“Happy”

25 05 2014

Your Blogmeister’s Desk

I hate it when people wish me a “happy” Memorial Day weekend.

It’s not a joyous occasion, assholes.

This one tomorrow is going to be a bit hard on me, too.  For now, starting this M/D, I have two uncles to visit at JB, not just one.





VA WTF?

22 05 2014

Your Blogmeister’s Desk

Timing couldn’t be better for this.

Got a piece of snail mail from the VA today addressed to your snarky blogmeister.  The letter thanked me for my service, then proceeded to inform me that medical care provided for the VA complies with the Affor-DUH-Bull Care Act, aka ObamaDontCare.  It also included a color booklet along the same lines, with the personal narratives of various people, they were all suggestively either black or Hispanic, about the great care the VA provides, and along with that a paper application for VA medical benefits and a BRM to send it in.

There’s just one little problem.

I’m not a vet.

So why does the VA think I am?

Which leads me to my next question:  If this non-vet got this mailing, then it’s likely that other non-vets got it, too.  Is the VA on the sly trying to get non-vets to sign up for VA health coverage, maybe to goose up the number of people on it to create a political buffer against eliminating it, considering the current VA scandal?





Yellow Ribbon

7 05 2014

Your Blogmeister’s Hotel Room

By the time this day is over, I’ll finally be home.  The legislative session ends in nine days, and the firm thinks there’s no further use for us to stick around.

I’d call my first state legislative session as a public relations and lobbyist hack/parasite to be moderately successful in terms of what I’m paid to do, but disappointing in terms of what I wish I could convince people to do on the side.

It has been a grind, far more mentally than physically.  Nevertheless, I will have the rest of this week and the weekend to recover, and I intend to catch up on a lot of lost sleep.  Next week, we’ll lick our wounds, then since it’s an election year, we’ll wait for whichever candidates and whatever groups pushing for or against ballot issues wants to hire my firm.

And as for Jefferson City, I’ll see you in September, for the special legislative session.





Ugh

31 03 2014

Your Blogmeister’s Breakfast Table

Thirty-seven.

It’s a prime number.

And a completely legally and socially meaningless one.

Thirty-one is also a prime number, but it’s also the minimum age to be the Governor of Kentucky.





It’s Over

19 03 2014

Your Blogmeister’s Hotel Room

Obama and I have the same Final Four.

Where do I go to turn in my right wing extremist card?





Having a Good Hateful Morning

3 02 2014

Your Blogmeister’s Hotel Room

Must be the hotel orange juice.

Some good useful comments of mine for your pleasure.

Here, here, here, here, here, here and here.

As you probably know, I’m “Question Diversity” on Disqus-based comments and “countenanceqd” on PJMedia/Instapundit.

UPDATE

Let’s top off the cake with some Twitter icing, courtesy of the snarkiest bastard on Twitter (hence, the #SBOT hashtag).





Inner Geek, Part II

6 01 2014

Your Blogmeister’s Desk

Dew points were as low as -20 mid-morning, and that was a once in a several decade opportunity to do some more daytime AM DXing, the best I’ve been able to do so far and probably the best I’ll be able to do for quite some time.

The only new stations that I nabbed in addition to what I got on Christmas Eve were KWMT, 540 AM, Fort Dodge, Iowa and WLW, 700 AM, in Cincinnati, the first time I’ve ever been able to hear WLW during the day.  Both of my DX friendly radios have very good adjacent channel resistance, good thing because both stations have very strong local side channels in KTRS and KSTL.

I really wanted to get WTMJ, 620, Milwaukee, but no dice.  That doesn’t surprise me — Even though it’s a low dial spot and 50kw during the day, it’s directionally aimed to the north along the coast of Lake Michigan toward Green Bay.  As it is, I barely have WTMJ logged as a nighttime catch; they only run 10kw at night.

Other than that, all my rare DX nabs from Christmas Eve were stronger, which is to be expected when the dew point is -15 to -20 instead of -5 to 0.





Good Riddance Syne

31 12 2013

Your Blogmeister’s Desk

Like I said a few days ago, 2013 was a year I merely survived, and it was only a good year in that it wasn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be when it began.  Still, 2013′s island in my personal archipelago of last years is one I won’t visit very often.

On the other hand, 2014 could be a really good year for me personally.  Maybe one of my best years.





Red Rubber Ball

26 12 2013

Your Blogmeister’s Desk

I survived 2013.

After the way the latter part of 2012 turned out for me, I was dreading last Christmas season ending, because I figured on having to deal with a big bout of depression in the early months of 2013, and in fact, I was thinking it was going to be an overall disaster of a year for myself personally.

If I would have known at the start of this year that my favorite uncle would die during the summer, I would have been certain that I was going to melt down and fall apart.

And yet, here I am, still in one piece, still compos mentis, and my professional life is back on track.  I know myself better than anyone I know, (even though my mother disagrees with that), but I’m scratching my head trying to figure out how I didn’t melt down in 2013.  As it is, 2014 is going to be way too busy for me to care about that kind of stuff anymore.

I might be naive in thinking this, but I now think that no matter how bad things get, if I can find a way to stay upright and on two feet, things will eventually work out at least okay.





I Know, My Inner Geek Is Showing

24 12 2013

Your Blogmeister’s Desk

Dew points were below zero all day long.  If you’re an AM DXer around here and didn’t take advantage of the conditions to try to nab some rare daytime AM DX, then that’s your tough luck.

Here are my unique results for today.  I won’t be listing any of my usual DX suspects unless I got unusually good reception today on any one of them.  My DX machines are the CCRadio 2 (soon to be replaced by the 2E) and a PR-D5, both using only their internal ferrite bar antennas.  The numbers in this list are the “R” in RST codes.

560:  KWTO, Springfield, MO.  2.
570:  WKYX, Paducah, KY.  3.
580:  WILL, Champaign-Urbana, IL.  2.
600:  WMT, Cedar Rapids, IA.  2.
610:  KCSP, Kansas City.  3.
640:  WCRV, Memphis.  3.
650:  WSM, Nashville.  2.
710:  KCMO, Kansas City.  2.
740:  WVLN, Olney, IL.  3.
750:  KBNN, Lebanon, MO.  2.
790:  WMC, Memphis.  2.
810:  WHB, Kansas City.  2.
900:  KFAL, Fulton, MO.  3.
1020:  WCIL, Carbondale, IL.  3.
1040:  WHO, Des Moines, IA.  2.
1050:  WDZ, Decatur, IL.  2.
1150:  WGGH, Marion, IL.  3.
1210:  WILY, Centralia, IL.  2.
1220:  KLPW, Union, MO.  3.
1280:  KYRO, Troy, MO.  2.
1350:  KWMO, Washington, MO.  3.
1520:  KRHW, Sikeston, MO.  2.
1540:  WSMI, Litchfield, IL.  2.
1550:  KAPE, Cape Girardeau, MO.  2.





Cats Have a Staff

9 10 2013

Your Blogmeister’s Hotel Room

My mother called me just a short time ago.

Do you know that just a few weeks ago, she went out and bought a new mattress and box spring, $800 on sale, solely for the benefit of her cat?  Yet, somehow, she, my mother, somehow expects to sleep on the thing every night.

That’s just it — Cats are gracious enough to let us serve them, and how do we repay them?  By having the ingratitude to want to use their furniture that we’re paying for.

Anyway, her cat scammed her out of bed this morning by meowing constantly as if he was hungry, when she forgot she fed him earlier in the morning then went back to bed.  Well, not remembering that, she went out of bed to go to the kitchen to feed him, remembered that she did, and when she went back to her bed, boom, there was his majesty, lying down and getting ready to sleep smack dab in the middle of the bed.

“Mom, he was trying to tell you to get off of his bed.”





The Summer That Was

2 09 2013

Somewhere in South Central Missouri

This weekend was the reading of my late uncle’s will, at a law office in the biggest town in the county where he retired.  I took the opportunity to spend a one last weekend at his retirement property, which will be sold and the proceeds distributed to his named heirs, me included, in percentages.

Here are two pretty new songs that sum up my feelings pretty well.  While the first one isn’t an exact lyrical summary of his life, it’s as close as any commercial song will get.  As far as the second one, well, yes, I did drive his truck this weekend as a coping mechanism.  Appropriately enough, like the truck you see in the video, it was/is a sixth generation Ford F-Series, only his was/is a slightly different color.

So ends the summer that was.  I won’t soon forget this one.





Trapper Keeper

17 08 2013

 

 

The ’80s.  Yeah, I remember ‘em.

Though none of my Trapper Keepers ever helped me with the opposite sex.  I get the feeling now that my problem therein was more systemic, not acute.

My last TK was 7th grade.  I didn’t want or get one the next school year; my spidey sense was telling me they were going out of style.  And from the lack of TKs my 8th grade classmates had compared to 7th, my spidey sense was right on the mark.

I bet today the TKs wouldn’t be allowed in schools because the sharp pointed plastic sliding rings could be used or construed as weapons.  Don’t laugh — Remember the pop tart?





Augustus’s Ember

1 08 2013

Your Blogmeister’s Desk

I finished July a very different person from what I was when I started July.

Meanwhile, July 2013 was the second highest traffic month for this blog in its history, second only to July 2012.





It’s All Over and the Crying

26 07 2013

Your Blogmeister’s Desk

I suggested earlier this week that because of the circumstances, this week would be a light posting week here.  Well, it has been anything but, mainly because in between the duties and obligations of the week, I threw myself into blogging as a distraction and to keep my composure.  Though I have deliberately ignored AR all this week, mainly because I know I’m addicted to it, and it’s time consuming.  My online time was really limited this week, and I have used to almost strictly for news gathering and blogging.

Like I said on Monday, the visitation was Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday and the funeral was earlier today.  The hardest day for me was actually Wednesday, because it was an open casket, and before I left the funeral home that evening, I knew I was looking at my uncle’s Earthly vessel for one last time.  We all exited the room and left the final look to his only daughter.  Today was difficult, too, because it was the actual funeral, but the harder part of the day was the wake held at my other uncle’s house, and the hardest part of that was the time period when those who came to the wake one by one or small group by small group said goodbye and left.  The last of us to leave were his remaining siblings, save my other uncle who actually lives there, and us first cousins.

It occurred to me as I was getting in my car to drive away that now, this moment, was the start of the rest of my life, which, by now, has about equal parts behind me and ahead of me.  Sure, I’ve been to many funerals before, but this is the one so far that I’ve taken the hardest.  The late spring and summer I was 17 years old, that being 1994, all of 19 years ago now, I attended eight funerals for relatives and friends and family friends who might as well have been relatives.  It occurred to me then that this was in a way the end of my childhood and the start of my young adulthood.  The deaths and funerals weren’t the only feature of my life’s metamorphosis that summer; some other things happened to me in that verve, not the least of which my politics and worldview began to mature and harden.  But I was a different person on September 1, 1994 than I was on May 1, 1994, so much so that the me of what was the last full day of my older uncle’s life, July 18, 2013 was much more like the me of September 1, 1994 than the me of September 1, 1994 was like the me of May 1, 1994.

This one funeral of the first natural circumstances passing of the generation of my family immediately preceding mine, means that my young adulthood is over and now middle age is really starting to kick in.  It might be a coincidence, but I start a new job on Monday morning, driving the “start of the rest of my life” personal theme home even more boldly.  The new job just might be another job, or it might finally be what launches me.

Now, if you’ll pardon me, I have some crying to do, then after that I have a diem to carpe.





Left Brain Versus Right Brain

22 07 2013

Your Blogmeister’s Desk

You say something, then something happens eerily coincidental to what you said, and then you’re left wondering for the rest of time whether it was just a coincidence or if you tempted fate and fate won.

This week is a week I had off between my being replaced at my old job and starting my new job next Monday.  I wanted to spend it with my uncle in rural south central Missouri.  Yes, it’s the uncle of the SLFD/Pruitt-Igoe fame that I have mentioned a few times on here and recently at OD and SBPDL when they virtually screened Myth.  I asked my mother if she wanted to come along but she said no, but then I told her just off the cuff that whenever I get any sort of extended time off like this, I want to spend it with the uncle in question, like I did for about a week and a half back in April of last year before I started in on the Todd Akin campaign.  I told my mother that the reason I want to do this is because I always worry that this time I spend with him down in the country would be the last.

I got a phone call from my other and younger uncle mid-morning on Friday.

Aside from the grief I’m feeling right now, the neurotic paranoid left half of my brain is telling me that I tempted fate and killed him.  The logical right side of my brain is trying to save the day by telling me that 83-year old men die of natural causes slash their number being up practically every day.  That’s nothing compared to what my mother and the younger uncle I just mentioned are going through — They’re absolutely freaking out.  And I know why, too — Nobody needs to tell me, I already know why implicitly, because it’s something that’s not lost on me.  He’s the first member of my mother’s brood of siblings to die, and die of his number being up.  Sure, he had scares earlier in his life, (including but not limited to the Pruitt-Igoes), and my mother and younger uncle also had near-death medical scares.  My aunt, a bit older than the uncle that just departed but still living herself (84), never really had a scare per se;  she salami sliced her way to skating with death one drink at a time.  She’s aware of things around here but out of it for all intents and purposes, but she does know that one of her younger brothers just died.  Meanwhile, my mother (68) and younger uncle (66) are beside themselves because they are now suddenly all the more cognizant of their own mortality, and that for both of them, far more of their lives are behind them instead of ahead of them.  It’s not lost on me, either, that the first of my parents’ generation has now departed for natural causes.  I am the youngest grandchild of both my maternal and paternal grandparents, which means that every natural first cousin of mine is older than I am.  The bookends as far as age goes in that generation are 36 and twins of 61, with 37, 42, 53 and 59 in between.  Let me put it to you this way — Time’s not moving in the opposite direction, and certainly not for me.  The oldest of my grandparents’ grandchildren are almost ready for Social Security, and yours truly the youngest is just about in middle age, and really hasn’t accomplished much noteworthy.

Which means I better hurry up and accomplish something before I’m the one lying dead in a box.

Visitation is today, tomorrow and Wednesday and the funeral is Friday at JB.





Practice Will Make Perfect

5 07 2013

France

Slashdot:

Tech Companies Looking Into Sarcasm Detection

“Now here’s the greatest thing ever: French tech firm Spotter has apparently devised an analytics platform capable of identifying sarcastic comments, according to the BBC. Spotter’s platform scans social media and other sources to create reputation reports for clients such as the EU Commission and Air France. As with most analytics packages that determine popular sentiment, the software parses semantics, heuristics and linguistics. However, automated data-analytics systems often have a difficult time with some of the more nuanced elements of human speech, such as sarcasm and irony — an issue that Spotter has apparently overcome to some degree, although company executives admit that their solution isn’t perfect. (Duh.) Spotter isn’t alone: IBM, Salesforce, and other IT vendors are hard at work on analytics software that can more perfectly determine when you’re mouthing off, you little punks. In theory, sarcasm detection can help with customer service, and judging how well products are doing on the open market… and we all know it’s going to work perfectly, right? Nothing could possibly go wrong with automated platforms built to assess the nuances of human speech.”

All I can say is that there are more than 12,000 posts on this blog, and I don’t plan on dying or quitting blogging anytime soon, so I’ll have plenty more of quality snark to come here in this medium.  I can be of service helping Spotter perfect its sarcasm detector disgronificator.





It’s Independence Day

3 07 2013

Your Blogmeister’s Desk

My particular geotag for this post of “Your Blogmeister’s Desk” is apropos.  Because I’m about to gain an extra desk.

My long night of despair is over.

Beginning August 1, maybe sooner if certain things can be arranged, I start a new job.  I will be working for a St. Louis firm that combos in public relations and political lobbying.

Those of you know know me, I’ll tell you ASAP that which is not for public consumption.





Eagle Has Landed

13 05 2013

Your Blogmeister’s Desk

Last night, I dreamt I eagled a hard Par 4 at what seemed to be a championship golf course.

Yet, the real world version of me has ever played a round of golf in my life.

Someone tell me what this means.





Deja Vu

11 05 2013

Your Blogmeister’s Desk

Why does this Richwine/Heritage NON-troversy seem so familiar to me?

And why do I think that Heritage really screwed its own pooch by firing Richwine?  (Yeah, I know, “quit.”  Quit, schmidt.)  Why do I think I’ve also seen THAT before?





I Was Dreaming of a White Christmas, Not a White Palm Sunday

26 03 2013

white-palm-sunday

It was according to the Lambert weather measuring station, which is the official reading for St. Louis, the largest ever one day March snowfall and the second-largest one day snowfall since it started taking records.  I would presume the largest was the famous 1982 blizzard.

I got 9.5 inches in Ballwin, my mother in South City only got 7 inches.  Meanwhile, back in ’82, while the official Lambert reading was something like 15 inches, it seems to me (and my mother confirms) that around our house there was close to two feet.





She Has Her Beans to Spill

21 03 2013

And I’ve got mine. Remember, I have not yet spilled the biggest bag.

Yeah, I heard.  Claire McCaskill is writing a tell all about 2012, blah blah blah.  I almost literally have 87 different calls, e-mails and text messages from people telling me so.  Ordinarily, I would ignore, but because of the subject matter and who you know she’ll spend most of the book talking about, and because of who I am (or was) in relation to that subject matter, I guess I’m going to be semi-obliged to read the damned thing.

If that link is any indication, she’s giving herself all the credit for our primary win.  Yes, she can take a little bit of it, but she can’t take all of it.  See?  I’ve already debunked one distortion in her book before she even started writing it.

And also…will she be nice enough to use the occasion of this book to answer these questions for me and the world — From what I hear, there was more open verbal vituperative and personal hate directed at her by the women on her own staff than there was from everyone in our camp, Steelman’s camp and Brunner’s camp combined.  One, is that true, and two, why?





For You, Norm

12 03 2013

Drudge Report

Shout out to this blog’s most frequent commenter so far this year, Puggg.

Front of Drudge Report as I write this:

drudge-pug





Extremely Good

16 02 2013

Your Blogmeister’s Phone

My phone woke me up overnight.  When that happens, it’s either extremely bad or extremely good news, usually bad.  But the Caller ID was from a local but unrecognizable number, so I didn’t answer.  After two more calls from this same number, I shut my phone off.

I just now looked at my phone, to see that that number called me nine freakin’ times in total within a 90-minute time span overnight, and five of those times, the caller left a message.  Turns out some black woman was hysterically trying to get in touch with “Laquisha,” because “Dontrell got hisself awwested and wocked up.”  This caller apparently needed “Laquisha’s” help to hustle up the bail money.

Like I said, my phone ringing overnight is usually extremely bad news.  But this time, it was some extremely good news.  Even better if Dontrell has to stay in jail for awhile.





I Just Go Nuts on Twitter

12 01 2013

Twitter

I really flipped my lid over the trillion dollar coin (and a few other things) on Twitter last night.  Newer tweets come first, so scroll down to up for a forward moving timeline.

***

@firedogledford I know the anger you feel. Would a nice shiny trillion dollar coin calm you down any? (From me to @firedogledford)

@countenanceblog I don’t know about a race war. But I would love to bust a cap on Farrakahn’s ass!  (From @firedogledford to me)

Was I too harsh on the trillion dollar coin tonight?

The sad part? The trillion dollar coin doesn’t even pay for 10% of B.R.A.

@countenanceblog Nah-even strippers will know it’s not worth the platinum from which it is minted. (From @BelleauWould to me)

They talk about making it rain in a strip club? Spin a trillion dollar coin ’round the ole stripper pole, and watch pandemonium break out.

“16 of them MoFos, and you got, like, the whole debt paid off, d00d.” #SBOT

“A trillion dollar coin saved is a trillion dollar coin earned.” — Ben Franklin XVI #SBOT

See a trillion dollar coin, pick it up, all day long, you’ll have good luck. #SBOT

With a trillion dollar coin, the only town you can really go to is Harare, Zimbabwe. #SBOT

You can tell I’m really going to town with this $1 trillion coin nuttiness. (While it’s still worth something, I could buy the town.)

@usa67us Or hope? (From me to @usa67us)

@countenanceblog Can you imagine asking for change? (From @usa67us to me)

What if I wanted to use the trillion dollar coin to buy 30-round ammo clips? #SBOT

Maybe I could look up ancient Roman history and find the version of me that was making fun of everything as everything was falling part.

Cleaning my couch. Finding paper wrappers, dried up gum, trillion dollar coins, other worthless junk. #SBOT

I’m waiting for the first news story of a bank robber that expects to bag a $1 trillion coin but doesn’t, then goes bonkers.

Seriously, you know how much medicinal marijuana a $1 trillion coin would buy? Like, a whole lot, d00d. #SBOT

Then again, I’m sure Starbucks can’t wait for trillion dollar coins to get circulating so it can start vending machines. #SBOT

Don’t tell Rahm about the trillion dollar coin – Chicago parking meters are expensive enough already. #SBOT

Someone stole the trillion dollar coin and put it in a Salvation Army red kettle. #SBOT

I’m trying to figure out who’s the bigger gossip bottom feeder: X17 or Perez Hilton. (Not who has the bigger bottom.) #SBOT

Who names their magazine “GOOP?” Probably some dumbass actress. #SBOT

“Justin Bieber punched me!” Oh yeah, like anyone with a brain would believe that. #SBOT

Even the new Rolls-Royces look like pregnant roller skates.

Chamber Pot of Commerce wants immigration amnesty + more gun control. What could possibly go wrong?

I’m not worried about people spreading nasty rumors about me on Twitter, I’m worried about worse, that they’re spreading the truth. #SBOT

***





Missing the Forest for the Sapling

27 12 2012

Your Blogmeister’s Desk

My reaction at first when the “Deport Piers Morgan” petitions started was this:

I didn’t know enough people were watching him to know what he was doing. I’m kinda disappointed that they’re only giving this nut a whiff of publicity. All he’s going to do now is say stuff that’s nuttier than what he said the night before, because now he knows what works to drive ratings. Leave the sleeping dog with no ratings lie on his network with no ratings, and he’s no threat to anyone and no threat to any article of the Bill of Rights. But import a kajillion Constitution-hating gibsmedat Hispanics, to join forces with our own kajillion-strong long time domestic gibsmedat obsolete bipedal farm equipment, and you might as well burn the whole Bill of Rights.  Some of the same people signing the “deport the limey nut” petition ignore the racial tidal wave in front of their own faces.

I’d like to fashion myself as someone who is keen on noticing and in earnest not rewarding purely publicity seeking behavior. So much political rhetoric these days is nothing more than shock value nut talk just to drive ratings and hit counters and ad cards that I can’t stand it anymore. It’s like American political discourse is becoming one spoiled petulant brat after another after another screaming louder and louder just to garner attention. One fool professor is calling to execute people who doubt global warming, for example. It’s not that he actually wants that to happen, it’s just that he wants to say something provocative to become a minor celebrity.  A certain and never-to-be-named-again-on-this-blog black sports columnist whose home paper is the Kansas City Star was once reasonable, but nobody was paying attention to him when he was reasonable.  He gets on board the nut express with “NRA = KKK,” and he becomes an instant celebrity.  You don’t think that a lot of other people are getting the message from that, loudly and clearly?   Even the New York Times is getting in on this circus of pure nut talk for shock value, especially on its ad-dependent website.

And I will agree with RJP when he eventually comments here that the financial media, (hint:  CNBC) are just as bad.

Jared Taylor writes White Identity, full of facts, free of factual and logical errors, and with language and prose indicative of someone who holds an Ivy League graduate degree back in the days when that actually meant something? Most of the world ignores. He might as well have screamed it from Antarctica rather than had it printed on paper. And poor Sam Francis, this coming February will be eight years without him — From what I see, it’s as if he never existed.

What I’m trying to do now is find reasonable rational diamond-in-the-rough kinds of sources, because I want to try to factor the shock value nut talk out of my life as much as possible and factor in people who can think and reason their way out of paper bags.  Another thing I’m trying to do is pay less and less attention to the kind of people and sources who pay inordinate attention to shock value nut talk and thereby allow that paradigm to work.





Isle of 2012

26 12 2012

Your Blogmeister’s Desk

I vaguely remember one year from my childhood that there was, during the week between Christmas and the New Year, a claymation follow-up to the Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer claymation usually aired early in December, and usually on CBS.  The premise of the New Year’s-themed follow-up is that Rudolph has to run right back out after pulling Santa’s sleigh in order to find a missing brat, who has to be installed in some chair for the new year officially to arrive.  Burl Ives narrated the original show, but I don’t seem to remember that it was he who narrated the New Years version.

In his search, Rudolph has to go to some sea full of islands indicative of a year already passed.

If there were such an archipelago, nobody would ever visit 2012′s island, because it would be nothing but “Call Me Maybe” parodies, “Whoopa Gangnam Style” parodies, “Hitler finds out” videos, Adele’s six Grammies, Justin Bieber gossip, the very last Stanley Cup winner, and Mayan calendars.  Even though, seriously, there are serious analysts and experts saying that 2012 was one of the very best years ever for humanity in general.

I doubt I would much much visit my own personal 2012 island, and the only reason I might wax a little nostalgic for 2012 from time to time is because I think 2013 will be even worse for me.

Then again, one of the major themes that will hit us in the face early in 2013 will be:  Hitler finds out that “Call Me Maybe” and “Whoopa Gangnam Style” parodies have gone out of fashion.





What Do I Really Want Out of Life?

18 12 2012

Your Blogmeister’s Desk

I’m having to start to look myself in the mirror and ask myself some hard and tough questions, because my coping mechanisms which have held me together after November 6 are starting to fall apart.

To answer the question that serves as the title of this post:

1.  The Presidency, stat.  I should be President-Elect right now, filling out my cabinet, with, among other things, Jared Taylor as Secretary of State, Paul Craig Roberts at Treasury, Ken Cuccinelli as Attorney General, Joe Arpaio at HLS, Ann Barnhardt somewhere, William “Doc” Carter running the RNC for me (*), RJP somewhere, Steve Sailer, Unamusement Park, Paul Kersey (SBPDL), Hunter Wallace and Jack Ryan (Occidental Dissent) in important roles, for starters…

2.  A multi-billion dollar personal fortune, to fund the Presidential campaign I just won and my 2016 re-election campaign, with billions and billions left to spare even after that.  Even though none of my children (see #4) will inherit a penny of it.

3.  A whole harem of white hard body supermodels as my personal concubine (but they all should have different hair colors and different eye colors).

4.  At least two sons and at least one daughter.

5.  To own and live in this house besides the White House.

6.  An Audi R8, which of course you know is a personal desire — But from what I hear, they need to do a little work on the transmission, and the convertible version of the R8 needs to be a hardtop which looks like the non-convertible when it’s closed.

If I could just get the money, I get the feeling that everything else would take care of itself, i.e. I could buy everything else on the list.  Misogynist — Who, me?  Dopey me, it’s kinda hard to “buy” women that are already rich because they’re ultra-hot supermodels.

Really, I know I’m being facetious.  But I also know straight up that I could be doing a lot better and I should be a lot further along in life than I am.  I’m going to finish this year worse than what I started, even though I thought my ticket to ride was punched on the night of August 7.

(*) — I don’t blame you for not knowing who William “Doc” Carter is.  A chiropractor by trade, he ran David Duke’s 1990 and 1991 statewide campaigns in Louisiana for Senate and Governor, respectively, and Pat Buchanan’s 1992 and 1996 Presidential campaign statewide operations in South Carolina.  He’s a more “me-y” version of me, twice as smart at least.





When You Boil a Frog in Ointment

12 12 2012

Your Blogmeister’s Desk

Like many days, my mother called me late today to chit-chat about what she did today.  Usually, I’ll let it go in one ear and out the other, but she had something interesting to say today.

Not long after I was born, anticipating that I would suffer from diaper rash, she bought a pound jar of something called “A&D Ointment.”  Of course I did, but I didn’t suffer it so often that she had to use up that whole jar before I got potty trained.  Long after I was, she found that the stuff was effective for rashes and burns and cuts and scrapes other than what comes from a diaper.  I know she had that jar for a very long time, and today she told me that the jar finally ran empty more than a month ago.  The stuff was still effective and didn’t lose its texture even being 35 years old — I’m convinced that in a Life After People (TM), A&D Ointment might last thousands of years.

She bought the bottle in April 1977 at K-Mart, the dominant big box of the day, for $2.99.  I know that, because nobody ever peeled off the K-Mart price label indicating the store and the price.

She bought a new bottle, again, a pound-weight plastic container, today, from Target, a very similar big box retailer.  Guess how much it cost.

$10.19.

You might think Wal-Martinez is significantly cheaper for their volume buying, but as it turns out, their website charges $10.17, and so is probably the case in their stores.

Do a little division.  1,017 cents divided by 299 cents = 3.4.  Do you think the average person of December 2012 is making 3.4 times more in real dollar take-home pay than the average person of April 1977?  I highly doubt it.





We All Want the Same Things

7 12 2012

Your Blogmeister’s Desk

I’m going to use the occasion of this blog post to archive what I think are two very important comments I made to AR back in April.

“Blessed,” a black troll, wrote:

Replying to white_privilege_stigmata:   I think that you have some sort of problem!!!!! Usually haters just post once and go on the something else. But you stayed and had to comment again. Speaking as a black person living in American, I only want the same things that anyone else I know wants. The house, two cars, good job, 2.5 kids and happiness. If you are look for something or someone to hate.

I (“Question Diversity”) respond at first:

“We all want the same things.”

Sure, we all want the same things.  But is that supposed to be some sort of accomplishment, or more, a form of intelligence? Wanting it all isn’t an achievement, it’s a consequence of being human and having at least a room temperature IQ.  Every person on Earth has a theoretically infinite set of desired tangible and intangible goods, services and social conditions.  The discipline of economics was established to quantify and qualify how people and societies reconcile these infinite desires that everyone has with a finite set of resources.

Therefore, it’s true that everyone wants the same things, that being everything.  But that does not mean that:

(A) The races are equal

(B) Any one individual is equal to another

(C) Creating a set of circumstances where everyone has virtually the same resource set is feasible or desirable

(D) We all deserve everything we want, or an equal set of stuff to someone else in the individual or the collective

(E) One will get the things one wants just as a virtue of wanting them.

(F) Just the act of “wanting” something is morally equal to or tantamount to engaging in the behavior and actions of people that have something you don’t but want did in order to get.

I better stop there before I run out of letters.

I have heard a lot of blacks, and white liberals, and a fair number of white conservatives, genuflect to this faux egalitarian mentality, by saying that blacks “want safe streets.”  Of course, they say they want safe streets, but far too many belie their wishes through their actions.  When you say you “want safe streets” with your mouth and then commit murder and robbery with your hands, then you’re not going to have safe streets, and it also means you’re not equal to the people who both say they want safe streets and resist the urge to murder and rob, simply because your wish for safe streets is equal to theirs.

Later, I add:

Let me give you a practical application of my own axiom.

I want an Audi R8.  There are a lot of people who want an Audi R8.  But for various reasons, there are only a small number of Audi R8s to be had.  Therefore, there is a high barrier to acquiring an R8.

It is true that there are people who have an Audi R8.  That is because they are worth enough to this world that they have acquired the resources to overcome the high entry barrier that was established to reconcile the high demand for R8s with the low supply.

My only relevant equality with a person who owns an Audi R8 is that we both wanted one.  But that equality is so irrelevant to the greater reality of things that it might as well not be talked about as if it were some sort of credible social barometer.  The hard truth of the matter is that in spite of my wishes, I’m just not that valuable to the world around me such that I deserve an R8.  My actions will continue to belie my desires until either Audi R8s become a lot cheaper, my marketable skills become a lot more valuable, or a combination of both.

This is an explanation that all but the most devoted of communists and anti-economists will accept.  However, a whole lot of people can’t grok the analogy between an Audi R8 and “safe streets.”

Confirm in this AR thread.

Even if Todd would have won the election, I doubt even then I’d have the income punch to buy an Audi R8.  I sure as hell can’t do it now!








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