philosophy I’m trying to describe.  YOLO seeks to elevate hedonism and the passions of the moment as the highest good.  YOLO is Tinder® times Planned Parenthood© times SnapFaceGramInstaChat® times Rwanda®.

I wonder if Hindus consider YOLO offensive?  (not my meme, as found)

It’s the inversion of beauty:  it consists of being positive about, well, any old thing that feels good.  I could list these “pleasures”, but you know the list as well as I do.  We see it every day, with vice being paraded as virtue, and the continual demand going out for people to celebrate it, because, “Can’t you see?  This horrid abomination that no healthy society or people in the entire history of the world has tolerated, iS BeAuTIfUL!”  No, I think living a life built on YOLO is one doomed to fail – inevitably it will fail based on two reasons:  it is materialism or a faith based on the nihilism of the material world writ large, and it is based on needs, like youth, wealth, sensation, or, yes, even life.

So, not YOLO.

One thing I’ve tried to preach is outcome independence.  Indeed, since the final outcome of life on Earth is fixed, all the intermediate steps lead there.  Instead, I try to focus on virtue and faith.  I write not because of YOLO, and not because it’s easy.  Some nights it’s hard as hell to get the post to “close” and feel right.  There are dozens of posts where, even after 1600 words, I still didn’t say exactly what I meant to say.  That’s okay, it’s on me.  I’m learning, and if I were perfect at this, I wouldn’t have more work to do.

For me, it’s the work.  It’s getting better.  It’s finding ways to add value to those people around me.  There are those who pull their weight in the world, and those that don’t.  I want to be one that pulls his weight, who has contributed as much as I can to helping my family and the wider world.

Why was Karl Marx buried at Highgate Cemetery?  He was dead.

I don’t always do it.  And I’m not always right, either.  I’ve produced some stuff in my life that was really, really good, but not perfect.  Thankfully, that’s not my mark, either, since just like immortality here on Earth, searching for perfection is a lonely and silly pastime.  I want to make the world a better place with my family (first) and my work (now second) guided by God.  And I want people to laugh hard while learning and thinking about the things I write.

The beauty of this is to win, all I have to do is the best that I can do every day.  To win?  All I have to do is be the best person I can be every day.  See?  Each night, I go to bed and sleep soundly if I know, in that day, that I gave it my all.  Do I take time for me?  Sure.  But that’s not the goal – I serve a higher purpose.

So, what do I fear?  Not death.  It’s coming whether I like it or not, and, honestly, I’d rather not return my body in factory-fresh condition – I’d like all the parts to fail at once.  On the toilet.  I think Elvis would have wanted it that way.

Oh, wait . . . .

I wonder if Elvis ate eggs sunny-side-up?  Hang on, I’m sure he did.  Elvis ate everything.

Life Lessons From George S. Patton, Jr.

“Do you think it would cause a complete breakdown of discipline if a lowly lieutenant kissed a starship captain on the bridge of his ship?” – Star Trek, TOS

If Peter Sellers fought for Patton, would he have driven a pink panzer?

I have been a long-time fan of General George S. Patton, Jr.  It started when I was a kid, and my history teacher even ordered a few extra Patton films for the World War II section of U.S. history because he knew I was a Patton fan.  Probably the biggest accolade that he could have was from the Germans who he fought, one of whom said simply, “He is your best.”

For whatever reason, though, I had never read The Patton Papers 1940-1945.  On a whim a week or so ago, I ordered a copy, and I cracked it open at lunch the day it arrived before I headed back to work.  I’m not sure I’ve ever enjoyed a book more.  I’m not sure The Mrs. feels the same way, since when I’m reading it, about every five minutes I’ll come up with a snippet to read to her.  She keeps saying, “Thanks, but no tanks.”

The book itself is a compilation of diary entries, letters Patton wrote, and orders he gave in the period from 1940-1945.  To have the ability to read through those are amazing, even when he just writes about the mundane aspects of his life or his son having trouble in math at school.  I didn’t start at the beginning, I just picked it up and started reading at a more-or-less random spot, which coincided with his taking command of American troops in North Africa.  And then I couldn’t put it down.

While many passages have resonated with me, I decided to write about one in particular today.  It consists of his instructions that were provided to his officers prior to launching Operation Husky, where he and Montgomery launched a naval invasion of Sicily.  Spoiler alert:  he did pretty well.  This is one passage I’ll make sure to share with Pugsley and The Boy because there is so much truth not only in a military sense, but in life to what Patton wrote on June 5, 1943.

Stuff in italics is Patton’s (from page 261 and page 262).  My comments are in plain text.

Discipline is based on pride in the profession of arms, on meticulous attention to details, and on mutual respect and confidence.  Discipline must be a habit so ingrained that it is stronger than the excitement of battle or the fear of death.

Discipline can only be obtained when all officers are imbued with the sense of their lawful obligation to their men and to their country that they cannot tolerate negligence.  Officers who fail to correct errors or praise excellence are valueless in peace and dangerous misfits in war.

Discipline starts with a single individual.  In my case, it doesn’t come from without, it must come from within.  Getting up on time.  Paying the bills.  Having a sense of purpose in life.  It has been my observation that people will do what you want when you’re looking if they fear punishment.  If they are being judged, they might do it when others are around.  When it becomes a value, however, they do it every time, all the time, even when no one is looking, and even when no one will ever know.

Officers must assert themselves by example and by voice.

People watch.  And people listen.  Letting things slide never creates excellence.

There is no approved solution to any tactical situation. 

There is only one tactical principle which is not subject to change.  It is:  “To so use the means at hand to inflict the maximum amount of wounds, death, and destruction on the enemy in the minimum of time.”

Obviously, war isn’t a game, but the lesson for life outside of attacking Sicily in 1943 still exists.  And it’s not to use Claymores (FRONT TOWARD ENEMY) and a mortar barrage to open a business meeting.  But I have been involved in business and life situations where time was of the essence, and being polite just had to go out the window.

Never attack [enemy] strength, [but rather his weakness] . . .

You can never be too strong.  Get every man and gun you can secure provided it does not delay your attack . . .

Casualties vary directly with the time you are exposed t effective fire . . . Rapidity of attack shortens the time of exposure . . .

If you cannot see the enemy, and you seldom can, shoot at the place he is most likely to be . . .

Our mortars and our artillery are superb weapons when they are firing.  When silent, they are junk – see that they fire!

One thread that runs through Patton’s writing and actions is his devotion to attacking.  Defending wasn’t something that he was interested in.  In life, I think that attitude is required.  It’s easy to give up, it’s easy to fall into the trap that there’s nothing more to do, nothing more to gain.  It’s similar to having all A’s on my eighth-grade report card and deciding to coast on that for the rest of my life.

Potential can only be realized if we push ourselves, and we can only push on the attack.  So, attack life like a poodle going after a pork chop, up to the very last breath.

Never take counsel of your fears.  The enemy is more worried than you are.  Numerical superiority, while useful, is not vital to successful offensive action.  The fact that you are attacking induces the enemy to believe that you are stronger than he is . . .

A good solution applied with vigor now is better than a perfect solution ten minutes later . . .

IN CASE OF DOUBT, ATTACK . . .

Again, attack.  But the additional thought is added:  don’t listen to your fears.  Fear is something that will paralyze even a strong man.  And from my experience, the best way to get over fears and avoid the paralysis that comes with them is to take action.  What action?  Any action that leads you toward your goal.  Even the smallest action often sets off a cascade of following actions that lead to . . . success.

Mine fields, while dangerous, are not impassable.  They are far less of a hazard than artillery concentrations . . .

Speed and ruthless violence on the beaches is vital.  There must be no hesitation in debarking.  To linger on the beach is fatal.

We are going to run into problems.  Some of them huge.  Some of them of our own making.  The idea is to push through.  The Mrs. and I watched a kid on the local wrestling team that was just awful in terms of skills, experience, and well, brains.  But, he’d get it in his head that he could win, and he would go out and win some very, very unlikely matches.  Why?  He didn’t hesitate.  He jumped on the chances he made.

I’ll probably have a few more of these as I go through the book.  And, as much fun as it is to read, I’m going to take my time to enjoy it.  I’d best show a little bit of discipline . . . Patton might be watching.