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THE FINAL COLUMN (of 2021)

29 Wednesday Dec 2021

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THE FINAL COLUMN (of 2021)

 

Another year is almost in the books and THANK GOD 2021 is passing by.

Here are a few random thoughts about the end of one year and the coming of the next one.

If you enjoy these columns and/or my blog in general, then please make sure to bookmark the site. As I continue to de-link from post-modernity, one of the things on the chopping block might be the email “Follow” feature. 

The columns found a new (old) home back here following my departure from the little paper that has since gone back to its roots. All’s well!

Much of the rest of my more recent posting consists of simple links to the PPN daily shows. These keep growing in popularity by leaps and bounds. I think it’s now safe to say it’s the biggest little prepper news podcast in the world. Look for bigger and better things with the show come sometime next year. Maybe be ready to $ubscribe. 

Those of you who watch or listen to the show know that as of January the First, all talk of “COVID” will center entirely on the war aspects, the war crimes, and the prosecution of the same. This is my personal outlook as well. There will be no third year of this most insidious retardery for me and mine. If that’s not for you, then, by all means, take your tenth(?) booster, stroke out, and go away.

I did enjoy much of the past twelve months. In addition to watching the final death of the Old US, the hilarious victory of the Taliban in Afghanistan, the rise of the Anti-Globalist Alliance, and the continuing madness over the common cold, I cut substantial ties with a variety of idiots, heathens, headcases, and drunks. This will continue in 2022. I’m hoping that the phone goes in 2023, with the departure from electricity sometime before the end of the decade (irrespective of the general loss as the dead society slips through civil war into third-world darkness). 

I fell in love with Gal Gadot this year! See, show him a beautiful and true woman, and even a curmudgeonly Luddite will see a beautiful and true woman in a sea of otherwise useless crap.

You too, I can tell. May’s Gal Gadot: Good, True, and Beautiful was by far the most popular column and post on the site this year. I stand by every word, though now I could add three times more!

*Yes, I am aware of this week’s “Illuminati Eye” photo(s). It’s 1) a joke, 2) she’s playing another role, or 3) see my original first paragraph about the sultriness. If – then – okay. No Gammas.

Did you know I have graduated to full, master curmudgeon? Yes. New powers to be wielded at will.

There has to be more fiction ahead. Maybe some more non-fiction. I have (or practically have) a “real” publisher now. Stand by the credit cards and so forth.

Part of this year has been difficult because I maxed out on many important topics. I look forward to new energy in the coming months. I might even repeat a few of those topics, perhaps repeatedly. 

Before I get to the next random thing, I remembered that nearly three years ago I wrote something for that deceased rerooted little paper about other little papers – three small-town news outfits that then still got the job done. We’re down to one now. Keep the Rocket Blowing, gents and gals. 

A very few of you who attended university with me in another distant century might recall my mocking relabeling of UGA’s Red & Black newspaper as the “Gay & Black” – owing to the target demographics as gleaned from the articles. For whatever reason, the other week I read a little from the Red & Black Gay & Black. Very little has changed… But I did find out that the Dunkin Donuts on Prince recently suffered a fire. That made me think of several things.

For one, I’ll not ever need to read the G&B again. For another, I’m no longer impressed with UGA. At all. In fact, around the time these digital pages go dark and a little manual typewriter starts hammering, I foresee a series of degrees, diplomas, and certificates being renounced. 

For yet another thing: what memories from the Dunkin Donuts on Prince! The one that came rushing back was about a morning some years ago. We’ll say it was 1979. This was, by the way, before Fred the Baker started rising before dawn to “make the donuts.” While en route to the mountains, an old class-C RV pulled into the Dunkin lot from Milledge. My old man and my mom’s dad went inside for sugar and caffeine. I stayed up in the comfy, spacious bed over the cab, where all the cool kids rode in old Winnebegos back in the day. It was lethally dangerous and yet, somehow, we all survived. 

We were stronger then. We had a little left of that thing called freedom. We had more affordable donuts too. Now, we have a crime against humanity, freaks destroying higher education, and a citizenry too stupid to really notice or care. Then again, we also have Mrs. Gadot. And the promise of another new year. We have these grand words of grumpy nostalgic wisdom. Not so bad, now, is it?

Happy New Year, 2022! Onward.

(Weak Christmas Fiction) COLUMN: Buddy’s Christmas Tree

23 Thursday Dec 2021

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Buddy’s Christmas Tree

*Hello and Season’s Greetings, Friends! This is what may have to pass for the annual Christmas (micro) fiction. This, of course, is the weakly weekly column, geared to those in the PPN audience. Please enjoy!

 

A studio in a converted garden shed, one December evening…

Perrin babbled away, again: ‘…now, ladies and gentlemen, we’re joined by the most wonderful actress and woman in the world, the lovely and gracious Gal Gadot! Hey, Gal! How’s the high life in Hollywood? Boy, oh boy, did I enjoy Red Notice! Thank you for coming on again so soon…’ The conversation would go on for several hours.

From high on his little FRC box perch, Buddy, Jr. looked on with pity. What a shame, he thought; the big guy should get out more, maybe bite the bullet and date that pretty secret agent woman. He cleared his throat and said, ‘Well, now, I’m running out for a bit. Kind of like you should. Uh. Okay, you just talk to yourself, again, for a while. Bye now.’ Perrin continued to gibber happily – to no one – about movies, and Goodles, and other things he knew nothing about. 

Ignored, as usual, the tiny lizard made his way down the cheap cardboard-like paneling. As he crossed the cold, unforgiving concrete floor, he passed the very spot where Buddy Senior’s tenure had abruptly ended. He crossed himself. Then, he carefully darted here and there through a maze of cigar boxes, empty coffee bags, and other rubbish. Next, he climbed over and past various boxes and crates bearing such odd labels as “RDX” and “Titanium Diboride.” By the door, he stopped and put on his extremely small coat, hat, and mittens. 

A gust of cold wind blew in the crack under the door where the weather stripping had broken away. Buddy was just about to exit when the Old Drunken Spider wobbled in, carrying with him a cricket (that we all know was just sleeping). ‘The big fool talking to himself again?’ the old creepy-crawler asked with a hiccup.

‘No!’ Buddy said emphatically. ‘This time it’s for real. He’s got Wonder Woman on Zoom!’ After a quiet moment, they both fell out laughing.

‘Almost had me there, Greenie!’ the spider chuckled as he staggered sideways a bit. ‘Well, if he’s having another … interview, I’ll just go to the other end and entertain my guest here.’ He patted the cricket – who was still sleeping. ‘You take care out there; it’s starting to snow if you’ll believe it.’

After staring at the mouth-watering sleeping cricket for a second, Buddy said ‘thanks and good evening,’ tipped his tiny hat, and ducked under the poorly-fitted door. Walking under the rusting, dented hulk of what had once been an SUV, he remembered his long years spent forgotten in the glove compartment. Those metal wires sticking out of the tires must be for extra traction, he thought as he emerged into the wide-open space behind the driveway. With little white flakes falling all around, he made his way through the yard and down the lane.

Over on the corner, under the soft rays of an old street lamp, Buddy found the Tiny Postman busy gathering letters from the tiny, special Santa Mail mailbox. 

‘Good evening, Tiny Postman!’ Buddy said. ‘All those gonna make it in time?’

‘Evening, Buddy,’ said Tiny Postman. And, yes, these are just in time. Say, you live in the shed. Any idea if this sad story will feature any other FP characters? Or a real plot?’

‘No, I’m afraid not,’ Buddy said with a shrug. ‘It’s just self-deprecating nonsense, a sleeping cricket, me, and my quest to find the perfect you-know-what.’

‘Ah, well. Maybe next Christmas. Anyway, are you off to the little magic place in the woods?’

‘That’s the place!’ Buddy exclaimed. ‘I’d better hurry. I hear they’re having a party tonight.’

The diminutive friends parted ways and Buddy hurried on. As a surprisingly healthy snow began to fall in earnest, he crossed the vacant lot and entered the woods. As he made his way into the trees, he passed several more friends. With each step, he grew more excited. Finally, he rounded a corner and stood beneath the most magical, special tree in the glade – the Northern Operations Tree of the Prepper Elves! Buddy clasped his little mittened hands together and smiled. He knew that inside that tree was a very special little tree all for him. But then, with genuine shock, he read the sign on the door: CLOSED. GONE TO CHRISTMAS PARTY AT FPHQ. BACK IN JANUARY.

Crushed, Buddy made his way back through the woods. He lamented Perrin’s cheapness and general aversion to travel. They themselves could have been at that party. Should have been. Maybe there, Buddy could have gotten his special little tree. But, as it sometimes happens, some things just aren’t meant to be. Back in the vacant lot, he ran into the Angry Cat. That encounter is the stuff of a story for another day. Needless to say, Buddy survived. He walked slowly through the snow with his head down until he again moved under the wreck of the Old Bug-Out Vehicle and Mobile Prepper Studio.™ Suddenly, he noticed something – something near the shed door that had not been there when he’d left.

Down on the ground by the crack under the door was a very small box with a bow on top. There was also a tiny card with his name on it. He carefully read the tiny card:

Dearest Buddy, Jr,

Here’s a present for the cutest little plastic lizard in the prepping world.

Merry Christmas, from your biggest fan.

Love,

GG ♡

Before he went inside to hang up his tiny coat and hat and mittens, Buddy opened the box. And, what do you suppose he found inside?!

The End

(Not very good, but at least it’s over! Merry Christmas!)

COLUMN: The Shortest Column Ever

16 Thursday Dec 2021

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I would like to get something else out this week, but who knows? Tired and busy here. So, I have an assignment for you!

On September 12, 2018, an EO was issued. Upon a recent time, it looked hopeful for real Americans. See if you can figure out how it allegedly has become a dreadful weapon against real Americans. Write something about it if you like – just be careful where you publish that…

More later, and not on this subject.

COLUMN: Red Alert for “Red Notice”

08 Wednesday Dec 2021

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Red Alert for “Red Notice”

 

Finally, a new column with a purpose! Yep, we’re back. Well, kind of; please hold the applause. Some of you may recall that my Intrado (West) bio as a member of the international press lists me, for whatever reason, as keen to cover the old A & E beat. Previously, this might have referred to my occasional grumbling about “Hellywood” or something. Lately, it’s all GG. (Yeah. This is another Gal Gadot praise session).

Two weeks ago, desperate for something semi-sane to write about, I lauded GG’s new Goodles culinary endeavor. Therein, I even dared to imagine “…I might venture into a theater to watch…” “Red Notice.” Well … I did not. The Gal failed for once. I did, however, watch it outside of a theater, so she really, as usual, succeeded. Here follows my review.

The film is playing at a cinema relatively close to me, one of just a handful nationwide. I’m not really big on movie houses anymore. I don’t like television either. I also don’t and won’t subscribe to Netflix. Luckily, some friends do own a telly, a giant 80(?)-inch model, which is wired up to every service under the sun. So it was that one night last week, I watched our beloved Israeli’s latest work. 

I don’t like movies in general and I tend to shun most popular culture. I also, credentials aside, don’t do movie reviews – much. In the past ten years, I may have reviewed two, both negatively. Ergo, I don’t have a rating system. All that said, I highly recommend “Red Notice” for the general public! For my own strict purposes, I’d say the movie was good enough as it allowed me to watch more Gadot in a fun, inoffensive vehicle. I believe those of ordinary interests will be absolutely thrilled. In fact, I know they are. 

One of the dedicated entertainment outlets previously surmised that “Red Notice” needed to garner 200 million viewing hours to be successful. I have no idea what that means, given the film’s $200 million budget and the oddities of Hollywood accounting. Last I checked, it’s clocked over 335 million hours, making it something beyond a success. It also knocked over some sort of birdcage to become Netflix’s biggest, most-watched movie ever. The people like it.

The professional movie critics have some valid movie critic points. Some. A few. Just a few. 

Hang on! Before this degenerates into a ramble, let’s get the facts out of the way, shall we? “Red Notice” revolves – at rather high speed – around a plot by and between Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson, Ryan “Deadpool” Reynolds, and !GAL “She IS Wonder Woman and Is There Anything She Can’t Do?!?! and, boy, אני אוהב אותה” GADOT! to scour the world – at rather high speed – in search of Cleopatra’s missing, magical, very expensive, Fabergé-like eggs. SPOILER ALERT: In the end, they find them and eat them. Gal has her’s Benedict. 

Let me add that I like Johnson and Reynolds. They worked very well together in the film, even as they might have eaten a little too much of GG’s screen time. As a trio, the gang clicked and delivered solid performances. My favorite part was all the ones with Gal, especially when she was speaking. What I could have done without was some visual aspects of the filming itself. It’s hard to describe and it might just be my inner curmudgeon, but this movie felt or watched like television. Maybe it was because I watched it on a (really, really big) TV? Maybe my eyesight isn’t what it was? Dunno. However, everything went crystal clear and dreamy whenever a certain “hard ten,” as Reynold’s character described her, appeared.

Back to the real critics, they criticize. Sometimes excessively. The job, I suppose. Many of them would like for every action-esque flick to be a one-of-a-kind change-up or masterpiece like “Wonder Woman.” By the law of averages, they can’t be. And “Red Notice” didn’t even try; it thereby succeeded in fulfilling what it was meant to be. It was, as some of the critics noted, a big, fun, silly, fantasy-doesn’t-have-to-make-perfect-logical-sense, action-comedy. It made sense enough for a good romp. Yes, it happened to pay a kind of amalgamated homage to so many similar oldies from the 1980s and 90s. It was a little bit of a time warp. People need that right now and this film delivered. 

While it wasn’t perfect, the plot was coherent. It was fun. And funny. I’ll admit that some of the humor was perhaps on the lower slapstick end, but it worked. And, interestingly enough, despite a never-ending series of chases, fights, and shootouts, nobody died. That’s two Gadot movies in a row like that. “Wonder Woman 1984” was the first. A new GG effect? Refreshing, regardless.

That’s the summary of “Red Notice” – refreshing!

Having written all this, I realize that I, in fact, really liked the show. In honor of Johnson, Reynolds, and !GADOT!, I give it three stars up! 

I may not be a snarky professional British critic writing for Haaretz and, for that, I thank God. I’m also thankful for anything GG does. Naturally, I, too, want to see her progress to the next level – like a no-CGI-required dramatic performance. It’s coming. A few of them. I’ll arrange some way to screen “Death on the Nile” next year. I heard a rumor that Mrs. Goodles wrote, if not the whole script, the initial story behind “Cleopatra.” I want to see what the girl has in terms of full creative ability and I think she’ll blow it one away regardless of whether we see the magic eggs in action. I have high hopes for “Hedy Lamar.” But the one I’m really looking forward to is “Irena Sendler.” 

To answer Mr. Snark Haaretz, I do think the Poles will enjoy seeing their Catholic heroine played by a Jewish Israeli actress – especially this one. Gal can and probably will accomplish several great things with that role. Time will tell and, again, I truly look forward to it.

Okay, that’s all the movie talk I can muster. How about some pasta? 

Wouldn’t you know it? Goodles is mostly sold out at the moment. While we wait, please take a few minutes and learn why that project is so important. Ladies and gentlemen, GG:

She couldn’t find NONE! So she did it herself. What a woman! Double kiss too.

Still with me? While we’re on entertainment, there’s this. This summer, in a submission that never saw publication (someone shuffled the new Substack?), I made some UGA Football Next Year Club meeting predictions: “If the Dawgs can make it past Clemson, then the meeting may be delayed until December. It might not happen at all.” Easing towards New Year’s Eve, that’s exactly where we are. Do I have a knack for the A & E thing after all?

Tune in next time for more of the same.

(Short, Weak) COLUMN: Seeds of Secession and Other Matters

01 Wednesday Dec 2021

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Seeds of Secession and Other Matters

 

As (Thank God!) we inch another day closer to the end of 2021, we also move closer and closer to 2033, the year some predict for the breakup. 

A recent story in the Los Angeles Times relays one of many possible starting points of the inevitable Balkanization. North of Sacramento, Oroville, and Butte County, California still, for now, look like America. However, like almost the entire civilized world, they’ve been under the idiotic pressures of the Great Hoax. At least the city council decided to do something.

They voted to declare the town a “Constitutional Republic” in response to Gavin Newsom’s Draconian mandates. This gesture is about as Boomer civic-nationalist as it sounds, but I suppose it’s better than nothing. In the greater scheme, it amounts to one more little crack in a dead, decaying empire.

Again, all of this mania for nearly the last two years is over a biological war and hoax. People still believe in it – some of them religiously – even as it has completely fallen apart. In response to a hyped-up cold season, the satanic war criminals push a deadly poison. People keep falling for the lies. And it is all a lie. The “vaccines” do not work. Dr. Kobi Haviv of Herzog Hospital in Jerusalem recently said that 85-90% of his facility’s COVID patients are fully vaccinated. Further, he claimed that 95% of the critical patients were likewise fully vaccinated. While this is the opposite of the media’s narrative, it is the exact scenario seen everywhere records are kept. H. O. A. X.

I’m tired of it.

Tired of all the hoaxes of post-modernity. 

The other day, I made the mistake of leaving the cave. While out and about, I was approached by a very nice woman who asked me to witness and attest to her new mortgage. I politely declined. I’m sure she really needed the bank’s assistance with her home purchase. I’m also sure she found someone else willing to overlook the evil of the matter. There’s nothing I can do to stop things like usury. I do not, however, have to participate in them. 

At that moment, I did not explain myself, seeing little point. On these digital pages, I have clarified things – over and over and over. 

It’s not just the hoaxes. Day by day, I grow more disenchanted with the entirety of post-modernity. It’s more misos than phobos. 

Regular rebel-rousing columns will continue soon. Or reruns. Or, maybe, some fiction. That’s probably what we need here! 

Happy December and such.

COLUMN: Tidings of “Comfort and Joy”

24 Wednesday Nov 2021

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Tidings of “Comfort and Joy”

 

Here follows just a few observations and thoughts about the vehicular terrorist attack in Waukesha, Wisconsin this past weekend.

I’m not exactly certain, but I think I am tired of these columns. I am most definitely tired of the subject matter.

“Comfort and Joy” was the title of this year’s Christmas Parade in Waukesha. The participants and attendees received neither.

Waukesha – the City, the Village, and the County – all still look mostly like Old America. Yet, like almost all other places, they too slowly succumb to the hellish ravages of the Curse of 1965. Remember, in total, net terms, the US lost 627,000 Posterity Americans last year. That was a substantial increase over the hefty loss in 2019; we can expect 2021 to be even worse. Six more are guaranteed dead, thanks to this latest terror.

Six people, five older Americans and one child, are dead. Some forty people, about half of them children, are wounded. These numbers may change. Many if not most or all of these victims are Heritage Americans.

Waukesha is not far from Kenosha, home to the Rittenhouse Justice. While I do not know precisely, I hazard a guess that this attack was a form of revenge or retaliation against the White People of Wisconsin, committed either because of the Great Acquittal or because of sheer hatred and acceleration.

This attack looked A LOT like similar attacks previously seen in the US and, especially, in Europe.

The government and its paid-for, controlled media have been quick to dispute my labeling, saying this was not a terror attack – thus confirming that it was. To them, ask any Garfinkle, terrorism is only committed by White People upset about their nation being stolen and their children being indoctrinated in satanism. They are full of shit.

Stop listening to the full of shit media and their masters.

Their constipation was on display immediately. As soon as the first reports rolled in, and even before any description or mention of the suspect was made, they offered an excuse for him. A narrative. We have no idea who did this. No information at all. Uh, b-b-but he was just, um, fleeing an unrelated knife incident. Yeeah… The local police chief refuted this idiocy, though no one at the Langley MSM seems to have noticed.

As usual, the alleged suspect, Darrell Brooks, aka “ThugBoy” (or something), a “rapper,” is and was well, well, I mean really well known to authorities. This happens to correspond to my first law of terrorism. 

ThugBoy, the “rapper,” was, is, among other things, a raving, semi-literate madboy, a repeat felony offender, a self-admitted and convicted(?) child molester, not a fan of Kyle Rittenhouse, allegedly a proponent of violence against White People, especially “old [W]hite ppl,” and was, at the time of the attack, out on (ridiculously low) bail for trying to run over a “baby mama” with the same SUV alleged used in the parade. If there really was a knife incident, what are the odds he was the perpetrator?

The usual suspects of social media, many of them with echoing names like “Feinberg” and “Lemanski” instantly began mocking and gloating. Remember that.

There may or may not be a future conviction related to this attack. There will be more attacks.

All these facts being what they are or may, I assume that by press time on Wednesday this story will be somewhere down the memory hole. The names of the victims are being grudgingly leaked, evidently, so they can be forgotten. One should pray for the families left behind and for the losses to not be entirely in vain.

This episode illustrates many things. One of them is the general divide between good and evil. Those who compare it to any legitimate self-defense case are stupid if not evil. Those who mock and gloat are purely evil. There is no reconciling with such people. Interestingly, tellingly, few to none are currently calling for unity or healing. Ergo, I need not waste digital ink on how that is no longer possible.

The United States, what’s left of it, is in the early stages of a civil war. The conflict is multi-partied, multifaceted, and it has yet to go “hot.” Your acknowledgment of this reality is not necessary. Again, being a dumb casualty is the default in these kinds of matters. For now, Posterity America has yet to actively engage except by providing victims. While the war is still cold, it does flare up from time to time. This was one of those times. 

The correct order, again, is: identity > culture > politics. By the time a nation’s identity has been lost or subverted, taking the prevailing culture with it, the politics of things like no cash bail are moot. 

This episode highlighted the strength of DIEveristy, which is largely the elimination – in this case literally – of Posterity Americans. Diversity + proximity = war. No amount of fictitious American exceptionalism will exempt us from this universal truth. 

Should one wish to survive the war, one would do well to change the thinking. War. Footing.

Sadly, the time has come to selectively abandon some of the more pleasant aspects of the old ways of life in America. We all enjoyed parades, concerts, and other trivialities. However, it would be best to now avoid any and all mass public gatherings. Yes, the odds of something bad happening are low … until something bad happens. Then the odds jump to 100%.

I know that you’re special and different. Your town is still okay. You’re a badass combat vet. You’re a friend of the encroaching darkness. Your head is firmly in the sand. Whatever. Again and again, becoming a casualty is the default. 

When one is out, anywhere, keen situational awareness is now mandatory.

It would be best to be armed, whether you’re “there” or not. This is a general rule. No, small arms don’t tend to stop speeding SUVs. The police tried that and failed; there’s a video. Vehicles are generally stopped or deterred by belt-fed machine guns and rockets. Patience.

I am tired of these columns. Part of me hopes the old energy returns. Part of me.

One truly wonders how many of these incidents it will take to wake the slumbering masses. As most people are still asleep, or worse, already defeated, count on nobody riding to the rescue.

Take heart in the knowledge that some semblance or remnant of Western Civilization will survive and eventually flourish again. There’s the true comfort and joy.

Happy Thanksgiving, Americans.

COLUMN: Use Your Goodles

17 Wednesday Nov 2021

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Use Your Goodles

 

Today I present a first for my column, my blog, and anything else I have ever written. I herein review a macaroni and cheese! 

It’s GOODLES! Where, as they put it, they do mac ‘n’ cheese “gooder.” Get it? 

Out of an abundance of honesty, I have not sampled any of their pasta – yet. However, I implicitly trust one of the co-founders, so it’s all good(er). Let’s hear from her:

When does the woman sleep?! Gal just cranked out baby number three. Her “Red Notice” is currently the top movie in the world – and one I might venture into a theater to watch (I’m surprised too just at the notion). She’s working on 10,000 other things. And still, she found time to reinvent the noodle. 

Why and how? Well, recently she explained the matter to an eager James Corden. She said that when she was a little girl growing up in Themyscira Israel, her aunt and uncle would travel from the US for visits. Like any good relatives, they brought with them heaping bags of boxes of store-bought mac ‘n’ cheese. Thus began Gal’s love of the staple. Now, with three girls of her own, the trend obviously continues. And, as Wonder Woman and an all-around wonderful perfect gal, Gal wanted to reinvigorate the dish. Make it healthier. Heartier. Happier. She wanted to do for the boiled bowl what she does to everything else – make it perfect for everyone.

She found the opportunity thanks to some of the other ardent pasta lovers at Goodles. Click around the website, please. Then, as I will, click over and order a few boxes.

As of press time, they offer four flavors: Cheddy Mac, Mover & Shaker, Shella Good, and Twist My Parm. What sets these selections apart? For starters, according to Gal, team Corden, and numerous reviews, they just taste better, the way macaroni used to. It’s also packed with protein. 14 grams of protein per serving, to be precise. Read through the ingredients. Shunning the evils of soy, they opted for wholesome chickpea to beef up the wheat base. 

Based on the listed nutrition values, I suspect Goodles might make for excellent prepper/bug-out/survival food. There is the matter of preparation on the go, but that can and will be field-tested. I also suspect something like Shella Good might be hella good paired with Freedom Roasters Coffee. I further suspect that to cross-promote brands and add caffeine, the pasta could be boiled in FRC coffee. Maybe? We’ll find out one day.

While you’re shopping, take note of the variety packs and the be-logo’d “swag.” At the moment, I can’t see how roller skates would augment a crowd-pleasing snack – though they surely can’t hurt. Then again, if Gal Gadot is behind it, it has to be right. (Perrin is a proud unpaid, unofficial, unsolicited spokesman for all things GG). Buy a beanie or something, folks. Do your part.

I’ve done mine and now I’m going to wrap this one up with a little humor. During her first hinting roll-out promo video, it sounded to me like Gal was channeling her inner Trump. “It’s huge. HUGE,” she said before nibbling on a noodle. So, in due course, I’d like to add some additional Orange Man-esque suggestions:

“You’re gonna have the best pasta. Better than you’ve ever seen.”

“We’re gonna drain the Velveeta. That’s right.”

“We will lock up Krooked Kraft!”

“The competition is not sending us their best. No. Empty calories, unpronounceable chemical additives, gas-inducing garbage, and some, I imagine, are good shells…”

“We’re going to BUILD THE CHEESE. And Macaroni will pay for it.”

“Look at that noodle. Look at her! If she wasn’t my noodle … I’d date her.”

(You don’t even have to credit me, Goodles! Free for the taking.)

Yes, it felt good, for once in a great while, ginning up a simple script about something happy, innocent, and helpful. But that’s the power of the world’s greatest actress and the newest, goodest noodle company going. Ah.

*What I have from the world of Tolkien – it’s really good – can wait (it’s lurked in draft form in the hopper for some six years already). And, yes, I am tracking the painfully slow pace of Kyle Rittenhouse’s verdict. More on that when it comes. For now, I thought this subject was more fun, certainly more nutritious, and in keeping with my endless praise of all things GG.

[COLUMN]: Busy Work

11 Thursday Nov 2021

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Busy Work

 

It’s yet another education column!

William S. Lind gave a lecture to a group of Marine Corps officers at Quantico in August of 2010 about the Four Generations of Modern Warfare. One, blessed with sufficient intelligence and initiative, may find the recorded session at unauthorized.tv on the Documentaries Channel. He, again, raised the alarm that the US Empire’s military is now at least two generations and about one hundred years behind, and thus destined to lose perpetually. He noted that other, less advanced though more creative nations had adapted to modern reality. He spoke of carving out some corner for Christian, Western Civilization.

He also made various points of commentary that struck me as applicable to the greater society in general and, specifically as to education.

As noted and observed by Dr. Ironsides in The Substitute, we are now several generations into the age of post-literacy. Lind correctly describes the new young mind as incapable of reading a book. Further, he laments that the USSA’s military has largely deprofessionalized to the point that many, if not most, officers have never read a single book of military strategy or philosophy. So it is in the schools, where eleventh and twelfth-grade students read at the second-grade level – if at all.

The same wicked, stupid forces that destroyed the military and other institutions are the same forces that corrupted and ended American education. The same obsession with rote order has produced in the academies, as on the battlefields, the same dismal failure. With the military, it’s no longer about winning. In the schools, it’s no longer about learning.

Lind remarked about the great intellectual and philosophical developments of previous centuries. Now, stagnation has given way to regression. Then, great minds developed because they were allowed to. They had the time to think. To paraphrase Lind’s key point (in my mind), the best way to kill intellectual development is to keep everyone busy.

In our pitiful excuses for schools, everyone – from the students to the teachers to the administrator – constantly engages in some form of what is derisively but correctly called “busy work.” Doing things for the sake of doing them, on a rigid schedule, day after day, with the tempo literally ordered by the ringing of a bell. 

I truly tire of writing about this system and its degeneracy over and over and over again. By any and all metrics, it is all dead. Yet and still, the people, the parents, stupidly send their children into the storm. In many cases, they try to play the system in some vain pursuit of something they cannot accurately describe. Defeated at every turn, they lack the fortitude to admit that when one plays the devil’s game, the devil always wins.

Decentralization is a large part of the solution to this madness. Compare the high-flying success of something like the Sudbury School, with no schedules, no classes, no subjects, and no rule of command and control, with the foregoing. Out of habit, I routinely praise and preach homeschooling. What I really find most hopeful is “unschooling.” It’s the asymmetrical educational approach akin to fourth-generation warfare tactics. And it works.

As a mass, nationwide practice, the learning process could be, in a sense, state-sponsored. The Chinese have codified and instituted Unrestricted Warfare, which is essentially fifth-generation combat – fourth-gen tactics practiced by a nation-state. For Western education, this would be a simple reversion to the better way things used to be. It will not happen in the dying US. However, in that carved-out future home for Christian Remnant, there is still great hope.

Next time, if I can muster the energy, we may explore a little Tolkien.

Division, Not Peace

05 Friday Nov 2021

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Bruce Charlton observes a trend in the various churchian denominations: they all seek to serve the world, at a minimum going along to get along.

Members of Christian churches may have noticed that, just as ‘obedience’ nowadays means compliance with the agenda of evil; ‘unity’ now means joining with the alliance of evil: joining the evil side in the spiritual war.

All the priests and pastors who adopt and preach the hoax in order to unite the people with the state with humanity and so forth … forget that Christ came to DIVIDE. See Luke 12:51.