Tragic Decay

Most of us won’t die instantly in an explosion of blood or a hail of gunfire. Most of us will decay. Most of us are already decaying. Most of us have been decaying for years.

We neither see nor expect explosions; exploding in blood is unexpected and sudden, and therefore tragic.

Like a beloved series that gets cancelled too soon versus a series that jumps the shark. The former is tragic because it was never given the opportunity to flourish. The latter is sad because it has outlived its potential.

There is more time to make necessary observations through decay than through explosion. Living a long life to its natural end is a beautiful blessing. Decay is the natural transformative process of beautiful life into timely death. Though potentially painful, decay is very much preferable to instantly exploding in blood because it allows for valuable introspection in a way exploding in blood cannot.

While decaying with retrospect we can become sad. Sadness is as natural—and contingent—as joy. It is normal to be sad when something concludes because it is joyful when something we like is happening. To earn joy we need to suffer through the sadness. This is a worthy trade-off; we can appreciate the joy more.

We can also appreciate our shelf life through the sadness of decay. It gives us the privilege of ample time to observe transformation and make necessary changes in our life (before it naturally ends). Decay illuminates our heart and mind to Truth, pinpointing the moments of joy and sadness on our inevitable march to death.

I know I said that decay is not tragic, but it is not never tragic. There are two exceptions.

Detroit

Detroit is a tragedy I mistook as a joke. Once called the ‘Paris for the West,’ the Motor City was the fifth largest city in the country in 1950. Cadillac, Ford and General Motors were produced there, providing good union jobs to many of its inhabitants. In the 20s people traveled from all over the country to work in Detroit’s auto industry. The city grew exponentially until the Depression, and then became known as the ‘Arsenal of Democracy’ during World War II as its industry turned from producing cars to producing weaponry.

Today Detroit is an apocalyptic wasteland. Crime and corruption are rampant and the city has been steadily losing population, any city’s lifeblood. From 2000 to 2010, 250,000 people left the city. Where once the city’s population was above 2 million, today it is less than 800,000. Cities usually have an upward, if bumpy trajectory. After the riots in 1967, Detroit has had a downward trajectory.

Only images of Detroit's former architectural glory can imply the depravity of violence and poverty that the poor city has descended.

What makes Detroit tragic is how is has slowly decayed from its former glory. Cities don’t have lifespans and do not die like humans do. Cities can only change. When they get sick, their death is not inevitable and they do not die mercifully. They toil in the agony of their decay mercilessly. It is the responsibility of the population of said city to observe its sources of decay and make appropriate changes to hamper it, and then reverse it. Cities are kept alive by the population that inhabits them, and the glory of a city reflects the population of the city. Cities only die when the city has been emptied its lifeblood.

Constantinople did not die; it was transformed by Muslim conquest and became Istanbul. (A different kind of tragedy.) Likewise Detroit cannot die, just change depending on the culture of the population that inhabits it.

Detroit grew into glory, then slipped into depravity. It has changed for the worse. Its problems are amendable with hard work and dedication, the ingredients that contributed to Detroit’s rise. Cities do not have to toil in decay permanently; they can change back. Cities are unlike humans in that they are reversible tragedies. Even cities as dysfunctional as Detroit are not without hope.

The Human Detroit

Humans are different than cities because they decay before eventually dying. Most humans decay naturally, but Caitlyn Jenner, the human Detroit, is decaying tragically because she chose to decay unnaturally.

Caitlyn Jenner is a “female” television personality and retired Olympic gold medal-winning decathlete. Caitlyn Jenner is 71 years old, but has only been a “female” for five years. This is because Caitlyn Jenner was once a man named Bruce Jenner, the epitome of male athletic excellence. He was in excellent physical shape and great physical health even up to his transitory surgery from male to female in 2015, at age 66. This unnatural and cosmetic transition from male to female is tragic, like Detroit, because of the unnatural downward spiral of its permanent transformation. Unlike Detroit, which has an uphill battle to return to a shadow of its former self, Jenner’s transformation is a permanent one; once surgically removed, genitals cannot be surgically restored for natural function.

Bruce Jenner cannot be expected to remain the same glorious shape that won him the Olympic Gold medal as he decays in his old age, and no one expected this of him. So why was it necessary for him to physically alter his gender during the course of his natural decay? This is especially tragic—and ironic—for a man that was once an Olympic athlete, whose glorious athleticism was a marvel of human achievement! (This could be an Andy Kaufman style joke taken beyond humor. It is the kind of sick joke made sicker because it is real.) Bruce Jenner’s athleticism is rare, and it glory should be respected until natural death, not altered by a mentally ill whim. That makes Jenner’s gender reassignment surgery an especially heinous crime. There can be no greater insult to his former self and mankind, than what he has done to his body.

Would it have been more merciful for Detroit to be leveled with a bomb (if no humans were harmed) and Jenner to have randomly exploded in blood before giving in to “gender reassignment” than let them each become examples of tragic decay?

Or is there a lesson to be learned?

Trump Wins

(Well, my last post did not age well and a new darkness has settled on the nation! Optimism is new for me, but I will maintain that darkness only exists because light exists, therefore all darkness is temporary, even if it lasts the extent of my lifetime…)

On Day Four of The Election I walked down the street and heard celebratory honking. (If you live in traffic like I do, you know the difference between angry, joyous even jealous honking.) A large girl walking beside me banged a wooden spoon against a pot, like a child allowed to stay up to midnight on New Year's Eve.  

"What's going on?" I asked. 

“Biden won!” she exclaimed.

“Oh,” I responded. “Did Trump concede?” 

She did not reply but banged on the pot and continued walking in the direction of the honking. Banging a pot is preferable to thinking or being informed.

Who can blame her?

The Complicit Media

The media arm of the Deep State Democratic Party (The NY Times, CNN, even Fox News) has lied to the people and declared Biden President-Elect. The election is not yet certified. This wishful thinking is childish and irresponsible, nothing but a show for Biden and Harris and their “supporters.” The legacy media’s authority, just like the news they report, is make believe. 

Two movies play simultaneously, and in the recent past viewers were able to choose which one they wanted to see. Today, the legacy media, the Deep State and now Big Tech does not give Americans this choice. Thus, they deepen today’s ideological divide.

When the truth comes out---and it always does---people will have two responses: disbelief/humility/forgiveness, or, more likely, cognitive dissonant violence. The mainstream media will mainstream “legitimate” rage, much like they did this summer….

A Term I Hate

“Deep State.”

It sounds fictitiously conspiratorial, like a term from The X-Files. But that show was not based on complete falsehoods. Even Eisenhower warned of The Military Industrial Complex.

Normies and lefties are lead by the legacy media to believe that the Deep State does not exist, and that anyone who does is ‘crazy, right wing, neo-nazi’ blah, blah, blah.

Just because legacy media does not acknowledge the ‘Deep State’ or use the term does not mean it does not exist. Like Cosa Nostra, the Deep State is very real.

When Trump announced his bid for the presidency in 2015 he declared war on the Deep State and thus became “Hitler.”

Who was responsible for the “Russia Collusion” investigation? Deep State Democrats. Who spread the lie that there was credible evidence linking Trump to Russia? Deep State media. What did the courts find? Nothing.

Why? Because there was nothing to find, and the Deep State is not everywhere (yet).

We do not live in China (yet).

Our country was designed by the people, for the people; not by the elite, for the elite. There was a very good reason the founders drew it up this way: to prevent the creation of a Deep State. Trump's victory would have made our founders proud.

Last Time

After watching Trump single handedly take down the entire Republican establishment in 2016, the Democrats sensed that they could lose their party to Bernie, who would lose the election to Trump, so they took the nomination from Spineless Bernie who was either blackmailed, extorted or paid off. Hillary, the insider, took the Democratic nomination as planned.

Hillary condescendingly called Trump supporters ‘deplorables’ in a Mask Off moment--the Deep State is still human—and Trump was elected instead. This was back when elections still had integrity because Trump’s adversaries underestimated his appeal.

This Time

The Deep State Democrats did not underestimate Trump's support in 2020, but their candidates were lacking in everything but name recognition. Due to the pandemic and the riots and Biden's lack of charisma, the 2020 campaign trail was meek when compared to 2016, and there was little fanfare until the debates. This was because everyone knew Trump was going to win handily; barring any legitimate scandals, incumbents tend to win. (And Trump won mathematically on election night.) 

So, like the primaries in 2016, they rigged the 2020 general election, with good reason: to prevent Hitler's 2nd term. However much power and control they think they had, they again underestimated their adversary: the American people, and Trump as proxy.

Trump does not give up because Trump does not lose.

The Game

Who gives up playing in the middle of a game? A loser.

What is Trump? A fighter. (And a winner.)

The election is a game that is still being played. Trump cannot be bought, intimidated or shamed into concession, despite the media’s attempts. (Also, the media does not matter.) He is not spineless Bernie. He is resilient.

The Deep State candidate could not win the election legitimately, and it does not want to give Trump a second term. The Deep State plays dirty because the Deep State is arrogant and owns the mainstream media. 

But Truth is humbling....

The causalities of this war are journalistic and political integrity and the precious American intellect. When power is at stake, everything is expendable.

"The New Civil War"

Some pundits stoke fear of a Civil war citing the ideological divide among our nation’s people…but ordinary people are a long way off from fighting one another in a Civil War. What would they fight over? ‘Systemic racism?’ ‘Trans Rights?’ ‘Police Brutality?’ Culture War is not the same as Civil War.

All Democrats can do is put the inevitable on pause: their election loss, the resurgent American economy, the triumphant return to tradition…

…the inevitable violence after the truth of the hand counted votes trickles out….

If CNN gives the command to ‘cut down the tall trees’ or ‘crush the cockroaches,’ who’s to say the useful idiots in my neighborhood wouldn’t heed the call? Who would dare wear a MAGA hat in a 10:1 Democrat neighborhood? Where can their aggression be focused? Innocent storefronts? 

Normal people don’t want to fight or riot. They want to be civilized, even if an election is not in their favor. It is the abnormal people to be wary of…the abnormal people radicalized by the media…

Who stands up for the normal people? (Even those that hate him?) Who never gives up? More importantly, who is our real adversary? 

Hint: Rhymes with Schmina...

I am an Election Worker

I worked the census and now I'm working the election and the government is Awesome. 

We take the government for granted. It's really not fair. The government doesn't have to exist. Just look at Somalia! Conversely, the government does not have to give us our right to criticize it. Just look at China! It does not have to be so nice.

Our government is so massive and so powerful. Some people are sexually attracted to individuals with power and I don't understand why. Is it because you can possibly have sex with someone who has power? Who cares?! Sex is overrated, like money. People think they have power because they have some capacity to make decisions for a short amount of time. It's laughable. Real power is all that matters. Power is Awesome. Just look at God! 

It's also definitely not gay to have a crush on the government. But I'm getting off topic again. That's not today's topic....

My favorite scapegoat, the news media, makes an excellent living selling fear. The legacy media says there is no fraud to worry about (unlike their claims of "Russian hacking" from 2016) and the underground social media says that there is potential for a coup if either candidate wins the election. Underground Social Media (USM) continue to break stories of fraud, finding ballots marked 'Trump' in a dumpster. Fear is exciting, so I bought into the 'Civil Unrest' hype because it is only going to be 2020 for a few more months. Time flies!

Only a tiny fraction of a fraction of idiots believe that violence is necessary for change to occur. (And the government gives them their freedom to believe that! How nice is that?!) The vaster majority of people disagree. They know that we must remain civilized at all costs, and that being civilized means being patient. They also realize that they can effect change on Election Day. Every. Year. 

Our government has given us the chance to change it every year since we've become a nation. It does not matter who gets elected so much as it matters that there is always an election, and there will always be an election. There will also always forces of evil that are trying to manipulate the outcome of our awesome free elections, whether it be the mafia, Somali immigrants, Russia, China, or the Deep State. 

The Board of Elections knows this. They are awesome. They know that we are "vulnerable." They live for preserving the integrity of every election because it is the DNA of our nation's tradition. And they aren't stupid like people scoff. People are just jealous they aren't as massive or organized. (Being a free government is hard! Cut them some slack!) 

Government bureaucracy, normally a punchline, is our most effective weapon against any potential threats to undermine our free elections. Every aspect of the voting process is secured to the point where poll workers cannot tamper with ballots if they wanted to! Each voting site is managed by a BOE coordinators, invisible heroes of integrity. Assuming they form a network of apostates to rig the election is ludicrous because time is finite and their workload for such an immense undertaking would increase 100 fold. Humanly impossible. They report to a higher manager anyway, who would also have to turned apostate and form a shadow organization for this scheme to work, and on and on up the chain, which stretches beyond any of their sights. The BOE is distinct from other agencies, and has multiple branches within itself. (The mafia was based on such a design.) For integrity sake no one person knows more than they need to do their very specific job. 

This is not Africa. To organize some kind resistance to cast fake presidential ballots would require a rival organization the size and scope of a government. The clandestine Deep State cannot even measure up. They are too small, and the BOE has too much security in the form of other government organizations, like FBI and the NYPD. Honestly, the 'Deep State' feels more like media fear mongering than legitimate threat. 

Trust me, if our government on its whole wanted to crush its people it can. Just look at China. We should be very grateful that they don't, while still criticizing them wherever necessary. 

I'll be sure to post my Election Day diary.

Have Hope! It is more exciting than fear! It is going to be 2021 in a few months. 

The greatest insult

Labelling someone as a 'racist' was once an effective way of discrediting their opinion by way of insult, assuming the 'racist' was also a coward. No longer. 'Racists' now know they could be attacked for their opinions, and voicing an opinion that could make one a martyr is called courage. (Or stupidity depending on threat level.) The more timelessly searing insult is coward, which cannot be reasonably applied to any so-called 'racists.' 

Unlike the political nature of the 'racist' insult,  the coward insult directly strikes at a person's pride, the source of all sin. Dimensions of cowardice go beyond superficial intersections of race and gender politics; it probes a person's being: their psychology, behavior, personal history, fears, desires, hopes, loves, dreams etc etc. 

Anyone embarrassed to do a good deed is a coward. Breaking up over the phone is cowardly. Lying is cowardly. Stealing is cowardly. Adultery is cowardly. Facebook opinions are cowardly. (Blogs too.) Apologizing for 'racism' is cowardly. Anti-racist protest groups Antifa and #BLM are cowards. (They are overwhelmingly supported by celebrities, corporations, contrarian politicians and the mainstream media. Low information public opinion is loudly on their side. It is therefore easier to protest violently when there is no opposition or risk of arrest/death. Then they self-congratulate themselves for "speaking truth to power" when true power would never give these protestors a platform to speak "truth," let alone a pat on the back. Just sayin') Selfishness is cowardly. An armed officer running away from an active shooter in a high school is a coward. Aborting the pregnancy is cowardly. Littering is cowardly, if fun. 

We all know the reason: cowardice is easy and ease does not earn respect. (Everyone wants to be respected.) On the other hand, heroism requires sacrifice while cowardice demands comfort; heroism is chosen by few and cowardice enslaves many. 

As long as we are human, the power of the 'coward' insult can never diminish, and when used tactfully, with love, it can peacefully--if slowly--soften hearts of stone. 

When I first started talking to people in front of Planned Parenthood, I found that the clients of the clinic willing to have frank conversations surprised me with their moral opposition to abortion. It was the rare circumstances of rape and incest that they reluctantly felt that the woman had 'the right to choose.' (Less than 2% of abortions by the way.) Because this is a politically neutral position, it is a cowardly position. Abortion is a moral question first, and a political question second. The line in the sand has been drawn. On one side of the line is life, and on the other side is death. There is no option for both; they logically cancel each other out. In the case of grave moral evil neutrality is always cowardice. 

Though rape is an act of evil, terminating a pregnancy i.e murdering an innocent fetus, is also evil. Evil ought never be done for the sake of good because it logically cancels out the good. People know this truth, even if, out of pride, they won't admit it. 

This truth is written on everyone's heart, but our culture of death is upheld by a population of cowards. Abortion always kills an innocent life, and that life never chose its method of conception. No 'buts' about it. If you do not like abortion but are still pro-choice, you are a coward. If you are content with being a coward, you are a coward with a heart of stone. Humility is the only antidote for cowardice. (I pray that no one has to meet their maker/commit a grave evil before they accept this.) 

To stem the risk of the greatest insult losing its full potential, I use it sparingly, sometimes with levity. Love sometimes takes time to work, and God knows that rarely is a heart changed instantly. But calling someone out on their cowardice can certainly hasten some on their journey!

Happy Respect Life Month! 

Irony!

In undergrad I learned about Marxism, Communism, Feminism, Islam. We read the SCUM Manifesto (Society for Cutting Up Men), the Cyborg Manifesto, and learned about the heroic intellectuals of the Frankfurt School. 

I regurgitated explanations of these Marxist theories to prove to my professors that I did the readings and understood the material because my grades depended on it. But I also accepted these ideologies as 'facts' because I was a naive kid. Years of public school and the desire to be 'cool' had punctured a hole in my self-esteem, allowing my faith to slowly leak out without my detection. These ideologies were like air, and I was like a balloon; eventually I popped from living them to their ultimate conclusion.

Flash forward ten years: Marxism is the common denominator for all social work theories too! (So they claim!) The only difference is that nowadays there is a mega emphasis on the racism of white people, mostly cis white conservative christian people. 

My professors are all well meaning people with good hearts and a misguided political/moral bent towards the losing Left. They've been brainwashed too....they are just as naive as I was (though they definitely did not make the life choices based on Marxist ideology like I did).

It is ironic. The reason I went back to grad school specifically for Social Work was to learn how to apply practical methods of repairing and reversing the destructive trends of so-called 'Progressivism.' I am not surprised (just disappointed) that I am (again) paying to learn all the glorious forms of Marxist inerrancy; the exact attitude that brought our society to this brink of the cliff in the first place! 

...I am here for the same good reasons as my peers. Except this time I have the chance to show my professors that I did the reading, understood the material and found it to be fake and gay. 

Eating My Words: "Psychology is Bullshit"

On June 14, 2019 I wrote a scathing entry on this blog regarding the uselessness of psychologists. Fourteen months later I am in school to become a Social Worker. (That post reminded me of listening over and over and over to a '30 Seconds to Mars' song that I claimed to "hate.") So, what happened?

Simply put, a lot. (Too personal to post bluntly and publicly.) But briefly (and obviously): there is a Culture War, and I have chosen a side. 

What follows are current responses to past excerpts:

"There are certain types of people who do not need medication and could benefit from psychology, like troubled high schoolers. Troubled youth fit two criteria for psychology to have a positive affect:

1. they have bad friends and don't know it 
2. they don't respect their parents enough to take their advice"

^^^Ok, ok, in retrospect I was describing myself back in high school, when I did not yet realize that I'd joined the wrong side in the lead up to War. SO MUCH SO did I want to go back in time to change my past, but Time doesn't work that way, and I couldn't admit an interest in pursuing the next best thing: stopping kids from making the same mistakes.

"A psychologist might be the role model they need only insofar that the troubled youth are trusting enough to be honest about their feelings. Then they can accept guidance while they talk themselves out of their own problem *if* they have a value system. (The psychologist cannot provide them with a value system if they lack one; another reason it is bullshit.)

^^^This is the brief job description of a Social Worker working with at risk youth, not a psychologist. (I did not know that Social Work attainable profession because I had not reconciled myself to return to Graduate School when I wrote this.) Both professions have a Code of Ethics (value system).

"Talking through a problem is helpful. Talking to a good friend is more helpful. A good friend does not need an advanced degree to offer good advice because they have an understanding of the troubled person and equally importantly, context. They know the troubled person well enough to offer tailored advice, and might be respected enough to humble the troubled person enough for them to listen to unsolicited advice."

^^^Yeah, well, just because they are friends does not mean they can give good advice. A person with an advanced degree in human behavior and psychotherapy with a trauma specialization can give good advice however.

"No psychologist, no matter how advanced their degree, can will someone to listen. Only money can do that. Then again, anyone that offers advice in exchange for money and time cannot be trusted to care for you the same way that a good friend can, and does."

^^^Thus is the human condition. But you are still paying them to try, and with their expertise they will do their best, if their patient is willing to be serious. 

"Good advice shouldn't cost money. Confession, after all, is free."

^^^Confession is a sacrament. Not everyone is religious, let alone Catholic. For a conversion to take place, hearts need to change, which takes time. Broken people can be guided towards conversion when their hearts have softened enough to listen. Thus my role in the War ;)

Opinions change. I like having written mine down so I can publicly hold myself accountable. 

ideologies: religions of modernism

For a period of about 27 years, I did not think; I acted.

And at that, I acted only towards an assured self-destruction.

If there was a Truth, it did not dawn gloriously upon me like a 'Born Again' Christian will attest. It was more like a consistent and steady blow to the face, knocking me out every time I got back up to make another equally dumb mistake. What knocked me down was a mystery, but somehow I knew that I had to keep getting back up. Persistence might be a virtue, but I was persistently wrong.

(In a way, it followed masochism: exciting at first, then tiresome, and finally, humiliating. But unlike a true masochist, this humiliation was not pursued for its own sake, and I eventually rediscovered something called My Dignity.) 

This Truth, if that’s what it was, did not need be so painful. (That was my fault.) Apparently, it could even be freeing. (And it was--after the fullness of it’s realization quintupled my pain and suffering. (And that was just the beginning.))

But looooong before The Quintupling, in the early days of discovering that my brain could be used for more than finding the easy way out of work I disliked, I discovered fragments of the Truth in the form of ideas: the precursor to actions.

Ideas were these things that people said, that then caused them to act. Sometimes, if people said the right things over and over enough, they could actively turn abstract ideas into physical objects, like airplanes or swords or buildings or pizza. Sometimes abstract ideas 'became' non-physical, like laws, or elections, or governments or TV shows. Sometimes they didn't become anything. They remained equations on a chalkboard, or scribbles in a notebook. These ideas weren't bad, they just weren't complete yet. (However, some bad ideas were complete.)

For the first time in my life I became interested in the world outside of limited experiences with the people I knew personally. I listened to and read all different kinds of ideas without any concept of context or consistency. From these thought perusals I’d recalled some past topics I'd heard referenced in the college classes I'd attended with my eyes closed, and a light bulb went off in my head. 'Ohhhhhhh!! So that's what they meant by abortion/illegal immigration/global warming/atheism/feminism/the Iraq War/social justice/socialism/gay marriage!' (Yet somehow, I'd still earned a degree from a liberal arts college.) But making connections and forming opinions from this flurry of ideas was confusing and overwhelming. It became easier to simply repeat what I'd learned on Talk Radio (other people’s ideas), which was fine because I realized that I didn't know enough of anything to form opinions of my own. Yet.

After spending time among all these varying ideas with no guide I discovered the first truth: that all ideas were not created equal. Pizza was great, but socialism was not. Buildings sometimes collapsed when planes rammed into them, and some people thought that governments were responsible based on complicated—and conflicting---material evidence. Some people thought such attacks were deserved, and others thought no acts of violence were ever deserved by innocent people. 

With so many facts to sift through, I had to take an expert's word, as I was not an expert myself. But experts in all disciplines contradicted one another, and I wondered: how can truth be discerned through disagreement?

Ideologies were the easy way out of this conundrum. An ideology was a compilation of ideas that formed a framework for truth, but not the Truth itself. In other words, an ideology was an easily applicable label for any layman—myself included—that needed a cause to give their meandering life purpose. Laymen—myself included--were happy to be on ‘the right side of history’ by labeling themselves an ‘-ist.’ In those early days I very much enjoyed going to verbal war with opposing ideologues like my Dad, using the facts I was spoon-fed from other, more cleverly disguised ideologues from Talk Radio. A “conversation” between two ideologues was a back and forth of talking points, and I’d smirk, knowing how to verbally parry my opponent, charitably letting them finish what I already knew they were going to say. They would threaten to punch me in the face for being the type of ‘-ist’ they were trained to hate, and I'd smirk again, begging for it. 

Ideological adherents don’t recognize their own thoughts because they take facts at face value from entertainment professionals. They are trained with what to say when they hear a “fake fact' from the opposition, as well as how to determine if a fellow layperson is The Opposition, deserving of rebuke: they disagree. 

A talking point was not a thinking point. I was persuaded by a seductive speaker and conditioned with guileful phrases to trip up my ideological opponent when we inevitably crossed paths. (Mainstream media is an ideologue factory!) Packaged with some facts was the arrogance that my opponent was wrong, and I was right. By design this adrenaline fueled these heated “conversations.” Without any understanding of the Truth, I unknowingly became a repository and mouthpiece for someone else’s ideas, a means for someone else’s ends. Talk Radio was only slightly different than state school. And here I’d thought that I was thinking!

More time spent among the warring ideologies proved that each contained truth fragments, but fell short of reaching the Truth, usually because ideologies disproved one another, in an endless loop of disputation. The essence of every ideology takes a fragment of Truth--namely through the virtue of Justice--to build a framework. Many good people fall for ideologies, committing and believing evils in the name of Justice/their ideology of choice. Often this is because ideological factoids have replaced Truth. 

Facts were not the Truth. I could learn facts and the Truth would still knock me down. Facts merely reached for the Truth--some having more truth in them than others--but they were too often conflicting and confusing (and politicized) to be anything more than fodder for ideological fodder. The Truth humbles all who approach it. The Truth sets us free from a dead guy's ideologies from the 19th century because the Truth never changes. The Truth isn’t on any quest to be right, as the Truth just is right. The Truth doesn’t need to humiliate opponents with some cherry-picked facts. The Truth Is.

Ideas alone couldn't guide me towards Truth. Gatekeepers—for mysterious, but predictable reasons--built an ideological wall that kept those searching for meaning from reaching the Truth. 

So how do we free ourselves from this ideological narrative? How do we escape ideology? How can we have our own ideas, rooted in Truth, Beauty and Goodness?

Pray

Trashy Realness

While quarantined I didn't see many "Real" people. 

I'd walk around my hometown--a quaint, quiet suburb--and see people with nice smiles and nice haircuts, dressed to impress as they were out-and-about (or as out-and-about as possible, given the circumstances), walking their dogs and watering their lawns. I'd see contestants on reruns of Jeopardy, some YouTubers with "jobs" unaffected by the P A N D E M I C, multi-millionaire celebrities on TV pretending that "we are all in this together."

All of these people were "real" insofar as they existed in space and time, but there was something fraudulent lurking beneath this alleged calm and content perfection. P A N D E M I C aside, there was a hidden brokenness that the simulation of their appearance always concealed. 

Always and everywhere people are broken despite their immaculate looks, lawns or fortunes. And as natural as nature itself, so is an individual's tendency to conceal their inherent brokenness. That being said, the falsity of stereotypical suburban appearances was generally not my type to befriend, even if to discover the truth of someone's brokenness for curiosity sake.  

My true remaining friends were indeed broken, and as I knew the intimate secrets of their lives I knew what caused their brokenness, which in turn made them relatable. Like my suburban neighbors, they also did their best to cover up their brokenness. Their 'best' was of a makeshift preference, and I found myself leaning more towards the personality that their appearance belied. My friends were Real. 

But a person's true "Realness" is dependent upon their willingness to admit to God the ways in which they are broken and the methods they are employing--through Him--to reach completion. In the way that everyone is striving for completion, everyone--regardless of their appearance--is broken.

Possibly it was this superficial suburban mask that lead me towards the "Real" environment of the gritty inner city all those years ago. A place I once deemed to contain the "Realness" that I thought would teach me the lessons of life that were not teachable in a suburbia full of simulacra. For me, realness was defined by strife and poverty and only attainable by living among those afflicted. To become real, I needed to suffer--but ultimately overcome by birthright--self inflicted strife and poverty. I resented my good fortune and needed to humble myself of it. 

This resulted in my downward spiral into Trashiness that lasted for several years.

After just having spent time among people that did their best to look decent, I remembered what it was like to be decent, and I returned to the inner city following suburban P A N D E M I C living bestowed with a hyper awareness for the various types of Trashiness that exists in space and time. Without friends or a job there was nothing to do in the city but be a flaneur while binging on snacks, and I could not help but use my eyes to observe the Trashy trends of modern humanity. 

"Trashiness" is as old as love and war, but the term--coined within my lifetime--has also gone from scorn to vogue within my lifetime, partially thanks to the liberalizing fashion trends of millennial hipsterdom. In the recent past Trashiness may have been an economic and sometimes psychological question, but now it is an anthropological question. There are two observable types of Trash: "Real" Trash and Vogue Trash.

Some of those born into poverty wear their poverty on their sleeves, or lack thereof. Because I do not befriend a majority of those that I stare at, I can only observe and judge (never condemn) based on their appearance. A person's appearance is the first thing--and often the last thing--that people notice about one another while passing them by. As a wanderer, this lead me to the revelation of what makes a person look Trashy despite economic status: tattoos, obesity, excessive piercings, excessive jewelry, loose clothing, untrimmed facial hair, open wounds, energy drinks, flip slops with socks, exposed midriffs, 'wife beaters,' corn rows, dreadlocks etc. How Trashy a person lives is a speculation based upon their appearance. That is not to say that appearances without the above characteristics do not live Trashy; the stereotypical 'frat bro' might dress like a golfer but live like as an alcoholic in his own filth.

You may read my incomplete list and think that I am an impeccable and insufferable snob. Possibly. (Hopefully.) But I have credentials that add weight to my opinion, having once been Trashy myself. 

Back when I was a hipster, I dressed Fashionably Trashy: I wore tight jeans with stains on them, big black boots, colorful children's jackets and bright pink girl's sweaters that I found in my hipster neighbor's garbage. I had horn rimmed glasses to role-play as a sloppy scholar. I dreamed of getting a tattoo on my chest and considered buying a grill, like various rappers I respected. 

I also lived like Trash: I drank frequently and heavily. I retarded myself from finding upwardly mobile employment, preferring to work dead-end, minimum wage jobs. I was lazy. I was promiscuous. I was not contributing to society in a meaningful way but instead chose to live life at the bare minimum, actively trying to destroy the good fortune I had been blessed with in a naive effort to become "Real."

Therefore, with perfect clarity I can now observe that standards of beauty have only fashionably fallen to below the poverty line; both elegance and beauty are not in the eye of the beholder. For instance, stains can never be elegant. Stains and tears reflect sloppiness and poverty, the historical opposite of elegance. I don't have to know anything about fashion trends to understand true beauty. Beauty is more than skin deep, and elegance is how a person conducts themselves. Beauty does not change with time and true elegance barely changes with time. 

Therefore, tattoos are the antithesis of elegance and will always be Trashy. Hipsters are temporarily capable of making them fashionable, but fashion is flaky. Hipsters are incapable of living forever and redefining the timelessness of elegance.

But, in our age of abundance, we have, for irony's sake, entered into an abyss of elegance. 

For example, trendsetters like Cardi B and Post Malone are rich and trashy. Each came from impoverishment and rose to fame and fortune with their musical talent. However, neither aspired to elegance or class, but instead stayed "true to their roots" aka "Real" and kept the irony bar high and the fashion bar low; Post-Malone with his face tattoos and corn rows, and Cardi B with her massive, disgusting peacock tattoo and fake boobs. They use their appearance as shock value to sell their music. When the money runs out, they will still be trashy. When time runs out, they will still be trashy.

(I miss the old days, when Jenny from the Block forgot where she came from because she went somewhere better. Nowadays, rappers with trashy taste drape themselves in jewelry and shower themselves in tattoos. All types of Trash are banging on the walls of J.Lo's fortress, forcing her to remember.)

Likewise, trendy hipsters with ugly tattoos that come from suburbia only dress the part of Trashy Outsider to attain "Realness." (In actuality they are a Hip Insider that is more "Fake" than their suburban simulacra alter ego.) They roleplayed as impoverished, while ironically improving the neighborhood and pricing out their working class fashion muses. In the end, when they are all done living in the city, they will choose to return to the suburbs from whence they came to live in elegant comfort, away from the crime and the poverty. 

Even in summer humidity, covering up your body for decency sake is instinctual. Not so if one is either category of modern Trash; they are somehow inclined to reveal puffy parts of their bodies, smeared tattoos and infected piercings. The class excuse is that the Classically Trashy don't know how to attempt elegance. Trashy Hipsters know, but choose not to. 

So long as Classically Trashy people are still the majority of inner city occupants, there will be little detectable elegance. In the way distant past, before J Lo, the working poor aspired to--and achieved elegance--every Sunday in Church. Trash Chic is a modern phenomenon that has equally impacted both groups.

Publicly revealing your brokenness in the form of Trashy attire, whether it be ironic or legitimate, does not make a person Real. Being "real" can never be expressed with fashion, whether based on trends or impoverishment, because truly being Real is something that only God can judge. And to be truly real is to be humble and contrite. To be genuine about your shortcomings is not something that can be worn. 

One lesson that I learned from my suburban upbringing, and the reality that I was reacquainted with during the quarantine, was that people in the suburbs proudly wear their virtue on their sleeve, even if they cannot measure up. 

Transphobic now {NSFW}

Getting the job interview was difficult enough. 

To ensure that I earned myself a follow up interview I scrubbed the internet of my social media presence. When combined with my professional (and likable) demeanor, that precaution worked, and I made it to the second round: the awkward group interview....

Of the five worthy candidates, one was a trans female. Naturally I googled the names of my competition at the interview's conclusion, and as the trans person had a unique name I was able to find their photography portfolio quickly. 

The subject of the portfolio was her nude body; only a black censorship bar hovered over her genitals. She was otherwise posed in explicit and compromising positions, bending herself over and stretching herself out to maximize sex appeal by accentuating her curves to make herself look as female as possible. Messages from users of an online dating site captioned each image, to demonstrate the difficulties a trans person faces when dating. Discrimination is expected when anyone dates, and transsexuals experience it one billion fold. 

From an employer's perspective the entire portfolio was inappropriate. My first thought was, "How did this person make it to the group interview with this gallery so easily located?" My next thought was, "The standards for this job must be very low." Then, my brain began to judge this person's nude body. (Don't want people to judge you? Don't put nude photos of yourself online.) Her breasts were small, estrogen enhanced bubbles that did not look believably female, and her nipples were puffed unnaturally. Her body was doughy, like mine was as a pubescent middle school boy. (Clearly this person did not believe in exercise or nutrition.)

What was the purpose of this photo shoot? To convince a straight male such as myself that I could find a trans female attractive? That, behavior and personality aside, I could date a trans female on looks alone? I was morbidly curious for what lurked beneath the black censorship bar (probably not its intended purpose). From an "art" perspective the entire project was a cringey and confusing failure, lacking thoughtfulness in exchange for superficial provocation. Finding a similar portfolio from a male or female applicant would be equally unprofessional and equally inappropriate, but I would not find it viscerally disturbing. 

After I closed the gallery I understood "transphobia." Then promptly and unapologetically, labeled myself a "transphobe." I did not feel ashamed by this label, nor did I feel pressed to undo this newfound "bigotry." It was a natural response to the lie I had been told: that trans-women were women. 

This trans-woman was not a woman, and no photographic technology could ever be deceptive enough to make me believe that this male was doing anything more than role playing as a female by showing off her body. (A woman would only pose in a lascivious position as directed by a male photographer anyway, because only a man knows which angles a fellow man can completely lust after the female form...exactly the way this "trans woman" was self posed!) I did not feel any animosity towards this person, or any desire to physically hurt them like the transphobe label suggests. (I have no desire to physically hurt anyone.) Instead, I felt a deep sadness for them. They want to be something that is not in their nature and will never be in there nature, in much the same way I once wanted to be a big shot film director. 

My self labelled transphobia is neither a real phobia, nor a reasonable fear. (A reasonable fear of transsexuals would be disagreeing with them en masse at a protest.) "Transphobic" is the silly term I will gladly own to describe the visceral disturbance when my soul, in anguish, cries out that something is deeply wrong with this person. Something is deeply wrong with our culture when this type of behavior is not seen as the mental disorder that it is. 

Whether a person wants to believe it or not, everyone has a soul...and those that are made numb to visceral disturbances--to the point where they celebrate one's ability to choose their own disturbance--may be politically correct, but they are morally incorrect.

Admitting I am wrong politically doesn't somehow make my opinion permissible by transsexuals, whose philosophical relativism is a one way street. No, to be correct politically I must celebrate a person's chosen disturbance. But my soul will not let me, as this nightmare demonstrates:

I was having anal sex with my black boyfriend. I couldn't see his face, only the beads of sweat on the back of his bald head.

He was moaning with pleasure, but something was very wrong. 'I'm not gay,' I thought. 'Why am I having sex with this man?'

"You can fuck my pussy," my boyfriend said. Something was very wrong indeed. "Yeah, fuck my pussy," he said again. It was now an order. I obeyed. I didn't want to be a bigot. I took my dick out of his ass, but before inserting it into his pussy I stared into it.

The pussy was a gaping wound where his penis used to be. Ragged, bloody edges looked sawed off with a serrated knife, and dilapidated chunks of red and white flesh hung from the sides of the cavern. His pussy was deep in darkness...strands of mucus hung from the pussy walls, connecting the two sides. I could see a small pile of entrails way in the back of the cave of his pussy.

'I don't think I'm gay,' I told him.

What is one to do when their instincts are so warped that they choose to mutilate themselves to superficially become the opposite gender? When everyone they talk to celebrates and enjoins them to follow their instincts, regardless of how unnatural and dangerous they are?

Pray

The Bandwagon

(Today I had to browse Facebook's housing group to find a new roommate at the same time that #BlackLivesMatter is trending. As expected, everyone in my feed reveled in their politically correct opinion, which gave me ample fodder for rebuttal.)

The culture war is scroll-able on Facebook, the nerve center of cringe. As expected, it is a gallery of virtue signalers posing in front of rallies with their new puppies, and white kids talking about how much they love and adore Malcolm X. It's repulsion is overwhelming. (And the reason why I stay far, far away.)

One particular dialogue struck me not for words exchanged, but for the difference in profile pictures. Both men were the same age, and knew each other from "back in the day," but one of them was posing with his wife and two young children, while the other was posing on the Williamsburg Bridge, alone.

I "know" the latter through the film and tv production scene in New York, where he had a reputation for being a flirtatious philanderer and dating a young, attractive actress in the ballpark of 12 years his junior.

Their exchange included the same tepid talking points that are less common now that everyone, due to the boredom of quarantine, has jumped on the #BLM bandwagon. That's not the point. The point is the opposites of their viewpoints are representative by their profile picture: tradition vs progress.

The traditional man has a family, and his traditions will live through them, even after his death. The progressive does not have a family, and has instead replaced it with hedonism and a career. (Clearly the trad man also has a career.) If the prog does not have a family, his values will die with him. If he does have a family, they will inherit his traditions, which sooner or later all lead to self annihilation. Leftism's ultimate purpose is to end the family.

It may sound far fetched. After all, #BLM is about freeing black people from the evils of white racism so they can prosper on their own, right? The Black Lives Matter website aggressively advocates for human rights until the bottom of their 'about' page:

We disrupt the Western-prescribed nuclear family structure requirement by supporting each other as extended families and “villages” that collectively care for one another, especially our children, to the degree that mothers, parents, and children are comfortable.

We foster a queer‐affirming network. When we gather, we do so with the intention of freeing ourselves from the tight grip of heteronormative thinking, or rather, the belief that all in the world are heterosexual (unless s/he or they disclose otherwise).

Whoever is really in charge of the 'leaderless' Black Lives Matter movement has a sick sense of humor. Children need love that the family unit naturally provides, not some idealistic hippy commune, or some ghetto project. (Extended families are good, but for that to succeed it needs to come from a cohesive family unit: a mother and a father.) 70% of black children--if they are born--are born to unmarried couples. These last two paragraphs of BLM, if followed, would further decimate the already fractured black family tradition that undoubtedly produces more George Floyds than David Dorns.

'Queers' (whatever that means, I don't know--its definition keeps changing) don't procreate. The 'tight grip' of 'heteronormative thinking' is the sole reason that every society exists today! Families beget families! Queers are a champion of leftism because they end families!

According to BLM, traditional families are antiquated and unnecessary. The human race is progressing beyond them, into communes, or tribes. (Without white people.) Is that progress, or regress?

The only way that leftism can continue is if leftists borrow time tested family values from their traditional rivals to produce families to pass their values onto. That, or media and education persuasively brainwashes adherents to "live your own truth." Families are destroyed further down the generations.

Anything that subverts tradition creates dysfunction, and whoever is really in charge of BLM knows that destruction of the family makes people weak and compliant.

Take Minneapolis, ground zero. It is a liberal city, in a liberal state, and the police act accordingly. While protests would be justified if the officers were not charged, the overreaction of the protests and the council is unprecedented. The city council's next step is to foolishly disband the police. The leftist council believes that this is in the city's best interest, but the chaos that will inevitably ensue is of a grander design. People cheer for success, but success, in the case of leftism, is slow, generational rot ....it is not your freedom, and never was. It is about their power. The real 'tight grip' of life is leftism.

I can't be mad at people for jumping on the justice bandwagon. I once did too.

But tradition will win out in the end, because tradition is wired into our biology. The progress of leftism is not. Unfortunately, many innocent people will die for the cause of good intentions, like they did in China, Russia, Cuba....Leftism is comprised of slow motion suicide cults. Only tradition will survive.