I Pulled Out my Beam; Pull Yours

I’m sure everyone who reads this site has been unable to sleep, wondering what became of the Kenyan lady I talked to on the dating site.

Fear not. I will escort you back into the arms of Morpheus.

To recap, I decided to take a look at interracial dating sites, for reasons already explained. I have had many amusing encounters with African Internet scammers, and I was not optimistic when I started hearing from women in Africa. I started talking to one anyway, and we had an incredible conversation. After that, I vetted her on the web. She checks out. She is the same person who has been posting on Youtube and Twitter for years. She’s a very seriously lady who hates BS, and she has put up a number of Twitter posts chewing out crooked Kenyan politicians and essentially saying God would soon smite them with boils and mighty emerods.

She didn’t literally say that, but you get the picture.

Our first conversation seemed extremely encouraging, but yesterday, I barely got a response from her.

It occurred to me that I had already failed one test as a potential leader. I had had a marvelous encounter with an extraordinary woman, and then I had failed to lead by asking her to agree with me in prayer for guidance as to whether we should continue. I emailed her and apologized, and she sent a nice email back. In it, she suggested I look into Kenneth Copeland, Jerry Savelle, and Kenneth Hagin.

AHA.

She believes in the American prosperity gospel. I said bad things about it in our initial encounter, so she withdrew to think things over. This was obvious to me.

Obviously, the thing to do was to send another email explaining that it was okay with me if she followed Copeland, and I needed to tell her I was okay with a wife who practiced the money gospel and gave money to rich preachers.

Yeah, right.

I doubled down.

This morning I sent a long email. To summarize, I said a man has to be a leader, and part of leadership is learning things first and passing them on to his wife. This necessarily means he and she will disagree on things until she agrees to submit and listen. I told her about the bad experiences I had had with greedy prosperity buffoons like Kenneth Copeland and Rich Wilkerson, Sr. I told her how I had criticized them publicly. I told her people had said I shouldn’t touch God’s “anointed.” I told her I had become wealthy while they were saying that, and they had not prospered. I told her I received the home and inheritance of a person who defended the money preachers. I said I cursed their ministries from time to time, and that I planned to keep criticizing them.

I am wondering what she’ll say if she responds.

The incel community has a useful but profane phrase. I will paraphrase it and say “poop test.” A poop test is a cruel, dishonest test a woman puts a man through in order to establish dominance and weed out men with spines. Women will say these tests are intended to screen out losers, but that isn’t true. Only losers pass these tests. They’re all about enslavement and hatred of men.

Women will do things like “running hot and cold.” This means she’ll love you one day and shun you the next. The idea is to use sporadic reinforcement to draw you closer. It’s the same thing that makes slot machines work. If a slot machine pays off every time, you’ll only pull the arm until you get what you want. If it never pays off, you’ll only pull the arm until you realize it. If it pays off unpredictably at random intervals, you may pull the arm until you get blisters and tendinitis.

Wife-beaters work the same way. A wife-beater can’t be predicted. One day he’ll be Prince Charming. The next, he’ll give you a fractured orbital. Women and kids learn to try to mold themselves in order to shape a wife-beater’s behavior. It doesn’t work, but it’s literally addictive.

Poop tests are abuse. Anyone who sticks around for them ought to donate his testicles to medical science, because he is not using them.

Poop tests are wrong, but clinging to your principles and seeing if your partner is right for you is right. It’s what I’m doing. It’s what Jesus did. He said incredibly rude things to people, and he accepted the fact that people who were offended shouldn’t have been there in the first place.

By the way, a reader recommended a video in which a dating coach gave three tests to give women. I thought it was kind of funny. Here they are:

1. Ask your true love to get you a cup of coffee.
2. Say you’re not going to do something she wants to do.
3. Ask her if she’ll sign a pre-nup.

It’s wrong to come up with contrived, dishonest tests, but I’ll say this: these are legitimate tests, not weapons of manipulation.

The second test reminds me of something that happened to me. I was dating a nutjob who will never be anything but miserable. Unfortunately, I was the love of her life. She had our future all planned out. She was smitten.

She asked me to go to a cat show. I had zero desire to do this, but I agreed, because you do things for people you love. No big deal.

On the day of the show, she arrived at my house very late, and she did not call or give me any warning. When she arrived, I said she needed to let me know when she couldn’t be on time. Again, no big deal. Off to the cat show.

On the way to the show, she had a nutjob moment in the car. The mask fell off. She started telling me I was angry. She said I had a “pissy” look on my face. She was furious. I had no idea what she was talking about. I had been wondering if there was anything interesting to see at a cat show.

I don’t recall whether we made it to the cat show. I recall that I dumped her. The cat show berserker conniption cut the cord, but it was a few days until I made it official.

She thought I ruined her life when I cut her loose, but I saved my own. She took forever to let go. I had to chase her down and force her to take the belongings she had left in my bedroom. Women leave things in men’s homes in order to mark territory and ease their way toward marriage. “If my stuff is in your house, you’re still my man, and this will blow over.”

Sometimes people give themselves poop tests. It wasn’t the first time for her. I remember sitting in the car while she berated some minimum-wage ghetto girl over a parking fee dispute that amounted to less than a Starbucks bill. The girl in the booth was not in a position to make the rules, and she was obviously very hurt. I told her to forget about it and drove off. I caught hell for that, and I learned something.

The way a woman treats other people she’s angry about is the way she will treat you when she’s angry at you. The same thing applies to men. If you like big, strong men who push other men around physically, get ready for dental caps and bruises you can’t hide with makeup. Your day is coming.

Anyway, again, poop tests are wrong, but standing up for God and the truth can perform their function for you.

Today I did exactly the right thing, so I feel good. I’m not sitting around wondering what clever move will make her love me. I wrote my email and got up and made some delicious buckwheat pancakes. She can accept me or move on. She says she believes a man should lead and a woman should submit. We’ll find out if she means it.

She is a bold person who has been rejected for telling the truth. Does she have the stomach to accept someone who speaks the truth to her?

Now you know what’s happening. Sleep well.

How Many People Have Seen a Good One?

It is 10:48 a.m. and I have already fielded several inquiries from women on online dating services. I have also received more unsolicited counsel from my friend Mike, and I am experiencing things I didn’t expect.

A young lady from a northern state contacted me. I haven’t responded yet. She is stunning. No other word for it. I looked at her profile. It says she’s mute and was born deaf. Her profile says she wants someone to love and respect her.

I have not responded.

She’s a good example of the kind of person I’m running into now: women I want to save.

My experiences on the two latest sites have been good, but I can tell women are not doing as well. They complain about men wanting cheap hookups or asking for naked pictures. I have had a few women with sleazy pictures contact me, and I am definitely hearing from dubious foreign women, but the problems are manageable.

I have learned that there are a lot of women out there who can’t find anyone who will treat them decently, and I have also been reminded that women get attached way, way too fast. that’s probably why the following joke exists:

Q: What does a lesbian bring to a second date?

A: A U-Haul.

Many times, I have seen people say women are really the pursuers in romance. It may well be true. When it comes to romance, women put out bait and wait for bites. That’s not what prey species do. It’s what predators do. Whether or not it’s generally true that women do the pursuing, it is certainly true that they often do, and they generally try to appear that they’re being pursued.

I feel like I’m being chased by puppies that want to be adopted.

Why do they want to be adopted? Love, children, money, and American citizenship, I suppose. Most women’s desires can be traced to these roots in varying amounts.

After talking to a few of these ladies, I want to take them all home. At least the Christians. I wish I could open an orphanage for women. But Solomon tried that, and it didn’t work out.

I have to wonder if God feels this way about people. We’re all down here being played by fallen angels, demons, people, and governments pretending to be saviors. They fool us and take advantage of us over and over. The real savior is up there wishing we would run to him.

I’m not saying I would be a great or even adequate husband. Just that I understand the desire to rescue the unwanted and unappreciated.

I am enduring culture shock from talking to foreign women. I told one I was working on my bathrooms, and she said she wished she were here to help. I said I wished she were, too, so I could sit on the couch and relax. I am a kidder. I thought she would send a joke in return. She said, “I would get you a drink.”

How do you deal with someone like that when you were raised in America? If I had a wife who treated me like that, I would be afraid for people to see it in public. I would feel like something had gone fundamentally wrong with the structure of the universe.

Is it a bad thing, though? If it is, then is it a bad thing when men serve in the infantry and women don’t? Is it a bad thing when a man pays all the bills? Is it bad when he jumps in front of her when there is danger? Is it bad when he opens doors and pulls out her chair for her?

In America, a man who does those things is coveted, except in areas where feminists have completely corrupted everyone, but a woman who brings her husband a drink is ridiculed, and the man is considered an abuser.

Isn’t this the feminist princess syndrome in action?

I find it hard to take things from women. I think it comes from having a sociopath for an older sister. It’s hard for me to see myself as someone women want and appreciate, and American men are taught to believe a woman is doing you a favor simply by being present.

I don’t know if I could get used to someone who gives back. American women are trained not to do that. It’s also difficult dealing with women who offer praise instead of a constant stream of accusations.

This is one of the problems with abusers. They ruin you for decent people.

I moved to Ocala from Miami, which is one of the rudest, trashiest cities in America. I was used to aggression, materialism, selfishness, arrogance, cruelty, dishonesty, and a pervasive lack of class. After I got here, I had a hard time getting used to kind, polite people. Even though I’m a Southerner, it took me a while to get back into the Southern groove. I moved here so I could live among good people, but still, I was not able to get used to them instantaneously.

The same principle applies to women.

Christianity has a second-mile principle Christians almost never talk about. They think it means you should occasionally do more for someone than he deserves. That’s not the whole story.

When two people have any type of relationship, each one owes the other certain things. Our natural tendency is to do a little less than we should. That forces other parties to do our jobs. It breeds resentment. It breeds mistrust.

When each party does a little bit more than needed, it’s very different. Each one feels as though he has profited. It helps a bond develop. It breeds trust and peace. It breeds gratitude.

A husband and wife need to do things they are not obligated to do. If it’s your husband’s job to take out the trash, you should take it out once a week anyway. If the wife is supposed to clean the bathrooms, the husband should do it sometimes without telling her. When each party does less than he or she should, the result is lack. When each party exceeds expectations, the result is increase.

When I read the remark about the drink, my first reaction was to think, “Boy, she wants a green card.” I’ve had that feeling before. When people in Miami did nice things for me, it often disturbed me. I wondered what they really wanted. It was a sick response created by systematic conditioning performed by trashy people.

What’s wrong with bringing your husband a drink? A lot of divorced women surrounded by cats could probably answer that question. I like doing things for women. Why shouldn’t a woman like doing things for me?

In 2021 America, I feel like I have to construct a defense for thoughtfulness.

It makes me wish I had been raised better. Somewhere else.

I feel like I should go on social media and broadcast some advice to incels: get away from the Northeast. Get away from California and Chicago. Women aren’t the problem. Not all of it, anyway. The problem is our selfish anti-male culture. Go where it’s weakest. And while you’re at it, take a shower, stop eating 10 pounds of Hot Pockets every day, throw out your video game consoles, delete your manifesto, quit posting on 8kun, cancel your sex doll order, burn your porn, quit lisping, and get off your mom’s couch. Stop being a flabby, spineless fruit. Try not to be such a dating landmine.

I can’t help all of these women. Maybe I can help one of them.

I Feel Positively Viable

Welcome to one of the weirdest days of my life.

As chronic readers know, I tried online dating briefly a couple of weeks back. To say it went badly would be an understatement. I got no attention at all from women who were not obese, elderly, or impossible to conduct a romantic relationship with due to severe appearance issues, but I heard from hundreds of African scammers pretending to be American ladies.

I quit because the contrast between my happiness before and after beginning the experiment was stark. I gained nothing, but I felt degraded and swindled. Ordinarily, you have to wait for marriage to feel that way.

A few days back, I had a sudden impulse. I felt I should look around and see if there were any sites dedicated to interracial dating.

Here’s something people don’t like to talk about: black women tend to die single. They are grossly undervalued as wives. Asian women are considered the most attractive, and white women come next. Similarly, Asian men are at the bottom of the food chain, but black men are considered very attractive.

Black women are much more likely than black men to be successful, a big percentage of black men are in prison or on probation or parole, black men tend to disfavor marriage, and the ones that do marry often marry outside their race. To make things worse, about 87% of American men are not black.

In addition, many white American men have the sense that white women tend to have princess complexes, and many take men for granted and treat them badly.

There are lots of very attractive black women out there rotting away, getting ready to start their own cat herds. Also, statistics say marriages between white men and black women are much more stable than same-race marriages and other mixed-race marriages.

I thought I would look at a couple of sites and see what my opportunities were. I was not optimistic, but you can’t score a hole in one unless you swing your club.

I learned a few things.

First of all, there are a lot of Africans on interracial dating sites. Plot twist: they admit they’re African. Presumably, a lot of them are not scammers. I’m sure many of them want green cards and are willing to do dishonest things in order to get them, but they can’t all be like that.

Second, I was able to get actual women under the age of 70 and the 300-pound mark to talk to me. That was new. In fact, it’s a little disturbing. Failure is easy to cope with. You just quit and move on. When you succeed, you have to go forward and keep doing things.

My volunteer dating coach Mike told me to put photos of myself in suits on my profile, and it seemed like he wanted me to soft-soap the women. I did the opposite. I said I owned suits and would be happy to send women pictures of them. I said I voted for Trump. I said I didn’t want leftist women lecturing me in my own house, so they didn’t need to apply. I said I had guns and didn’t plan to get rid of them for a woman. I said any woman who would be disturbed by a man getting up every day and praying in tongues for two hours should go away.

First thing you know, I got a message from a lady from Kenya.

Right away, I figured it was some scammer Sheneheh, hoping to tell me a sob story and get some money for liquor and prostitutes. I talked to her anyway, and I asked questions intended to find out whether she was legitimate.

She really startled me. She said we could pray in tongues together. She said she was drawn to my profile because I was a serious Christian. She quoted scriptures to me, and they were appropriately chosen, proving she had actually read the Bible. I asked her how she felt about tongues, and she said prayer in tongues brought us closer to God and brought us supernatural revelation.

Well, now.

After that, I figured she had to be real. Scammers are not sitting around reading the word and learning about tongues.

We talked for a very long time. I was flabbergasted. I was in such shock, I completely forgot to ask about the age difference, which is considerable.

Afterward, I wondered if I was being fooled. Every old man dreams of younger women who find him desirable. We believe what we want to believe. We see what isn’t there. We explain away what is there. This is how we end up homeless at 70 while our ex-trophy wives fornicate in our houses with our former pool boys.

She had given me her first name. Her town’s name was on her profile. I Googled. I found a Twitter account with her photos on it. The owner was giving crooked African politicians hell. It sounded like the person I had conversed with.

Still, a scammer could download Twitter photos.

The confirmation came when I found a Twitter post in which she quoted the same scripture she had quoted me, to prove the same point.

Unbelievably, I had communicated with an actual woman on a dating site, and she really was the type of person she seemed to be.

Is that even possible? It’s like a dream. It never happens.

I’m suspicious of anything that seems too good to be true, or even just barely good enough to stand, now that I think about it. This lady says she has a passport and a visa, and that made things sound worse. It made her sound like she was itching to emigrate. But she also says she would be happy if a man moved to Kenya to be with her.

If this lady is available, there must be others. Is this a resource I should have tapped sooner?

Another attractive lady contacted me today, and guess why she turned me down? I said I couldn’t see myself moving to Zambia. THAT is a sincere woman. The scammers all want to come here.

I’ve always thought online dating was for idiots, and I have cast a jaundiced eye upon men who import wives. It seems like a tacky enterprise, likely to connect a foolish man to a parasite who will drain his bank account and run off. But I met a real woman today. She exists.

Maybe my low opinion of importing wives is tainted by input from American women, who really hate the idea. They really, really hate it. It makes them furious. You can find their crabby remarks online. They say men are looking for “appliances with sex organs.” The reason they’re so mad? The foreign-wife industry highlights the fact that many men are fed up with American feminist women, and it also proves feminists don’t have a monopoly. It makes feminists feel threatened. Many of our post-Steinem girls don’t want to compete with, say, Thai wives who keep a great house, stay home and raise kids, dote on their husbands, and take care of their bodies. Also, as noted above, Asian women, who figure prominently in the importation business, rank higher than white women on the attraction scale.

Feminism is all about manipulation and exploitation, and you can’t manipulate your market if it has better options available.

I don’t know what to think. I’m still formulating my opinions concerning the whole business. I know this: an American woman is the last person on earth to consult at this point. It would be like asking Tim Cook what he thinks about Windows.

Having spent two weeks on a site where all I did was torment scammers, I am now in an unexpected situation. I have more legitimate contacts than I can handle, not just from Africa, but from America. And they’re not train wrecks. Many are beautiful Christian women, and I don’t mean beautiful for their ages. I never saw that coming. Weirdest thing of all: some of them are white.

I believe I have a couple of scammers, but they seem to be in the minority.

I don’t know what to do with these women.

If anything comes of this, I’ll blog it.

There Must be Others

Last night I had a very weird experience.

I have written about my decision to abandon online matchmaking sites. I got some interest from women who were totally inappropriate, as well as perhaps 200 African men pretending to be women. If I wanted to date someone who could be Joe Biden’s older sister, I would call my experience a qualified success, but that’s about it.

I wrote a blog post in which I said maybe it was time to accept permanent bachelorhood.

I felt pretty comfortable with it. My life is very pleasant, nearly all of the women who are in the pool men like me drawn from are unappealing to say the least, and I am well aware that marriage solves problems but also causes them.

So that’s the background.

Last night, I started wondering what had happened to Bevelyn Beatty. This is the woman who poured paint on the BLM vandalism in New York. They call it a mural, but it’s vandalism. It’s “Black Lives Matter,” painted in huge letters on a public street.

Beatty is possibly the bravest woman who ever lived. It may actually be a serious character flaw, because she seems to overdo it. She goes wherever she thinks she should go, and she stands up for God and the unborn. She stands close to pro-abortion escorts outside of abortion mills and tells them they should be ashamed of themselves. A BLM coward stabbed her in Washington, D.C. because she walked unarmed in that leftist stronghold after dark.

I used to subscribe to her Youtube channel because I admired her so much, and because it was nice to see a black female conservative Christian who wasn’t drinking the toxic, demonic, Marxist Kool Aid. I unsubscribed because I had no interest in political activism.

I checked in on her, and she says she has given up on conservatism, sort of. She has apparently realized Christianity isn’t political. All Spirit-led Christians become conservative, but not all conservatives are Christians, and the GOP is not going to save anyone.

She has a friend she runs around with, and she got her friend to give her testimony. I love hearing testimonies, so I started watching. I thought I would tune out in a couple of minutes, but the video was nearly 40 minutes long, and I watched the whole thing. I went back and watched parts of it later. It was wonderful.

Her friend is named Edmee Chavannes. She was born in France, to a Haitian family. She doesn’t say much in most of Beatty’s videos.

She gave a long account of her life, including stories about growing up in sexual ignorance. She had encounters with men, and she learned things along the way. She came close to losing her virginity, but somehow, it never happened. She believes God looked out for her.

She is about 40 now, and she is still hanging on. She said she should make the video in order to strengthen other people who are in the same boat and who feel like freaks.

She talked about her dedication to God. She and Beatty do street ministry in addition to making videos. She is completely sold out.

She said she hated socialism because she had seen it in France. She said that when they had problems, their first response was to go to the government, not God.

Think about this from a man’s perspective. People say, “Lower your standards. You will never get what you require. They’re not out there.” Then you see a nice-looking, godly lady in a video, proving the real thing still exists.

There are two realities: the reality of the cursed, and the reality of the blessed. If you’re blessed, you can’t make plans and decisions based on what happens to cursed people. The fact that other people have to settle for Satan’s table scraps doesn’t mean you have to.

I looked at a lot of profiles when I started fooling with online dating. My thoughts usually went like this: “She looks okay. Oh, boy…yoga. But she says Jesus is the center of her life, so maybe she would drop the yoga if I explained things to her. Horror movies? No, not in my house. Well, are they demonic occult horror movies, or just relatively safe movies about disasters and so on? Maybe I should give her the benefit of the doubt. ‘Libra’? Maybe she just needs someone to tell her astrology is a pagan religion. She’s wearing tights and a top that shows 9 inches of cleavage. Maybe a talk and a trip to Nordstrom would fix that.”

I was starting with a pool in which less than 1% of the members had any hope at all, and I was trying to scrape the dirt off the ones that remained so they could be salvaged.

You don’t want to expect too much from people, and you don’t want to be self-righteous and forget your own faults. On the other hand, I spent decades surrounded by people who didn’t meet my standards, and they mistreated me and made me feel worthless. I worked at cutting them off, systematically. I would rather die tomorrow than jump back in that cesspool. I consider their absence one of God’s greatest gifts. Taking them back would make me miserable.

If I believe I have to lower my standards and accept a worldly woman, am I not saying God can’t provide? Isn’t that the opposite of faith?

If this lady is out there, she’s not the only one, and if God is God, he knows where the others are, and if he wants me to meet one, it will happen. If he doesn’t, well and good. He knows best, and my life is great.

I admit, I wish life weren’t full of long waiting periods. I’m too old to enjoy the blessing of marrying an attractive high school sweetheart and raising kids. I am not likely to reproduce, and if I manage it, I will never see grandchildren unless I’m too frail to do anything with them. I believe the word says people who belong to God will return after the tribulation and lead restored lives on earth. That’s the only hope I have. But even if I can’t get the premium package in this life, a few years with the right person would still be a great gift.

I know; Abraham didn’t have a son by the wife he loved until he was 100. But he lived to be 175. That will not happen to me. Judging by the way my ancestors went, I may not make 90.

If I make it, I will live those years in a disgusting place which is even more hostile than it is now. This country is going to keep getting worse. I wish there were some place else to go, but historically, America was that place, and now the ship has been boarded by pirates.

Speaking of disaster movies, I saw one the other day. It was very bad. It was called Greenland. A comet was breaking up, and bits were hitting the earth. A big piece was on its way to cause the extinction of just about all terrestrial life. The government chose useful people and told them to get on planes so they could be taken to a shelter. The shelter was located in Greenland, which makes no sense at all. That’s the story.

A man, his wife, and his son were selected. The government didn’t know the son had diabetes, and when the family showed up for its flight, the son was rejected. It happened while the man was separated from his wife and son, so he got on a plane while they were in the rejection process.

People found out about the selection process, and they lost their minds in their determination to get on the planes. When the man found out his family didn’t make it, he jumped off his plane, and the rest of the movie was about their struggle to reunite and make it to Greenland.

By the way, all of the bad people in the movie were white. There was one black criminal, but he saved the lives of the wife and child. Several blacks and Hispanics helped the family. Welcome to Wokanda.

I watched the selfish, terror-stricken characters, committing all sorts of crimes in hopes of getting on the planes. I thought to myself, “What is wrong with them?” I watched the husband, who was tormented as he tried to decide whether to stay on his plane. I thought, “Here’s what you do. You get off, and you go die with your family. You don’t struggle with the decision. You go, without hesitation.”

If you know the world is about to end, your big priority shouldn’t be to behave like a rat and strive to survive in a hole. It should be to share love and comfort, not to mention salvation, with the people you love. Obvious?

The characters in the movie lived in an imaginary world with no God and no afterlife. They didn’t pray. They didn’t talk about God. I can’t relate to them. People like that live in a different reality. Even if they made it to Greenland, they weren’t going to survive. People wear out, get sick, and die, no matter what they do. If you’re not ready for that, you are in real trouble.

I can’t live a nice, long fairy tale life. My age and the state of the world won’t permit it. But maybe I can go through what remains of this age with someone I care about, and we can be together when it all ends. That would be worth a lot.

I’ll link to Emdee Chavanne’s video. Maybe some of you will enjoy it.

Maybe I’m the Real-Life Red Green

My friend Mike is still here. He is counseling me on being an online chick magnet, although I have not asked for help. I am getting more and more comfortable with the idea of accepting permanent bachelorhood. Either that, or I can wait till my body gives out and I require medical care, and then maybe I can date a nurse.

Single life is very good. As a bachelor, I will never have to buy someone else a new car even though I buy used. I will never have to be lectured about eating prime beef or anything else. There will be no arguments about recycling. I turned my dining room into an indoor workshop and gun room, and it can stay that way. I can drive however I like. I won’t have to listen to Celine Dion or any type of bad music. I will never, ever have to tolerate the presence of a cat in my house. I am the undisputed emperor of the TV remote. I don’t even have to go to the doctor. I can actually choose to die instead of getting old and wearing diapers. It’s pretty sweet.

As for doing without sex, well, most married men say they’re unsatisfied, too. In 2021, satisfying sex lives are generally things single women provide temporarily as marketing tools. When the ring goes on, the supply tapers off, as planned by one party prior to the wedding. At least I get to do without sex all by myself instead of doing without sex while lying next to someone who refuses to provide it.

Many wives push men away sexually, expecting them to remain faithful and caught up in the relationship. They don’t realize a man who is rejected sexually knows he has been rejected, period. He knows he has a parasite.

When a man marries young, he gets a springy, attractive girl who is anxious to lavish him with physical affection at least until she gets pregnant. When you marry at my age, you get something totally different, and you may also get three or four surly teenage kids who post Tiktok videos making fun of you and think you’re going to put them through college.

I’m starting to think I’ve become impossible to pair up. I’m like a convict who has been in prison so long he prefers it to freedom, except in my case, freedom is what I’m expected to give up.

“Let’s go to Paris!” “Can’t we stay here and weld up bases for my grinder collection?” “Let’s buy a new Cayenne!” “But the Dodge Cummins is only 12 years old!” “Let’s put on uncomfortable clothes and go to a cocktail party with vapid people I want to impress!” “How about if I just drive to the nearest railroad track and lie down?”

Women always want to do insane things that would disrupt a life like mine. Cruises. Dinner parties. Buying real furniture. Not shooting squirrels out the bedroom window.

It’s very disturbing to listen to Mike talk about his strategies. I know what he’s saying is true, but it’s like talking about what they put in sausage. He sounds like he’s humoring mental patients. “Suzy started cutting herself when we gave her 4 fish sticks, so we cut them in half and said there were 8.”

By the way, chorizos are made from hog salivary glands. When you eat chorizos, it’s not just your mouth watering. It’s theirs. Mmm.

It’s always disconcerting to hear how women view men and what their odd demands are. I already know these things. I didn’t just fall off the turnip truck. It’s still a bummer.

Mike says I need to go to dating sites and put up photos of me in suits and jackets. Oh, man.

Mike himself has bowed to pressure and posted suit photos. I don’t know if it’s a smart move. He may be drawing the wrong women.

Back before I abandoned my brief fling with online dating, I saw a lot of women’s photos. For the most part, they seemed to be dressed the way women usually dress, and they were doing normal things like sitting in restaurants or posing with their families. Some of the women were wearing things like jeans and T-shirts. Mike says men are not allowed to use photos like that. You have to wear the most expensive clothes you have, and you should try to look like you have a great credit rating.

If Mike is right, so was Freud, but let’s not go there. I think Freud has embarrassed a lot of people by pointing out the obvious.

When I put up my photos, I had exactly one to choose from, because mentally healthy men don’t take selfies. It was a picture of me with my goddaughter on my lap. I was wearing a Carhartt shirt. In order to provide variety and give women a fair and realistic view of me from the knees up, I installed a voice-activated photo app on my phone, and I took a picture of me standing in my yard in my usual getup: Carhartt jeans, a T-shirt, and work suspenders.

The photo proved I was not crippled or obese. It showed I was not a midget. It gave women a fair idea what I looked like so they couldn’t claim I tricked them. Job done.

I gave women a little credit. I thought, “Any intelligent creature will realize I can change my clothes for different situations.”

I am not sure why I took that attitude. I know better. Women tend to be drawn to possessions. Many women are physically attracted to men who drive expensive cars, and I have personally had a Swedish au pair I didn’t even know throw herself at me because I was standing on my dad’s yacht. We were at a fuel dock loading up on diesel for a trip, and she announced she wanted to go with us.

If you think the Swedes have a problem, it’s not your imagination. Sweden has the title of Europe’s STD capital.

Still, when I looked at women on Christian Mingle, that was how I saw things. I was well aware they could change their outfits. It never occurred to me to judge them by their clothing unless they looked like bag ladies. I projected my attitude onto women, thinking they had the same healthy outlook.

I am not impressed by women who always look perfect. Women who are too meticulous about their appearance are annoying. They take 90 minutes to get ready to go to McDonald’s. They destroy bathrooms. They think nothing of spending $15,000 per year on clothing which will be out of style in 12 months. They can’t do anything because they’re always terrified of getting things on their clothes, messing up their hair, and breaking nails. They can only walk on pavement and floors because of their shoes. They’re like beautiful couches that are always covered in plastic.

Women like that claim men should be grateful because they do it for men. Not true. They dress to make other women feel bad. They know perfectly well that men don’t care much about the way they dress.

When I was in law school and during the years that ensued, I put together a business wardrobe. I learned a lot about classic men’s clothing. I even bought Alan Flusser’s books. I am not one of those guys who need women to shop for them. In fact, most women have less knowledge and inferior taste. The only reason for me to take a woman to a store would be to have her watch me try things on and give me input on the fit.

All of my business shirts are bespoke. Not altered to fit. Bespoke. I don’t have to wear bespoke jackets and suits because altering off-the-rack jobs works well for me, but I have some bespoke stuff anyway. I designed my own bespoke tux with a special dark-black fabric that doesn’t turn green in flash pictures. My measurements are on file at Zegna and Ascot Chang. I have been to Turnbull & Asser and Paul Stuart. I used to buy bespoke shirts from Sulka, before it went out of business. I don’t have many ties that cost less than a hundred dollars.

I have Swiss watches. Women like them, and the wrong kind of woman can spot them from across a football field. They keep bad time, they bang into things, and they never fit right. I don’t wear them. A Rolex is no substitute for a cell phone or even a $20 digital.

Should I put this junk on just to attract women who judge men based on what they wear? The question is moot because I quit trying, but it’s depressing that we live in a world where it ever came up.

I didn’t spend thousands and thousands on clothing so I could look good to women. I did it in order to make other lawyers look bad, in hopes of getting an edge. It was a cold, conscious choice that had nothing to do with vanity.

I always say men’s faults are obvious. They’re obvious because people never stop yapping about them. Men lie to get sex, they commit adultery more than women, some of them beat their wives, and many men insist on living like spoiled single men after they’re married. That pretty much covers the important male faults, and everyone acknowledges them. Women’s faults are different. We’re not allowed to talk about them because it’s sexist. We pretend they don’t exist, and as a result, too many American women suffer from a persecuted-princess delusion. The woman is the prize; the man is the unworthy recipient who can never earn her and who must be subjected to a continuing series of tiresome tests throughout the relationship. Also, the man is responsible for all problems encountered during the marriage, including earthquakes and ugly kids who look just like the wife.

Maybe this is why the price of a man’s shoes matters.

I’ve heard women talk about their ideal men. If you’re a man, you do not want to hear such conversations. I’ve never heard them talk about things like religious compatibility, character, intelligence, wit, talent, dependability, useful skills, affection, or kindness. I have heard them talk about other things, most of which were pretty stupid. He has to have a cool last name. He has to be over 6 feet tall. He should be white. He should be a German. His eyes should be green, but not too green. The ring has to cost at least $20,000.

It’s so weird. Many women make lists of required options, like they’re ordering cars. Men don’t do that. We have very general criteria. You have to look okay. You have to not be a giant pain that makes me wish I were single or dead. You have to not bankrupt me. You can’t have incurable VD that will kill me or make me sterile. You can’t embarrass me every time we leave the house. Women’s lists turn into barriers that prevent marriage and benefit herds of future cats.

Bridezillas aren’t created by the process of planning weddings. The planning process merely reveals an existing disorder. Wacky lists are symptoms of the illness.

I am not comfortable with thinking of women as fish, and clothing and possessions as bait. If a woman wants the bait, she probably has little interest in the man himself. I completely understand why a woman would want a man to be financially comfortable and to dress reasonably well when needed, but it seems to me a woman who knows a man is an attorney with no debt and his own big house ought to be smart enough to realize he can put on a jacket when takes her out.

Not that there is any place to take a woman around here. I never thought about that until recently. There are some good restaurants here, but I don’t think I’ll be going to Nobu again any time soon. They will never build one here.

There are sane women out there, but they are vastly outnumbered by the others. I think putting out crazy-woman bait is a bad move. Maybe my Carhartt jeans photo was actually a useful, even vital, filter.

Anyway, I am not planning to go back to online dating, so it doesn’t matter. The more I write about single life versus my 20 days of online dating, the more grateful I am for what I have.

Recreation Wears me Out

I have been away from the keyboard because my best friend Mike is in town. When Mike is around, it’s like standing outside in the middle of a tornado. He is constantly coming up with things to do.

On this trip, he wants to learn to weld. He also wants to shoot guns, barbecue, scout properties for a second home, and possibly buy a storage container or a prefab steel house from China. Mike discovered China a number of years ago, so he is often on the phone with manufacturers, trying to get things made cheap.

He’s in town for a funeral, and he had his hip replaced a few weeks back, so you would think he would be taking it easy. Not happening.

Right now he’s visiting his nephew, so I’m getting a break.

He’s an unusual guest. Before he showed up, I changed the anode in the upstairs water heater, made sure I had sheets for him, and turned on one of the upstairs thermostats. I made sure the breaker for the heater was on. This morning, he said he had frozen all night, and he hadn’t had a shower. The hot water didn’t work, and the batteries in the thermostat were dead. I asked him why he didn’t tell me. He said he didn’t want to disturb me.

I went upstairs to check things out. The hot water worked fine. He just didn’t wait long enough to get it going. He had slept on a bed with no sheets. Yesterday, he assured me there were sheets in the upstairs linen closet. I expressed doubt. No, he was positive. Okay.

I had words of comfort when told me about his night. I said I had slept really well in a warm room with a big bed with clean sheets and an electric blanket, and I told him there was plenty of hot water in my bathroom.

I gave him sheets and a pillowcase, and I’m going to put new batteries in the thermostat. We’ll see how tonight goes.

This isn’t the worst problem he has had at my house. He stayed with me a long time ago, and he got a mild sunburn. I had some cold cream in my bathroom, so he rubbed it on his face, including his eyelids. What he did not know was that I had mixed capsaicin, the hot ingredient in peppers, into it. He didn’t ask. I had found that capsaicin worked for getting rid of little skin growths, so I made the cold cream concoction for that purpose. It turned out to be unsuitable for rubbing into one’s eyelids, and it wasn’t all that great for soothing sunburns.

He lives in New Hampshire, and he has had about enough. He loves this area, so he is thinking of spending about $25,000 on a small lot and plopping a shipping container on it. It’s a total Mike move.

Even though Mike is here, I am managing to do a little work on my new kitchen cart. One side of the steel frame is done, and I’m attaching crossmembers to connect to the other side I haven’t figured out what to do for wooden shelves yet.

I still want to build a woodworking bench. I’m making myself unpopular on various sites by criticizing existing benches. People are obsessed with “beefy” construction. Why use one pound of steel when 15 pounds will do?

I criticized a bench made by inventor Andrew Klein. It’s built like the Hoover Dam. I checked a table for engineers, and it looks like each leg of his bench will support over 50 tons, positioned upright and loaded concentrically. Am I a bad person for calling that bad engineering?

I have three-ton jackstands, and if you put four together, the bases would contain less steel in cross section than one of his bench legs.

Somebody tried to tell me you have to have “beefy” construction in order to do planing, chiseling, and sawing. I have a Black & Decker Workmate I can carry in one hand, and you can do all of those things on it, so how can it be that I need a 700-pound bench?

Engineering works. Why not use it?

I want to have a base held up on four 2″-square legs. I plan to splay them outward slightly because trapezoids resist flexing better than rectangles. Most people who weld legs on things are afraid to try to make anything but 90° angles, but when you make a box with lots of right angles, you’re building floppiness into it. If your plan was to make a heavy structure that flexed in spite of its great mass, you would definitely want right angles.

When you try to flex a trapezoid by pushing sideways on it, you compress one leg and put tension on the other. The leg under compression provides some resistance. When you try to collapse a rectangle, you don’t put compression or tension on either leg. They are happy to remain the same length while your project folds up.

When you put weight on a trapezoidal table, the weight tries to push the legs apart at the base. That’s easy to resist with light pieces of steel.

I can tie the legs together toward the bottom with thin steel members. I just need them to stand up to a good hard pull. I don’t know how hard you have to pull on 1″ angle iron to stretch it. Let’s see. The tensile strength of steel is around 70K psi, and 1″ angle iron has a cross section somewhere near 1 square inch, so let’s be cautious and say a strut takes about 20 tons of tension without stretching. That SHOULD do the trick.

Klein’s bench has splayed legs, but they’re not tied together at the bottom.

If I put angle iron around the base, I can use it to hold a plywood shelf. Klein’s bench has no storage space under it, unless you want to put things on the floor.

I’ll post the latest photo of the kitchen cart. I have a number of completed welds on it, and I also have a lot of tacks. I’m trying to get as much of it built as possible before completing the rest of the welds. The more structure you have before you finish your welds, the more steel you have holding everything in place and resisting warpage.

Depending on how much time I have tomorrow, I should be able to finish the steel frame and maybe even prime it. Then I have to think about shelves and paint.

It’s pretty sweet, being able to weld up projects that look good enough to go indoors. Anyone can weld a muffler on, but making a nice cart or chair takes knowledge and care.

Maybe some day I’ll be able to build something really important. Like a recliner.

“Men”? What are These “Men” You Speak of?

I am back to continue documenting the world’s irreversible decline into insanity.

I just had one of the weirder experiences of the pre-apocalypse era. I visited a forum, and people there were complaining about TV. I don’t know much about TV. All I ever see are Youtube and Amazon Prime. I have no idea what funny commercials have appeared since around 2017, so if you make a reference to one in my presence, expect no reaction.

Someone on the forum said they were remaking The Equalizer. This was a show featuring an old white British guy named Edward something or other. We all know how it worked. Someone got bullied, and Ed stepped in and roasted him with a flamethrower or shot him in the head. The show formed the basis for the Equalizer movies. One forum guy called the new show “sad,” and another said it would run 10 episodes and then disappear, leaving people wondering why it had ever been created.

I saw the forum reference to the new show, and I said this: “I’m going to make a wild guess here. She’s a black lesbian.”

Then I decided to Google. Here is what I found.

In case you can’t see the video, it’s a trailer. The show’s star is Queen Latifah. America’s best-known black lesbian, unless Oprah counts.

Denzel Washington, the star of the Equalizer movies, wasn’t good enough for the Ewokes and Woke-iees. That’s what I call them now that they’re getting Star Wars actors fired. Washington is black. He did a great job, although he ripped off his own Man on Fire character. Sorry; insufficient. Washington is a heterosexual.

Is Latifah straight in the show? I know; who cares? Wikipedia says her character is a single mother, but that doesn’t mean anything in 2021. It doesn’t even mean she’s a woman. She could be a transdudette, raising her child on wokeness’s newest fantasy product: “chest milk.”

Every day, normal people who miss America get a fresh axe handle to the face. Iron Man is a woman. Captain Marvel is a woman. Wolverine is a little girl. The captain of the latest Star Trek ship is a black woman. Even 007 is a black lady, and not the Halle Berry/Naomie Harris kind. If the movie she’s in ever comes out, you will not hope to see her in romantic scenes.

I don’t know if the newest Bond film will ever be released. It was shot a long time ago, and it’s still not here. Daniel Craig looks like Bond’s dad in the film, and he’s no longer 007. Who wants to watch that? The film seems to be a breach birth. It won’t come out no matter how long the studio pushes. Obviously, it has problems so bad, they expect it to be a disaster.

It already is a disaster. It was shot a long time ago, and it was supposed to be released about 15 months ago. The studio blames the delays on coronavirus and the departure of the director. The pandemic didn’t exist when the film was supposed to be released, so the studio’s explanation is untrue. Obviously, they have a steaming pile of unappealing footage, and they’re trying to find a way to save it.

I wonder if it will be the first straight-to-DVD Bond release.

When James Bond dies for real, should it be considered a sign that the current age is ending?

It was bad enough when they offered Idris Elba the role. He’s a great actor, and he would be fantastic playing a secret agent in an action role. But James Bond? The James Bond who has a Scottish father and a Swiss mother? No. The Equalizer can be black. Iron Man can be black. James Bond’s ethnicity is essential to his character. Turning him black will turn any Bond film into a wokeness lecture.

A “woke” James Bond. It’s like Ellen DeGeneres holding a revival.

If Idris Elba was a bad choice for 007, a big, brash girl who is short on looks is even worse.

In 2015, the last Bond movie featured a theme song performed by an effeminate homosexual. We should have known it was an omen. James Bond…the most unrepentant, accomplished, heterosexual cinema Casanova since Errol Flynn, introduced by a song performed by a soft little man who likes being sodomized. I wish I could transport a theater full of 1970 fans into a theater and get their reactions.

It’s funny how leftists make money glamorizing characters whose outlooks and behavior they hate. It should drive them crazy. James Bond, John Wayne, Tony Stark, James Kirk, Dirty Harry, Rob Roy, Ron Swanson, Malcolm Reynolds…you would think the left coast types who created these characters, and who must, somewhere deep inside themselves, admire them, handle the cognitive dissonance.

No one wants to watch a big, manly lesbian punch bad guys. Men want someone they want to be like, and women want someone they can dream about. That ain’t Queen Latifah.

Hollywood’s problem is that no one has to go see its movies. You can force employees to endure degrading wokeness training and rules, but if I decide I don’t want to pay to see a woman play the Hulk, there is diddly squat you can do about it. As crazy as the public is, it still wants strong male characters who save attractive female characters. It doesn’t want to see Nancy Pelosi save Richard Simmons, and it never will, because traditional sex roles are hard-wired into human beings.

Will Hollywood continue pushing its warped philosophy until it goes broke, or will it respect its long tradition of hypocrisy, trading principle for profit?

I think the Bond franchise is dead. Craig looks awful, so he can’t do any more films. The latest film appears to be unreleasable. Craig was so good in the past, the studio probably won’t be able to find a viable replacement, even if they reluctantly accept the fact that they need a white man. Maybe they’ll drop this flop and then flounder on for a few releases, trying unsuccessfully to repeat Casino Royale, but I think that will be about it.

It’s natural. They quit making Thin Man and Charlie Chan films, didn’t they?

Hollywood has other problems. If this age continues, it may be a decade before anyone can put 500 people in a theater. Piracy keeps getting better and better, and there is no way to stop it. Also, people are tired. We have seen so much entertainment, there are no new stories to tell us. Certainly not in Hollywood, where creativity goes to have its heart broken.

Here’s a big problem for actors: they are obsolescent. CGI gets better and better all the time, and we will eventually end up with movies which appear realistic yet contain no footage of human beings. The studios will want it because computers aren’t divas. They don’t walk off sets. They don’t overdose or pass out during shoots. They’re much cheaper than actors. They don’t age. They don’t refuse to do nude scenes. We could have 50 more Bond films featuring a young Daniel Craig. For that matter, we could have more John Wayne films. More Clint Eastwood. More Sophia Loren. More Natalie Wood. Alan Ladd was 5’6″ in 1950. In 2030, he can be 6’4″. I would say Christopher Reeve could fly again, but he wasn’t a great actor, so he wouldn’t be resurrected.

It may take 20 years, but sooner or later, there will be no point in hiring actors except for voice work. Even that will eventually be done by computers. Studios will simply pay to use likenesses of dead people. At some point, Hollywood will start creating wildly popular actors from scratch, and the studios will own them. Imagine how jealous Siri and Alexa will be.

We’ve already seen old and dead actors play new scenes as their youthful selves. It wasn’t done well, but it will be done better. The uncanny valley is wide but not infinitely so.

Kirk and Spock, together again. Think of it. Although judging by the way things have gone so far, William Shatner will probably be around for another century. Strap a girdle on him and give him a dark wig, and he’s ready to go.

It seems like nothing is impossible for humanity, given enough time. Machines should eventually become so powerful there is no need for us to do much of anything. It reminds me of what God said before he confused our languages in Babylon:

And the LORD said, Behold, the people is one, and they have all one language; and this they begin to do: and now nothing will be restrained from them, which they have imagined to do.

I believe we will eventually become gods, if we are permitted to live and work. What’s happening with technology is the beginnings of it. I think God puts rebellious creatures in hell not just to punish them, but to keep them in agony so they are unable to concentrate and grow powerful. God’s children are permitted to live forever in peace and pleasure because they pose no threat to the order of the universe.

I’ve often thought the destructive schism between Apple and PC proponents was God’s way of slowing us down for a few years. It was very similar to the Babel story.

It makes sense that God reduced our maximal lifespans from 1000 years to around 100. Think what certain men could do if they lived for centuries.

I don’t enjoy the daily reminders of America’s mass psychosis, but I’m grateful for them, because they help me defeat the gaslighting. Voices around me say, “We’ve had problems before. America will always be here. God defends America. People will swing back the other way.” Those are voices of denial. We have never lived in a time like this. The very nature of our species is changing, too fast for any one of us to keep up or comprehend.

Sometimes Evolution Goes Backward

My goddaughter had a birthday yesterday, so she and her family came to visit. Five kids, or, more accurately, four and one new adult. This gave me a good excuse to keep working with the fancy new ice cream machine. I made four flavors.

I have totally mastered cherry vanilla and butter pecan, and I have great confidence that my next batches of peach and Heath bar crunch will be perfect. It’s time to ask myself what other flavors I need to make before I stop building my ice cream armament. I don’t need a lot of flavors to be happy. As it is, I will never need to buy ice cream again unless I want a novelty like a Nutty Buddy or ice cream sandwich.

I used a bag of crushed Heath bars from the grocery store. This was a mistake. They’re worthless. They’re not just broken. They’re ground. The biggest pieces are like peas. If I do it again, I’ll buy bars and break them.

Based on Internet research saying most people prefer artificial vanilla to the real thing, I tried fake vanilla in one of my flavors. It was not terrible, but it wasn’t that good, either. Expensive vanilla is much, much better.

Here’s what I concluded: most people don’t know what tastes good. I knew that already, because Budweiser is the most popular beer in the country. The guy who is trying to replace Christopher Kimball at America’s Test Kitchen tried fake vanilla in a blind test, and he preferred it. That should have told me all I needed to know. Kimball was the spine that held the organization up. The new guy strikes me as a cooking school wonder who knows everything about food while lacking the ability to create or recognize success. Many of the bad meals you’ve had at restaurants were prepared by culinary school graduates, so it should never surprise anyone when a person with scary cooking credentials can’t cut it.

People worship James Beard, but his recipes aren’t good. The Joy of Cooking should be called The Joy of Indigestion. It’s the way of the world.

One of my guests suggested I try my hand at peppermint. That should be simple. Vanilla ice cream without the vanilla. Add crushed peppermint candy and mint extract.

I can’t eat chocolate without regretting it because of the caffeine and theobromine, but it is conceivable that I might eat it anyway from time to time in the future. I have an urge to try to duplicate Ben & Jerry’s Everything but the Kitchen Sink. It’s chocolate and vanilla ice cream with peanut butter cups and bits of toffee bars mixed in. An Internet search tells me it also contains white chocolate chunks and fudge-covered almonds. I don’t recall running into those items, but then when I eat ice cream, I don’t study it and take notes.

Making a mixed ice cream would be laborious. I would have to make two batches in chocolate and vanilla and combine them. Not sure I want to go through that for a product I don’t plan to eat.

The machine needs a rolling cart, so I blew $88 on steel. I bought 1″ square tubing with 1/8″ walls. I thought thick walls would make welding less risky. Welders can blow through tubing easily. When I saw the price and lifted the steel, I felt I should have gone with thinner tubing. I’m no engineer, so I made a mistake. It’s not a problem, though. I’ll just have a really strong cart I won’t want to lift.

The plan is to put three wooden shelves in it, and I’m going to use the casters that were left over when I put my smoker on a factory-made cart (which I should have built myself).

In related news, I keep wanting to make new workbenches. My old bench of all trades is extremely sturdy, but I built it before I knew anything. It has no wheels, it’s less than ideal for woodworking, and it should probably weigh 100 pounds less.

I finally bought real blades for my Powermatic 66 the other day, and it got me thinking about a woodworking bench. I started thinking about designs. Fresh from the success of building my steel and wood shooting bench I thought I should go against convention and make a woodworking bench with a welded base.

Woodworkers tend to be true believers, and that means they make everything out of wood. They are hostile to certain new ideas, and they really like bench designs that are hundreds of years old. One was created by a famous Frenchman named Roubo. Another one was designed by an Englishman named Nicholson. Actually, these guys may have simply passed on designs that were already traditional. I don’t know.

These benches are very heavy for two reasons, neither of which has anything to do with function. First, wood has a poor strength-to-weight ratio compared to metal, so it takes a lot to do the same job, and second, the people who designed them knew nothing about designing rigid structures.

A typical woodworking bench will have a solid top at least three inches thick. This gives you a nice, stiff surface to work on, and it allows you to make deep holes that will work with bench dogs and holdfasts.

A holdfast is a steel rod with a hook on one end. The hook has a flattened end. You put the other end of the holdfast in a hole and slide it down until the flat part rests on your project. Then you whack the holdfast and drive it into the hole until it wedges in there. It’s a great invention. Really holds things in place, and it’s quick to use. Unfortunately, it doesn’t work well if your bench is thin.

A bench dog is a cylinder of wood that fits in the same holes holdfasts use. You can pull a bench dog up and rest a piece of wood against it while you work it. The dog will keep it from moving away from you. Again, you need deep holes.

At some point during the last millennium, engineers discovered the torsion box. This is a fancy term for a hollow box with supporting members inside it. You build a lattice of crossmembers and then enclose it in two sheets of material like plywood. What you get is a box which is very strong for its weight, and it’s easy to make it flat by sizing the internal members accurately. Many wooden doors are torsion boxes. Nobody wants a door that weighs 200 pounds.

A guy named Paulk designed a bench top which is a torsion box. It’s pretty neat. The top and bottom are several inches apart, and he put holes in the sides of the box so he could reach in and put tools inside it. That feature alone makes the design brilliant. When I first started thinking about building a new bench, I thought I would glue two-by-fours together side by side and make a thick top. Now I realize that was stupid. I want a torsion box.

Problem: how do you put deep holes in a torsion box? The top and bottom may be an inch thick, but there is air between them. I would want holes with wood around them all the way down.

I thought about it last night. Here’s what you do: you add internal members with holes drilled through them. You only need a couple of rows of holes, so you can add two extra members just for drilling them. The holes would weaken the members, so drilling through members that need to be solid would be bad, but adding extra members wouldn’t hurt anything. In fact, you wouldn’t need members running all the way across the bench. You could use cubes of wood.

Problem solved.

What about making holes in the sides of the bench for access to the storage space? Making holes like that in wood is a pain. Why not use steel?

Make yourself a steel frame from tubing. Put plywood on the top and bottom, screwed in for easy replacement. Instead of a few little holes for access, you could have three sides of the bench wide open. One end would have to be covered by an end vise, and part of one side would be blocked by a vise on the front, but other than that. you would have tons of access for storage and cleaning.

Put the box together. Weld up a rolling base. Attach the base to the wood of the box, not the welded base. Install vises. Done.

Any woodworker who is reading this must be screeching by now.

Would the bench top be too flexible to make a good surface for pounding? First of all, why would you be pounding? Woodworking doesn’t require that. Second, many people already use benches with relatively thin tops, and they are doing fine.

I saw a neat bench on Adam Savage’s Youtube channel. A guy named Andrew Klein gave it to him. Klein works for Magswitch, and he also has a side business.

I was awestruck by the bench. It has a base with four legs made from what looks like 5″ steel tubing with 1/2″ walls. The top is two slabs of hardwood that appear to be 4″ thick. It has two geared twin-screw vises Klein makes and sells. The dogs have steel shafts, and the holes contain magnets so the dogs stay up when you raise them.

The more I looked at the bench, though, the more I thought I saw bad engineering.

I don’t know what the bench weighs. Maybe 500 pounds? Savage was happy about that, but overbuilding is one of the best-known hallmarks of bad engineering. I know; I’ve done it. Weight means increased material, production, and shipping costs. It means increased difficulty in handling finished products. It means waste. It’s a clumsy way of handling problems you can’t address properly because you’re not a good engineer.

If you ever read a welding textbook, you’ll learn that one of the main things that drive the study of weldments is a desire to reduce weight. People who don’t know anything about engineering love to talk about how “beefy” their tools are. It’s like bragging that your car has solid tires made of steel. It’s a demonstration of ignorance. I’m no engineer, but even I know these things. You don’t have to be a Georgia Tech grad to get this far.

The bench has no wheels. That’s insane. I say that as the guilty creator of a bench with no wheels. Why would you make an extremely heavy tool you can’t move without a forklift? Smart shop owners put everything they can on wheels. The more you can move things around, the smaller and less expensive your shop can be without sacrificing comfort or much convenience.

What about the magnetic dogs? At first, I thought they were cool. Then I thought about Paul Sellers. He’s a British woodworker who is very big on Youtube. He’s a real expert. His dogs are bits of scrap wood with springs he makes from coat hangers. I have some I made myself. They work great, so why drive yourself nuts with rare earth magnets?

Now, the vises. They are beautiful, and the cost is very reasonable. They are probably a little better than competing vises from companies like Veritas. Veritas uses bicycle chains to connect and synchronize the screws on its vises, while Klein uses gears, and gears are sturdier and don’t need adjustment. Klein’s vises have transmissions so you can shift into high gear and move them fast.

I thought the vises were neat. Then I asked myself: “How are they significantly better than what I have right now?”

I made a Moxon vise for my bench. It’s a long block of maple with two holes in it. Two long Acme screws run through it, and there are handwheels to turn the screws. I can put longer and wider objects in it than will fit in most factory vises. I can put things in it that reach down to the floor; nothing gets in the way. I can fasten it on objects that are tapered because the screws aren’t synchronized. It doesn’t have a speed mode, the way the Klein vises do, but I have never felt I needed that. If I really want that feature, I can create it using half-nuts.

The Veritas vise is also very good, and unlike Klein’s boutique vise, it’s available. I don’t have to wait for a guy to make it in his basement.

The bench top…beautiful. Tombstone-thick maple with a glossy finish. But what is the purpose of all that weight? Answer: to make Adam Savage feel good. If loving your tool is your goal, buy what you like, but what if you just want to make things?

Savage has already put a big sheet of leather on the bench to protect it, and that shows how shortsighted the design is. A bench is like a pair of boots or gloves. You’re not supposed to protect it. You’re supposed to protect the work. A bench shouldn’t be sanded with 400 grit and finished with 10 coats of polyurethane. It should be bare wood. Imagine fussing with a giant sheet of cowhide every time you use a workbench. Ridiculous.

I made a shooting bench from 2″ steel tubing, a few screws, and some pressure-treated two-by-sixes. You could literally rest a car on it. If it weren’t for the two pneumatic tires on one end, you could never wiggle it at all by using tools on it. It’s way overbuilt. It probably weighs 150 pounds now that the wood is dry. I can lift one end of it and roll it 50 yards by myself. I do it all the time. I should have made it even lighter.

If I made a woodworking bench from the same tubing, it would be just as sturdy. Each leg might weigh 7 pounds. What do the legs on Savage’s bench weigh? Maybe 10 times that? For no reason.

I can use 2″ tubing for the base of my bench. I can put a caster on each corner. I can add feet that lower with screws when the bench is where I want it, so it won’t move when I push on a hand plane. It will feel like the Rock of Gibraltar, I’ll be able to move it unaided, I’ll have a ton of handy storage, and when the top gets beaten up, it will take me half an hour to put a new one on.

I can throw two Veritas vises on it, or I can buy two Moxon parts kits (because I am tired of making the parts). No need to wait for vises with transmissions. Done. Bang. Next problem, please.

I looked into leg vises. Long story short: no. Twin-screw vises are better.

Isn’t it bad to have screws in the top of a woodworking bench? No. Why would it be bad? Don’t plane the screws. Don’t chisel them. Countersink them a little to keep them out of your way. No problem.

I can make one bench for wood and another one for general use. I can put my old bench on the burn pile, using the tractor. If I move, my new benches will roll onto a truck.

I really don’t see the point in reverting to Fred Flintstone design policies. It seems to me that a half-ton woodworking bench is like a big sign saying, “I reject every intelligent thing man has learned since 500 A.D.”

I kind of wonder if I need a wood bench at all. Why not use a welding table? I have thought about buying a real fixturing table made from 1/4″ or 3/8″ plate. It’s a steel torsion box. They’re very popular. Why couldn’t I do woodworking on it? Mounting vises would be interesting, to say the least, but there is no reason why you can’t make wooden projects on a steel table.

Something to think about.

Speaking of Fred Flintstone, I saw a video about Nick Offerman. He’s the actor who played Ron Swanson on TV. Swanson is a hilarious caricature of an old-fashioned libertarian, whereas Offerman is your standard Hollywood liberal with full-blown Trump Derangement Syndrome. After watching Swanson, Offerman is a big disappointment. He’s a gun control nut.

I’ll post a video of Ron Swanson just for fun.

Anyway, Offerman is a woodworker. He has a beautiful shop. You can see it in videos. When you look at his setup, you wonder what kind of furniture he makes. It must be cleverly designed and painstakingly crafted.

Well, not so much. He makes Flintstone furniture. I’ll post a photo.

You may think it looks nice. Well, sure. God designed it. Nick Offerman voted absent.

This is a style of furniture which is very popular now. You take thick slabs that could be used to make a lot of quality furniture, and instead of coming up with a real design, you run them through a jointer, fasten them together crudely, slap some Danish oil on them, and call it art. Funny thing: it’s the opposite of art. “Art” means something which has been transformed by the mind of man.

The crude furniture people make now reminds me of the increasing use of the word “rustic” in cooking. You’ve seen it. A “rustic” pizza is a pizza that looks like a kitchen accident because it was made by an unskilled person. “Rustic” means “crudely made due to lack of skill.” Offerman’s table is definitely rustic, although it may be a superficial rusticity. He can probably do a lot better. I hope he can.

I have zero skills, yet given a big enough planer, I could make this table in an afternoon. In gluing extremely thick pieces of wood together, I would waste many pounds of wood which could have been turned into genuine pieces of craftsmanship.

If there is anything good about this style, it’s that it preserves thick slabs of valuable wood until the furniture can be demolished and the wood used in better projects.

Here’s a modern chair made by a guy named Maloof. It’s from the Smithsonian’s collection. Not really my thing, but it’s graceful, skillfully crafted, and pleasing to the eye. Compare it to Fred and Barney’s table, above.

The chair serves to remind us of the difference between art and copping out.

Offerman, like Klein and Savage, has fallen prey to the beefy bug. Instead of a graceful table with a design that required human input, he created a crude device useful mainly for rupturing disks. If God thought like these guys, birds would be unable to fly. A chicken would weigh 40 pounds. All fish would be bottom dwellers. The weight of their bones would glue them to the seabed.

Birds have air inside their bones to reduce weight, but many birds are extremely strong. The other day I saw a video of a cockatoo which probably weighed two pounds, lifting a pumpkin and throwing it off a kitchen counter. That’s not rustic. That’s engineering.

What purpose did Offerman serve here? He didn’t design anything. He found something that occurred under the random influences of nature and presented it nearly as-is. He’s not a maker. He’s a finder.

Offerman’s type of furniture is known as “live edge.” I don’t know why they call it that. The wood is dead. Maybe they didn’t want to call it “rustic edge.”

The idea is that the outermost part of the wood isn’t cut away. You would think it makes every piece of furniture unique, but in reality, it makes them all look the same. Go to Google Images and look up “live edge furniture.” It’s like a giant Offerman exhibit, but he didn’t make any of the pieces.

Live edge woodworkers are fungible. One’s work is just like another’s. There is no need for any particular live edge woodworker to exist. Any other member of the crew can step in and finish his work exactly as he would have.

I could swear I hear Ayn Rand shouting at me.

Mr. Maloof is a real woodworker. Nick Offerman is just a guy who stacks slabs.

Nick Offerman is funny, but he’s not on my list of most-admired people. His Trump issues are disturbing, and he nearly ruined Lagavulin whisky for me. It has been my favorite whisky for many years, because it’s the best whisky there is. Offerman’s Swanson character came alone and started drinking it, and now I feel like I should hide my bottle. Remember how you wanted to hide your cowboy boots after Urban Cowboy came out? Same thing. My guess is that Offerman didn’t know what Lagavulin was until he read about it in a script.

I don’t know if I’ll make a new bench or not, but at least I was saved from the beefy bug. An afternoon of Googling did that for me.

It’s time to go blast some squirrels. They smoke up pretty good. It’s fun being a lot more like Ron Swanson than Nick Offerman will ever be.

MORE

Ready for an whale-choking dose of irony? I just learned that the TV character Ron Swanson designed the Maloof chair pictured above. The exact same chair.

I was looking at clips of Ron Swanson in action, and I came across one in which a lady tried to license a chair design Swanson had created. When they showed the chair, I was stunned. I’ll post a photo.

What are the odds?

Does Maloof know a fictional person is taking credit for his talent?

I don’t watch the show, so there is now way I could have seen Ron with the chair in the past. I found the Maloof chair by Googling “chair” along with “Smithsonian,” figuring the Smithsonian probably had a collection of historic furniture.

If ever you needed evidence that Nick Offerman is inferior to his broadcast persona, look no further.

I checked Offerman’s website and found that not all of his furniture is Flintstone tribute material, so it appears that if he ever got his head straight he could conceivably improve his work and successfully ascend the Swanson Pyramid of Greatness.

Actress Loses Career for Criticizing Third Reich’s Methods

I am not sure why I continue to blog. Human beings have become immune to the truth, and I keep saying it’s pointless to reason with them, so why come here and discuss America’s unstoppable, permanent slide into insanity?

Of course, not all of my posts are about pre-apocalyptic mass delusion. Often, I write about other things.

I think I write about the end of reason because it’s natural to want to say something when you witness a catastrophe, and also because a part of me that may be somewhat childish wants people to know I wasn’t fooled.

Gina Carano. Do you know who she is? I just found out. She’s an actress who has made a number of appearances on a Star Wars show. I have no interest in Star Wars because a) it promotes occultism, b) it posits an absurd universe in which Yahweh is not the supreme being, c) it’s written on a level suited for 12-year-olds (not bright ones), and d) it’s bad, internally inconsistent art steered by incompetent people who have never had a plan.

Nerds love to try to figure out what George Lucas was planning when he did this or that. He never planned anything. He never had a master plan for a series of movies that flowed from one another and didn’t contradict each other. He made one movie, and when it did well, he sat down and tried to think up a new one. He repeated the process several times, and he did a very poor job. Then Disney took over because it was obvious that he couldn’t handle things, and they aren’t doing any better.

In addition to all that, how can you take a sci-fi franchise seriously when it features ships that travel faster than light and firearms that shoot projectiles that top out at around 25 miles per hour?

It’s not my thing, but Ms. Carano made a living from it for a while. Then she got deleted by the cancel kids. Disney fired her and, in the process, libeled her.

She has offended in several ways.

She has been critical of mask policies. For this reason, fans rose up and demanded she be fired and erased from the public consciousness. Fired! Can you imagine? Pretend it’s 1955, polio is a big problem in America, and Lucille Ball has just said she thinks the vaccine doesn’t work. What would happen to her? Right. Nothing. Sane people don’t fire other people for amateur medical opinions.

She also put “boop/bop/beep” on her Twitter profile, after fans demanded she list her “pronouns.” She opined that Jeffrey Epstein didn’t kill himself, indicating her belief in a popular conspiracy theory.

Humor used to be legal in America. Remember? As for conspiracy theories, Kanye West accused a sitting president of murdering hundreds of people in New Orleans, and nothing happened to him. Of course, that was before he bought his first red hat.

She wrote a tweet criticizing voter fraud. She did not claim the election was illegitimate. Here’s what she said:

We need to clean up the election process so we are not left feeling the way we do today.
Put laws in place that protect us against voter fraud.
Investigate every state.
Film the counting.
Flush out the fake votes.
Require ID.
Make Voter Fraud end in 2020.
Fix the system.

There is nothing offensive about that. It’s common sense. Well, I just contradicted myself. What, in 2021, is more offensive than common sense? The name “Jesus,” I guess.

Regarding leftist tyranny, she wrote this:

“Jews were beaten in the streets, not by Nazi soldiers but by their neighbors…. even by children. Because history is edited, most people today don’t realize that to get to the point where Nazi soldiers could easily round up thousands of Jews, the government first made their own neighbors hate them simply for being Jews. How is that any different from hating someone for their political views?”

That was actually true. It’s common knowledge. The Germans and Austrians (and many citizens of occupied countries) hated the Jews as much as the Nazi leadership did. Anne Frank’s family was supposedly sold out by a Dutchman for $41. I say “supposedly” because I don’t know if the figure is accurate. He definitely sold them, resulting in their deaths, which followed great suffering.

Here is Lucasfilm’s incredible comment:

“Gina Carano is not currently employed by Lucasfilm and there are no plans for her to be in the future. Nevertheless, her social media posts denigrating people based on their culture and religious identities are abhorrent and unacceptable.

See if you can find anything in what she wrote that denigrates people based on their culture and religious identities. Obviously, there is no such material. In reality, she took up for Jews and other people who are abused because of their culture and religious identities.

Down is up, and left is right. Criticizing anti-Semitism is anti-Semitic. Welcome to the devil’s 2021 carnival funhouse, where the mirrors are moved every day.

Why am I writing this? I must be a hypocrite. I say it does no good to expose lies, but here I am, exposing them as though it mattered.

Satan and his children–and the cancel kids ARE his childen–are gaslighters. When someone gaslights you, there is a strong urge to contradict them publicly and to reach out to find support from other people that care about the truth. Maybe that’s why I’m here.

My dad and my sister were very abusive when I was growing up, and the gaslighting never stopped. I learned that exposing it was not gossip or revenge. It was a necessary cleansing, like washing a wound before it can get infected. We are being abused by the cancel kids, so it’s hard to resist exposing it. It will never end during this age, but it still feels good to come here and debunk Antichristian propaganda while my blog is still permitted to exist.

Of course, my blog has already been canceled. The Department of Defense classified it as a hate site, and I’m told it’s also unavailable in China. It’s nice when our president, the press, the DoD, and our communist enemies are all in the same bed. I can still reach many people, but around a fifth of the world’s population has already been protected from my dangerous ideas.

The Bible makes it clear that when Jesus returns, he will do some canceling of his own. He will cancel everyone who makes and loves a lie. That’s most of America. Until then, we will just have to do what we can to keep our heads about the rising tide of rhetorical sewage that gushes from willfully deranged leftists.

In heaven at the marriage of Christ, and on earth during the Messianic Age, we won’t have to brace ourselves every time we prepare to brave exposure to mainstream culture. You’ll never think, “I hope this won’t be too bad,” before clicking a link to a major news site. You’ll never feel like you’re wearing a muzzle because the people around you are dangerous lunatics just waiting to turn you in. The Antichrist’s kids will be in agony in hell or suffering greatly on earth, and you won’t have to block or unfriend them, because there will be no way for them to communicate with you or even show they exist.

It will be so wonderful to be free of them, I wonder if we’ll even notice the grief that accompanies the spectacle of observing their doom. Maybe it will take a while to stop focusing on the cessation of our own suffering.

I’m so glad I’m not dependent on public approval for my survival. I know people who are muzzled every day at work. It’s normal now. They can’t speak the truth, and they’re being forced to repeat the inanities coming from the dominant left. I just read that many midwives are forbidden to say “breastfeeding” now. They have to say “chestfeeding,” in order to avoid hurting the feelings of sick individuals who, I guess, don’t like being reminded they’re not women. Breast milk is now “chest milk.” It sounds disgusting. Like something that oozes out of a professional wrestler when his regimen of synthetic hormones is out of whack.

How do you talk like that without losing your mind? How many times a day can you repeat a repugnant lie, on pain of losing your job and falling into poverty, without turning to gin?

If Jesus waits long enough, they’ll come for me just like they’re coming for people who are handier due to their ties to the Antichrist’s economic combine. Right now, though, I’m free to say homosexuality is abominable, transsexuals don’t exist, and masks don’t work, without wondering if I’ll be living behind a dumpster next month.

They’re going to be really mad when they finally get around to me. I guarantee you that. Look at all the things I’ve written. And there is no forgiveness. In the kingdom of God, it’s possible for a serial rapist or a terrorist who has killed hundreds of people to be redeemed. In Satan’s kingdom, even small transgressions disqualify you permanently from participation in society. I don’t think Gina Carano will ever come back, and it would be laughable for me to ask to be spared.

Sleepy Joe Considering Putting our Rights to Sleep

My friend Mike is planning to visit, and he lives in another state. Yesterday, he called and told me Biden’s underlings are talking about making it illegal to travel to and from Florida.

The first thing I wondered was whether a president had the power to do that.

Trump limited travel between NATIONS. That’s fine. The Constitution gives presidents the power to conduct foreign relations. Telling me I can’t drive to Atlanta is another matter. That’s a restriction of the Fifth Amendment’s guarantee of liberty and the First Amendment’s implied right to freedom of association. Where does the Constitution say a dementia patient who leads the executive branch can arbitrarily ignore these two fundamental rights?

The Fifth Amendment says the feds can’t deprive us of liberty without due process of law. What does “due process” mean when a man who will soon be in diapers decides to imprison 21 million people? Does it mean Biden has to go to the Supreme Court and file some sort of lawsuit? Does it mean he has to go to Congress? Search me (Fourth Amendment).

The Fourteenth Amendment provides the same guarantees as the Fifth, except it applies to states. That didn’t help people in Michigan. Their governor went all Nurse Ratched on them, and she got her way.

Can Biden pull it off by having his teleprompter help him declare a national emergency? Wouldn’t such a declaration be subject to judiciary review?

I don’t know how it works. My guess is that no one does. It sounds like one of those Constitutional gaps that breed litigation and bad decisions made by biased activist (i.e. “left-wing”) courts. Thank God we haven’t lost the Supreme Court yet.

It could be worse. The Fifth and Fourteenth Amendments could start out with, “A well regulated militia being necessary to the security of a free state.”

Our rights are extremely fragile now. I would say they’re actually gone. All that’s left is a facade. Our rights are like a painted structure eaten away from inside by termites. The surface looks fine, but don’t lean on it.

I told Mike what I always tell myself. You can’t let provocateurs and revolutionaries, who are very powerful on both sides of the aisle, engage your emotions. All this political nonsense is carnal and not really the business of people who are Spirit-led. It’s intended to ruin our faith, turn us into creatures of emotion, waste our time, and drive us to sin.

America is washed up, period. It’s done. The details and means don’t matter much, and it’s a very bad idea to get caught up in carnal resistance and agitation.

If you know any addicts, you know what I’m talking about. I mean real addicts who can’t be helped, not old ladies who took a couple of weeks to kick painkillers after knee replacement surgery. When someone close to you is an addict, you can’t spend your life chasing them around, wiping their rear end for them over and over. You have to cut them loose and let them die. Real addicts end up in three places: prison, institutions, and the grave. That information doesn’t come from me. It comes from medical doctrine. You’re not in charge of the universe, and you can’t change it. What you can do is withdraw and spend your time with people who can be helped. People who won’t drain your savings, steal your heirlooms, ruin your home, and make your life an unending taste of hell.

Maybe Biden will be able to turn Florida into a prison. Okay. He can’t come between me and God, though. He can’t defeat me. He can’t stop God’s blessings from pouring through me every minute of my life. He can’t prevent me from fulfilling my purpose, any more than he can speak unaided for a solid minute without getting lost.

It amazes me that leftists elected a man as unintelligent as Biden. I can’t recall any other stupid presidents. Biden graduated low in his class at a very bad law school, but look at his predecessors. Obama managed to get through one and a half Ivy League schools. Bush broke 1200 on the SAT. Clinton made it through law school at Yale. Bush I was Phi Beta Kappa at Yale. Reagan’s high intelligence is self-evident. Carter was inept, but he was an Annapolis graduate and nuclear engineer. Ford graduated high in his class at Yale Law. Nixon was sharp as a tack. LBJ fell apart in office, but he was very shrewd. Kennedy was smart, although not nearly as smart as he led people to believe. Biden is the only true dunce that has occupied the Oval Office in my lifetime.

People keep taking up for Biden as though he were Albert Einstein and Benjamin Cardozo, combined. Look what Wikipedia says about his brief, failed legal career: “Corporate law, however, did not appeal to him, and criminal law did not pay well.” Excuse me. Corporate law is pleasant and even somewhat intellectually stimulating, and the pay is excellent. Biden would have stuck it out had he been able to function. Criminal law is simple, and it pays very, very well if you win cases. Biden simply was not bright enough to make it, and you don’t have to be very smart to make money as a lawyer. That’s especially true in criminal law, which is very easy.

As a general rule, people in the bottoms of law school classes don’t have what it takes to do well in the profession. There are many exceptions, but Joe Biden is not one of them. He was a bad student in high school, and he also failed to distinguish himself at his state’s mediocre university, where he majored in simple fields.

Biden isn’t smart, and neither is his remaining son. It’s obvious from his son’s writings. Intelligence is mostly inherited. Biden’s success has been propelled by aggression and dishonesty, and he also has a monumental and helpful case of Dunning-Kruger Syndrome. He has self-confidence in inverse proportion to his ability.

Biden’s unlikely and ludicrous ascendancy is evidence of God’s withdrawal of favor. The Bible shows that a nation that turns away from God will be ruled by idiots and scoundrels, and that aliens will rise up and dominate the inhabitants.

A man who served as Vice President for 8 years, and who was denied the traditional role of successor due to his mental limitations, is now the left’s messiah. Look how far America has slipped.

Truth be told, he is not the first warning sign. Obama was an unaccomplished political zero put in place by affirmative action and Bush Derangement Syndrome. He had to get into Columbia via transfer, which is how poor prospects get in. The Ivy League’s heavy-handed affirmative action couldn’t save him on the first try, and that’s saying something. His SAT score (which he will not reveal) must have been extremely low in order for Columbia to reject him. Harvard Law scooped him up, and he headed the law review, but he never wrote an article. Why? Because he couldn’t. The position was a sop based on his skin color. The sole purpose of law review membership is to produce articles. Obama is relatively bright, but he has never said or done anything remotely clever. Everything is handed to him.

As much as I love Trump, I have to admit he isn’t a class act. He’s crass. He is often childish. His sexual and marital history is heavily blemished. He did a wonderful job, but he’s no genetic aristocrat. Could such a person have survived the first primary in 1980? I often wonder if God gave us Trump because he didn’t want to subject a nice person to the cruelty and abuse Trump went through.

The people who rule America are going to look worse and worse as time passes. Californians like to say everything California gets comes to the rest of the nation 5 years later. That’s part of the fatuous California ego. It will surely happen with regard to leadership. California, Washington, and Oregon show that there is no limit to the stupidity of the things a majority of an electorate can believe and support.

The waters of evil are rising, they’re never going to stop rising, and the areas of high ground are getting smaller and farther apart. There is no point in poring over the news every day to try to figure out what we should do. There is nothing we can do. We had our chance. The best thing now is to get close to God and see if you can get inside the bubble of his protection.

America is being destroyed, and the option of saving it is gone. Now there are only two options left: sinking with the ship, or getting in a lifeboat.

I read something else that interested me, while I was looking into the possibility that I might end up living in a prison state. I saw that medical people think coronavirus variants that don’t respond to our current vaccines will develop.

How about THAT?

I’ve been sitting here trying to get God’s guidance about taking the existing vaccine, but it may well be that there would be no point, even if it worked and had no adverse effects. Coronavirus may turn out to be a lot like the common cold. It may dance around our efforts to eradicate it for the remainder of the age. Funny how the experts and bigwigs aren’t talking about this.

What if we have to have masks, lockdowns, attrition, and social distancing FOREVER?

It gets worse. What if coronavirus becomes substantially more deadly? Usually, diseases become less lethal, but that’s not always true, and coronavirus is crazy.

There are certain types of beneficial plants that develop blights that never kill them off entirely, yet which keep them sickly and few in number. It also happens to animals. That could be our future until Jesus comes. We could end up like the chestnut trees.

One of the big problems with coronavirus is that you can’t look at it today and plan future strategies based on its current form. No one can say it won’t be more infectious or more deadly in the future. It keeps mutating. Look how long it took us to create vaccines for the common strains we have right now. If nastier types develop, should we expect similar one-year lags?

Biden’s Florida ruminations are based on the belief that Florida has a heavier load of more-destructive viruses. Here’s the obvious question: how will locking up Florida prevent other mutations from happening right here in America? If it can happen in Africa and Europe, it can happen in the single biggest coronavirus reservoir on Earth.

Current vaccines aren’t completely effective against the prevalent strains, new strains are already out there, more new strains will certainly develop this year and every year after that, and it takes a year to create a new vaccine.

It sure looks like we are hearing the entrance music of the pale horseman of the apocalypse.

As for the red horseman, murder, something interesting is happening. If you want .22 or 9mm ammunition, you have a problem. It’s hard to find, unless you want to pay several times what it’s worth. I can’t even find obscure calibers like .204 Ruger. Guess what is available? AR-15 and AK-47 ammo. Think about that. You can get all the .223 and 7.62 you want, and prices aren’t all that bad. What are these rounds used for? Combat. Life is tough if you want to shoot harmlessly in matches or in the forest, but if you want to amass 10,000 rounds of calibers developed for the purpose of filling high-capacity combat weapons, all you have to do is point and click. For $2000, you can have enough ammo to kill and wound other Americans for months of active fighting.

We’re being set up for a shooting civil war. Can that really be a coincidence?

Everything we hold onto is shaking, and the shaking gets worse all the time. Sooner or later, we will reach a crescendo.

I hope one of two things happens: either things quiet back down and revival and evangelism are restored, or Jesus comes for us and I can forget about the world’s problems. Sitting here doing nothing is getting old.

I refuse to worry, and I will not let myself be dragged into activism. My earthly nation is finished, but my real nation–the nation of heaven–will never be shaken. God will stay by me and lift me above this mess. I don’t have to scrap and fuss in the carnal mosh pit.

By the way, Project Veritas has been banned by Twitter. You will eventually get the same treatment.

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I hit the woods again today. Things went pretty well. I set up my blind to see whether the squirrels liked it better than the sight of me sitting in my Home Depot folding chair.

I wasn’t all that happy about the weather. It’s miserably hot. It hit 80 degrees here. We’ve had a wonderful winter so far, so it disturbs me whenever the pattern is broken. I was concerned that the blind might be hot because it cuts off the wind.

I set it down in a general area where I have killed squirrels before. I’ve learned some things about choosing a place to lie in wait. You don’t want too much undergrowth in front of you. It hides squirrels on the ground. You don’t want to set up so trees block your view of other trees. You don’t know which tree a squirrel will climb down, and if it’s a tree you can’t see, you can spook the squirrel when you move to get a clear shot. You also want a spot in the shade, for obvious reasons.

I made a tremendous racket when I set the blind up. It’s confusing, and there are a lot of things that flop around and make noise. I was afraid all the squirrels would take off for Jacksonville.

It wasn’t all that long before I started seeing squirrels, though. They are quite stupid. Unfortunately, they didn’t cooperate very well. They stayed too high up, or they sat behind things I couldn’t see through, or they ran back up trees without presenting good shots.

Eventually, I had a somewhat decent shot at maybe 25 yards. I couldn’t see the bottom half of the squirrel, but that wasn’t the half I was shooting at. I did my best to steady the gun, and I fired. The squirrel dropped. I got out of the blind and started walking to him. He jumped up and ran up a nearby tree. I couldn’t find any blood. I think the little jerk was playing possum. He got me to blow my cover royally, which made me fear I wouldn’t see any more rodents.

I sat back down anyway, and before too long, I picked up motion in my peripheral vision to the right. A squirrel was on the ground, rummaging for acorns. It was in an area with considerable junk on the ground, plus swells in the terrain. Sometimes it moved a few feet and disappeared completely.

It kept moving to my right, so I had to keep picking my chair up and turning it. The squirrel didn’t care. The magic of the blind was working.

Finally, it showed most of its body from around 30 yards. It was at 4 o’clock relative to my original position, and I had been watching it for a very long time. I figured this was the best shot I would ever get. I pressed the trigger, and the squirrel disappeared.

I wondered if I was getting another Academy Award performance as I left the blind, but when I got to the area where the squirrel should have been, I saw a motionless furry object on the ground. No breathing. The bullet had traversed the chest cavity. Very clean kill.

I threw the squirrel on the ground in front of the blind, because I had been told squirrels like to investigate their dead buddies. I gave it a good solid trial, but I had no luck. I tossed the squirrel in a Home Depot bag and walked home. I left the blind and chair, figuring it would be helpful to avoid making a huge spectacle the next time I used it.

Cleaning the squirrel went better than before. I stopped trying to do exactly what Youtube videos said to do, and I used common sense. The hide came off reasonably easily, and the squirrel remained in one piece, except for the head, which I severed on purpose.

I now have 4 squirrels in the oven at 250, wrapped in foil, and once I think they’re tender, I plan to grease them, put a rub on them, and give them an hour in the smoker. Maybe doing it this way will keep them from drying out.

I’m getting used to gutting and skinning warm animals that smell. It doesn’t bother me now. That’s good, because you have to get used to it if you want to enjoy it.

Maybe I can manage to bag a turkey during the spring season. I certainly hope so.

It’s unfortunate that I didn’t get into hunting years ago, before the lunatics took over and started treating hunters like criminals. It’s astounding how people can believe lies and choose to wallow in ignorance.

There have been times when the gaslighting has started to get to me. I started to wonder if killing animals was okay. Surely God loves them. The other day I got a revelation, however, so I no longer have even a sliver of guilt.

In case some self-righteous ninny is giving you a hard time about hunting, I’ll tell you my revelation. Ask yourself this: how do wild animals die when hunters DON’T kill them?

Answer: horribly. They die from animal predation, for one thing. Animal predators are not humane. They often kill slowly. Many predators like to play with their wounded prey. They are also known to wound other animals just for the fun of it and then wander off, leaving them in agony. Animals also die from terrible diseases without medical care. Check out what’s happening to the key deer here in Florida to see good examples. Animals die from injuries that are never treated. They die from starvation and thirst, too. Wild animals don’t die of old age, because as soon as age weakens them, something else finishes them off.

In the wild, there is no such thing as a peaceful death in a warm bed surrounded by loved ones. There are no animal hospices. No one tries to mitigate a dying animal’s agony. It goes on and on.

Farm animals and game killed by hunters generally die fast deaths while in the prime of life. Very often, they die instantly. Hunters track wounded prey to put it out of its misery. Hunters think about ethics when they shoot. They avoid shots that are too likely to cause unnecessary suffering.

In reality, hunters don’t cause an overall increase in suffering. They reduce it. Every wild animal dies, but only a small percentage are lucky enough to be taken humanely.

Put that in your bong and smoke it a while.

Here’s a few videos of animals dying in the wild. Don’t watch if you’re sensitive. Ask yourself if you wouldn’t prefer a high-powered round through the heart and lungs.

1. A cheetah being torn apart by lions.

2. A lion being mauled to death by hyenas.

3. Komodo dragons eating a deer alive.

4. Here’s a lynx taking a very long time to kill a squirrel.

5. Here’s a polar bear in the process of dying. National Geographic claimed the bear was dying because of climate change, but they later admitted they had no idea what its problem was. In fact, this is how bears normally die.

So much for the anti-hunting nuts.

Hope I can get better at killing squirrels while the season lasts. It seems like great training for other types of hunting.

Squirrels Yield to Superior Technology and Practice

I took the Marlin 60 out today, found out where it shot at around 15 yards, and headed for squirrelville.

Shortly after I got away from the house, I saw a lady training a horse on a property nearby. I was in the woods, but she was on the side of my land which is closest to houses. I guess they were a little over a hundred yards away. She would definitely see me if I killed a squirrel where I was, and she would have ample opportunity to stick her nose in my business.

I noticed a stupid squirrel on the ground not far ahead. The stupid ones are the majority of my business. I thought about the lady. Was it the same character who called me over to the fence a few years ago and told me shooting upset her horses? I thought maybe I should avoid a confrontation. Then I thought again. I needed to assert my dominance and defend my rights. No pushy neurotic woman with zero understanding of property rights, good manners, or the law was going to make the rules on my land. Sorry, Karen of the Squirrels.

I stalked up to a tree for partial concealment, opened up a monopod, put the squirrel on the crosshairs of my Bugbuster scope, and let him have it right through the upper body. He dropped and twitched briefly. I looked at the lady with the horse. They were continuing with their business. The horse was not interested in my activities, and I guess it wasn’t the crazy lady. Either that, or she was intimidated, as she should have been. No one should feel entitled to disturb a hunt, especially in a state where it’s a second-degree misdemeanor.

I walked over and looked at the squirrel. No movement. A nice clean kill.

I stuck him in a Ziploc and went on my merry way. I saw a few more rodents, but they were either too wary to get close to or impossible to shoot safely.

Skinning went pretty well this time. I tore a squirrel in half two days ago. A real mess. It gets easier with practice. I left most of the offal in the yard. The possums and coons must love me.

I’ve learned that it’s handy to flush things like kidneys and man parts. I cut squirrels up in my mud room, which has a toilet.

Now I have three little buddies in the fridge waiting to be smoked.

I’m not all that excited about eating them, but it’s a good idea to get used to game, given the fact that a hot civil war is on the way. It would probably be smart to learn how to eat ants, worms, roaches, and grass.

I feel like I should do things right at least once. I should set my blind up in a likely place and start hunting early. I don’t want to cut into my morning prayer time, though.

Things are going well. I finally have one scoped .22 that works well, and I’m getting better at hunting itself. I hope I can start coming home with 5 squirrels instead of one or three.

It’s bizarre how hunting can bring out instincts you never used in the suburbs. When I’m walking in the woods and something moves 50 yards away, I freeze instantly, just like cats do when they see birds. If I’m in mid step, that’s where I stop. I stare at whatever moved. Nothing is in motion except my eyes. I don’t think about anything else.

People think hiking and camping make you part of nature. No, sorry. Hiking is fun, but hikers are spectators, and camping just lets you know how it feels to be homeless. If you want to feel like part of nature, start hunting. You literally become part of the game. You become a predator, just as legitimate as a hawk or a fox. Hunting is real. Buying meat at the store is make-believe.

Yesterday I was out by my target stands, and I smelled squirrel. I guess I had gotten something on the bed of my cart when I killed the last two, because there were no squirrels around. It looks like squirrel hunting is turning me into a squirrel dog. I can smell them in the kitchen a day after I put them away and clean everything carefully.

I’m glad I hunt squirrels, because they’re very challenging. Shooting a squirrel at 100 feet is like shooting a deer at 300 yards. It’s actually harder, because squirrels move around more, and rifles for deer have much better optics and triggers than .22’s. Deer, hogs, coons, and coyotes should be a breeze after this.

Marlin Model 60 Surprises

Sometimes China is right.

I have been trying to shoot squirrels with a Savage A22 rifle and a Nikon Prostaff II Rimfire scope. The scope gets great reviews all over the web, and that’s why I bought it. I figured experts and people who had actually used the scope knew better than I did.

I have gotten fed up with the scope. It’s always blurry. The diopter adjustment seems to do nearly nothing. There is no parallax adjustment. You’re stuck at 50 yards. All sorts of liars claim they shoot squirrels in the head with .22 LR at 50 yards, but it’s physically impossible to do it reliably unless you have a fantastic rifle, top-notch ammunition, and a rest that compares to a bench. And the squirrel has to help.

The Nikon has no illumination. Once you’ve used illuminated scopes, you don’t want to go back. It doesn’t have target turrets. It doesn’t come with end caps. The minimum focus distance is significantly longer than the minimum squirrel distance.

I do not like it.

A long time ago, I wasted a lot of money on an expensive air rifle, and I put a UTG Bugbuster scope on it. I thought the scope was kind of a toy. The Chinese make a lot of low-quality optics baited with features. In fact, however, it’s much better than the Nikon.

1. It’s very clear, and the diopter adjustment works.

2. It has an illuminated reticle with a choice of two colors.

3. It has target turrets.

4. It comes with end caps.

5. The parallax is adjustable.

6. It focuses all the way down to living room distances. Not that I’m suggesting anything.

Yesterday, I did something I was putting off. I took the Marlin Model 60 out and zeroed it at 50 yards with the Bugbuster and CCI Mini-mags. I remembered to bring my rear bag, but I forgot my front rest. I put a few rounds in one bullseye, but they were spaced out pretty badly because I didn’t have a good rest. I adjusted the turrets and mashed up my range bag so it performed as a makeshift rest.

I fired. Center of the bullseye. I fired again. Center of the bullseye. I fired a third time. Center of the bullseye.

After that, I quit. I wasn’t sure my shots weren’t flukes, because there were only three, but it was getting dim out, and I was excited. I wanted to kill some squirrels.

When I went to pick up the target, I saw that all three shots had gone into about a quarter-inch hole. No, I did not miss the target with two shots. It was obvious three shots had landed.

I headed over to squirrelville, and on the way, I thought about the crow I was going to have to eat.

I have criticized the Marlin 60 for good reason. The guts are cheap. The factory trigger is disgusting. The quality control is sub-Chinese. The gun doesn’t come with swivels, and it’s made so major surgery is required to install a real forward swivel that doesn’t put pressure on the barrel. I bought a Savage A22, which is a real gun made from real parts. The Savage comes with swivels, a much better set of iron sights, a fantastic adjustable trigger, a real barrel, a real receiver, and good quality control. I have been using the Savage and leaving the Marlin on my bedroom floor, which is my gun safe.

Now it’s starting to look like the Marlin works better. It’s still cheaply made, and I had to make a bunch of modifications in order to turn it into a real gun, but it’s very accurate for a .22, and it’s light and handy. Actually, it’s only half a pound lighter than the Savage, but the balance is good.

It’s more pleasant to hunt with. Arggh. There. I said it.

Doesn’t mean I nailed any squirrels yesterday, unfortunately. I got one 50-yard shot, which I took, even though I couldn’t get a good rest. A squirrel’s target area is about 1″ across, and personally, I can’t hold a rifle on an area that small at 50 yards without a decent rest. My shot sailed over the rodent and into a tree trunk.

I got another shot from about 15 feet, and I missed. It’s actually hard to hit small things up close with a scope, unless you’ve practiced. My scope’s axis is 2″ above the rifle’s axis, so I had to guess where the bullet would go. I had a full-body shot at the squirrel, but in order to make it a safe shot, I had to move until all I was able to see was his tiny, evil head. I missed.

Still, I can’t take back what I said. The Marlin appears to be a serious squirrel machine.

I plan to buy used golf balls and shoot them from various distances to find out how to hold over when shooting squirrels up close. I may also start taking a long bipod into the woods for distant shots. It’s a lot of aggravation, but so is missing squirrels.

I have a swinging metal target which has one gong the size of a squirrel’s head. I’ll be practicing with it today or tomorrow. Im also going to see if I can put lower rings on the scope to make it closer to the rifle’s bore and reduce error at short distances.

Do I owe Marlin an apology? Well, Marlin is dead, and the dead don’t have feelings. Ruger just bought Marlin from Remington, which is a bankrupt company. Also, I was right about the Marlin’s quality and design problems. Can’t take those criticisms back. It looks like it’s an inferior gun which works extremely well once the right person modifies it. Nicest thing I’m willing to say.

The Savage is made better, but it feels less handy. I think I’ll get a second Bugbuster for it. After that, maybe I’ll want to use it again.

If the Marlin continues shooting sub-MOA at 50 yards, and the Savage doesn’t catch up, I’ll forget I ever thought about the Savage. It could happen. Rimfire ammo is not great, but the shorter your distances are, the less the ammo matters, and 50 yards is (“are”?) a short distance. Ammo problems that cause serious deviations mean less at 50, and believe it or not, it’s not a simple error-to-distance ratio. A gun that shoots sub-MOA at 50 may shoot much worse at 100. You can’t just assume a gun that shoots x MOA at 50 will shoot 2x at 100.

More likely than not, my next 50 yard groups will open up to about an inch. Still good, but not squirrel-head good.

Guess I better get moving. Those gongs aren’t going to shoot themselves.

Surfing the Shock Wave of America’s Demise

I have often said I don’t get depressed. Depression was my normal state for my first three decades. I was crippled by a very dysfunctional family, I didn’t have enough character to overcome it, I didn’t know enough about God to get his help, and what I did know, I didn’t use. I wasn’t suicidal, homicidal, or ready for an institution, but I felt very bad a lot of the time.

After I was about 30, I didn’t have problems with depression, except for a short period while I was having problems in graduate school. I found some secular tools that helped temporarily, and before they ran out of gas, I turned back to God, and after that, I was fine.

Lately, though, I have started to feel a little listless. The inauguration sowed the seed. Over the last week or so, I’ve felt down, compared to my usual outlook.

Earthly life started to seem pointless. I was confident that America, the last major nation that was dominated by, and hospitable to, Christians, was in its death throes. I looked around me at the hysterical, irrational, ineffective restrictions imposed on us because of coronavirus, and it seemed to me that we were locked in place. Freedom of association was gone. Our ability to gather was a thing of the past. Evangelism and all the other functions Christians are supposed to perform were drastically curtailed, and online resources we used to compensate were being taken away by the cancel kids and their demon masters.

Our ability to accomplish our purpose by conventional means was greatly reduced, and we were headed into a time of extreme persecution which couldn’t end without ending the age we live in. Humanity was done with us for the most part, and only Jesus could rescue us and take us away.

This morning, I thought about it, and I realized the problem was not depression. It was grief.

Depression is sick and irrational. When you’re depressed, you tell yourself things that aren’t true. “I’m a loser.” “People don’t like me.” “My problems will get worse and worse. They will never be solved.” Grief is different. Grief, like joy, is a normal response to real events.

I was feeling grief because I believed my earthly country and my birth world were in the process of dying.

Grief is not an illness. It’s normal and proper. It’s not something you can treat away, because it has a real root that sustains it. Depression can be fixed by using supernatural tools, and even earthly tools can help a lot. Depression is abnormal and unhealthy, so you have to do something about it. Grief, on the other hand, has to be endured until it wears off.

Maybe that’s not completely true, though. Maybe God is willing to give Christians who are close to him supernatural joy to insulate us from grief while the world withers and the majority of people around us give themselves completely and permanently to the Antichrist. That must be true, because it’s exactly how God works, but how effective will his help be? We will still be bombarded with evidence of humanity’s self-destruction every day, and surely this will sometimes upset us.

I wonder if I’m feeling my own grief. I know God grieves, and sometimes he puts his own feelings in us.

I remember the first time I felt his grief. I’ve written about it before. I was visiting the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum. I saw huge mounds of shoes and eyeglasses the Nazis and their collaborators took from Jews who were later murdered. I felt grief saturate me, and I knew it didn’t come from me. I’m not so sensitive or empathic that I naturally get upset by sights like that.

I feel grief when I think about that visit. I also feel grief whenever I see a photo or video of the World Trade Center’s towers. That’s not me. I’m more jaded than that.

Am I feeling God’s grief now, or am I just reacting the the prospect of spending the remaining years or days of my life in a nation and a world in which my vile enemies have been given permament hegemony? It’s like being on a ship where a majority of those aboard have voted to beat the rest of us to death and run into an iceberg.

I tend to think of God as someone who is perpetually happy, but that’s wrong. What’s the shortest verse in the Bible? “Jesus wept.” God has expressed sorrow many times. Jesus told the Jews how he had wanted to embrace them and help them, even as their leaders were in the process of working to murder him. Through the prophets, God has told us about his sadness and his anger. I always think of heaven as a place where there is no unhappiness, but that’s wrong. God himself experiences unhappiness. I don’t know if people in heaven can be unhappy, but God can, at least until all his enemies are far away, burning forever, and the suffering of his children is finished.

I don’t know how long I’ll be here, and I still have to function. I have to attend to my responsibilities, and I don’t want unhappiness to become my normal state, so I can’t sit and wallow in grief. I’m going to apply my knowledge and get God’s help every day. Maybe I’ll be on Earth another 20 years and there will be enough pleasure and success in it to make it well worth it. I can’t sit and do nothing and bank on the rapture.

I wonder if there is still some way for things to improve. Will some way for Christians to socialize and do their job materialize? Will a day come when the masks come off? That would be nice. I don’t see it happening, though. We are being lied to on a grand scale. The government pays hospitals richly to call deaths “coronavirus-related,” so we are seeing obscenely inflated tallies which politicians will continue to use to extend their control. We’re supposed to believe America has 450,000 deaths, while Africa, which has a huge, unruly population and very limited medical resources, has a small fraction of that number. There are 1.3 billion people in Africa, and all of Africa has been exposed, so where are the deaths?

We’re also being told the seasonal flu magically disappeared. If the CDC is to be believed, there is no flu epidemic this year. The infection and death rates are close to zero. That doesn’t happen. Obviously, flu deaths are being turned into profitable coronavirus deaths. Either that, or God has restrained the flu and given us an “impossible” scenario in able to make us understand that coronavirus came from him.

Next, we’ll probably be told the vaccines are disappointing. They’ll probably keep telling us they work wonders, to get us to take them, and then those lucrative coronavirus deaths will mysteriously keep coming, enabling the government to keep the shackles in place and increase our ties to the socialist colonial organism.

It will be interesting to see what happens, but I don’t expect things to get better.

I had a weird thought about the way coronavirus attacks prisons and old folks’ homes while sparing the young. Is it possible the plague is focusing on people who are too corrupt to be changed?

It wouldn’t be all that controversial to suggest that prisons are full of hopeless, evil sociopaths who might as well be dead and who would be typical targets for God’s plagues, but can I really be serious when I say residents of assisted living facilities also draw God’s wrath?

Here’s something to think about. It’s a fact. Old unbelievers are extremely unlikely to change. Any evangelist will tell you this. People who can never belong to God because of pride and love of sin will, obviously, get old without improving. What kind of elderly people end up in homes? Not the blessed kind. Dementia and physical disabilities are curses.

Maybe ALF’s are getting hit hard not because of the confinement and the apathy of the caregivers, but because the resident population contains a lot of people whose nature attracts curses such as plagues.

If you’re locked in a building that smells like urine and feces, other people tell you what to do, you don’t know your children’s names, and you’re wearing a diaper, aren’t you cursed already? Why should one more curse be a surprise?

On the other end of the spectrum, children have very little culpability and much more potential, and it’s rare for children to die from covid or even to have symptoms. The older a population gets, the larger the percentage of culpable people becomes, and coronavirus works the same way. The older you are, the bigger the threat.

It looks a lot like progressive punishment.

It’s impossible to make sense of coronavirus. Either the facts they give us are false, or the disease itself defies the laws of nature. Or both things are true.

Nothing about coronavirus makes sense. The Chinese should have nipped it in the bud. They did a much better job with SARS, so we know they could have done better this time. Other countries should have focused on isolating the vulnerable instead of punishing all of us needlessly and inflicting unnecessary economic hardship. Once the virus was established, it shouldn’t have had any effect on the flu rate. It should have hit Africa harder than any other continent, but Africa has been spared, and wealthy America has the worst statistics. It virtually disappeared in China, in spite of everything the government did to help it spread. Established science told us masks don’t do much to stop the spread of respiratory bugs, and experts admitted this at first. Then they got the government to force us to wear masks anyway, and there was no noticeable flattening of the curve. Lockdowns should have worked, but they didn’t affect the curve, either, any more than they would have affected the curse on Egypt’s firstborn. Masks and lockdowns haven’t worked, and we need to be set free in order to avoid a recession, but our liberty is decreasing, not increasing.

The expert explanations are silly theories that are more heavily based on politics than science, and even experts don’t claim their theories are solid. They admit they’re guessing.

This is 2021. We know how epidemics work. Why can’t we figure coronavirus out?

If there is one blessing about the upheavals we see around us, it’s that God is helping us to see who and what can be relied on. I learned I couldn’t trust certain things I did in order to communicate with God. I got the impression that the rapture was coming in December, and it didn’t happen (unless it was really small), so that was a good lesson for me. A whole bunch of people “prophesied” that Trump would win, and some are still doing it while our permanently-gagged ex-President plays golf in Florida. I’ve only seen one individual admit he was wrong. Many people are clinging to bizarre theories and refusing to hold false prophets accountable, but the honest have learned there are certain people they can’t trust. That’s positive.

Here are a few of the preachers who prophesied incorrectly:

Kat Kerr
Kim Clement
Pat Robertson
Bill Johnson
Kris Valloton (admitted error later but pulled down apology video due to pressure from supporters)
Paula White
Hank Kunneman
Jeremiah Johnson
Mark Taylor
Lance Wallnau
Denise Goulet
Greg Locke
Marcus Rogers

Trump advisor Kenneth Copeland, who is about as good a copy of Satan as there could ever be, denied Biden’s victory and went into a bizarre spasm of what appeared to be demonic laughter.

These people, aside from the lunatic Copeland, who is beyond help, should really be talking about their failure instead of holing up and hoping people will forget. No one is going to forget. The enemies of God will still be reminding us when Jesus comes. I’m surprised their prophecies weren’t included in Super Bowl commercials. Pretending nothing happened is disgraceful and silly.

I thought Trump would win, but I never claimed it was a prophecy or a certainty, because I didn’t know for sure. I felt it would be very much in line with the increasing polarization and hate in America. I thought if Trump won, it would inflame already-smoldering insane leftist hate and cause our cold civil war to go hot. That made sense to me, and I also felt great faith for a Trump win when I prayed, but while God was surely willing to answer our prayers, American voters, who actually held the power to decide, were not.

Sometimes we pray to God when the only ones who can answer our prayers are other people.

A guy I used to think heard from the Holy Spirit now says the government of the United States has been arrested. Apparently, the troops in DC have arrested everyone who is against Trump, and he will be brought back in triumph. He has not explained how Pelosi and the rest still appear in public, doing their jobs without shackles. How he can believe what he believes and still be sane enough to function is beyond me.

Trump associated with the wrong people. He palled around with money preachers and self-promoters. Maybe this is why he failed. I can relate. I used to associate with them, too. Maybe if he had been in touch with the Holy Spirit, and he had surrounded himself with real men of God, God would have been able to shape his actions so he would have been more appealing to the electorate.

Too many Christians ended up worshiping Trump, America, and ourselves.

For a long time, I’ve been asking God to take down the corrupt ministries and bring power and help to the people who speak the truth. The money preachers took a big hit when Trump lost, so does that mean God is also helping hordes of obscure individuals who are out there giving people the straight dope? I hope so. I’ve been expecting that to happen for years.

I’m going to keep focusing on prayer and repentance. I’m going to try to get God’s help to increase the activities that work for me. I don’t know how pleasant life can be under the current circumstances, but I want to make the most of it instead of being a whiner and accomplishing nothing.

My Creationism is Better Than Yours

I am free. I deleted my Christian Mingle account. I didn’t just cancel it. I removed it. I also removed my credit card from my account, because I had read about people having difficulty stopping payments.

The last straw came when I realized even the ugly and very old “women” who contacted me were generally men in Africa. It was like a vision of hell. I see hell as a place where nothing goes right and you are reminded constantly that you have failed. That’s Christian Mingle.

When I was a little kid, I had nightmares most nights. I had the same dreams over and over. In one of the dreams, I was at a party. We were outdoors. It was a beautiful day. There was grass under our feet, and we were surrounded by trees. It felt like a birthday party in my honor. I would approach the other partygoers, and adults I really liked would come up to me and smile and hold their arms out. Then every part of them would start to twist and fall to pieces, and as this happened, their expressions would change from warm smiles to cruel leers. The leers would persist until their faces were gone.

This, in a nutshell, is what Christian Mingle is like. You start communicating with someone who has a very interesting profile and reasonably attractive pictures. Then you get a message that says something like, “hi handsome how is you doing come to hangouts for my sexy foto.”

I have always believed my childhood nightmares came from demons who enjoyed bullying children. I guess they moonlight in the pus-oozing souls of dating scammers.

If the scammers are like demons, the management of Christian Mingle is like Satan himself. It oversees them. It knows about the scammers, and it could get rid of the majority of them in a week, with simple software changes. Those changes are not made, because scammers pay. Christian Mingle gets a big percentage of its revenue from them. In reality, they are probably more important to Christian Mingle than real customers. Real customers get disgusted and leave, but scammers stick around like stubborn stains. To leave Christian Mingle would be to give up their careers.

I think some of the morbidly obese women I heard from are real, although they might not be, because Africans tend to think obese women are sexy, and they may assume Americans feel the same way. I think the lady with no hands or feet was real. The 77-year-old was probably real. Other than that, just about everyone was clearly a scammer.

As for my other forays into new Internet arenas, MeWe is going well, and I rarely look at Rumble.

MeWe is the alternative to Facebook. It in no way compares to Facebook. It has a tiny membership. But the people are less insane, censorship and punishment for thoughtcrime are extremely light, and MeWe doesn’t chase you all over the web, selling you to untold thousands of annoying advertisers.

I have had some issues with MeWe. I joined an AR-15 group because the AR-15 is an extremely, amazingly difficult gun to understand, work on, and use, and I thought I would find help. I quit the group because the members were hostile, immature potential mass shooters.

Okay, I don’t know if they’re potential mass shooters, but I think militia membership is a serious possibility for many of them. And I got tired of watching their profane chat roll by in a window I could not completely get rid of.

I dumped the group without notice. It wasn’t for me.

I also declined two contact requests. I realized they were from right-wing spammers who wanted to fill my screen with political memes. I have an existing contact who does the same thing, but I muted him or whatever.

I joined a gun group, and today some idiot put up a porn spam post. It was a photo of a whore in her underwear, and the caption said something like, “Do you want to see my gun?” What is that supposed to mean? I blocked and reported the account, but I still belong to the group.

Other than these problems, the site is okay. I have had useful interactions with other men who use tools.

Rumble seems to be about 98% political content and spam, and political spam. Other than that, not much happens there. But you can put up a video with the title “Sodomy is an Abomination” and not be bothered. I think you can also put up nearly any gun-related content you want. Not sure.

I criticized the movie 2001 here the other day. Then I did something which may sound odd. I borrowed the novel from The Open Library. I finished it yesterday afternoon.

It was a very creepy experience. As I have said, the book ends with a single man aging in luxurious but solitary quarters while a superior being looks after him and installs upgrades. Then he leaves his worn-out body and becomes a giant space baby, implying he has evolved into a better life form. The story bothers me, because I am a single man aging in luxurious but solitary quarters while a superior being looks after me and installs upgrades.

I always say the earth is God’s womb, and our purpose here is to make it through gestation and be born into a better universe.

The book’s author is Arthur Clarke, an eccentric engineer who did something or other that was really important in the development of communications satellites.

Here is the obvious question: why make up a creation myth involving imaginary beings that do pretty much what God does, when you could just accept God? Likely answer: because you’re too proud to do things God’s way. You want to hold onto self-confidence. You don’t want to give up sin. You don’t want to lose your homosexual friends. Hey, living rooms don’t decorate themselves.

You know how the story works. Aliens leave an object on earth, and it improves monkeys so they can use tools. They turn into human beings. Then another object improves human beings so one of them turns into a big onmipotent space baby. In the novel, the space baby goes back to Earth and blows up an orbiting device which threatens to rain nuclear destruction. I think this means he’s ending the nuclear race, but I’m not sure, since detonating the device, for all I know, is his way of spraying away a bothersome human infestation.

My guess is that it’s Clarke’s clumsy, predictable comment on bad, bad nuclear weapons.

Here’s the weird thing about the novel: it posits a world in which evolution does not happen. It’s a denial of science.

If the aliens hadn’t left the big black box with the monkeys, they would have starved to death due to stupidity. The novel doesn’t just imply this. It states it. The monkeys live in a world which has been stricken with drought for 10 million years. They are too dumb to form social attachments. They are even too stupid to fight together when leopards show up. Clarke tells us the idea of uniting against natural enemies doesn’t occur to them. Without help, they will never make it.

This is not the way nature works. It’s amazing how ignorant Clarke was. Even bees will gather to fight intruders. I’m not going to sit here and make a list of animals that gang up on other animals. It’s too obvious a notion to have to defend. Even rats have social attachments.

The idea that animals just give up and die out when nature changes is pretty much the opposite of what the theory of evolution predicts. I studied evolution in college under a naturalist, and while I am no expert, I can give you the basics. The environment provides challenges known as selection forces or something like that. In a sufficiently large population of creatures, there will generally be some individuals that possess genetic advantages that allow them to reproduce a lot in spite of the pressures. Those advantages become more common in the general population as the descendants of the advantaged creatures replace the descendants of the ones that can’t hack it. Sooner or later, the advantages become standard equipment. This, science tells us, is how we made the transition from globs of inanimate proteins, then to people who think Kim Kardashian is interesting, then to monkeys, and then to classical composers and theoretical physicists.

If it sounds like a stupid theory, I agree. There are big holes in it, and you can read about them in works written by evolutionist diehards, not just creationists.

A lot of people think evolution means the process of going from simple creatures to brilliant, complicated creatures. That’s totally wrong. There is no reason why evolution couldn’t make creatures dumber and simpler. The driving force is reproductive success, not nature’s innate craving for symphonies and fusion reactors. It’s a little odd that evolutionists think human intelligence is the product of evolution, given the way trashy people out-reproduce smart ones.

Why an atheist engineer would write an anti-science, pro-creationism book is beyond me. My guess is that he didn’t see it for what it was. He may have been a brilliant engineer, but STEM people tend to be lacking in other types of intelligence as well as common sense.

2001 is definitely a creationist book. It just substitutes black boxes for the actual creator.

Here’s a problem for Clarke: if the super-evolved alien beings were necessary to improve human beings and turn them into similar beings, who did it for the aliens? In his version of science, the ancestors of the aliens would have been just as lame as ours, but they didn’t have other aliens to help them, so where did they come from?

From the vortex of cognitive dissonance. That’s my bet. The same place where Jews got the idea that leftists who hate Israel are their friends and conservative Christians are their enemies. The place where Americans got the idea that the Proud Boys are terrorists but BLM and Antifa are civil rights organizations.

Clarke was not a deep thinker, outside of engineering. It looks like he’s in the same boat as Einstein, a man whose useless remarks about life get way too much admiration, simply because he was good at one thing.

I feel like going outside now and blasting a couple of squirrels I just saw in the yard. Wish me luck.