That one says it all.
Almost.
Where da budlite iz?
AnneSeptember 4, 2023, 8:34 AM
I am a burger fanatic. Where was this picture taken? Is it at a restaurant that I might someday be able to reach by car?
newneoSeptember 4, 2023, 7:58 PM
Anne:
Unfortunately, I don’t know where the photo was taken. If I did, I’d go there myself!
ghostsniperSeptember 4, 2023, 12:12 PM
There is a reason why much of what you are observing “out there” is unreal.
Always remember what is real, and beautiful, and good – never sway. Ever.
The essence of globalism is satanic, and the essence of Satanism is globalist. Because Satan’s plan is to establish the reign of the Antichrist, allowing him to parody Christ’s earthly life, to imitate His miracles with grotesque wonders, to lead crowds not with the simplicity of Truth but with deception and lies. Globalism is, so to speak, the staging, the script and the scenario that must prepare humanity for the political ascent of the Antichrist, to whom the leaders of the world – his servants – will cede national sovereignty so that he becomes a kind of global tyrant.
But the kingdom of the Antichrist is not created out of nothing: it is first necessary to erase what remains of the kingdom of Christ in the institutions, in the culture and in the daily life of the citizens. Moral dissolution is one of the simplest means of subjugating the masses, encouraging them to vice, ridiculing virtue; and, of course, by destroying the natural family, the fundamental cell of society. Once the family is demolished, the children become commodities, products that those with money can order over the Internet, fuelling the vast and growing criminal network, not to mention the surrogacy industry. Divorce, abortion, euthanasia, homosexuality and pan- sexualism, mutilation for gender transition have proven to be effective tools for eliminating not only the revealed Faith, but also the most sacred principles of Natural Law.
And it is indeed a religion, the one that is being established with the Woke ideology; a religion which, like the true Religion but with diametrically opposed goals, intends to impose itself in society, to imbue its dogmas into the institutions, the laws, the education, the culture, the arts and human activities. The globalists apply the Catholic principles of “social kingship,” but proclaim Satan king of society: Te nationum præsides honore tollant publico: colant magistri, judices; leges et artes exprimant. May the rulers of the world publicly honour and extol Thee; May teachers and judges reverence Thee; May the laws and the arts bear Thy mark. These are the words of the hymn of Christ the King, but we see them applied blasphemously by the priests of the New World Order to their king, the prince of this world, and to the Antichrist in his time.
Beware though: globalism, as an emanation of Masonic and revolutionary thought, apparently proclaims democracy and condemns absolute regimes; but in fact, it knows very well that the Monarchy of Divine Right is the best possible form of government, because it subjugates everyone – including the king himself, who is the Vicar of Christ in temporal things – to a transcendent law to which everyone owes obedience.
It is quite fair to say that I became a Socialist in a fashion somewhat similar to the way in which the Teutonic pagans became Christians–it was hammered into me. Not only was I not looking for Socialism at the time of my conversion, but I was fighting it. I was very young and callow, did not know much of anything, and though I had never even heard of a school called “Individualism,” I sang the paean of the strong with all my heart.
This was because I was strong myself. By strong I mean that I had good health and hard muscles, both of which possessions are easily accounted for. I had lived my childhood on California ranches, my boyhood hustling newspapers on the streets of a healthy Western city, and my youth on the ozone-laden waters of San Francisco Bay and the Pacific Ocean. I loved life in the open, and I toiled in the open, at the hardest kinds of work. Learning no trade, but drifting along from job to job, I looked on the world and called it good, every bit of it. Let me repeat, this optimism was because I was healthy and strong, bothered with neither aches nor weaknesses, never turned down by the boss because I did not look fit, able always to get a job at shovelling coal, sailorizing, or manual labor of some sort.
And because of all this, exulting in my young life, able to hold my own at work or fight, I was a rampant individualist. It was very natural. I was a winner. Wherefore I called the game, as I saw it played, or thought I saw it played, a very proper game for MEN. To be a MAN was to write man in large capitals on my heart. To adventure like a man, and fight like a man, and do a man’s work (even for a boy’s pay)–these were things that reached right in and gripped hold of me as no other thing could. And I looked ahead into long vistas of a hazy and interminable future, into which, playing what I conceived to be MAN’S game, I should continue to travel with unfailing health, without accidents, and with muscles ever vigorous. As I say, this future was interminable. I could see myself only raging through life without end like one of Nietzsche’s blond-beasts, lustfully roving and conquering by sheer superiority and strength.
As for the unfortunates, the sick, and ailing, and old, and maimed, I must confess I hardly thought of them at all, save that I vaguely felt that they, barring accidents, could be as good as I if they wanted to real hard, and could work just as well. Accidents? Well, they represented FATE, also spelled out in capitals, and there was no getting around FATE. Napoleon had had an accident at Waterloo, but that did not dampen my desire to be another and later Napoleon. Further, the optimism bred of a stomach which could digest scrap iron and a body which flourished on hardships did not permit me to consider accidents as even remotely related to my glorious personality.
I hope I have made it clear that I was proud to be one of Nature’s strong-armed noblemen. The dignity of labor was to me the most impressive thing in the world. Without having read Carlyle, or Kipling, I formulated a gospel of work which put theirs in the shade. Work was everything. It was sanctification and salvation. The pride I took in a hard day’s work well done would be inconceivable to you. It is almost inconceivable to me as I look back upon it. I was as faithful a wage slave as ever capitalist exploited. To shirk or malinger on the man who paid me my wages was a sin, first, against myself, and second, against him. I considered it a crime second only to treason and just about as bad.
In short, my joyous individualism was dominated by the orthodox bourgeois ethics. I read the bourgeois papers, listened to the bourgeois preachers, and shouted at the sonorous platitudes of the bourgeois politicians. And I doubt not, if other events had not changed my career, that I should have evolved into a professional strike-breaker, (one of President Eliot’s American heroes), and had my head and my earning power irrevocably smashed by a club in the hands of some militant trades-unionist.
Just about this time, returning from a seven months’ voyage before the mast, and just turned eighteen, I took it into my head to go tramping. On rods and blind baggages I fought my way from the open West where men bucked big and the job hunted the man, to the congested labor centres of the East, where men were small potatoes and hunted the job for all they were worth. And on this new blond-beast adventure I found myself looking upon life from a new and totally different angle. I had dropped down from the proletariat into what sociologists love to call the “submerged tenth,” and I was startled to discover the way in which that submerged tenth was recruited.
I found there all sorts of men, many of whom had once been as good as myself and just as blond-beast; sailor-men, soldier-men, labor-men, all wrenched and distorted and twisted out of shape by toil and hardship and accident, and cast adrift by their masters like so many old horses. I battered on the drag and slammed back gates with them, or shivered with them in box cars and city parks, listening the while to life-histories which began under auspices as fair as mine, with digestions and bodies equal to and better than mine, and which ended there before my eyes in the shambles at the bottom of the Social Pit.
And as I listened my brain began to work. The woman of the streets and the man of the gutter drew very close to me. I saw the picture of the Social Pit as vividly as though it were a concrete thing, and at the bottom of the Pit I saw them, myself above them, not far, and hanging on to the slippery wall by main strength and sweat. And I confess a terror seized me. What when my strength failed? when I should be unable to work shoulder to shoulder with the strong men who were as yet babes unborn? And there and then I swore a great oath. It ran something like this: All my days I have worked hard with my body, and according to the number of days I have worked, by just that much am I nearer the bottom of the Pit. I shall climb out of the Pit, but not by the muscles of my body shall I climb out. I shall do no more hard work, and may God strike me dead if I do another day’s hard work with my body more than I absolutely have to do. And I have been busy ever since running away from hard work.
Incidentally, while tramping some ten thousand miles through the United States and Canada, I strayed into Niagara Falls, was nabbed by a fee-hunting constable, denied the right to plead guilty or not guilty, sentenced out of hand to thirty days’ imprisonment for having no fixed abode and no visible means of support, handcuffed and chained to a bunch of men similarly circumstanced, carted down country to Buffalo, registered at the Erie County Penitentiary, had my head clipped and my budding mustache shaved, was dressed in convict stripes, compulsorily vaccinated by a medical student who practised on such as we, made to march the lock-step, and put to work under the eyes of guards armed with Winchester rifles–all for adventuring in blond-beastly fashion. Concerning further details deponent sayeth not, though he may hint that some of his plethoric national patriotism simmered down and leaked out of the bottom of his soul somewhere–at least, since that experience he finds that he cares more for men and women and little children than for imaginary geographical lines.
* * * * * * *
To return to my conversion. I think it is apparent that my rampant individualism was pretty effectively hammered out of me, and something else as effectively hammered in. But, just as I had been an individualist without knowing it, I was now a Socialist without knowing it, withal, an unscientific one. I had been reborn, but not renamed, and I was running around to find out what manner of thing I was. I ran back to California and opened the books. I do not remember which ones I opened first. It is an unimportant detail anyway. I was already It, whatever It was, and by aid of the books I discovered that It was a Socialist. Since that day I have opened many books, but no economic argument, no lucid demonstration of the logic and inevitableness of Socialism affects me as profoundly and convincingly as I was affected on the day when I first saw the walls of the Social Pit rise around me and felt myself slipping down, down, into the shambles at the bottom.
THE END.
Jarek: “Hard work never hurt anybody” – one of the biggest lies ever told. It doesn’t hurt you if you can stop when you need to and recover from it. You know, like animals do after a long hunt? But to do exactly the same every day, well you will become less and less. At the stores I regularly go to, I’ve watched the light go out of young workers eyes as they get worn down.
London himself once signed on to a factory that promised to bring him up thru the ranks if he did a good job. So he shoveled coal for 10 hours a day, proudly doing the work of two men. He noted the resentment of other workers – his inferiors! Then one of them told him: They did the same to another young guy. Once you start to slow down, they’ll get rid of you and get another one. He realized his error and quit. The managerial class is scum, seeing people as things or means to an end. The owner class which employs such de facto slave masters is no better.
First we had to serve the machines. Now the machines are replacing us. No one cared when they replaced menial laborers – or offshored their jobs overseas; or insourced coolies to undercut them. No one will care now that AI is coming for the white collar workers. Indeed, independent blue collar guys are going to survive at least for awhile. Robotics is lagging far behind IT at this point. Women are a gonna get hit hard in particular. Mary jokes about how thrilled her colleagues are about AI even as it will soon replace them.
ghostsniperSeptember 4, 2023, 12:24 PM
Them Soro’s people….
Vivek Ramaswamy, 2011
Founder and CEO, Roivant Sciences
Vivek Ramaswamy is the child of immigrants from India
Fellowship awarded to support work towards a JD in Law at Yale University
VIVEK RAMASWAMY is the founder and CEO of Roivant Sciences.
Vivek was born in Cincinnati to Indian parents. In high school he was class valedictorian, a nationally ranked junior tennis player and an accomplished pianist.
Vivek graduated from Harvard College in 2007, summa cum laude and Phi Beta Kappa with a major in biology. Later he entered Yale Law School.
While at Harvard, a precis of his senior thesis, on the ethical questions raised by creating human-animal chimeras was published in the Boston Globe and The New York Times. He was chairman of the Harvard Political Union and served as one of three undergraduates chosen for an advisory board for the selection of the current president of Harvard. During his senior year, Vivek co-founded StudentBusinesses.com, a technology startup company which connected entrepreneurs with professional resources via the internet, and he led the company to its acquisition in 2009.
After Harvard college, Vivek worked for three years in life sciences investing in New York before pursuing his law degree.
Education
JD LAW | YALE UNIVERSITY 2013
AB BIOLOGY | HARVARD UNIVERSITY 2007
Awards
FORBES 30 UNDER 30 HONOREE
Work History
ROIVANT SCIENCES, FOUNDER AND CEO
I need to get one of them little fridge’s to put in my workshop.
Cause, you know, it’s too far to walk 3 steps to the one in my office right over there.
And, I need to mount 2 more speakers in the corners up at the ceiling opposite the other 2 that are already installed. That means, get out the ladder. That wobbly assed wooden one that’s 50 years old cause the good fiberglass one is in the house and I ain’t gonna go all the way in there and get it. So, wobbly ass here I come.
Out here in this 24′ x 24′ space are all the things that make dreams come true, or become abject failures, that I delve into all the time. All 4 workbenches are slammed with partly completed “projects”, that is, random things I have thought about and started but have not yet finished because of…..reasons.
That workbench right there for example. It has several solar panels, lots of wires and small copper tubes snaking all over the place, a couple of AGM batteries on chargers and misc. other stuff stacked up. The thought behind that “project” was to design and build a network of copper tubes that I could mount on the backside of some solar panels to try to siphon off heat build up in direct sunlight. Heat is detrimental to electrical output, which I have boosted with a layer of fresnel lenses, mirrors, and magnifying glass films, resulting in less output than I expect. So, some sort of cooling system is necessary and why not water?
Then there’s that new RC truck I purchased a couple months ago with all the guts yanked out and the box of new upgrade parts I had ordered but haven’t gotten around to installing. That takes up part of that other workbench over there. sigh
I dare not even look at the other benches with every type and size of wood pieces that will eventually be molded into something else, and the rest of that plywood standing against the wall that I purchased last year to install on the ceiling.
I come out here in the workshop and everything I see is of my own creation one way or the other. Disasterous and chaotic as it all might seem to the unknowing, to me it is all mapped out in my head for the most part and will be dealt with in it’s own time.
Just coming out here and sitting on a stool, sipping a can of suds, watching my mutt stretch out on the cool floor, some 70’s rock playing low, the ceiling fans breezin’, my blood pressure drops, my mind clears – and hazes, and the atmosphere wraps me like a quilt in the winter. This isn’t my workshop, it is my escape, my therapy, my anchor on reality.
I’m so weary of black pilled doomerism:
“Everything sucks. This is the worst it has ever been. Nothing matters. Nothing you do matters. Defeat is inevitable. Failure is inevitable. Everything used to be better. Nothing ever improves. Things only get worse. We can only lose. Winning is impossible. You can’t better yourself. Your efforts don’t matter. Everyone will let you down. Your only community is other people who are equally miserable. If anyone says there is hope they are a liar and must be attacked. If anyone else has made it, they cheated somehow. The lessons others have learned cannot be applied to you. Your situation is hopeless. If their situation is not hopeless, it is because their situation is somehow better than yours. You will never be loved. You cannot give love. Everyone around you is unworthy of love. Every person in the world is worse now than they were at some unspecified time in the past. The past was a rosy place and everything was comparable and better. You cannot find happiness. If someone else has happiness it is a lie. Or they achieved happiness at some time before and everything has changed for the worse since then making you achieving that happiness now impossible. Do not listen to real people. Listen to fake internet people only. The ones trying to sell you a seminar are the only ones who really care about you. Doom. Doom DOOM. DOOOOOOM.”
There. I just summed up several thousand social media posts for you.
What a bunch of miserable, bitter, loser ass cranks. Whatever the sub culture is, whatever their pet peeve is, it’s always this same schtick. Holy shit, it is tiresome. Get over yourselves.
Is life hard? Yeah. It’s fucking hard.
But you ain’t milking cows, so it could be worse.
You are the master of your own happiness. Me telling you that life doesn’t have to suck and you can improve your situation isn’t some Pollyanna nonsense. Shit is hard. Shit can be harder or easier depending on the choices you make. Some shit really sucks right now and is all sorts of screwed up… So?
Sometimes life kicks you in the balls. Sometimes you get hit by a truck or get terminal brain cancer. Most of you won’t.
Until then, do the best you can and look for opportunities to do better. Some stuff you can improve. Good. Improve it. Some stuff you can’t. That sucks. Some stuff is beyond your power to do anything about. Deal with it as best you can.
And now the doomers will yell at me variations all that bullshit I put in quotes. The details will vary, but it doesn’t matter. It’s all the same. Insert DOOM here. Doom can be for any topic, from dating to politics to jobs to whatever. It doesn’t matter. Pick one and there’s gonna be somebody who is miserable about it and won’t be content until everyone else is just as miserable as they are.
They’re like CS Lewis’ demons.
I know it is unfashionable to be an optimist nowadays, but there are people in gulags who sound happier than most of the Americans you run into on social media nowadays.
Because honestly guys, life is pretty fucking awesome most of the time. Yeah, there’s a lot of bullshit out there, the world is really screwed up in a lot of ways, and if you fixate on those you’re gonna be pretty miserable.
Sarah Hoyt once referred to me as “a happy warrior” because I enjoy fighting. I don’t mind conflict. I know that some stuff sucks, but you can make it better if you club it hard enough. That’s probably why this perpetual whining defeatism galls me so much. It’s like the opposite of being a happy warrior, like bitter pacifist instead, moping and complaining, and worse, trying to discourage others from actively doing anything to make it better.
You guys know I’m right. Pick whatever topic it is you’re passionate about and you know exactly the kind of people I’m talking about. It’s cancerous.
Plus, the doomers are usually full of shit anyway. If they actually believed what they were selling online, they’d have checked out. Instead they are extra invested in the debate (getting back to the demons of CS Lewis there). If the topic was politics, if they actually believed what they were saying, they wouldn’t be on Twitter yelling at people that all is lost why bother… they’d be improving their apocalypse bunker and digging more booby traps.
Well said, Ghost!
There is a great Darkness settling in on our nation, and what we have come to cherish as Western Civilization in the whole. It is deeply frightening, and there is little we can do to fight it. But “little” is far from “nothing,” and fight it we must.
But how? How do we fight this thing when even some of our friends and loved ones embrace the void? Most of my friends in the real world, and on-line are writers, musicians, and artists. Our weapons against the Darkness, are Goodness, Truth, and Beauty. As writers, musicians, and artists we are warriors in the Beauty division. Beauty speaks Truth, and in Truth dwells Goodness. Hone your weapons and fight like hell.
Let the lazy, and talentless fill the internet with phony AI pseudo-art; we choose to bust our asses creating the real thing: Beauty. Let the liars lie; we stand surely and quietly for Truth. Let the haters fill their guts with anger and spite; we have a duty, a sacred commitment to Goodness.
The big picture is too big to tackle. We live in the day-to-day world, and it is there we fight.
It’s where we really live, all of our life and beyond…
…I dreamed that I was standing in the kitchen of my childhood home. My Labrador retriever, who in real life died thirteen years ago, walked over and leaned against my leg. I looked down at her, into her eyes, and stroked the side of her face. When I awoke, I was shaken. The feeling of her weight against my thigh and the texture of her cheek, like crushed velvet, were sensations so specific that I could never have recalled them in conscious memory even if I’d tried. I lay in bed, grateful for whatever confusion had parsed my sleeping self into me and the dog I’d loved—whatever pattern of eye movements had conjured up her earnest face; whatever buried motor memory had played my twitching fingers across her cheek.
Good threads here. Good burger (I call it not Labor Day, but last grilled burger day).
On the subject of the election for POTUS 2024. I’ve gathered three scenarios, or theories, or plots, so far. I list them here with little analysis; just gathering info.
One possibility is the demz steal the election exactly the same way as last time, with lockdown protocols, county and state election authorities usurping legislative rules and election laws in order to fake ballots seven ways to Sunday, actual voter suppression, media bias at the level of weaponization against the Right – all that we suffered last time and were gaslighted about after the event.
Another possibility is this one I saw on a video short where this dude asks Alexa who will win the 2024 prez election, and the bish comes back with there won’t be an election – the demz will evoke the War Powers Act and cancel it! I was saying to my wife that it’d be very easy to just say we’re at war, and not really do or act any differently than we already are. Biden, in his greatest failure in office, has funded the daylights out of the Russo-Ukraine War, and yet never has stated a desired outcome for the US. The SOB could just do that; just say “we want x, y, or zed outcome,” and that’d be pretext for the WPAct and then make no other moves, and the election is gone. Gone like a Civil War soldier or a ’59 Cadillac. Poof! Or, he could declare whatever is happening in Taiwan a war. Hell, he could call the Mexican border a war, and make no changes in policy or action.
I’ll admit that’s a pretty crazy possibility but Alexa is a crazy chick, isn’t she? Third possibility is Trump keeps getting lawfared into oblivion, but even felony convictions do not harm his popularity or make him legally disqualified to run for office. He does get the GOPe nomination. Then, individual, key states and counties use the negative sentiment among their liberal voter base to throw Trump off the ballot. Legality don’t enter into it. It’d take too long for the Supreme Court to rule before the electoral votes are accepted, and at the same time the Left is demonizing the SCOTUS as much as possible. This scenario amounts to taking the whole republican party POTUS guy off the ballot, but the GOPe are riddled with wimps and pussies who will lay down and let it happen to them.
Any other scenarios? Your thoughts.
ghostsniperSeptember 5, 2023, 8:47 AM
Two things we know:
The dems successfully stole the last election.
The reps have done nothing about it.
=========
The next election will be similar but more in your face about it.
biden will have WAY more votes than trump – prolly 50 mil more.
the dems will steal the senate and the house – tricecta! Hat Trick!
And NOBODY will do anything about it.
A republican senator gets the same salary and benefits package and access to grift whether his/her party is in the majority or not. There is no benefit to winning but a big problem if they raise a stink. The reps have dirty hands and they have long been warned to tread softly, so they do just that. This is why none of the dem criminals are in jail. There’s no benefit.
Now, if a dead or alive bounty was placed on all criminals, say, $1000 in 99% gold coins and all citizens were turned loose on it, in 30 days no criminals would exist. I, for one, would have about 100 of them coins when the dust settled.
John A. FlemingSeptember 5, 2023, 12:00 PM
Ha gs. You chastened me with that article on giving in to doom and gloom above, and then here you go, “nobody will do anything about it”. See, doom and gloom is way too easy to fall into.
I think I agree with you that the DC-based uniparty Republican wing does not want to do what needs to be done to win. They are demoralized, stockholm’ed, despise Trump and the people who are with Trump. It’s the people with Trump who I think may not take this betrayal with passive resignation.
John A. FlemingSeptember 5, 2023, 1:16 PM
Okay, specifics. The mid-term elections provide a preview of strategies that will work in the next main 4-year election. In 2022, the reputed Repub wave fizzled. The Demos have perfected the art of “local, local, local” when it comes to election fraud.
In 2024, Trump is in jail (oh, they’re gonna do it, all those “judges” are just champing at the bit, they are so down with it) but runs anyway, with a vice-president pick. Biden will also either be in jail or close to it, or brain-dead, or somehow pushed aside after the convention. The objective now is to make sure whoever “wins”, they can’t assume the office by making them both illegitimate. Doesn’t matter who you vote for, even if they achieve 270+. The winning vice-president’s can’t step in because the President first has to assume the office.
So the election goes to the House, and the Speaker becomes the President. And we have reached Ayn Rand’s “Mr. Thompson, Head of State” condition, where the “President” is selected by the “peers” of the majority of the House.
The strategy is then: a) Trump in jail, b) Biden neutralized, c) put the House back in Democrat hands with targeted electoral fraud in key districts, d) install the Speaker.
Doom and gloomers worry 2020/2022/2024/… might be the last election. What if I told you that 2016 was the last election? No doom and gloom needed, instead it’s all forward looking, what do we do now? Don’t count on the establishment GOP to come up with anything. “Local, local, local” House seats, is where the battleground is for 2024.
ghostsniperSeptember 5, 2023, 2:26 PM
Very good. You’re right…local, local, local.
I believe THAT is the way of the future whether anyone agrees withy it or not.
In an environment where dishonesty is common the only way to keep any person honest is to keep them within arm swinging distance.
If your senator lies to you on TEEVEE all you can do is watch your blood pressure spike. But if you’re county commissioner lies right to your eyeballs you can reach right out and fuck up his dental records, and he knows it. He knows that going into it and he knows that all along the way. When you live close to people you “rule over” you tend to be easy handed and thoughtful. When you are 2000 miles away the concerns of those you “rule over” are of little concern to you.
So yeah, bust this big bitch up, back into the (50) little “countries” they were supposed to be all along but some how got converted in micro steps. Then reduce the fedgov to less than 100 people that mostly just make sure the statues on the pedestals are kept dusted.
DTSeptember 5, 2023, 5:03 PM
FJB disappears: dies – natural or not, or retires with full pomp and glory. Kamealot gets put in office but on a short leash (and short term). DJT gets assassinated – a gamble as to before the election or after. Martial law or martyrdom? Both? Doesn’t matter – he HAS to go. Probably Tucker as well.
Mike is the Dem candidate – and winner (“our 1st blank tranzie Prez – aren’t we proud of our tolerance”. Why else would we be getting prepped to accept such things?); doesn’t matter who the R candidate is – they don’t have anyone. If by some chance an R does win (presumable DJT – who else?), the Ds will do everything they can to burn the place down before inauguration. Neither side will accept the result …
American life continues on this path – death by 1000 cuts. Until the end.
Elections are meaningless anymore.
ghostsniperSeptember 5, 2023, 7:06 AM
It’s called “SpinLaunch”, similar to the sling David used to take out Goliath.
Swing the item round and round at 1200 rpms then let it go at a specific point.
The item will get to 40 miles above the earth where conventional rocket engines take over.
The point is the elimination of the gargantuan amount of rocket fuel required to get a rocket up to the 40 mile high area.
There a couple of quibble points in there that have not been discussed but say the theory is sound, let’s start from there.
The earth is already travelling in rotation of about 1000 mph in relation to the realm beyond the atmosphere. If the theory can be used at small scale (spinlaunch) then why not at full size scale (earth)?
I think based on my observations over time, that what worked in the last election, will not work in the next. Each election has a unique path to victory, history does not repeat. Even when an incumbent wins a second term, the second campaign is much different: the first time as insurgent, the second as incumbent against an insurgent. A losing strategy always is to repeat now what worked before.
It seems to be only possible to recognize the winning strategy in retrospect, up until now an election has been a singularity: both side try their strategy and tactics, and then the single day determines the winner. The winner always crows about how they were so smart, the top guys rest on their laurels and rake in the big bucks, and the deputies become the top guys for the next election. And then we find out they were not so smart after all. Anybody remember Robby Mook? Or Trump’s 2020 manager?
The massive fraud of 2020 won’t be repeated. They will try but they know the other side is watching and resisting. If they succeed in keeping Trump’s name off the “battleground” states, they may create actual battlegrounds. That is a truly dangerous tactic.
They want to retain their 2020 fraud advantage, but they are going to have to be a lot more devious. Time to put on your black hat and think hard, the obvious tactics we can think up in 5 or 10 minutes are not what they will actually do.
ghostsniperSeptember 5, 2023, 2:42 PM
The Conversation
============
Shannon and me were sitting on the porch, each of us lost in thought, when I said, “It’d be pretty cool if you had hands. Just think of all the stuff you could do.”
She thought for a moment and replied, “Yeah, that would be cool. Then I could punch your ass in the face.”
I was gobsmacked.
I asked, “What would you want to punch yer ol’ gray haired pappy in the face for?”
She snapped, “It’s been more than 3 hours since you gave me that last cookie and you act like it’s the last thing on your mind.”
I queried, “So you want to punch me in the face because I simply forgot something?”
Shannon explained, “Look, I don’t have a whole lot going on my life. I don’t have a job. I don’t watch TEEVEE, and I dam sure don’t surf that web. I don’t even play solitaire with cards very often. IOW, my entire life is all about waiting for YOU to make things happen and when they don’t happen I start to get seriously bored. I’m a sporting dog!, a working dog!, but all I do is lay around watching and listening to you. And when you don’t even honor our social agreement, well yeah, I tend to take it seriously. So my notion of punching your ass in the face stands.”
“Well now.”, I said. “I had no idea you took these things so seriously but you can bet your bottom dollar that from this point forth I will make more of an effort to not be slack in the cookie delivery service around here.”
Shannon looked back over her shoulder at me beaming. I rubbed her noggin and said, “Let’s go for a stroll!”, and she danced and danced and danced.
AnneSeptember 5, 2023, 9:19 PM
I live in a town in MT. A town that used to be proud of it’s working class. In the late 1970’s hippies in a VW van with a BA in their pocket moved into town and took over the small university.
Today we have two hospitals. Almost all of the white men have been pushed off of the family medical staff in one hospital, and in the other hospital, all new doctors are either female or gay. The local newspaper has been reduced to three days a week and most of that is online. The school of journalism is proud to announce that “no one can report an event objectively. Everything a reporter sees will be filtered. Therefore advocacy is the new journalism” Journalism students used to be required to attend the weekly city council meeting for one semester. Now they don’t even have to attend one. No way to follow an issue through the governing process. No way to see how corrupt our city council has become. But we have exposed them on multiple occasions. Live, in person, with their books being examined in front of the audience in the room. None of that is ever reported in our newspaper! The 2020 election was corrupt. We have multiple proofs, but were never able to get to court. Twelve years of democratic rule will load up the legal system. In order to get the Republican public to vote again, the Republican party demand a recount. The ballots were held in secret for 18 months until a new computer counting system was installed. Then the ballots were brought out and run through the new system guaranteeing that every ballot is counted legally. Yeah sure you betcha. It was better than if nothing had been done, at least it helped to convince a few Republicans that maybe their vote would count, but most of us know it was all theater!
ghostsniperSeptember 6, 2023, 3:31 AM
What is the name of that town?
AnneSeptember 6, 2023, 6:44 PM
Sorry, I would rather not say.
ghostsniperSeptember 7, 2023, 3:42 AM
We’ve been looking for some acreage to relocate to in various northern states and Montana is one of them. We have friends that run a high end dog training facility close to Broadview. It’s pretty flat and stark in that area. I’d like to be a little closer to the mountains. Everything is so expensive.
AnneSeptember 7, 2023, 8:18 AM
It started to become “immediately” expensive two years back when Portland and Minneapolis let the blacks run rampant and destroy small businesses. White middle-class people filled their U-Haul and their Penske trucks and headed to Missoula MT. You are a little late but areas away from the university towns are not that bad. ALWAYS look for water on the property!
Bob ClarkSeptember 8, 2023, 9:37 AM
Thank you Ghostsniper for the article on Dreams. Fascinating.
ghostsniperSeptember 8, 2023, 9:59 AM
Glad you liked Bob.
One day it will be common knowledge that dreams are who we really are, and what we think we are living each day is really a dream. Let that roll around for a spell.
signed
Gary Wright
Real World Address for Donations, Mash Notes and Hate Mail
Gerard Van der Leun
1692 MANGROVE AVE
APT 379
Chico, Ca 95926
Green Pants Interior by Klahn
Who Am I? by Carl Sandburg
My head knocks against the stars.
My feet are on the hilltops.
My finger-tips are in the valleys and shores of universal life.
Down in the sounding foam of primal things I reach my hands and play with pebbles of destiny.
I have been to hell and back many times.
I know all about heaven, for I have talked with God.
I dabble in the blood and guts of the terrible.
I know the passionate seizure of beauty
And the marvelous rebellion of man at all signs reading “Keep Off.”
My name is Truth and I am the most elusive captive in the universe.
Duty, Beauty, Liberty, Country, Honor, Family, Faith — Plus a few simple easy to follow rules for guys
Men saw the stars at the edge of the sea
They thought great thoughts about liberty
Poets wrote down words that did fit
Writers wrote books
Thinkers thought about it
Take it where you find it
Can’t leave it alone
You will find a purpose
To carry it on
Mainly when you find it
Your heart will be strong
About it
Many’s the road I have walked upon
Many’s the hour between dusk and dawn
Many’s the time
Many’s the mile
I see it all now
Through the eyes of a child
Take it where you find it
Can’t leave it alone
You will find a purpose
To carry it on
Mainly when you find it
Your heart will be strong
About it
[Chorus]
Lost dreams and found dreams
In America
In America
In America
Lost dreams and found dreams
In America
In America
In America
And close your eyes
Leave it all for a while
Leave the world
And your worries behind
You will build on whatever is real
And wake up each day
To a new waking dream
Take it where you find it
Can’t leave it alone
You will find a purpose
To carry it on
Mainly when you find it
Your heart will be strong
About it
[Chorus]
Change, change come over
Change come over
Talkin’ about a change
Change, change
Change come over, now
Change, change, change come over
I’m gonna walk down the street
Until I see
My shining light
I’m gonna walk down the street
Until I see
My shining light
I’m gonna walk down the street
Until I see
My shining light
I’m gonna walk down the street
Until I see
My shining light
I see my light
See my light
See my shining light
I see my light
See my light
See my shining light
Gerard Van der Leun
Comments on this entry are closed.
That one says it all.
Almost.
Where da budlite iz?
I am a burger fanatic. Where was this picture taken? Is it at a restaurant that I might someday be able to reach by car?
Anne:
Unfortunately, I don’t know where the photo was taken. If I did, I’d go there myself!
There is a reason why much of what you are observing “out there” is unreal.
Always remember what is real, and beautiful, and good – never sway. Ever.
The essence of globalism is satanic, and the essence of Satanism is globalist. Because Satan’s plan is to establish the reign of the Antichrist, allowing him to parody Christ’s earthly life, to imitate His miracles with grotesque wonders, to lead crowds not with the simplicity of Truth but with deception and lies. Globalism is, so to speak, the staging, the script and the scenario that must prepare humanity for the political ascent of the Antichrist, to whom the leaders of the world – his servants – will cede national sovereignty so that he becomes a kind of global tyrant.
But the kingdom of the Antichrist is not created out of nothing: it is first necessary to erase what remains of the kingdom of Christ in the institutions, in the culture and in the daily life of the citizens. Moral dissolution is one of the simplest means of subjugating the masses, encouraging them to vice, ridiculing virtue; and, of course, by destroying the natural family, the fundamental cell of society. Once the family is demolished, the children become commodities, products that those with money can order over the Internet, fuelling the vast and growing criminal network, not to mention the surrogacy industry. Divorce, abortion, euthanasia, homosexuality and pan- sexualism, mutilation for gender transition have proven to be effective tools for eliminating not only the revealed Faith, but also the most sacred principles of Natural Law.
And it is indeed a religion, the one that is being established with the Woke ideology; a religion which, like the true Religion but with diametrically opposed goals, intends to impose itself in society, to imbue its dogmas into the institutions, the laws, the education, the culture, the arts and human activities. The globalists apply the Catholic principles of “social kingship,” but proclaim Satan king of society: Te nationum præsides honore tollant publico: colant magistri, judices; leges et artes exprimant. May the rulers of the world publicly honour and extol Thee; May teachers and judges reverence Thee; May the laws and the arts bear Thy mark. These are the words of the hymn of Christ the King, but we see them applied blasphemously by the priests of the New World Order to their king, the prince of this world, and to the Antichrist in his time.
Beware though: globalism, as an emanation of Masonic and revolutionary thought, apparently proclaims democracy and condemns absolute regimes; but in fact, it knows very well that the Monarchy of Divine Right is the best possible form of government, because it subjugates everyone – including the king himself, who is the Vicar of Christ in temporal things – to a transcendent law to which everyone owes obedience.
https://remnantnewspaper.com/web/index.php/fetzen-fliegen/item/6775-vigano-responds-to-mediapressinfo-on-the-request-for-dissolution-of-civitas
How I Became A Socialist
(1905), Jack London
It is quite fair to say that I became a Socialist in a fashion somewhat similar to the way in which the Teutonic pagans became Christians–it was hammered into me. Not only was I not looking for Socialism at the time of my conversion, but I was fighting it. I was very young and callow, did not know much of anything, and though I had never even heard of a school called “Individualism,” I sang the paean of the strong with all my heart.
This was because I was strong myself. By strong I mean that I had good health and hard muscles, both of which possessions are easily accounted for. I had lived my childhood on California ranches, my boyhood hustling newspapers on the streets of a healthy Western city, and my youth on the ozone-laden waters of San Francisco Bay and the Pacific Ocean. I loved life in the open, and I toiled in the open, at the hardest kinds of work. Learning no trade, but drifting along from job to job, I looked on the world and called it good, every bit of it. Let me repeat, this optimism was because I was healthy and strong, bothered with neither aches nor weaknesses, never turned down by the boss because I did not look fit, able always to get a job at shovelling coal, sailorizing, or manual labor of some sort.
And because of all this, exulting in my young life, able to hold my own at work or fight, I was a rampant individualist. It was very natural. I was a winner. Wherefore I called the game, as I saw it played, or thought I saw it played, a very proper game for MEN. To be a MAN was to write man in large capitals on my heart. To adventure like a man, and fight like a man, and do a man’s work (even for a boy’s pay)–these were things that reached right in and gripped hold of me as no other thing could. And I looked ahead into long vistas of a hazy and interminable future, into which, playing what I conceived to be MAN’S game, I should continue to travel with unfailing health, without accidents, and with muscles ever vigorous. As I say, this future was interminable. I could see myself only raging through life without end like one of Nietzsche’s blond-beasts, lustfully roving and conquering by sheer superiority and strength.
As for the unfortunates, the sick, and ailing, and old, and maimed, I must confess I hardly thought of them at all, save that I vaguely felt that they, barring accidents, could be as good as I if they wanted to real hard, and could work just as well. Accidents? Well, they represented FATE, also spelled out in capitals, and there was no getting around FATE. Napoleon had had an accident at Waterloo, but that did not dampen my desire to be another and later Napoleon. Further, the optimism bred of a stomach which could digest scrap iron and a body which flourished on hardships did not permit me to consider accidents as even remotely related to my glorious personality.
I hope I have made it clear that I was proud to be one of Nature’s strong-armed noblemen. The dignity of labor was to me the most impressive thing in the world. Without having read Carlyle, or Kipling, I formulated a gospel of work which put theirs in the shade. Work was everything. It was sanctification and salvation. The pride I took in a hard day’s work well done would be inconceivable to you. It is almost inconceivable to me as I look back upon it. I was as faithful a wage slave as ever capitalist exploited. To shirk or malinger on the man who paid me my wages was a sin, first, against myself, and second, against him. I considered it a crime second only to treason and just about as bad.
In short, my joyous individualism was dominated by the orthodox bourgeois ethics. I read the bourgeois papers, listened to the bourgeois preachers, and shouted at the sonorous platitudes of the bourgeois politicians. And I doubt not, if other events had not changed my career, that I should have evolved into a professional strike-breaker, (one of President Eliot’s American heroes), and had my head and my earning power irrevocably smashed by a club in the hands of some militant trades-unionist.
Just about this time, returning from a seven months’ voyage before the mast, and just turned eighteen, I took it into my head to go tramping. On rods and blind baggages I fought my way from the open West where men bucked big and the job hunted the man, to the congested labor centres of the East, where men were small potatoes and hunted the job for all they were worth. And on this new blond-beast adventure I found myself looking upon life from a new and totally different angle. I had dropped down from the proletariat into what sociologists love to call the “submerged tenth,” and I was startled to discover the way in which that submerged tenth was recruited.
I found there all sorts of men, many of whom had once been as good as myself and just as blond-beast; sailor-men, soldier-men, labor-men, all wrenched and distorted and twisted out of shape by toil and hardship and accident, and cast adrift by their masters like so many old horses. I battered on the drag and slammed back gates with them, or shivered with them in box cars and city parks, listening the while to life-histories which began under auspices as fair as mine, with digestions and bodies equal to and better than mine, and which ended there before my eyes in the shambles at the bottom of the Social Pit.
And as I listened my brain began to work. The woman of the streets and the man of the gutter drew very close to me. I saw the picture of the Social Pit as vividly as though it were a concrete thing, and at the bottom of the Pit I saw them, myself above them, not far, and hanging on to the slippery wall by main strength and sweat. And I confess a terror seized me. What when my strength failed? when I should be unable to work shoulder to shoulder with the strong men who were as yet babes unborn? And there and then I swore a great oath. It ran something like this: All my days I have worked hard with my body, and according to the number of days I have worked, by just that much am I nearer the bottom of the Pit. I shall climb out of the Pit, but not by the muscles of my body shall I climb out. I shall do no more hard work, and may God strike me dead if I do another day’s hard work with my body more than I absolutely have to do. And I have been busy ever since running away from hard work.
Incidentally, while tramping some ten thousand miles through the United States and Canada, I strayed into Niagara Falls, was nabbed by a fee-hunting constable, denied the right to plead guilty or not guilty, sentenced out of hand to thirty days’ imprisonment for having no fixed abode and no visible means of support, handcuffed and chained to a bunch of men similarly circumstanced, carted down country to Buffalo, registered at the Erie County Penitentiary, had my head clipped and my budding mustache shaved, was dressed in convict stripes, compulsorily vaccinated by a medical student who practised on such as we, made to march the lock-step, and put to work under the eyes of guards armed with Winchester rifles–all for adventuring in blond-beastly fashion. Concerning further details deponent sayeth not, though he may hint that some of his plethoric national patriotism simmered down and leaked out of the bottom of his soul somewhere–at least, since that experience he finds that he cares more for men and women and little children than for imaginary geographical lines.
* * * * * * *
To return to my conversion. I think it is apparent that my rampant individualism was pretty effectively hammered out of me, and something else as effectively hammered in. But, just as I had been an individualist without knowing it, I was now a Socialist without knowing it, withal, an unscientific one. I had been reborn, but not renamed, and I was running around to find out what manner of thing I was. I ran back to California and opened the books. I do not remember which ones I opened first. It is an unimportant detail anyway. I was already It, whatever It was, and by aid of the books I discovered that It was a Socialist. Since that day I have opened many books, but no economic argument, no lucid demonstration of the logic and inevitableness of Socialism affects me as profoundly and convincingly as I was affected on the day when I first saw the walls of the Social Pit rise around me and felt myself slipping down, down, into the shambles at the bottom.
THE END.
Jarek: “Hard work never hurt anybody” – one of the biggest lies ever told. It doesn’t hurt you if you can stop when you need to and recover from it. You know, like animals do after a long hunt? But to do exactly the same every day, well you will become less and less. At the stores I regularly go to, I’ve watched the light go out of young workers eyes as they get worn down.
London himself once signed on to a factory that promised to bring him up thru the ranks if he did a good job. So he shoveled coal for 10 hours a day, proudly doing the work of two men. He noted the resentment of other workers – his inferiors! Then one of them told him: They did the same to another young guy. Once you start to slow down, they’ll get rid of you and get another one. He realized his error and quit. The managerial class is scum, seeing people as things or means to an end. The owner class which employs such de facto slave masters is no better.
First we had to serve the machines. Now the machines are replacing us. No one cared when they replaced menial laborers – or offshored their jobs overseas; or insourced coolies to undercut them. No one will care now that AI is coming for the white collar workers. Indeed, independent blue collar guys are going to survive at least for awhile. Robotics is lagging far behind IT at this point. Women are a gonna get hit hard in particular. Mary jokes about how thrilled her colleagues are about AI even as it will soon replace them.
Them Soro’s people….
Vivek Ramaswamy, 2011
Founder and CEO, Roivant Sciences
Vivek Ramaswamy is the child of immigrants from India
Fellowship awarded to support work towards a JD in Law at Yale University
VIVEK RAMASWAMY is the founder and CEO of Roivant Sciences.
Vivek was born in Cincinnati to Indian parents. In high school he was class valedictorian, a nationally ranked junior tennis player and an accomplished pianist.
Vivek graduated from Harvard College in 2007, summa cum laude and Phi Beta Kappa with a major in biology. Later he entered Yale Law School.
While at Harvard, a precis of his senior thesis, on the ethical questions raised by creating human-animal chimeras was published in the Boston Globe and The New York Times. He was chairman of the Harvard Political Union and served as one of three undergraduates chosen for an advisory board for the selection of the current president of Harvard. During his senior year, Vivek co-founded StudentBusinesses.com, a technology startup company which connected entrepreneurs with professional resources via the internet, and he led the company to its acquisition in 2009.
After Harvard college, Vivek worked for three years in life sciences investing in New York before pursuing his law degree.
Education
JD LAW | YALE UNIVERSITY 2013
AB BIOLOGY | HARVARD UNIVERSITY 2007
Awards
FORBES 30 UNDER 30 HONOREE
Work History
ROIVANT SCIENCES, FOUNDER AND CEO
https://www.pdsoros.org/meet-the-fellows/vivek-ramaswamy
Where my shovel iz??? (it’ll come to ya)
I need to get one of them little fridge’s to put in my workshop.
Cause, you know, it’s too far to walk 3 steps to the one in my office right over there.
And, I need to mount 2 more speakers in the corners up at the ceiling opposite the other 2 that are already installed. That means, get out the ladder. That wobbly assed wooden one that’s 50 years old cause the good fiberglass one is in the house and I ain’t gonna go all the way in there and get it. So, wobbly ass here I come.
Out here in this 24′ x 24′ space are all the things that make dreams come true, or become abject failures, that I delve into all the time. All 4 workbenches are slammed with partly completed “projects”, that is, random things I have thought about and started but have not yet finished because of…..reasons.
That workbench right there for example. It has several solar panels, lots of wires and small copper tubes snaking all over the place, a couple of AGM batteries on chargers and misc. other stuff stacked up. The thought behind that “project” was to design and build a network of copper tubes that I could mount on the backside of some solar panels to try to siphon off heat build up in direct sunlight. Heat is detrimental to electrical output, which I have boosted with a layer of fresnel lenses, mirrors, and magnifying glass films, resulting in less output than I expect. So, some sort of cooling system is necessary and why not water?
Then there’s that new RC truck I purchased a couple months ago with all the guts yanked out and the box of new upgrade parts I had ordered but haven’t gotten around to installing. That takes up part of that other workbench over there. sigh
I dare not even look at the other benches with every type and size of wood pieces that will eventually be molded into something else, and the rest of that plywood standing against the wall that I purchased last year to install on the ceiling.
I come out here in the workshop and everything I see is of my own creation one way or the other. Disasterous and chaotic as it all might seem to the unknowing, to me it is all mapped out in my head for the most part and will be dealt with in it’s own time.
Just coming out here and sitting on a stool, sipping a can of suds, watching my mutt stretch out on the cool floor, some 70’s rock playing low, the ceiling fans breezin’, my blood pressure drops, my mind clears – and hazes, and the atmosphere wraps me like a quilt in the winter. This isn’t my workshop, it is my escape, my therapy, my anchor on reality.
I’m so weary of black pilled doomerism:
“Everything sucks. This is the worst it has ever been. Nothing matters. Nothing you do matters. Defeat is inevitable. Failure is inevitable. Everything used to be better. Nothing ever improves. Things only get worse. We can only lose. Winning is impossible. You can’t better yourself. Your efforts don’t matter. Everyone will let you down. Your only community is other people who are equally miserable. If anyone says there is hope they are a liar and must be attacked. If anyone else has made it, they cheated somehow. The lessons others have learned cannot be applied to you. Your situation is hopeless. If their situation is not hopeless, it is because their situation is somehow better than yours. You will never be loved. You cannot give love. Everyone around you is unworthy of love. Every person in the world is worse now than they were at some unspecified time in the past. The past was a rosy place and everything was comparable and better. You cannot find happiness. If someone else has happiness it is a lie. Or they achieved happiness at some time before and everything has changed for the worse since then making you achieving that happiness now impossible. Do not listen to real people. Listen to fake internet people only. The ones trying to sell you a seminar are the only ones who really care about you. Doom. Doom DOOM. DOOOOOOM.”
There. I just summed up several thousand social media posts for you.
What a bunch of miserable, bitter, loser ass cranks. Whatever the sub culture is, whatever their pet peeve is, it’s always this same schtick. Holy shit, it is tiresome. Get over yourselves.
Is life hard? Yeah. It’s fucking hard.
But you ain’t milking cows, so it could be worse.
You are the master of your own happiness. Me telling you that life doesn’t have to suck and you can improve your situation isn’t some Pollyanna nonsense. Shit is hard. Shit can be harder or easier depending on the choices you make. Some shit really sucks right now and is all sorts of screwed up… So?
Sometimes life kicks you in the balls. Sometimes you get hit by a truck or get terminal brain cancer. Most of you won’t.
Until then, do the best you can and look for opportunities to do better. Some stuff you can improve. Good. Improve it. Some stuff you can’t. That sucks. Some stuff is beyond your power to do anything about. Deal with it as best you can.
And now the doomers will yell at me variations all that bullshit I put in quotes. The details will vary, but it doesn’t matter. It’s all the same. Insert DOOM here. Doom can be for any topic, from dating to politics to jobs to whatever. It doesn’t matter. Pick one and there’s gonna be somebody who is miserable about it and won’t be content until everyone else is just as miserable as they are.
They’re like CS Lewis’ demons.
I know it is unfashionable to be an optimist nowadays, but there are people in gulags who sound happier than most of the Americans you run into on social media nowadays.
Because honestly guys, life is pretty fucking awesome most of the time. Yeah, there’s a lot of bullshit out there, the world is really screwed up in a lot of ways, and if you fixate on those you’re gonna be pretty miserable.
Sarah Hoyt once referred to me as “a happy warrior” because I enjoy fighting. I don’t mind conflict. I know that some stuff sucks, but you can make it better if you club it hard enough. That’s probably why this perpetual whining defeatism galls me so much. It’s like the opposite of being a happy warrior, like bitter pacifist instead, moping and complaining, and worse, trying to discourage others from actively doing anything to make it better.
You guys know I’m right. Pick whatever topic it is you’re passionate about and you know exactly the kind of people I’m talking about. It’s cancerous.
Plus, the doomers are usually full of shit anyway. If they actually believed what they were selling online, they’d have checked out. Instead they are extra invested in the debate (getting back to the demons of CS Lewis there). If the topic was politics, if they actually believed what they were saying, they wouldn’t be on Twitter yelling at people that all is lost why bother… they’d be improving their apocalypse bunker and digging more booby traps.
https://monsterhunternation.com/2023/09/04/black-pill-doomerism-nonsense/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=black-pill-doomerism-nonsense
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LA7383noev8
🙂
You know why people are assholes?
Cause people let them get away with it.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2ACoKLYaIO0
Well said, Ghost!
There is a great Darkness settling in on our nation, and what we have come to cherish as Western Civilization in the whole. It is deeply frightening, and there is little we can do to fight it. But “little” is far from “nothing,” and fight it we must.
But how? How do we fight this thing when even some of our friends and loved ones embrace the void? Most of my friends in the real world, and on-line are writers, musicians, and artists. Our weapons against the Darkness, are Goodness, Truth, and Beauty. As writers, musicians, and artists we are warriors in the Beauty division. Beauty speaks Truth, and in Truth dwells Goodness. Hone your weapons and fight like hell.
Let the lazy, and talentless fill the internet with phony AI pseudo-art; we choose to bust our asses creating the real thing: Beauty. Let the liars lie; we stand surely and quietly for Truth. Let the haters fill their guts with anger and spite; we have a duty, a sacred commitment to Goodness.
The big picture is too big to tackle. We live in the day-to-day world, and it is there we fight.
JWM
Until the 14th…
Waning Moon
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s0V26TUbqe8
It’s where we really live, all of our life and beyond…
…I dreamed that I was standing in the kitchen of my childhood home. My Labrador retriever, who in real life died thirteen years ago, walked over and leaned against my leg. I looked down at her, into her eyes, and stroked the side of her face. When I awoke, I was shaken. The feeling of her weight against my thigh and the texture of her cheek, like crushed velvet, were sensations so specific that I could never have recalled them in conscious memory even if I’d tried. I lay in bed, grateful for whatever confusion had parsed my sleeping self into me and the dog I’d loved—whatever pattern of eye movements had conjured up her earnest face; whatever buried motor memory had played my twitching fingers across her cheek.
https://www.newyorker.com/science/elements/what-are-dreams-for
Good threads here. Good burger (I call it not Labor Day, but last grilled burger day).
On the subject of the election for POTUS 2024. I’ve gathered three scenarios, or theories, or plots, so far. I list them here with little analysis; just gathering info.
One possibility is the demz steal the election exactly the same way as last time, with lockdown protocols, county and state election authorities usurping legislative rules and election laws in order to fake ballots seven ways to Sunday, actual voter suppression, media bias at the level of weaponization against the Right – all that we suffered last time and were gaslighted about after the event.
Another possibility is this one I saw on a video short where this dude asks Alexa who will win the 2024 prez election, and the bish comes back with there won’t be an election – the demz will evoke the War Powers Act and cancel it! I was saying to my wife that it’d be very easy to just say we’re at war, and not really do or act any differently than we already are. Biden, in his greatest failure in office, has funded the daylights out of the Russo-Ukraine War, and yet never has stated a desired outcome for the US. The SOB could just do that; just say “we want x, y, or zed outcome,” and that’d be pretext for the WPAct and then make no other moves, and the election is gone. Gone like a Civil War soldier or a ’59 Cadillac. Poof! Or, he could declare whatever is happening in Taiwan a war. Hell, he could call the Mexican border a war, and make no changes in policy or action.
I’ll admit that’s a pretty crazy possibility but Alexa is a crazy chick, isn’t she? Third possibility is Trump keeps getting lawfared into oblivion, but even felony convictions do not harm his popularity or make him legally disqualified to run for office. He does get the GOPe nomination. Then, individual, key states and counties use the negative sentiment among their liberal voter base to throw Trump off the ballot. Legality don’t enter into it. It’d take too long for the Supreme Court to rule before the electoral votes are accepted, and at the same time the Left is demonizing the SCOTUS as much as possible. This scenario amounts to taking the whole republican party POTUS guy off the ballot, but the GOPe are riddled with wimps and pussies who will lay down and let it happen to them.
Any other scenarios? Your thoughts.
Two things we know:
The dems successfully stole the last election.
The reps have done nothing about it.
=========
The next election will be similar but more in your face about it.
biden will have WAY more votes than trump – prolly 50 mil more.
the dems will steal the senate and the house – tricecta! Hat Trick!
And NOBODY will do anything about it.
A republican senator gets the same salary and benefits package and access to grift whether his/her party is in the majority or not. There is no benefit to winning but a big problem if they raise a stink. The reps have dirty hands and they have long been warned to tread softly, so they do just that. This is why none of the dem criminals are in jail. There’s no benefit.
Now, if a dead or alive bounty was placed on all criminals, say, $1000 in 99% gold coins and all citizens were turned loose on it, in 30 days no criminals would exist. I, for one, would have about 100 of them coins when the dust settled.
Ha gs. You chastened me with that article on giving in to doom and gloom above, and then here you go, “nobody will do anything about it”. See, doom and gloom is way too easy to fall into.
I think I agree with you that the DC-based uniparty Republican wing does not want to do what needs to be done to win. They are demoralized, stockholm’ed, despise Trump and the people who are with Trump. It’s the people with Trump who I think may not take this betrayal with passive resignation.
Okay, specifics. The mid-term elections provide a preview of strategies that will work in the next main 4-year election. In 2022, the reputed Repub wave fizzled. The Demos have perfected the art of “local, local, local” when it comes to election fraud.
In 2024, Trump is in jail (oh, they’re gonna do it, all those “judges” are just champing at the bit, they are so down with it) but runs anyway, with a vice-president pick. Biden will also either be in jail or close to it, or brain-dead, or somehow pushed aside after the convention. The objective now is to make sure whoever “wins”, they can’t assume the office by making them both illegitimate. Doesn’t matter who you vote for, even if they achieve 270+. The winning vice-president’s can’t step in because the President first has to assume the office.
So the election goes to the House, and the Speaker becomes the President. And we have reached Ayn Rand’s “Mr. Thompson, Head of State” condition, where the “President” is selected by the “peers” of the majority of the House.
The strategy is then: a) Trump in jail, b) Biden neutralized, c) put the House back in Democrat hands with targeted electoral fraud in key districts, d) install the Speaker.
Doom and gloomers worry 2020/2022/2024/… might be the last election. What if I told you that 2016 was the last election? No doom and gloom needed, instead it’s all forward looking, what do we do now? Don’t count on the establishment GOP to come up with anything. “Local, local, local” House seats, is where the battleground is for 2024.
Very good. You’re right…local, local, local.
I believe THAT is the way of the future whether anyone agrees withy it or not.
In an environment where dishonesty is common the only way to keep any person honest is to keep them within arm swinging distance.
If your senator lies to you on TEEVEE all you can do is watch your blood pressure spike. But if you’re county commissioner lies right to your eyeballs you can reach right out and fuck up his dental records, and he knows it. He knows that going into it and he knows that all along the way. When you live close to people you “rule over” you tend to be easy handed and thoughtful. When you are 2000 miles away the concerns of those you “rule over” are of little concern to you.
So yeah, bust this big bitch up, back into the (50) little “countries” they were supposed to be all along but some how got converted in micro steps. Then reduce the fedgov to less than 100 people that mostly just make sure the statues on the pedestals are kept dusted.
FJB disappears: dies – natural or not, or retires with full pomp and glory. Kamealot gets put in office but on a short leash (and short term). DJT gets assassinated – a gamble as to before the election or after. Martial law or martyrdom? Both? Doesn’t matter – he HAS to go. Probably Tucker as well.
Mike is the Dem candidate – and winner (“our 1st blank tranzie Prez – aren’t we proud of our tolerance”. Why else would we be getting prepped to accept such things?); doesn’t matter who the R candidate is – they don’t have anyone. If by some chance an R does win (presumable DJT – who else?), the Ds will do everything they can to burn the place down before inauguration. Neither side will accept the result …
American life continues on this path – death by 1000 cuts. Until the end.
Elections are meaningless anymore.
It’s called “SpinLaunch”, similar to the sling David used to take out Goliath.
Swing the item round and round at 1200 rpms then let it go at a specific point.
The item will get to 40 miles above the earth where conventional rocket engines take over.
The point is the elimination of the gargantuan amount of rocket fuel required to get a rocket up to the 40 mile high area.
There a couple of quibble points in there that have not been discussed but say the theory is sound, let’s start from there.
The earth is already travelling in rotation of about 1000 mph in relation to the realm beyond the atmosphere. If the theory can be used at small scale (spinlaunch) then why not at full size scale (earth)?
See a demonstration here:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=csFyhYSLwic&t=462s
https://www.spinlaunch.com/
I think based on my observations over time, that what worked in the last election, will not work in the next. Each election has a unique path to victory, history does not repeat. Even when an incumbent wins a second term, the second campaign is much different: the first time as insurgent, the second as incumbent against an insurgent. A losing strategy always is to repeat now what worked before.
It seems to be only possible to recognize the winning strategy in retrospect, up until now an election has been a singularity: both side try their strategy and tactics, and then the single day determines the winner. The winner always crows about how they were so smart, the top guys rest on their laurels and rake in the big bucks, and the deputies become the top guys for the next election. And then we find out they were not so smart after all. Anybody remember Robby Mook? Or Trump’s 2020 manager?
The massive fraud of 2020 won’t be repeated. They will try but they know the other side is watching and resisting. If they succeed in keeping Trump’s name off the “battleground” states, they may create actual battlegrounds. That is a truly dangerous tactic.
They want to retain their 2020 fraud advantage, but they are going to have to be a lot more devious. Time to put on your black hat and think hard, the obvious tactics we can think up in 5 or 10 minutes are not what they will actually do.
The Conversation
============
Shannon and me were sitting on the porch, each of us lost in thought, when I said, “It’d be pretty cool if you had hands. Just think of all the stuff you could do.”
She thought for a moment and replied, “Yeah, that would be cool. Then I could punch your ass in the face.”
I was gobsmacked.
I asked, “What would you want to punch yer ol’ gray haired pappy in the face for?”
She snapped, “It’s been more than 3 hours since you gave me that last cookie and you act like it’s the last thing on your mind.”
I queried, “So you want to punch me in the face because I simply forgot something?”
Shannon explained, “Look, I don’t have a whole lot going on my life. I don’t have a job. I don’t watch TEEVEE, and I dam sure don’t surf that web. I don’t even play solitaire with cards very often. IOW, my entire life is all about waiting for YOU to make things happen and when they don’t happen I start to get seriously bored. I’m a sporting dog!, a working dog!, but all I do is lay around watching and listening to you. And when you don’t even honor our social agreement, well yeah, I tend to take it seriously. So my notion of punching your ass in the face stands.”
“Well now.”, I said. “I had no idea you took these things so seriously but you can bet your bottom dollar that from this point forth I will make more of an effort to not be slack in the cookie delivery service around here.”
Shannon looked back over her shoulder at me beaming. I rubbed her noggin and said, “Let’s go for a stroll!”, and she danced and danced and danced.
I live in a town in MT. A town that used to be proud of it’s working class. In the late 1970’s hippies in a VW van with a BA in their pocket moved into town and took over the small university.
Today we have two hospitals. Almost all of the white men have been pushed off of the family medical staff in one hospital, and in the other hospital, all new doctors are either female or gay. The local newspaper has been reduced to three days a week and most of that is online. The school of journalism is proud to announce that “no one can report an event objectively. Everything a reporter sees will be filtered. Therefore advocacy is the new journalism” Journalism students used to be required to attend the weekly city council meeting for one semester. Now they don’t even have to attend one. No way to follow an issue through the governing process. No way to see how corrupt our city council has become. But we have exposed them on multiple occasions. Live, in person, with their books being examined in front of the audience in the room. None of that is ever reported in our newspaper! The 2020 election was corrupt. We have multiple proofs, but were never able to get to court. Twelve years of democratic rule will load up the legal system. In order to get the Republican public to vote again, the Republican party demand a recount. The ballots were held in secret for 18 months until a new computer counting system was installed. Then the ballots were brought out and run through the new system guaranteeing that every ballot is counted legally. Yeah sure you betcha. It was better than if nothing had been done, at least it helped to convince a few Republicans that maybe their vote would count, but most of us know it was all theater!
What is the name of that town?
Sorry, I would rather not say.
We’ve been looking for some acreage to relocate to in various northern states and Montana is one of them. We have friends that run a high end dog training facility close to Broadview. It’s pretty flat and stark in that area. I’d like to be a little closer to the mountains. Everything is so expensive.
It started to become “immediately” expensive two years back when Portland and Minneapolis let the blacks run rampant and destroy small businesses. White middle-class people filled their U-Haul and their Penske trucks and headed to Missoula MT. You are a little late but areas away from the university towns are not that bad. ALWAYS look for water on the property!
Thank you Ghostsniper for the article on Dreams. Fascinating.
Glad you liked Bob.
One day it will be common knowledge that dreams are who we really are, and what we think we are living each day is really a dream. Let that roll around for a spell.
signed
Gary Wright