WHEN in the course of human Events, it becomes necessary….
![[Bumped] “Hey, you know something people? I'm not black, but there's a whole lots a times I wish I could say I'm not white” -- Frank Zappa](https://americandigest.org/wp/wp-content/uploads/2020/05/https___cdn.cnn_.com_cnnnext_dam_assets_200527104052-21-minneapolis-protests-0526-1024x682.jpg "[Bumped] “Hey, you know something people? I'm not black, but there's a whole lots a times I wish I could say I'm not white” -- Frank Zappa")
Welcome to the New American Digest: 2001-2022
Intellectual disgrace
Stares from every human face,
And the seas of pity lie
Locked and frozen in each eye.
Follow, poet, follow right
To the bottom of the night,
With your unconstraining voice
Still persuade us to rejoice.
With the farming of a verse
Make a vineyard of the curse,
Sing of human unsuccess
In a rapture of distress.
In the deserts of the heart
Let the healing fountains start,
In the prison of his days
Teach the free man how to praise.
– – WH Auden
Sometimes it seems I had a dream, and, as a dreamer woke immersed in mineral baths closed within a cool, dark chamber fed by streams flowing in from the center of nowhere.
Hanging from the granite ceiling a kerosene lantern cast shards of light through the pale steam rising from the surface of the pools.
Ripples radiated outwards from the edges of my body and tapping faintly on the rock revealed the edges of the chamber.
Outside I could hear the wind slide across the spine of the mountains, speaking in a language that I remembered but could no longer understand.
Steam filled my nostrils and heat penetrated my bones until, after a time, I had no body, only a sense of silence and distance and calm.
As if I had just woken from all water into dream.
— Tassajara Zen Mountain Center, 1973
FSA/8d22000/8d224008d22491a.tif
The steel mill sky is alive.
The fire breaks white and zigzag
shot on a gun-metal gloaming.
Man is a long time coming.
Man will yet win.
Brother may yet line up with brother:
This old anvil laughs at many broken hammers.
There are men who can’t be bought.
The fireborn are at home in fire.
The stars make no noise,
You can’t hinder the wind from blowing.
Time is a great teacher.
Who can live without hope?
In the darkness with a great bundle of grief
the people march.
In the night, and overhead a shovel of stars for keeps, the people
march:
“Where to? what next?”
— Carl Sandberg
Down valley a smoke haze
Three days heat, after five days rain
Pitch glows on the fir-cones
Across rocks and meadows
Swarms of new flies.
I cannot remember things I once read
A few friends, but they are in cities.
Drinking cold snow-water from a tin cup
Looking down for miles
Through high still air.
BY GARY SNYDER
Starry-eyed an’ laughing as I recall when we were caught
Trapped by no track of hours for they hanged suspended
As we listened one last time an’ we watched with one last look
Spellbound an’ swallowed ’til the tolling ended
Tolling for the aching ones whose wounds cannot be nursed
For the countless confused, accused, misused, strung-out ones an’ worse
An’ for every hung-up person in the whole wide universe
An’ we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing
Van der Leun: The Normblog Bio of Your Host
That is no country for old men. The young
In one another’s arms, birds in the trees
—Those dying generations—at their song,
The salmon-falls, the mackerel-crowded seas,
Fish, flesh, or fowl, commend all summer long
Whatever is begotten, born, and dies.
Caught in that sensual music all neglect
Monuments of unageing intellect.
An aged man is but a paltry thing,
A tattered coat upon a stick, unless
Soul clap its hands and sing, and louder sing
For every tatter in its mortal dress,
Nor is there singing school but studying
Monuments of its own magnificence;
And therefore I have sailed the seas and come
To the holy city of Byzantium.
O sages standing in God’s holy fire
As in the gold mosaic of a wall,
Come from the holy fire, perne in a gyre,
And be the singing-masters of my soul.
Consume my heart away; sick with desire
And fastened to a dying animal
It knows not what it is; and gather me
Into the artifice of eternity.
Once out of nature I shall never take
My bodily form from any natural thing,
But such a form as Grecian goldsmiths make
Of hammered gold and gold enamelling
To keep a drowsy Emperor awake;
Or set upon a golden bough to sing
To lords and ladies of Byzantium
Of what is past, or passing, or to come.
– – W. B. Yeats, 1865 – 1939
Stone-cutters fighting time with marble, you foredefeated
Challengers of oblivion
Eat cynical earnings, knowing rock splits, records fall down,
The square-limbed Roman letters
Scale in the thaws, wear in the rain. The poet as well
Builds his monument mockingly;
For man will be blotted out, the blithe earth die, the brave sun
Die blind and blacken to the heart:
Yet stones have stood for a thousand years, and pained
thoughts found
The honey of peace in old poems.
— Robinson Jeffers
Sometimes it seems I had a dream, and, as a dreamer woke immersed in mineral baths closed within a cool, dark chamber fed by streams flowing in from the center of nowhere.
Hanging from the granite ceiling a kerosene lantern cast shards of light through the pale steam rising from the surface of the pools.
Ripples radiated outwards from the edges of my body and tapping faintly on the rock revealed the edges of the chamber.
Outside I could hear the wind slide across the spine of the mountains, speaking in a language that I remembered but could no longer understand.
Steam filled my nostrils and heat penetrated my bones until, after a time, I had no body, only a sense of silence and distance and calm.
As if I had just woken from all water into dream.
— Tassajara Zen Mountain Center, 1973
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We’re having broadband issues so I only saw about a minutes worth, but that was enough.
When our son was young we got him one of them ant farm deals, remember them? After a couple weeks you can see all the tunnels, streets, etc., with busy little ants doing their little ant thing and nothing more. The cities look like ant farms with small minded humans doing small minded things, like torturing each other in every way imaginable.
I never lived in urbania but lived much of my life in suburbania. But I couldn’t put up with it any more and escaped. Looking out the bathroom window on the side of our house after the morning shower and just 20 feet away was the neighbor looking out his bathroom window at me. TWENTY DAM FEET! Jeezis cryste. I can piss that far, almost. (after 4 tall ones) No way can I ever go back to that sort of existence and all of the baggage it entails. Hell, it’s about 40′ from our house to my office/workshop, and I make that short trek maybe 8-10 times a day. But 20′ to the neighbors crib? I shudder to think. I also think about the long life exposure to a mindset that claims that sort of thing is normal and/or good. It is not. I can’t think of one good reason to live in suburbia or urbania. If I lived in the city I’d be as nervous as a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs, all the time. I imagine my life expectancy would bottom out too.
I have no sympathy for people that live in the cities, just pity.
@Ghost, this story of a famous experiment with crowding rats may interest you:
https://www.victorpest.com/articles/what-humans-can-learn-from-calhouns-rodent-utopia
The difference between Ratopians and inner city America is that the rats did not have a choice to live in that situation. The denizens of the inner city do. The rats are driven crazy by their environment. The inner city folks decide to live there because they are already crazy. They want that environment.
https://archive.org/stream/negroesinnegrola00helpiala/negroesinnegrola00helpiala_djvu.txt
What’s different?
I recently observed a middle school (in the projects) algebra class. All Afro-Americans and one girl from Jamaica. She was the only one who knew what the teacher was talking about, the only one who worked along with the teacher, the only one who cared about her appearance.
The rest jive talked and challenged each other the whole time.
Dressed like they lived in a dumpster.
Not the least interested.
No thoughts of the future except getting a drank.
They know they are taken care of by the taken-for-granted welfare system that serves all their wants.
I’ve been to hundreds of classrooms in dozens of schools, with names such as Dr. Issac Smollett School of Engineering, or Chestnut Hill School for the Arts, where 20% of third graders read and do arithmetic proficiently. The names—wishful thinking, delusional, or something (!) that makes teachers feel good about where they are—till school opens.
What stands out in middle and high school classrooms filled with ghetto Afros, are the smell of rancid grease, nasty hair extensions, enormous asses, hideous voices, menace, continuous movement and disruption, and a sense that most students are barely sentient and not capable of logical thinking.
“Here are four examples of granite. Look, they all have quartz, feldspar, and mica. Just with different colors. Look at sample five. Is it granite?…. How would you figure it out?”
Are you kidding? They would instantly make fun of the teacher or start throwing paper wads at each other.
Do they know how dumb they are?
Basically, ill-supervised psycho wards.
The most stupid and useless high schoolers would be just as happy in a locked ward. Three meals a day; things to fight over; things to break or steal, authority to mock; and nothing that challenges the intellect.
They live in another “province of meaning.” You can see it when they hit grade four. They start off cute and happy and sharp in kindergarten.
“Hey, Mister, are you Santa Claus.”
“Naw. Santa is my bother. I’m Fred Claus. I make the toys. Santa just flies around.”
“Hey, are you kidding me?”
“Nope!”
Kid walks away and says to his pal, “Yup, he’s Santa Claus, alright.”
By the end of grade 3, they can’t read, have no idea how to do math more complex than 2-digit multiplication, are sullen, look traumatized, and ready to fight. Except for a rare few (who remain sharp, sociable, and friendly—especially Hispanics and Black kids from religious families), the rest have family lives that would (and do) drive them mad. Constant yelling, threats, smacks upside the head, no fathers, a new “uncle” every month, violence outside and inside, sexual abuse, continual turmoil and crises, and fast food.
If it were me, I’d rather be chopping cotton or working the tobacco fields.
What would this country be like now if the negro had never been brought here?
Lance,
That was damn depressing. There is no gubmint solution.
“Barbarianism is the natural state of mankind. Civilization is unnatural. It is the whim of circumstance. And barbarianism must ultimately triumph”
― Robert E. Howard
Civilization takes a lot of work, barbarianism is easy. If they work or not, if they study or not, if they behave or not; we won’t let them starve, we won’t let them be without shelter, we won’t drive them out or put them to death.
Barbarianism must ultimately triumph.
It IS possible to undo the damage of ghetto culture and pathological families—in the same way that good foster homes or adoptions might undo the damage of a rotten family.
If done early enough.
I mean schools that are in many ways like military training—basic training (kindergarten and grader 1), advanced infantry training (grades 2 and up).
Teachers are like drill sergeants, though slightly more tender. Instead of “You’re not as stupid as you look, de Boyle”), it’s “Excellent work, Isaiah. You got what it takes.”
Uniforms.
Ceremonies.
Frequent formations with the company commander. “We are kicking butt, people. We will be the highest ranked school in the county. You WILL
Won’t work.
List the reasons why:
1,______________
2.______________
It IS possible to undo the damage of ghetto culture and pathological families—in the same way that good foster homes or adoptions might undo the damage of a rotten family.
If done early enough.
I mean schools that are in many ways like military training—basic training (kindergarten and grade 1), advanced infantry training (grades 2 and up).
Teachers are like drill sergeants, though slightly more tender. Instead of “You’re not as stupid as you look, de Boyle”), it’s “Excellent work, Lance. You got what it takes.”
Uniforms.
Ceremonies.
Frequent formations with the company commander. “We are kicking butt, people. We will be the highest ranked school in the county. You WILL be smart. You WILL be successful. Now give me a Hooo Rah!!!”
Followed by the Assistant Principle (Sergeant Major).
“You heard what Captain Danielson said! Now get back to class and KILL some math problems.”
No, childish point systems. Instead, approval hard won from the teacher and the class.
And instruction so well designed that most everyone learns.
https://www.nifdi.org
Check the programs.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y-RSxNsQjmU
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TkjxO3PSzwk
Here’s Engelmann in Chicago. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j9SjFsimywA
See 18.30 algebra.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BGA5gSEpnlQ
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bZjmToPJ_RU
I worked with 15 schools in Wilmington, nc. After two years of DI, the percentage of kids passing the state reading test went from 40 to high 80s.
Everyone was happy.
Two years later, NEW principals got rid of DI.
It was not their “philosophy.”
Scores tanked.
Ed schools are THE enemy of poor kids. The ‘progressives’ are the dumbest people you’ve ever seen.
They hate DI and love Inquiry. They are too dumb to figure out that you use DI to teach the basics (attention, focus, cooperation, inductive reasoning, language, reading, math, science), and then kids can USE what they just learned to do “inquiry” projects (studying a mountain range).
Use this.
https://www.amazon.com/Teach-Your-Child-Read-Lessons/dp/0671631985/ref=sr_1_3?crid=2QJ4WO3RUBOG3&dchild=1&keywords=teach+your+child+to+read+in+100+easy+lessons&qid=1597156720&sprefix=tesach+yo%2Caps%2C218&sr=8-3
And this.
https://www.coreknowledge.org
This (whole brain teaching) looks weird, but to me it is analogous to close-order drill.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zQd0aZ5RNzw
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kv7wYsWkB4g
Get rid of ed schools. Train teachers in good schools. Worth an experiment.
1. They’re negroes.
2. Women vote.
The comments above reflect the truth of our parasitic black citizens but I’m afraid we are well and truly fucked because they are here to stay, their objective is to wipe Whitey from the map and establish a modern and updated version of Negroland which won’t be any different from that in which their ancestors lived.
America was a grand experiment and it would have worked too, had negros never been permitted entry.
Lance,
I served for many years as an elementary school teacher in a small urban school district. Out of frustration, a few of us learned a phonetic language arts program. It worked so well, even the parents noticed. It only lasted a short time. In order to keep receiving government money, the district had to adopt a government-approved, big text book company created, “data driven,” “evidence based” reading program, and everyone had to use it. No deviation allowed. The results were predictable. DI, Core Knowledge, any other program that actually teaches children when used by a competent teacher, will never be allowed in the public schools.
“…when used by a competent teacher…”
==========
This thing is now in at least it’s 3rd generation so finding what you said is almost impossible.
They simply don’t exist.
The overall problem is lazy assed parents.
They push the responsibility of their charges off on others and don’t really care about the outcome.
Oh, they may whine and wail and stomp their feets and they may even gather together time to time to make their voices heard but when it comes right down to making it happen they just retreat back to the couch and the cheeze puffs and dancing with the stars.