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Coming this week at TPC. Maybe more than one word. You won’t want to miss them.
Now, y’all enjoy what football, if any, may come in between the cross-dressing commercials. Stay woke.
02 Sunday Feb 2020
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Coming this week at TPC. Maybe more than one word. You won’t want to miss them.
Now, y’all enjoy what football, if any, may come in between the cross-dressing commercials. Stay woke.
28 Tuesday Jan 2020
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The Seven Laws and the Turnaround of Education 2020
In 1886, John Milton Gregory propounded Seven Laws of Teaching. These have, today, been universally dismissed by the credential-heavy, intelligence-absent cabal that is state education.
In their defense, whatever else they may be, the students today are eager to learn, at least in the very early years. That’s one of two shining points of pride in the school systems, the other being the dedication of most of the teachers. The shame enters with the handcuffing of the teachers and the deliberate dulling of the adventurous young brains. The system has departed, willfully, from the rules with predictable results.
Here follows a brief summary examination of Gregory’s Laws versus modern reality.
Law One. The teacher possesses complete knowledge of the subject and teaches from literal authority. From thence, the knowledge passes from leader to pupil without diffidence or degradation. Again, today, the teachers generally know and the students, initially, want to understand. The disconnect comes from a foremost emphasis on pedagogy, on the systematization of everything of procedure at the expense of everything material, wherein quality control kills quality.
Law Two. Keep the class centered on the lesson. Do not proceed without the full attention of the students. This is today, completely lost after maybe the fifth grade. So many years of command and control have turned off the child’s mind at the worst time – when hormones commence natural interference. Strategically, all is already lost. Tactically, more attention is paid to phones and games and other instruments of immediate satisfaction than to the lecturing or questioning instructor. The repeated Socratic inquiry is met with blank stares and grunts of “Huh? What?”
Law Three. Communicate clearly in a language known to both student and teacher. This is a challenge under any circumstances, given the gap between the ages and experiences of the two groups. It is made much worse today by the general loss of literacy skills (reading and writing) and SPEAKING skills among both groups. In the near future, any instruction may be impossible as the grunting and distracted students of today attempt to educate future generations of even more confused grunters.
Law Four. Through easy, natural steps, build new knowledge upon that which is already known. We used to call this cumulative learning or, simply, building blocks. Today, there is, at just about any given level, nothing upon which to build upon. Without Sally, Dick, and Jane, there is no progression to Bunyan, Shakespear, or Flaubert. Without 2+2, there is no quadratic expression nor slope differentiation.
Law Five. Using the child’s natural curiosity, push him to explore and understand the truth as, or even before it is presented. Channel the energies, so to speak. Elementary-aged children still constantly exhibit the natural inclination to gain the wonders of the universe. However, in a system bent on crushing such possibility and replacing it with fear and mediocre complacency, there is little to channel even if there is a direction in which to flow.
Law Six. Mandate the reproduction of acquired knowledge, by the student, in a manner of her expression and with words of her own. The children should make the subject matter, whatever it is, their own. This step requires subject matter, energy, interest, and common language, all woefully lacking today.
Law Seven. Review, review, REVIEW! Build what follows upon what already exists and is plainly understood. This is replaced today with TEST, TEST, TEST! While a test, generally at the end of a study, serves to confirm understanding, we have reached the point where the test itself is the course of study. The French concept of le Bac comes to mind as a proper example – the finality of enterprise with confirmation of success or suggestion of needful remediation. In American schools, there’s the teacher’s biology test, the local system’s assessment of skills gained from the teacher’s biology class, the state’s standardized test of the same, outside standardized testing of the same, and more, in addition to testing of the teacher’s test. And, of the teacher. Test overload, with or more likely without underlying factual comprehension.
Why are these laws out of fashion? Simply put, it’s because they are aimed at literal education. That’s not the goal of modern schools. They serve two purposes: 1) fostering listless conformity, and 2) providing make-work for nit-to-mid wits. As when any industry descends from an enterprise into a racket, two classes of people evolve – doers and parasites. Given enough time, the parasites take over, outnumbering and overpowering the doers. In education, the doers are the teachers. The parasites are the educrats, administrators, and hangers-on.
…
21 Tuesday Jan 2020
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Sparing Hannibal
According to romantic legend, besieged by war and famine the wise men of ancient Carthage naturally saw fit to sacrifice their children to Moloch.
Every time that a child was placed in them the priests of Moloch spread out their hands upon him to burden him with the crimes of the people, vociferating: “They are not men but oxen!” and the multitude round about repeated: “Oxen! oxen!” The devout exclaimed: “Lord! Eat!”
-Chapter Thirteen, “Moloch,” Salammbo, Gustave Flaubert (1862)
I mean, what else are you supposed to do? Wisest and noblest of all, Hamilcar, general and defender of the city, sent a slave’s child in place of his own son. The entire spectacle was said to horrify the barbarians.
In place of a gallant Hamilcar, America has Virginia Governor Ralph “Coonman” Northam. He took the nickname “Coonman” back in his blackface days. More recently, he’s been offering up the Commonwealth’s children to Baal Cronus Virginem via infanticide. “Not men but oxen!” Coonman has also set his sights on disarming Virginians. Last week, he declared a state of emergency in Richmond and prohibited the carrying of guns at a pro-gun rally. Allegedly he had heard of a plot by “white nationalists” to celebrate the Second Amendment or something. “White nationalists” are obviously people who do things like mockingly wear blackface and sanction child murder. Right? In what appeared to be a setup of another Charlottesville, the government has raced around making some highly dubious advance arrests – including three in GA.
In reality, the rally, held Monday, was planned and organized by the Virginia Citizens Defense League and was attended by average, ordinary NRA types – people, of all races, creeds, etc. who tire of state tyranny and who wished to demonstrate a reminder to the machinery of government that it is they, the people, who still hold power. This faction is generally thought of as leaning politically to the right. However, unsurprisingly, the right-wingers courted a few leftist allies. Forms of liberty being of at least nominal interest to more than one ideology, and with almost everyone (outside of the government) adopting the Second Amendment for what it is, Antifa joined the celebration, marching side-by-side with the NRA. Yes, Virginia, it is a weird world. Hey! I like to get these things in on a somewhat tenable schedule. Therefore, I’m wrapping this writing process up early on Monday afternoon. The rally appears to be peaceable, and that is excellent. Should anything develop, I’ll add a comment note – if needed – hopefully not. But still,
Watch Virginia
…
19 Sunday Jan 2020
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14 Tuesday Jan 2020
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Under the Omnibus
Your insane President, when he’s not murdering known diplomats, enjoys signing garbage legislation from the criminal Congress. Last month, at the urging of Bitch McConnell and the other reprobates, The Trump cheerfully signed into law a poorly-cobbled amalgamation of a spending bill. The Empire doesn’t do full budgets anymore, so it’s only $1.37 Trillion at a sad time – generally once per quarter. But the embarrassing expense of evil comes with other costs. The new law also raised the age for purchasing cigars and other tobacco products to 21. And, thank God! Now, I can finally enjoy a smoke without all those damned pesky toddlers roaming around the lounge crying and exchanging germs (sorry, Bess, what they do). The ban, as you may know, is plainly authorized by the Zeroth Amendment of the US Cornsternation.
Tweeted The Trump: “Our beautiful, beautiful children. So much smoke. IRAN WILL NEVER ROLL A CIGAR. My watch. SO SAD. Obama did it too. Yuuge. MIGA.” Ketchup on a well-done steak.
My tobacconist buddy’s new warning sign. Humorous dissent is, for now, still legal.
Building on this trend of creeping incrementalism, a sarcastic state senator in Vermont, John Rodgers, whom I’d kind of like to meet, introduced a bill to ban “children” under the age of 21 from owning or using cellular mind control and tracking devices. Rodgers noted that he wouldn’t even vote for the change himself, stating that he introduced it to make a point. “The kids” can’t buy smokes or beer. Why let them dull their minds and risk their lives sexting and driving? I might suggest a rider to raise the driving age as well.
Mr. Rodgers: please keep this one in your neighborhood. Should Trump, Pelosi, and the other shits get wind of it, they may well try to federalize the concept. I’m sure the CIA-OPA could quickly conjure up a convincing B-movie-like video showing some paid actors trashing an embassy or something because Iran wants to cellularize our youth. My only hope is that they would still allow 5G to proceed apace; in addition to the wonderful biological benefits you’ll soon experience from the well-tested super-duper-micro-hyper waves, you just wouldn’t believe what else they will enable. But, you will.
Anyway, all this got me thinking. Some few of you from time to time murmur that you oppose big government. Yet and still, later this year, you’ll rush right out and cast your votes to keep it around. So be it. I’m here to help, really. The other week, for the first time in my life, I proposed a tax – for the children! Now, I have another idea.
…
12 Sunday Jan 2020
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This week I shall tackle Iran (hopefully, the last time for a while) along with taxes, the election, cigars, and more. Stay tuned!
French lesson of the week: Je suis romancier.
07 Tuesday Jan 2020
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IF and IF NOT: New Year, New War?
(About the Iran Debacle)
This is perhaps the third completely rewritten version of a column I started on Sunday evening, after a refreshing impromptu luncheon with MB and Da (most delightful gentlemen, both). Part of our conversation veered to The Trump, Iraq, Iran, and the fate of the world. None of us, like everyone else, had any definitive answers for certain recent developments. Here follows, in admittedly imperfect form, what I can muster at this point; you most assuredly know the news as reported.
Preliminary Matters
On Friday, January 20, 2017, Donald John Trump stood on the steps of the Capitol and proudly, brashly proclaimed: “From this moment on, it’s going to be America First. Every decision on trade, on taxes, on immigration, on foreign affairs, will be made to benefit American workers and American families.”
In an earnest moment of clarity, he went on to say: “We will seek friendship and goodwill with the nations of the world – but we do so with the understanding that it is the right of all nations to put their own interests first. We do not seek to impose our way of life on anyone, but rather to let it shine as an example for everyone to follow.”
Later, towards the end of his speech, he embraced the Wisdom of King David (Psalm 133:1): “The Bible tells us, ‘how good and pleasant it is when God’s people live together in unity.’” If I remember correctly, at the time, I found the words refreshing, inspiring even. With all due respect to the Lord, the great King, and the unified People, I’m tempted to ask what the hell happened? I know just enough to resist the temptation. Instead, I offer “If” and “If Not” philosophical scenarios.
Also: virtually everything you’ve been told about foreign affairs and modern history by the government in Washington and by the CIA, I mean by the mainstream media, is utterly false. Most of what you’ve been told about the history of the past two centuries is largely fictitious as well. Three things of late to consider: ISIS, a mercenary, and a mob. Regardless of what lies you’ve been fed, ISIS was created by and is funded, equipped, armed, trained, and directed by the CIA and to a lesser degree the DOD; its purpose is to destabilize the Middle East for the benefit of Israel and Saudi Arabia. A US mercenary, called by some a “contractor,” was killed while serving as an advisor to ISIS, the blame being placed on Iranian General Qasem Suleimani. Suleimani is credited with keeping ISIS out of Iran and also with defeating or nearly defeating ISIS in Iraq and Syria. For his trouble, the US Empire killed him last week. But first, he was blamed for another lie – the mob siege of the fortress-like US Imperial Embassy in the middle of the damned green zone in Baghdad. That attack, I am convinced, never happened. What was shown on television, a crazed cowboys and indians show, was a scripted performance, not unlike a scene (also in Iraq) that deceased German journalist Udo Ulfkotte described in his book, Gekaufte Journalisten (Bought Journalism). The drone strike on Suleimani was unfortunately real. It’s the “why” that everyone is having a hard time with.
IF
Around the time of my first drafting of this article, I began to hear rumors of Machiavellian, or Trumpian, nature. That 4-D underwater chess stuff the Q brigade is always “patriots stand!”-ing about. What if the rumors are right? What if all this fuss and the assassination of Suleimani was orchestrated not to start a war, but to prevent (or end) one.
…
UPDATE: Looks like a real shooting war.
I’d suspect they are targeting offensive air capabilities. If they immediately go after the carriers and also have S400s, then this will get very dicey. Thank you grabblers.
06 Monday Jan 2020
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31 Tuesday Dec 2019
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Taxes…
Wherein Perrin PROPOSES a Tax
I know. I was shocked too. But, it’s a new year (happy 1998!) and we must all change with the times. Everyone can agree that if America needs something, then it’s a privatized college football league. If there’s anything else, then it’s another tax. All the cool politi-critters are a squeaking away about it – like fat stupid rats locked in the cheese factory. If the peeps could be roused from the sofas and the Netflix-Sackler Family comas, then they’d be on-board too. And, this is not an idea that I come to lightly. Careful study of the articles even here at TPC gives credence to the popularity of the phenomenon.
MB lamented both the death and the fiscal failings of The Textile Man: “There’s so many folks out there that bust ass every October & December to make those property tax payments & here he was just not paying them.” Our esteemed editor, just last week, pondered why the home county folks “don’t pay their damned property taxes…” Seriously, you scofflaw slackers! If you don’t turn over your money (and, is it really ever “yours”?), then how can the good Sheriff continue to pay Commy Traig or whomever hundreds of thousands of dollars per year!? Any and all local political corruption depends on your financing. Do your damned jobs!
Da hit the national tax scene hard, heavy, and nobly with his Letter to the 2020 Democratic Nominee: “we still need a wealth tax for the good of us all.” Here, here! You darn tootin’ we do!
I have not spoken with Bess, Kayla, Fred, the Sheriff, or the Sharif about this, but I know for certain they are all in agreement.
Da was right – we need a wealth tax. It’s time for the truly wealthy to pay their fair share. And, truly, who’s wealthier than … The Federal Reserve? Back in October, I replied, in agreement, to Mr. Millsaps heartfelt thoughts as follows: “How about a 100% tax on all Federal Reserve assets, real, fake, and potential? I’ve got an idea…” Well, I do. Here it is…
25 Wednesday Dec 2019
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The following was recently published AT TPC. It’s a continuation of the Roland-Maryanna saga from last week. These stories combined form a loose chapter in the slowly evolving and developing SANQUINIS LEX, a forthcoming novel of some note. More on that later.
For now, please enjoy the charming story.
Or, below in whatever format the WP gods see fit to allow:
*****
A Gift After Christmas
Reagan National Airport, Washington, DC, Late Saturday Morning…
Roland zipped up his jacket against the cold late December wind as he walked out of the terminal. He watched his breath float off in a cloud, furiously punctured by small flakes of dry snow. For a moment, he turned his head and looked up at the control tower, jutting into a grey sky above the arched canopy. Then, he looked south, down Aviation Circle. He saw her little Honda Civic dart between buses as it lurched towards the inner lane. In a few seconds, she stopped at the curb, hazard lights flashing. Clutching his lone bag to his body, he hastily descended into the passenger seat. Her incredible face was waiting and smiling eagerly.
‘Hello, beautiful,’ he said sheepishly.
‘Hello, handsome,’ she answered. ‘I brought you a Starbucks. And an Uber, with that kiss.’ While pointing to the capped cup with a green stir stick, she leaned over and planted one on him, long and deep. She tasted like Strawberries. Winter ceased and the world halted for a moment as they indulged fresh new love. It would have continued but for an angry honking from behind.
Withdrawing, she glanced in the mirror. ‘Alright, jerk. We’re moving. So, how was your flight?’
‘I almost missed the connection in Charlotte. They have all these rocking chairs, and it was so early, so tired, I almost fell asleep in one. My eyes were closing when they gate-called. But, otherwise, everything was fine. Hope you didn’t have to wait long.’
‘No,’ she said, as she eased them into traffic. ‘Been here about forty-five minutes. The cell lot is under construction or something, so I just snuck here and there around short term. Checked some emails. Got a heavy one from Father A. I had breakfast with him earlier this morning and he said he’d send me, send us something. And boy, did he. We’ll look at it at your place. He gave me – hang on.’
She started the tortuous process of merging onto the George Washington Parkway. Roland looked at her while he sipped his coffee. Then, he spoke softly and thoughtfully: ‘I love you, Maryanna. I love you.’ He smiled and sighed. ‘It feels even better saying it in person.’
She laughed as she accelerated into the travel lane, making eye contact with him for a split second. ‘I love you, Roland. Hmm. It does feel better like this.’
They both chuckled. He took off his glove and lightly brushed his hand down her long hair. ‘I don’t want to distract you, but I really, really am glad to see you again.’
‘Really, really?’ she asked with a laugh. ‘You’re the sweetest. How did we meet again?’
‘If you remember, you kept calling about legislation,’ he answered with a smirk. ‘What’s the Senator thinking? When can I interview him? How much opposition is there? Do you have leadership support? Have you spoken with the White House?’
‘Yeah, I was happy to get through the gatekeepers to you. I didn’t know you were so cute.’
‘Ha! I knew about you – in a good way. After your twentieth call in two days, we – Senator Few and I – looked you up. He said, “Look at her! Boy, you better call that one back. You do it, or I’m going to have to.” Jesus knows I’m glad I did.’ He stopped talking but kept staring at her. Then, he leaned over and kissed her cheek.
‘You! I want… Ah, heck. Hang on!’ she said with sudden, ardent determination. With a move that surprised both of them, she pulled hard right and they careened off the freeway and into Gravelly Point. In a minute, they were parked and frantically making out the way high schoolers used to when America was happier. After maybe an hour, after the ninth or tenth inbound jet rumbled directly overhead, they slowed. She cuddled into his arms, smelling his cologne and rubbing his shoulder. His arms were tight around her. Without coordination, their joint gaze wandered over the Potomac and to the golf course on the other side. His eyes held the view while hers closed. She inhaled and purred.
‘How are your parents? The rest of the family?’ she finally asked, still lost in the placid embrace.
He lowered his head onto hers, nuzzling and smelling her hair. ‘They’re all great. Everyone had a wonderful time. I think they’re as in love with you as I am. Glad one of us finally has a real, decent romantic interest. Mom framed your picture and put it in the hall with the other family. Won’t stop talking about you and us. How’re your folks and Corby?’
‘They’re good. Very good. Corby had a great Christmas. He’s feeling better. Mom and dad seemed a little preoccupied with something that they wouldn’t talk about. But otherwise, we all had a great time. Like the old times when I lived at home. It was so nice. The only thing missing was you. Of course, you were all they, all of them wanted to talk about.’
‘Did you get any questions about work?’ he asked.
‘A few. But, I think they know not to pry too much, even if they don’t know why. You?’
‘Yeah. A couple of times. I’ve found the best way to divert away is to get into the arcane details. Bore them with policy.’ He almost laughed about it.
‘Yeah. I have the old editorial process and MLA style to bore them into submission. But, they kind of understand things have gotten – you know. Without knowing.’ She was looking up at his clean-shaven face.
‘I wish we didn’t know, sometimes. I wish that a lot actually,’ he said.
‘But, we do,’ she answered as she leaned back into her seat. ‘At least we have a few friends to confide in. A few allies. That reminds me. Open the glove box.’
Roland looked inside and removed an envelope and a small white box. Turning to Maryanna, he asked, ‘Do you know what’s in the box?’
‘I do,’ she said. ‘Read the card.’
She waited while he slowly read the missive from Father Alojzy, a kindly-worded message of Christmas joy, laced with encouraging remarks. Finished, he remarked, ‘He’s a true man of God. Wonderful. Why do I feel like I’ve always known him?’
‘I know, right?’ she said with a smile. ‘Meeting him – and it does feel like reconnecting with an old friend – was the most pleasant thing, after meeting you, that is. I think he was sent to us. Or us to him.’
‘When should I see his email?’ Roland asked.
‘At home, not here. Not just yet. I don’t want to darken our mood,’ she answered.
‘Is it that bad?’ he asked.
‘No. Not… Well, yes, this is all bad. But, he did get some information. He heard back from his friend, I guess, in Rome, from the AIE.’
‘Hard to believe they’re real, now, isn’t it?’ Roland interrupted.
‘I know. But, they sent him a wealth of research on both the movement and those behind it. Ancient stuff. And – this is where it gets even heavier – our giant new friend sent some confirming material along with a few plans of action. He’s fully analyzed everything off of the poor nurse’s phone, and much more. He sent it all encrypted to Father A. Like in a spy novel or something.’
‘Hard to believe he’s real too. What do you think we should even call him?’ Roland interrupted again.
‘If I understand Father’s hints correctly, then the big guy is about to start putting a little pressure on them. Directly and in the way one might guess he’s really good at – even against their kind. I think the nickname is appropriate. I looked it up. It’s a Tolkien character, the mightiest of the Valar sent to battle Melkor in a time of desperate need. Kind of fitting it seems to me. Or, we could just keep calling him a friend. God knows we need one like him.’ She was staring out at the water again.
He took her chin gently in his hand, diverting her attention into his face as he pressed in close to hers. ‘We need them and we need us. I thought about this the whole flight. The whole vacation. God sent us to be together. And, I think we were chosen to do this, this work. We need all the help, but we also have each other.’ He rested his forehead on hers.
Caressing his head, she sighed, ‘A reward. Strength. Whatever you are. What we are. I’ll take it. And the friends, yes. Father had some stern words for me – his own and from Big T. Neither are still all that happy about my little West Coast getaway.’
‘Yeah. That kind of surprised everyone, you little sneak,’ He softly whispered. ‘But hey, I’m not so sure that you weren’t meant to have that experience, however, uh, silly it might have looked. Or, how dangerous it really was.’
‘You mean to say how foolish, not silly, I think,’ she said sorrowfully, distantly.
‘No. Whatever it was, it wasn’t foolish,’ he kindly reassured. ‘You survived and you helped us better understand things. Maybe you even put them on the defensive for once. Call it the Holy Spirit working through you.’
She held his face in her warm hands and gifted him one small kiss. ‘Thank you. They both kind of concluded the same thing, if reluctantly. Your kindness- Oh! Would you believe that the Hell’s Angels called me on Christmas day to check in?! Martha and Rick and all the boys wanted to wish me a happy holiday! I have friends in very high places!’
‘You’d make friends anywhere with anyone,’ he said as he stroked her hair. ‘Someone’s plan in action. I think they were purposefully in the right place at the right time. Tattooed protection!’
‘And! Speaking of that – open the box, boyfriend!’
‘Boyfriend?! We’re moving a little fast, now, aren’t we?’
‘You’re stuck with the title until we can bump it up a notch,’ she rejoined with a devilish grin.
‘Is this a ring or something?’ he asked.
‘Open it, dork.’
Roland opened the box and removed from it a slender silver Crucifix on a silver chain. He held it up and examined it thoroughly. ‘It’s-’
‘He gave me an identical model,’ she said as she lowered her turtleneck and pointed to the glimmering necklace.
‘Pretty. Very pretty on you. Is this one of the legends that turn out to be true?’ he asked.
‘Yes, it is. Pretty or not, you need to wear yours. Father Blessed them both in front of me, for us and especially against, you know- He said to put it on and to never take it off.’