A Circuit Board is not a Mother

I believe God is giving me more revelation, and it should have a very positive affect on my son.

I have been determined not to let him become whiny, rebellious, or belligerent. Three of the main traits that define Americans born after 1950. He is becoming all of those things anyway, and I believe electronics are largely to blame.

Of course, his mom is enabling him, and that’s a deeper cause which is independent of electronics. This is what mothers generally do. They think babies are more fragile than they are, so they don’t like to challenge them, and who doesn’t like giving babies what they want?

Dads exist to keep kids from turning into Jaden Smith.

I try not to enable his mother to be an enabler, but I know I do it sometimes. It’s laziness, in large part. I don’t want to tussle over every decision. Also, it’s unrealistic to insist on fighting every possible battle. If I do that, she may become resentful and uncooperative, and she may become discouraged because she gets so much criticism and so little praise.

A lot of the time, she goes along with me right away when I lay down the law, but there are more disagreements than there should be.

With regard to the toys, I think God showed me they are sugar for the mind.

When you ingest too much carbohydrate, your glucose and insulin levels shoot up and your metabolism becomes permanently corrupted; permanently in the sense that it never goes away without a change in diet. This leads to shorter height, obesity, type two diabetes, rotten teeth, strokes, heart attacks, arthritis, ugliness, dementia, poor marriage and employment opportunities, and all sorts of other problems. Amputations. Impotence. A smorgasbord of destruction.

It used to be hard for people to jack up their blood glucose. Human beings weren’t good at raising grain, and honey was pretty much the only source of purified sugar. We ate things that didn’t support glucose spikes. Then we got better and better at refining carbs, and people got shorter and less healthy. That’s where we are today.

Electronic toys are like big bowls of sugar. Before electronics, if a kid wanted to make interesting sounds with an instrument like a toy piano, he had to bang around on it and experiment. This took determination and effort, and the rewards were slow to come, but adequate. Now my son uses the same finger to push the same button over and over, and he can hear the “B-I-N-G-O” song 300 times in a day if he wants. He doesn’t have to learn which piano keys do what. He doesn’t have to experiment or use his memory. He expects, and gets, instantaneous hypergratification.

Naturally, this conditions him to have no attention span and zero perseverance (except when whining), and it teaches him that anything other than whining that doesn’t give him an instant, overwhelming reward is not worth pursuing.

It makes him feel that something is wrong when everything isn’t exactly to his liking. This is what destroyed my sister. She once admitted that the reason she became a drug addict was that she could not stand the way she felt when she didn’t get her way. She has always been willing to sacrifice huge future blessings in order to get her way for the next 60 seconds. The Esau mindset.

I hope he enjoyed that soup.

My son is not old enough to be permanently damaged. His brain is still very plastic. He’ll recover fast. This will help him not to become a little socialist cyborg ninny who lets Tiktok do all his thinking for him. He will realize electronic doodads are not necessary or part of him and that he can think and act on his own. He’ll develop the ability to put off gratification. He’ll be able to make himself work.

My wife and I are working to wean ourselves as well. I’m getting much better about stepping away from the PC. She has developed a hump on her neck from looking at the phone, so I keep reminding her to turn off the garbage and do something else. She asked me to hold her accountable.

Feminism is a horrible thing. One of the important things it has untaught us is that a proper husband is a parent to his wife as well as his child. Women rage and scream when they hear things like this, but it’s true. A man is supposed to rule his house. Women are less stable and reliable, and nutty ideas tend to enter families through them, just as they come in through kids. The man is the woman’s anchor, and God is the man’s anchor. His seabed, really.

It doesn’t work when the man is a typical post-1980 baby who sits around playing video games and watching sports all day instead of submitting to the Holy Spirit. An anchor is useless without something to hold onto.

I suppose people will say that if you raise a kid without screens in front of him all day, he will be socially crippled and unfit for employment in the modern world. That’s a load of manure. I was 24 the first time I used a personal computer, and I do just fine with technology. Bill Gates is older than I am. So was Steve Jobs.

In related revelation, I have been learning a lot about the power of influence. I really have to do more to disconnect myself from non-Christian culture.

Last night before going to sleep, I watched a few minutes of Anthony Hopkins at work. I was thinking about how I enjoyed the way he delivers the English language. He takes pretentious Hollywood drivel and speaks it in ways that make it sound wise and deep. It’s very pleasant. Like having your wise old father calm your fears by taking away your uncertainties. What he actually says doesn’t matter.

I turned off the tube and started praying, and I found that when I talked to God, I sounded a little bit like Anthony Hopkins.

I have no respect at all for Anthony Hopkins. I don’t mean I dislike him or think of him as a low life. I just mean he’s an actor, not a man of conspicuous virtue or intellect. He plays make-believe for a living. It requires very little effort or training. It requires almost no intelligence at all. Actors are like mynah birds. An actor who is barely smart enough to read may be able to mimic brilliant people so well that everyone who watches him feels they are watching a true genius. This happens all the time. I have no reason to listen to anything Anthony Hopkins says. There is no evidence that he has anything intelligent to say.

Nonetheless, for a short time after I watched him briefly, he influenced me. It was as though his spirit had soaked into me like water into a ball of rags. Then it wore off like water evaporating.

I’ve noticed this behavior in myself many times. Sometimes it’s helpful. You can put me in a room with nearly anyone, and I will be able to talk to them about their little corner of existence as though I knew more about it than I do. I seem to become like them, like the main character in Woody Allen’s Zelig.

My wife saw me do this in Turkey. Some guy dragged us into a rug salon, and the first thing you know, I was talking about my dad’s Isfahan Mashad rug that got stolen, and little things I knew about rugs came out. I probably told him about my dad’s valuable Bokhara prayer rug, which I gave to the Salvation Army. The guy was surprised. He got a completely unrealistic impression of my knowledge of rugs, and we made a connection because of that. I couldn’t help it.

My experience with Anthony Hopkins and his worthless, idiotic TV show drove something home to me: I have to cut off bad influences in my life. I have to do more than I have done. Americans love to say bad influences are fine for adults, as though we were immune, but it’s not true. We’re just tall, hairy kids.

The principle doesn’t just apply to speech and mannerisms. It applies to our beliefs, drives, and desires.

Decades ago, God showed me that if I spoke in tongues a lot every day, he would transform me so I would be like him in my heart and mind. Recently, he pointed out that the time I spend away from him has the opposite effect. The Spirit pulls me forward, and non-Christian activity pulls me back. I keep fighting for the same ground over and over when I could be moving forward and taking new ground.

Last night he reminded me that actors and singers are mainly degenerates. They are failures with no future beyond this life. They have no souls. They will do or say absolutely anything to get approval, fame, money, and power. They are just carnies with more money.

Most are not bright or educated. Most have destructive, Satanic morals. They go in and out of rehab. They kill themselves. They commit every imaginable type of sexual sin. They get rich and die broke. Their kids are worse than they are. They are very trashy people. Yet we pay to subject ourselves to them every day, and we don’t foresee the problems this causes. We don’t see that it harms us in making us pattern ourselves after losers.

Cindy Crawford is an amazing person. Her son just died from a drug overdose, while staying at a rehab facility. I’ll explain why she amazes me.

Was it really a rehab facility? I have to digress to ask. Rehab, which only works (long-term) something like 20% of the time, takes over a year. Anything shorter is just detox. I doubt he was in a true rehab facility. The places that take actors in and then vomit them back out in a month to go back to their sets aren’t doing real rehab.

Anyway, he died in a rehab facility, so someone gave him fentanyl there, or he smuggled it in on his own. Do I know it was fentanyl? No, but it was. Wait and see.

What did he do for a living? He was a model. He has one sibling. What does she do for a living? She’s a model. Modeling isn’t acting, but it’s part of the same big industry.

Cindy Crawford is amazing to me, because she took the time to raise kids she loved and then helped them become models.

By the time her son started modeling, it had been around 35 years since her own debut. She knew all about the modeling/fashion/entertainment industry. The sex-for-work system. The rapes of kids as young as 14. The forced starvation. The drugs and drunkenness. She knew the kind of degenerates who run things. She posed naked countless times. She did a nude fornication scene in a bad movie. She was familiar with the sleazy atmosphere. She had seen countless people destroyed by the industry. And she led her beloved children into it.

Why?

Because she wanted them to be successful? Not a good excuse. Their dad is very rich. Their mom is very rich. They have connections. They have the power to set kids up in business. They could have put them in professions. They could simply have given them investments, which doesn’t harm kids who have been raised with good character. Crawford could have worked hard to keep her kids out of the snake pit that made her famous, but she encouraged them to jump into it, and look what happened. It was foreseeable.

There were other ways to make the kids wealthy, and in any event, you don’t have to be as wealthy as Crawford or her husband to have a wonderful life. An awful lot of people with much less wealth have excellent lives and healthy families.

Clearly, she thought she was doing something smart. She thought her kids would be fine. She was thrilled with their career choice. She was proud of her children. She loved her son. She didn’t want his job and his milieu to kill him at 27.

This shows the kind of decisions we make when we don’t have the Holy Spirit in our ears. Incredibly stupid. Obviously stupid. But we don’t see what’s wrong. We listen to other voices.

I guarantee you, millions of people around the world admire Crawford today, in spite of knowing the poor choices she made. They think she did a great job, because her kids were famous.

The herd instinct has lulled us to sleep. We think whatever everyone around us does must be jim dandy. We don’t even give common sense a nod.

I have been foolish. I have pulled back from the world, but not far enough. Our culture is worthless. It is dangerous. We are soaking ourselves in poison and excrement every day and expecting the best.