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PERRIN LOVETT

~ Deo Vindice

PERRIN LOVETT

Tag Archives: TPC

Georgia Demographic Demise

08 Friday Jan 2021

Posted by perrinlovett in Legal/Political Columns, Other Columns

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demographics, Georgia, TPC

Eye of Newt wrote as good a column about the GOP defeat in GA as any Boomercon could. He’s kind of right but just can’t connect the dots. The reason, and there’s one, why the “Demoncrats” swept the dying state of Georgia is patently, painfully obvious. I have thought about addressing that in my next TPC column. I’m still waiting on Trump to finally ACT! While we wait, I may give GA a shot if just to entertain the few TPC readers who don’t embrace the TL;DR, the libertarian, or the gamma. You’ll know it if you see it. I am working (hard) on the next segments in my FP series on surviving the Civil War. Stay tuned.

And a Pardon in a Pear Tree – Christmas Fiction from Somewhat Current Events

23 Wednesday Dec 2020

Posted by perrinlovett in fiction, Other Columns

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column, fiction, short story, Tom Ironsides, TPC

And a Pardon in a Pear Tree

 

London City Airport, Early Evening…

No one had explained a word about the sudden change in scenery. An outside NHS doctor spent over an hour assessing his general condition, at intervals consulting with nurses and his solitary handlers. He thought he’d asked for his attorney or his advocate, but he simply couldn’t remember. The flat American accents had tipped him off, and if he was honest, he had long suspected this day would come. They didn’t even ask him to sign anywhere, nor did they present him any writ or order. Four sturdy men in suits, in addition to the usual guards, had escorted him from the infirmary to the transfer bay. Two of these bespoke Yankees rode along with him in the back of an SUV. He thought he glimpsed unmarked police cars in a short procession, but he wasn’t sure. 

   Little of it, any of it, made sense. And he didn’t have much time to process what was happening. Nearly a decade of hiding, waiting, and suffering had crawled by him, only for this evening’s unexplained venture from Belmarsh, and the short, fast drive under the Thames (he guessed it was the Blackwall Tunnel), and now he was securely in the custody of – someone. Who were his new friends? The FBI? CIA? As the surprisingly well-appointed business jet began to swing around on its approach to the lone runway, he realized something. Whoever they were, they had not shackled him!

   In fact, once on board, they had begun treating him rather well, more like a guest than a prisoner. Something in the cabin smelled sweet, familiar almost. He was seated in a comfortable leather chair and was just sipping from a bottle of Perrier when the pilot hastily announced their imminent departure. One of these agents, if that was the word, a large man seated across a small table from him, gestured for him to fasten his seatbelt. The gesture came with a smile, something to which he was no longer accustomed. No sooner than he had secured himself and turned to gaze out the window than the plane launched forward, soon climbing over the River, passing on the one side a sewage plant and, on the other, the sewer of a prison he’d of late called his home. In a few minutes, he realized they must have already been closing on the Delta, heading, he assumed, due east towards Antwerp. He couldn’t be exactly certain, but there came the feeling that the craft slowed in the air and subtly turned to the south – to what degree, he did not know.

   And, just as he gave thought to another effervescent sip and perhaps a request for something solid to eat, another man kindly invited him forward to the flight deck. Entering through the open cockpit door, he beheld before and below him, shrouded in moving darkness, what he took for the Channel and, far ahead, the lights of the Continent. Two men sat under dim lights behind a sea of screens and controls. The younger one, on the right, was dressed in a similar if more understated fashion as the rest of the crew. He looked like the government issue. The other man, older, and obviously in charge of the flight, bore an altogether different look and demeanor. He was half slouched over to his left, with his arm resting near the window. His right hand lazily, casually held the yoke. His black hair, flecked with sprinkled salt, was shaggier than one would have assumed, as was his short, stubbly beard. He was chewing on a cigar and wore, over powerfully-built arms and shoulders, what could only be described as the tackiest of Christmas sweaters. Upon entering, he caught the end of a short conversation between the pilots.

   The older casual man on the left was quipping in answer to something: ‘…Corona is a hoax, Biden didn’t win, and Gina didn’t kill herself. Eff- it!’

   ‘Yeah, right. Listen, RAF and the Bude are blowing up again about it, Tom,’ said the younger man on the right, ‘like it popped up out of nowhere.’

   Unperturbed, the man of the left gave a dry response: ‘I know. Ninety-high and tracking our position perfectly?’

   ‘You know?’ the young man asked incredulously.

   ‘Yeah,’ the older man hummed, ‘or, I suspected. He’s with us. An escort.’

   ‘Then, who is he?’ asked the younger man.

   ‘Santa Claus…’

   He could no longer contain his bewilderment. ‘Whose plane is this?’ he asked, more to the older man.

   The whimsical pilot immediately pivoted around and smiled sincerely. ‘My brother-in-law’s!’ he said happily. ‘Well, he bought it, as a tax write-off and so forth, but I get to fly her. Keep her down in Hickory. She’s not a lot of use most of the time, what with the price of fuel but, for this jaunt, Uncle Sucker is picking up the whole tab!’

   ‘Who are you?’ he asked, feeling even more bewildered than before.

   ‘I’m Tom,’ the pilot said, extending his hand (leaving the yoke floating momentarily), ‘and this is Freddy,’ he said nodding to the younger man who smiled slightly at the introduction. ‘May I call you Julian?’ Tom asked.

   ‘Yes, uh, yes, that’s me,’ was Julian’s answer, before he ventured another question: ‘Are you CIA?’

   ‘No,’ the pilot said flatly and proudly. ‘The guys in the back are Marshals, or Secret Service, or something or another. Freddy here is Company, but I’m not. Not anymore. I’m just a guy with some cheap time and a plane. Welcome aboard the White Hat Express!’

   He stumbled through his more recent memories for a moment before uttering: ‘Tom? You’re the professor?’

   ‘At your service, pen pal!’ Tom replied with a smile.

   ‘You two have been corresponding?’ Freddie asked with sudden interest or alarm.

   ‘Yeah,’ Tom said dismissively. ‘Now, Julian, where to?’

   ‘What do you mean?’ Julian asked.

   ‘I mean where do you want me to take you?’ Tom asked. Then, he clumsily tapped at a few of the screens above the throttle. ‘I’ve got nine-thousand, or ninety-five-hundred kilometers worth of range. Can’t make Australia, directly, but, there’s … Sweden? No, maybe not. Paris is just over the horizon. You probably aren’t keen on the States just yet—’

   ‘They’re keen on him,’ Freddy added.

   ‘Well, not yet,’ Tom said. ‘You just think about it, Julian, and let me know. I can hold over the Channel if I need to. Try not to take too long. I have a mountain cabin full of women who are probably angry with me about this side trip. Missing Christmas and all that, you know.’

   ‘You’re not taking me to a prison in America?!’ Julian asked perplexedly.

   ‘No, why would I?’ Tom questioned. ‘You’re a free man. It’s in the— Wait, they didn’t tell you?!’

   ‘Tell me what?’ Julian was confused. ‘No.’

   ‘Well then, the honor is mine,’ Tom said proudly again, ‘You’re free! Full pardon. Freddy or one of them has the paperwork. And, not to burden you, but you are requested – at your convenience – for a special consultation on some more recent, pressing matters. The uh, the shitshow, you know? There’s a storm about to hit. Hard. Anyway, Merry Christmas, old man!’

   Julian leaned on the door, feeling a lump moving up and through his throat. A pardon? He thought. For—

   As if reading his new friend’s thoughts, Tom quietly added, ‘Not that you did anything wrong. But, all’s safe and legal now. And, I’m serious. Wherever you want. Got family somewhere? Or, friends? Why don’t you talk it over with her and get back to me.’

   ‘Talk to whom?’ Julian asked as tears filled his lower eyes. ‘Who is her, she?’

   Tom looked sidelong at Freddy and almost growled, ‘You didn’t fucking tell him?! He hasn’t seen her yet? It’s a small plane!’

   ‘We had her scooch down in a rear seat, and she’s obviously still playing along,’ Freddy said defensively. ‘It was going to be part of the surprise, along with the pardon. Then, you had to take off like a wildman and—’

   Tom cut Freddy’s explanation short. Holding the intercom button, he spoke out loudly and clearly, ‘Sweetheart, come on up here. He really needs you.’

   Julian, utterly confused, wiped his sleeve over his eyes. But, she was already there. From behind him, a golden, sultry voice cooed over his shoulder, ‘Hello, beautiful.’

   Turning, he looked into her eyes. His jaw dropped even as she moved in quickly to heartily embrace him. He exclaimed, ‘Pamela!’

*And now, this column [AT TPC] will enter into a short period of festive rest. I intend to return in the new year, not later than the invocation of the Insurrection Act or the commencement of President Trump’s second term. Merry Christmas to all and a very happy 2021! -Perrin

At seen, 12/22, at TPC!

Debt and Bombs: A Brief History of The Federal Reserve System and Post-World War I United States Foreign Policy

25 Wednesday Nov 2020

Posted by perrinlovett in Legal/Political Columns, Other Columns

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America, bombs, culture, debt, economics, Federal Reserve, foreign policy, history, politics, TPC, United States

Debt and Bombs

A Brief History of The Federal Reserve System and Post-World War I United States Foreign Policy

As seen, in full, at The Piedmont Chronicles, with the following note:

*Ed. note: what follows is a commissioned, feature piece on a subject that is key to a true understanding of what exactly is the REAL Story as it applies to…almost everything related to D.C., banking, foreign policy & the military. It is a critical analysis of how the two gravest threats to the endurance of the Republic – the Fed & the MIC/War Machine – work in concert & feed off of one another to continue to erode our national sovereignty & enrichen the power elite. Now, add to that, the current phenomenon of an attempt at a “great reset” & one can safely assume that those of us who prefer Freedom & Liberty have a lot to be concerned about; however, like any true threat, one must know the full backstory. This is a piece that I’ve had in the mental backburner for years but could never really get any traction on — Perrin the Pro knocked it out in less than a week. A slightly longer read, but a necessary one. As always, we appreciate you reading. — MBM

During the same week, news broke that former Fed Chairman Janet Yellen was under consideration for Treasury Secretary in a putative Biden administration and that the current President had explored the option of bombing Iran. Debt and bombs, together, and not for the first time. These two topics in American history and geopolitical policy are intrinsically, intricately related and intertwined, one dependent on the other in a strange dual parasitic relationship. You, dear American, are the host.

The Federal Reserve sprang forth from the aptly-named Federal Reserve Act of 1913. United States foreign policy, post-WWI, unsurprisingly started in or after 1918, though the foundations were laid well before the War to End All Wars (that didn’t) began in 1914. Again the astute reader might notice close temporal proximity. That is no coincidence.

However, outside of an American connection, these twin matters are near-eternal in nature. Long has the world hosted and suffered international meddling, for good or ill, and usurious, nefarious lending schemes, always for ill.

Show Me The Coin

Some 2,000 years ago, a certain itinerant street preacher conversed with the leading client-state religious leaders of His day:

“‘Show Me the money you pay the tax with.’ They handed Him a denarius, and He said, ‘Whose portrait is this? Whose title?’ They replied, ‘Caesar’s.’ Then He said to them, ‘Very well, pay Caesar what belongs to Caesar – and God what belongs to God.’ When they heard this they were amazed; they left Him alone and went away.”

-Matthew 22:19-22 (KJV)

We’re not so lucky; if only they would leave us alone. Of course, not long after that meeting and following a lecture on their paternity, these wayward leaders delivered the Son up for Imperial judgment. There is, in this short passage, a lesson and a warning. Contrary to popular belief (or lack thereof), this dialogue is in no way an endorsement of taxation. Rather, Jesus exposed the Pharisees as blasphemous hypocrites. The coin in question was not a standard Imperial Roman model. It was a newly devised silver piece, especially for use by Tiberious and the elites of his day, and which bore allegiant inscriptions to both Athena and to Augustus, the “living god.” To bring such money into the Temple – for any purpose – was a direct affront to Our Heavenly Father. Thus, Christ instructed that it stay with its proper debased and debasing owners. 

This was but one of the examples innumerable of coin shaving, coin substitution, and numismatic treachery throughout history. And again, it was no coincidence that this particular example happened concurrently with Roman expansion into the Levant, Gaul, Britannia, and other foreign spheres. It is unusual in that the replacement metal was of greater value than the bronze denarius, a distinction erased as years slipped by. Our own experience these past 107 years has been a steady devaluation, from valuable metal-based currency to metal-linked paper, to paper, attractive yet worthless, and now, to ones and zeros in computers.

“Money,” like all other words, has a definition. What has been historically traded as currency, in lieu of bartering, has been: portable, fungible, scarce, and intrinsically valuable. Gold – rare, uniform, and useful in its own right – meets the definition nicely. By itself, how much value is held in a line of code? What is the literal measure and value of the thing itself, the screen of binary characters? These questions and these contrasts matter. And, they are not unique to the last century in American history. 

Vipers and Thieves

Given enough time and enough exposure to human reality, any monetary system will evolve or devolve the same as any other custom or practice. Yet, for truly exceptional malfeasance, one needs a centralized banking system. “Free” banking, or national banking, or even state or private banking, even if they are chaotic, with their structural de-linking are somewhat immune to total debasement due to forces of competition; if Bank X’s currency or the currency of North Carolina goes bad, then a user may always resort to the money of Texas or of Bank Y. A mandatory monopoly presents a more dire environment.

The Federal Reserve is the fourth central bank foisted upon the nation and the people. The first three were ill-fated and short-lived. They were the Bank of North America (effective 1782 – 1791), the First Bank of the United States (1791 – 1811-ish), and the Second Bank of the United States (1816 – 1836 (or 1841)). Yes, somehow America existed, grew, and prospered in the absence of a central bank for some 70 years. 

Most famous in the telling of these former institutions was the demise of the Second Bank, at the capable hands of Andrew Jackson who declared unto the speculators and grifters of his day, “You are a den of vipers and thieves. I have determined to rout you out, and by the Eternal, I will rout you out!” He did. 

No character of the magnitude of Jesus has been seen since His Ascension. Sadly, later-day America lacked and lacks even a man the likes of Jackson. What was once routed managed to creep back, its malice all the greater and its plan the vaster. 

Enter The Creature

Read – and this is mandatory – The Creature from Jekyll Island by G. Edward Griffin (American Media, 1994). Griffin’s stout book is both a practical, well-explained, and documented manual of how the Fed operates and a detailed history of how it descended upon the burgeoning Empire. 

1913 was more of a process than an event or a single year, per se; it was a meeting of forces. Names are named and agendas are (belatedly) exposed by Griffin. In short summary, various dark groups converged in the well-appointed shadows and created a monster of a machine perhaps unequaled in history. Their final Act, Pub. L. 63-63 (1913) (an astounding section of which we will read, below), occurred near-simultaneously with other major changes that collapsed what remained of the old American Empire (your Republic died in 1861) into the new US Empire. 

1909 saw both the Dick Act (stripping states of military power) and the introduction of Scofield’s fantasy Bible (paving the way of rapture dispensationalism and the eventual Judaizing of American Evangelism, which heavily impacted affairs domestic and foreign). 1913 also ushered in the 16th Amendment (confiscatory taxation to support the Fed) and the 17th Amendment (ending state control of the Senate). The politically demographic-crushing 19th Amendment was only a few years away. Why so many changes in such close proximity?

Because, in the eyes and minds of the elites of the early-20th Century, the time had come to implement their many agendas. Among them were: the replacement of Great Britain as the world’s economic and military superpower, the demographic alteration and replacement of the heritage American population, the astronomical growth of federal reach, power, and spending, the subjugation of American power to an alien entity, debt for debt’s sake – all else be damned, and global overreach – war without end.

Beyond displacing England, the Fed itself accomplished several things. It provided the stupid and diabolical political class with a mechanism for entering into all facets of life, public and private; money was no longer any impediment. For the greedy, pharisaical banksters, it allowed a gradual, yet total absorption of all true wealth and value from the nation and the people. Somewhere in between, the “titans of industry” couldn’t have been happier. A 1,000-word picture from The Creature, page 211, of a 1911 newspaper cartoon, says it all: the men of industry, willing to trade all they had, skin for skin, were “Dee-Lighted” … to meet Karl Marx. In truth, they and the rest of us received something far worse than nascent communism.

So, what exactly, does the Fed do? What is its purpose? According to the “About the Fed” page at federalreserve.gov (which is utterly misplaced as a URL and a concept – it’s not federal and there are no reserves), the answer is: “The Federal Reserve Act of 1913 established the Federal Reserve System as the central bank of the United States to provide the nation with a safer, more flexible, and more stable monetary and financial system.” What benevolent-sounding bullshit.

They make “money,” literally creating it out of thin air. As such, what is produced – by the tens of trillions of dollars – does not meet the definition of real money. It is a fiat currency and no more. Concerning those Federal Reserve Notes in the wallet, which we all foolishly exchange as real money, the law is clear:

“Federal reserve notes, to be issued at the discretion of the Board of Governors of the Federal Reserve System for the purpose of making advances to Federal reserve banks through the Federal reserve agents as hereinafter set forth and for no other purpose, are authorized. … They shall be redeemed in lawful money on demand at the Treasury Department of the United States, in the city of Washington, District of Columbia, or at any Federal Reserve bank.” 

-12 U.S.C. § 411. 

If they can be redeemed for lawful money, then they themselves are not lawful money. But, go ahead – try toting a bill, of any amount, into a Fed bank for redemption. Don’t really! There could only be a few outcomes for such action, including arrest or being violently bounced out on the head. They cannot be redeemed because we no longer have actual money in this country. Real money was minted by the Treasury, under laws established by Congress in fulfillment of some moot, antiquated clause from Article One of the dead and bygone Constitution. There was some vague idea about silver and gold. But, no longer.

The mechanisms of accomplishment are both extravagant and simple. I intentionally steer away, here, from the concept of “fractional reserve” lending, because the reserves have been fractured into nothingness. And, the “multiplier” effect, which Griffin equates to a comedic magic trick, has multiplied the supply of false money into the realm of pure fantasy. The periodic adjustments to the process (Bretton Woods, etc.), while interesting, are effectively moot for our examination.

Action after clandestine conference after allegiances with foreign central banks (to include the master vampire, the Bank for International Settlements, CH) after sleight of hand removed the underlying specie from the fiat. What one now holds is backed merely by lies and the threat of violent reprisal. Nixon closed the final link to the gold standard, long watered-down by the time of his Presidency; Congress made permanent the decree a few years later. Real value is for the money changers. You can make do with debts and paper promises.  They literally stole the gold:

“Section 2. All persons are hereby required to deliver on or before May 1, 1933, to a Federal Reserve Bank or a branch or agency thereof or to any member bank of the Federal Reserve System all gold coin, gold bullion and gold certificates now owned by them or coming into their ownership on or before April 28, 1933…”

-Executive Order 6102 (April 5, 1933).

FDR’s theft was soon codified on a corrupt Capitol Hill. The strong-armed AU was not, please note, surrendered to the President, Congress, or any other entity or agent of the government. Rather, it was handed over directly to a private banking cabal. With real money in their possession, they were free, working with the politicians, to flood the nation with almost limitless fake currency. 

Here, a short break:

Fun Fact One! Any contract or, more particularly, any debt instrument that one might sign today is denominated in United States Dollars – which no longer exist. However, it is universally paid in Federal Reserve Notes. The latter also technically does not exist before the signing, therefore the money for the loan is created by the loan. (How one pays usurious interest in such circumstances is another matter – of time, sweat, and life-stealing work, something akin to slavery or partial murder). All of these loans are impossible, fraudulent, and void, and would be so declared if the rule of law still held sway.

Fun Fact Two! There was, some sixty years ago, a President who stood up for sanity against this long, slow slide into oblivion. He noticed a lack of certain bills and asked the Fed to print more. They refused. Over their objections, he ordered the Treasury to print a batch of real dollars. (Should one be found, it is a collector’s item as most were removed from circulation by around 1970). Something bad happened to that President in the streets of Dallas.

Now, there is a little more to add concerning the net effect of and the more recent history of the devil’s bank. But, first, I thought it might be wise to quickly examine how some of that fake money secured, for a short while, America’s preeminence in the world.

An abundance of spending power, feeble legal limitations literally notwithstanding, allowed Washington to do many, many curious things. The encroachment on domestic affairs is a subject for another day. Overseas, the Empire operated and operates in several ways. In general, it buys influence. The Fed’s backing has allowed what may best be termed “bribery” of and for our friends and foes alike. See, here, the US involvement in the United Nations, NATO, other international organizations, and additional regional or nation-specific policies. In other ways, at other times, the US trades away resources and influence. American foreign economic policy has become little more than the giving away of American wealth and jobs. Take your pick of any “free trade” agreement – NAFTA, CAFTA, etc. – all of them resulting in deficits for the US. Any nation on the negative side of a commercial relationship is necessarily losing; it would be better if the US engaged in no foreign trade, under such terms, at all. On its end of the lopped-sided agreements, the US imports materials, including junk products and spyware along with a steady supply of incompatible, mostly-third world migrants. The US losses, relentlessly, on both the “front” and the “back” end of these deals.

However, most attention-grabbing foreign adventures involve war.

Bombs Away

Here follow a short and partial list of the places and wars in which the US Empire has engaged itself since the hatching of the Creature: WWI, Philippines, China, Cuban, WWII, Korea, Vietnam, Iran, Grenada, Lebanon, Panama, Iraq, Somalia, Haiti, the Balkans, Afghanistan, Libya, Syria, Yemen, Liberia. There are many more, some you probably have never heard of. Each had a purpose and each was greatly enabled by the easy credit provided by the Federal Reserve system. These interventions frequently involve second, third, and even more episodes and often stretch over decades. They provide several things, including: a false sense of jingoistic pride; something for the government to do; ways to distract the people from domestic changes and challenges; ways for the government, the bankers, and the corporations to control and fleece the distracted people; large profits for profiteers, mercenaries, and assorted vultures; huge profits for the military-industrial complex; and; massive profits for the international banking cabal.

WWI and WWII, which Pat Buchanan collectively refers to as the Great Civil War of the West, were tests, the first to see if they “could do it,” the second to cement the fact they could. Interestingly, the on-again, off-again pattern of Congressional declarations of war ended in 1941. Any pretense of compassion and civility ended in 1945. Centuries of Anglo-American legal traditions and protections ended by 1946. A new world order was forged in atomic fire with the United States seemingly at its head – a fleeting moment, for things rapidly devolved.

Few can intelligently articulate why the US was ever involved in Vietnam, fewer still as regarding Iran and Panama. Since no later than 1990, all foreign adventures were based on lies, deceptions, and overt, blind, and reckless projection of force for its own sake. More recently, even the lamest of excuses were abandoned. “Here’s why…” was replaced with “we just are.”

The past few years have witnessed a shift in the global paradigm of military power and effectiveness. The Empire that hadn’t won a war since 1945 (and, then, only with astounding Soviet assistance and sacrifice) began to face a series of checkmates among the small, virtually-powerless nations the kind of which it had in previous decades dominated (though always without victory). This change was the product of many factors, not the least of which was the fulfillment of the bankers’ goal of subsuming all wealth and capacity from host America. The objective of the game had become waste and, at a certain point, enough was wasted to blunt any martial effectiveness. Another splendid little war was halted in Syria by a Russia armed with a sane mandate, advanced weapons, and free from the parasitic encumbrances that had eaten the core of America. Another cakewalk in Venezuela was similarly checked from Moscow. The neocons’ satanic dream of all-out war with Iran met a thundering roadblock one night in Iraq, a defeat delivered by the Iranians themselves. China now rules the waters in her backyard, projecting an ability to scatter the Seventh Fleet and the collected USAF air wings from the region at will. North Korea, with kilotons and rockets, is essentially immune to all American reprisals. The Pentagon, Langley, and the RAND Corporation all readily admit, upon consultation with experts human and computer, that the US cannot win any substantial engagement against Russia, China, or certainly a combined alliance of those rising powers. The same models predict woeful, impossible performance from the “mighty” US war machine even as against a determined coalition of American patriots at home – should any exist.

Another aspect of foreign policy, which directly impacts the homefront, bears mentioning here. As Donald Trump admitted during the fall of 2020, the US has been involved in the affairs and conflicts of the Middle East not on its own behalf, but on that of Israel. Our banking friends have also benefited handsomely. The price was paltry (by apocalyptic standards) with only millions killed, maimed, and displaced. This manner of bringing light unto the world naturally engendered hostility in certain quarters; the US kicked a hornet’s nest, repeatedly. That violence alone was poor enough judgment. Yet, then, the most impressive betrayal of intelligence occurred! Thanks to the law of 1965, long in the planning – perhaps as far back as, say, 1913 – a horde of the enraged hornets were courteously imported into the remains of the American nation. Some were brought in under the auspices of a specific plan, some as free agents of whatever chaos they might sow, and still more for the mere, constant shifting of demographic destiny. On all of these fronts, the new invaders initially flourished – 9/11, Pulse, the great Ohio Honda attack, etc. Yet, in the mind of your author, the outright attacks have of late subsided. The agents are still here, still ready, but they are not stupid. Theirs has become more of a waiting period, to see what comes and to allow growing internal divisions to deal the heaviest blows. The optimists among us might declare that the Fed and the nation-destroyers, for all their faults innumerable, have at least tamed ISIS! Realistically, we may have reached the point where the veracity of their notions simply no longer matters. 

The hour grows late.

Several Seconds Until Midnight

Equalizing for robust monetary inflation one may compare prices and costs over time. In such fashion and relative to prices in 1952, the current price of a house in the US is 3.5 times as expensive as it was then. The price of a new automobile has more than doubled. Tuition at our “best” universities has increased over eight-fold. Yet, over the same 68 years, incomes have been cut in half. Again, that giant sucking sound one hears is the vampire draining away the last drops from a necrotic host. And, it is all a proposition of real value, of tangible useful things, idiotically traded away for fake paper or electronic debt. Just as the US currently lacks any coherent, responsible, or humane foreign policy, it also suffers from a complete lack of real money. One feels the imbalance anywhere and everywhere.

Your author suspects there may be a few more milliliters left for the leeches in both areas. A wounded, even dying predator is still dangerous at its end – perhaps more so being freed of constraining caution. It may lash out one final time. Internationally, the world presents a host of potential military targets and last-second trading disasters. At least a few will likely see commitment. Yes, Tehran dealt a staggering and unexpected defensive blow last January, not that you read much truth about it in the controlled media. And yes, the fools in DC are stupid enough to test the odds again. In fact, they’re even more stupid than that.

Monetarily, financially one finds the same scenario unfolding on behalf of the Fed. Since February, the people have been treated to lies about a financial recession in an otherwise healthy economy caused by a virus. This does not explain why the Fed began engaging in nightly lending to the commercial banks, to the tune of trillions or tens of trillions of dollars, in September of 2019. Nor is there any popular explanation why that graft and trillions more conjured “under Corona” have none little more than boost the appearance of a head above water. If it’s their last dance, they don’t have time for explanations.

Keeping Janet Yellen within the United States, let alone as Treasury Secretary would be uncommonly unwise. Equally stupid would be attacking Iran. But the more things change, the more they stay the same. Those monetary and geopolitical phenomena Christ observed during His earthly tenure eventually helped collapse the Roman Empire, just as similar afflictions have dissolved or diminished all great powers. The exact processes, likely in their final phases, now hasten the end of the United States. Of course, as bad as the foregoing matters are and have been, they are but symptoms of the real disease and not themselves the ultimate issues.*

Where do we go next? That destination depends on faith, fortitude, and more than a little wisdom and wariness.

Originally at TPC!

*In summation, the main underlying ultimate issues, which I shall explore further at a later date, are wickedness and a lack of general intelligence, each feeding off of and worsening the other. Also, I note the note about “the Republic” and the most dangerous issues – an agreement to disagree, but valuable libertarian insight! Onward.

School Distancing – Column Rerun

21 Saturday Nov 2020

Posted by perrinlovett in Other Columns

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Tags

education, rerun, schools, TPC

There obviously was no new column this week. My apologies. Here, find a post from April about the schools in the age of COVID. History is currently repeating and, thus, so does:

The Coronavirus Hysteria May Be The Best Thing That Ever Happened To The Schools

Hello, beloved readers! Kindly join me for an updated exploration of one of my favorite pet subjects, the terminal decline of America’s government schools. Before we get too deep, as the title suggests, I think the current and ongoing closure of the public schools because of the Chinese chest cold and ensuing mass hysteria may be one of if not the best thing that has happened to these institutions since their inception and near-instantaneous corruption. Mind you, this one is a little long and a little link-heavy. But, it’s one of my most important articles yet. If you value your children, your grandchildren, and the future of society, then the following is of great importance. Besides, under house arrest, you likely have all the time in the world.

We Have A Problem

Now, pick a measure – any measure. If it’s a positive, as in laudatory of excellence, then the US ranks far outside the international elite. If it’s negative – school shootings, wasted money, bullying, teen pregnancy, suicides, etc. – then the US is probably the number one country. Within the states, there is a wide variance between performance levels. Worldwide, there are myriad ranking systems. The US is far off the mark in all of the serious assessments. For my purposes, I picked one:

The Center On International Educational Benchmarking (CIEB) at the National Center On Education And The Economy has posted its Top Performing Countries list for 2018. The top countries are Canada, China, Estonia, Finland, Hong Kong, Japan, Poland, Singapore, South Korea, and Taiwan. Notice anyone missing? There are many good (or very bad) reasons for the absence. According to the CIEB, the US ranks just outside the leaders in reading, and just above the world average. The findings regarding science are similar. However, in mathematics, the US ranks well below the international average and ridiculously below the number one nation, China. This dismal performance comes in spite of the US’s massive expenditure per pupil, per year. For 2015, according to the National Center for Education Statistics (NCES), the US was second ($12,800) in spending only to Norway ($15,100). Norway also failed to make CIEB’s top ten. For reference: China spends approximately $2,400 per child per year (based on 2017 Chinese junior high expenditure and a 2020 Yuan to Dollar conversion). 

Contrary to what the idiot politicians and the make-work educrats say, it is not the money that holds back American children. It is the very (hellish) school system itself. It has been, for over a century, specifically designed to produce failure. Adding more money to the US school budget, in an attempt to boost performance, is akin to the old adage about extinguishing a fire with gasoline. All of this, I have written about extensively, before. My second CFF column was education-related. See, also: HERE, HERE, HERE, HERE, HERE, HERE, HERE, and HERE. That’s in addition to over 250 articles and posts, 8% of the total volume, at my blog. I even set up an education resources page, which has only been viewed about a dozen times. And I also wrote a novel (which you should buy) about these matters. And, here we go yet again.

…

MORE AT TPC (2,424 more words)

Coming to TPC…

17 Tuesday Nov 2020

Posted by perrinlovett in Other Columns

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coming soon, TPC

I am drafting a combined history of two things that you won’t want to miss. They both work together and heavily affect you. That will break at TPC as soon as I round it out – end of the week Next week. Will probably feature here too. Stay tuned.

Nuclear Disarmament? – What Passes for a Weekly Column… – also at TPC

09 Monday Nov 2020

Posted by perrinlovett in Legal/Political Columns

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a Perrin first?, deep thoughts, Freedom Roasters Coffe, Nuclear Weapons, out of ideas..., slim chances, TPC, US Senate, world peace

Nuclear Disarmament?

As seen at TPC.

Someone formerly connected to the Senate Armed Services Committee contacted me last week about this piece. That, and the TPC treatment, warrant a rerun! Am I the first or only person to ever ask, “who gets the nukes?” Possibly.

Move over, Jack Handey. Today, we have some deep thoughts here of all places. Let’s take a break from the exciting election lawsuits of 2020 and discuss world peace!

The following was motivated by something I said in one of my new video podcasts for Freedom Prepper. It was also, roundabout, the subject of a comment left on that or another video. But first, as this kicks off with FP, I have something better than international harmony to share with you!

Freedom Roasters Coffee

It’s coming soon!

Crass commercial solicitation out of the way, let’s get serious for once in this even crazier-than-normal electoral week. As I noted above, one of our beloved commenters left these thoughts: “We were the first ones to drop a nuclear bomb. I sure hope we aren’t the last.” I assume he meant that he hopes no more bombs are ever dropped, such being my inclination.

Concerning the coming dissolution of the United States, as a forced internal collection of nations and as an international empire, I asked: “Who gets the nukes?” To my knowledge, no one else has broached that potentially pressing issue. In fact, most might be stumped at the notion of the US following the path of all other empires. Be that as it may, the question is still valid.

For some time, there will likely exist a rump state centered in Washington. I imagine its main purpose will be to harass and make war on those other emerging independent polities. If given the time, and if blessed with someone with a modicum of forethought (what an if!), then that government would be the most probable answer. It is also possible that the arsenal could be divided up, by agreement or otherwise. How that works out, I do not know. However, given all that has happened, all that is unfolding, and the terrible potential of the subject matter, it might be wise to start, sooner than later, to decrease the volume of the weapons at issue.

In world history, only one nation, South Africa, has ever built and then completely scrapped nuclear weaponry. Their underlying reasons in the 1980s mirror those plausible for the current US more than most would like to admit. If the US goes down the same peaceful path, even as to a percentage of the current stock, then I advise that the other atomic countries join in!

Here’s my grand idea to rid the world of nuclear war. The current nuclear powers would have to work together on this project. Any new member of the club (Iran, etc.) should be invited in. By crossed-examined processes, of some kind, the nations should systematically reduce the total number of weapons down to a small, manageable figure. We’ll say, “fifty,” for convenience sake. Why keep any? Deterrence, both against a treacherous project member, a new player, or some rogue actor in the future.

The fifty final warheads could be loaded into submarines jointly owned and operated by the navies of the participating countries, with a rotating command and control system to ensure that no one country has total possession or usage. The subs, whatever their number, should be kept as secret as possible, along with their bases, tritium resupply facilities, etc. Under this cautious approach, it would be very difficult for, say, France to initiate a nuclear exchange with India, if the only available weapons were, at the time, in Russian and Pakistani stewardship. The use of at least two subs, with alternating international commands, would quash the urge of a participating nation or faction to abuse the system. Also, no rogue state would want to step out of line, knowing that somewhere the world community held means of substantial retaliation. Rogue asteroids might also pay similar respectful attention (assuming much, there).

This whole scheme assumes much, and I realize its chances of implementation or even serious consideration are essentially zero. This entry was a substitution and about the best that I could come up with during this most unusual week in the most unusual year. For what it’s worth! Still, there it is – I have done my small part for peace. Should you have a different or a better idea, then we’re all waiting. Back to the sales angle, I have a better coffee, samples of which we are all waiting on.

Werewolves of Covington – Short Fiction

31 Saturday Oct 2020

Posted by perrinlovett in fiction, Other Columns

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fiction, Halloween, hoax, short story, TPC, werewolves

Werewolves of Covington

The 2020 TPC Halloween Spooktacular

*Brought to you by Diet LIME CHIP! Soda

FROM TPC, 10/29/20:

TPC Headquarters, Covington, Halloween 2020, as the sun sets…

A small host of costumed and MASKED children ambled lazily, listlessly, if cautiously incautious down the dark street. But, this year was different. The little ones were uncharacteristically quiet, in a near-silent way. One note of laughter – maniacal as could human voice might achieve – sounded from the shadows near the Confederate Monument. Laws, court orders, and history be damned! the Chairman thought, a sledgehammer in his sweaty hands. Outside, the wind blew a somber, haunting note through the barren trees. Inside, frantic last-minute preparations were underway.

‘Hand me another board,’ MB growled from atop the short ladder. 

‘We’re running low,’ Bess said with a tremble as she passed up a roughly-hewn one-by-six. ‘A few more and we’ll be out. And to think about the children. The children—’

‘It’ll be enough,’ MB gritted through the nails in his teeth. ‘Got the lower windows. Just a few boards up here, per pane, should do it. They say these things are big – too big to pass through a couple of flimsy boards. It’s not like a tiny virus slipping through the relatively miles-wide gaps in a cloth facemask.’ He stopped to admire his handiwork.

‘Did you remember the back door?’ Bess asked shakily. ‘No one has used it since the mob was here about Duke Marshula.’

‘I gotta chair up against it,’ MB replied. ‘Da used to make regular use of it. Anybody seen him lately?’

‘Not since the Braves washed out,’ Bess said, staring off into nothingness. ‘He put on his NBC suit and vanished. I hope … they haven’t got him too.’ She shuttered.

‘Nah, Da’s too tough for—’ MB broke short his contemplative ablations. He paused and gasped: ‘Was that a howl?!’

‘Oh, Lord, oh, Lord!’ Bess shouted hysterically, running in circles. ‘They’re here!’

‘Shotgun, Bess, shotgun!’ MB barked. There was, for the moment, no need.

‘Sorry, y’all!’ A friendly voice called out. It was Kayla. ‘That was my stomach growling. I need to review the new Chinese place. Need to get me a big dish of beef chow mein!’

‘God! Don’t do that,’ MB said, stepping off the desk where he’d jumped in a panic. ‘Have a Snicker, diva. Nobody eats out tonight. Maybe ever. Old Lee Ho picked the worst time to open a diner. I’d say he’s Fooked all-right.’

‘I’m afraid you’re correct,’ Bess said. ‘And, has anybody seen or heard from Ryan Ralston?’

‘Alas poor Ralston, I knew him well,’ Kayla whispered.

‘Not for an age,’ MB sighed. ‘First word of all this Amerikan, ginger-snapping, dog-soldiering, company of wolfen-man howling in Atlanta, and off he goes to confront ‘em. Carrying a Pop-Tart. Had those strange friends of his tagging along. You know? The duck and the cat or whatever? His grandfather told him not to, but yeah.’ He paused and then said with a grimace: ‘Pop-Tart. Cat. Chinese. Gettin’ a little hungry myself.’

‘Say, do you guys think Fred’s hungry?’ Bess asked with sudden maternalistic concern. ‘He’s been up there for three days. Only has a few two-liters of Diet Lime Chip.’

‘Fred?!’ MB called.

‘Door’s closed! I ain’t coming down! Not by the hair of my chinny chin chin!’ Fred shouted through the ceiling. 

The gang made their way beneath the attic door, sealed tight from above. ‘If you’re not hungry, then you got any news?’ Kayla ventured. ‘About them?’

‘Hang on!’ Fred echoed through the water-stained drywall. A humming noise emanated from his (poorly) jerry-rigged short-wave radio. ‘Coming in, now! Dr. Fauci’s speaking. He says the CDC in Atlanta has been overrun. Everyone’s dead or infected. Says the quote-unquote test they have is reliable, even if it’s never been tested and is not really a test. He’s predicting six trillion of us will be … converted or eaten unless more people start wearing plastic bags over their masks. Says the trouble is heading east rapidly.’

‘That’s our direction!’ Bess cried.

‘Do we have the silver bullet?’ Kayla asked alarmedly.

‘Yeah,’ MB answered, ‘got some Coors in the cooler.’

‘GSP had a sighting on Twenty, near Oxford, before their team vanished.’ Fred trailed off for a moment. ‘I’d say they must be on us by now. On you. You downstairs people are on your own!’ With that, he and his radio went silent. 

‘Oh, no, no, no, no, no!’ Bess wailed, again circling the floor. ‘Children in C-Town! Won’t someone think of the werewolves?!’

‘I think those last kids on the street were just eaten alive,’ Kayla said ruefully. ‘Just a hunch, but I know this year we don’t need facts. I mean, if Dr. Fauci said they’re real, then they’re real.’

‘The wolf and the kid…’ Bess mumbled Aesopically.

‘Screw the kids!’ MB barked again, barkingly. ‘Uh, sorry, Bess. I mean bless those rugrats and whatnot. But, they’re on their own. They knew about the wolves. Same warning we all had. Now, I’ve got one last sash and three boards.’

‘Oh! The worst year,’ Bess said through tears. ‘First the economic coverup … I mean the virus. Then, the police state … I mean lockdown for safety. Next, we had all of the White Supremacy peaceful protests over the not-police killing of Cannon Hinnant. Russia planted that laptop for the Proud Boys – with the videos of everything except Big Floyd. And now, werewolves are coming. WEREWOLVES ARE COMING!’

‘We know they’re real because the deep state government and the totally-independent media that have both lied to us about everything ever say so,’ Kayla remarked.

‘They won’t get TPC!’ MB said defiantly while hammering a cigarette and trying to light a nail.

At that very moment, the sum of all their fears burst into violent reality. From down the stairs, there came a rattling sound, followed by a creaking and hoarse moaning.

‘Did anyone lock the front door?’ someone asked in vain.

‘Something’s snarling downstairs!’ Bess screamed.

‘It sounds hungry and crazy and overly curmudgeonly for its age! Kayla shrieked.

‘Tell me when it’s over!’ MB called down from his perch on the chandelier.

Bess leveled the double-barrel towards the blackness of the stairwell. Kayla stood by with the flashlight. MB swung pensively. In breathless terror, they waited. Heavy feet clomped up the steps. A shady, shaggy shadow crept forward out of the deeper darkness. There came the distinctive sound of a wild beast snapping, menacingly, nationalistically. At the last possible second, Kayla hit the light.

‘Get that out of my eyes!’ A perpetually-perturbed, none-too-local, and all-too-dialectic voice shouted. ‘Bess, put that blunderbuss away!’

A figure stumbled into the room.

‘Perrin!’ Bess cried. ‘We thought you’d been eaten by a werewolf!’

‘We thought you were a werewolf!’ Kayla chimed.

‘Little help up here,’ MB whispered from above.

‘Cheap soda socialists!’ came a rumor from the attic.

‘WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU NUTS GOING ON ABOUT?!’ Perrin demanded, demandingly.

‘Hello!’ Kayla hello’d. ‘Werewolves taking over? It’s all that’s on the news!’

‘They ate Da and Ryan and all the children,’ Bess said as she absent-mindedly ejected two previously fired shells from an ancient hammerless Nerf blaster.

‘Yeah, man. It’s like the pandemic, but completely more plausible,’ MB added before tumbling to the floor in a heap. ‘Go Dawgs…’ he muttered from behind the poorly-placed armoire.

‘Werewolves?!’ Perrin bellowed in typical cynicism. ‘That’s just another hoax! Won’t you people learn that everything everyone says at all times is a lie? That’s the truth, you know.’

‘But, even you said, It’s a monster! Grab the guns!’ MB remembered at the most or least opportune time. ‘Dude, like you’re even carrying a rifle, right now.’

‘I was talking about the ELECTION FALLOUT!’ Perrin boomed before wheezing pathetically, forced to lean on his newly, uh, appropriated .458 SOCOM for support. ‘The election! Civil War! Mass casualties! For the love of— For the last time – like fake, unisolated viral hoaxes, werewolves don’t exist!’

Whilst the office party evaded the eyes of the literary scion of Floyd, not one of them noticed the disheveled carcass of Da, who had, unseen, followed Perrin in, tromp to the top stair step, right behind Perrin, standing, glaring at the assembly with wicked yellow eyes, his wild hair matted like that of an unkempt wild wolf, his chest heaving, fangs protruding, growling, like a man who, bitten by some demented demon wilderness canine – as part of a sentence that just drags on and on and on and on … and you get the point, I think – had himself been turned into a hairy beast, more creature than man, intent on revenge and mayhem, poised to pounce, claws out, et cetera, et cetera, etc, and so forth; behind a semicolon, far, far, far beyond the help of a definitely terminable punctuation mark (of any kind), and now issued forth a GggggrrrrrrrRRRRR!!!! sound that indicated that he was most likely considering his former co-workers as a meal – notwithstanding Fred, who was still safe up in the attic (and, let’s face it: attic doors embedded in, let’s say a nine or ten-foot ceiling would be a little difficult for even a “War-Wilf!” to reach, because I’m going with the idea that Tolkien knew what he was talking about when he said something to the effect that not even the wild wargs could climb trees [although, even if a collapsing, spring-loaded attic door isn’t the same as a tree, we can all freely speculate] and therefore, moving on) and furthermore, okay, okay, OK, I’m losing my place now … they finally noticed that which they almost hated to think might really be Da!

Looking over his shoulder, Perrin got off the group’s final pointless words: ‘Da, what big ears you- gggahafffff!!!!!!!’

And, somewhere between the cold street and the high, full moon, a shuttering, bellowing HOWL pierced the night!

…

Away, over on 441, driving north, unaware of the unfolding calamity – perhaps shielded from it by some vague disturbance in the continuum, Thomas Becket wondered aloud: ‘How the hell did a nice French teacher like me get roped into this third-rate tripe? Ah, well, maybe there’s an old Warren Zevon song on. Or, at least a cheap ripoff…’

I saw a politician with a crumpled paper in its paw,

Staggering through the Esoteric South in pain.

It was looking for the place called T-P-C!

Gonna get its fill of something lame.

Raooooooooo… ah, yeah…

HAPPY HALLOWEEN This Holiday Canceled By Order of Dr. Fauci.

A Halloween Short Story…

30 Friday Oct 2020

Posted by perrinlovett in fiction, News and Notes

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Halloween, TPC

I understand there’s one over at TPC. (Or, there will be, sometime today…) A howling good time.

We’ll have a repeat rerun, here, tomorrow for Big Pumpkin Day!

What, you ask, goes great with anything pumpkin? Well, I’d say a strong, hot cup of,

Soon…

Thanks to Old MB and You

29 Thursday Oct 2020

Posted by perrinlovett in News and Notes

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blog, etc, thanks, TPC

I’m most grateful for the attention driven here from TPC’s Facebook connections since yesterday evening in addition to the month-long renewed interest in, what, practical politics? I have some more stuff for you coming soon. This afternoon, my regular column will run, though entirely in French – for obvious reasons. I understand that, also today, TPC will carry my new Halloween-themed fictional hilarity.

Thanks again. As always, quality will improve tomorrow.

P

By Process of Elimination – an Education Column

21 Wednesday Oct 2020

Posted by perrinlovett in Other Columns

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decline, education, football, IN THE KNOW:, intelligence, IQ, lies, myths, Russell T. Warne, The West, TPC

By Process of Elimination

As Seen At TPC.

No, this has nothing to do with last Saturday’s Georgia-Alabama game. I gave my advice in that regard, last fall; though perhaps I should have added the word “taller” in the description under point two. It matters little as it appears that my points were not heeded. No, this column is titled as it is because I wrestled with too many subjects, settling on none. In my defense, I’ve been a little busy with some other things lately and the prospects for this particular work were slightly speculative, even depressing. So! I decided to go with something safe and sound: education.

Rather, this is about IQ, which in turn, is extremely determinative of educational achievement. 

Well, shit, this is really a review of a book review, but bear with me.

Coming on October 29, 2020: In the Know: Debunking 35 Myths about Human Intelligence by Dr. Russell T. Warne. 

Read, if you will, James Thompson’s review preview at Unz. 

Warne is, like my old man was, an educational psychologist. His new book focuses on dispelling popular (and popularly deceptive) myths about psychometrics. That field was my father’s focus from around 1971 until 1989, with most of his major work published during the Seventies, before, I imagine, Warne was born. Some of Dad’s papers are still cited, with The Effect of Violating the Assumption of Equal Item Means in Estimating the Livingston Coefficient (1978) referenced this year (ThaiJo, Thailand, January 2020). Here’s hoping that In the Know enjoys similar longevity along with deeper penetration into the psycho-industrial complex and the surrounding culture. God knows we need it. 

As Dutton and Woodley demonstrated in At Our Wits’ End (2018), general intelligence in Western nations is collapsing. IQ being one of the three primary components of a stable, even recognizable society, this is just a wee bit important. Yet, in defiance of measured statistical reality, the usual suspects continue to parrot nonsense such as “g doesn’t exist,” or “it’s environmental, socio-economic,” or “IQ is a social construct.” Enough. It would be more accurate to say that society is an IQ construct. 

Warne’s attempt to correct the falsehoods is admirable. However, and I’m sure he’s aware, those misstatements are largely intentional. In fact, they are part and parcel with the overall scheme to destroy Western Civilization via mass deception, mass coercion, and mass demographic upheaval. One such lie is well addressed by a quick summary in Thompson’s article:

[Myth] 4 Intelligence Is a Western Concept that Does Not Apply to Non-Western Cultures

…

If intelligence really varies in character between different cultures, then it should be very difficult to extract the “Western” general factor, yet in 31 countries, and using a wide variety of tests, 94 of the 97 (96.9%) samples produced g either immediately or after a second factor analysis. Moreover, the g factor is about as strong in the non-Western samples as it is in typical Western samples. Most countries find “Western” intelligence tests very useful, once they have been translated and some language and specific knowledge items altered or removed. To cap it all, dogs, rats, mice, donkey and primates show g factors. It looks like an evolutionary adaptation.

This cultural apologist claptrap is akin to saying that gravity doesn’t apply in Africa because of Newton. As Warne correctly notes, IQ testing and the understanding of the testing process and the precision of the test results rank as the most mathematically-certain facet of psychology and, in fact, all of the social sciences. But, again, at the higher, motivated levels, the truth doesn’t matter. They know, they’re just pushing the devil’s agenda anyway.

They’re throwing out the tests – just like I did. When your father studied IQ statistics for a living and regularly reviewed, normed, or re-normed IQ tests, who do you think was usually the first test subject? This also goes for your father’s faculty colleagues and graduate students. Yeah. Having completed MORE THAN A FEW Wechsler and Stanford-Binet batteries, I know something about them. Having lived decades among the various-leveled denizens of the bell curve, I can attest to the inherent accuracy in the assessments; in the wild, I can sense it and almost see it. 

I had a small collection of various versions of the tests. I had them. During the … great restructuring, they became casualties like so many tools, books, furniture articles, and other weighty items. I feel poorly about it all, but I have an excuse. The globo educrats and warped SJWs, as part of the complete destruction of systemic education in the fading US, threw out (or, are throwing out) the testing process, without excuse or good cause. They know what they’re doing and I know why. We all do. If you’re out to wreck something like a university, but your useful hordes cannot on their own gain admission, then the first step is to replace reliable metrics with those more touchy and feely. Cue Carlin: “Pretty soon all you’ll need to get into college is a pencil.” That’s a battle for another book, or rather, that’s a battle for unschooling, homeschooling, and general autodidacticism.

At any rate, consider buying this book next week and reading it. Then, you can use the presented rebuttals, casually, with those who innocently share the misunderstandings. Every little helps. The ultimate fallback of the defenders of ignorance is always baseless name-calling. Be ready for that – rhetoric with rhetoric, when or where necessary.

And, the necessary when and where for next week, especially for the TPC crowd, will be some fall holiday-themed fiction! Just so you’re in the know: it’ll be spooky fun.

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Perrin Lovett

From Green Altar Books, an imprint of Shotwell Publishing

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