Archive for November, 2017

RUNNING THE RACES

Thursday, November 30th, 2017

Right up until 2008, things were going along well with racial differences. The NAACP’s divisive voice had quieted considerably as blacks found themselves merging more and more with the rest of society, and finding more and more acceptance as a direct result of their own decreasing racism.

The “White Guilt” ploy had worked pretty well to get those of other races to be more accepting of blacks and offer more equal treatment. There was some backlash, but not much and it died out as black racism itself died out. Generally, America was finally becoming free of racism on all sides.

Then Barack Obama was elected and began promoting racial division and hatred in a big way, even to using taxpayer money to fund racist Negro groups like Black Lives Matter and the Black Panthers, and invited Al Sharpton and other hateful racists to the White House and celebrated them. He launched a hate campaign against the police of America, aimed particularly at white police, that’s resulted in the murders of a number of police officers, mostly white, and the murders are still happening.

The reality is that black Americans would be serving themselves best if they were to join with white people in the effort to stop the influx of Mexicans and other Hispanics, and reverse it. Blacks become the tools of the Globalists when they fall for the “Hate Whitey” doctrine. The Globalists, Barack Obama among them, want to tear down America, to destroy it as a great power, and they seek to destroy the country from within. Black crime, riots and dissension serve only that purpose and do so to the harm of black people more than anyone.

Blacks are only 12 or 13 percent of our population, while Whites make up 77%. The more Blacks show racial hatred toward whites, the less jobs they’ll be able to find, the greater their poverty will be, the more of them will turn to crime, the more they’ll end up in prison, gaining nothing, losing everything, by succumbing to the hateful words of the Globalists with Judas goats like Al Sharpton leading them to their slaughter.

This, while illegals, mostly Mexicans, swarm in and take the jobs that many of us had, including many blacks, while they spread the use of heroin, to mostly blacks, and commit heinous crimes on blacks to drive them out of areas the Latinos want to make their own exclusive turf. Latinos/Hispanics don’t like Americans of any color and they especially don’t seem to like black ones.

Racism is as normal as any other form of discrimination among humans, but hatred is not. It’s one thing to prefer the company of those who look and think like oneself and another entirely to hate those who don’t. American blacks would be smart to stop being suckers for the Globalists and join with the rest of us against the illegal aliens from the South.

BOWING BIRDS, TROLLS ON PARADE, AND OTHER DEBACLES

Saturday, November 25th, 2017

When I was a little boy I recall my father’s parents having one of those little hydrostatic wonders called The Drinking Bird. It’s a device roughly the size and shape of a bird that you place a glass of water in front of and dip it’s beak into. The cooling evaporation draws a liquid up a tube from the base, causing the thing to tip over on it’s pivot points from the weight imbalance, dipping it’s beak in the water again and repeating the process.

I bought some from China for the shop and set one to going this evening and it struck me that I’d always wanted one but never got around to buying one. Now I have a small batch and it dawned on me that these things should sell really well. So I ordered a dozen more. But the real point is that after all these years and all the opportunities I’ve had before to acquire one, I never did and now I wonder why not?

Anyway… There I was at the shop this morning watching the March of the Trolls, the blithering, filthy, piss-reeking, brain-fucked meth addicts walk past and seeing a couple of them wander around my shop hoping for something valuable to snatch up and sell for drugs. One who’s been in before was asking me the price of some incense hanging from a rack, and was no doubt very disappointed at it’s low price. She left after rushing about the store touching and tapping various items but stealing nothing.

I’m going to start doing what my landlord and neighbor merchant does and chase these derelicts out of the store the second they walk in. They’re only looking for something to steal anyway, and they smell really bad.

A few hours after the Troll Parade went past in the morning, the Annual Town Parade started up, with a strung-out bunch of vintage cars pulling boats with people in them and Christmas garlands on them, intermixed with vintage tractors pulling boats with people in them and Christmas garlands on them, and pickup trucks pulling boats and trailers with people in them and Christmas garlands on them, everyone calling out Merry Christmas, and young ladies on horses and little knots of people carrying banners and so forth, some of them strung out a block apart, and Highway Patrol and Sheriff’s Department patrol cars with lights flashing, and a few ambulances and a couple of ancient fire trucks, and the whole affair looking kind of sporadic and spontaneous and not really planned out well even though they’ve been doing it for over 40 years, every year, it finally trickled out and ended and everyone went home.

There was no Santa Claus and no theme to the parade that I could determine. I’ve been living here for over 5 years and this is the first I knew of the Annual Parade. It was probably the worst parade I’ve ever seen, but everyone seemed to be having a really good time riding in boats and utility trailers pulled behind old cars and such, and waving to people watching them. These people in this little town are probably the most unsophisticated group I’ve ever lived among, and that’s okay with me. They’re also more open and honest than city people, and the ones who come into my shop keep telling me how really glad the shop, and I, are here.

I can see why. The Irskine fire last year happened here, and it was the second-largest fire in California during a long season of really bad fires. People died, a lot of homes were utterly destroyed and the owners lost everything, lifetime accumulations. The poverty that’s endemic here only worsened, businesses closed up and the drive to Bakersfield for supplies is a hardship. Then I come along and open up the only crafts store in the entire area, sell stuff cheaply and provide low cost entertainment. I wonder if they’ll start a religion around me after I’m gone. It would be so much nicer if they did it now, I could use some offerings of silver and gold…..

WHEN DID I BECOME A PRIEST?

Wednesday, November 22nd, 2017

It’s the damndest thing. WHY should people running art and craft supply stores be treated any differently than people running any other kind of store. I mean, even the clerks behind liquor store counters aren’t burdened with the life histories of their customers, even when the customers are drunk.

Yet since the day I opened my shop doors, many of the people who’ve come in my door stop at the counter and begin telling me all of their woes. They tell me at great length about their medical problems, their financial losses, their children, their parents, they come and and start unburdening themselves as if I wanted to hear their tales of unhappiness and woe.

Not all of those who choose to confide in their sorrows do this. A few are upbeat and tell me of the fun they have crafting different things. One guy has been in twice with some home-made wood carving tools that are actually very nicely done. I bought them all from him, so he returned with a box full of huge vintage plastic airplane models, still new in the box, which he sold me at a very fair price. All this while, of course, he’s telling me about all the stuff he does. But that’s okay.

It’s the sympathy seekers, the lonely people who’ve been through hard times and want someone to commiserate with them, who seem the most likely to spontaneously verbalize their woes to me at the very sight of me. It’s really become a thing, anymore I half expect it from people. So I listen and nod and express my understanding, and eventually they wind down and leave, usually looking happier than when they came in, though not always. Sometimes they work themselves into a worse state or at least leave feeling unfulfilled. I can tell by their expressions if nothing else.

There is this one family that’s really a hoot. The wife is a really big woman. Not just very much overweight but also over six feet tall. Her husband is a dwarf, and they have a little dwarf daughter, six years old, who’s the size of a 3 year old. When they first came in I had a hard time keeping a straight face while talking to the husband, not just because of his body shape but because his eyes are of different size and shape. They’ve been in the shop 3 times now and I’m used to seeing him now, and by golly, these people have really taken a liking to me. Like I said, they’re a hoot because the little girl plainly thinks I’m Mr. Wonderful, and keeps putting on a show for me running around the store, while the wife dominates the dwarf guy, and he constantly asserts his manliness. There’s an almost pedophilic aroma about the relationship between that great big woman and that little male, but it’s a legal one, so what the hell.

Today the fat little bastard who’s been harassing me was back hovering around my doorway with an idiot teenage follower and I’d had enough, and went out, got right up in their faces and threatened the crap out of them. I guess that’s what it took, letting those two shits know that I’m not the least afraid of them and making it clear that they’d better stop screwing with me, because they took a wide berth of my shop and the whole area for the rest of the day.

I’ve had other shops in years past, a gift shop, a head shop, an antique store, plus two autobody shops, and never had to put up with anything like I have with this one. It’s because this town is special in it’s own unfortunate way. It’s crawling with meth and heroin addicts, along with homeless vagrants and lots of poor retired people. I really did pick a hell of a place to open a store of any kind, but you know what? Right across the street a crew is building a huge Dollar General store that has to be costing many millions of $$. I see no way they’ll ever pull a profit out of that expense but I’m really hoping they know something I don’t. This area could be prosperous if it weren’t for the entrenched human blight.

BULLIES IN TRAINING

Saturday, November 18th, 2017

My new shop is proving to be a whole new exercise in patience, something I have loads of as long as humans aren’t involved. Ah, but they are, young ones, teenagers.

There’s a group of 5 of them who zip back and forth along the cement walkway in front of the string of shops that I’ve rented into, who go very fast, yelling and screaming every time they pass my open shop door. The other day I went out tried talking to them nicely to see if they might find it in their black little hearts to knock that crap off, and they spent the last half hour of that day focusing all their efforts directly in front of my shop.

I ignored them and waited to see if they’d come back the next day, which was yesterday, and they didn’t. But this morning, a Saturday with no school to render them somewhat harmless, there they were again. Only 3 of the 5 this time, so I went out and told them to leave or I’d call the sheriff. I heard one of them say “Fuck you” to me as he was leaving, but they did leave. About 10 minutes after my regular closing time today, here comes the fat one, the little pig on a scooter, going back and forth in front of my door.

I already had him pegged as the leader of these kids, and was pleased to see that none of them were with him. I knew he was doing this to see if I’d really call the sheriff, but what he didn’t realize was that I was overdue to close up the shop after finishing up with my last customer. So while he was outside being a jackass, I was busy cleaning out the register, picking up my thermos and jacket, and shutting off the lights.

Just as he was making another approach on his scooter, there I was outside the door, locking it. I didn’t even bother to look at him, I just got in my car and drove away and left him standing there like the little idiot he is. How mean of me to take all his fun away like that, huh?

That fat bastard is in bully training, looking for victims, and thinks that old people are good targets. He reminds me exactly of my neighbor Brian, the guy who kept threatening to kill me every time he got drunk enough. I never met a bully who wasn’t a coward and I never will.

IT’S GOOD TO BE ME

Saturday, November 11th, 2017

As long as we continue to stay alive, years continue to pass for us and our bodies grow old. Personally, I never considered the passage of time to have anything to do with my worth as a person because my mind continues to stay sharp, my health good and my general condition to be as good as many and better than most.

It’s obvious, now that I’m well into old age, that most people see me as a peripheral sort of presence, someone not to be taken into consideration too seriously. After all, old people don’t live very long, generally, they’re not up and coming, they’ve shot their wad, run their race, and are now on the back burner of life. And so forth. Old people just don’t matter much.

What was never obvious to me until this afternoon and evening is that even old people consider other old people to be unimportant and peripheral.

Two months ago I decided that it was true, that if we’re not busy living, we’re busy dying. I was focused on trying to make sure I had enough money to outlast me, and was being very careful of what I spent, when it came to me that what I was doing was being busy dying. So I decided to DO something, and after looking around at our little group of communities, I settled on opening an Art and Craft supply store, for the simple reason that there was none here.

Six weeks later, after strenuous and concentrated effort, the store was ready to open, and now, two weeks after opening, I was invited to and attended the local Art Association meeting. But before I get into that, I want to mention that almost everyone who’s come into my new shop expressed gladness, sometimes considerable gladness, that the valley finally had a well stocked art supply store.

Okay, so the meeting was to start at 4:30 this afternoon and I arrived about 5 minutes early, only to find everyone sitting in a circle and discussing the election of new club officers. I was totally ignored, even by the person who’d invited me there, and stood there like a tree stump until finally one of the people I knew got up, welcomed me to the meeting and introduced me as the owner of the new store.

These people all felt very important, being members of the Valley Art Association and all, and no doubt most of them see themselves as really good artists. The home where all this took place is a big, expensive house. There was quite a bit of artwork on the walls, and most of it was awkward and amateurish with some of it looking like Grandma Moses doing Paint By Numbers. I was sincerely unimpressed and that’s only fair, since most of them were doing their very best to express their sincere unimpression of me. Not one of them asked me if I did any sort of art or craft. Not one. Only a few of them out of about 20 people even spoke to me.

I went to this little soiree not knowing how it would go but not expecting much, which is a good thing. I did it because for my shop, it was the smart thing to do, politically. I of course handed over the money for a membership in this exercise in organized snobbery, and with any luck I’ll never attend another meeting unless there’s something in it for me, because every one of them is a phony.

I can see past age. I give equal respect to children and the aged, both are valid humans until they prove otherwise. Of course, I give the same respect to birds and squirrels as I do people and anything else exhibiting sentience. This doesn’t make me superior to those who don’t, it makes me luckier.

And now, I would like to quote Spiro Agnew, one of our former corrupt Vice Presidents, who so very aptly said THIS: “A spirit of national masochism prevails, encouraged by an effete core of impudent snobs who characterize themselves as intellectuals.” A truth that will prevail beyond time itself.

SO? HELP ME? GOD?

Sunday, November 5th, 2017

If you attend an Islamic “church”, aka mosque, regardless of which sect you belong to, someone of another Islamic sect may decided to blow up your church and everyone in it. Or shoot everyone, or just go in with a bunch of guys with knives and stab and behead everyone.

If you attend a Christian church, aka temple, regardless of which sect you belong to, someone of another Christian sect may decide to go in and shoot everyone dead.

In Texas today, an Irishman did just that to the members of a Baptist church. I’ll assume the Irishman was a Catholic and out to rid the planet of those filthy apostates. Of course, he could also have been just another Left Winger with a bunch of guns who wants to convince the rest of us that guns are bad instead of insane assholes like himself. It is a major push of the Left to take away our guns, and has been long before Mickey Mouse began committing bestial acts with Pluto. Or was that just an ugly rumor? Anyway, they do, they hate the Second Amendment and want desperately to disarm us so we can’t fight back when they go to take over our country… in their dreams.

BUT TO ME the bottom line in all these church slaughters and mosque slaughters is that if you’re not superstitious and don’t subscribe to worshiping spirits and believing that dead people come back to life and stuff like that, then your odds of living a long life are not only considerably improved over the Devout, but you also save tons of money otherwise given out in tithes and paid for in travel costs. Oh yeah, and in hospital and funeral expenses.