Friday, February 23, 2018

The True Root of the Square-Root Debacle (UPDATED)

Prehistoric woman draws inscrutable glyphs on ancient monitor.
The events outlined in this story indicate more than mere blithering idiocy.
A discussion among students at Oberlin High School in Oberlin, La., about a mathematical symbol led to a police investigation and a search of one of the student’s homes, according to the Allen Parish Sheriff’s Office.

On the afternoon of Feb. 20, detectives investigated a report of terroristic threats at the school, where they learned that a student had been completing a math problem that required drawing the square-root sign.
Students in the group began commenting that the symbol, which represents a number that when multiplied by itself equals another number, looked like a gun.
The county sheriff's office didn't search the home of the student who knew the purpose of the symbol, but that of another student.
After several students made comments along those lines, another student said something the sheriff’s office said could have sounded like a threat out of context. Police searched the student’s home, where they found no guns or any evidence that he had any access to guns. Authorities also wrote there was no evidence the student had any intent to commit harm.
The most frightening part about this story isn't that the kids failed to recognize the symbol. It's that the authorities acted based upon that ignorance.
“The student used extremely poor judgment in making the comment, but in light of the actual circumstances, there was clearly no evidence to support criminal charges,” the department wrote, adding that the school board had been contacted to determine any disciplinary action for the student.
All emphasis mine.

Why couldn't the circumstances have been determined before a search warrant was issued?

And who issues search warrants? Judges and magistrates. Adults. Arbiters of law who cannot even recognize a symbol from seventh-grade level math and make reasonable decisions therefrom. Simply put, too many of them are ready, willing and able to sign a warrant allowing Law Enforcement to invade your home regardless of context.

I can't get mad at the group of students who didn't recognize the square-root symbol, because it isn't their responsibility to teach themselves. I can't even get mad at the sheriffs.

Ignorance breeds fear and it is the credentialed -- the ones who sit in classrooms and courtrooms and shape/misshape the lives and the thinking of the rest of us while being paid by us -- who seeded this crop. And they've been at it a long time.

It can be stopped. But we have to want it bad enough.

(Thanks to Joe Hale)

UPDATE: What really happened ... so far.
"The whole notion that there was a SWAT raid over a math symbol is absurd," Hebert told PJM. "I got a call from a KPLC that they had a serious threat of a shooting at the school, so we went to the house to verify. There was no search warrant, we just sent two [deputies] to knock on the door," chuckled Hebert. "This is a small parish and everybody knows everybody and we found out very quickly there was no crime and no threat."

In spite of that declaration, the student is facing expulsion. In the wake of the shooting in Florida the school board set a new policy. According to KATC, "Any student accused of talking about guns or school shootings will be investigated by three entities: the school board, the sheriff's department, and the district attorney's office."
If I had kids, I'd homeschool them. And I'd teach them about guns, not to mention math.

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Tuesday, February 20, 2018

That Time When the Scales Fell Away From My Eyes

I like listening to accounts of miracles; stories of what the Living God has done for people. I don’t call them testimonies because, in the Bible, only God has testimonies, but in the accepted vernacular, that’s what they are. I have many of them, but one stands out.

Occasionally, I have dropped information about things He’s done in my life, but in that area, I haven’t talked of how God has pursued me.

Allow me to meander to the point.

When one enters the military, at the beginning of Basic Training, the recruit is asked whether he/she wants a religion to be engraved on his/her dog-tags. I was 19 when joined the USAF in 1981 and, reflexively, I had 'Christian' engraved on mine.

Not long afterward, I looked at the tags. It seemed silly. At best, I acknowledged God’s existence and that was all. I spent my young adult years ignoring Him, which seemed only fair. He had been ignoring me since I was born – or so I thought at the time. Neither of my two sets of parents were Christians when I was growing up. (They are now.)

A lot of people remember the exact date that they became Christians. I don’t, not even the year. However, I’d read parts of the Bible and never dabbled in atheism.

Then, 1995-ish, I read the Bible cover-to-cover for the first time and “decided” that I believed what it said, and that Jesus the Christ was my Lord and Savior. But, as I look back at that point, it was the end of one journey and the beginning of another.

My conversion happened when I was in my mid-30s. There was no big incident that precipitated it, nor was there any miracle that followed it, at least not one that I could discern. I didn't radically change my behavior. I didn’t become a “super Christian,” or start trying to convert everyone in sight. But if anyone asked what I believed, I told them.

I used to watch Christian TV programming and hear people get up and tell about these huge, awesome miracles that God did for them. But, even after I became a Christian, I was skeptical because God never did anything like that for me …

For many years following my conversion, I thought like this. I don't anymore because ... well, you'll see.

I’ve told of my unusual origin and upbringing before, but I will again – with some additional information.

I’m the child of a Kenyan father and an American mother. I was born in Chicago and raised in Los Angeles. My parents divorced when I was a baby and my father returned to his home country. My great-aunt and great-uncle, Alma and John Simpkins, raised me from ages one to nine in Los Angeles. When I was nine, I went to live with Mom and her new husband, also known as my American dad when I’m talking about these matters. He’s just Dad, actually. (Love you, old man.)

What I haven’t mentioned is that Dad is Mom’s third husband. Mom was married to my biological father for about a year, and she and Dad have been married for close to 50 years. But, in the interim, she was married to an Ethiopian immigrant named Tamaru Feyessa – at the time, a grad student.

Relax. There are no ugly stories I have about Tam, at least nothing that I experienced personally. The acknowledgement of his existence, however, is essential to the telling of this story.

When Mom was married to Tam, I remained in the custody of Aunt Alma and Uncle John and would visit Mom and Tam on the weekends. One weekend, not long after Mom had picked me up and brought me to their home, she received a phone call from her employer, Southern California Pacific Bell, the old, local incarnation of  AT&T. She was a telephone operator, one of the very few black ones at that time. (If you ever hear Mom speak, you’ll know why. Perfect diction; my sisters and I admit to mimicking it when we want to impress.)

Pac Bell had an emergency and needed her to come to work and that’s what she did. Tam and I remained.

Tam was never mean or anything like that; he simply tolerated me as if I were a visiting guest, one which would be gone soon. I sensed it back then, though I could put it into words only later. Long after they divorced, Mom told me that he urged her to allow Auntie and Uncle to legally adopt me – something she never did.

After Mom left for work, Tam looked at me. “I’m going out," he said. "Stay here and don’t open the door.” And he was gone. I don’t remember if he locked the door with a key or did so from the inside, but it was one or the other.

I was three or four years old, but no more than that.

I’ve mentioned before that, as a child, I had a terrible fear of never seeing my various parental entities ever again, and my upbringing makes plain why this was so. (I could do a whole gazillion posts on how this fear has wreaked havoc on my adult love life.)

When Tam walked out, that fear kicked into overdrive. I remember feeling lost, alone, and afraid, as if I were the only person left on earth.

I looked around the ground-floor bungalow apartment. In it, there was nothing of me. I don’t recall toys or a bedroom. It was so different from home -- the warm, happy place where my aunt and uncle spoiled their only child.

Nothing to do but wait.

Then, for some reason, I decided to look out the front window. It had horizontal Venetian blinds and they were closed. Instead of opening them, I lifted one of slats and took a peek.

Directly in front, there were two small plots of grass separated by a concrete pathway leading to the front door, and, behind that, a parking lot, all of which were in clear view. And when I looked out, I saw …

… my Uncle John closing the door of his truck and walking along the pathway towards the apartment!

Uncle John worked for the City of LA, and, therefore, routinely worked on Saturdays. This particular Saturday was no different, but, for some reason, he decided to drop by Mom and Tam’s place. I never found out why he did it.

Tam’s warning about opening the door was immediately null and void. I opened it, ran down the few steps, ran up to Uncle, and jumped up into his arms.

I want to go home I said.

And that’s where he took me.

This story’s purpose isn’t merely to make you say “wow,” or to induce tears – in spite of the fact that I always leak a little when I tell it. It isn’t told to make you mad at anyone or admire anyone. I tell it for one specific reason.

Up until a few years ago, I had totally forgotten about it!

And do you know who reminded me of the story? Do you know who reminded me that God has been doing me solids even when I was too young to see it and even after I got older and was too blinded by fear to see it, even after I became a Christian?

My beautiful and wonderful Mom, that’s who.

Decades after Tam was out of our lives and years after Aunt Alma and Uncle John had gone home to their rewards, Mom reminded me of how much God loves me and has always been looking out for me. She did this even at the expense of her own image in my eyes.

When she reminded me, the memory came back like a flood and so did memories of the many, many other times that God intervened in my life. I’m sure there are more I have yet to remember.

And now that my eyes are opened, I see His miracles all the time, almost daily. Some of them are pretty overt. Right, Joy McCann?

I have never been in the vicinity of Miss Goody Two Shoes; I have always been a selfish person, particularly so before converting to Christ. Recently, after finding out about the death of someone who I loved deeply – and who I hurt just as deeply – I was reminded of this.

God has, of course, always known who and what I am; He kept after me anyway and He began before I was even old enough to pay attention. He kept drawing me to Him. I don't know why, but I am so grateful.

Now, I’m ready to do my meager part in closing the distance.


“I am the door.” — Jesus the Christ

John 10:9. 

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Monday, February 12, 2018

Great Black Patriots in the House of Representatives

In honor of Black History Month, the following is a repost from seven years ago at my old blog. Spoiler alert: it's not about these HoRs.

Several links in the original post -- from NYU and from YouTube -- are dead. I will look for others, but in the meantime, here you go.

UPDATED: NYU's new URL on the topic.


In the immediate aftermath of the American Civil War and during what is known as the Reconstruction period, sixteen black American men -- several of them former slaves -- served in the US House of Representatives with most being from states of the former Confederacy.  All were quite literate and some were self-educated.  What is certain is that these men saw hardship and racism that most of us 21st century brats of all colors cannot begin to conjure.

What is also certain is that each of these men were Republicans and for a very good reason: the Democrat Party of that time was the self-described Party of Slavery and remained the Party of Black Oppression long after.  (Arguably, this legacy continues.)

Linked here [Ed. 2018: link is dead] are the fascinating biographies of each congressman and some of the speeches the men gave during the debates for the Civil Rights Act of 1871—also known as the Ku Klux Klan Act—and the  Civil Rights Act of 1875.

The site linked is called Neglected Voices and the voices of these men have indeed been neglected but the title is so…weak.  These men were anything but weak, hence the title of this post.  I’m sure, however, that they’ve been spinning in their graves of late at the words and deeds of those for whom they set precedent.

These men didn’t have to invent tales of racial epithets hurled or of racial violence; such were their constant companions throughout their lives.  Yet they did more than muddle through life, they soared.  These were real men, not victims; our current crop of representatives looks microscopic next to them

At any rate, here are excerpts of a speech from Richard H. Cain, in which he contradicts overt assertions by his white colleagues regarding the black race’s alleged inferiority:
Mr. Speaker, the gentleman states that during the struggle for freedom four millions of negroes lifted no hand to liberate themselves; that no stroke was made by them to deliver themselves from their thralldom; yet a few moments afterward he makes the statement that their kind-heartedness prevented them from rising up and destroying the wives and children of the rebel soldiers who were at the front. I accept the admission. Sir, there dwells in the black man's heart too much nobleness and too much charity to strike down helpless women and children when he has a chance to do so. No; though the liberty of
Richard H. Cain
our race was dear to us, we would not purchase it at such a dastard price as the slaying of helpless women and children, while their husbands and fathers were away. I would scorn the men of my race forever if they had lifted their hands at such a period as that against helpless women and children, who were waiting in silent anxiety the return of their natural and lawful protectors. Our strong black arms might have destroyed every vestige of their homes; our torches might have kindled a fire that would have lighted up the whole South, so that every southern man fighting in the army would have hastened back to find his home in ashes. But our race had such nobleness of heart as to forbear in an hour [of] such extremity, and leave those men their wives and children.
Sir, I mean no disrespect to the gentleman, but I think the facts will bear me out in the statement that on every occasion on the battlefield where the black man met the white man of the South there was no flinching, no turning back, on the part of the black man. He bravely accepted his part in the struggle for liberty or death. 
The gentleman says he still looks upon the whites as the superior race. That may be the case in some respects; but, sir, if they educated us they certainly should not find fault with us if we follow out what they have taught, and show ourselves obedient servants. 
But, Mr. Speaker, there is another point. The gentleman states that we would make no movement to achieve our liberty. Why, sir, the education which those gentlemen gave the southern slaves was of a peculiar kind. What schoolhouse in all the South was open to the colored race? Point to one. Name the academy where you educated black men and black women as lawyers or doctors, or in any other department of science or art. Point out the county. Give us the name of the district. Tell the name of the school commissioner. Name the teacher. I will name one. Her name was Missa Douglas. And for the attempt to educate those of our race she was incarcerated in prison, and remained there for five years. That is the only instance, so far as I remember, of the education of the colored people of the South. 
Examine the laws of the south, and you will find that it was a penal offense for any one to educate the colored people there. Yet these gentlemen come here and upbraid us with our ignorance and our stupidity. Yet you robbed us for two hundred years. During all that time we toiled for you. We have raised your cotton, your rice, your corn. We have attended your wives and your children. We have made wealth for your support and your education, while we were slaves, toiling without pay, without the means of education, and hardly of sustenance. And yet you upbraid us for being ignorant; call us a horde of barbarians! 
Tell us of our ignorance--the ignorance of the colored race! Why, Mr. Speaker, it appears to me to be presumption on the part of the gentleman to state that we--we whom they have wronged, whom they have outraged, whom they have robbed, whose sweat and toil they have had the benefit of for two hundred years; whose labor, whose wives, whose children, have been at their beck and call--I say it ill-becomes them to taunt us now with our barbarism and our ignorance. Sir, if he will open to us the schoolhouse, give us some chance, we would not have to measure arms with him now. But even now, Mr. Speaker, although there is such disparity between us and him so far as relates to education and resources, even now we fear not a comparison in the condition of education in the last eight years between the whites and the blacks of North Carolina. 
The gentleman, moreover, states that the reason why they did not educate the colored race was that the colored man was not ready. Not ready, Mr. Speaker; if I had that gentleman upon the floor, with my foot upon his neck, and holding a lash over him, with his hands tied, with him bound hand and foot, would he expect that I should boast over him and tell him "You are a coward, you are a traitor, because you do not resist me?" Would he expect me to tell him that when I had him down under my foot, with his hands tied and the lash in my hand lashing his back? Would he tell me that, in conscience, I would be doing justice to him? On, no, no! And yet such was the condition in which he had my race. Why, sir, the whipping-post, the thumb-screw, and the lash, were the great means of education in the South. These were the schoolhouses, these were the academies, these were the great instruments of education, of which the gentleman boasts, for the purpose of bringing these barbarians into civilization. [Applause.] When men boast, they ought to have something to boast of. When I boast, Mr. Speaker, I shall boast of some noble deed. I will boast not of the wrongs inflicted upon the weak; I will boast not of the outrages inflicted upon the indigent; I will not boast, Mr. Speaker, of lashing the weak and trampling under foot any class of people who ought to have my sympathy, nor will I reproach them for being ignorant, when they have been kept away from every means to educate them.
Ironic how so many so-called proud black persons disdain education today. It is easy to see why the stories of such men are left out of the NEA-approved lesson plans--and easy to see why they should be re-remembered.

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I Don't Miss George W. Bush Anymore

A few days ago, Former President George W. Bush said this:
Americans don’t want to pick cotton at 105 degrees, but there are people who want to put food on their family’s tables and are willing to do that. We should thank them.
This brought to my mind the old slave-owner justification for black slavery and I’m not alone.

Victor Davis Hanson:
Bush put a 21st-century spin on 19th-century plantation owners’ pleas that they needed imported chattel African labor because American workers were neither acclimatized to heat nor inexpensive enough to pick cotton in scorching Southern temperatures.
Additionally, gentleman-farmer Hanson points out that there is more than one area in which the former president demonstrated his cluelessness.
To wit, cotton picking (which I used to do as a child in the 1960s on my father’s small 40-acre cotton allotment) has been widely mechanized for over 50 years. And agriculture now only accounts for about 10-20 percent of illegal alien labor. 
Mechanization has revolutionized farming, even in crops once deemed impossible to automate such as nuts, olives, raisins, and delicate Napa Valley wine grapes. New computerized and laser-calibrated breakthroughs will likely mean that even soft fruit and vegetables will soon be mechanically picked, matching ongoing labor reduction in weeding and irrigation.
Read the whole thing.

Bush’s defense of illegal aliens – essentially a criticism of Donald Trump – wasn’t a surprise to me, though his location while doing it, in Dubai, was(!) After all, as president, he advocated the proposed Comprehensive Immigration Reform Act of 2007, which put many of his defenders in near revolt, including me.

Also, I remember when neither the former president nor most of his representatives would even try to rebut the Liberal/Leftist attacks on that administration and its policies. They left that up to the New Media: conservative bloggers. Stupid us.

After Barack H. Obama became president, GWB remained silent about his successor, even when the former repeatedly blamed him for bad things that happened from 2009 to 2017.

I understood GWB’s stance at the time, and it also made me think that he was being consistent; he had little to say about his own predecessor, one William J. Clinton, even in the wake of the horror in 2001 which, in my own opinion, was the crowning achievement that rested on the many Islamic terror attacks on the US that occurred during the Clinton Administration and went unanswered by it.

That opinion is why I voted for George W. Bush in 2000.

The silence during his own administration and the silence during the Obama Administration seemed characteristic of GWB. He let his actions do the talking, or so it seemed.

But now Trump's presidency seems to have loosened GWB’s tongue.

Bush's criticism of President Trump itself isn't the point; it’s where he did it, his own hypocrisy, and most importantly, what his criticism is.

I have blogged here about how hard it is to get a steady job here in the sanctuary state that is California even with skills and experience. (I’m pondering a possible 2019 escape.) What about the other Americans citizens here who don’t have skills and experience – especially the very young? I guess they don't matter.

George W. Bush thinks we should all thank the illegal aliens for picking the fruit and vegetables that I can barely afford, does he? I’m a huge berry fan. Strawberries run over $3 a pound.

But if I wanted to eat shit, literally and figuratively, pennies.

And, it’s a safe bet that the families of Katie Steinle, Jamiel Shaw II, Kayla Cuevas and Nisa Mickens would have two words other than 'Thank You" to say to illegal aliens and to George W. Bush.

On the other hand, one of those words is probably ‘you.’ Co-sign.

UPDATE: Thanks, Glenn. And thanks for the donations, folks!

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Friday, February 9, 2018

Considering a Job

I'm thinking of driving for Lyft. I have pretty clean driving record. Had an accident six years ago which was not my fault. I do have a car, but even though it's in good shape, it's too old for Lyft, so I'll have to rent from them. They have a good deal: $200 upfront, and after they check my record, I should be good to go.

I don't have the $200 and I also need about $800 for rent, electric, Internet, etc. I'll earn part of that transcribing and finishing another project. I've received about $100 $200 in the last few days.

What do you think of this idea? Driving stories should make for fun blogging.

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Fear Will Cause You to Screw Up

I have three allegiances: God, country, and family. God is primary over the others. I trust in the existence, sovereignty, grace and love of God embodied in His son, Jesus the Christ. This trust must be fed daily and, sometimes, minute by minute. It is necessary maintenance against one of the biggest weapons in the arsenal of the Enemy: fear.

I’ve fallen down in the area of trusting God many times. But another trait of God’s is His endless mercy.

One area in which I allowed fear to rule was when Barack Obama was president and I’m far from alone in that. He was who we thought he was and the turmoil stoked by many of the actions perpetrated by his administration proved it, as we are seeing currently.

One thing unchecked fear does is that it causes one to become immobile; that happened with me. However, it also causes us to act rashly and recklessly.

That seems to have happened with the agencies of the executive branch of government during the Obama Administration. They so greatly feared a Trump presidency that they were ready to do anything to prevent it, and failing that, to hobble it. I suspect that these entities had similar plans for Ted Cruz and for Rand Paul, ready for activation had either become the GOP presidential nominee, but I don’t think that there was a plan for any of the other GOP hopefuls. Why not?

Because Trump, Cruz, and Paul stoked fear in the Democrat Party leadership.

Unchecked fear clouds perspective. It makes people blind. Donald Trump is president and, had there been no conspiracy to prevent his presidency, the Democrats could be opposing him with honor right now and without the aroma of corruption stinking up their every word and deed. And why did these entities fear Donald Trump? I mean it’s not as if most of them aren’t still collecting their salaries or retirement benefits. And no one is in jail, nor will they be, as I predicted. I guess they learned these salient lessons from Rathergate.

Crime after crime comes out – daily at this point. The end game: most will resign, write $$$-advanced memoirs and hit the well-compensated lecture circuit. The band will play on.

I'm done with being afraid of these people, though.

And what is with those who are still Never Trump, especially the Christians among them? I contend that it is unchecked fear as well. Trump worshipers? Them, as well. You see, if you don’t trust God, you will overestimate the power of man, of individuals. I did that with Obama and both Never-Trump and Trump worshipers are still doing it. Trump worshipers are composed of the group to which I belonged -- those who feared the Obama Administration – and who did not learn anything from the existence of Obama-worshipers. They screech at the slightest criticism of Donald Trump. Tariffs, anyone?

As for those who remain Never-Trump, there are two types, but the one I will focus on here are those who are Christians and who oppose him because of who he is.

We all know the man’s persona and have for decades. I didn’t like him, and I still can’t say that I like the person, Donald Trump, now. Is he a Christian? I don’t know and what I greatly disliked about him, during the campaign, was his pandering to Christians – and I said as much. For that and a few other utterances during the campaign, he still gets a skeptical eye from me, even though I voted for him.

And, guess what? That is how we are supposed to look at every person in elected office, even if we helped put him/her there. We are not supposed to be looking at the times in which he may have violated our personal moral codes before he was in office and we are not supposed to care about how “presidential” his personality is. What does that last even mean, really?

Does he follow or ignore the US Constitution? Does help the security and economy of the nation? Does he keep or ignore his political promises? There are other standards, of course, but those are the overarching measurement metrics by which to evaluate a president. He is not a deity, a religious leader, our buddy, our spouse, or our daddy.

By the way, I would vote for a non-Christian if he/she is upfront about it when asked, though I would have many reservations about voting for a Muslim.

Where Obama/Trump-haters and Obama/Trump worshipers err: they elevate presidents to the level of God or to even to the level of that leader of fallen angels named Lucifer. In both, they – we – demonstrate our lack of faith in God. We demonstrate our fear.

Whether you like or hate President Trump, or are Trump-neutral, he does not have the ability to destroy this country any more than did President Obama. And, though I believe that there are hidden earthly forces who have this country's cohesiveness in its sites, I don't believe they can touch us either, not as long as there are enough people praying for this nation and trusting in God.

RELATED: Fear Itself (from 2003 at my old blog on a different kind of fear)

RELATED: Christians Should Fear God and Not Clinton

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Wednesday, February 7, 2018

Optical Illusions

Illusions are what most people care about. Bodes well for the future sale of AR devices.

Here are five reasons why I'm not so jazzed about doing a blow-by-blow of the fake dossier.
  • Operation Fast and Furious
  • Benghazi
  • IRS targeting of conservative organizations
  • Secretary of State Hillary Clinton's email server containing unsecured classified information
  • NSA surveillance on journalists James Rosen and Sharyl Attkisson
What do these all have in common besides the fact that all were actions/inactions carried out by the Obama Administration?

It's this: no one was indicted for any of these things.

And that is exactly what will happen with the DOJ/FBI/FISC conspiracy, even if any of the accused come out and say, "Yeah, I did it. Now what?"

I keep waiting for Hillary Clinton to say that very thing. At some point, she will say it and nothing will happen to her.

People go on about optics: how it will look if there's a military parade in DC; whether or not Donald Trump wants others to see the military saluting him; how it appears when the Congressional Black Caucus won't stand up and applaud for the reduced rate of black unemployment. I am guilty of yammering about optics myself. It's fun.

But the  things listed above are not about salutes or parades or the president's goofy hairstyle or his bombast. Those things actually happened.

Those listed things existed alongside President Obama's wonderful optics: his perfectly-creased pants, his tight salt-and-pepper cut, and his silky baritone. And those things on the list are criminal/negligent and they endangered the cohesiveness of this republic.

And no one was arrested for letting them happen or for making them happen. Not even a damned show trial.

Looking forward to all of the evidence that the FBI is and has long been an empty husk being swept under the rug with all the rest of the compost. I would love to be wrong about this.

But it isn't as if it hasn't happened before.

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Tiananmen Envy

US Army parading
President Trump has ordered that the US Armed Forces plan and execute a military parade and, as usual, the partisans are picking sides on the topic. I’m neither for nor against it, but I wanted to see what some of my fellow veterans who are anti-Trump had to say about it. Unfortunately, I haven’t found any of these who aren’t screaming MILITARY DICTATORSHIP!!!

Even a retired general is far too emotional in opposing it.  About the only logical reason to be against it is the amount of money it may cost.

Then, of course, there are those who don’t know jack about the military, military protocol, who are unfamiliar with the term ‘pass in review,' and who long to be martyrs in battle against the Evil Trumpian State. Like these.

That some military dictatorships have military parades does not mean that military parades are, in and of themselves, indicative of a military dictatorship or a totalitarian state. There are a lot more things to be mixed into such a stew – starting with the confiscation of civilian firearms. Call me when this or any future president orders that.

(Thanks to Heidi Gordon)

Every Tuesday and Saturday, I blog at the award-winning DaTechGuyBlog. Latest post: Who Runs Things? (Site still down.)

When you hit the Tip Jar, it helps pays for: A Roof Over My Head, Food, Gasoline, Car Insurance, the writing of My Next Book(s), and Utilities--especially Internet and COFFEE! Yes, coffee is a utility.

Six Items of Interest for February 7, 2018 (UPDATED)

Dan Bongino Show Leads the Pack on the real Obamagate story

I think Washington and/or the media tends to want to box people into this or that, and people are much more complex than that.”

There are many aspects of this life I would like – the low-wage job part, for example. Amazon blew up my phone yesterday, saying they have tons of delivery jobs here in LA. This was the same day that they sent me my fourth “thanks, but no thanks” email about jobs for which I applied, one of them being delivery.

Quincy Jones interview. Fascinating and hair-raising. Marvin Gaye? Richard Pryor? UPDATE: Yes, Richard Pryor.
Quincy Jones
When DREAMer Platitudes Whitewash Bloody Reality

A Brief History of the Fake News Media 

Every Tuesday and Saturday, I blog at the award-winning DaTechGuyBlog. Latest post: Who Runs Things? (Site still down.)

When you hit the Tip Jar, it helps pays for: A Roof Over My Head, Food, Gasoline, Car Insurance, the writing of My Next Book(s), and Utilities--especially Internet and COFFEE! Yes, coffee is a utility.

Tuesday, February 6, 2018

Not Crumbs: $1500

At least not to me, especially since I've been getting ignored by employers -- Amazon sent me a fourth "thank you, but we are not moving forward with your application" email yesterday. I actually appreciate those.

But, I still have to pay my rent, my utilities, and my internet, per usual. So, your donations are appreciated. Also, I have about three non-blog projects to finish.

I'm looking a $1500 -- two bills are overdue. I'll keep you posted about the goal.

Something else I hope many of you do: pray for my friend Peter Ingemi, proprietor of Da Tech Guy Blog, which, as you know, has been my blog-home away from home since 2013.

Peter's blog is down. Normally, I post there on Tuesday afternoons, but it looks as though that won't happen today. He doesn't know what the problem is.

Also, I had planned to post my January Digest of blog posts from DTGB, but publishing it would be futile if you can't get to the site. As soon as all is back in order, I'll put up the digest post here.

Every Tuesday and Saturday, I blog at the award-winning DaTechGuyBlog. Latest post: Who Runs Things? (Site Down.)

When you hit the Tip Jar, it helps pays for: A Roof Over My Head, Food, Gasoline, Car Insurance, the writing of My Next Book(s), and Utilities--especially Internet and COFFEE! Yes, coffee is a utility.

Run Down by Chaos or Why Your Lives and Mine Don't Matter

Edwin Jackson
On Sunday, Indianapolis Colts linebacker Edwin Jackson and his Uber driver Jeffrey Monroe were run down by a twice-deported illegal alien  named Manuel Orrega-Savala whose blood-alcohol level was .239 (Police reported that the name he gave to the authorities -- Alex Cabrera-Gonzales – was fake.) Both Jackson and Monroe are dead. I bet that Mr. Jackson had imbibed a bit himself and called a taxi to get home, just to be on the safe side. Just to keep himself and others safe.

When President Trump introduced some of his State of the Union guests, notable among them were two married couples whose daughters were murdered by MS-13 gang members -- at least two of whom are illegal aliens -- I looked up their story. The couples appeared to be black Americans, but it turns out that they are Hispanic Americans or Latinx, as the latest politically-correct term styles it.

Just two young girls – best friends -- walking home.

Then, there’s Katie Steinle, just out for a stroll with her father. The illegal alien who killed her was found not guilty of manslaughter.

Locally, there was Jamiel Shaw II. Jamiel’s 2008 murder by an illegal alien gang member has always weighed heavily on my heart. And the fact that he was black is the least of reasons. Shaw was set to graduate from my alma mater, Los Angeles High School. He, his father, mother and brothers lived not far from where I lived during my high school years. And, worst of all, at the time of his murder, his mother, Anita, was serving in the Army National Guard and was stationed in Iraq.

Think about that. Mrs. Shaw was safer in Iraq than her son was at home. And young Shaw had merely been on his way home from a trip to the mall. He was just a few houses down from home.

Safe. Home.

We are not safe at home.

This is not a political party thing, nor an ethnic thing, but a power issue. Celebrities like Mr. Jackson are not safe. Young girls walking home from school or on outings with their parents are not safe, and aspiring athletes like Mr. Shaw are not safe. Black, brown, white, and yellow Americans aren’t safe. Legal immigrants aren’t safe. Even illegal ones aren’t.

Would we be safe were every illegal alien put out of this country today? Of course not. But we, as a nation, are obliged to handle our own problems and not obliged to deal with burglars who not only squat here, but can’t even have the decency to not kill us mid-squat.

But we know what the true problem is: the government class. And it’s not even just the Democrats. Do you not remember the 2007 turkey also known as Comprehensive Immigration Reform? I distinctly remember one conservative named Linda Chavez concluding that opponents of that floatation of amnesty were racist. It was 11 years ago, but the acronym FYB is still sitting just behind my lips.

Yes, I’m still pissed.

But not as pissed as the families of the above-mentioned victims are, safe bet.

Chaos and tribalist war have long been the goal of allowing illegal entry into this country to continue unchecked. I will point the finger at every president all the way back to President Reagan (yes) and every congress back to the point of Reagan’s second term. They are the leaders of the government class and, therefore, have either served up chaos or sat back while chaos does what it always does.

It rolls downhill on those least able to defend ourselves against it.

Edwin Jackson
Jeffrey Monroe
Katie Steinle
Nisa Mickens
Kayla Cuevas
Jamiel Shaw II

And all of the others. Safe home at last.

Every Tuesday and Saturday, I blog at the award-winning DaTechGuyBlog. Latest post: Who Runs Things?

When you hit the Tip Jar, it helps pays for: A Roof Over My Head, Food, Gasoline, Car Insurance, the writing of My Next Book(s), and Utilities--especially Internet and COFFEE! Yes, coffee is a utility.

Monday, February 5, 2018

Almost Woke


Neither is the Republican Party. Especially on the federal level, these parties are composed mostly of
people who have two goals: to stay in office for as long as possible and, thereby, to accrue as much money and power as possible. And that has been so for a very long time.

Almost each member of the House and the Senate is his/her own friend, in addition to being a friend to those colleagues who help him/her in reaching the goals.

Case in point. Last week, during the State of the Union address, President Trump pointed out that unemployment among black Americans was at its lowest point since the measurement of it began. Watching the response of the Congressional Black (Democrat) Congress was fascinating. All members remained seated. One member clapped, but the rest of them only frowned and slumped down in their seats. (The funniest part was watching the white Democrat congressmen in the area looking at each other as if to check to see if it was okay to clap or not.)

Why weren’t members of the Congressional Black Caucus happy about more black people being employed? Easy. Because the president is not a member of the Democrat Party and the low unemployment rate for black Americans does not benefit the Democrat Party and, therefore hinders the Caucus's goals: to stay in office and to accrue more money and more power.

But I think the linked piece has the wrong title, not to mention countless faulty assumptions and conflations.
Every day for an entire month, [the Democrat Party] looked us in the eyes and told their constituents how they were going to resist the ethnic-cleansing-lite policy of the Republican Party. “Not a dime until we renew the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals,” they said. “We’ll shut it down if they don’t agree,” they told us. If Congress funded the government, Dems promised that the GOP would have to do it without a single Democratic vote. 
They were lying the whole time. (…) 
So here we are again, left out in the cold while the Democratic Party gets warm and cozy behind the artifice of solidarity and equality. They are tricksters. They will sit at the table of our last supper and break bread with us, knowing that they have already conspired with the enemy planning our crucifixion. We know they are going to betray us, but we are always surprised when the cock crows. 
They get us every time. 
They will lock arms with you and claim that they are your “ride or die.” They are always by your side, but if there ever comes a time when you have to stand back-to-back and fight, those white friends will likely disappear. They are always willing to ride. They are never willing to die. (…)
The writer’s premises for the assertion about who our friends are all reek of this one thing: collectivism. Black, brown, and Muslim solidarity -- as if DACA will be some grand bennie to all non-white, non-Christian/Jewish constituencies.
But this is how the Democratic Party operates. It is impossible to say whether they remain perpetual losers because of a lack of a plan or because they don’t give a fuck about their nonwhite constituents, but it is telling that their losses somehow always end up costing black and brown people.
There is no racial group, nor politician, nor political party that is my friend and that goes for you as well. There are indeed individuals who are my friends, but activist groups and political parties can, at best, be only allies. But, most of the time, these alliances are really patron-serf relationships and they feed the money-power goals of the patrons.

You do remember what I said about racial patronage, right?

Many black people have [this] view of white people: they view all of you as their hated masters, (...) but their masters, nonetheless. Moreover, as our masters, it is your duty to feed, clothe, and house us; and to give us anything else we ask of you. (...)

[Black liberals] are unable to view white persons outside of the master/patron/domination paradigm and cannot envision any relationship between black persons and white persons outside of that perspective. Somebody has to be on top. And, in light of our past and our indoctrinated and unacknowledged feelings of inferiority, most black liberals believe it will be you, my white friends.
The writer's outrage at the actions of the White Democrat Party perfect demonstrate this way of thinking. He is angry that the Patrons are not doing their jobs.

But if he thinks that ganging up with other racial/ethnic groups is the answer to getting off the bottom, he's in for another rude awakening. Power begins at the individual level.

(Thanks to Lancia Stewart)

Every Tuesday and Saturday, I blog at the award-winning DaTechGuyBlog. Latest post: Who Runs Things?

When you hit the Tip Jar, it helps pays for: A Roof Over My Head, Food, Gasoline, Car Insurance, the writing of My Next Book(s), and Utilities--especially Internet and COFFEE! Yes, coffee is a utility.