Better Start Bailing

Here is an update on my son.

Can I call him my new son or baby son now? He’s over a year old, and they say any small child over a year old is a toddler, but I still tell him he’s the baby. The baby man.

He can’t really talk yet. He wears diapers. Baby.

He continues to be extremely advanced with regard to everything but talking. Runs, dances, jumps, walks backward, squats and picks up tiny things between his thumbs and index fingers, climbs…you name it. While he doesn’t really talk, he has conversations with us using gestures, expressions, and noises.

Sometimes when I tell him “no,” he stands and stamps his foot and grunts to show he’s not happy, but he always obeys. Eventually.

Morning before last, it seemed like he said “red” and “close.” One of his toys lit up a red button and said “red,” and he said something that sounded like “red.” He loves opening and closing doors, and the same day, he followed his mother into the bathroom, closed the door, and said what she thought was “close.” He imitates singing.

For a while, he has been doing things you usually expect to see at about two years. I have written about him freaking doctors out. Also, he is very tall, and we are hoping he remains tall because tall men have easier lives, as long as they’re not too tall.

I am not concerned about his speech, because he’s not late, and as long as everything else is going well, there is not much of a relationship between intelligence and the time a baby starts to speak. Personally, I don’t think it interests him much. He whistled when he was a few months old, and then he quit because it didn’t interest him, so it may be that he is the same way about speech.

I’m not going to let myself obsess on his intelligence, because intelligence is not very high on the list of things that make a successful child of God. My own intelligence has not been all that helpful in life, and many people who are close to God have been more successful than I in every way, with less mental horsepower.

He is still very, very cute and charismatic. I have written about how people fawn over him on our weekend Costco and grocery outings, and they are still doing it. There are 4 or 5 Costco ladies who come over and talk to him every time they see him. The place is always full of babies, but the others don’t get this kind of attention.

Now that he interacts with people, grinning and doing his arm-waving “happy salute” when they wave at him, they get even more pleasure out of talking to him.

We take him to baby gatherings at the local library, and the employees read books, sing, use puppets, and let the kids play with toys. He behaves very well, but he is not like the other children. He runs around constantly. The other kids generally stay up front with the herd, but he runs around the entire room.

I thought he would stay close to his mother because he adores her and doesn’t like being separated from her, but he ran off and left her.

He pushes things over. He loves pushing things, so he grabs chairs and pushes them around the room. He approaches adults and just assumes they love him. He tries to grab purses off chairs and tables. He goes to the exit doors and pounds on them. He grabbed an American flag and pulled it over.

We were the only parents there who stood up and said “no” to their child, so we know the problems the other kids are likely to have later. It’s amazing that people have learned nearly nothing new about raising kids since the dawn of time, while they have forgotten so much.

People say babies are curious, so when I tell them about him, they say it’s normal, but they haven’t seen him. He is clearly not like most kids. His abilities and energy stand out. We keep getting him toys and interacting with him, but he is insatiable. He is always finding our things, running off with them, and playing with them.

I take things away from him so often that he now tends to drop whatever he is holding, or hand it to me, whenever I appear.

I bought a new TV with an annoying remote that has a trackball and projects a moving shape onto the screen to select options. Every so often, when I sit down, I’ll see the shape moving around, and I’ll know my son is somewhere in the house playing with the remote.

The other day, he grabbed a toilet brush and tried to clean the toilet. That was upsetting.

He’s not hyperactive. A hyperactive kid can’t behave. He’s just smart.

He’s still very strong. He lifted two 5-pound dumbbells off the floor. When he pummels us with his hands and feet, it actually hurts. He doesn’t do it with hostility. He just loves to wrestle and roughhouse.

He can get into our upper bathroom cabinets now, so we had to get more baby locks. He can use almost every doorknob. Our house has lever knobs, and they make it easy.

I’m going to have to get a pool cover, because in a month or so, he will be able to open the back door. I hate the pool, because a pool is a sucker amenity, but we can’t make it go away, so we will just seal it off.

We’re trying to get music lessons for him. He shows some interest in music, and he needs things to fill his voracious mental appetite. His mom is talking about finding a swimming class, which she also needs.

I’m very grateful. The world is full of suffering children and parents. So many kids have physical and mental problems that crush their parents’ hearts. We are no more deserving than those parents, but God has been very kind to us. I keep praying God will use us to heal kids. I am horrified by the problems I see out there. It makes me feel helpless because I can’t say a prayer wherever I am and heal them. It makes me hate this world more than ever.

I keep asking God to help us receive blessings in fear and humility, and never to show off. We are pardoned criminals who live on an allowance. On God’s charity.

The dangers of showing off have been driven home to me. Our car is starting to be impractical. We’re excited about the possibility of buying a minivan. Not a Mercedes or some other kind of glamor wagon. I have realized God hates ostentation.

Proverbs 17:5: “Whoso mocketh the poor reproacheth his Maker: and he that is glad at calamities shall not be unpunished.”

Galatians 5:26: “Let us not be desirous of vain glory, provoking one another, envying one another.”

Luke 14:8-11:

When thou art bidden of any man to a wedding, sit not down in the highest room; lest a more honourable man than thou be bidden of him;

And he that bade thee and him come and say to thee, Give this man place; and thou begin with shame to take the lowest room.

But when thou art bidden, go and sit down in the lowest room; that when he that bade thee cometh, he may say unto thee, Friend, go up higher: then shalt thou have worship in the presence of them that sit at meat with thee.

For whosoever exalteth himself shall be abased; and he that humbleth himself shall be exalted.

I try to receive in fear and humility regarding our son, and I ask God to help me with this, because I can’t generate perfect humility on my own. Pride will always bounce back, to my disgrace. I want God to keep blessing my son, and I want him to protect the next one.

Whatever blessings my son has received came from God, in spite of my long history of wickedness and in spite of the evil my wife has done.

The main thing I want to write about, however, is love. This house is soaked with it.

When I was a kid, my sister and I were afraid of my dad. We didn’t run in terror every time he came home, but we didn’t want to be around him, either. It’s good for a child to have a healthy fear of his father, but it has to be part of an intense, loving, comfortable relationship. It’s important for a father to take a hard line sometimes, but when my dad was harsh with us, usually, it was not out of concern for us. It was because we had gotten on his nerves. Someone broke a glass. Someone stood in front of the TV.

My family never prayed together, studied the Bible together, talked about God, or went to church together. What a horror. No wonder things went so badly for us.

I didn’t pray with my dad until he was 86, and he died when he was 87.

We pray in the morning with our son. We pray in the evening with him. He’s in the room while we watch Christian videos. I speak blessings over him and his mother. We speak blessing to God when we eat. He sees us on our faces, worshiping.

My wife and I have conversations about our son’s welfare. What to do next. Where we are failing. My parents didn’t do that.

We play with him a lot. I have the priceless luxury of being with him, and so does his mother. She takes him for walks, on his own feet. I sit down and play with his toys.

He loves playing with us. He brings us his giant Walmart ball, and we bounce it around. His new thing is to make me take his Fisher-Price popper toy. He has a little stuffed chair with a dinosaur face on it, and he sits in it and watches me run the toy around the floor. If I stop, he goes to get the toy and hands it to me again.

He has been kissed so much, it’s a wonder he has any skin left. He has been squeezed so much, it’s a wonder he isn’t covered with bruises.

He screams with joy, many times a day.

We are not doing things as well as we should, and I ask God to help us do better, but my son’s upbringing so far has been infinitely better than ours.

Because the family I came from is a failure, and because I am a recovering failure, our new ways and blessings are hard for me to get used to. My mother lavished me with love, but her relationship with my sister was a war from the time she was a toddler. My sister was impossible to get along with. I had many affectionate moments with my dad, but generally, he was very selfish, childish, and unfair. And he also had a hard time warming up to my sister, or, rather, he warmed up to her at first, and then their personalities ruined it.

I have never lived in a house of love before, and it’s a first for my wife, too. My son, on the other hand, has no idea what a dysfunctional family is like. He will never know what it’s like to feel alone because his family hasn’t introduced him to God.

Outside of this house, I have never seen a family that wasn’t dysfunctional, and that includes the Christian ones. Having one of my own is an extraordinary experience.

It’s all because of prayer in tongues. Order and success in a family come only from alignment with the Holy Spirit, and you only get his help if you pray in tongues. Otherwise, you are limited. It’s like going to Disney World and not using the rides.

We try to align ourselves with each other here on Earth, but it’s the wrong approach. We are supposed to be aligned with God. Any two people who are aligned with God are automatically aligned with the Holy Spirit. This is why Yeshua is called the Prince of Peace. Peace is simply order.

We are not particularly good people. We don’t go on mission trips to India and Africa. We don’t run an orphanage. We don’t go into prisons and baptize people. We have faults. We sometimes argue a little. We’re not doing all the things many Christians think bring them God’s blessings, and we sometimes do things that are counterproductive. Nonetheless, things are going extremely well. It’s because we are taking the supernatural approach, making God our head.

The frustrating thing is that people we are desperate to help argue with our testimony.

We know people whose families are terribly screwed up. People who are suffering because of bad choices. People with lingering problems. If I tell them they need to pray in tongues more (axiomatic, since the word says it builds us up), instead of agreeing with me, some of them blaspheme the Holy Spirit instead. They want to convince me that what I know didn’t come from God and that God doesn’t give us the kind of help my wife and I received.

They can’t explain our blessings, however, or the fact that they’re doing so poorly in spite of being right about everything.

When you attribute the work of the Holy Spirit to Satan or deluded men, you blaspheme the Holy Spirit. This is what religious Jews did when they said Yeshua had a demon. He raised the dead and healed the sick, and instead of getting behind him, they said he used the power of Satan.

Cessationism is blasphemy, and so is claiming to be charismatic while scolding other people because they truthfully say they have received supernatural help from God.

It’s a variant of cessationism. It’s such a huge sin, Paul told us to avoid people who did it. He didn’t say to be inclusive and nonjudgmental and that such people were our brothers and sisters.

In his second letter to Timothy, Paul lumped the God-deniers in with the greedy, brats, slanderers,and despisers of good:

For men will be lovers of themselves, lovers of money, boasters, proud, blasphemers, disobedient to parents, unthankful, unholy, unloving, unforgiving, slanderers, without self-control, brutal, despisers of good, traitors, headstrong, haughty, lovers of pleasure rather than lovers of God, having a form of godliness but denying its power. And from such people turn away!

Here, the language translated “despisers of good” means “those who don’t love good.”

The word translated as “power” is dunamis, which, in the context of the above passage, is the miracle-working power of God, as well as all of his other abilities to help us.

There are many people out there who make up stories about what God has done for them, and there are many people who spread false revelation, but people who pray in tongues a lot, read the word, and seek humility are not like that. God will allow delusion, but he’s not a jerk. He doesn’t make supernatural help impossible, and he doesn’t allow counterfeits to be so good there is no way to find the real thing. If you pray in tongues and seek humility and revelation, he will guide you. If this were not true, there would be no hope for us, because the system would be completely rigged.

Arrogant Christians are in love with their strongholds. They love their pride. They love defending themselves instead of admitting fault. They love pointing to all the things they’ve done “for God.” They’re like Eagle Scouts who think their sashes and badges entitle them to kowtowing and deference. “I used to wax Jimmy Swaggart’s car!” “I was head deacon with a special red vest when you were still going to strip clubs!” They’re so arrogant, they can’t see their arrogance.

Old wineskins.

This is why Yeshua bypassed religious leaders and called fishermen and a tax collector.

When God shows you helpful things, and people who are in real trouble reject your testimony because they’re afraid you’ll stop thinking they are holier than you, it is extremely frustrating.

If you’re doing everything right, why is your life a mess? Isn’t it possible that a person whose life has improved drastically knows more than someone who is miserable and shows no sign of progress?

One of the worst things about Christianity is that it convinces people they are above correction. “We’re smarter than the Jews.” “We’re smarter than the awful people at the church across the street.” “The old guys who came up with our doctrine two thousand years ago were smarter than the old guys who came up with your doctrine 500 years ago.”

We’re exactly like the Jews of Yeshua’s time. Just as wrong, and just as arrogant.

Just as determined to blaspheme the Holy Spirit and glorify men.

What about me, being sure so many things I’ve been shown are right? Well, I got that by obeying the Bible. I got it the same way Paul did. The way he recommended we do it. I prayed in tongues for years. I didn’t get it by worshiping St. Augustine, who worshiped pagans. I didn’t get it by worshiping Kenneth Hagin and memorizing everything he said. I didn’t take courses at my last two churches, which were run by a con artist and a child rapist.

When I fell away for a time and wasn’t praying in tongues, I didn’t get revelation, and I had problems I don’t have now.

I don’t make things up, and I don’t claim I figured anything out. I had a genius IQ all of my life, and I was a fool for most of it. I ruined most of it. I could not figure the answers out. God had to spell things out and spoon-feed me. He still does.

I don’t say I’m right. I don’t say I should be given deference because I “got saved” decades ago or because I have put in thousands of pew hours. I say God is right, and that he has been getting through to me in spite of my immaturity and pride.

Saying these things is not arrogance. It is humility. Attributing your success to yourself and hard work is pride.

There is not one person in the Bible God rewarded for hard work. There are many he rewarded for admitting they were weak and letting him help them. There are many who were destroyed because they were proud. Consider Nebuchadnezzar and the dream of the tree.

In the Bible, hard work is always a curse. It was one of the first curses God pronounced on man, in Genesis. Hard work convinces you that you are the source of your blessings. It makes you your own God.

God preferred Mary to Martha.

Yeshua was more certain of his beliefs than any other man who ever lived. Does that mean he was proud? He had no pride whatsoever.

As the Bible says, humility, not mission trips or fasting or collecting church titles and enormous bejeweled hats, is what brings God close to us and causes him to help us. If you don’t know that, you have missed one of the three or four most important lessons that make Christianity work. You’re barely a Christian.

I always find that life is like being on a wide sea in a small boat, with many other boats around me. I’m doing fine, at last, but almost all the other boats are sinking, and when I try to help the people in them, they push me away and tell me they already have the answers.

If the analogy were really complete, they would be pulling their boats up beside mine, throwing buckets of water into my boat, and telling me they were trying to save me.

So I could be as blessed as they were.

Every day, we pray for God to keep people who won’t listen away from us and to bring us the people who will. It is discouraging and painful to watch people sink while you’re trying to tell them how to float.

Would Yeshua Dance to Her Music?

So supposedly, Nicki Minaj is Christianity’s new ambassador to the world, and the Christian Broadcasting Network is her new ride or die b____.

Sorry for the choice of implied words, but it serves to illustrate how insane this story is.

Nicki Minaj is a very whorish woman. She performs sexually explicit “songs” about fornication.

Let’s take a look at some of her lyrics.

Yeah, high heels on my tippies
Dolce and Gabbana, that’s on my t__ties
Cop me Vetements when I ride the d__kie
I still got the juice, b__ch, buy a sippie

More:

I got a call, told him, “Meet me in the backstreets”
Got out the Jeep just to f___ him in the backseat
I’m not impressed, I said, “Yo, the D mad weak”
Hit my niggas up, I got him robbed and that ass beat

More:

This dude named Michael used to ride motorcycles
It’s bigger than a tower, I ain’t talking about Eiffel’s
Real country Anaconda, let me play with his rifle
P-P-Put his butt to sleep, now he calling me NyQuil

“Yo, the D mad weak” means her companion’s work with his member is unsatisfactory.

Is fornication still wrong? A lot of Christians seem to think not. In the Bible, God equated it with abomination, and he hasn’t published a retraction, so who is right?

“But now she’s a Christian! She has changed, and you shouldn’t judge her!”

Oh, really? Find me a story that says she has repented of producing whorish entertainment. Show me where she has told girls and women to stop listening to her music and to quit fornicating and acting like whores. It must be out there, right?

No, it mustn’t. She still performs her filth, and she has not told anyone else to quit supporting her act.

What makes you a Christian? Calling yourself a Christian? People who called themselves Christians murdered American Indians and claimed the Pope had said they had to convert or face war, slavery, and the confiscation of their land.

Jim Jones was a preacher.

Try again.

Does raising your hand in church and answering an altar call make you a Christian? Does it bring you eternal salvation? Megan Fox went past these things, received the baptism with the Holy Spirit, and prayed in tongues. Now she is emasculating her three sons, who wear dresses and claim they’re girls. Is she a Christian? Do you think she will be saved if she dies before she repents?

Miley Cyrus used to be a church girl.

In 2 Peter 2, God makes it clear that you can lose your salvation and be worse off than if you had never had it.

Why are ignorant Christians suddenly praising a notorious slut?

Christians are persecuted, as we all know. Here in the US, Christians who don’t know the Holy Spirit persecute those who do, stifling their voices and driving them away from churches. In Muslim countries, even nominal Christians who don’t actually know God are persecuted. Churches are burned. People are murdered.

Nicki Minaj, though unchanged, has started calling herself “God’s anointed,” and she has been speaking up for persecuted Christians in Nigeria. She just spoke at the UN.

A millennial hipster with the obligatory beard and a hyphenated last name just put up a video for CBN, expressing approval. No mention of the horrible damage Minaj has done to women, millions of whom have surely gone to hell under her continuing influence.

In the comments, people who think they are Christians are saying things like, “I support Nicki Minaj!” They’re saying they’re fans now. FANS.

It’s the “don’t judge” cult, once again. The adherents of the two-word Bible. Never criticize anyone. Never name names. Hang out with sinners no matter what they do, because Yeshua hung out with sinners.

It’s idiocy. It comes from trying to make Yeshua popular by denying his essence and undoing his work.

Yeshua will never be popular during this age. He has never been popular. People need to get this through their heads. He said the world would hate people who belonged to him.

I’m so sicky of sleazy rappers claiming to be God’s chosen. It makes me want to throw up. Kids who don’t know Moses from Herod swallow it hook, line, and sinker, because it allows them to keep sinning up a storm while virtue-signaling and impressing each other.

People think Minaj should be supported because she is helping Christians. Is she really?

A whorish woman made a speech at the UN. Is that going to fix the problem? Really? You believe that?

It gained her public approval and built up her already-immense arrogance. It helped her make more money. It had no legal force, however, and it’s not going to fix anything in Nigeria.

If we want to help Nigerian Christians, we should be praying for them and exposing the filthy prosperity preachers who enslave them and keep them damned, poor, and weak. We should be praying for the destruction of Islam. What is more powerful and righteous? The prayers of tens of millions who actually know God, or the self-serving capering and prancing of a famous trollop?

There are millions of people who think everything they see on CBN is right. Now CBN is telling them to go ahead and be whores as long as they say they support Christians, and they are lapping it up.

She spoke as God’s representative at the UN, and now she’s back at work, selling songs about penises. Do you really think that works? Are you completely deranged?

If you think this woman is acceptable as a Christian leader, you are falling for a very old trick. Satan has a long history of promoting whorish women by tying them to good causes.

Consider Josephine Baker. A straight-out whore. Danced naked for Parisians. She was a spy for the Resistance, too. She risked her life to fight the Nazis.

Then there is Marlene Dietrich. She was a complete slut. One of the worst. Broke up marriages. Had sex with both men and women. Kept John Wayne busy while he was married and may have been the reason he was a draft-dodger. She was also famous for a long list of charitable works.

There are others you probably know of.

We’re supposed to look at people like this and say, “Well, Yeshua will ignore their sins because of all the good they did.” But salvation is conditioned on repentance, not good deeds. No body of good deeds can save someone who won’t repent.

When he wants to, Satan appears as an angel of light. He teaches his children the same trick.

Yes, Yeshua spent time with sinners. To get them to CHANGE. He didn’t dance for their approval and abandon all virtue and dignity. He didn’t go into bars so he could play beer pong and nail pelts. He went to pull people out, and when they wouldn’t listen, he left.

Try and picture him sitting in the front row of a Minaj concert, with a big smile on my face. I dare you to claim you think that is possible.

Yeshua criticized self-righteousness. We criticize actual righteousness and promote evil. People can’t tell the difference between self-righteousness and righteousness because they don’t speak in tongues and listen to the Holy Spirit. You could literally tell them to worship a chicken, and eventually, they would do it, and if you kept at it, you could get them to murder people who denied the chicken’s divinity.

Look at Revelation 2. Yeshua criticized the church at Ephesus, which was, like all the Revelation churches, a small group that met in houses and rented rooms. Not popular.

He told them they had forgotten the basics of Christianity, and he said that if they didn’t repent he would remove their lampstand from its place.

The lampstand is the Holy Spirit, who gives illumination; revelation. Nearly all churches have had their lampstands removed, and that’s why we grope in the dark and think Nicki Minaj is a virtuous Christian woman.

The church in Ephesus lost its lampstand. How do I know? The church became corrupt and vanished. Modern Ephesians are Muslims, and their country, the ancient epicenter of Christianity, is against Israel and the Jews. The sincere, unpopular church was replaced by a sick, enormous, state-sponsored church, and eventually, the Muslims took over.

If the ancient churches hadn’t lost their lampstands, Christianity would not have failed globally, which it indisputably has.

The church is a failure in America, and as a result, we see CBN promoting a tramp. The lampstand is gone. If you want your own lampstand, you can have it. You can get close to the Holy Spirit in your own right, but don’t expect to find a really sound church of any size.

Just to inform people: no, it is not okay to pal around with people who are not Christians and who sin constantly, and that includes people who claim to be Christians. It is not okay to continue in your Satanic lifestyle after you ask for salvation. It is not okay to hold onto the Satanic culture of this world. These things are harmful to you, and they can cost you salvation in addition to bringing many curses on you here in this world.

You are not acting as a missionary by continuing to stick with people who won’t listen. They are the missionaries, and they are missionaries for Satan. You are the potential proselyte. You are making excuses because you want to keep sinning, and you don’t want to be unpopular, and you’re claiming to serve God by doing wrong.

Nicki Minaj is not helping Christians. She is not a Christian herself. Christians need to wake up and renounce the insanity of embracing her.

I Better not See a Bro Stache on Him This Year

I expected my son to grow up gradually, but it seems like he changes in sudden jumps.

Maybe 6 weeks ago, we got him a push walker because he was standing and holding onto furniture. We thought a walker would help him learn to walk. A push walker is sort of like a lawnmower. Babies stand behind them. They don’t sit in them.

He started standing and grabbing it right away, but he could not figure out how to move it around. He kept pulling it backward onto himself. He banged his head on it. I put padding on it to keep him from getting bruised.

He wasn’t able to push it around, but it has a panel with a bunch of toys on it, and he loved using those.

Last night, I was lying in bed looking at my phone, and I heard a noise. I looked down, and I saw his funny little head smiling up at me from beside the bed. He had pushed the walker across the room and into the bed.

I was amazed. It happened very suddenly.

He pushed it all over the bedroom last night. He loves it. It’s very easy for him. He holds the top bar with one hand and takes off. He acts like he has been doing it for months.

He will be walking in a week or so. I am sure of it. He has tons of strength, and he can stand up and squat without support. I’ve only seen him stand unsupported once, and it was only for a few seconds, but he is changing fast. What he’s doing with the walker is very close to walking.

We had to buy him a bunch of toys because we realized he was bored. He was chewing on charging cables and playing with anything we left within his reach. We got him a little plastic table with toys in it, and we also got him a plastic fire truck and a little toy TV remote that plays songs and so on.

He loves all of this stuff. He has learned how to use the table toys, and he spends a lot of time playing with them. There may be one toy he’s not using; I’m not sure. He sucks on the remote and pushes the buttons. He takes the parts out of fire truck and throws them around.

Now he has moved to a new stage, so we have to figure out what else to get him. I don’t even know what babies play with, so I am researching.

I don’t believe giving kids things spoils them. I believe teaching them not to appreciate things spoils them. It’s important to give kids anything they can make good use of. Where would we be if the great pianists hadn’t had good pianos when they were little more than toddlers?

My dad made good money, but my parents deprived me in comparison to the kids who lived around us. My sister and I had toys, but not many. I actually received hand-me-down toys from my best friend. I should have been given music lessons and good instruments as soon as I could benefit from them. My dad should have bought me equipment and taken me hunting and fishing. He and my mother should have shown me how to use science and engineering toys. I should have been taught to use tools. We should have traveled to Europe and Israel instead of taking cheap trips to Kentucky over and over.

It’s sad that I was encouraged to write. My parents and my teachers let me down with that advice. As a hobby and a way to communicate with people you care about, writing is fine, but anyone who encourages his child to do it for a living is extremely foolish. I should have been helped along with STEM pursuits. I would have had a bunch of patents by the time I was 30.

Toys aren’t luxuries. For kids, play is work. It’s their job. It builds capable adults.

We should also get something better than a stroller to use for walks. I don’t know anything about babies, so strollers were the only things that occurred to me when we had to move him around. There must be other things, like wagons. I’m looking into it.

We like taking mile-long walks on our private road, so we need something that will work well for that.

This boy is in such a hurry. We need to enjoy him the way he is while we can.

“Welcome to the Two Minutes Tim Cook Hate”

I got annoyed yesterday because I realized I had wasted $429 on a vacuum cleaner which is not as good as a $130 shop vac from Home Depot. Today I’m annoyed about refrigerators.

I had been hearing a lot about Samsung’s new policy of forcing refrigerator owners to allow fridges to display ads in their kitchens. You didn’t dream that last sentence; it’s actually happening.

Today I decided to take a look.

First, let me say that we have all been hoodwinked when it comes to fridges. We pay too much for refrigerators that do things 1) other than refrigerating 2) which are not actually very helpful.

When I was a kid, a fridge was a fridge, not a TV, video game console, telephone, camera, therapist, sex surrogate, French tutor, urologist, dog trainer, palm reader, thought leader, icemaker, or water fountain. Fridges had excellent mechanicals, they lasted 40 years if treated well, and they could be repaired easily.

In the 1960’s, things started to change. Clever marketers decided people wanted their fridges to make ice automatically and dispense cold water through the door. Over the ensuing decades, fridges got more complicated, the mechanicals started to fail after 10 years, and repair became less and less practical due to the use of cheap parts.

My grandparents built a beautiful home in about 1965. My grandmother put two deep freezes in the basement, along with the fridge from her old home. When she died in 2003, these appliances were still working, as were her Speed Queen washer and dryer.

I have seen modern fridges fail in under 5 years.

Consumers love shiny gadgets, so as technology improved, we started seeing truly ridiculous features in refrigerators.

Now you can talk to your refrigerator in America while you vacation in New Guinea. You can tell it what to do. You can make it show you video of its contents. If it gets lonely, it can text you.

They make fridges with external TV screens that allow you to see what you could see if you took your precious little hand and opened the doors.

I thought my old refrigerator was dying last year. Turned out it wasn’t true. We had been blocking the air from the freezer. Moving food around fixed it. Before we got it straightened out, we went to look at new fridges.

Spoiler alert: there aren’t any good refrigerators now. You think your Sub-Zero or Fisher & Paykel is going to last longer than a Frigidaire? It won’t. I talked to an appliance guy who was working on a dryer, trying to find out which brand of refrigerator was best. He was familiar with every brand. He said, “They’re all junk.” I asked if that included the boutique brands. Yes, it did.

Interesting side note: your new refrigerator is full of flammable gas. FLAMMABLE. Isn’t that nice? Good thing to know if you have a house fire. The greenies have panicked us through several iterations of refrigerant, probably needlessly, and now we have reached the point where they think it’s better to have a giant bomb in your kitchen than risk damage to the ozone layer, which seems to be doing very well.

We decided we did not want an icemaker or any type of dispenser. My current fridge has a door dispenser, and we almost never use it.

Here is the dirty little secret of all door water dispensers: they dispense warm water, not cold. At least compared to actual cold water you might keep in a jug inside the fridge. If “cold” means 5 degrees cooler than the tap water from your sink, then yes, they dispense cold water. To me, it means 35 degrees.

Icemakers fail frequently. They are the parts that go bad most often on refrigerators, and they aren’t very good. They have evolved to the point where they dispense ice in awkward semicircular chunks that block the flow of liquid to your mouth. Seems like the ice always smells, too. These machines make so much ice, it sits around absorbing odors for weeks or months. Are you a fisherman? Get ready for gin, tonic, and perch.

Another issue: icemakers and water dispensers kill cubic footage. They take up room. If you see a refrigerator advertised as 22 cubic feet, you have to deduct the volume of the water and ice apparatus, because the manufacturer won’t.

There’s more: these machines have unnecessary water filters. My water is just fine. The manufacturers have started putting digital chips on their filters so you get no ice and no water unless you use their OEM filters, and those can cost $50 to $80 each, although a filter probably costs Frigidaire $5. I saw a guy claim he needed to spend $250 per year to keep up. That’s like 70 cases of bottled water.

My fridge has a filter cartridge (non-OEM), and I never replace it. The water keeps flowing. Sometimes when I feel like it, I push the little button that says to reset the filter life, and the fridge obeys as though I had installed a new cartridge. It has no idea whether the filter is full. It apparently goes by time.

Making your own ice isn’t really that tough.

If I want a big, shiny stainless bottom-freezer fridge from one of the least-worthless brands, it will cost me at least $1500. That’s on sale. I can get a plain old white top-freezer fridge for $850. Nearly the same cubic footage. Maytag sells a 22-cubic-foot model for $1800 (regular price), and I can buy a 21-cubic-foot top-freezer fridge for half of that.

Am I being cheap? Well, sure, but the main thing is that I don’t have to be concerned about repairs to parts I don’t want to buy in the first place. I don’t like waiting for repairmen. I don’t like paying them. I don’t trust them. I don’t enjoy doing appliance repairs.

I could buy a top-freezer fridge and a standalone ice maker for less than the cost of a fancy fridge with no ice maker or dispenser.

The thing that really sticks in my craw, however, is not the ice and water problem. It’s the ad problem.

People bought Samsung refrigerators, thinking they were getting cool gadgets they actually owned, and then Samsung updated their firmware without permission and started showing them ads. That’s immoral. You don’t change a deal once you make it.

I hate unsolicited ads. When I see ads playing on a gas station pump, I face the other way until my tank is full. I have smart TV’s, and I do everything I can to disable their ad functions (which didn’t exist when I bought them). I block and report all spam emails. I put a spam filter on this blog. I pay for Youtube Premium because it kills ads. I quit watching Amazon videos for multiple reasons, and one was that they swindled me on ads. They sold me Prime with the promise that I would see no ads, and then they started showing me ads anyway.

Call me spoiled, but I would rather watch nothing than watch a really good show interrupted by the same ad 30 times.

Video ads are pathetic these days. Some shows can’t get a lot of sponsors, so they run the same three sponsors’ ads over and over. They also increase the frequency of ads as the shows progress. You get a short interruption every 8 minutes toward the beginning, then you get hooked, and then you get a longer interruption, featuring the same ads, every two minutes until the show is over.

It’s also common for video providers to lock up ads while you look at other browser tabs. You move to a new tab while the ad is running, hoping to avoid it, and when you go back, the ad resumes at exactly the same point where you abandoned it.

If I don’t want to buy your silly product during the first three seconds of the ad, I still won’t want to buy it after being forced to see the other 27 or 157 seconds.

I quit watching secular entertainment, so I suffer much less than I used to. I still watch videos related to my interests.

I can’t imagine the misery of going through the work of minimizing the ads in my life and then having them forced on me, on a big screen, in my kitchen.

Do they have sound? Can you shut it off? I certainly hope they default to silence, but I’ll bet they don’t.

The ad-forcing TV’s don’t cost less than the ones that have no screens. They cost more. So where is the ad revenue going? To Samsung, of course. Samsung is subjecting you to torment and taking money for it. You get nothing for your service.

You’re like a prisoner on a chain gang, working for 50 cents per hour while the state charges private land owners for your services. Except you don’t get the 50 cents.

If Samsung put a billboard in my yard, they would have to pay me, not themselves. Common sense?

Samsung fridges have cameras inside them. I’m not kidding. I’m going to guess they film your food and send you ads based on what you eat. They sell the information to other jerks.

I hope some prankster starts putting dummy grenades and pipe bombs in his Samsung fridge.

Samsung says the ads are “curated.” This is a nonsense term intended to make products seem special and consumers feel important. It just means someone chose the ads. This is true of all ads. Also, Samsung’s “curator” is a computer that belongs to Samsung. It’s not a human being. “Curated” means “chosen to appeal to you based on information we shouldn’t have, and provided by predatory corporations.”

It’s odd to use the term “curated” to apply to products which are…advertisements. Ordinarily, marketers use it to apply to things we like and want, not things we hate. Assortments of skin care products. Music playlists.

“We hope you’re enjoying your stay at the Tower of London. Next in our series of curated experiences for valued subjects, the iron muzzle with spikes on the inside!”

Samsung lies and says the ads are intended to benefit you. It’s all about you. For the children. So you can live your best life. Because we are stronger together. And it takes a village. Love trumps hate. Coexist.

If you’re going to lie, at least try to come up with lies that would fool a two-year-old. The lies make this worse, not better.

It will get worse. If our government wanted to do anything about it, they would have done it by now. Our laws are made by people lobbyists pay for service, lobbyists have lots of money, and you can’t expect the same people who take bribes to ban bribes.

Here’s a critical video about Samsung’s disgusting actions. Here is the height of irony: the video was clearly made using AI. AI will defend you against creeping tech tyranny. Yeah. That will happen.

My Rebuttal to Dale Carnegie

I had the funniest dream last night.

I use a lot of Internet forums because I have a lot of interests. I can’t just conjure up friends and relatives who can tell me how to wire up a guitar amp tube socket or change an oil seal on a tractor axle. I have to look elsewhere.

Something about me attracts insults and abuse. Internet forums are full of jerks. Anyone who participates in a typical forum will eventually be bullied and provoked. My strategy is to try to show humility and patience from the start, and I use self-deprecating remarks to keep the jerks from waking up, but to many jerks, humility and self-deprecation are like the smell of poop to flies, so they pounce.

Eventually, if someone will not leave me alone, I will respond in kind. I am much better at this than most people, and forum moderators don’t like it. You can let a complete ass insult you over and over for weeks, and you can count on forum moderators to leave him alone, but when you get fed up and snap back with a penetrating shot from a larger caliber, you get in trouble.

These days, more and more moderators are ignorant young wokesters, so things are worse if there is any kind of conservative or Christian smell to you. It doesn’t have to be overt; a slight hint will serve just fine to get you disparate and unfair treatment.

Some old crank has been needling me on a forum for saying it’s a good thing to expose people who give consumers a raw deal. It’s like he’s a dog and the neighbor’s shar pei is in heat. He can’t move on. I responded to his obnoxious remarks civilly several times, and he can’t shut up.

I quit going to the forum, but after a week or two, I decided to visit again, and he was still at it. I told him the first of the month was coming up, so I was glad I wasn’t paying rent on his head.

Personally, I would rent a house, not an efficiency, but let’s move on.

Now some woke kid moderators are sending me email messages. I responded once, and now I just put them in the Archived folder. Maybe I’ll read them in a month or two, or maybe I’ll use other forums.

There are some seriously non-woke forums out there, so that’s nice. One example is Arborist Site, for people who need help with forestry tools. Gun forums are also pretty good. I wouldn’t go near a Christian forum, because I can’t handle the self-righteousness from people who do nothing but quote fools like Joel Osteen and T.D. Jakes. Few things are worse than being scolded by ignorant, disrespectful people.

Some people are drawn to Christianity by a desire to change and get close to God. Many more, however, are drawn by the desire to be God’s Karens and HOA presidents. Yeshua was murdered by self-promoting, self-adoring Karens.

A Youtube preacher named Tom Fischer lectured me for criticizing TV preachers and their prosperity nonsense. Well, he lives in a camper that was a gift. I am not making fun of him. Poverty is no joke. But he lives in a camper, he has had this standard of living for many years, and he essentially called me an enemy of Christ for criticizing the prosperity gospel.

He told me I had discipline coming. I was living in a nice house. I had a wonderful wife. I didn’t have to work. I lived in a fantastic area with warm, kind people. Since he gave me his warning, I have had a magnificent baby son who brightens every day of my life. Things get better all the time.

As I have told my wife, if this is discipline, I want more of it.

He has a lot of company. A lot of people have told me God was either getting me or going to get me. Most ironically, Alberto Lee Santiago, the child-rapist pastor from my last church. He told me God didn’t like what I was doing. Within a couple of years, he was put in prison, his wife (who agreed with him) died from a brain tumor before he was sentenced, and of course, he lost his church.

His brother-in-law Sander was also enraged at me, although of course, he claimed he was praying for me. Sometimes I think that’s the ultimate Christian diss.

Sander was an illegal alien; maybe he still is. He got furious at me for calling Osteen a grinning jackass, which I stand by. He got even madder when I said illegal immigration was a Biblical curse, which is a hundred percent true. When Santiago was arrested (after doing his level best to discourage the victim’s mother from forgiving him), Sander posted a meme criticizing church members for abandoning their “shepherd.”

There are a lot of things a good shepherd does with sheep. What Albert did is not one of them.

I would like to see Tom Fischer and his wife in a big, beautiful house with a pack of cute kids playing around their feet, but it looks like the prosperity gospel is keeping him where he is. It was designed by Satan to do that. It works beautifully. As Satan’s tools go, it is unsurpassed in its effectiveness.

The more you give to prosperity preachers, the less you prosper, and the less you can give to the poor. That’s the scheme, in a nutshell. In a way, it’s almost beautiful. So simple and powerful.

Fischer also lays into the Jews all the time, which is beyond disappointing.

Anyway, that’s just an example of what happens when I speak up around Christians. Religious people murdered Yeshua, and they want to get rid of everyone else who shoots down their idols and superstitions. Jewish or Christian, it’s the same kind of people.

I really hope no one hits me with “Judge not” for the rest of this year. I don’t know if I’ll be able to restrain myself. I’m going to get a shirt that says, “‘Judge not’ is not the only verse in the Bible.”

Like Yeshua and the apostles, I judge people all the time. It’s extremely helpful to me and whoever hears it. I don’t care who the person is; the other day I judged Billy Graham for saying Muhammad Ali was a follower of Jesus Christ. That was a stupid and dangerous thing to say. I don’t care how many people went to Graham’s crusades.

Billy Graham is probably close to the top of the Christian idol totem pole. He was so relentlessly inoffensive, he drew the admiration of hundreds of millions. What did Yeshua, an unpopular person, say about popularity?

If I’m willing to knock Billy Graham, you know I’m hard core.

My wife saw Graham say this, and she was mortified. We listened to him, and the impression we got was that he denied the necessity of the cross, which could mean he was not saved. Denying Yeshua is the absolute surest and quickest way to lose your salvation.

Muhammad Ali, a Muslim, named himself after a pedophile rapist gangster who was physically dirty and encouraged his followers to perform acts of terrorism against non-Muslims. Ali was no follower of Yeshua. He was an extremely ignorant man, he lived a life of defeat, and he is almost certainly in hell. Graham saw no point in correcting him. In fact, he reinforced his eternal itinerary by lying to his face. Great job, Billy.

Believe it or not, warning people about hell is important. Is it controversial to say that? Can that possibly be? Slap yourself hard in the face and think about it.

To get back to my dream, I dreamed someone emailed me a link to a new forum, and I visited it. All of the posts were reposts of things I had written on forums. All the horrible non-woke things that had sent snowflakes running for their weed stashes and power crystals.

One of the posts was very funny. The guy who created the forum was furious at me for using the phrase “crazy people.” You can’t say “crazy” any more, even if you’re describing a bona fide psychotic who has to be kept strapped to a wall.

This useful, accurate phrase is considered offensive. That’s just crazy.

God has blessed me for giving up secular entertainment. I did it earlier this year, and although my life was very good beforehand, it is much, much better now. Years ago, he blessed me for giving up social media. Now I wonder if he wants me to quit using Internet forums.

I feel like I need them for the purpose of getting information, but that may be an excuse. I also use them for socializing.

Now that AI is freely available, I have found that it’s a better source of help than Internet forums. Forum people like answering questions about which they know nothing. They also drag threads off topic. Maybe I should drop forums and stick with AI as much as I can.

Participation in the world’s culture is unequal yoking, so it has to be minimized.

Is using AI unequal yoking? I hope not. It’s pretty woke, i.e. deluded. AI bots aren’t people, though, so I treat them like the inanimate objects they are. I don’t try to get along with them. I don’t use good manners. I never joke with them. It would be like trying to befriend a shovel.

The world’s culture is a minefield. It was designed by Satan. He puts little temptation mines in TV, fiction, movies, sports, music, and the news. When you walk through it, the mines blow up under your feet. Demons get permission to enter your home and go after you and your family.

The most pleasant thing about abandoning secular entertainment is that it put an end to my lust issues. I didn’t realize it, but websites that don’t seem sex-related have little bits of erotic content in them designed to pull you further astray, and it works. News sites are full of erotic clickbait about whorish female celebrities. This one or that one shocked the crowd at Sundance by going to a viewing naked! This one has an incredible “bikini bod” at 57! That one wore a CHEEKY dress to the Golden Globes! It’s all over sites like The Daily Mail and Yahoo News.

I don’t need to see professional sluts all day. Sorry; that’s what they are. I wouldn’t let them be part of my social circle or walk onto my property, so why read about them on the Internet?

I didn’t realize reading the news or watching shows like Clarkson’s Farm could lead to problems with lust, but it does. It must lead to other demonic issues, too.

Being delivered from demons is wonderful, but it’s a second-rate blessing. The better blessing is to avoid having demons in the first place. Secular culture brings them in, and if they are cast out and you go back to secular culture, they enter you all over again.

I would rather stay free than watch Fox News. The Catholic news channel.

Any channel where more than one host refers to an old celibate socialist elected by gays as the holy father is suspect.

I’m not going to fit in with this world. If I started to, it would be a sign that I had backslidden and lost my relationship with God. Changing my behavior to avoid offending won’t help. The real offense is my existence. I’m like a Jew. The problem people have with me isn’t my behavior. It’s my existence itself.

Currying favor won’t make anyone like me. It will just strip me of the favor of God and grieve the Holy Spirit.

If I try to make people like me by being less honest, they will still hate me, but I will lose my relationship with God.

Go ahead and dislike me. They will never build a microscope powerful enough to detect my respect for your opinion of me.

Current Population: Three

The Wonder Baby is nearly 8 months old. What should I say about him?

I suppose I should write about his personality.

He is possibly the funniest baby that ever lived. It seems like everything he does is funny, from screaming with joy for no apparent reason to breaking wind in my face when I’m trying to bond with him.

He puts everything in his mouth. He really loves charging cables and TV remotes. He puts live charging cables in his mouth and sucks on them. I tell people that’s why he has so much energy. I just ordered a new remote because after he got done chewing on the old one, it didn’t work.

He loves people. He makes eye contact with anyone who talks to him, and he smiles and giggles at them. He trusts everyone.

Enjoy that while it lasts, my son.

He sleeps between us, and he wakes up before we do. He stares at me and waits for me to wake up. When I snore, he thinks I’m talking to him, and it makes him happy.

He has learned to reach over and scratch my shoulder to wake me up.

He finds my attention overwhelming. When I look at him and talk to him, he opens his mouth in a big, toothless smile, and his whole face lights up. He gets so excited, he has to turn away and bury his face in his mom’s shoulder.

At some point during the last month, he decided he wanted to stand, so he grabs things and pulls himself to his feet. He can’t walk yet, but he loves standing, and he will do it for long periods.

He crawls a lot, and he takes off suddenly, so if we’re both on the bed, I have to hold onto a leg or something to keep him from launching himself over the side like a depth charge. He has started crawling out of the bedroom and into the hall.

He holds his own bottles, and he holds his sippy cup and drinks water from it. He’s a big eater. It seems like his mom is shoveling food into him all the time.

He eats and drinks ferociously. He gets very agitated when his bottle doesn’t come immediately, and he screams and cries. Then when he gets what he wants, he sucks like he just crawled out of the desert.

When he poops, he growls like an angry Rottweiler. He likes to poop at the table, during meals. We can pretty much count on hearing that growl when we sit down to eat. He also likes to poop when he sees Dad.

He adores his mother. Sometimes he gets very upset because she has left the room. He will stand in his crib, facing the door, and yell until she returns.

He can’t stop scratching his crotch. I keep telling him we’re not Italian, but he does it anyway. When I change his diaper and put zinc oxide on his crotch, he shoves both hands into it and smears it on other parts of his body. I try to restrain his hands, but it’s impossible.

He pulls his mother’s hair. He thinks it’s wonderful. He especially likes pulling it while she’s trying to sleep.

He likes putting his mouth on his parents and making gross noises. He thinks this is fantastic.

He screams when he’s happy, but he also screams when he’s upset, so sometimes we have to try to figure out which it is. Overall, he is a very happy baby.

He is fascinated by everything. He is extremely aware of his surroundings. He looks around constantly. If he sees that something interests us, he wants it. This is why he likes chewing on remotes and phones. He has a rubber baby remote, but he has figured out that it’s not the real thing, so he doesn’t have much interest in it.

We took him to Costco, where they have enormous ceiling fans around 15 feet across. We noticed he was leaning back in the cart, looking up, and my wife realized he was staring at the fans.

He thinks Costco ice cream is the best.

He hasn’t spoken any English yet, but he babbles in his own language all day. He talks to us, to himself, to the windows…he is not picky.

He likes being tickled, and he loves it when we rub his belly with our heads. He pulls our hair and shrieks with joy. He never gets tired of it.

He’s still very strong. The other day while I was in bed, I felt someone grab my arm and move it. I thought it was my wife, but it was him. His hands are thick and muscular. He has what millennials call “core strength.” When you hold him horizontally, he is as straight as a board.

He loves the shower. His shower is our utility sink, which has a special plastic seat and a sprayer on a hose. He loves having poop hosed off of him and being washed with hand soap. He likes lapping at the hot water as it comes out of the sprayer.

He takes things apart, so he is definitely male. He unscrewed a knob and removed it from a drawer. He has learned to remove rubber caps from doorstops, so we had to get baby-safe doorstops so he wouldn’t choke on the caps.

He gets tons of affection. He is with his mother most of the time, and she sings songs to him and holds him over her head. The “Changing Baby’s Diaper” song. The “Baby and his Mommy, They Love Each Other” song. There are others. He can’t get enough of this stuff.

I had to tell his mother he would like having his hair combed. I didn’t realize she didn’t know. It’s easy to run a comb through most types of Caucasian hair, but it doesn’t work for most Africans, so they have no idea how it feels. When I was little, my mother used to sit me down and comb my hair slowly, and I loved it. Now my son loves it. His hair is curly, but a comb will go through it.

This is a great tip for black parents of biracial kids.

We squeeze him and rub him and toss him around. He likes being thrown on the bed over and over. He’s a rough-and-tumble kid. He prefers being thrown around to being handled gently.

He likes making music. He has a little keyboard, and he likes to bang on it and stare at it.

He has a crew of stuffed animals that keep him company when we’re out and about. Mr. Bear. Mrs. Cow. Mr. Polar, the other bear. We have three Mrs. Cows because they get dirty and because we don’t always know where they are.

Mrs. Cow was originally Mr. Cow, but my wife changed her name because she was concerned about the consequences of misgendering.

I don’t know if women who don’t raise their own kids know what they’re missing. My wife wants to be with her son all the time. They’re always busy together. She shows him numbers. She takes him for walks and shows him the trees and birds. She puts little outfits on him. She shows him to her relatives on video chats. She sings her songs to him. He always wants more; he seems to think they are parts of one creature. The thought of getting a job is abhorrent to her, understandably.

It seems wrong to me, too. I can’t believe any woman would prefer a job to her own children. I think we are doing things the correct way.

We pray with him. I tell him Yeshua is God, and I tell him Yeshua loves him even more than we do. I speak blessings over him in the name of Yeshua.

We don’t work on Sundays any more. Sundays are for God and family.

Whatever his future holds, he will be better off than his mother and I. My mother rarely took my sister and me to church, and she taught us almost nothing about Yeshua. My dad either slept late or played golf on Sundays, and I never saw him pray until he was 87 years old and dying from dementia. I grew up in a house that was empty of purpose and hope, and we were all miserable. My son lives in a house of love and God’s favor.

He will be walking at talking soon, and that means we will be able to tell him about God.

Time to Inventory the Chemicals

My son keeps surprising me.

Last week, if memory serves, I started whistling to him. They say you need to stimulate babies’ brains, so I make an effort, as does his mother.

A couple of days ago, she told me he was whistling. I didn’t pay much attention. I had a lot on my mind. Today I saw him do it. He looked me right in the face and whistled on purpose.

It wasn’t great whistling, but it was whistling, and it was deliberate.

This morning, my wife called me to come to the bedroom. I went to the door and asked her what she wanted. She told me to look down. My son was on the floor by the doorway. I hadn’t even seen him; I could have stepped on him. I expected him to be on the other side of the room with his mother.

He had crawled about 15 feet from my wife’s recliner. He drops out of her lap on purpose, onto his feet. He can’t stay on his feet, and his crawling form is not very good, but he took off anyway.

A short time ago, she called me again and had me look at what she referred to as “the scene of the crime.” He was on the floor on his back, in front of our dresser, with a knob lying next to him. He had somehow unscrewed a knob from a drawer. Now we have to take measures to keep him from eating drawer knobs.

I put him on the bed and sat him up. He can sit up just fine now. I put the TV remote about a foot and a half away from him. He flopped on his belly, grabbed the remote, rolled back into a sitting position, and started trying to eat it. As of around three weeks or a month back, he hated being on his stomach. Now he doesn’t care.

He has an exercise mat he lies on. At the foot end, there is a plastic keyboard with 5 or 6 keys that look like piano keys. They make sounds and play annoying songs. Until recently, he had banged on the keys randomly, without seeming to realize what they did. Now he is kicking them on purpose in order to hear the sounds. He kicks them randomly, too, though.

He tried to imitate a word yesterday. We took him to Costco last week, and he sat in the cart like a toddler. He has a high chair, and he sits in it for long periods.

He had a checkup today. The nurse said he was way ahead on everything. We don’t know much about these things. We haven’t raised any other kids. We have to look them up.

She was impressed with things he had been doing for months. She thought he had just started doing them. She said he had great core strength. I could have told her that. He has been like a two-by-six since he was maybe two months old.

He may turn out to be extremely intelligent. If so, he is going to need some guidance. He will need help dealing with other kids, because he will find taking to normal children frustrating. He will eventually need to know some kids who are like him. He will have to be taught humility and gratitude so he doesn’t get on the other kids’ nerves and spend most of his childhood stuffed in lockers. He will need to know that brains are nothing to be proud of, and that they don’t make him better than anyone else.

It’s good that he’s so strong. Being a smart kid is no fun if you’re weak.

You shouldn’t be proud of anything, and that goes double for things that were handed to you without regard to effort or merit.

It would be great if he were very smart, but the important things are humility and a good relationship with the Holy Spirit.

His first word must be right around the corner. That will be legitimately spooky.

The Opposite of Peter Pan Syndrome

My buddy Mike sent me a link to a video about Jackson Laux, and I was very impressed.

The web says Jackson, or maybe I should call him Mr. Laux because he is so grown up, is 9 years old. He is Internet-famous for his love of tractors, especially John Deere. He has appeared in lots of videos. He has a spic-and-span shop. He has multiple tractors. He can talk all day about them. Their strengths and weaknesses and so on. He really enjoys what he’s doing.

As a Christian, I find Mr. Laux interesting, because he helps me understand what most parents do wrong.

When I was a kid, my dad made very good money. I should know, because I have all the money he never spent. So we went on vacations to Europe to broaden our minds, right? We had music instruction, tutors, and all sorts of help with interests that could be lucrative and fulfilling later in life, right? Well, no. My dad was cheap. We had furniture from discount outlets in the Carolinas. We had cars we got at cost from my mother’s father’s dealership. My sister and I didn’t have much in the way of toys. Another kid down the block gave me hand-me-down toys and clothes. When we traveled, we went to see my mom’s family in Kentucky or we went to the Keys, which were a short drive away.

My hobby was TV. My dad’s hobby, which consumed hours of his life every day. I sat in front of TV sets and ate ice cream.

I had interests, but it never occurred to me to ask my parents to support them. To them, every non-necessity they bought for me was either a toy or a gift. Frivolous. The only exceptions were books, which they didn’t mind paying for, and two banjos. They would never have bought me tools, a tractor, a welder…no way. They would never have put $10,000 in an investment account and taught me what to do with it. They would never have bought me a rental property and helped me manage it.

You go to school. You get B’s or better. You become a lawyer or maybe a doctor. That’s what you do. This was their limited understanding.

My mother didn’t have much in the way of vision, and neither did my dad, but he was worse, because he didn’t care. He didn’t spend time with his kids. He had no idea who our teachers were or what subjects we were taking. He forgot our birthdays. Once, he came home drunk, with no idea it was my birthday. I was using a music stand my mother had bought for $8.00. When he realized what day it was, he asked me how I liked my gift, and he didn’t buy me anything else.

My mother made some effort to interest me in science. I’ll give her that. She enrolled me in a mail-order program that sent me little science kits. She tried to interest me in coin collecting, which was dull, given that there was almost nothing available to spend.

Here I am, an adult with a thousand interests. Writing. Music. Machining. Welding. Cooking. Science. Engineering. Maintaining my land. Building things. Photography. And my parents never managed to set me up with a single activity. Not one! Yes, I got banjo lessons, but the banjo is a dead-end instrument, and music lessons are nothing if you don’t learn to read and write music.

Photography is actually a very profitable profession if you have the gift, and by now I know I have it. I have taken a lot of excellent pictures. I could have made money with cameras.

My parents failed. Now let’s look at my buddy Mike.

He has two sons, and they started life near where I live. Mike spoke to one of their teachers. According to Mike, regarding his son, the teacher said, “He be real smart.”

When he saw the pickle his sons were in, Mike moved to New Hampshire, where they have better public schools. When one of his sons turned out to be a gifted football player, he moved to the DC area and put him in a famous sports high school. When the time came to think about college, Mike’s son was connected with scouts. He didn’t become a pro in the usual sense of the word, but he did receive a free college education, and he is a happy, very successful adult.

Mike lived across the street from me, and his parents didn’t do much to start him off in life. His mother died when he was about 16, and his dad’s involvement with him dried up. His parents can’t take credit for the way he raised his sons, and neither can his wife, who gave him custody during their divorce and then ran off to pursue her career. Mike’s sons are doing better than he did. Mike had to learn to hustle when he was their age, taking whatever job was available or creating his own jobs.

Mr. Laux did not get a job at age three and save and invest and buy tractors and a shop. No one has told me this. I know it because I’m not an idiot. No little kid does that. Even Mozart had an aggressive manager. Mr. Laux’ parents encouraged him in his dream and also financed it heavily. They paid for everything. They knew the difference between spoiling a kid with toys and investing in his future.

As a result, barring unforeseen problems, Mr. Laux will be self-supporting when most kids are rotting their brains with video games and dope, and he will not have to waste 4 years and hundreds of thousands of dollars at a university where he will be pushed to become an antisemitic, God-hating, emasculated, demon-worshiping, drug-using, socialist pervert, given a useless degree in English or History, and then relegated to a cubicle farm.

I will have my son’s back with regard to any wise pursuit that interests him. That doesn’t include getting an English degree or starting a band. He can study STEM fields. He can start a business. He can learn to invest. I’ll help him learn instruments and languages. I will never tell him things I buy that are related to his wise pursuits are frivolous or that he should think I’m generous for buying them. That would be like telling him I’m generous for paying his pediatrician.

I wish I could go back in time about 50 years and give my autopilot parents a good talking-to. It might have given my mother ideas. My dad wouldn’t have paid any attention, because he didn’t care. I wish I could go back and talk to my young self, but I was underdeveloped and hardheaded thanks to my parents, so I don’t know if I would have listened.

I might have listened. I remember a few times in my past when appalled strangers who knew my parents were blowing it told me things that stuck.

My parents didn’t know God. They never heard from the Holy Spirit. We didn’t pray together. I rarely saw the inside of a church. They imparted virtually no wisdom to me. They didn’t cultivate a single useful habit in me. I didn’t have the natural character to raise myself properly. It’s a wonder I’m not living in a refrigerator box.

Pairs Nicely with Word Salad

I guess it’s time for another “boiling frog” post. Once again, I am struck by mankind’s general failure to comprehend the level of evil in the world.

Man’s most impressive quality, to me, is our seemingly-unlimited ability to get used to things and be content with situations that are objectively very bad. There are happy quadruple amputees. There were surely moderately happy prisoners in the Nazi death camps. This is just how people are. As things get worse for us, many of us establish new baselines.

You start out thinking happiness is a huge income, a beautiful family, good health, and a fine house. If you go broke unexpectedly, it changes: happiness is a beautiful family and good health. If you get a horrible disease, happiness is a beautiful family. If things get bad enough, happiness is getting to trade the wet, soggy refrigerator box you sleep in, alone, while waiting to die, for a dry one.

There was a time not that long ago when women weren’t supposed to show their ankles in public. There was a time when a bikini was considered scandalous. Now you can walk around naked in major US cities, and the police will back you up.

“On a Slow Boat to China” was once considered too risque to be used in a movie, but now children repeat a song a famous and likely illiterate slut wrote about her vagina, and a public high school held an assembly to let an even worse slut speak. The latter slut can’t complain about being called a slut, because she appears in a video for a song called “Slut me Out.”

Your kids probably know it by heart.

We have also become used to childish pettiness and sadism, even from people in positions of great political power.

Los Angeles is being torn up by the usual suspects right now. Our federal government is obeying the law, rounding up and deporting illegal aliens, and Californians as well as hostile foreigners are rioting. They have tried to kill feds and random individuals by slinging concrete through car windows. They have burned cars. They entered a federal building and destroyed vehicles. What is the press calling this dangerous, ominous uprising? “Peaceful.” Even Fox said it.

What does “peaceful” mean now? How many car-burnings, attempted murders, and government-building invasions does a public gathering have to have before we admit it’s not peaceful?

The governor of California, a failed presidential candidate, and a US representative are blaming the victims. Imagine this happening in 1980 or 2000.

Gavin Newsom claims Donald Trump is at fault, saying he is intentionally fomenting disorder. Like a battered wife who burns her husband’s English muffin, I guess. Kamala Harris also blames the government, of which she nearly gained control. A representative named Norma Torres told the feds, “Go the F___ home!” on the Internet!

American law enforcement officers should “go home,” but hostile foreigners in the process of committing felonies in our country should stay here?

We should be astonished by the state of our country, but we’re not. We have escalation fatigue. We’re used to things being bad, and we’re used to them getting worse.

The icing on the cake is that Kamala Harris nearly won the presidency. It shows that America is in terrible shape. She is the dumbest, most transparently dishonest, least charming candidate the Democrats have fielded in my lifetime, and she nearly beat the man who gave us the glorious years of 2017 through 2021, during which our nation at least had the illusion of recovery.

Since Trump won, conservatives have been strutting around like Mick Jagger doing his chicken dance, proclaiming the end of leftism and the permanent ascendancy of the right, but the truth is, we are still losing. Trump squeaked by; there was no landslide. We have tiny, fragile margins in Congress. Americans are becoming more cruel and childish. Yeshua is becoming even less popular. The truth is held in even more contempt than it was in 2020.

Christians are being pushed into smaller and smaller safe zones. It seems like we are headed for a scenario in which we have no books to read, no shows and movies to watch, and no music to listen to, in addition to all our other limitations.

In 2021, I started watching the TV show Clarkson’s Farm, in which British comedian Jeremy Clarkson tries to make a profit running a thousand-acre crop and livestock operation. I mean he tries to make a profit other than the pallets of cash Amazon provides for his efforts.

It’s an extremely funny show, and I can relate to some of it, having worked on my grandfather’s farms and now living on a sort of farm of my own.

The other day, I was watching, and Clarkson called Yeshua “JFC,” and by that I mean he used a course term for copulation as thought it were God’s middle name. I was disturbed. My wife, who was walking through the living room holding our son, was disturbed, although she didn’t mention it until later.

I sat there thinking, “Should I turn this off, or should I just accept this as a momentary bit of unpleasantness of a sort which is unavoidable in the world in which I now live? Will I be held accountable?”

Clarkson is very smart and very funny, but he’s also one of Earth’s most conspicuous and perversely proud fools. He has no interest in God, and he doesn’t know he and his family are cursed because of his choices. He is not a good role model for people who want to lead blessed lives and avoid hell. People who are successful from the long perspective.

My wife brought the JFC outburst up last night, and we talked about it, wondering what we should do. It’s not just about Clarkson. It’s about the culture of the entire world. Are we supposed to remain enganged, let ourselves be subjected to commonplace filth and blasphemy, and get over it? Are we supposed to get rid of Starlink, hole up like lepers, and have groceries passed over our front gate?

This must be what Israel was like during the periods when the Jews served Baal and other evil spirits, or when the Tribe of Benjamin was busy raping men in the street.

People say lots of vile things these days, as a matter of course. They say “holy s___.” You probably say it. You definitely associate with people who do. Have you ever thought about what it means? You’re saying feces are like God. Do you think he likes that? Do you think it will never affect your future?

Nonetheless, it’s considered acceptable. I have probably heard it said 50,000 times, and I have probably said it myself, although maybe not, since it always sounded stupid to me. I’ve heard Christians say it.

I’m glad “oh, my f___ing God” isn’t as popular. That one always makes me cringe.

Last night I asked my wife where we were supposed to go once America became too disgusting for us. This was the big sanctuary country for Christians. The place where persecution was mildest. It’s crumbling fast, so where do we go? Africa? There is poverty and boredom, but least African countries fight perversion and put Yeshua in their constitutions.

I don’t want to move to Africa, but it would really be something, walking around and going about our business in a country where anyone who persecutes Christians or criticizes prayer gets ripped into by the general public. It would be fantastic to live in a country where a perversion parade would be grounds for mass arrests, and where witches, though common, have to hide.

When I prophesy, God keeps saying he is ridding me of the ways of Satan. That is excellent news, but when God clears you of the customs and beliefs of Satan’s world, you necessarily become increasingly disgusted with Earth and more aware of what mankind is missing by insisting on doing things its own way. No matter how nice your life is here, you feel a stronger drive to go home. You crave God’s presence. You want the tribulation to start so reform can begin.

The earth is a toilet that hasn’t been flushed in a very long time.

I love the county where I live. I love it 10 times as much as I hate Miami, which is saying a great deal. I wish the whole country were like this place. I love Tennessee. I love Singapore. I love Switzerland. Why? Because I love places where people at least superficially resemble Christians.

The Swiss are conceited leftists who have no interest in God, but they are polite, responsible, accomplished people who treat each other well and refrain from violent crime. The most popular religion in Singapore is Buddhism, which came from Satan, but again, the people act a lot like Christians. Tennessee is full of actual Christians. Parts of it, anyway. Definitely not Memphis.

My feelings about these places stem from my desire to get away from America’s deteriorating ghetto/junior high culture. I want to live in a place of peace and prosperity, where people aren’t constantly putting their filthy ways before my face.

Even though I know Singapore and Switzerland aren’t Christian countries, I can’t help loving them irrationally, just because of their peoples’ outward resemblance to Christians.

I don’t know what kinds of adjustments we will have to make regarding things we expose our family to, but whatever they are, our resulting situation will not be an adequate substitute for the Messianic Age or heaven. In order to come as close as possible to feeling as though we have been moved to a better place, I think the best thing we can do is to soak in God’s presence as much as we can while we are stuck here among the children and savages.

Like UV Light on a Hotel Bedspread

Sometimes I find myself failing to pray as much as I want to, and it’s a big problem. Life stops running as smoothly as it should, and I miss God. I start to worry that I’m planting bad things in my future by failing to pray.

My son was a big distraction when he arrived. Constant demands were placed on my wife and me. She became absorbed with his care, and she often pulled me away from prayer. I have had to fight this ever since he was born.

Lately, things have gotten a lot better for me. I have been praying for God to give both of us grace to spend time with him so we won’t be destroyed. I ended up telling my wife I was done getting up in the morning and feeding our son, because that time was reserved for God. She stopped waking me up and asking me to feed him, and things have improved.

Unfortunately, there is a down side to spending time with the Holy Spirit. He makes you realize how filthy your world is.

I was praying in tongues earlier, and I kept thinking about the corruption of this world. Look what a bizarre situation I live in. I am surrounded by powerful sexual perverts. These people used to be a tiny fringe element.

Not only are they not ashamed (as they should be), they have parades during which they prance about completely naked, in front of kids. They get people fired from their jobs for refusing to endorse their disgusting ways. They make Internet videos in which they threaten to kill normal, decent people for trying to prevent them from exposing their genitals to women and little girls in private areas. The police don’t go after them.

Imagine if normal people were threatening to kill them.

Human beings who are sufficiently high-functioning to read and write, bathe and clothe themselves, and even, in some cases, to have jobs are telling us they belong to the opposite sex, or to nutty “genders” that weren’t invented until about 2022. “I am a tree-sexual.” “My gender is cat.” And mainstream leftists defend them!

When I was born, which wasn’t that long ago in man’s history, things were completely different. Sexual deviants were still being arrested. Better that than the scenario in which we now find ourselves.

People who openly worship Satan are now able to force us to let them lead prayers before government meetings. Satan! The greatest idiot and malefactor who has ever existed!

In the United States, which was once a Christian country, witches routinely gather to curse conservatives and Christians, and we can’t do anything about it.

Our last president invited illegal aliens to come in. Invited them! And half of the population thinks he was right!

As I prayed, I was lying in bed recovering from a man-made plague. Man-made! How could that happen? What species other than man could be stupid enough to give itself a plague?

Every year or so until I die, I can expect to get a disease that didn’t even exist until some fools in China created it. Say what you want about earlier generations; they weren’t dumb enough to make their own epidemics.

Entire sectors of humanity have been weaponized by Satan. They have become, literally, insane. Delusion is now mainstream.

This is especially true of mainstream American blacks. The things they believe are too ridiculous for farce. White people cause all of the world’s problems. There was no slavery until white people created it. Math is racist. Blacks can’t be racist, even if they hate whites openly. Absurdities.

Blacks started a movement to cripple law enforcement over a tiny number of illegitimate killings by police, but they ignored the fact that most murders are committed by blacks, and most of the victims are black.

After decades of idiotic affirmative action, which punished the innocent and rewarded people who caused their own problems, we are still being told that “reparations” have to be provided. You would think that receiving millions of jobs and college admissions other people earned would be considered reparations.

Hordes of confused, godless leftists in the US now feel entitled to physically abuse conservatives, whites, and Christians wherever they find us. A bunch of them just attacked a Christian gathering in Seattle, and the mayor blamed the Christians. Just like Nero.

America is no longer safe for Jews. Not just America, but long-established sanctuaries like New York City and our universities. A group of Jews were just set on fire by an illegal alien–a Muslim terrorist–on an American street.

Our leftists, including many Jews, are kissing up to Muslims and siding against Jews. Sexual deviants are loudly marching in solidarity with Muslims who murder homosexuals as a matter of course. Feminists are siding with Muslims whose religion supports wife-beating, the punishment of rape victims, and barring women from driving.

Anyone who tries to speak a word of helpful correction in this crazy world is punished and silenced. People are too proud to be helped.

Somehow I’m supposed to raise a son in this place. A place where every kid is supposed to have a smartphone, and they routinely send each other pornography they have made.

I can’t send him to school because schools are like pools of infected pus, waiting to fill him with the mental and spiritual diseases of our time. I can’t take him to church because churches persecute the Holy Spirit and fill people’s minds with trash. I can’t let him watch TV unless I want him to be lectured about the glories of homosexuality and socialism. I can’t take him to Disney World unless I want him to see perverted employees selling princess costumes to boys. The movies are out. Secular music is out. I’ll have to cut off most kids who want to be his friends.

What kind of world are we living in now?

If I send him to college, they’ll do their best to convince him Christianity is just a plagiarizing myth structure based on earlier religions. They’ll teach him to fornicate; with other men if possible. They’ll give him bad grades for telling the truth about socialism, slavery, racism, and perversion. I guess business is the only option for him. And he’ll have to operate his business in a very red area unless he wants trouble.

I really hate this place. I can’t say it enough. And when I consider what it should have been, it makes me feel worse. There shouldn’t be any countries; we should all be united as brothers and sisters with Yeshua as our king. There shouldn’t be diseases and wars. Even animals should get along with each other. We should have abundance. We shouldn’t have worries.

After Yeshua returns, the world is going to be like a big petting zoo. Animals won’t kill each other any more. It will be safe to put a baby down next to an asp. We will soak in God’s presence all the time. We will find joy in helping each other. That’s what the world was supposed to be like from the beginning, but instead we have Miley Cyrus and P Diddy. Harvey Weinstein and Lena Dunham. Kim Jong Un and Barack Obama. The Bidens and Kim Kardashian.

Sit down for a few minutes and make a serious effort to imagine a world of love and agreement. Then consider the world you live in.

The sooner the rapture comes, the happier I will be. I don’t know how people who are closer to God than I am stand this place. It’s bad enough for people like me.

The only answer is to go deeper into God’s presence. Turning back isn’t an option. There is nothing behind me I can go back to!

I can’t wait until this is over. This place needs to be incinerated and rebuilt from nothing.

That Big Head Must be Good for Something

I thought I would keep a private diary about my baby son, and I failed utterly, so here I am again, keeping track of him on the web.

I started moving web material about him to the private diary, so I guess this is good enough.

He is past three months now. We are told he is supposed to double in size between the day of his birth and the four-month mark, and he is on track. He can’t fall short by much because he is so close already.

He is fat. He now has two baby rings on each arm. His head, which was not small to begin with, seems to be as wide as it is high.

He is developing very quickly. He is remarkably strong. I used to think babies were like rag dolls full of suet, but he feels like there is spring steel under the fat.

Every morning, I lift him up by his hands. I saw a doctor do this, and he said my son had four-month strength at one month, so I figured I should keep doing it to keep him strong. I lift him almost to a sitting position, and then I lower him again, and I push his arms back down against his chest so he gets resistance on the down stroke.

His arms used to straighten as I did this because it was hard work for him, but now he’s so strong, he doesn’t notice the strain at all. He keeps his arms mostly folded on the way up, effortlessly, for 10 repetitions. I find it a little shocking.

He loves being lifted by his ankles. The wife said to lift by his calves so I wouldn’t hurt his ankle joints, so that’s what I do now. It gives him a thrill.

I use this to distract him sometimes. When he’s whiny, I lift him up and let him hang upside down, and he giggles with joy.

He can’t get enough of math class. By “math class,” I mean I hold my hand out in front of him and show him numbers while saying their names. I’ve mentioned it before. I make a circle for zero, I extend a finger for one, and so on, up to 5. This way, he gets exposure to 6 numbers, which is the best I can do with human hands.

When I started doing it, I wondered if it would make an impression on him. It certainly has. He stares at my hand and grins, entranced. It consumes him. Truthfully, it can get tiresome. I can go for pretty long sessions with no decrease in his interest. I didn’t realize a baby could focus attention on anything for 10 minutes or more.

I also show him the numbers in random order. Seems like a good idea. My wife gives him math class, too.

We got him some plastic letters and numbers, and we will be showing them to him in a day or two.

Sometimes he looks so mature it’s hard to believe. When I hold him to feed him, he looks like a smart, dignified, attentive little boy. Like he has shown up to join me for an important job for which he is well prepared.

He has started to hold his bottle now. Sometimes he holds it for quite a while. He often needs help, though.

Pooping is less traumatic for him than ever. Sometimes he still cries, but generally, he just growls and shoves it out. Unfortunately, he likes doing this while feeding or, worse, while sitting by the table in his swing while we feed.

He is now interested in solid food. He stares at it while we eat. If web sources are right, he might take some at the beginning of his fourth month. That will be a bittersweet milestone. Bitter, because solid food will make his poop stink and take all the humor out of dealing with diapers.

It has gotten harder to take candid pictures of him because he is interested in phones. Sometimes he’ll start grinning and giggling in a way that would make for a great picture, but when I take the phone out, he turns serious instantly, staring with great intensity.

He still has a lot of blowouts. The other day, he blew out before I got up. I showered and changed him. I fed him as soon as I changed him. He had a blowout while I was feeding him.

He liked lying on his belly when he was younger, but my wife got the idea that it would hurt him, so she quit laying him on his stomach. This appears to have set him back. We started doing it again, and for several weeks he screamed like he was on a hot stove, and he was no longer able to hold himself up well. Now we make him deal with it, and he is holding his head up very well and complaining much less. I put him on a firm surface when he’s on his belly so he can get traction to work on crawling.

The back of his head is flat, and it worried his mother, but the back of my head is flat, too, and I slept on my stomach a lot. I think most people’s heads are flat in the back. I’m not deformed or anything. My head is about like other people’s, only bigger. My wife thinks he has a flat area on one side, but the web says these things correct themselves fairly well eventually. And like I told her, we can always buy him a hat.

I think he has a great personality. He may be a little high-strung, which is what every parent who has a brat says, but he seems to try to behave. He soothes himself by sucking his fingers. As I have noted before, he very clearly tries not to cry. I think he prefers to be happy, which is definitely not true of everyone. We all know a lot of people who aren’t happy unless they’re upset and sharing their misery.

Crying is a way to manipulate others, so many people would much rather cry than calm down. They know that if they stop screeching, people will be less motivated to do what they want. I think it’s wonderful that my son doesn’t enjoy crying.

Interacting with him gets more rewarding all the time. It’s a blast. Sometimes he seems noticeably more advanced than he was the day before. He recognizes us from across rooms. He knows what a smile is, and he reciprocates. My wife says he can tell what kind of mood she’s in. I guess she would be more sensitive to that, since I’m nearly always in the same mood.

He’s very jolly when I play with him. He loves being rolled and tossed around. He loves playing with my fingers. He even likes having his cheeks pinched gently. He lights up when I’m with him, so now I miss him more when he’s not in the room. Back when he spent most of his time screaming, there was somewhat more duty and somewhat less enthusiasm in my heart when I went to spend time with him. Now I live having him around just for the fun.

As I told my wife, the peaceful, productive intervals between crying fits, diaper changing, and feeding are getting longer and longer.

He still gets very, very excited when we’re playing. This is something I can’t explain. There is some quality I have that allows me to connect with other creatures and get into their bubbles, like we have everything in common. They get excited. It’s like we’re caught up in a strange, private celebration.

It happens with animals. It happens with people. Now it’s happening with my son.

I don’t do it all the time, and it doesn’t work universally, but it’s real. My wife has seen it many times. I do it with her, now that I think about it.

Maybe it’s rooted in the way I have been rejected. I have an instinctive desire to show other creatures they’re accepted and understood.

It doesn’t mean I’m nice all the time or to everyone, as anyone who reads this blog knows.

I have certainly rejected a lot of people.

He is still very pink. I don’t know what kind of white genes I have, but they must be super strong white privilege genes, because he is not nearly as dark as most biracial kids. His hair is a very dark brown with no curls. His eyes are a strange color between brown and blue. He isn’t as dark as most Cubans.

I don’t know what’s happening with the hair. My hair is not far from straight, but when I was his age, it was curly. His mom’s hair is obviously kinky. Where did his straight hair come from?

His palms and the soles of his feet are considerably brighter than the rest of him, so his mom’s genes didn’t just roll over and play dead.

We are starting to look into ways to seat him at the kitchen table. High chairs are standard, but some people prefer portable boosters that can be attached to dining chairs. We are also going to have to get him a playpen, because he will be ambulatory to one degree or other very soon.

I wonder what his capabilities will be. I have long wondered if “genius” just meant “smart kid whose parents started developing his brain and talents on time instead of waiting until it was too late.” Is it true? Can’t say. I know I’m not going to wait until my son’s potential is mostly gone to get him started on learning. Whether he turns out to be a genius or not, there is no reason why he shouldn’t speak 4 languages and sight-read at the piano when he’s 6, and he should be able to do calculus at 12. He should have his potential tapped, unlike the vast majority of American kids.

It’s clear to me that we teach high school sophomores things we should teach 4-year-olds.

I really, truly hated school. It was indescribably boring, and while I didn’t dislike other kids, I found it frustrating that a lot of the other children couldn’t understand things I understood. Classes were necessarily retarded to the point where the least-capable students could keep up, so nothing ever challenged me except the climbing rope in phys. ed. class. My mom taught me to read when I was three, but other than that, my parents taught me nearly nothing. They thought teachers would do it. All I learned was to look forward to weekends and summers.

Cramming should not work. If a class really requires three months, it should not be possible to master it in three days prior to an exam. Because cramming works for smart people, it is clear that we are teaching many kids way too slowly.

Cramming worked for me in law school, which is supposed to be difficult. I always say I learned I could work hard all semester and usually get an A, or I could work really hard for three days and get a B. I chose to drink a lot, I had a great time, I graduated cum laude, and my average was 3.something. I knew summas, and I was smarter.

A physics student can’t do nothing for 11 weeks and then study hard and get a B on a test. Physics is hard, and less-gifted students aren’t around to slow everyone else down, the way they are in liberal arts and law classrooms. By the time you get to second-semester university physics, everyone around you is at least pretty smart.

Here’s a horror story. Someone taught me multiplication when I was in kindergarten. Not well, but I knew what it was, and I could have memorized my times tables. I can’t remember who taught me. It was in a classroom.

I was ready to do 4th-grade math, but no one cared. It was 4 years before my school taught me the times tables. During that time, should have been moving into algebra. I did as close to nothing as possible without getting in trouble, but when I took a test in the 6th grade, my ability level was still grade 11.5, so obviously, I could have been learning more during those dead years. The only kid who beat me was David Sedaka, the Jewish kid whose responsible parents made him study. He made 12.4. And he shouldn’t have been in retarded classes, either. There was no algebra at my elementary school, so I guess he was stuck. Maybe he had other classes at Hebrew school.

He’s probably a neurosurgeon now. And sight-reads.

It’s amazing that we raise kids who don’t speak at least 4 languages. A human being who isn’t smart can learn 10 languages and never be confused, and we pick languages up very, very fast when we’re small.

My son will not have his potential poured down the toilet like mine was, so while he may not be the next William Sidis, he will be much more capable than kids with the same potential and ineffective parents. He won’t say “liberry” and “I could care less.”

He’s going to read the Bible, and we will explain it to him. We will tell him about the Holy Spirit, and unless his free will prevents it, we will baptize him with the Spirit and teach him to speak in tongues. He will know he has to have at least two sessions with God every day. He will be taught that God is a person who knows him and loves him, and he will be shown how to spend time with God. Every revelation God has given us will be passed on to him. If he blows it, it will not be because his parents failed at their most important job.

I don’t know if I want him to be a genius, but I want him to be fully developed. I will be the first parent in my family since my great-grandparents, at least, who will make a responsible effort.

Professional Nice Guy

Happy Passover. I don’t call it “Easter” because Easter is a filthy, evil, damned spirit worshiped by pagans. I don’t call this day Resurrection Day unless it doesn’t fall during Passover. My understanding is that today will be Passover until sundown. Correct me if I’m wrong.

Speaking of correction, I saw conflicting dates on different Jewish sites. A Reform site says Passover ended yesterday, but Chabad says it ends today.

“Reform” is a funny word in this context, because it means “to correct.” The Reform movement started because somebody decided to correct God.

“Correct” is a synonym for “righteous,” so “Reform Judaism” means “Judaism made righteous.” The self-imputed righteousness came from Reform Jews, so they must be, literally, self-righteous. Like nearly all Christian denominations. The Catholics have given God all sorts of corrections. They pray to dead popes and baptize babies who have no idea who Yeshua is.

Indulgences are still a problem. The Catholic Church says it has never sold indulgences, but the catechism says you can get one by sending money to support pilgrimages, and the difference is not all that clear to me. This is much like Walmart’s policy, which says I can receive a barbecue grill by sending money. Granted, Walmart isn’t in the pilgrimage business, but money is fungible, so if I give an arm of the Catholic Church money for pilgrimages, it means it loosens up money they can use for other things. Not that they need it, with their gigantic real estate empire.

They say they don’t worship saints. They say they venerate them. And dictionaries define “worship” as “venerate.” That’s interesting.

Reform Jews can eat pork and practice homosexuality, so they are pretty liberal with their corrections. Messianic Jews can also eat pork if they want, but it’s not quite the same thing, since they believe God himself permits it. They can’t be sodomites, though.

Speaking of the self-righteous, I saw an interesting article today. Dwayne Johnson, who calls himself “the Rock” for reasons never made clear, has told the world he is sad because of the sick and dying fans he has communicated with. He never gets tired of positioning himself as the nice musclehead everyone is obligated to love.

Yeshua says the actual rock is the rock of Holy Spirit revelation, as demonstrated by Peter when he said Yeshua was the son of the living God. Professional wrestling and action movies are not mentioned in the Bible as means of salvation.

The identity of the rock is another thing Catholics got wrong. They think Yeshua meant Peter was the rock, meaning he was supposed to be the first pope. Popes are supposed to be infallible in matters of doctrine, however, and Paul corrected Peter’s doctrine publicly. In reality, popes are far from infallible, and the early church didn’t have one.

If Johnson is trying to cheer up sick people out of love for humanity, that’s very good. But overall, it’s not an inspiring story.

First of all, how do celebrity puff pieces get published? How is it that a journalist might find out Johnson was sitting in his house looking at correspondence from sick people? Did the journalist stake out his mansion and use a telephoto lens? Did he hack Johnson’s phone?

No. Johnson put a video of himself on Instagram. He wanted the world to know what he was doing. Yeshua told us not to act like that. The fleeting admiration of human beings is all you get. Okay, you might also make some money. There is no further reward.

So how did this turn into a news story that almost literally glows?

Here’s a fact everyone should be aware of: news outlets are prodded and often paid to publish puff pieces. It’s not just puff pieces. The press gets a great deal of its material and personnel through networking. I’ve written about this sort of thing before.

My sister was a “legal analyst” for Fox and CNN. She appeared on panels as a “former prosecutor.” She liked to brag about this, as though Bill O’Reilly and Dan Abrams had crawled to her home on their knees, seeking her out because of her great reputation.

In reality, she paid a publicist named Terry to call network connections and get her gigs. And she was never vetted. Right now, if you called enough news outlets, you could almost certainly find yourself some gigs as a former prosecutor or even a judge. They won’t check. Tell them you’re an astronaut. See what happens. Say you’re the king of France. It might work.

My sister was not an exemplary prosecutor, and she parted with her employers less than amicably. She ended up suing them.

If you’ve ever gotten the impression that news show panelists were unremarkable and lean on competence, you were onto something. Their main appeal to the networks is their availability. People who are good at their jobs are too busy to do free work on demand.

Back when my sister and I were on good terms, I helped her research for some appearances. I helped in the sense that I actually did the research. She couldn’t speak competently on cases without cramming. And if you listened to her, you were really listening to me.

You don’t get chosen for network panels because you’re successful. You become successful because your network appearances get you business. My sister got all sorts of calls because she was on TV.

Now we have a pretty good idea why Johnson’s Instagram was picked up by the press. He put it out there himself, and he probably had his publicist send some emails. The whole thing was probably the publicist’s idea.

Why criticize someone who cheers up sick people? I think there’s a good reason.

This is an old man on bodybuilding drugs. Don’t question it. When he was a football player at the University of Miami, he had a full-time strength coach, and the man he was then looked like the little sister of the man he is now. Smaller muscles and no definition.

He was smaller when he was a pro wrestler than he is now, and the WWE ran on steroids.

I know a little bit about the strength program at UM, because I was a UM student. I knew a player who looked like a Marvel hero. Muscles bulging all over him. I saw him a few years later, and he was somewhere between Chris Rock and the pre-Ali Will Smith. All the bulk and definition had vanished, along with the tone. You would never have guessed he was even a high school player, let alone college. He didn’t look athletic. The strength coaches at UM surely did an excellent job with Johnson, who was young and full of a young man’s testosterone (if not other things), but he is much bigger now.

Dwayne Johnson is using dangerous drugs to make himself big, and he is also holding himself out as exactly the kind of nice guy kids should look up to. So what are kids going to do when they want to be like the Rock and they find out no amount of clean lifting will get them anywhere close? A lot of them are going to take drugs. Just like their idol.

Very few of them will have riches similar to Johnson’s, so they won’t have capable doctors to oversee their drug regimens. They’ll shoot up in gym locker rooms and hope for the best.

I guarantee you, there are thousands of boys and men who admire Johnson and have taken drugs so they could look like him.

Johnson admits he grew breasts and had them cut out by a surgeon. Why? A condition called gynecomastia, which means “woman breasts.” It’s caused by estrogen, and it happens because people use drugs.

When you use steroids to bulk up, and you shoot up too much, your body may convert the extra testosterone to estrogen. Then you grow breasts. It’s a common problem with drug lifters. They have a crude name for it. I don’t know what they do to fight it now, but they used to take something called tribulus terrestris, thinking it would block estrogen and keep them from growing breasts.

Johnson didn’t have breasts as a college player, so where did they come from?

Other bodybuilding drugs also cause serious problems. Like, for example, death.

It should bother people that an old man who uses drugs to make money and make people think he’s something he is not is promoted as a positive role model.

Anyone whose kids think Johnson is great needs to sit them down and talk to them about drugs, pride, honesty, and the filthiness of professional sports and other types of show business. Yes, sports is show business. That’s why stadiums have all those seats.

Johnson isn’t going to look the way he does his whole life, unless he dies pretty soon. I wonder how he’ll explain the change.

He wouldn’t be the only celebrity to shrink. Arnold Schwarzenegger took enough hormones to power an army of Charlie Sheens, and when he had to quit, I was able to tell people, completely honestly, that my body was better than Arnold Schwarzenegger’s.

Celebrity chef Robert Irvine also appears to be off the juice. On his TV show, he had a huge upper body. Now he’s skinny. He’s so thin, it makes his head look enormous. What happened?

He says he hurt his arm and had to change his routine temporarily. So he shrunk all over? It doesn’t work that way. And his injury was several years ago, so why is he still skinny?

I think his doctor or common sense told him he couldn’t stay on the juice, so he quit.

He says he ruptured his triceps. He probably ruptured a triceps tendon. Steroids build your muscles better than they build connective tissue, so tendon ruptures are common.

He seems to have lost a lot of his swagger. He used to bust up old restaurants with a sledge. I’m not sure he could pick it up now. He used to come across like a nightclub bouncer, ready to get in people’s faces and intimidate. Now he scans more like a high school drama teacher.

He moves differently now. He used to swing his arms around as he talked, as if he wanted everyone to see his arm and torso muscles. Now he holds them close to his sides as though he is holding a gold bar under each arm and doesn’t want it to fall. He seems to want to hide himself.

Muscle drugs are like pride. They pump you up and make you look more impressive than you are.

Johnson said something about not knowing what to say to his sick fans. A Christian filled with the Holy Spirit would know. A Christian could introduce them to Yeshua and put them on a path to supernatural visitations. A Christian might be able to help them get supernatural healing, which is very common. A Christian could help them lose their fear of death.

Celebrities are very poor substitutes for God. They’re like baby bottles full of Kool-Aid.

In other news, my son is changing fast.

When he first popped out, my son was like a potato that cried and pooped. As days passed, he improved. We got some giggles out of him. He started grinning. He cried less. Now he appreciates music.

I have been determined to develop my boy’s potential. Not to make him a genius I can show off but to improve him as a person and prevent major regrets, like the ones I have because my parents taught me so little. I only learned one foreign language. I can’t sight-read while playing an instrument. I was in my thirties when I mastered calculus and became a physicist. My son WILL learn to sight read and play. He WILL be able to write tunes out in proper notation. I may make him learn to sight sing. These skills should be considered basic in a civilized world.

People say you can’t make your kid learn music. Those people are stupid. We make kids learn all sorts of things.

Yesterday, he was crabby about something. One of the hard parts of raising a baby is figuring out what’s wrong with him. Tired? Hungry? Dirty? In pain? Eventually, you have to add “bored” to the list. Last night he was bored. He was grousing and squirming, so I put him on his electronic educational mat so he could bang the toys and kick the music keys. He got engrossed, but that only lasted a while.

It occurred to me that his mat played terrible music, so I decided to find something better. I have a Christian music playlist on Youtube, so I turned it on, picked him up, and made him listen. I bounced him around in time with the beat, and I sang to him.

He lit up like a pinball machine. He smiled with his entire head. He was overjoyed. He couldn’t get enough of it.

We had played music for him before, and my wife had sung to him, but we hadn’t sung to him while listening to good songs, and we hadn’t connected him to the beat. When I put everything together, it worked.

Now I’m going to have to do this with him every day, unless I can make his mother do it sometimes. I’m going to have to find more songs. When he’s far enough along, I will have to do the unthinkable. I’ll have to get him a drum.

My old guitar teacher told me rhythm was the real heart of music. He said the wrong note at the right time was the right note, but the right note at the wrong time was the wrong note. I believe a rhythm instrument is the path to sight reading, because the hardest part of sight reading is reading the rhythm.

I felt very emotional during our session. Some of the songs were very moving, and it was moving to share the experience with him and see his breakthrough. Sometimes I found it hard to sing.

Now I have to ask myself if I should try to play music again, for his sake. If you haven’t made music with other people, you haven’t gotten the full experience. Do I try piano again? Should I break out the guitar and banjo?

One song we listened to was Alison Krauss’s version of “I’ll Fly Away.” Krauss is from the area my parents came from. My aunt knows one of her musicians. “I’ll Fly Away” is an important gospel song in Appalachia. Krauss’s rendition uses bluegrass instruments.

As I listened, I thought about how my bridge to my own people had been burned. I didn’t burn it. They did.

Eastern Kentucky culture is too flawed to take part in. Childishness, racism, drunkenness, drugs, adultery, violence, corruption…I could never go back. But it’s not just my heritage. It’s my son’s heritage. He’s not black. He’s biracial.

My wife gets angry when light-skinned American blacks call themselves black. She says, “I’m black. They’re mixed.” We have to check “black” on forms for my son, and she does not like it. It’s a denial of the most important part of his heritage. He is never going to live in Zambia.

I can’t really connect my son to Appalachia, unless we move to an area where the people have grown up. If he’s not a Kentuckian, what is he? A cultureless person. His only culture will be Christian culture. I suppose that’s for the best, but it’s sad that I can’t introduce my son to the place I used to love.

My mom and dad were real Kentuckians. They were born at home, between hills. They ate the food. They lived the lifestyle. I’m more like Dwight Yoakam, who were raised in another state by parents from Kentucky. I can reach either way.

I don’t know where my son fits in.

There will be no reason for him to see Kentucky. A lot of my family’s surviving members chose money, land, and possessions over me. My sister lives there, but she’s Satan incarnate. All the nice properties in which I owned an interest in are gone.

If I went to Kentucky, I would only tell one cousin and aunt. Other relatives, whom I used to love visiting, come to Florida and don’t tell me. They get most of the family together for holidays, and they haven’t invited me, ever. I have never done them wrong. Not even once. But they have certainly done me wrong.

I never stole anything from my grandparents’ estates. I never tried to charge for doing work on the estates. I never swindled any of my relatives. They’ve done those things to my aunt and me.

Oddly, they made soulless sacrifices, but I’m the one who ended up well off and joyously unemployed. I’m well enough off to never miss the loss of what they took from me. The misery of hiring a lawyer and battling them would be much greater than the pleasure of being repaid. My standard of living would not improve.

What they took isn’t enough to put any of them in my position. Apart from one aunt, the ones who are doing well had to get almost all of it elsewhere. If you’re going to sell yourself, you should at least get a good price.

I would have to become like them in order to scrap with them. That is not a price I am willing to pay, because I understand something they never will.

I knew my mother’s and father’s cousins. I knew my great aunts and uncles. My son can forget all that. My wife’s family is in Zambia, she’s an orphan, most of the relatives I knew are dead, and almost all of the rest will never be close to me again.

When relatives died in the past, it went without saying that I would go to their funerals. Now? It might be awkward.

When my dad died in 2019, the aunt that has turned on me declined to go to his funeral. She had known him for over 60 years. She was in her vacation condo in Naples, and she said she had an appointment to have it measured for blinds.

We were on good terms then. But she needed those blinds.

I flew to her husband’s funeral. I flew to her son-in-law’s funeral. Things used to be very different.

You wouldn’t think listening to one song with a baby would bring all this to mind.

I can’t fix other people. We live lives of joy and love here, all by ourselves, and I have Christian friends who fill the places my relatives used to occupy. That will be more than enough.

Flag Down for Bringing a Walker on the Field

Someone on the web created a thread asking for unpopular opinions. When I saw it, I knew it was destiny. This is what I was made for.

I did quite a bit of writing. For one thing, I pointed out that pizza doesn’t go with beer. That must have made heads explode.

Pizza is acidic and a little sweet. It often contains oregano, a bitter herb. Obviously, you don’t pair that with a bitter beverage. Soft drinks and red wine go with pizza. Tea is acceptable. Beer? Insane.

I think people who drink beer with pizza are generally low-end beer drinkers who drink to get drunk. I think they must be people who drink really bad beer, chilled to the freezing point to kill the awful taste. People who drink stuff like Bud and Coors always drink it as cold as possible, and the reason is that when it warms up even a little, it tastes like seltzer with soap and a little sugar.

I think these people are likely to eat bad pizza from Papa John’s or Domino’s, and they just want something to wash it down and give them a buzz.

Beer goes with steak and rib roasts. It goes with Mexican food and seafood. It works with cheeseburgers and fries. Forcing it to get along with pizza is ill-advised at best. And nothing is worse than smelling other people’s beer-and-pizza burps while trying to eat.

If you think beer goes with everything, go eat an apple and chase it with a beer. It’s right up there with toothpaste and orange juice.

I also said Elvis was a lousy singer. It’s true. Elvis became famous because he caused girls with weak fathers to become sexually aroused. His early performances were basically riots, with little bacchantes fighting the ushers, tearing off their own underwear, and throwing it on the stage. People forget that. Today we make fun of people who call rock and roll the devil’s music, but it’s true. Any music that makes you throw your dirty underwear at people has some connection to hell.

Women still throw their dirty underwear at entertainers. It’s gross. They throw it at Justin Timberlake, for example. They throw it at the kind of guys who look like they take it home and put it on.

They should have men in Tyvek suits gather it and put it in medical waste bags. Someone could catch something.

Sinatra also mesmerized young tramps, but he was also an excellent singer whose style was innovative and unique. Jerry Lee Lewis was a much better singer than Elvis. Sam Cooke was far better. There were a lot of excellent male singers back in Elvis’s heyday. Nat King Cole. Eddie Arnold. Jim Reeves. Ray Price. Johnny Mathis. Ray Charles.

You can go into restaurants and bars today and still hear Sinatra recordings. Elvis? Not so much. It was never about the sound. It was about the pelvis.

I complained about sports worship. I said that if I wanted to watch overpaid illiterates work, I’d turn on The View.

I said I didn’t like it when people assumed I watched sports. People come up to me and try to make small talk about men I’ve never heard of, playing games I didn’t watch. “How about that Mahomes?” Who?

I pulled that name out of the air just now because I’ve seen it in headlines. I don’t know who he plays for or what his position is.

What if I went up to random men and said, “How about that Carl Friedrich Gauss? Is he the GOAT, or what?” He’s a fascinating guy. How can they not find him interesting? We wouldn’t have electronics or, well, any kind of serious technology without his discoveries.

Some guy responded and said I must have been rooting for Taylor Swift and the Chiefs.

How thick can a person’s head be?

Me: I never watch football. It would be great if the stadium where the Super Bowl was played was obliterated by a meteor and replaced with a Buc-Ee’s.

Him: You must have been rooting for Taylor Swift and the Chiefs.

What?

This is completely typical of my experiences with sports fans. “Resistance is futile. You will be assimilated.” They can’t believe a man who doesn’t watch sports can exist. It’s like they’re under a spell. And they are. Demons are filling their minds with absurdities.

It also bugs me when men with hurt feelings try to tell me how empty my life must be because I don’t watch sports. What possible reason could you have to be angry at me for not sharing all of your hobbies? Do I get mad at you for not knowing how to weld?

I look down on you, sure. But I don’t get angry.

Kidding.

Yeah, my life is empty. I love my wife, and I spend a lot of time having fun with her. I don’t turn the TV on as soon as I get on and ignore her while I fill the house with obnoxious crowd noises and pray I don’t lose my ill-informed, emotion-driven bets, which I didn’t tell her about. Oh, the emptiness.

I have all sorts of time for my interests, like prayer, cooking, shooting, writing, and using tools. I get to spend time with my pet. I get to sit in the recliner with my son on my chest and relax in an atmosphere of pure love.

Empty, empty, empty. It would be so much better to be outside a stadium, trying to dodge as kids try to spit on me on my way in. I’d really rather be paying $11 each for cups of extremely bad beer and then standing in a quarter-inch of other people’s urine in packed men’s rooms. I long to get caught up in post-game brawls where people fight to defend the reputations of spoiled young athletes who pay armed men to keep fans away from them.

If only I could spend 4 hours fighting traffic, trying to get home from a stadium after my team lost, avoiding eye contact with drunk road-ragers and praying I don’t get stopped at a DUI checkpoint.

To get average seats for my three-person family, I’d have to shell out almost $500. I would happily pay $100 to be allowed to stay home.

But I must have been rooting for Taylor Swift and the Chiefs.

For $500, I can get my son a brand-new CZ 457 Scout in .22LR, and he can hand it down to his son. But no, I’d rather watch grown men play a game created to amuse children. When are the duck-duck-goose playoffs?

On a related note, I said Bill Burr was an idiot. A lot of men think he’s a genius and the world’s last straight shooter. A regular guy with a platform. Hello? It’s an act, and he’s an entertainer. If he were telling the truth, they wouldn’t call it an act.

Rock Hudson made romantic comedies with women. Just saying.

He’s not smart, and he’s not one of us. Normal men, I mean. He’s just another showbiz liberal, kissing the rings on the hands that feed him.

He has crippling TDS. Right after dozens of people died in the unnecessary LA fires, he appeared with another fool, Jimmy Kimmel, and made jokes about people who criticized California’s fire preparation and response. He ridiculed them. He stupidly asserted it wasn’t possible to put fires out with ocean water. He didn’t even think about the insensitivity of doing all this while bodies were literally still warm.

California and LA officials themselves have admitted they blew it. They admitted it in Donald Trump’s presence soon after Burr made an ass of himself. Talk about jokes aging badly.

Burr says he–“HE”–doesn’t get tired of winning football games. He supports the Patriots, and he uses the words “I” and “we” when he talks about them. “I don’t get tired of winning.” “We won.”

If Bill Burr is still capable of running 40 yards, he would probably do it in a minute and a half. On the field, he would move like Joe Biden trying to find his way off a stage. You could measure his vertical leap with a feeler gauge. His most likely tool for stopping an NFL pass is his forehead. Who is “we”?

You know those videos of drunken fans rushing onto football fields, careening around at 6 mph, and then having angry players turn them into Tex-Avery-style murals? That’s what a Bill Burr NFL cameo would look like, except maybe he would keep his shirt on. They would peel him off the turf like a fruit roll-up and bury him in a map tube.

If Bill Burr played in a game, he wouldn’t sit on the bench. They’d bring in a hospital bed and a bag with a zipper on it.

Bill Burr has never “won” a game. The people who win are paid to be there. If you have to pay, you’re not part of “we.”

Ticket Taker: Ticket, please.

Bill Burr: Ticket? I have to get in! We’re playing today!

Ticket Taker: Okay, pops. Ticket and DNR.

Burr says he feels bad for days when “WE” lose. Seriously? I don’t mean to be insensitive, but if the plane carrying the New England Patriots flew into a bus carrying the Kansas City Chiefs, I would be fine. I would be very sorry to see it happen, I would feel bad for everyone who knew them, and I would probably pray for their loved ones, but 15 minutes later, I’d probably be watching Paul Harrell videos on Youtube.

If your emotional wellbeing depends on how well a bunch of total strangers play a game you stink at, you need an intervention, because your life is devoid of meaningful pursuits. Burr felt jolly and sassy after dozens of people died in fires caused by incompetence, so maybe something in his head needs to be adjusted.

Some people got annoyed with me, but that just proved I was doing it right. If they wanted me to make them happy, they should have posted a popular opinion thread.

Forget College and Fauxnouns

I just read an interesting article purporting to relay smart advice from old people to young people. The purpose was to help the young avoid the mistakes of the old.

The advice seemed inconsistent. One person said the young shouldn’t work hard to build up their wealth, but another said it was important to invest while young. Some advice was just stupid. One person said people should not rush to marry in their twenties.

I can think of some good advice I wish I had received.

1.Yeshua is mandatory, not optional. He is your God. He is everyone’s God. He is the God of every Jew, regardless of what rabbis say. He is the God of atheists and every sort of pagan. You have to give yourself to him and submit to him. If you reject him, your life will be pointless, and you will eventually be condemned to burn alone forever. There is no reincarnation. You can’t try again. You get one shot.

2. You have to know the Holy Spirit. It seems to be possible to escape damnation without knowing the Holy Spirit, but without him, you will never mature, you will believe all sorts of lies and errors, you will lack the power to help yourselves and others, and you are much less likely to be able to introduce your children to God successfully. You are supposed to pray in tongues every day and experience the gifts and fruit of the Spirit. You need at least three prayer sessions per day.

3. Bless God. I don’t mean thank him. I mean speak blessing to him, like Jacob blessing his sons. “In the name of Yeshua, I bless Yeshua, Yahweh, and the Spirit of Holiness. Their names are honored and made holy, their kingdom is come, their will is done, their children are multiplied, and their enemies are defeated, on Earth as in heaven.” Things like that. God will speak blessing to you, too. Yeshua commanded us to speak blessing to God. He had a reason. Bless yourself, your spouse, and your kids. If you’re a kid, bless your parents and siblings.

4. You should marry early, especially if you’re female. If you are raised to know the Holy Spirit, he will choose someone for you, so you don’t actually have to spend 20 years sorting through applicants in order to protect yourself. You’re not qualified to choose your mate. Only God can do it, and he is willing and eager.

If you’re a woman and you wait till you’re 30, you may have a lot of trouble conceiving, and you will be more likely to lose your baby during gestation. You are also more likely to have children with defects. You will regret not having a family much more than you will regret not having a career.

5. Have children. Paul suggested there were people God had created to remain single, but they are rare, and you’re probably not one of them. If you know the Holy Spirit, he will tell you if you are. We were created to please God and help him reproduce. Our children are really his children. And a big family can be very helpful. Family members look after each other.

6. Don’t live in a city. Satan’s children are concentrated in cities. You will always be at odds with the people around you, and when they rise up and become terrorists, you’ll be right there where they can get at you, and your city’s government will back them up.

7. Keep non-Christians at a distance. Not just unbelievers, but backward Christians who pull you down instead of pulling you forward. Don’t marry them. Don’t have them as close friends. Don’t partner with them in business. Avoid working for them if you can.

8. Give to people in need, as the Holy Spirit tells you. God will bless you and protect you from your enemies, and he will bring you wealth.

9. Cut off everyone who makes you miserable. They came from Satan. Being alone is better than being suppressed and abused by idiots. Before I got close to God, I had a pattern of making friends with overbearing, condescending people who let me down and treated me like a child. I haven’t had a friend like that in maybe 14 years. It’s wonderful that they are not part of my life now. I would never let them rekindle our friendships.

I had a college buddy I thought was a friend. Eventually, God showed me what a liability he was. To be honest, he was a jerk. He lied all the time, mainly by embellishing stories to the point where they became ridiculous. He couldn’t admit fault. He was undependable. He had a bad temper; he couldn’t hold his liquor, and he liked to pick fights when he was drunk. He punched walls and windows. He was a racist. He used racial slurs like “Jew boy” when he was angry at people.

There were good things about him, but on the whole, he was a drag.

One day he contacted me and asked if he could come to Florida and go fishing with my dad and me, and I realized I just didn’t want to be around him any more. I turned him down and let him know I had grown apart from him, and that was that.

I’ve never missed him. We never did anything worthwhile together. We never helped anyone. We never prayed. We drank and amused ourselves with worthless pursuits. I was no asset to him, either. Our friendship didn’t add any value to either of our lives.

If I were still running around with him, it would be a chore, not a pleasure.

9. Never lift anything you don’t have to. Always ask for help with anything that takes serious effort to lift. In one second, you can put yourself in a back brace for life. It has happened to millions of people.

10. Never exert as much force as possible with your muscles. For example, never try to see how much weight you can lift. It’s at the extremes of effort, which are unnecessary, that we hurt ourselves.

11. Invest. You want passive income that multiplies. You will never get rich by working more hours at an hourly rate. You get rich by making people and things work for you.

12. Don’t go to college unless you’re certain you need to. It’s very expensive, and it will cut four productive years out of your life. You will be indoctrinated and surrounded by filthy people. If your college friendships last, it probably means you’re immature and a failure at life.

If you want to be rich, start a business and make investments. The richest people on Earth aren’t doing anything they were taught to do in college. They’re not professionals. They’re investors and businessmen.

Elon Musk doesn’t build rockets or cars. He runs the businesses that build them. He never picks up a tool. He doesn’t design anything.

On the low side, at a college that will not impress anyone, college will cost you over $100,000. On the high side, several times that. If you’re like most people, you will waste 3.5 years memorizing Cliff’s Notes and taking subjects you can learn just as well on the web and at libraries. It’s an unparallelled waste.

I called a guy about landscaping. A young man. He has a truck and a few employees. He told me his net worth was around a million dollars. What’s the average net worth of a 30-year-old English major?

A young guy charged me $7500 for a day of tree cutting. He had several trucks, multiple employees, an enormous crane, and a diesel grapple that probably cost six figures. He probably brought half a million dollars’ worth of equipment to my house, and he had other jobs.

He never had to learn anyone’s fauxnouns (my name for them) or attend orientation lectures about groveling for confused, bigoted, dangerous perverts. He has never had to pay Marxists to lecture him.

13. Keep your kids out of public education, and if you send them to a private Christian school, watch them like hawks. Hold everyone at the school accountable. Look at the textbooks. Go to every meeting. If you see effeminate men and masculine women on the faculty, pull your child out while there is time.

14. Never, ever, EVER trust a man who likes being around other people’s kids. Scoutmasters. Priests. Funny, witty male teachers who wear bowties. Camp counselors. Youth pastors. Your single uncle who keeps an immaculate house. It is not normal for a grown male to want to hang around with children.

15. Read a lot, but don’t waste too much time on fiction. The fiction establishment rewards the children of Satan with money, awards, and wide distribution. Fiction is full of rebellion, sexual sin, and misinformation, and very little of it includes God. You would be wise to avoid reading any fiction written after 1900. You don’t actually need it.

16. Don’t eat a lot of carbohydrates. Don’t listen to the nonsense about whole grains being good for you. They may be less bad, but that’s about it. Carbs cause obesity, diabetes, tooth decay, strokes, heart attacks, arthritis, high blood pressure, dementia, and a whole bunch of other things it is pretty much impossible to get from animal products and non-starchy plant foods.

17. Music, travel, and books are not luxuries. They are necessities for people who want to be fully developed, so don’t be afraid to spend on them. Learn an instrument, and make your kids learn instruments.

18. Buy cameras and learn to use them. Your descendants will be grateful.

I wish I could take advice as well as I give it, and I wish I had had this advice when I was younger. My children will receive all of it, and they will be better off than I have been.

We Could have Done Better

Today my wife told me leftists are criticizing conservatives, saying we’re hypocritical for using the homosexual song “YMCA” to promote Donald Trump. I told her I agreed with them.

I don’t really think conservatives are hypocrites for promoting homosexuality. I was speaking loosely. Christians who promote homosexuality, including songs like “YMCA,” are hypocritical.

You can be very conservative and very hostile to Christianity. You can’t be Spirit-led and be anything but conservative, and all leftists who claim Yeshua is with them are wrong, but you can be conservative and hate God. You can be a witch or a homosexual or whatever else you want.

Maybe there are people who don’t know the history and meaning of the song. There must be, because there are adults who don’t know Joe Biden was an object of universal ridicule for about 30 years. There are adults who have no idea Bruce Jenner was a gold-medal-winning Olympic athlete.

“YMCA” stands for Young Men’s Christian Association. During the last century, many big cities had YMCA’s. If you were male and you didn’t have much, you could rent a room and get fed very cheaply at the YMCA, or the Y, as most people called it. When comedians joked about poverty, they would mention the Y. “My wife got my house, and I’m staying at the Y.”

There was also an organization called the Young Women’s Christian Association.

At some point, homosexuals started taking over YMCA’s. These were places full of vulnerable young men who needed money and opportunities. They were same-sex environments. They had dormitories. They had shower rooms. What more could a sexual predator want?

I’ll digress, as I usually do.

I won my city’s spelling bee, so my local paper flew my mother and I to DC so I could be in the national bee, which I lost because I spent, literally, one or two minutes studying. I didn’t realize what the contest was. They gave people a word list that was supposed to be helpful. Obviously (now), the point was to learn all the words on the list. I didn’t do that. I thought, absurdly, that the bee was about aptitude. That makes no sense. An aptitude test would require everyone to spell the same words.

The people who ran the bee brought a celebrity on board. A homosexual, now that I think about it. Will Geer, best known for his role and Grandpa Walton.

What? You didn’t know he was a homosexual? I didn’t, either. He was a hard core red who ran with a very unsavory crowd, and he also liked the boys. He served as a sort of emcee for the bee.

I have only asked for one celebrity autograph in my life, and it was Will Geer’s. My mom kept pushing me to ask. I thought autographs were stupid. At the final banquet, as he was making his way to the front in a weird, attention-seeking getup comprised of a grey suit and something like a Navajo blanket, I stood up and yelled, “Mr. Geer! Got time for an autograph!” I felt like an idiot, and he probably agreed. But graciously, he walked over to me and signed.

They brought the kids together for activities. One activity was a guessing game. They sat us on a ballroom floor in circles. Each one of us had a sheet of paper on taped to his back. On the sheet of paper, the organizers wrote names. The names of famous people. Our job was to ask questions and figure out who was on our backs.

I got absolutely nowhere. I don’t recall, but I’m sure the other kids were no help when I asked questions. They had an easier time. Their celebrities were people like Gerald Ford and John Wayne.

I was extremely frustrated.

Eventually, they told us to look at the names. Guess what my paper said on it. “Bette Midler.”

I am not making this up.

I asked, “Who is Better Midler?”, pronouncing her last name “MY-dler.”

At the time, she was not well-known to most Americans. She had had a top-selling album the year before, but she was years away from doing any acting.

Who was she popular with? Homosexuals. She had built her career performing in homosexual bathhouses where homosexuals gathered in the dark and sodomized each other without so much as an introduction. Bathhouses helped spread AIDS far faster than it could ever have spread among heterosexuals.

Gaetan Dugas, the airline steward who has been called “Patient Zero,” used to spread AIDS in bathhouses, deliberately. He would have sex in the dark with men he didn’t know, and then he would show them his Kaposi’s sarcoma lesions. He told them he had “gay cancer” and that they had it, too.

My memories are hazy, but I think there was a famous Y on 72nd Street where Midler performed. A lot of information from that era has been censored.

Imagine, thinking a junior high kid would know who Bette Midler was during the Ford administration.

I suppose there were some friends of Dorothy helping run the spelling bee. “Everyone knows Bette! She’s fabulous!”

The song “YMCA” is about sexual predators luring young victims to a homosexual hangout so they can be groomed and sodomized, hopefully with consent.

“Young man.” What do homosexuals like? Young men. After all, they’re men, and men love young bodies. Sorry, ladies. A woman who is a 9 at 16 is likely to be a 4 at 40.

“You’re in a new town.” You have no support system. There is no one to protect you. You are highly motivated to do what you have to in order to get food, shelter, and a job.

“You can get yourself clean.” A strange thing to mention. It’s a reference to the showers.

“Put your pride on the shelf.” No need to explain that.

“YMCA” was created and performed by the Village People, a homosexual group whose members dressed as straight men in very masculine roles. A construction worker, a motorcycle cop, an Indian chief, a cowboy, a soldier, and an outlaw biker. I think the costumes varied a little.

Homosexuals who take the female role want straight men to fall in love with them and have sex with them, which is obviously not possible, so they cosplay as straight men. They want to be Cinderella, but Prince Charming could not be more grossed out.

Another digression.

When I was in junior high and high school, I knew a kid I’ll call Renaldo. Renaldo’s dad was some kind of businessman. He had a reputation for abusing people and being dishonest. One day, the cops found his dead body on a bench at a park beside Biscayne Bay. The park was two blocks from my house and one block from Renaldos’ house. Renaldo’s dad had killed himself. The rumor was that he was going to be charged with crimes.

I just found a newspaper reference saying he overdosed. He was 49.

Renaldo was very gay, and he loved to perform. His mother was very submissive, and he was nasty to her and told her what to do. Renaldo was very tough and assertive. I recall him as a person who did not start trouble with anyone in school, but I saw him humiliate a little bully with no fear whatsoever.

One day, I happened to pass their house, and I saw that Renaldo had turned their garage into a stage. It had obviously been built by professionals. The garage was filled with a raised platform.

Renaldo was on the stage in a straw hat, a jacket with green and white stripes, and white pants. He was holding a rattan cane out in front of himself, as performers used to do, and he was singing and dancing.

Very odd.

Some kids were in the driveway, watching.

When we were in high school, Renaldo and I carpooled. A group of parents divided the job of transportation up, and one day a week, Renaldo’s mom drove us in her metallic-green Olds Toronado with a white vinyl top.

The Village People came to town during this time, because their song was very big. Our school was in Coconut Grove, which was a homosexual neighborhood. While we were headed to school one day, Renaldo told us the Village People had stayed at the Coconut Grove Hotel while in Miami, and he had stayed with them.

So he would have been around 15, and he was staying with grown men, presumably enjoying Bible studies and receiving tutoring so he could pass math. I’m sure.

I’m not saying statutory rape was going on. For that matter, I’m not even saying Renaldo actually stayed with the Village People. But he said he did.

The last time I saw Renaldo, we were at our 10th high school reunion. AIDS had ravaged the homosexual population. I have seen estimates saying 20% of them died. AIDS used to be a death sentence. People died horribly, with diarrhea and vomiting. Some looked like skeletons. They died covered with big black growths.

He was living in New York. I think he was somehow involved with the theater, but I doubt he was performing. He had no talent, and he could never have passed for straight. A 1990 credits list for an obscure movie says he was an assistant casting director.

Regarding AIDS, he said he no longer had friends. He said he had acquaintances. Very sad. AIDS had gutted his social circle.

It was fitting that the Village People stayed at the Coconut Grove Hotel, in Miami’s gayest area. They named themselves after Greenwich Village, and the Grove was Miami’s homologue.

Anyway, now you know all about “YMCA.”

Anyone who thinks Trump is a Christian figure is wrong. I think he believes, but he’s a secular-minded president. He appoints homosexuals. A homosexual helped him win in Pennsylvania. He’s not going to go out and crusade for Yeshua. He’ll be better to Christians and Israel than a Democrat, but he dances to a song about homosexual predation, and he knows what it means. He’s not a sign that America has turned around. Things will continue to deteriorate.