A tale of two crazies

I'm busy, but I have a small point to make.

Adam Lanza wanted to kill a lot of people, so he went to a school were everyone was unarmed.

Christopher Dorner wanted to kill a lot of police officers, so he went to the police station full of heavily armed police officers and opened fire.

Oh wait. No he didn't. I wonder why. I mean, the left keeps telling us that the presence of guns doesn't deter crazy psychopaths. If that were true, why didn't Dorner just attack the LAPD station?

Why should schools be any less safe?

Have I got a deal for you!

Want to be both disgusted and terrified at the same time? Well, have I got a deal for you! Check out the targets DHS is using to train cops to NOT hesitate (because cops are really known for showing too much restraint when it comes to shooting civilians). We have nothing to worry about, ya know, except being slaughtered by the law.

We are so fucked.

Christopher Dorner

This is exactly like the Iran/Iraq war; I hope they both lose. To clarify, since Dorner is the enemy of my enemy, that only makes him my enemy's enemy. He is nothing to me but an interesting news story. Yes, I hate cops, but I also hate aggression.

However, the LAPD is going to have a LOT more enemies if they keep shooting at every pick-up truck on the road. I'd be willing to be my pension that by the time this is over, the cops will have killed more innocent bystanders than Dorner will have killed cops/families of cops.

And please, let's stop with the "finest" and the "bravest" bullshit. That hasn't been the case in decades, and it will never be the case again. These thugs break into homes, kill dogs and the elderly (sometimes the bedridden paralyzed elderly), shoot kids in the neck while they're sleeping on the couch. They routinely step on both the constitution and our necks, but they're "so brave" they have to pump 40 rounds into the paper lady's truck, because the tiny Mexican woman in the Blue Nissan Titan looked eerily similar to the large black man in the Silver Toyota Tacoma. So brave they are, indeed.

If you're a cop in LA, you might want to start standing up for what's right and speaking out against the corruption. Because I have a feeling that when this is over and Dorner is dead, some of the families of the cops newest victims might take his methods to heart.

And chances are, they won't send a nice manifesto to help the cops figure out who to hunt.

So, to once again clarify, Dorner is not on my team. He doesn't represent me. I don't hope he is successful, I hope he fails. And the exact same can be said for the police. You're not on my team, you don't represent me, and I hope you fail.

Lysander's Ghost

I haven't been able to get a good recording of it yet, but here are the lyrics. I'll post either a video or a audio track within the next month or two so you can hear the melody and whatnot.

Lysander's Ghost

A man is nonetheless a slave,
Bound by shackles, whips, and chains
That gets to choose a new master every few years
Instead of being voluntary
They say this evil is necessary
To protect us from our temptations and our fears

They call our vices "crimes"
While making crimes their vices
And their "security" leaves us all afraid
We're forced to bow to their whims
They never answer for their sins
By force, by gun, we are kept in chains
It wasn't meant to be this way

(Chorus)
And Lysander's ghost screams to our souls
To not take back, but abolish control
For too long we've chose not to be free
Content with dying on our knees
And Lysander's ghost screams to our souls
To not take back, but abolish control
For too long we've chose not to be free
Content with dying on our knees

I contend all men are flawed
Falling short of the glory of God
Prone to corruption, temptation, and greed
Yet we grant men the right to kill,
Kidnap, assault and steal
To protect us from killers, kidnappers, rapists, and thieves
It doesn't make sense to me

(Chorus)

(Bridge)
No one can be trusted, no one believed
Everyone is suspect, 'cause all have been deceived
If no one is perfect, then no one should lead
No slaves and no masters, where all men are free

(Chorus)

A man is nonetheless a slave
Bound by shackles, whips, and chains
That gets to choose a new master every few years...

[ I took various quotes from Lysander Spooner and made them more lyrical to write this song. ]

So, yeah... Read this.

Read this. Go read it. I'll wait.

Did you read that? If there is any truth to this at all, we are fucked.

Not willing to kill Americans? That's the new litmus test.

It was fun while it lasted. Get safe.

Book and movie review

First, the book: The Joy of Hate by the always hilarious Greg Gutfeld. It's an in depth analysis of the beta-zation of America through repressive tolerance. And it's funny as hell.

I would excerpt some things for you, but I've already lent it to a friend. But he tackles the bullying issue, pointing out that the fact that everyone has been bullied means, logically, that everyone has done some bullying themselves. He also takes on the leftist idea of "tolerance means everyone agrees." He talks about working on the Death Star (Fox news), and how his liberal friends are treated when they appear on his show.

My suggestion: buy it, borrow it, download it, whatever. Read this book. As Gutfeld says in his intro, you may learn something, and at very least, you'll have read a book.

Movie review: Lawless

This movie is a rockin good time. It's about a 3 bootlegging brothers who are being squeezed by a corrupt DA and sheriff's department during prohibition. Tom Hardy (Bane in the Dark Knight Rises), Shai LeBeuf (I'm not going to look up how it's spelled. The kid from Transformers), and Guy Pierce (Memento, Count of Monte Cristo, Prometheus) make this movie fucking spectacular.

And I'm usually not a fan of the transformers kid. So that's saying a lot. He annoys me almost as much as Zachary Braff annoys everybody.

But anyway, the movie. An excellent unspoken point of this movie is that this is what happens when you make vices crimes. Vices are not crimes, they are simply means of self-gratification that people think differently of. Making a desired product illegal won't stop its production, consumption, or sale. It will only make violent people (gangsters and corrupt police officers [i.e. the ones with the most guns]) very rich, and a lot of peaceful people very dead.

Suggestion: worth the 1.25 from Redbox. Hell, I might even buy this one. The only downside of this movie was, like the DKR, I could only understand half of what Tom Hardy was saying. His accent in this movie causes him to kinda mumble sometimes.

The road to Celiac/Serfdom

I was rereading my post about having Celiac Sprue, and I wanted to add something, because the parallels to the paths we as a nation have taken are very similar.

When I was a young child, about 3rd or 4th grade, I was constantly in the nurses office complaining of stomach pains. Someone suggested to my mom that I might be lactose intolerant (I guess these were the days before "tests"), so for 3 years, I had to drink Lactose-free milk. Ever had it? It's gross. And the stomach pains were still constantly happening. So, one day in 7th grade, I said, "fuck this," and started drinking regular milk. The cramps were still there, but they weren't any worse now that I was drinking milk again.

My reaction? "I'm obviously not allergic to milk. So I must be fine!"

In my 9th grade year, my mouth broke out in fever blisters covering my lips and my tongue, swollen and bleeding gums, and difficulty swallowing. The doctor asked if I had been having sexual relations, which I had not (I wouldn't kiss a girl until I was 17), so he prescribed me some antibiotics and told me I'd be fine.

My reaction? "Hooray! I'll be fine!"

A year later, I was rushed to the emergency room with intense stomach pains. They were ready to remove my inflamed-about-to-burst appendix, but they ran an ultrasound first. "Huh. Your appendix is fine. Guess there's nothing wrong with you."

My reaction? "Hooray! There's nothing wrong with me!"

(By now, you may have already guessed where I'm going with this, but there's more.)

When I was about 21, I had more of the crippling stomach cramping. Mind you, the stomach cramps were constant to the point that I figured this is what everyone feels like, and I just might be a giant pussy about pain. "Ulcers? I don't know. Doesn't seem to be anything wrong with you. Cut back on sodas and junk food. You'll be fine."

"Hooray! I'll be fine!"

Finally, after my 28th birthday, I had an experience so painful, so embarrassing, and so utterly horrific, I thought I might actually have contracted the plague. This time, the stomach cramps were accompanied by the scariest thing I've ever experienced: blood. In my stool. Actually, that's quite inaccurate. Blood instead of stool. For three weeks straight. I kid you not, my boxers looked like they belonged to one of Sandusky's victims. There was no stool in my stool, just torrent after torrent of blood.

So I go to the doctor and explain my situation to him, and also mention that my mother had Crone's Disease. So they give me a colonoscopy (which is every bit as fun as you imagine it) to check for Crone's. This is how the conversation about those results went:

Doctor: "Well, the test came back negative for Crone's, so you should be ok."

(After 2 decades of being told that I'm ok, something snapped.)
Me: "Wait. I don't have Crone's, but I am far from fine. I shat blood for three weeks straight."

Dr: "You may have ruptured a hemorrhoid. Just a small amount of blood can turn the whole bowl red."

Me: "... Have you ever seen the exorcist?"
Dr: "..."
Me: "This wasn't a few drops. It was gushing."

Dr. "It might be irritable bowel syndrome, but honestly, that's just what doctors call stomach pain they can't explain."

Me: "Would IBS cause a 20 pound weight drop in two weeks?"
Dr: "I, uh, don't, uh, think..."
Me: "At this point, I don't care. Tell me I have cancer. Tell me I have aids. Just please, tell me what the hell is wrong with me."

Dr: "... You might be allergic to gluten."

Me: "Seriously? Gluten? Well, if you think it's a possibility, run the tests. Gluten? Really?"

Well, turns out he was right. But I never would have known it if I didn't demand to know what was wrong with me.

Likewise, for decades, politicians in Washington have kept telling us, "don't worry. You'll be fine." And for decades we said, "Hooray! We're gonna be fine!" Instead of getting a second opinion on our daily discomforts, we fell into complacency.

And once we did get that second opinion, oddly enough from an actual doctor, we called him a quack. We derided his common sense approach, his spot on diagnoses, and we ridiculed his prescription. We opted for a new-age cure of potions and ales brought to us by the most cunning of snake-oil salesmen, Barack Obama.

Now our condition is terminal. The doctor who could have helped us has retired. The cure we sought rendered us weak. How anyone can look at the constant stomach cramping, the weight loss, the fucking blood in the toilet and say, "Hooray! I'm going to be fine!" should strike anyone as crazy, but I get it. We don't want to hear the bad news.

But stage one cancer is much easier to fight than stage 4. Getting the bad news at stage one could've helped. Admitting that there is bad news when the tumor is inoperable doesn't help much at all.

That's why I'm suggesting the Cloward-Piven approach. We are past the point of saving this country. Take advantage of them. You and I know we would do just fine without the government's handouts, but if they're handing out your money, might as well try to grab some of it back.

I hope this metaphor worked for ya. It made sense to me.

*the reason I bolded that part about IBS was that it was the most honest thing I've ever heard a doctor say.*