Showing posts with label Just Goofing Off. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Just Goofing Off. Show all posts
03 March 2011
Desert Spirituality for Reformed People (4)
Pachomius
You greatly delude yourself...if you think that one thing is demanded from the layman and another from the monk.... Because all must rise to the same height.... ~ St. John Chrysostom
Saint Pakhom, also known as Pachomius, is recognized by most as the founder of Christian monasticism of the cenobitic type, the type of monasticism with which we are most familiar.
Pachomius was born in Thebes in 292 to pagan parents and during difficult times for the Roman Empire (i.e., the Crisis of the third century, 235-395), during which twenty-five emperors reigned and the empire experienced extreme military, political, and economic crises.
From what we know, we believe he was pressed into military service at the age of 20, during a Roman army recruitment drive -- a common occurrence -- and somehow ended up in prison.
During his imprisonment, Christians brought food and comforts to the inmates. This ministry to the captives made an indelible impression on him, and he vowed to learn all about Christianity when he was released. As things turned out, he was able to get out of the army without ever having to fight. He was converted and baptized in 314 in the city of Tabennisi; and became totally committed to his new faith.
He then came into contact with a number of well known ascetics and decided to pursue that path. He sought out the hermit Palaemon, who was living on the Nile River, and came to be his follower in 317. After studying seven years with Elder Palaemon, Pachomius set out upon the life of a hermit near St. Anthony of Egypt, whose practices he imitated until realizing that he was not called to the solitary life of the hermit. According to one story, he had a dream in which God told him to build a monastery and wait for God to fill it with men of prayer, desiring to become cenobitic monks like himself. According to another story he had a dream in Tabennisi in which a voice told him to build a dwelling to which hermits could come. (An earlier ascetic named Macarius had earlier created a number of proto-monasteries -- "larves" -- where holy men physically or mentally unable to achieve the rigors of St. Anthony's solitary life could live in a more community-like setting.)
Whichever story we accept as true, Pachomius's contribution to monasticism was the organizing of monks into communities of monastics living under a common rule, adding a social dimension to Christian monasticism which it did not have before him.
His first cenobitic monastery was in Tabennisi, Egypt and was established between 318 and 323. The first to join him was his elder brother John, and soon more than 100 monks lived at his monastery. By the time of his death he had built nine of these comminities in Egypt.
Given my own "flirtation" (if you will) with monasticism, I can't help but wondering how these hermit-cenobites lived. Pachomious divided his monks into twenty-four groups, which he named after the letters of the greek alphabet, ranking them according to his assessment of the depth of their spirituality. "Alphas" were beginner monks; and "Omegas" were the most advanced and spiritually mature.
The monks shared all things in common. They worked and prayed together. They ate together. And they practiced the rule which Pachomius had devised for them. They supported themselves by making and selling baskets, giving some of the proceeds to the poor. And, being monks, they engaged in all sorts of good works.
Getting back to the fact that these men and women went out to the desert as a radical solution to the radical problem of the worldliness that they believed had permeated the church, we might point out the obvious: Very likely, every Christian who wished to resist worldliness could not leave for the desert. Clearly that is still true. Nevertheless, there remains much to learn from Pachomius's lifestyle. I'll mention just three.
Part 1, Legitimacy of Monastic Life
Part 2, Rise of the Monastic Movement
Part 3, Theology of the Desert
Part 5, St. Anthony of Egypt
You greatly delude yourself...if you think that one thing is demanded from the layman and another from the monk.... Because all must rise to the same height.... ~ St. John Chrysostom
Saint Pakhom, also known as Pachomius, is recognized by most as the founder of Christian monasticism of the cenobitic type, the type of monasticism with which we are most familiar.
Pachomius was born in Thebes in 292 to pagan parents and during difficult times for the Roman Empire (i.e., the Crisis of the third century, 235-395), during which twenty-five emperors reigned and the empire experienced extreme military, political, and economic crises.
From what we know, we believe he was pressed into military service at the age of 20, during a Roman army recruitment drive -- a common occurrence -- and somehow ended up in prison.
During his imprisonment, Christians brought food and comforts to the inmates. This ministry to the captives made an indelible impression on him, and he vowed to learn all about Christianity when he was released. As things turned out, he was able to get out of the army without ever having to fight. He was converted and baptized in 314 in the city of Tabennisi; and became totally committed to his new faith.
He then came into contact with a number of well known ascetics and decided to pursue that path. He sought out the hermit Palaemon, who was living on the Nile River, and came to be his follower in 317. After studying seven years with Elder Palaemon, Pachomius set out upon the life of a hermit near St. Anthony of Egypt, whose practices he imitated until realizing that he was not called to the solitary life of the hermit. According to one story, he had a dream in which God told him to build a monastery and wait for God to fill it with men of prayer, desiring to become cenobitic monks like himself. According to another story he had a dream in Tabennisi in which a voice told him to build a dwelling to which hermits could come. (An earlier ascetic named Macarius had earlier created a number of proto-monasteries -- "larves" -- where holy men physically or mentally unable to achieve the rigors of St. Anthony's solitary life could live in a more community-like setting.)
Whichever story we accept as true, Pachomius's contribution to monasticism was the organizing of monks into communities of monastics living under a common rule, adding a social dimension to Christian monasticism which it did not have before him.
His first cenobitic monastery was in Tabennisi, Egypt and was established between 318 and 323. The first to join him was his elder brother John, and soon more than 100 monks lived at his monastery. By the time of his death he had built nine of these comminities in Egypt.
Given my own "flirtation" (if you will) with monasticism, I can't help but wondering how these hermit-cenobites lived. Pachomious divided his monks into twenty-four groups, which he named after the letters of the greek alphabet, ranking them according to his assessment of the depth of their spirituality. "Alphas" were beginner monks; and "Omegas" were the most advanced and spiritually mature.
The monks shared all things in common. They worked and prayed together. They ate together. And they practiced the rule which Pachomius had devised for them. They supported themselves by making and selling baskets, giving some of the proceeds to the poor. And, being monks, they engaged in all sorts of good works.
Getting back to the fact that these men and women went out to the desert as a radical solution to the radical problem of the worldliness that they believed had permeated the church, we might point out the obvious: Very likely, every Christian who wished to resist worldliness could not leave for the desert. Clearly that is still true. Nevertheless, there remains much to learn from Pachomius's lifestyle. I'll mention just three.
First, and this is of particular interest to Protestant and Reformed Christians, Pachomius was a man of the Scriptures. The Scriptures played a tremendous role in his life and in the life of his monasteries. We read in his biography: "When he began reading and reciting God's word by heart, he attempted to comprehend it inside himself according to the Lord's word, 'Learn from me for I am gentle and humble of heart.'" So Pachomius not only read the Scriptures; he knew them by heart. He required all his monks to memorize twenty psalms, and two Pauline epistles -- just to join his monasteries!
I think that last point requires some emphasis. The Scripture memorization was just to get into one of his monasteries. We can contrast this purpose with that of contemporary memorization, which is mostly of comforting verses, or proof-texts for whatever theological ax one wishes to grind. The Scriptures are not only sources of doctrine. They are the guide for our lives. It seems almost pointless to say, but the fact is, while evangelical Christians say that the Scriptures are the only rule for faith and practice that isn't always how it works out.
During the course of drafting this post, I read an article about a church in Colorado that has moved its main worship service to Tuesday evenings. The reason is that the people to whom this church ministers (to be generous) are out-door types who like to have their full weekends off, including Sundays.
And yet, the Scriptures -- the rule of both faith and practice -- say:
If I were a betting man, I'd wager that these people would give to monasticism the same out-of-hand dismissal as your garden variety sabbath-keeping Calvinist. And if they were arguing with a Roman Catholic over justification by faith, they'd be able to quote chapter and verse, asserting that the scriptures clearly teach justification by faith, and insisting upon it during their Tuesday evening sabbath keeping.
And yet, whatever its ultimate excesses, especially in the West, monasticism was an attempt by serious Christians to practice what the Scriptures require, especially the so-called evangelical counsels of chastity, charity and obedience.
Second, Pachomius was known for his humility, particularly in regard to positions of authority in the Church. Very early in The Life of Pachomius we learn of a monk who came to visit Pachomius. This anonymous monk attempted the monastic life but ultimately was driven to insanity by the attempt, eventually committing suicide by burning himself to death. As it turns out, this monk was an arrogant man. More than likely, it was his arrogance which destroyed him. The incident left a great impression upon Pachomius, making him adament about not accepting any position of authority or power which might lead one to such suidical heights of arrogance. This included even the priesthood. We are told that the Bishop Athanasius desired to make Pachomius "father and priest" over all the monks within his episcopal territory. But Pachomius would not accept the position. For Pachomius, clerical offices were the beginnings of the lust for power. Furthermore, Pachomius placed all his monks under the same prohibition. Despite his refusal of authority, Pachomius was still a spiritual leader and father far beyond the confines of his monastery.
We can contrast this office-refusing humility with the sort of kingdom building one often sees even in particular churches. I don't know how many complaints I've heard in the twenty-three years I've been a Christian (I'm pushing 46) about choirs. Always someone in the choir is being slighted somehow. Some choir-members' talents are recognized and rewarded with a solo, others' are not. One can't help wondering who such choir-members think they are singing for. A solo? Really? Because God -- the supposed audience -- won't be able to hear you sing otherwise? Morons. Worse, kingdom builders. Trust me: even if you are one of a thousand singing in unison, you are indeed singing a solo.
Obviously, this sort of kingdom building activity isn't limited to choir members. In fact, they probably learn that garbage from their church leaders, who just may be worse in their kingdom building. I try not wonder too much, since I don't really know, but I often wonder if megachurches are not the result of attempts at kingdom building. If so, it need not be simply the pastoral leadership of these churches, but in some cases even more on the part of the congregation. One often feels as if members of those churches aren't a little proud of their large numbers, seeing in those numbers a work of God rather than of men. They should be quaking in their little booties.
Third, Pachomius and his monks did not give their attention solely to the evangelical counsels, hiding behind monastery walls and minimizing sound doctrine and theological controversy. They took part in those controversies. Pachomius is well-known for his defenses of orthodoxy against the Arians. (It was probably his defenses of orthodoxy which led Anthanasius to attempt to ordain him.) Pachomius and his monks were therefore also theologians par excellence.
"Unity" is the watch word d' jour and is often employed to minimize the importance of doctrinal differences. "Doctrine divides," we are told, and we need to not be divisive. We should be focusing on the evangelical counsels, feeding the poor and otherwise caring for ones forgotten by society. But Pachomius had no such sentiment. Yes, we should do those things; but we should also, and equal energy and devotion hold the orthodox ground. He had vowed, as a prisoner, to learn about and to serve Christ. And it made a difference whether the Christ he served was truly God and truly Man, or not.
Pachomius himself was eventually hailed as "Abba" (father) which is where we get the word Abbot. As I mentioned above, he came to found nine monasteries in his lifetime, and after 336, Pachomius spent most of his time at his Pabau monastery. From his initial monastery, demand quickly grew and, by the time of his death in 346, one count estimates there were 3000 monks in his monasteries, dotting Egypt from north to south. Within a generation after his death, this number had grown to 7000 and then moved out of Egypt into Palestine and the Judea Desert, Syria, North Africa and eventually Western Europe.
He is also credited with being the first Christian to use and recommend use of a prayer rope. He was visited once by Basil of Caesarea who took many of his ideas and implemented them in Caesarea, where Basil also made some adaptations that became the ascetic rule, or Ascetica, the rule still used today by the Eastern Orthodox Church, and comparable to that of the Rule of St. Benedict in the West.
Pachomius remained abbot about forty years. When he caught an epidemic disease, he called his monks, encouraged them in their faith, and appointed his successor. He then departed the world on 9 May 348 A.D.
His reputation as a holy man has endured. No surprise, therefore, that he is currently commemorated in several liturgical calendars, and thought of fondly by a few Calvinists as well.
I think that last point requires some emphasis. The Scripture memorization was just to get into one of his monasteries. We can contrast this purpose with that of contemporary memorization, which is mostly of comforting verses, or proof-texts for whatever theological ax one wishes to grind. The Scriptures are not only sources of doctrine. They are the guide for our lives. It seems almost pointless to say, but the fact is, while evangelical Christians say that the Scriptures are the only rule for faith and practice that isn't always how it works out.
During the course of drafting this post, I read an article about a church in Colorado that has moved its main worship service to Tuesday evenings. The reason is that the people to whom this church ministers (to be generous) are out-door types who like to have their full weekends off, including Sundays.
And yet, the Scriptures -- the rule of both faith and practice -- say:
Remember the sabbath day, to keep it holy. Six days you shall labor and do all your work, but the seventh day is a sabbath of the LORD your God; in it you shall not do any work, you or your son or your daughter, your male or your female servant or your cattle or your sojourner who stays with you. For in six days the LORD made the heavens and the earth, the sea and all that is in them, and rested on the seventh day; therefore the LORD blessed the sabbath day and made it holy (Exodus 20.8-11).
If I were a betting man, I'd wager that these people would give to monasticism the same out-of-hand dismissal as your garden variety sabbath-keeping Calvinist. And if they were arguing with a Roman Catholic over justification by faith, they'd be able to quote chapter and verse, asserting that the scriptures clearly teach justification by faith, and insisting upon it during their Tuesday evening sabbath keeping.
And yet, whatever its ultimate excesses, especially in the West, monasticism was an attempt by serious Christians to practice what the Scriptures require, especially the so-called evangelical counsels of chastity, charity and obedience.
Second, Pachomius was known for his humility, particularly in regard to positions of authority in the Church. Very early in The Life of Pachomius we learn of a monk who came to visit Pachomius. This anonymous monk attempted the monastic life but ultimately was driven to insanity by the attempt, eventually committing suicide by burning himself to death. As it turns out, this monk was an arrogant man. More than likely, it was his arrogance which destroyed him. The incident left a great impression upon Pachomius, making him adament about not accepting any position of authority or power which might lead one to such suidical heights of arrogance. This included even the priesthood. We are told that the Bishop Athanasius desired to make Pachomius "father and priest" over all the monks within his episcopal territory. But Pachomius would not accept the position. For Pachomius, clerical offices were the beginnings of the lust for power. Furthermore, Pachomius placed all his monks under the same prohibition. Despite his refusal of authority, Pachomius was still a spiritual leader and father far beyond the confines of his monastery.
We can contrast this office-refusing humility with the sort of kingdom building one often sees even in particular churches. I don't know how many complaints I've heard in the twenty-three years I've been a Christian (I'm pushing 46) about choirs. Always someone in the choir is being slighted somehow. Some choir-members' talents are recognized and rewarded with a solo, others' are not. One can't help wondering who such choir-members think they are singing for. A solo? Really? Because God -- the supposed audience -- won't be able to hear you sing otherwise? Morons. Worse, kingdom builders. Trust me: even if you are one of a thousand singing in unison, you are indeed singing a solo.
Obviously, this sort of kingdom building activity isn't limited to choir members. In fact, they probably learn that garbage from their church leaders, who just may be worse in their kingdom building. I try not wonder too much, since I don't really know, but I often wonder if megachurches are not the result of attempts at kingdom building. If so, it need not be simply the pastoral leadership of these churches, but in some cases even more on the part of the congregation. One often feels as if members of those churches aren't a little proud of their large numbers, seeing in those numbers a work of God rather than of men. They should be quaking in their little booties.
Third, Pachomius and his monks did not give their attention solely to the evangelical counsels, hiding behind monastery walls and minimizing sound doctrine and theological controversy. They took part in those controversies. Pachomius is well-known for his defenses of orthodoxy against the Arians. (It was probably his defenses of orthodoxy which led Anthanasius to attempt to ordain him.) Pachomius and his monks were therefore also theologians par excellence.
"Unity" is the watch word d' jour and is often employed to minimize the importance of doctrinal differences. "Doctrine divides," we are told, and we need to not be divisive. We should be focusing on the evangelical counsels, feeding the poor and otherwise caring for ones forgotten by society. But Pachomius had no such sentiment. Yes, we should do those things; but we should also, and equal energy and devotion hold the orthodox ground. He had vowed, as a prisoner, to learn about and to serve Christ. And it made a difference whether the Christ he served was truly God and truly Man, or not.
Pachomius himself was eventually hailed as "Abba" (father) which is where we get the word Abbot. As I mentioned above, he came to found nine monasteries in his lifetime, and after 336, Pachomius spent most of his time at his Pabau monastery. From his initial monastery, demand quickly grew and, by the time of his death in 346, one count estimates there were 3000 monks in his monasteries, dotting Egypt from north to south. Within a generation after his death, this number had grown to 7000 and then moved out of Egypt into Palestine and the Judea Desert, Syria, North Africa and eventually Western Europe.
He is also credited with being the first Christian to use and recommend use of a prayer rope. He was visited once by Basil of Caesarea who took many of his ideas and implemented them in Caesarea, where Basil also made some adaptations that became the ascetic rule, or Ascetica, the rule still used today by the Eastern Orthodox Church, and comparable to that of the Rule of St. Benedict in the West.
Pachomius remained abbot about forty years. When he caught an epidemic disease, he called his monks, encouraged them in their faith, and appointed his successor. He then departed the world on 9 May 348 A.D.
His reputation as a holy man has endured. No surprise, therefore, that he is currently commemorated in several liturgical calendars, and thought of fondly by a few Calvinists as well.
Part 2, Rise of the Monastic Movement
29 November 2010
Airport security protest fails to get off the ground...
and it's probably a good thing, too.
The desire for such a protest is, at least to me, understandable. I am no fan of the new measures. In fact, I haven't been a fan of many of the other measures, all of which exclude--for politically correct reasons--the one measure which frankly makes the most sense, profiling. Like Charles Krauthammer recently put it:
We pretend that we go through this nonsense as a small price paid to ensure the safety of air travel. Rubbish. This has nothing to do with safety - 95 percent of these inspections, searches, shoe removals and pat-downs are ridiculously unnecessary. The only reason we continue to do this is that people are too cowed to even question the absurd taboo against profiling - when the profile of the airline attacker is narrow, concrete, uniquely definable and universally known. So instead of seeking out terrorists, we seek out tubes of gel in stroller pouches.
To me this is just one more thing we'll get used to until one day our grandchildren will inherit a country ruled be a government so invasive and intrusive as to make the present state of affairs look laissez-faire.
Most disconcerting, from the afore-linked article, was the opinion of one Marti Hancock:
"If that's what you have to do to keep us safe, that's what you have to do."
Say, why not telescreens too, even in personal automobiles? That way we'll know what people are up to before they get to the airport.
Do you think Marti will ever say the following? "If sticking your whole hand up my ass is what you have to do to keep us safe, that's what you have to do." Frankly, I wouldn't put it past her, even though, today, she would probably deny it. After all, presently, the only reason she really knows that's what TSA has to do is because TSA is telling her that's what they have to do. On those grounds, an ass-search shouldn't be objectionable either.
All that aside, the reason it's good that the protest failed is that it would have done nothing to TSA. The only people who would have been affected were the passengers, who would have suffered flight delays, baggage mis-haps and the like. Then, of course, there were those families waiting at destinations who would also have been put out by these delays. Who knows how many Thanksgiving weekends would have been ruined by this.
It's one thing to determine a battle needs fought. It's quite another to choose the right battlefield, as well as the most effective strategies and tactics. This was poorly conceived all around.
28 October 2010
The Life of Juan Libertarian
The following was posted to my Facebook page as a response to a similar piece by one of my friends. The original is re-printed below, for purposes of authorial attribution and needful context.
Juan gets up at 6 a.m. and fills his coffeepot with water to prepare his morning coffee. The water is as clean and good as it was when his ancestors pumped it up from wells they dug themsleves without the help of tree-hugging liberals. With his first swallow of water, he takes his daily medication. His medications are as safe to take as ever because some smart capitalist, in addition to financing the research which brought the medication to market, also determined that knowingly, willingly and negligently killing customers isn't a workable business plan. He also knew that where he failed, one of his competitors might succeed, putting him out of business and his employees out of work.
All but $10 of Juan's medications are paid for by his employer's medical plan because some liberal union workers fought their employers for paid medical insurance - now Juan gets it too. Aside from the fact that he didn't ask for it, he also wouldn't need it if not for the insurance in the first place. You see, Juan is the curious sort who long ago wondered why the costs of just about every other good or service on the market has a tendency to go down, except for healthcare. Reluctant to take the word of people who give him things he did not ask for and then demand gratitude, he looked into the matter himself and determined that using the insurance model to pay for health care is one of the things driving up the costs--that and his government's dictate that there are no such things as pre-existing conditions. Then, too, are all the regulations which arbitrarily add to the cost of it all.
He prepares his morning breakfast, bacon and eggs. Juan's bacon is as safe to eat as it was when his great-grandfather and grandfather were growing pigs on the family farm in South Texas during the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Of course, now, thanks to regulations and all those other good things he asked no one to do for him, his pork costs a hell of a lot more than it did a century ago (adjusting for inflation, which was also brought to him by his government). Not only that, but thanks to all these regulations, and licensing fees, and inheritance taxes, Juan's ancestors could not today afford to go into farming in the first place, leading Juan to believe that the primary purpose of these regulations is, for the most part, to limit the entry of new competitors to the no-longer-very-free market.
In the morning shower, Juan reaches for his shampoo. His bottle is properly labeled with each ingredient and its amount in the total contents because some enterprising capitalist accurately forecast that consumers would have a preference for his product over his competitors' precisely because it was labelled. Juan, of course, doesn't really care as long as it cleans his @#$%ing hair, so he has no intention of expressing gratitude to anyone for it. He paid for shampoo that cleans his hair--label or no label--and he received shampoo that cleans his hair--label or no label. He figures that if he ever really wanted to know what was in his shampoo he could have called and asked the producer to email him a list. Or he could wash his hair, and the rest of his body with lye soap, like his ancestors. Again: he didn't ask anyone for this shit in the first place. After all, even if he could easily pronounce Dodecylbenzenesulfonate, he doesn't have a degree in chemistry so he has no @#$%ing idea what the hell it is, anyway.
Juan dresses, walks outside and takes a deep breath. The air he breathes is clean not because some environmentalist wacko liberal fought for the laws to stop industries from polluting our air but because the people who own those polluting factories discovered they couldn't breathe the shit in the air any more than people who don't own factories. On his view the liberals don't want clean air; they want purified air--or just fewer factories, which they will get due the costs of building and managing new ones. (You know, like oil refineries.)
He walks on a government-provided sidewalk because it's there, whether he wants it to be or not, whether he asked for it or not. If being lectured to by liberals--in addition to paying his taxes--is the price for walking on a sidewalk he didn't ask for, then he'd rather walk in the mud, like humans did for thousands of years without having to be made to kiss meddling liberals' asses for an alternative. (He smiles at the probablility that those humans who walked in the mud for those thousands of years would consider liberals to be whinning, snivelling little pusses. The Spartans would have killed them, or exiled them: dead weight.) As he walks, he shares the sidewalk with children on their way to the elementary school, supported at the local level by his property taxes and at the federal level by his income taxes. (His own children go to a private school, for which he foots the entire bill.) He tries not be too miffed that the people responsible for taking his money in the form of taxes then turn round and lecture him on the gratitude he owes them for what they have provided him at his cost and depriving him, in the process, of those things he might have preferred to spend the money on--had he been allowed to keep it and employ it as he, the earner of the money, saw fit. "Thugs and racketeers," he mutters to himself. "I wish they'd grind this sidewalk to powder and blow it up their asses."
As he stands in the subway car, tolerating his government-subsidized ride to work, he fondles the .45 semi-auto in his overcoat and hopes two things: (1) he doesn't get caught with it since his caring and benevolent government won't let him be responsible for his own safety without its kind permission (any more than it will permit him to be responsible for his own ride to work); and (2) he never has to use it (because his benevolent government doesn't exactly own and manage the safest subway system in the world). He politely smiles at the liberal standing next to him, lecturing him on the benevolence of the government, who takes money from people who for the most part never use the damn thing in the first place. The liberal demands gratitude from Juan for an opportunity he didn't ask for--the "opportunity" to be a contributor. The liberal says, "I object to people like you enjoying the benefits I and my ilk provide and criticizing us for providing them." He tries not to laugh too hard: this liberal don't provide shit; he's a @#$%ing fast food restaurant manager who receives tax credits.
Juan begins his work day. He has a good job with excellent pay, because he doesn't belong to a union and is not bound to a collectively bargained employment agreement, which limits his pay to a figure approved by his union "brothers". Therefore, because of his superior marketable skills, as well as his skill as a negotiator, he makes better money than his unionized peers in other organizations. He has medical benefits, it's true. But this is not because liberal union members fought and died for it. (Another thing he didn't ask anyone to do for him.) It's because of U.S. domestic policy in WWII. Due to government policy, Juan learned in his private school, inflation grew both before and during WWII. As a “remedy,” caps on wage increases were imposed by the government. (Another financial set-back provided by your benevolent government.) In response, employers began to offer their employees health insurance to soften the blow and attract quality workers. ( WTF, mate? Imagine that: employers providing health care insurance, not because they were commanded by a benevolent government, but rather because of market considerations. Sometimes, it's an employees' market, not an employers' market. Again: WTF?) The federal government did not consider an increase in health benefits a violation of these wage controls, and the IRS (bless them for their infinite wisdom and generosity) ruled that health benefits were tax exempt for workers. After the wage caps were abolished, health insurance benefits became the norm and were not eliminated. Now, of course, these benefits, which started out as market driven benefits, are rights. And liberals want us to kiss their asses for (not!) procuring them for us. Thank you (relatively) free market.
It is noon-time and Juan needs to make a bank deposit so he can pay some bills. It's true that Juan's deposit is federally insured by the FDIC because some liberal wanted to protect Juan's money from bankers he determined were unscrupulous and ruined the banking system before the Great Depression. But Juan, again because he was privately educated, suspects that the liberal had no idea what unscrupulous actions the bankers took. Juan, on the other knows that the banking system wasn't ruined until after the stock market crash. Juan further knows that the stock market crash followed in predictable fashion on the heels of a great boom, a boom which was itself created by a fraudulent banking practice called "fractional reserve banking", which Juan, since he thinks its fraudulent, opposes. If banks were prohibited from practicing fractional reserve banking, he wouldn't need the @#$%ing FDIC. We wouldn't need the Federal Reserve, either, which would do away with inflation.
Unlike Joe the Republican (maybe!), Juan doesn't have a Fannie Mae-underwritten mortgage or a below-market federal student loan. Consequently he doesn't feel a duty to express gratitude to some elitist liberal who decided that Juan and the government would be better off if he was educated and earned more money over his lifetime--things which cost him (i.e., the elitist) nothing. Juan wonders two things: (1) Who the hell is the liberal to decide for him what would make him better off and then to force it upon him? and (2) Why do liberals, since they feel so strongly about it, not start their own mortagage and student loan companies and extend below-market loans to the objects of their concern? Better yet, he thinks, why don't liberals found, fund and operate their own free universities? You know: do something that actually costs them--and only them--their own @#$%ing money.
It is true that Juan attended a state funded university. But he attended it, not because it was state funded but because it was in a city he wanted to live in while he went to college. He'd have gone to that state funded university even if it were private. (He spent six years working his way through that university for his bachelor's degree; he'd have had no problem spending eight years working his way through a private one). Moreover, he'd have had no problem taking out a market-priced student loan, spending fewer years working his way throught school and paying the loan off from money earned from his improved employment conditions. Juan happens to believe that without state funding inflating both the costs of a university education, as well as the grades awarded by universities, there could be more private universities. This increase in the number of universities, all competing for students, would drive down the cost of a university education. (It's a supply and demand kind of a thing. A liberal wouldn't understand.) Finally, as a believer in privately funded university education, as well as personal generosity, Juan is a member of his alma mater's alumni association and gives as generously as he is able to financially support his university.
Juan is home from work. He plans to visit his father this evening at his farm home in the country. He gets in his car for the drive. His car is among the safest in the world. It's also a bit more expensive than it needs to be because it has features required by law he might not have wanted in the first place had he been asked. This, again, is because some meddling liberal fought for unreasonable car safety standards. As he drives out to his father's he remembers his great-grandfather's car that didn't even have seat belts because in those days, seat belts were optional; and his great-grandfather didn't think he needed them. Juan admits that he himself would have purchased them, but wonders what it would be like to live in a country where an adult is free to make such decisions for himself. What a country that would be.
He arrives at his boyhood home. His was the fourth generation to live in the house financed by three previous generations of capital accumulation--no inheritance taxes. The house didn't have electricity until Juan's dad was almost out of high school. It's true that some big-government liberal stuck his nose where it didn't belong and demanded rural electrification, which, naturally, cost the liberal nothing. The electric company ran the wires out there, but lost a lot of money because there were few customers: Juan's family and their neighbors didn't have shit that ran on electricity in the first @#$%ing place, and had no immediate plans to buy such things. But you can't expect your average, city-dwelling, big-government liberal to know shit about country living.
Juan is happy to see his father, who is now retired. His father, who lives on a farm, remember, lives on the money his still-productive farm generates for the family. Yep. His dad and mom handled their money well, making sure, as well as they could, that they could take care of themselves so Juan wouldn't have to. Not that Juan would mind: he loves his parents. (He knows there are liberals who think he shouldn't have to take care of his parents, but he doesn't care what they think. These are not their parents!) And it's a good thing his parents were smart with their money, too: Social Security don't pay squat. Who the @#$% can live off it? Certainly not Juan's parents.
Juan gets back in his car for the ride home, and turns on a radio talk show. The liberal radio host keeps saying that liberals are good and conservatives are bad. (Libertarians are probably worse than bad.) He doesn't mention that the benevolence bestowed by liberals like himself cost them nothing or, at most, a pittance. He doesn't understand why conservatives aren't grateful.
Juan muses aloud: "First they take our money, then return a fraction of it in the form of things we didn't ask them for. Then they demand our gratitude and call us hypocrites for living the life they have forced upon us. What the hell are we supposed to do? Rip out the seat belts? They have made it illegal not to use them. For this, we are to be grateful? Cabrones."
P. S. -- Joe Republican, who in Juan's opinion is almost as much a statist as any liberal, can speak for himself.
*********************************************************************
"The Life of Joe Republican"
by Hector Cruz
[Or; "How a Liberal Does Ad Hominem, Specious and Tendentious all in Seven Hundred Words or Less"]
Joe gets up at 6 a.m. and fills his coffeepot with water to prepare his morning coffee. The water is clean and good because some tree-hugging liberal fought for minimum water-quality standards. With his first swallow of water, he takes his daily medication. His medications are safe to take because some stupid commie liberal fought to ensure their safety and that they work as advertised.All but $10 of his medications are paid for by his employer's medical plan because some liberal union workers fought their employers for paid medical insurance - now Joe gets it too.
He prepares his morning breakfast, bacon and eggs. Joe's bacon is safe to eat because some girly-man liberal fought for laws to regulate the meat packing industry.
In the morning shower, Joe reaches for his shampoo. His bottle is properly labeled with each ingredient and its amount in the total contents because some crybaby liberal fought for his right to know what he was putting on his body and how much it contained.
Joe dresses, walks outside and takes a deep breath. The air he breathes is clean because some environmentalist wacko liberal fought for the laws to stop industries from polluting our air.
He walks on the government-provided sidewalk to subway station for his government-subsidized ride to work. It saves him considerable money in parking and transportation fees because some fancy-pants liberal fought for affordable public transportation, which gives everyone the opportunity to be a contributor.
Joe begins his work day. He has a good job with excellent pay, medical benefits, retirement, paid holidays and vacation because some lazy liberal union members fought and died for these working standards. Joe's employer pays these standards because Joe's employer doesn't want his employees to call the union.If Joe is hurt on the job or becomes unemployed, he'll get a worker compensation or unemployment check because some stupid liberal didn't think he should lose his home because of his temporary misfortune.
It is noontime and Joe needs to make a bank deposit so he can pay some bills. Joe's deposit is federally insured by the FSLIC because some godless liberal wanted to protect Joe's money from unscrupulous bankers who ruined the banking system before the Great Depression.
Joe has to pay his Fannie Mae-underwritten mortgage and his below-market federal student loan because some elitist liberal decided that Joe and the government would be better off if he was educated and earned more money over his lifetime. Joe also forgets that his in addition to his federally subsidized student loans, he attended a state funded university.
Joe is home from work. He plans to visit his father this evening at his farm home in the country. He gets in his car for the drive. His car is among the safest in the world because some America-hating liberal fought for car safety standards to go along with the tax-payer funded roads.
He arrives at his boyhood home. His was the third generation to live in the house financed by Farmers' Home Administration because bankers didn't want to make rural loans.The house didn't have electricity until some big-government liberal stuck his nose where it didn't belong and demanded rural electrification.
He is happy to see his father, who is now retired. His father lives on Social Security and a union pension because some wine-drinking, cheese-eating liberal made sure he could take care of himself so Joe wouldn't have to.
Joe gets back in his car for the ride home, and turns on a radio talk show. The radio host keeps saying that liberals are bad and conservatives are good. He doesn't mention that the beloved Republicans have fought against every protection and benefit Joe enjoys throughout his day. Joe agrees: "We don't need those big-government liberals ruining our lives! After all, I'm a self-made man who believes everyone should take care of themselves, just like I have."
Juan gets up at 6 a.m. and fills his coffeepot with water to prepare his morning coffee. The water is as clean and good as it was when his ancestors pumped it up from wells they dug themsleves without the help of tree-hugging liberals. With his first swallow of water, he takes his daily medication. His medications are as safe to take as ever because some smart capitalist, in addition to financing the research which brought the medication to market, also determined that knowingly, willingly and negligently killing customers isn't a workable business plan. He also knew that where he failed, one of his competitors might succeed, putting him out of business and his employees out of work.
All but $10 of Juan's medications are paid for by his employer's medical plan because some liberal union workers fought their employers for paid medical insurance - now Juan gets it too. Aside from the fact that he didn't ask for it, he also wouldn't need it if not for the insurance in the first place. You see, Juan is the curious sort who long ago wondered why the costs of just about every other good or service on the market has a tendency to go down, except for healthcare. Reluctant to take the word of people who give him things he did not ask for and then demand gratitude, he looked into the matter himself and determined that using the insurance model to pay for health care is one of the things driving up the costs--that and his government's dictate that there are no such things as pre-existing conditions. Then, too, are all the regulations which arbitrarily add to the cost of it all.
He prepares his morning breakfast, bacon and eggs. Juan's bacon is as safe to eat as it was when his great-grandfather and grandfather were growing pigs on the family farm in South Texas during the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Of course, now, thanks to regulations and all those other good things he asked no one to do for him, his pork costs a hell of a lot more than it did a century ago (adjusting for inflation, which was also brought to him by his government). Not only that, but thanks to all these regulations, and licensing fees, and inheritance taxes, Juan's ancestors could not today afford to go into farming in the first place, leading Juan to believe that the primary purpose of these regulations is, for the most part, to limit the entry of new competitors to the no-longer-very-free market.
In the morning shower, Juan reaches for his shampoo. His bottle is properly labeled with each ingredient and its amount in the total contents because some enterprising capitalist accurately forecast that consumers would have a preference for his product over his competitors' precisely because it was labelled. Juan, of course, doesn't really care as long as it cleans his @#$%ing hair, so he has no intention of expressing gratitude to anyone for it. He paid for shampoo that cleans his hair--label or no label--and he received shampoo that cleans his hair--label or no label. He figures that if he ever really wanted to know what was in his shampoo he could have called and asked the producer to email him a list. Or he could wash his hair, and the rest of his body with lye soap, like his ancestors. Again: he didn't ask anyone for this shit in the first place. After all, even if he could easily pronounce Dodecylbenzenesulfonate, he doesn't have a degree in chemistry so he has no @#$%ing idea what the hell it is, anyway.
Juan dresses, walks outside and takes a deep breath. The air he breathes is clean not because some environmentalist wacko liberal fought for the laws to stop industries from polluting our air but because the people who own those polluting factories discovered they couldn't breathe the shit in the air any more than people who don't own factories. On his view the liberals don't want clean air; they want purified air--or just fewer factories, which they will get due the costs of building and managing new ones. (You know, like oil refineries.)
He walks on a government-provided sidewalk because it's there, whether he wants it to be or not, whether he asked for it or not. If being lectured to by liberals--in addition to paying his taxes--is the price for walking on a sidewalk he didn't ask for, then he'd rather walk in the mud, like humans did for thousands of years without having to be made to kiss meddling liberals' asses for an alternative. (He smiles at the probablility that those humans who walked in the mud for those thousands of years would consider liberals to be whinning, snivelling little pusses. The Spartans would have killed them, or exiled them: dead weight.) As he walks, he shares the sidewalk with children on their way to the elementary school, supported at the local level by his property taxes and at the federal level by his income taxes. (His own children go to a private school, for which he foots the entire bill.) He tries not be too miffed that the people responsible for taking his money in the form of taxes then turn round and lecture him on the gratitude he owes them for what they have provided him at his cost and depriving him, in the process, of those things he might have preferred to spend the money on--had he been allowed to keep it and employ it as he, the earner of the money, saw fit. "Thugs and racketeers," he mutters to himself. "I wish they'd grind this sidewalk to powder and blow it up their asses."
As he stands in the subway car, tolerating his government-subsidized ride to work, he fondles the .45 semi-auto in his overcoat and hopes two things: (1) he doesn't get caught with it since his caring and benevolent government won't let him be responsible for his own safety without its kind permission (any more than it will permit him to be responsible for his own ride to work); and (2) he never has to use it (because his benevolent government doesn't exactly own and manage the safest subway system in the world). He politely smiles at the liberal standing next to him, lecturing him on the benevolence of the government, who takes money from people who for the most part never use the damn thing in the first place. The liberal demands gratitude from Juan for an opportunity he didn't ask for--the "opportunity" to be a contributor. The liberal says, "I object to people like you enjoying the benefits I and my ilk provide and criticizing us for providing them." He tries not to laugh too hard: this liberal don't provide shit; he's a @#$%ing fast food restaurant manager who receives tax credits.
Juan begins his work day. He has a good job with excellent pay, because he doesn't belong to a union and is not bound to a collectively bargained employment agreement, which limits his pay to a figure approved by his union "brothers". Therefore, because of his superior marketable skills, as well as his skill as a negotiator, he makes better money than his unionized peers in other organizations. He has medical benefits, it's true. But this is not because liberal union members fought and died for it. (Another thing he didn't ask anyone to do for him.) It's because of U.S. domestic policy in WWII. Due to government policy, Juan learned in his private school, inflation grew both before and during WWII. As a “remedy,” caps on wage increases were imposed by the government. (Another financial set-back provided by your benevolent government.) In response, employers began to offer their employees health insurance to soften the blow and attract quality workers. ( WTF, mate? Imagine that: employers providing health care insurance, not because they were commanded by a benevolent government, but rather because of market considerations. Sometimes, it's an employees' market, not an employers' market. Again: WTF?) The federal government did not consider an increase in health benefits a violation of these wage controls, and the IRS (bless them for their infinite wisdom and generosity) ruled that health benefits were tax exempt for workers. After the wage caps were abolished, health insurance benefits became the norm and were not eliminated. Now, of course, these benefits, which started out as market driven benefits, are rights. And liberals want us to kiss their asses for (not!) procuring them for us. Thank you (relatively) free market.
It is noon-time and Juan needs to make a bank deposit so he can pay some bills. It's true that Juan's deposit is federally insured by the FDIC because some liberal wanted to protect Juan's money from bankers he determined were unscrupulous and ruined the banking system before the Great Depression. But Juan, again because he was privately educated, suspects that the liberal had no idea what unscrupulous actions the bankers took. Juan, on the other knows that the banking system wasn't ruined until after the stock market crash. Juan further knows that the stock market crash followed in predictable fashion on the heels of a great boom, a boom which was itself created by a fraudulent banking practice called "fractional reserve banking", which Juan, since he thinks its fraudulent, opposes. If banks were prohibited from practicing fractional reserve banking, he wouldn't need the @#$%ing FDIC. We wouldn't need the Federal Reserve, either, which would do away with inflation.
Unlike Joe the Republican (maybe!), Juan doesn't have a Fannie Mae-underwritten mortgage or a below-market federal student loan. Consequently he doesn't feel a duty to express gratitude to some elitist liberal who decided that Juan and the government would be better off if he was educated and earned more money over his lifetime--things which cost him (i.e., the elitist) nothing. Juan wonders two things: (1) Who the hell is the liberal to decide for him what would make him better off and then to force it upon him? and (2) Why do liberals, since they feel so strongly about it, not start their own mortagage and student loan companies and extend below-market loans to the objects of their concern? Better yet, he thinks, why don't liberals found, fund and operate their own free universities? You know: do something that actually costs them--and only them--their own @#$%ing money.
It is true that Juan attended a state funded university. But he attended it, not because it was state funded but because it was in a city he wanted to live in while he went to college. He'd have gone to that state funded university even if it were private. (He spent six years working his way through that university for his bachelor's degree; he'd have had no problem spending eight years working his way through a private one). Moreover, he'd have had no problem taking out a market-priced student loan, spending fewer years working his way throught school and paying the loan off from money earned from his improved employment conditions. Juan happens to believe that without state funding inflating both the costs of a university education, as well as the grades awarded by universities, there could be more private universities. This increase in the number of universities, all competing for students, would drive down the cost of a university education. (It's a supply and demand kind of a thing. A liberal wouldn't understand.) Finally, as a believer in privately funded university education, as well as personal generosity, Juan is a member of his alma mater's alumni association and gives as generously as he is able to financially support his university.
Juan is home from work. He plans to visit his father this evening at his farm home in the country. He gets in his car for the drive. His car is among the safest in the world. It's also a bit more expensive than it needs to be because it has features required by law he might not have wanted in the first place had he been asked. This, again, is because some meddling liberal fought for unreasonable car safety standards. As he drives out to his father's he remembers his great-grandfather's car that didn't even have seat belts because in those days, seat belts were optional; and his great-grandfather didn't think he needed them. Juan admits that he himself would have purchased them, but wonders what it would be like to live in a country where an adult is free to make such decisions for himself. What a country that would be.
He arrives at his boyhood home. His was the fourth generation to live in the house financed by three previous generations of capital accumulation--no inheritance taxes. The house didn't have electricity until Juan's dad was almost out of high school. It's true that some big-government liberal stuck his nose where it didn't belong and demanded rural electrification, which, naturally, cost the liberal nothing. The electric company ran the wires out there, but lost a lot of money because there were few customers: Juan's family and their neighbors didn't have shit that ran on electricity in the first @#$%ing place, and had no immediate plans to buy such things. But you can't expect your average, city-dwelling, big-government liberal to know shit about country living.
Juan is happy to see his father, who is now retired. His father, who lives on a farm, remember, lives on the money his still-productive farm generates for the family. Yep. His dad and mom handled their money well, making sure, as well as they could, that they could take care of themselves so Juan wouldn't have to. Not that Juan would mind: he loves his parents. (He knows there are liberals who think he shouldn't have to take care of his parents, but he doesn't care what they think. These are not their parents!) And it's a good thing his parents were smart with their money, too: Social Security don't pay squat. Who the @#$% can live off it? Certainly not Juan's parents.
Juan gets back in his car for the ride home, and turns on a radio talk show. The liberal radio host keeps saying that liberals are good and conservatives are bad. (Libertarians are probably worse than bad.) He doesn't mention that the benevolence bestowed by liberals like himself cost them nothing or, at most, a pittance. He doesn't understand why conservatives aren't grateful.
Juan muses aloud: "First they take our money, then return a fraction of it in the form of things we didn't ask them for. Then they demand our gratitude and call us hypocrites for living the life they have forced upon us. What the hell are we supposed to do? Rip out the seat belts? They have made it illegal not to use them. For this, we are to be grateful? Cabrones."
P. S. -- Joe Republican, who in Juan's opinion is almost as much a statist as any liberal, can speak for himself.
*********************************************************************
"The Life of Joe Republican"
by Hector Cruz
[Or; "How a Liberal Does Ad Hominem, Specious and Tendentious all in Seven Hundred Words or Less"]
Joe gets up at 6 a.m. and fills his coffeepot with water to prepare his morning coffee. The water is clean and good because some tree-hugging liberal fought for minimum water-quality standards. With his first swallow of water, he takes his daily medication. His medications are safe to take because some stupid commie liberal fought to ensure their safety and that they work as advertised.All but $10 of his medications are paid for by his employer's medical plan because some liberal union workers fought their employers for paid medical insurance - now Joe gets it too.
He prepares his morning breakfast, bacon and eggs. Joe's bacon is safe to eat because some girly-man liberal fought for laws to regulate the meat packing industry.
In the morning shower, Joe reaches for his shampoo. His bottle is properly labeled with each ingredient and its amount in the total contents because some crybaby liberal fought for his right to know what he was putting on his body and how much it contained.
Joe dresses, walks outside and takes a deep breath. The air he breathes is clean because some environmentalist wacko liberal fought for the laws to stop industries from polluting our air.
He walks on the government-provided sidewalk to subway station for his government-subsidized ride to work. It saves him considerable money in parking and transportation fees because some fancy-pants liberal fought for affordable public transportation, which gives everyone the opportunity to be a contributor.
Joe begins his work day. He has a good job with excellent pay, medical benefits, retirement, paid holidays and vacation because some lazy liberal union members fought and died for these working standards. Joe's employer pays these standards because Joe's employer doesn't want his employees to call the union.If Joe is hurt on the job or becomes unemployed, he'll get a worker compensation or unemployment check because some stupid liberal didn't think he should lose his home because of his temporary misfortune.
It is noontime and Joe needs to make a bank deposit so he can pay some bills. Joe's deposit is federally insured by the FSLIC because some godless liberal wanted to protect Joe's money from unscrupulous bankers who ruined the banking system before the Great Depression.
Joe has to pay his Fannie Mae-underwritten mortgage and his below-market federal student loan because some elitist liberal decided that Joe and the government would be better off if he was educated and earned more money over his lifetime. Joe also forgets that his in addition to his federally subsidized student loans, he attended a state funded university.
Joe is home from work. He plans to visit his father this evening at his farm home in the country. He gets in his car for the drive. His car is among the safest in the world because some America-hating liberal fought for car safety standards to go along with the tax-payer funded roads.
He arrives at his boyhood home. His was the third generation to live in the house financed by Farmers' Home Administration because bankers didn't want to make rural loans.The house didn't have electricity until some big-government liberal stuck his nose where it didn't belong and demanded rural electrification.
He is happy to see his father, who is now retired. His father lives on Social Security and a union pension because some wine-drinking, cheese-eating liberal made sure he could take care of himself so Joe wouldn't have to.
Joe gets back in his car for the ride home, and turns on a radio talk show. The radio host keeps saying that liberals are bad and conservatives are good. He doesn't mention that the beloved Republicans have fought against every protection and benefit Joe enjoys throughout his day. Joe agrees: "We don't need those big-government liberals ruining our lives! After all, I'm a self-made man who believes everyone should take care of themselves, just like I have."
17 September 2010
Breath-taking? Where, on Mount Everest?
Breath-taking.
That's what Michael Gallagher calls Inés Sainz, recently, and persistently, in the news for objecting to being harassed by Jets. Apparently, some of the Jets had difficulty buying her as a serious sports journalist. More apparently, this guy isn't buying her as a journalist, either:
My favorite sideline reporter Inés Sainz was nice enough to pose in some bikinis for Esquire Mexico. You know, the country where the hotties who do our sideline reporting don’t pretend to be journalists, but come right out and show us what sexy POA they really are on a regular basis. Yeah, that country. Say, do we have a free trade agreement with Mexico for sideline reporters? If not, we should. I might just run for Congress on that platform alone.I assume "POA" means piece of -- well, never mind. I suspect the number of men who take her seriously as a journalist is not a very large number, maybe her dad and a few others. Maybe. "Mr. Guyism" doesn't really even take her seriously as a woman, or even a human.
She insists she was dressed appropriately. Naturally, so to speak. Sainz wouldn't be the only woman I've encountered in my travels -- and I've traveled -- who pretty much thinks that any way she dresses is appropriate. In fact, when most of these women have been honest they've as much as said that it shouldn't matter how they dress, men should always treat and respond to them the "right" way. If "the view" is causing them a problem, they should see to it themselves.
These conversations always put me in mind of the chapter on clothing in Marshal McCluhan's, Understanding Media. On McCluhan's view, and I tend to think he's largely correct, clothing is a medium, and it really does communicate. Women who insist that it never matters how -- or if -- they dress always deny, whether explicitly or implicitly, (at least when it comes to dress) that there is such a thing as non-verbal communication. "The way I dress", they invariably insist, "communicates nothing. It's just fabric."
The persistence of males' reactions would seem to indicate otherwise. Perhaps women have no intention of communicating anything in particular by their dress. Perhaps they do. But the fact that a message is unintentional doesn't change it. I learned that at a very young age, when I "flipped" someone off for the first time. I had seen two older kids do it to each other and laugh about it. But when I tried it -- intending it as a friendly gesture -- I must say I was quite surprised by the reaction I got. Specifically, a fat, bloody lip. (Followed by a reddened posterior later in the day when I explained -- well, demonstrated -- to my mother how I received said fat, bloody lip.)
For Sainz, and other females of her ilk, to dress provocatively and insist that males disregard any communication they think there are receiving is a bit like walking around in public with your middle finger extended and insisting that people disregard any message they believe they may be receiving. (In fact, I've done that.)
"But James," you say, "you know what they say: 'If you've got it, flaunt it.' " Right. And the way Inés Sainz dresses says, unequivocally, "I've got it." She's insulted that quite a few members of the Jets agreed with the proposition. We have a saying in spanish: "El hábito no hace al monje." Literally, it means, "The wearing of a habit does not make one a monk." (The english equivalent is, "The clothes don't make the man." The spanish has always made more sense to me. It's a nuance thing.) For one who is not a monk to wear a habit is to lie. For such a one to complain if his wearing of the habit convinces others and they treat him like a monk is foolishness. Inés Sainz wears the habit of a street walker, swaggers on the side-lines as if she should be the center of attention, then complains she's not treated with the respect to which a journalist is due. ¡Que pendeja!
Besides, I don't think Inés Sainz is really very beautiful, much less breath-taking. I've seen breath-taking, up close and personal: in 1980, in 1986, and in 1989.
Besides, I don't think Inés Sainz is really very beautiful, much less breath-taking. I've seen breath-taking, up close and personal: in 1980, in 1986, and in 1989.
"Eye Custodians" (tm): H/T to Curt Jester via Catholic Pillow Fight
28 May 2010
In honor of Ken Salazar, I'm thinking that my new nick-name for the executive branch of the unfederal government will be The Boot.
25 August 2009
Some things just change a man
Like suffering -- suffering can change a man. Or, the right woman.
On the other hand, so can the right food. Like Volcano Nachos. I'm not a big fan of Taco Bell: I grew up eating as "food" what most of you people call Mexican food. But I do really like this commercial:
Volcano Nachos...changes a man. Not since the days of the little chihuahuah, have I enjoyed a Taco Bell commercial.
Pero, no quiero taco bell.
On the other hand, so can the right food. Like Volcano Nachos. I'm not a big fan of Taco Bell: I grew up eating as "food" what most of you people call Mexican food. But I do really like this commercial:
Volcano Nachos...changes a man. Not since the days of the little chihuahuah, have I enjoyed a Taco Bell commercial.
Pero, no quiero taco bell.
05 August 2009
Seven Guys I'm Not Intimidated By
One "Married Jake" has a list of seven guys men are intimidated by. My personal sentiments are in italics.
1. Anyone who plays the guitar
I can't play the guitar. I can't do anything except for type and make guacamole. Ergo: I have always kept my women away from dudes with "axes."
1. Anyone who plays the guitar
I can't play the guitar. I can't do anything except for type and make guacamole. Ergo: I have always kept my women away from dudes with "axes."
Well, I also can type and make guacamole; and I don't play the guitar either. I started to learn in my youth, but was pre-occupied with saxophones and percussion -- which, I discovered, were as popular with the ladies as guitars. So, there you have it.
2. Dudes who can, like, change your valves
It's even worse if he's a guy who knows about cars and is all humble about it.
Well, I can do lots of stuff on cars, except things like change your valves. But I can do other things with my hands, things of a non-intellectual nature. (No, I'm not referring to sex. Get your mind out of the gutter.)
3. Your older brother
Please. I am the older brother.
4. Your friend's boyfriend
You know, the guy you always mention when we're being idiots. "John never does that to Jenny," you say. Man, when John comes around we're really on our best behavior.
I am the friend's boyfriend, or, in this case, husband. My wife's friends and co-workers don't believe half the stuff my wife tells them about the things I do for her. Ask her if she remembers (aside from the week before this past July 4 weekend) the last time she scrubbed the bathroom, or the kitchen floor, or did the carpets. Want her email address?
5. The kid you went to high school with and was your best friend for a while but you never dated because he was kind of nerdy but now he's gained some weight and is super successful and you realize you really missed out with that one ...
Am I the only one who has encountered one of these with every girlfriend?
Me again. Okay, not super successful, depending upon your definition of successful. But I was that nerdy kid. Thanks to some good coaching, and the Army, I gained some weight. Now, I'm still a bit nerdy. But I don't recommend doing as instructed should you ever see a "Kick me" sign on my back.
6. Marines
Man, a Marine started talking to my wife at a bar not that long ago. And I thought: that guy could kick my butt, tell a heart-rending story that would make her cry, and ask to be called "Captain" all at once ... I don't like him.
I wasn't a Marine, but I have it on good authority that my decision to join the Army was the Marines' loss. So, not very intimidated here, either. I, too, could kick "Jake's" butt and tell his wife a heart-rending story that would make her cry, but I'd have to ask to be called "Sergeant" instead. I would, however, be intimidated by a Green Beret or Navy Seal. Besides, I would never knowingly do or say anything to intimidate another man regarding his wife or girlfriend. For one thing, I'm married, so there'd be no point. (I don't know, however, that I could not unknowingly do so.) For another thing, to try to come between a man and his woman, in any way, is not demonstrative of love for one's neighbor.
7. Your father
Especially if he was a Marine, a firefighter and a mechanic who also plays the guitar.
He wasn't a Marine, a firefighter or a mechanic who plays the guitar. On the other hand, he wasn't that nerdy kid in his high school, where, as a matter of fact, he played on the football team, which I did not. (I was a runner.) Beyond that, I have no further comment.
There is, at least theoretically, one guy I could be intimidated by: a man who might treat my wife better than I do. That's the guy we all should be intimidated by. That's the guy who keeps me on my toes.
27 July 2009
Pelosi Drives America, or the other way around?
I know it's been going around a while, but it is funny. And I'm still just goofing off.
As a bonus, here's an announcement from His Beatitude's teleprompter:
As a bonus, here's an announcement from His Beatitude's teleprompter:
25 July 2009
Texas ain't for everyone
Got this via email:
I'm homesick again.
I don't know what all the whining's about. When I was growing up we didn't have an air conditioner.
Dear Diary
Just moved to Texas ! Now this is a state that knows how to live!!
Beautiful sunny days and warm balmy evenings. What a place! It is beautiful. I've finally found my home. I love it here.
June 14th:
Really heating up. Got to 100 today. Not a problem. Live in an air-conditioned home and drive an air-conditioned car. What a pleasure to see the sun everyday like this. I'm turning into a sun worshipper.
June 30th:
Had the backyard landscaped with western plants today. Lots of cactus and rocks. What a breeze to maintain. No more mowing the lawn for me. Another scorcher today, but I love it here.
July 10th:
The temperature hasn't been below 100 all week. How do people get used to this kind of heat? At least, it's kind of windy though. But getting used to the heat is taking longer than I expected.
July 15th:
Fell asleep by the community pool. (Got 3rd degree burns over 60% of my body). Missed 3 days of work. What a dumb thing to do. I learned my lesson though. Got to respect the ol' sun in a climate like this.
July 20th:
I missed Lomita (my cat) sneaking into the car when I left this morning. By the time I got to the hot car at noon, Lomita had died and swollen up to the size of a shopping bag, then popped like a water balloon. The car now smells like Kibbles and Shits. I learned my lesson though. No more pets in this heat. Good ol' Mr. Sun strikes again.
July 25th:
The wind sucks. It feels like a giant freaking blow dryer!! And it's hot as hell. The home air-conditioner is on the fritz and the AC repairman charged $200 just to drive by and tell me he needed to order parts.
July 30th:
Been sleeping outside on the patio for 3 nights now, $225,000 house and I can't even go inside. Lomita is the lucky one. Why did I ever come here?
Aug. 4th:
It's 115 degrees. Finally got the air-conditioner fixed today. It cost $500 and gets the temperature down to 85. I hate this stupid state.
Aug. 8th:
If another wise ass cracks, 'Hot enough for you today?' I'm going to strangle him. Damn heat. By the time I get to work, the radiator is boiling over, my clothes are soaking wet, and I smell like baked cat!!
Aug. 9th:
Tried to run some errands after work. Wore shorts, and when I sat on the seats in the car, I thought my ass was on fire. My skin melted to the seat. I lost 2 layers of flesh and all the hair on the back of my legs and ass. Now my car smells like burnt hair, fried ass, and baked cat.
Aug 10th:
The weather report might as well be a damn recording. Hot and sunny. Hot and sunny. Hot and sunny. It's been too hot to do Shit for 2 damn months and the weatherman says it might really warm up next week.
Doesn't it ever rain in this damn state? Water rationing will be next, so my $1700 worth of cactus will just dry up and blow over. Even the cactus can't live in this damn heat.
Aug. 14th:
Welcome to HELL! Temperature got to 115 today. Cactus are dead. Forgot to crack the window and blew the damn windshield out of the car. The installer came to fix it and guess what he asked me???
"Hot enough for you today?"
My sister had to spend $1,500 to bail me out of jail. Freaking Texas.
What kind of a sick demented idiot would want to live here??
Will write later to let you know how the trial goes.
I'm homesick again.
25 June 2009
More politicians should pull a Mark Sanford
And how I wish they would.
My wife and I had a slight, and friendly, disagreement over breakfast this morning about the revelations of Mark Sanford's mysterious disappearance over the weekend. Her position generally agreed with what seems to be the majority report on the issue: that the governor's absence would have been a grave liability in the event of some crisis, blah, blah, blah. I mean even the State Law Enforcement Division (responsible for his security) and his own staff couldn't reach him via mobile phone and text messages between Thursday and Tuesday. Why, one caller to the Limbaugh Show claimed that Sanford's absence left his state "in the lurch."
Heard somewhere in the state of South Carolina: Oh, my goodness. The governor's gone! What if there's a hurricane? What if the sky falls? What if the earth's temperature keeps rising?
Whatever.
My position is that no one (certainly no POLITICIAN!!!) can, or even should be so important that his mysterious absence would mean total disaster. An entire state in the lurch? Just because the governor is out of state, and out of touch with his staff? What are we saying here? That when the governor is away it's like a parent leaving the house for the weekend and the children unattended? Help! Social Services! (They're never around when you need them.)
Please. No one, certainly no politician, should be that important. And the fact that some are so should be a sign of something bad. An AWOL governor should be as frightening as missing a hole in one's head. Without condoning adultery, anyone should be able to just disappear for a bit if he wants to. Especially a politician. I wish more of them would.
Hey, whiners, listen up: If you don't need your parents anymore then you don't need your governor, either. And if you do need your governor, then you probably still need your parents, too. Grow up and start finding things more important to worry about than a missing politician.
My wife, incidentally, now agrees with me on this. Which she should. Because I'm right.
Now if I can just get her to surrender her position on the War on Drugs.
My wife and I had a slight, and friendly, disagreement over breakfast this morning about the revelations of Mark Sanford's mysterious disappearance over the weekend. Her position generally agreed with what seems to be the majority report on the issue: that the governor's absence would have been a grave liability in the event of some crisis, blah, blah, blah. I mean even the State Law Enforcement Division (responsible for his security) and his own staff couldn't reach him via mobile phone and text messages between Thursday and Tuesday. Why, one caller to the Limbaugh Show claimed that Sanford's absence left his state "in the lurch."
Heard somewhere in the state of South Carolina: Oh, my goodness. The governor's gone! What if there's a hurricane? What if the sky falls? What if the earth's temperature keeps rising?
Whatever.
My position is that no one (certainly no POLITICIAN!!!) can, or even should be so important that his mysterious absence would mean total disaster. An entire state in the lurch? Just because the governor is out of state, and out of touch with his staff? What are we saying here? That when the governor is away it's like a parent leaving the house for the weekend and the children unattended? Help! Social Services! (They're never around when you need them.)
Please. No one, certainly no politician, should be that important. And the fact that some are so should be a sign of something bad. An AWOL governor should be as frightening as missing a hole in one's head. Without condoning adultery, anyone should be able to just disappear for a bit if he wants to. Especially a politician. I wish more of them would.
Hey, whiners, listen up: If you don't need your parents anymore then you don't need your governor, either. And if you do need your governor, then you probably still need your parents, too. Grow up and start finding things more important to worry about than a missing politician.
My wife, incidentally, now agrees with me on this. Which she should. Because I'm right.
Now if I can just get her to surrender her position on the War on Drugs.
13 May 2009
Released Documents can be a study in contrasts
I'm not on the His-Beatitude-is-not-a-natural-born-American bandwagon, but it is interesting to note something about his response to "quo warranto" requests that he prove his citizenship and, thus, his fitness for office.
While he will release "torture" memos, and contemplate releasing "torture" photos, he won't take the simple measure of releasing his birth certificate:
While he will release "torture" memos, and contemplate releasing "torture" photos, he won't take the simple measure of releasing his birth certificate:
As Jerome Corsi, WND senior staff writer, explained, "The main reason doubts persist regarding Obama's birth certificate is this question: If an original Hawaii-doctor-generated and Hawaii-hospital-released Obama birth certificate exists, why wouldn't the senator and his campaign simply order the document released and end the controversy.
"That Obama has not ordered Hawaii officials to release the document," Corsi writes, "leaves doubts as to whether an authentic Hawaii birth certificate exists for Obama." (Here.)
I wonder why.
H/T: Seaspook
30 April 2009
Secession in our future?
Clifford Thies thinks so and argues on three grounds: the inalienable right of secession, the international law of secession, and the US law of secession.
Interesting article. And no, he isn't arguing that any state should secede, at least not yet. But I think it clear he believes the day will come, though not, perhaps in our life-time. I hope not. I don't mind belonging to a federal republic; but living in a unitary one is sure getting on my nerves.
This is sure to be added to my dossier at DHS.
Interesting article. And no, he isn't arguing that any state should secede, at least not yet. But I think it clear he believes the day will come, though not, perhaps in our life-time. I hope not. I don't mind belonging to a federal republic; but living in a unitary one is sure getting on my nerves.
This is sure to be added to my dossier at DHS.
25 April 2009
My kind of strip show!
Field stripping, that is.
A little FYI, here. Yes, you can try this at home. Make certain first that you clear the weapon. And you will know you've re-assembled it properly if the weapon racks and cycles. Pull the slide back then pull the trigger.
A little FYI, here. Yes, you can try this at home. Make certain first that you clear the weapon. And you will know you've re-assembled it properly if the weapon racks and cycles. Pull the slide back then pull the trigger.
08 April 2009
Made-for-TV movie of the year?
The story of the re-taking of the Maersk Alabama from Somali pirates could be it.
04 April 2009
Why is the rum gone?
It's clean out the pantry day at the Deviant Household. Seems Lady Deviant bought a bit too much and the pantry won't hold it all. Apparently, I have too many bottles of this and that (this=Captain Morgan's; that=Presidente Mexican Brandy). Apparently, the Bushmill's and the Svedka are not in the way.
Well, that's it for the rum. The rum is gone. Except for that flask back in the -- never mind: it's not in the pantry, so it doesn't count.
Did I say the rum is gone? Yes. I believe I did. But why? Why is the rum gone?
I have loved clean out the pantry day since I was a kid. Of course, in the Solís household there usually was only tequila.
Mmmm, tequila.
That reminds me: I wonder how that bottle of Sauza is doing.
Gotta go. The wife wants me to help with something. As if I'm not doing enough already. I mean, here I am, working my liver to the bone. Some people -- it's just never enough.
25 March 2009
Hump Day in The City
Now that I've read this, I still feel like goofing off.
So, as promised yesterday, your VJ presents two more. Today the theme is double: The City and Songs by Eagles members.
Wow. Don Johnson smoked his cigarettes the same way I did. Didn't know he was a fan.
One of the best songs on The Warriors soundtrack.
Oh, one more just for fun:
So, as promised yesterday, your VJ presents two more. Today the theme is double: The City and Songs by Eagles members.
Wow. Don Johnson smoked his cigarettes the same way I did. Didn't know he was a fan.
One of the best songs on The Warriors soundtrack.
Oh, one more just for fun:
24 March 2009
Considering a career change
Now, for something completely different.
This story has it that the changing economy has many people changing jobs. Frankly, I'm shocked. I thought the thing to do when disaster strikes was to stand around in your filth waiting for the omnicompetent government to rescue you. What this? Saving yourself? (Well, not quite: a lot of unfederal dollars are at work there.)
What's next? A return to capitalism?
Oh, well. Maybe it's time for me to pursue my childhood dream. No, not the dream of being a mercenary; my wife would never stand for that. No, I mean the other dream, of being a DJ. Oh. No. A VJ.
Here's two, back-to-back, just for you. It's a two-for-Tuesday sort of thing.
You may have missed the reference in the song to Tijuana. Interesting side-note: We lived there for a few years when I was a child. I have only the vaguest of memories.
Now, from the If-I-could-be-the-central-attraction-of-any-scene-in-any-of-my-favorite-movies Category:
Wow. That was kind of fun. Thanks for tuning in.
Tomorrow's Hump Day. Maybe we'll have to do this again.
Oh, what the heck. One more. From the If-I-had-a-band-I-would-so-cover-this-song Category (and, yes, that would be me on the drums):
This story has it that the changing economy has many people changing jobs. Frankly, I'm shocked. I thought the thing to do when disaster strikes was to stand around in your filth waiting for the omnicompetent government to rescue you. What this? Saving yourself? (Well, not quite: a lot of unfederal dollars are at work there.)
What's next? A return to capitalism?
Oh, well. Maybe it's time for me to pursue my childhood dream. No, not the dream of being a mercenary; my wife would never stand for that. No, I mean the other dream, of being a DJ. Oh. No. A VJ.
Here's two, back-to-back, just for you. It's a two-for-Tuesday sort of thing.
You may have missed the reference in the song to Tijuana. Interesting side-note: We lived there for a few years when I was a child. I have only the vaguest of memories.
Now, from the If-I-could-be-the-central-attraction-of-any-scene-in-any-of-my-favorite-movies Category:
Wow. That was kind of fun. Thanks for tuning in.
Tomorrow's Hump Day. Maybe we'll have to do this again.
Oh, what the heck. One more. From the If-I-had-a-band-I-would-so-cover-this-song Category (and, yes, that would be me on the drums):
19 March 2009
His Beatitude's Teleprompter comes clean, so to speak
The Teleprompter used by Barak Obama Epiphanes now has his own blog. Now, this is really convenient.
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