BLOG ON SEMI-HIATUS (Sticky Post)

3 09 2018

I have left St. Louis for job in Cologne, Germany.

This blog is in a state of semi-hiatus, as of September 4, 2018.

I’ll write posts here every once in awhile, just to update you all on how I’m doing, and my thoughts on whatever big news breaks. Our favorite doggy will chime in every once in awhile with his own guest posts. Other than that, expect posting around here to be not that frequent going forward.

All my other presences.

Reading material:

My Labor Day 2018 farewell post — My final post from St. Louis for awhile, perhaps ever.

My post from July 26, 2018, announcing my departure.

The preview of my Summer 2018 travelogue that I’ll probably never get to write in full.

My long and frequently updated post on my condition and recovery — A recovery which for all intents and purposes is complete as of December 14, 2019.

I proposed on December 14, 2019, and was married on March 7, 2020.  We welcomed twin sons into the world on December 22, 2020.  You can read about how it all happened and eventually future updates in that stead on my RHOC Series.





The New Ferguson

14 04 2021

Minneapolis

The more I read, the more similarities I see between Brooklyn Center, Minnesota, and Ferguson.

Two biggies:

(1) Their racial demographics flipped relatively rapidly, in a thirty year time span

(2) In spite of that, their patrol level police officers are nearly all white at the time of their infamous police incidents as they were at the time when their population demographics were almost all white. Which is to say, the changing demographics have not yet changed the police department.

With Ferguson, as I wrote here in this space back when Ferguson became an international buzzword, blacks who want to be cops in the St. Louis area know they can get on just about anywhere, affirmative action being what it is, especially in a sensitive and politicized sector like public law enforcement, so they’re not going to pick a jurisdiction like Ferguson, where you have the worst of both worlds, relatively low pay and relatively high danger. Any other permutation of pay and danger is by definition better than Ferguson.

It appears that Brooklyn Center, Minn. might have a big enough municipal budget to pay their cops more, but I also have found out about its changed demographics. Which means it’s high danger, (as we’ve all seen within the last few days), and I’m sure that there are departments in the MSTP area that pay better than BC and are of lower danger.





Local Election Day Open Thread.

7 04 2021

Guest post by Puggg

Just in case any of you are interested in chewing the fat about what happened yesterday. The most important news coming out of the St. Louis area is of course the city, with Tish Jones winning, and what that will mean for the SLMPD, the two jails in the city, and crime.





An Open Thread While I Have the Chance.

3 04 2021

Guest post by Puggg

Well, yesterday was the crucifixion, and tomorrow will be the resurrection. So while we’re in a holding pattern today, I’ll put up an open thread.





The First Four After the First Forty

31 03 2021

They were four years I could have never predicted. Back there on my fortieth birthday, you couldn’t have paid me enough to predict accurately the next ten percent of my life. Especially since at that time, I was whining like a bitch about turning forty.

And yet, when it comes to birthdays, March 31 suddenly doesn’t matter that much to me anymore, maybe except for the zeroes and fives. Nowadays, December 22 matters to me a lot more, and I better not ever forget May 2.





Never Be Captain Save a Ho.

30 03 2021

Guest post by Puggg

That’s what this neighbor thought he was doing. But whenever any guy tries it, he just creates more problems (especially for himself) than he solves.





The Yellow Panic of 2021, Explained

22 03 2021

Atlanta

I’ll cut to the chase. There are I think three really big things going on here:

(1) Because most anti-Asian violence is at the hands of the black undertow, and at that, it’s not hate or enmity driven criminality literally speaking, it’s just a matter of predators picking on actual or perceived conveniently proximate and available weak and easy prey, (hint: blacks and Asians both tend to live in urban centers), the left wing is trying to prevent open warfare between blacks and Asians from popping up underneath its coalition of the fringes big tent. Which has been threatening to bust wide open for other recent causes, including:

(2) This is also a subtle maneuver to try to get Asian lobbies and organizations to stop filing lawsuits against universities and institutions against their affirmative action and DEI schemes.

(3) The establishment is trying its best to dampen any official energy behind blaming Beijing and the CCP for the Wuhan virus, so as to prevent economic retaliation and decoupling, and any such actions of course would force Beijing to reciprocate. It’s because too many “important” Americans are too invested in China.

I’ll leave you with an interesting piece of irony: Many of the very same people and the same ilk of people so worried about anti-Asian violence all of a sudden do not classify Asian employees of CSIT/STEM firms and Asian students at elite schools as diverse. “White adjacent” is the fashionable social justice-y term.





Roy Blunt’s Retirement

9 03 2021

Jefferson City; Washington, D.C.

Missouri is now solidly a red state, and 2022 looks to be a red year.

In the last few weeks, I’ve seen out of the corner of my eye in my feed reader about several announced or floated primary challengers, one of the speculated names was Eric Greitens.

Add it all up, and I think the reason Blunt is retiring isn’t because he fears he would lose in November 2022, it’s because he fears he will not win in August 2022. There must be internal polling data out there showing that his winning the Republican primary isn’t a sure thing.

Because 2022 is the mid-term for all Missouri statewide office holders other than the auditor, I expect at least two of them to try, because they won’t have to give up their current offices to do so.





Everything You Wanted to Know About Young White Men (But Were Afraid to Ask)

8 03 2021

Plano, Texas

You’ve all heard by now. Because it’s international news, as I can attest.

For all of you non-white people reading this, before you go on the warpath, there’s something you have to understand about young white men, and I’m writing this as someone for whom the young part used to be true:

For us, the TV show “Jackass” isn’t just a TV show. It’s a way of life.

We just play too damned much.

I think that all that happened with SeMarion here is that this means he has been accepted into his circle of white friends. Another way to think of this is that it’s akin to pledging a fraternity.





Mike Brown Sr.’s Begging.

6 03 2021

Guest post by Puggg

I’m sure most of you have heard the news and story by now.

I just don’t understand why so many people are so sympathetic to Brown Sr. and his cronies over BLM. To me, neither group deserves anything but our equal scorn. Because to me, Brown Sr. and his cronies are the same kind of grifters that BLM are. All Brown Sr. and his cronies are complaining about is that BLM is grifting better than they are, and they want to grift off the more successful grifters.





Street Louis.

5 03 2021

Guest post by Puggg

Hey, how’d you all around here like getting woke up at 4-something in the morning with that Amber Alert on your phones? The automated voice said “Street Louis County Police”. It’s because it can’t tell the difference between St. meaning Saint and meaning Street. And they expect that kind of tech to drive our cars for us.

Here’s what led up to it.





I Didn’t Either.

2 03 2021

Guest post by Puggg

Did you know that there’s an election for mayor in St. Louis today? I didn’t either.

Did you care that there’s an election for mayor in St. Louis today? I didn’t either.

I’ll leave this open thread on the matter for the few of you that might.





Real Housewives of Cologne, Episode 12

1 03 2021

“DEVIL DOES CARE”

I knew the comedown in 2021 would be swift, hard and severe. But I never thought it would be this.

You all know by now what it was and how soon it happened.

I was in a state of shell shock for about a month and a half. During the better part of that time, I’ve been running on autopilot, living a perfunctory, pro forma existence.

The one human being in life, that was for me, a constant, and pervasive, to one degree or another, in the entirety of the forty-three and three-quarter years that we were both alive at the same time, is now gone.

***

All the happy events in my personal life in the 391 days from December 14, 2019 to January 7, 2021 made me blind myself to all sorts of reality. Not only with regards to everything that was going on in the world, but also, as it turned out, with regards to my mother’s condition.

I know that dementia do what it do, and it only do one thing in one direction. But her condition stabilized in the last two months or so of Frau.’s pregnancy. I was thinking that maybe just maybe that it would stabilize such that she would live long enough and have enough cognitive competence to be able to see her own grandsons and understand what she is seeing when I inevitably take Frau. to visit my native city — If I had any hesitation and any ability to turn back Frau.’s lobbying in that stead, that’s all wiped away now — I’ll have to go back at least one more time for closure. Though even before this, that would not have been able to happen until at least the summer of 2023. And now, there is obviously no great urgency insofar as a time frame and no reason to hurry up for my mother’s sake.

On the evening after the afternoon I got The Call, I suddenly realized that it was just a matter of her willing herself to hang on long enough to be on this Earth when her first grandchildren arrived, and to see them virtually. Immediately after, reality reasserted itself. It’s why both Thomas Jefferson and John Adams died on the semicentennial date of the signing of the Declaration of Independence — Not because it was “a visible and palpable remarks of Divine Favor,” but because they made it close enough to the anniversary, and willed themselves across the finish line, then collapsed. Likewise, my mother probably would have passed on months ago but for. I guess that’s the fortunate thing, because it could have well been the case that Frau. and I decided to wait a bit longer to try to have children, which means she wouldn’t have been pregnant at all in 2020, which in turn means my mother would have had no reason to will herself to a few more months of life, and she would have passed on, e.g., while we were on our honeymoon, which would have ruined our honeymoon definitely for me and well enough for Frau.

Through 2020, Frau. and I were Den Teufel wird es vielleicht interessieren. Except the devil actually does care.

***

I’ll never forget how I got The Call.

It was not long after 5 PM my time, Friday, January 8, (what a way to start a weekend, huh?), which means it was just after 10 AM back in St. Louis. You’ll recognize that as just one day after I found out that Frau. and I are going to be an aunt and uncle. The caller ID on my phone properly showed that it was my quasi-uncle, so I knew it had to be something that important. When I answered, he asked me if (my wife’s name) was home. She was, but I was wondering why he was asking about her, and then as soon as I got that thought out of my mind, he asked me to put her on the phone, which I did, but continued to be incredulous. He must have told her that he wanted her to hold the phone to my ear when he was going to tell me what he needed, because she immediately put the phone to my ear, and then he delivered the news. That was a good idea on his part, because I would have dropped the phone in my state of shock. Immediately after, Frau. took the phone back and talked to him in German for a few minutes, so it would seem, even though that was the start of my being in a state of shell shock to one degree or another for about a month and a half.

I’m glad he thought of that little piece of logistics.

***

I had made and paid for the final provisions quite some time back, with one major exception.

Aside from the emotional pain of it all, this was a really weird funeral to “attend,” I being the one and only next of kin, and being a whole ocean and continent away. In theory, I could have made the flights and been there physically. But it was something that was so impractical that it was impossible for all real world intents and purposes. Even disregarding how the world is still hysterical over a virus that’s only five times more lethal than the average seasonal flu. Remember, through all this, I’m also having to make a living and be the father of twin infants.

You may remember that my father passed in August 2018, and that was during that weird six week interregnum, after we returned from the journey and then me going back to take this job, my final month and a half as a St. Louisan. I was not close to my own father, and anyway he hadn’t been compos mentis for years. So, while I was just as much his next of kin as much as my mother’s, (his own wife, with whom they had no children, was also bedridden and out of it, I don’t even know if she’s still living, TBH), and I had to deal with the whole set of proceedings, all from my wheelchair, his passing was a way different deal for me emotionally. As you might remember me writing here in this space back then, his passing was not a shock to my system, and had for my sake fortuitous timing. I remember writing here that the mercy of death finally arrived.

This was anything but.

The day I knew I’d have to be delivering her eulogy, virtually, I knew would be one of the hardest days of my life. And that it was. I actually had to do it twice, the second time three days after I did it the first time. Reasons, long story. But the second time was not as hard as the first, even though what took place right after the second time made the day overall harder than the first.

The hardest part of all was not being able to be there.

There was only one thing that made all of it a little less of a living hell, and I’ll get to that in a moment.

***

As I wrote above, there was one major exception to my pre-planned final provisions. It was a loose end that I hadn’t finalized, because I’d been hoping that I wouldn’t have had to make a big decision on the matter for awhile. Circumstances forced my hand.

My mother never had any hard and fast wishes about how her earthly remains would be treated for the rest of eternity. She said that she was never keen on the idea of being six feet underground. But she also knew that the other options were either just as “bad” or untenably expensive. Ultimately, she left it all up to me. But, like I said, I didn’t even figure that part out even as late as the moment I got The Call.

Not long after she had to go into assisted living, in March 2016, realizing why she was there, and that dementia would most likely be the final diagnosis of life, someone closely affiliated to her doctors confronted me with a sensitive proposal, somehow this person got wind that what would become of her eventual earthly remains was entirely my call.

I gave it fair consideration at first, but my own life and circumstances, in one case, coming close to becoming worm food myself, and then everything that happened after that, meant that this matter quickly faded out of mind. That one phone call almost two months ago now brought it right back to the front of my mind out of necessity.

In between The Call and the final services, among everything else I had to do, I had to make this the final call. And I wound up taking up this suggestion.

Donated to medical science.

It’s because, while space is the final frontier for human exploration and settlement, the brain is the final frontier for our understanding of ourselves. Brain malfunction is what almost killed me, and is what ended my mother’s life. It’s because there are other mothers and other fathers in this world who are suffering or will soon suffer from or are genetically destined to suffer from dementia and brain degenerative conditions. If even one of them gets to have a longer more fulfilled life because of what various doctors and medical researchers will learn from having access to my late mother’s earthly remains, then I think it will be cosmically worth it. You the children and grandchildren of such people — Never thank me. Thank me by hugging and kissing your mom and dad and grandma and grandpa as often as you can.

Denn du bist Erde, und sollst zu Erde werden.

***

Mad props to Frau. and my parents-in-law, and even my sister-in-law and the soyboy-in-law in their own way, for really smoothing out the rough spots over all this time, in quite a few ways. One thing I quickly was thankful for, well, here’s a hint — “Gott sei dank, dass sie ihre anderen Großeltern haben” were the exact words I blurted out at one point during my anguish in realizing that they’ll never know their paternal grandparents, and Frau. certainly agreed. Being as their “anderen Großeltern” are only 63 and 59, barring any too-soon tragedy, they’ll be around for awhile. By comparison, my father was 82, my mother 81, when they left this world.

All five of them were there with me, and dressed appropriately for the occasion, funereally, for the final services on my virtual end, and right behind me as I delivered the eulogy. I should add that I did the second three-day-later eulogy by myself, by design — I didn’t want to have them go through all that again, even though what I found out later, indicative of what I’m about to write, meant that they would have gladly done it again.

When I finally got over my grief toward the end of February, I got to talking with my father-in-law about it. I told him that he and they didn’t have to do that, they didn’t have to be there. His response was that they did. His own words: “Deine Freude ist die gleiche wie unsere Freude, und dein Schmerz ist der gleiche wie unser Schmerz.”

He then told me something he told his oldest daughter a year ago from this coming Sunday, the morning that she was getting dressed up to get married to me. (Already a year? Tempus fugit.) As you may remember, my quasi-uncle came here to be my best man, and he bought along his own wife, his younger sister (my aunt, i.e. ex-wife of my blood uncle, the one that himself passed in June 2019), their only daughter, i.e. a first cousin of mine, she being the only actual blood relative of mine in the group, the retired pastor of my boyhood Lutheran church back in St. Louis, and our very own Puggg. I worked in the second to last into the ceremonies at close to the last minute, and Puggg as my assistant best man. Anyway, the thing which my father-in-law told me that he told his about-to-marry-me older daughter that morning, was that he noticed the relatives of mine that were here, talked to all of them, and in fact, he and my quasi-uncle became new BFFs, and yukked it up quite a bit at the wedding, though they didn’t talk much to each other until this funeral. But his words to his daughter that morning were, according to his recollection, and roughly translated into English: “His real family back in America is getting old and starting to die out. His relatives here now, this may be the last time he ever sees any of them. We are his new family now. However patient you think you have to be with him on a daily basis and through your lives together, be a little more patient than that.”

When he told me that, I knew that there was no way they weren’t going to go to this funeral. After I told him about the “encore performance” I had to do, he said that he wished I wouldn’t have kept that a secret.

I already knew that my sons had the grandpa of all time. Now I can add to it that I have the father-in-law of all time. That I genuinely do have a new family who is with me and I am with them until the end and beyond. That this city and country have truly become home in every which way of the word. Those are probably the best silver linings to these month and a half of clouds.

***

One other thing that occurred to me through all this, is that, when I am in the nursery with my sons and nobody else, in that room are the only three living descendants of both my late mother and my late father, a whole ocean away on a whole different continent, no less. Obviously their paternal grandfather passed before I even laid eyes on their mother for the first time, and their paternal grandmother passed when they were all of seventeen days old. They’ll never know them. But like I wrote above, thank God for their other set.

***

Like I said, I was living a generally perfunctory pro forma existence for awhile; the shell shock lasted way after all the scheduled proceedings were long over. Valentines Day weekend is when I started to break out of this depression. After the process of reassembling myself psychologically, I returned a call from back in St. Louis that was made to me at a point in time between The Call and the final day of the proceedings; It was one of the nurses from the assisted living facility where she spent her final almost five years of life.

That call snapped me right back to normal. In an instant, just like that.

She and I talked about her last weeks and days and hours. She said that my mother went downhill really quickly in the final nine days, (like I said, reality reasserting itself), and upon thinking about it, I realized that it was mysterious that when I tried to call my mother on Skype during those nine days, that one of the nurses who would have set up the screen in front of my mother said that she wasn’t feeling well. That should have raised a red flag in my mind — But I was on a high considering all else, and I foolishly ignored anything that smelled like bad news.

But back to the point of me snapping right back to normal, this nurse also said that, as far as she knows, my mother’s final words in life and final coherently formed words in life, spoken hours before that moment, and spoken as if she knew that her time to go was very imminent, were:

“Tell (my name) to take care of those babies.”

B-O-O-M.

Right back up on the horse.

This was hard on me, probably the hardest thing yet. But it’s also in the past. I wasn’t about to let another day go by and not be all there mentally for my now two-month old sons, who have been and are predictably growing and progressing (i.e. becoming difficult and fussy) normally and on cue. I was not and am not about to miss out on all that. I’ve got a whole rest of my life to live, a whole career that needs me to be all there especially in a year like this, a whole two little boys to mold into future world rulers, and a whole wife who needs my attention for other reasons. I’ve seen a lot in my life, but I haven’t yet seen the clock move backward.

Yes, mom, I’m gonna.

***

On September 4, 2018, the day after Labor Day, I left St. Louis from Lambert Airport, in my wheelchair, with a bunch of luggage. There, two of the people who saw me off were my mother and my younger and at the time only remaining blood uncle. Even then, I prepared myself for the possibility that it would be the last time I would ever see them or any of the others, because you never know what could happen. At the time, I never had any inclination that I would be here in Germany for more than several years. But, by the same token, you never know what could go wrong, and in that which I was commencing, there are many possibilities, and at the time there was the still lingering specter of my TBI recovery suddenly reversing. But it turned out that one thing went very right, and it was the ultimate reason why it did indeed turn out to be the case that September 4, 2018 was the last day I ever saw my mother and my younger uncle in the flesh, and why I’ll most likely live out the rest of my own life here.

On September 4, 2018, I had no clue that, within a week’s time, I would lay eyes on her for the first time.

It should be a self-evident truism that the best things in life have the steepest costs. But it takes events and circumstances like these to make one realize how intensely and consummately true it is, and that it even applies to the realm of the abstract.

I now have everything in life I ever wanted, and all it cost me was everything I knew.





Young Pharaoh and CPAC

1 03 2021

Buffalo; Orlando

Here’s another minor scandal from back in the ‘States that popped up while I wasn’t mentally all there.

Because of my Tommy Sotomayor fandom, I’ve been familiar with Young Pharaoh for much longer than most of you reading these words.

In the last six years, YP has had three major distinctly different sociopolitical Weltanschauungen. When I first became familiar with him, he was a big time problacktard simp, “the black woman is god,” yadda yadda. Then he switched to the black manosphere. And now, he’s Hotep/MAGA/Trump all the way, though I should say he’s been sort of a Hotep type all along, hence his stage name. It’s his current stop which got him invited to CPAC, at first.

Here turned out to be the problem:

Sure, people can gradually shift their outlook over a long period of time. But if you do it that quickly, then you have to figure it’s not genuine, and that YP is and has been for some time a leader in search of a cause. Complicating matters is that anyone who has espoused the three ideologies he has plus the Hotepism that has been his common denominator, is close to 100% likely to have said or written someone to earn the ire of the group of people well known for their powers of cancellation, think Shift+9 and Shift+0.

And, as I see now, that’s precisely what happened.

But to me, the big problem here isn’t with YP or the Parentheticals. It’s with CPAC. Even without YP’s Parenthetical problem, he’s still nowhere near CPAC speaker caliber. That is, if you think CPAC is still what it was before 1998. It’s just that CPAC has fallen so far, and the American Conservative Union being the typical normiecon cuckservatives, always in search of the magic negro, they’re willing to lower the bar that far such that this twenty-something mop-headed ex-con hustler can jump over it. Yes, he’s been to prison, he admitted on Tommy’s show back in 2015 that it was for armed robbery. The most disturbing part is that the only reason CPAC canceled him was because of what he said about Jews; But for that, he would have been good to go.

The Council of Conservative Citizens’ literature booth was too much for CPAC back in 1998, and we were told to scramb.





What The Hell’s Going On In This Lame Ass Club?

1 03 2021

Chicago

Okay, will someone PLEASE fill me in and get me up to speed, Cliffs Notes style, on what’s going on in our sector back in the ‘States?

I turn my head for almost two months to be depressed over my mother’s passing, and boom, everything’s going to shit.

From what I can tell from a superficial glance, it’s almost entirely a matter of either Nick Fuentes, and/or the Groypers, throwing shade, starting shit, beefing, feuding and picking fights with fill-in-the-blank from the sector.





Why Trump Won’t Run In 2024

1 03 2021

West Palm Beach, Florida

Because I’ve seen the Johann Carl Friedrich Gauss memorial and monument in Braunschweig, twice.  Because, as those of you who got the birth announcement for my twin sons know, I may be the only person on Earth who can work the term “Gaussian” in to a birth announcement, in two languages.

If it’s not unethical for you to do so, and if you can find a book that’s laying numbers on Y/N of Trump even mounting a campaign in 2024, spend some money on a no ticket.

Here’s why:

In 2024, Trump will be 78 years old. Now, 78 might only be four more than 74 in terms of arithmetic. But in Gaussian terms, 78 is way way way more than 74. Which is to say, when people get a certain age, especially overweight men, each additional year in terms of either living at all or being viable and lively becomes all the less statistically likely than the last. Remember, Trump is known for high energy, doing four rallies per day with travel. At some point pretty soon, he’ll be physically unable to do that, and I think it will hit before 2024. Either age will naturally do what it does, or he’ll have a major medical event. That’s not even counting the possibility that he won’t even be alive.

Recall that another 78-year old ran for President in 2020, and barely left his basement while doing so.

Another factor, besides the medical and physical issues, is that the hypothetical second Trump term would be when he’s between 78 and 82 years of age. As hard of a statistical slog as it is to go from 74 to 78, it will be all the more difficult to go from 78 to 82. And, considering all he went through in the first term, he may well decide that, combining everything, his likely physical decline, and the fact that he would officially become an octogenarian during the term, he doesn’t want to go through all that again.

Father Time is undefeated.  He might take a long time to defeat some of his opponents, but he will win.

This is somewhat analogous to the way another President decided to punt on seeking another term.  So the story goes, in early 1968, LBJ asked the best doctors and actuaries in the country to give him his most likely age of death, and they told him 64.  At that time, he was already 59, going to turn 60 that August.  So that’s why, nine years to the day before I was born, he announced he wasn’t seeking another term.  And as it turned out, all those experts were dead right (no pun intended) about that 64 thing.





Special Prosecutor in the McCloskey Case.

24 02 2021

Guest post by Puggg

It’s going to be Richard Callahan, who used to be the Federal attorney for St. Louis.

Any thoughts on what this means for the case?





Rush

17 02 2021

Limbach, Baden-Württemberg, Germany

Quite a few years ago, and mindful of the fact that he liked to play Mannheim Steamroller as bumper music during Christmas, Rush revealed the fact that his patrilineal ancestral village was near Mannheim, named Limbach. Obviously, that was their original last name, and they Anglicized it when they migrated to the Pennsylvania Dutch region at first, and then to southeast Missouri.

Wikipedia lists five different towns named Limbach in modern day Germany, and the Michelin Road Atlas index lists twelve of them. But the one in particular, I’ve seen. It was on the Great 2018 Summer Voyage. You head east out of Heidelberg along a road that runs along the north bank of the meandering Neckar River, for about an hour. Then you turn left on this country road and head up and away from the river for maybe about ten minutes, and you’re there. Plain words, you’ve got to be going there to get there, you don’t land there by accident.

And now I think that a lot of people are going to hear about this town, and, at least when it’s feasible to do international travel again, a lot of conservative Americans will do a pilgrimage there. For those of you who will eventually do that, I should say there’s not much there, so you’ll probably want to stage your accommodations in Heidelberg (one of the most underrated cities in Germany, IMHO — Do the Philosophers’ Walk if you have a brain), or Mannheim if you’re feeling ironic.





Presidents Day (And Snow Day) Open Thread.

15 02 2021

Guest post by Puggg

You’ve read the title, so you know what to do. Besides getting your shovels ready for what we all around here know what we’re going to have to do tonight and tomorrow.





City Jail Riot.

7 02 2021

Guest post by Puggg

This isn’t because of Covid. It’s because that jail, a relatively new one I should add, has pretty low security protocols, especially considering the kind of inmates it holds. When you combine that with the fact that the kind of inmates there are already amped up on a second Ferguson Effect, then it’s easy to predict that small riots like these would break out. And no, they’re not uprisings, and they’re not protests. If you ask me, the real surprise is that these things don’t happen every week these days, when you consider all the factors.





And They Wonder Why People Oppose MetroLink.

1 02 2021

Guest post by Puggg

10 in the morning on Sunday, in January, cold and cloudy outside, with a stiff northwesterly cold wind. When you would least expect it.

Channel 4‘s version and Channel 2‘s version. In case they take down the photos and videos, the suspect is black and the victim was white.

They do this to the security guards, so imagine how bad it must be between civilians, if you didn’t already know.





The Sack of Wall Street

28 01 2021

Manhattan; Frankfurt

Considering the times, our sector, especially in the United States, is going to have to be really careful in its/our tactics. One of the big ones we’ll have to rely on is finding cracks in the system and exploiting them.

This is why the “It’s Okay to Be White” and “No White Guilt” fliers are wonderful tactics, because of the chess board positioning. They are facially uncontroversial and non-radical messages, that force our enemies into self-exposing their own fanaticism and extremism in front of something that has a record button.

It’s also why I just love this Reddit-organized hedge funding of hedge funds. The financial and other media on two continents are absolutely losing it. I should know about the second part, because my daily driver media source is more or less the spokesmouth for the continental European stock markets. It’s why I’ve started saying recently that Karma is just convenient shorthand for the reality that people tend to die by the swords they live by.

Someone concurred with me on Twitter:





The Willingham Doctrine, Again

26 01 2021

Washington, D.C.

Me, February 4, 2014:

Voltaire was once rumored to say or write that you can tell who rules you for who you’re not allowed to criticize. Likewise, as this row has proven, you can tell which group of people suffers which particular problems for which group of people want talk of those problems shut down and censored. A UNC tutor blows the whistle about dumb athletes, and like they have springs in their butts or ants in their pants, every black race lobby on and off campus starts jumping up and down in a panic. Even if you were too dense to infer “black” from “dumb athlete,” the fact that black groups and spokesmouths started complaining about it should spell it out for you.

Fast forward to the present.

Has anyone else noticed how offended that black talking heads, spokesmouths and race lobbies get when the topic turns to voter fraud back in November, how vitriolic is their riposte?  It’s almost as if they’re implicitly confessing to something that nobody, especially those who are publicly advocating against the fraud in some way, won’t admit, or don’t know themselves.





Independence Day

22 01 2021

The Nursery

Our sons turn one month old today.

Since their mother and I have already taught them everything they need to know, we’re kicking them out of the house today. Time to get out there, be independent, and take on the world.

On second thought, maybe we should wait until they can, like, uh, walk talk and be potty trained…

Seriously, this is the first time in two weeks that I’ve felt like kicking any kind of joke.





Open Thread on Just Another Wednesday.

20 01 2021

Guest post by Puggg

Since there’s really nothing going on news wise that matters that much to me or most of you. But hey, it is hump day, make it through today and the weekend is within sight. For most of you, anyway. I really don’t have weekends, I’m pretty much working all the time. Friday night for me these days is getting through backed up paperwork, moving as much inbox stuff to outbox as I can, while on occasion getting up to play some air guitar to whatever songs on the radio come on to get me to do that.

But I think I’m going to do something relaxing around 11 this morning, without any TVs or screens around.

Open thread, bark away.





The Dash

20 01 2021

Washington, D.C.

I’m not mentally in a good place.  I’ve got a whole lot going through my mind, a whole lot of grief to work through, in between everything else I have to do.  Our sons turn one month old on Friday — It’s been a fast month.  Eventually, I’ll have many more and coherent thoughts, but it’s going to take me some time.  In fact, me writing this here is the first time I’ve even looked at my own blog in twelve days.

I just wanted to chime in on this day.  Within nine hours as I write this, the Trump Presidency will be over.  A lot of people will be doing a lot of analysis of it and him for a really long time.  It and he will be the full employment bill for historians, analysts, authors, pundits and talking heads for decades, and will cast a very long Washington- and Jackson- and Lincoln- and FDR-style shadow on American Presidential politics.  Personally, I think that most of the people in our own sector who are insouciant about what is ending today are going to come to miss it and him, even counting the disappointments, flubs and foibles.  You don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone, a truism that will never stop being true.

But that’s not really my purpose here.

I’ll always have my very personal reasons for being eternally grateful that the Trump Presidency existed.  Some of you, who I know and/or trust, already know the details.  For the rest of you, it’s the kind of thing that I won’t be able to discuss in public for a long time, in spite of the Trump Presidency being in the books and the hard drive in nine hours.  Let’s just say that I’ve lived through the entirety or nearly so of seven Presidents, but only this one I can legitimately say engaged in things that had precipitating causation in seriously changing my life.

Me, on January 20, 2017, to a way different me on January 20, 2021, and all that transpired in between and because.  The dash.





Sad News.

19 01 2021

Guest post by Puggg

I’ve been given permission to say here what you’re about to read. I actually got permission to say more. But I’m going to use my discretion and leave some of it out.

I’m also saying this and writing this as a post on the day and time that I am for a good reason. Because our normal host wanted to wait until everything that needed to be done got done. All those things have happened now, so I can go ahead and write this.

His mother. It happened the day after his last post here, the one about learning that he’s going to be an uncle. It was the dementia.

Even though all the services and other things are now over, he tells me he’s still in a state of shell shock, his words.

When the time is right, he’ll be back here to explain everything.





Real Housewives of Cologne, Episode 11

7 01 2021

“BABY FEVER IS CONTAGIOUS”

Considering the last year, maybe I shouldn’t have titled it quite that way…

Anyway.

Sixteen days after Frau. and I became parents, we learned today that we’re also going to be an aunt and uncle.

My sister-in-law and the soyboy-in-law are expecting. They broke the news to my parents-in-law this evening at supper, even though they gave us a heads up late morning, but wanted it to be a surprise for the grandparents-to-be-again that evening, the tests confirmed today. Preliminarily due in the second half of August, and that range would include the soon-to-be daddy’s 32nd birthday. Soon the docs will be able to narrow the range down.

***

I wrote this back on May 31 in this series:

This has relevance to those two other people that have been a serial feature in this the RHOC series: My sister-in-law, and her husband, the soyboy-in-law.

First off, the good news is that the one-two-three punch of our actually getting married, the Covid-19 lockdown, and our expecting, have finally forced my sister-in-law to give up on her treachery. But more than that, and while no actual words have been spoken to prove it, I can see in their body language that these three recent major events are making my sister-in-law and her husband to do good hard soul searching, to figure out what they really want out of life, and if whatever they decide for themselves going forward involves each other or nah.

So I’m going to make this prediction now: Two years from today, May 31, 2022, they will be either one of two things but not both: Parents, or divorced.

And then on September 1:

One last note: You’ll remember that I wrote in this series back in May, that all that has transpired over this year has not only forced my sister-in-law to give up on her quixotic treachery, but also it has forced her and the soyboy to do some deep introspection. I predicted that, two years hence, they would be either parents or divorced. Nothing has happened since then to make me think one is more likely than the other, but one major thing that happened while we were away on Flitterwochen is that he has made a career change, though to say that he made a “change” is misleading, because what he had before wasn’t really a career, just menial employment. Anyway, I can’t say here what it is, for security purposes, and I wasn’t even aware that one could make a living doing such a thing. But, he is, and already he’s making serviceable money, and because Cologne is one of the world’s centers for this relatively new industry, one that held a big annual trade show here in town over this past extended weekend, he certainly lives in the right city for his newfound profession. Though he will be doing going his fair share of travel. I will say that, as of now, both of them combined now make enough to sustain themselves and a potential baby, so that might be a hint that they’re growing closer together. But, by the same token, each one of them is now making enough to live well enough separately, so it could be just as much of a hint that they’re headed to Scheidungsgericht.

Though for the first time, I’m actually cheering for them to make it. Because I think it would be so neat if (fill in the blank for my planned name of my first son) and (fill in the blank for my planned name of my second son) eventually come to have one or more first cousins. Since I’m an only child, and Frau. has no other siblings, they, (or in theory, my sister-in-law with another man) are the only possible source of potential first cousins for fill-in-the-blank and fill-in-the-blank.

Last month, I think it was early in the month, I wrote on all my socials that both my father-in-law and my sister-in-law were acting strange. Frau. and I found out on Christmas Day why my father-in-law was; Those of you who have received and read my birth announcement already know what it turned out to be. And now I know why my sister-in-law was, because now I’m guessing that, by then, she missed her time of the month, combined with the fact that they were trying, inspired by Frau. and I, (baby fever is contagious, after all), and she already knew.

***

This is good news on several levels.

First, it means that my father-in-law, already on Cloud Nine because he’s now a new grandpa, is going to be a grandpa again. When my sister-in-law made the big announcement at dinner, knowing what was coming, I immediately went over to him and held him to the floor, to keep him from literally going into orbit.  While I was able to prevent that, he was so happy that he did something that I am told that he has never done out of a sense of happiness:  Cry.  And those of you who have read my birth announcement can already figure one big thing he’s going to do in the next several months in earnest.

Second, it means that my sister-in-law’s treachery is officially over. Now it’s perfectly apparent that they figured out in 2020 that all they ever will really have are each other. So why not make the best of it?  They got married some time in the relatively recent past for some reason, after all.  It also proves in the long run that my strategy of being persistently cold toward her, but never directly combative, and never pushing the matter out into the open, as the way to counter her treachery, was the right one.  Anything else, and I could have caused serious interpersonal damage, and none of this would be happening today.

Third, it means that my twin sons will have at least one first cousin pretty close in age to themselves. Something tells me though that, for Frau. and I, he or she will be somewhat kinda sorta de facto our third child.

Fourth, and most importantly, and pointing back to my my father-in-law cried tears of joy, if all goes well and Mother Nature does her proper job, the end result is going to be a family unit that was functional but unsettled and uncertain as late as the beginning of May 2019, to my parents-in-law seeing their older daughter finally find “the one” (after nothing but frustration in that department) and get married and have children, and their younger daughter and other son-in-law finally quit being semi-functional louts and get serious about each other and life in general, ending with having their own son(s) and/or daughter(s) — By September 1, my parents-in-law will be the grandparents of (at least) three.  His tears (and more so, let’s be honest, he kinda sorta fell out, which means a lot, especially for someone like him, whose emotional swings are very low amplitude, unlike his older daughter), were also about the consummation of the thing.  I would guess that every parent worth a damn experiences these emotions when they realize that all of their own children have or will soon have children of their own, grandchildren from all their children.

None of this seemed possible for them as late as May 1, 2019.  Just as none of this and more seemed possible for me as late as a year to the day before that.

All this because I came along and like a wild eight-ball set off a domestic chain reaction that now sees everyone all the better for it.

I think that my father-in-law and mother-in-law will, some time very soon tonight, before they go to sleep, before they turn off the bedside lamps, look at each other, one will say a certain phrase, and the other will agree, that at least roughly translates to:  “The kids are alright.”  Then probably sleep as well as they have in a long time.

I’m the best thing that ever happened to these people.

***

One interesting footnote here is how my mother-in-law, who picks up on everything, totally missed her younger daughter being pregnant, and didn’t see it coming. Middle aged or older women who are at least average in intelligence and perception really have an uncanny ability slash sixth sense about things. And my mother-in-law has these abilities in surplus. I now know that, after the first night I met the family in mid-August 2019, the pilot episode of this the RHOC series, later that night, she told he who would eventually become my father-in-law that I gave her a feeling that I was going to be “the one” for their older daughter in a way that none of Frau.’s other previous serious boyfriends ever did. You also know from this series that, on the night I proposed, only my mother-in-law saw that there was something more than met the eye to the evening. And, later on, as I would find out, she figured Frau. was expecting even before she missed her first time of the month. Later on, she was the first to speculate “Zwilling” (“twins”) out loud.

Yet, her intuition didn’t go off at all this time, and on top of that, I had a better long term read the subject matter than she did.  Odd one there.

***

Things are going so well for me and us.  Too well, as a matter of fact.

The comedown, whenever it comes and whatever it is, is going to be good hard and swift.  Though, considering my relatively recent life history, maybe I shouldn’t have put it quite that way…





On the Excitement in D.C. Today

6 01 2021

Washington, D.C.

I turn my head for one day, one FRICKIN’ day.

I actually had a short roadtrip today to Wiesbaden. This was my first any kind of extended time away from my wife and 15-day old sons since they were born. Eventually, there will be many more and much longer such trips. But ABL and I digress.

On D.C.:

I get what they’re trying to do, on several levels.

But I also know that an ounce of prevention is a pound of cure. The sorts of people who are engaging in exuberant protesting today are the kinds that are trying to administer (most likely ineffective) pounds of cure today, because they didn’t want to do the ounce of prevention a long time ago. Somewhat ironically, the people who wanted the ounces of prevention way back when are the kind of people who don’t have any interest in behaving so exuberantly today.

As a bonus, all I need are six words to explain what happened in Georgia yesterday:

Cocaine Mitch blocked the two grand.

As another bonus:

 

UPDATE 1/7

I’m going to get my new thoughts in really quick before this evening — And yes, you’ll soon read about that.  Don’t touch that dial.

(1)  Going into the interior of the Capitol, even those who didn’t actually do any damage while inside, was a line stepper. That’s one big difference between yesterday and the very similar Bundestag “storming” nothingburger back in August.

(2) There were a million and a half people there yesterday, and nearly all of them were able to resist the temptation to enter the Capitol. Which only makes it worse for those that did.

(3) Chatter about Antifa provocation. I think we’ll eventually find out that that was partially the case, but no more than a small percentage. But I go back to one item above — A million and a half people there, and nearly all of them were resilient to such provocation, which makes those that weren’t look all the more stupid.

(4) This wasn’t Trump’s fault, but he does need to get out in front of this in a yuge bigly public way.

(5) “Defund the Police” and “It’s just property” are now officially over.

(6)  Dear mainstream media — When you beg your own political allies to riot for a whole season, don’t be surprised when people who you all wish wouldn’t heed the message do just that. After all, sometimes, it’s not just dogs that hear the dog whistles.

(7)  If I was properly geographically positioned, I could have seriously seen myself going, but my instincts would have been not to get too close to the Capitol. Definitely not climb the steps, (which, by itself, isn’t a big deal), and sure as hell not go inside. There are things worth falling on your sword over, but the mere person of Donald John Trump isn’t one of them. The voter fraud issue obviously needs attention, but the million and a half people who did it the right way yesterday did just that, and visually served as a mass human asterisk affixed to the coming “Presidency” of one Joseph Robinette Biden, Jr.

 

 





Real Housewives of Cologne, Episode 10

1 01 2021

“FATHERHOOD IS (GOING TO BE) HARD”

(1) How am I not going to spoil them? Even more daunting is how I’m going to undo their grandpa’s spoiling of them. Those of you who have gotten my e-mail announcement know that he already has, in a big way.

(2) It is inevitable that both I and their mother will favor one over the other, it’s just human nature. How am I going to engage in them to where they don’t realize it? Some of the worst and longest lasting family feuds are rooted in parents’ sibling favoritism.

(3) How am I going to be able to split the uprights and avoid the undesirable extremes of helicopter parenting on one end and total insouciance on the other? The former is how the world ended up with special snowflakes in constant need of safe spaces, and the latter is how we got street gangs.

The more I think about it, the more I realize that…

Note: In light of what I have come to learn recently, I’ve added a new axiom, number 79.





Happy New Year.

31 12 2020

Guest post by Puggg

Another one gone, another one starting, as usual, huh?

I wish I couldn’t be part of the crowd that is saying good riddance to 2020, but like most people, I am.

The coming year has good chances of another big advancement in my career, if it’s optimism you want.

New Year 2021 open thread.