Really Racist?

Posted on 30-August-20206-September-2020 by Alan Webb

Y’know, I should walk away. Let go and let God. Put the folks who claim I am really racist on the list of things I cannot change. Instead, I am going to go there. So it goes, I’ve been declared really racist.

Search this blog. Scroll through facebook.com/knogeek. Look through my other social media. Hit the web sites I own. Find the place where I’ve said that a certain ethnicity is less than another. Identify the hate speech you find. When you find it put your evidence in the comments below this post. I’ll wait.

I really look forward to the comments. Somebody will find something. It’s how it goes. The triggering premise is that I am really racist. So those who believe this must confirm what they already believe. Facing a lack of evidence they’ll invent something. The ad hominem attack must affirm the orthodox narrative that I am really racist. No other option is possible.

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“When did you stop being really racist?” Uh huh. “Are you now or have you ever been really racist?” I’m that guy. The one who will agree that I am really racist in spite of no evidence to affirm the claim. Why? Because what would be the point of arguing with someone who is so full of angst and rage that their brains are on full stupid? Can’t find a reason to argue with a raging snowflake? Thought so.

Why? Why would I allow myself to say that I am really racist? It’s an absurd move. I said it because the option to be anything else has been taken from me. Simply because I have the genealogy I have and because my Dad succeeded in pursuing the American Dream I am declared bougie and thus, really racist.

Lately, the fashion is to declare white people to be irredeemably really racist. We were born in racism and we will die racist. Nothing we do or say can change that. No number of hours in unconscious bias training sessions will remove the stain on our souls. White people are really racist in their very nature.

Calvary Cross Russian Orthodox Really Racist

The Cross of Calvary

Fight or flee? Neither. There is no point in fighting someone who is so drunk on blue Kool-Aid that winning an argument with them is harder than teaching a pig to sing. Flee? That’ll go well. Our sins have a bad habit of following us wherever we go. So, an invisible third must be found.

I’ll tell you the invisible third I have in a bit. But before that, some back story. I have a two year beef between me and a user in this space named CaptWhite. About two years ago I stumbled upon Ms. White’s declaration that I was probably not a “real” Christian, mayhaps “really racist” and definitely sketchy. She didn’t know my heart and wondered if, under all that passive-aggressive talk talk about grace lay an evil man who hates black people.

CaptWhite has triggered a fair number of posts in response to her declaration that I am sketchy if not really, really racist. So here we are. Black Lives Matter and fellow travelers are filling the headlines with Maoist proclamations that white people are innately evil and thus, deserving of what the group perpetrates against them. CaptWhite seems sympathetic to their cause and their actions. This implies that I, being white, could be seen as really racist and deserving of retribution. Woo.

Stolen Story

Here is what’s worth 1500 words of a rant about racism: you stole my freedom to tell my story. I’m not allowed to have any story of my own. It must be a story assigned to me based on approved tropes about white people. These tropes are rooted in the hatred and jealousy of a drunk and opiate-addicted Karl Marx for his peers. As a WASP I am deemed to be privileged and thus, a member of the bourgeoisie. My assigned story is an accusation that I am somehow responsible for the collective misery of everyone who isn’t white.

There are only a couple of things that will make me want to fight. One is not being heard. I don’t care if you agree with me. It’s actually more fun if you don’t and can make a convincing argument. What does piss me off is failing to listen to me. I want to be heard. I get pissed off when I feel like my story isn’t getting across. The other thing is feeling desperate that I am surrounded by those who only want war. I was raised to never fight. I was bullied because I wouldn’t stand my ground. So opponents who just want injury or death scare and anger me.

I know little of BLM save for what filters through to me on social media and what I’ve read on their web site. There is that and what CaptWhite has said on her facebook page. The trigger for me was another post from CaptWhite where she would not allow replies. This is how I felt her post–she is free to say anything, even something hurtful to me, and I am supposed to just suck it up. I am not allowed to be heard.

Indelible Stain

It’s been 19 years. The last time I hit my son’s Mom was in December of 2001. In 2002 I made a promise to my son to never speak ill of her. Out of that promise came a commitment to practice giving grace first and to only desire Christ. I’d like to say it’s been a solid walk since. It has not. I lose it once in a while. I forget my promise and begin to be seduced by the impulse to break my commitment.

Why would I agree that I am really racist? Because of the cross. Because Christ martyred himself on the cross and took sin and death with him to Hell. Martyrdom is the invisible third answer between fight or flee.

I can continue to devote myself to Christ and to shedding any desire that keeps me from Him. I can also give grace first to everyone and especially to those who are enemies. Jesus’ church so deeply hated him that his church leadership demanded that the Romans crucify him. He is my example.

Die to Live

By that example, it doesn’t matter what I am accused of. My task isn’t to win the battle against those who malign my reputation or hold anger in their hearts against me because of a story imputed to me. My task is to follow and desire Christ.

This is a “do you trust me?” moment in my life. On one of my more desperate moments Jesus asked me if I trusted Him, “Yes.” “Then shut up! Stop whining about what you don’t have and what you can’t do.” Then my phone rang and it was Darlene. She needed a ride to the grocery store. Read the post about her for the full story. Darlene is a big reason why I have what I have today.

Today, there is a war between heaven and hell underway. Maoists, Sendero Luminoso, and their fellow travelers got a the green light to foment a Communist revolution in this country. Groups like BLM and Antifa are the infantry in this uprising. Christians are an enemy of the revolution and thus, on the target list. So, yeah, really racist and an enemy of the revolution, YAY!

Irredeemable

Not yay. This sucks. Am I really racist? I hope not. To be really racist I’d have to give up my commitments to Christ and to my son. I don’t believe you can be a sincere disciple of Christ and be really racist. But that choice has been taken from me. I’m not allowed to be anything but really racist.

There is a lot more in common across humanity than we sometimes admit. The archetypal heroes tale recurs around the world. Most of us live the seven stages of life spoken of by William Shakespeare in, “As You Like It.” The normie life I was raised in featured a two-parent home and a father who worked a good union job until retirement. If there is one divide it is between parents and children. You are a child until one night, the lovemaking conceives a baby. That night, you cross over into the realm of parenthood never to return. Except for that, the arc of our lives is rather similar whether you live in Manhattan or in a Zulu village. Life for the working man hasn’t changed much since the Roman Empire. We are not so different.

And yet the Maoists insist that there must be a difference. They need the proletariat and the bourgeoisie to perform their respective parts in the absurd play called Social Justice. There cannot be justice or peace.

No Justice No Peace

The peace of Christ is a threat to the Maoists. This makes me a threat to anyone loyal to Maoism. Good times. This is the end . . . So . . . I try to avoid preaching. I’m not going to end on “you should do this.” You should do you. I’ll keep practicing my faith, letting go of anything that interferes with my desire for Christ and His peace. My haters are gonna hate. My prayer is that we quit fighting and start hearing each other.

Boogaloo Couch Slug

Posted on 10-August-202027-August-2020 by Alan Webb

Charlie is useless Boogaloo Couch Slug. He howls like a wounded toddler at the suggestion that the empty bag of Cheetos belongs in the trash. Then he’ll petulantly ask you to do that for him. The empty Chinese Takeout containers? Ain’t there people for that?

Charlie the Boogaloo Couch Slug occupies space in this blog because he befriended Inger’s parents. The boy inveigled his way into house sitting and being a roommate to Inger. Mom thought he was a perfect ten. This meant that for Inger, Charlie was a perfect zero. I get it that Inger would rather have this couch slug disappear into some forgotten depth of my imagination.

The World Ended, Not

Charlie is forgettable. He’s one of many business school graduates who completed the punch list of items one does as a desirable future husband and career functionary in some cubicle at KPMG. Charlie comes to this blog as a couch slug who slimed Inger’s basement. He was invited in by Inger’s parents because they thought she’d like him, maybe marry him and settle into hausfrau bliss. They thought wrong.

In front of Mom and Dad he’s the perfect boy. Pleated khakis, Florsheim Oxfords, Phi Beta socks, Land’s End Oxford shirt, boxers, not briefs, and wife beaters. Axe body spray because his Mom likes it. Natural orange hair, blue eyes, freckles, chubby, and wreaking of Old Virginia money. It’s a beard he wears to keep Mom & Dad at bay.

The rest of the time he’s in an electric boogaloo t-shirt, pajama pants, and dear foam slippers. His living space is a shrine to empty Chinese takeout containers. Front and center is a wet dream gaming setup consisting of 9 32″ monitors hung from an Ergotron stand, an Alienware Aurora PC worth three months pay for me, Razor keyboard and mouse and Logitech G560 speakers. It’s good to be rich.

Chicken Fried Steak

Here is my beef with Charlie. He has no opinion. Actually, he has your opinion until your opinion is something he disagrees with. Then he gets this face like he’s shit his pants. And his normal baritone shifts up to right where the vocal break is. So he sounds like a prepubescent tweenie struggling to sound grown. Suddenly he is full of opinions on what you need to do so that he can be happy.

Also, Charlie snores–Boogaloo Couch Slug snores. I made the mistake of letting him crash on my couch this summer. Great bellowing, sleep apnea snores filled my night. I spent too many homeless nights sharing a church social hall with 39 other guys in an unconscious chorus of elephant seal snores to be OK with this.

Stop Smiling

Next, Charlie is melancholy. He’s an Eeyore. Everything is OK until it isn’t. And it mostly isn’t OK. The sun is out and it’s too hot. It’s cloudy and he’s worried about the rain. It’s raining and I have to listen to him talk about a tropical storm somewhere in the Atlantic that is going to wipe out D.C. and cause Mama Pelosi to be queen—the worst dystopian nightmare ever.

I can’t do Charlie. Charlie the Boogaloo Couch Slug is like having whiskey in the house for a recovering drunk. His social chameleon thing scratches an itch to be contrary just to get a rise out of him. I have to fight urges to slap him silly so he’ll have an opinion of his own.

You can disagree with me. I like it when someone believes in their opinion enough to argue with me. Charlie weasels about until he figures out if you are red or blue and then changes his skin to match. He does this with stupid stuff like picking from a bbq menu. On politics, he has the opinion of whatever headline is on breitbart.com. Or whatever he thinks will ingratiate himself to you. Religion? He was raised Synanon, so there is that.

Free Will is Scary

IMHO, Charlie has a few major malfunctions. The first is his presumption that he does not have free will. He has no agency, no ability to act in his own self-interest. So he molders on a couch of his choosing and binge watches YouTube videos of other guys winning at some random VRPG/D&D thing. Next, he is a victim of the evil Maoists who won’t let him shine. Yeah, let that rattle around your stomach for a bit. Last is his morose character. One more, he’s more choleric than melancholy. Oh, and the Walking Dead was a documentary, fact.

I’ve started to describe Charlie’s safe space. He built the first one in the basement of Inger’s Stuart Street house. If you are a gamer you would kill to own his setup. The equipment was kept pristine. The rest of the living space was a shit-hole.

He dug his current safe space into the yard of his farm in Goochland. The bunker is 1600 sq ft. The house has gone to seed. The only evidence of the bunker is a sunken storm door near the house. OTA TV, shortwave radio, satellite Internet, and so on are on antennas on the roof of the barn and cabled to the bunker by underground lines. Electricity is solar backed by a Tesla PowerWall and underground lines to Dominion Power. There is a well and a creek on the property. Sewer is done with a septic system.

He bought the property with the contents, including a tractor and equipment for growing and harvesting hay. Locals have tried to contact him about selling the tractor and equipment. Or farming with it. Charlie is nonplussed. He’s too busy with Rift.

Understand that Boogaloo Couch Slug Charlie is Right

One more thing about Charlie the Boogaloo Couch Slug. Actually, it’s the same thing mentioned above. Charlie has your opinion until you stumble across something he disagrees with. Then, it’s not that you are entitled to his opinion. I have a lot of family members who believe they are correct and you need to get used to that. Charlie goes further. Now the fangs come out and you discover that not only is he correct but his approval depends on your compliance with his advice. You have to do as he says or there will be trouble. There is trouble. I don’t take kindly to being ordered around and Inger doesn’t either.

Charlie failed a shit test when BLM was in Richmond this summer. He was at the Lee Monument standing at the fringe of the crowd. A girl dressed in some sort of goth/black block/club hot outfit walked up to him holding a rattle can of fluorescent pink paint, “Hey! Want to do something real? Go up there and spray ‘F12’ on the Lee Monument.”

Charlie got a look on his face as if someone had just shoved a chickenshit covered glass dildo up his ass, “Uhm, yeah, so . . . I dunno . . .”

Wrong answer, “are you for real or not?” He is not, “Hey, so, uhm, sorry but I have this thing I have to go to,” and he headed east on North Lombardy.

A Black Man’s M3 Wish Matters

“You SUCK! BLACK LIVES MATTER!” shouted the fashy goth girl as she melded into a gaggle of black block protesters. Charlie’s thing was his M3 parked in the Kroger parking lot. Shit test fail.

Inger, for her part, has been at her home (sort of) on East 16th Street from her bar-tending job. There is a door to Paradise in her 16th Street house. So, yeah, she’s home but not really. She watched the riots through local TV news. Black Lives to Matter to her but not at the cost of her city on fire.

When it comes to social justice or the fight against Communism Charlie ain’t shit. Fashy girl discovered he’s a titan on reddit and a total loser IRL. He’s good as long as he looks awesome in his selfies while he cheers on the Boogaloos.

Zero Sum

I’m not done ranting about Charlie. He’s transactional. You’ll have to forgive a bit of mansplaining. If you know, you know. If you don’t, well . . . nothing is free with these people. Nothing is free with Charlie. He has a memorized ledger for everyone he believes owes him or worse, he owes. It’s a loss of face for him if he owes someone.

So I can’t do any favors for Charlie because kindness creates a debt. The stint on my couch meant that I started getting hentai manga. Hot? No. I like my women warm-blooded.

He found some beef jerky coated in dried red pepper branded Ming-Ha. My ex, the Empress, has a similar first name. Big yucks for Charlie, big zero for me.

No Hope of Return

Why do I care about transactional people? First, the Empress is a brilliant and talented trader. She tends to win against white monkeys like Charlie. I could never win with her because I grew up with pink panty parents who felt entitled to their upper-middle-class lifestyle. They were not transactional so I never learned how to fight like that.

Second, the way I practice my faith is self-sacrificing. I do stuff for people with no hope of return. This is offensive to the Empress and to Charlie. Good. Moving on.

Last, this post is one of 16 that lay out the story I’m building related to Inger’s finger. In previous posts, I wrote about Paradise and the doors you use to get there. Charlie owes Saito-san some huge gambling debts. So his key is shut off. Which would deter most reasonable folk. Charlie isn’t reasonable. What he’s been doing is sweet-talking other key holders into letting him use their key. Trouble? Do you think?

Black Lives Don’t Matter

Posted on 25-July-20206-September-2020 by Alan Webb

Karen is an archetype symbolic of all the things folk hate about some women. She knows that you are entitled to her opinion. Second, she also knows that you are the problem. Last, she knows with scientific certainty that the answer is the manager. He’ll fix it so we can be happy. The manager can make us all stop saying that Black Lives Don’t Matter.

The Karen spoken of in this piece is deeply concerned about the fate of downtrodden black men who are prey to evil white cops. She is sure that there are secret meetings in the basement of local pizza places where they choose their young buck to hunt and kill. Karen, here is the thing. Black Lives Don’t Matter to you.

Karen and her friends while chanting “Black Lives Matter” express a hidden message that on some level, black lives don’t matter. There can’t be successful, contented African Americans. The only Black people they acknowledge are oppressed and downtrodden. Karen and her friends spend hours at Cafe Strada fretting over the desperate lives of those living in the Alcatraz Apartments. It’s exciting to fill the street outside the cafe with a cloud of smoke from Gitanes and sip doppio espresso while bemoaning the tragic lives of those living in Peralta Village. They love to show how much they worship Mao and are down for the cause of battling whiteness.

Karen Cares and You Don’t

Karen is all about her brand. She cares and wants to make sure that you know she cares. Her house is a temple to the things you can buy at Whole Foods. She can’t offer you lunch without a 30 minute PowerPoint deck on the work that went into the PBJ stuck to the roof of your mouth. I mean, the cows from Humbolt County on a farm owned by a friend of hers and are fed the trimmings from hemp plants so the milk has a little CBD in it and it’s raw milk, of course. The peanut butter is hand ground by women who live on a collective farm in Santa Cruz. And the jam she gets from a chef retired from Chez Panisse who makes it from wild blackberries collected from briars still growing on Native American land on Albany Hill.

This is how Karen connects to the “Black Lives Matter” slogan. Karen cares about the downtrodden with a high intersectionality score. She believes her words when she screams, “Black Lives Matter” into the face of a white cop. It’s important to Karen that you know this. It’s also important that you know she was on Harrison Street near Fourth in Berkeley painting “Black Lives Matter” on the sidewalk outside Bette’s Diner. She even got a selfie with one of the cooks.

Karen, here is the thing—you can’t chant, “Black Lives Matter” loudly enough, with enough emotion, to gain the approval of CHAZ/CHOP. I know you have a good heart and mean well. I get it that you hate having anything in your nest that isn’t right. None of that matters, baby.

Fight the Whiteness

Baby, you are white. That makes you the reason The Social Justice Party, Sendero Luminoso, Black Lives Matter, and Antifa are miserable. Eliminating you is their answer to ending their misery. You still live because they need you so that they can keep a veneer of being diverse. Soon enough they won’t need the veneer and your whiteness and bougie ways will be what kills you.

I understand, sweetie. You think that the problem is the statues staining the visual landscape. They are a bitter reminder of our ugly past as slave owners and traders. The statues hurt your eyes and trigger you. So getting rid of them will solve it. Your nest will be made safe.

No Safe Nest

It will not, babe. Your nest will not be made safe once the statues are gone. The Social Justice Party is invested in a long game where the only allowed art is work that celebrates Islam and Mao. I saw you seated outside Bette’s Diner. You won’t be able to wear the Martins, fishnets, hot pants and sheer tank top. The pink hair will get shaved off. All that hotness is offensive to the revolutionaries you believe are your friends. There is a burka in your future.

Everything that isn’t Muslim or Mao is offensive to these revolutionaries. Lately, we were told that soap is racist. Soap. You take pride in showing up to work on time, saving and investing wisely, working hard, and planning for the future. All of these are symbols of your white privilege and consequent deep racism.

Girl, listen, I understand. You want to make the world a better place. You want to feel safe. The Social Justice Party spoke sweet words in your ear and promised you an end to your fear and poverty. Your whiteness and love of the cause is the very thing that puts you high on the target list.

Twitter Said, “Orange Man Bad”

I stopped following you on FB and twitter. There is no point. You are drunk on blue Kool-Aid. I get blue team platitudes and slogans anytime I comment or engage with you. It didn’t take many memes in your feed to understand that you hate Trump. BTW—those basement meetings you worry about are not plans to murder young black men. They are plans to seduce you into becoming a prisoner on a train headed for Manzanar. Your BLM friends are the people behind this, not the Orange Shitweasel named Trump.

Maybe you don’t know why you hate Trump, tbh. And you want to like Biden but he keeps doing stupid shit. It can’t be that the evil orange man could be the answer. He is, though. He is, tbh. Biden and the Democrats don’t want an election. They want a revolution that destroys this country and replaces it with a totalitarian, National Socialist Government. Biden won’t be president. He’s too far gone. There is a cadre of revolutionaries behind Biden that see this as their Great Tribulation. This is their path to the post-apocalyptic paradise with a god-king at the head of a new empire.

Yeah, I’m nuts. The Social Justice Party just wants to create a fairer, more just society where no one suffers from lack. I wish this were so. Marx and Mao created a way of life that only knows strife. They can’t win because success would make them bougie and thus evil. It would also end the strife that is central to being a disciple on the Shining Path.

It’s Your Fault, Cracker

You carry the collective guilt of everyone who isn’t black by your whiteness and privileged upbringing. It is because of you and everyone like you that there is so much misery and oppression. Nothing you say or do is enough to redeem yourself. Your racism is in your blood by your ancestry. No amount of graffiti on Harrison Street changes your innate, deep racism. You were born this way and no amount of encounter sessions to cure you of your whiteness will ever be enough. Karen, these people hate you.

They hate your whiteness. They hate your cute little flat on Northside just up the hill from Euclid. The psuedo-goth leather and lace gear offends their souls. Your good fairy card at Whole Foods makes their hair hurt. It’s a sin that you volunteer at a pet rescue for cats. Your Prius pisses them off. These people hate you just because you are you. Welcome to the cause.

By your incessant shouting that “Black Lives Matter” you expose yourself as a racist. That chant is a tacit admission that you accept the lie that black lives don’t matter. You agree with your Social Justice friends that white folk carry an indelible stain on their lives. Far from being someone who foments love, your fight for the cause is primary evidence that you hate yourself and your kin.

Angerier

I was angrier. My name is Alan Webb and I am a recovering wife beater. I know anger as a drug that is as powerfully addicting as meth. It took me years to recover from a lifelong addiction to anger. Staying sober is still a core spiritual discipline for me. You feel your anger as righteous indignation. The list of things wrong with the world is longer than anyone can recite. The answer is a liturgy of slogans shouted with gusto by the Social Justice warriors in your circles of influence. Never uttered is a solution that could be implemented.

Rock bottom is a thing. Anger has long term health risks. It cycles our bodies through destructive explosive events followed by depression and illness. Anger addicts eventually suffer from heart disease, gastrointestinal problems, and insomnia. Anger destroys relationships. It leaves the addict abandoned and desperate. Anger eats your soul. Life at rock bottom.

I got sober through giving grace. I never asked for grace or mercy from anyone. God asked me to start forgiving, to give grace first. Later on he asked me to serve others through small acts of kindness done with great love. The third element of this trinity is to desire only Christ.

Peace Be With You

I’m just sharing. I’ll never ask you if you are saved. I’m not the guy who will badger you into uttering the prayer. This is a holy fight happening in your heart and the heart of many others. It is God’s fight and I have faith that he will win in the end.

I’ll end here. We all die. Some of us may go to heaven. That’s not important to me. What’s important to me is today, how we live and impact each other today. Choose the Social Justice way and its perpetual unrest or choose life as another lamp lighting the way of mercy and peace. Peace be with you. تصحبك السلامة

CHOPAZ

Posted on 15-June-202029-June-2020 by Alan Webb

I need a break from the insanity. The world is full-on cray-cray. Extremists have taken over a police precinct in Seattle and declared themselves to be an autonomous zone. It’s a move for a caliphate on our soil. Because our rules suck the CHOPAZ folk are going to make their own rules. The mob in control of the Capital Hill Autonomous Zone had a moment and decided that they wanted to be called CHOP. Autonomy has so much responsibility. And I mean, Starbucks on Pine Street is out of coconut milk.

Maybe this is the normal that I’ve been pretending isn’t normal. Maybe the world always was this cray-cray and I’ve just been in denial. Whatever. I need a timeout.

I know why they decided that they wanted to be called Capitol Hill Organized Protest (CHOP). The utopian scorched earth, start over from nothing idea feels so awesome. Clearly everybody else in history was a complete idiot who was fucking clueless when it comes to running utopia. Nobody got it right so the best move is to start from nothing and build it properly.

Clerical Nats for CHOPAZ

Once you do it there is a cloud of concerns buzzing about your head that demands attention. Suddenly stuff like a noise complaint becomes a huge thing because you kicked out the cops. You are bombarded with stupid shit you don’t normally worry about because somebody else takes care of that. Who the hell cares that CHOPAZ is out of baby formula!? Breastfeed! Seriously. So annoying!

These novel lefties who feel so good about themselves are making a classic yungin mistake. They forget that they/we are a node in a vast network of interrelated support. The world is profoundly relational. We need each other to make this shit show work. Throw everything out and decide to rebuild from nothing and you also lose the relationships that make your first world life possible. It’s not fair.

The vanguard of the new age isn’t just making the mistake that they don’t need anyone else. The other mistake is that history is bougie and bougie is evil. They don’t need no stinking history. What they need is to start from nothing and build their utopia the right way. Besides, those other Utopian Revolutions didn’t do it right. I mean, that thing about insanity being a rinse repeat of the past and expecting different results–that’s bullshit, right? Those other guys just didn’t try hard enough. They didn’t do the real Shining Path. These guys will get it right this time.

Next, some of these problems are timeless. God’s Eden before the fall wasn’t complete. His first couple was unable to understand the consequences of their actions. Everything was confusing. Adam couldn’t understand why shitting in the nest he slept in last night would piss off Eve. So, maybe what Eve did was evil. Maybe it disrupted an untenable life.

Free Will is Hard for CHOPAZ

We have had free will and the knowledge of good and evil since then. Did this obviate the possibility of evil? No. Two black men were shot by cops recently. Riots broke out worldwide in response,. Most of our news headlines tell the story of one more evil done. Yet CHOPAZ is led by folk who believe they can get it right this time.

Already in the short life of CHOPAZ the homeless folk they invited in as pets stole their food. A local gang leader assaulted them when one of the CHOPAZ residents decided to paint graffiti on a local business. CHOPAZ kicked out the cops so no help there.

CHOPAZ will not survive. These kids in charge don’t want the ugly work of running a village. Already they decided to change their name to CHOP. This way they can try to get municipal services while mugging evangelists. Village admin and ops work is ugly. This work will go unattended. The backlog of ugly work will become overwhelming.

CHOPAZ Wants to Have Fun

Once the misery gets bad enough CHOPAZ will collapse. It’s not fun being autonomous. CHOPAZ just wants to have fun.

So . . . yeah. I need a break from CHOPAZ, Black Lives S’matter, AntiFa(ke), Angry Creamsicle, Sleepy Joe, Mama Pelosi, Chuck You Schoomer, and all the rest. I need a vacation in Paradise.

There is an IRL Paradise Valley, NV. My Paradise isn’t that. It is, but like the Wizarding World of Harry Potter, it exists in a kind of augmented reality only possible if you have a key to it. Inger has a key. I have one. There are others in the hands of people loyal to its crime lord, Saito Genji (Gene).

‘Cuz I Need a Break

Gene in Paradise

The town is too small to need much in the way of municipal services. Most of the buildings run on wells and septic tanks. The most common internet connection is a jailbroken Hughes Satellite. Nobody pays for cable tv. They steal it. The town is too far from Winnemucca to make laying copper lines cost-effective. Cell service connects by a microwave tower to Winnemucca. One of Gene’s grandkids moderates the cell phone and internet connections.

No, you don’t have a right to free speech in Paradise Valley. Not for free. Gene’s friends enforce the law as they see fit. There is a magistrate that comes from Winnemucca once a month. Gene sees to it that the magistrate’s biggest decision is the size of the steak he’ll eat while in town and which girl will take care of him.

Gene is simple. Behave, pay him a bribe, or die. His definition of criminal assault is hurting any of his people at all. His sentence usually results in a 90-minute ride to Winnemucca to get patched up. Or the same ride in a body bag. Criminal assault for anyone else is decided on whether you are bleeding or ambulatory. If you are not bleeding and you are ambulatory then it may have been assault but it isn’t criminal. He doesn’t care about the seven deadly sins as long as he can make money on it. With no real municipal authority, there are no local taxes. Gene does extort protection money from independent businesses. He keeps that fee down so it’s affordable. Unless you piss him off. Then the move is to fold your business and leave town–walking as a first choice but on a stretcher otherwise.

We Don’t Need Cops

There is a volunteer fire company. Gene likes American Fire trucks so the town’s equipment is always less than 3 years old and top-notch. Ditto the ambulance. One of Saito’s friends has a cop car he uses to scare outsiders into paying a fine for “speeding” on the town’s only road. The friend is a lifelong BJJ and Hyoho Niten Ichi-Ryu disciple. This friend isn’t a cop. But this friend is also someone you want to respect and comply with.

Tsuba

The magical realist aspect of Paradise Valley comes in how you get there. If you take a road trip to the IRL Paradise Valley you won’t find Gene and his friends. To get to my Paradise Valley you need a special tsuba. This tsuba is a key that opens a portal to Paradise Valley. There is a portal in my living room closet and other places around the country and Japan. These tsubas are closely guarded by Gene. Thieves that steal one are hunted down and killed.

Paradise Valley is a refuge for outliers, criminals, adventurers, addicts, and crazies who just want to be left alone. Most everyone there has some sort of scarlet letter past that got them jail time and/or shunning. There is a Father Thomas, who is one of the priests accused of having sex with underage boys. He lives in a manse on the property of a former Baptist church. Father Thomas is guilty of publishing apologetics that ran cross to his cardinal. The cardinal was the one with a taste for young dick. No matter, Father Thomas needed to be gone so . . .

Would CHOPAZ folk be allowed in? Saito-san sells tsuba to tourists so they can come to get high, drink, gamble, fuck, and eat. These tsubas are tracked and once the money is gone or the reservation expires they go dark. Gene’s staff sees to it that the tourists make it home safe. Those that resist get a ride in the ambulance—sometimes in a body bag. So as long as CHOPAZ can pay and behave they would be allowed to visit.

By Chensiyuan - Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=70662680 — Shangri La

Viva Paradise Valley

Paradise Valley is like a magical realism Yakuza Las Vegas. It exists to empty your wallet by offering you a walk on the wild side. There is no pretense of utopia in Paradise Valley. Saito-san cares about cleaning out your bank account. He needs the things that locating himself in Nevada brings him. He’d shoot anyone who suggested seceding from ‘merica. Saito-san has no problem sourcing coconut milk.

One more thing. Genji Saito (斉藤源次) is a graduate of Kyoto University. He is an accomplished calligrapher and bonsai (盆栽) practitioner. Paradise Valley is staffed by Japanese trained in hospitality and hotel management. If you have ever been to Japan you understand the level of obsession with artful attention to detail. Paradise Valley is gorgeous and runs like a beautiful Seiko watch. As long as you stick to your lane you’ll have an incredible vacation.

Paradise Valley is the setting for part of the murder story I’ve had in my head for about five years. It’s the one that is launched by the discovery of a human finger on the back seat of a Cadillac Escalade abandoned in front of my house. One of these days . . .

Before the Fall

Posted on 14-June-202014-June-2020 by Alan Webb

Everybody likes to say that Eden before the fall was perfect. Adam and Eve could not sin because they did not know of good and evil. I disagree. Adam and Eve could do evil things in their innocence of good and evil. So sin was possible. God made us with free will. We have the free will to use a baseball bat to play a game. We can use that same baseball bat to kill someone. Today we know which is good and which is evil. Back then, maybe not so much.

God made Adam in His own image. In his own image, he made him. One thing was missing, though–knowledge of good and evil. God thought this was a good thing because it insulated Adam from some of the consequences of his behavior. If Adam didn’t know he’d done a bad thing then was it really a bad thing he’d done? Yes. Knowing or not knowing doesn’t change the impact of our behavior. You shit in the nest every morning. You make a new nest somewhere else every day–because you shit in the nest every morning. Shitting the nest is still bad even though you think it’s fine, Adam.

So there was Lilith. Jews and Christians don’t acknowledge Lilith as part of the canon in the Torah or the Old Testament. She’s a shunned folk tale from Hebrew literature circa 3BC. Lilith, the tale says, was made from the same soil as Adam and was his first wife. She claimed equal status with Adam and would not subjugate herself to him. The fight got so bad she threatened to kill all of Adam’s offspring. Angels intervened and got her to agree to only curse Adam’s children and flee Eden as an owl.

Lilith

Lilith predates Eve. She was made of the same soil as Adam. Lilith also predates the story of the fall. So Lilith could not know that she was doing anything wrong. She just knew that Adam was an asshole for saying that she was subjugated to him. She also knew that they were homeless because as soon as she left the nest to go wash up that motherfucker shit the nest.

God was Lilith’s father. I can’t take God’s name in vane. It’s enough to say that Lilith’s curses for her father can’t be spoken. Here is God’s problem. Lilith and Adam have done bad things they don’t know are bad. God made them in his image except for knowledge of good and evil and immortality. This was done to protect Lilith and Adam from sin. That went well.

Divorce was not a thing in Eden. Without Lilith, there would never be more than two people made in God’s image. Lilith’s fury over being forced to surrender Adam was so great the only answer was to let her escape Eden never to return. That’s a problem.

Eve

So . . . Eve, who God made from Adam’s rib. She’s not got it much easier. Adam still shits the nest and treats her like a pet cat. For more on this, you can read, “It’s Eve’s Fault” Also check out “Adam’s Defense“. The serpent says she has a better shot at getting him to come correct if he ate from the tree of knowledge of good and evil. The same tree Adam says God told him not to eat any of its fruit. Life for Eve as it was or risk death? Eve got there, got where death started to sound like a plan.

Eve didn’t die. God banished them from Eden. Survival meant hunting and farming. It was a hard life but a good life and they had two sons, Cain and Abel. Things worked out.

And there is your metaphor for utopian societies. People know of good and evil and still, do bad shit. Protesters are shocked that their tantrum hasn’t stopped evil in the world. As they screamed and rioted and looted and burned buildings a cop shot Rayshawn Brooks. Shit happens and somehow that’s something that can be changed, must be changed.

The Free Will Problem

This is the problem for BLM and AntiFa. Both of these have a free will problem. To accomplish their goals free will has to be abolished. It can’t happen. They want something even God couldn’t get—perfect obedience and perfect free will.

Perfect obedience is on a sliding scale with perfect free will. To have perfect obedience free will has to be eliminated. To have perfect free will you have to risk losing perfect obedience. Further, even if you achieve a nation with the objective of achieving perfect obedience there is always that small minority that fucks things up. That annoying little bunch does bad shit in spite of all that is done to get them to comply.

Eden before the fall was destined to fail. Lilith saw it. She fought with God and Adam to keep her equal footing and lost. Eve saw it too but took a different path for her fight. She chose to defy God and disrupt an untenable situation. She lost Eden and gained a family farm.

Plus One Murdered Black Man

So . . . George Floyd and Rayshawn Brooks are tragedies. It should not happen but it did. We are right to mourn their deaths and ask for better behavior from our cops. I don’t have a problem there.

My problem is with some of the Shining Path folk who want a pre-fall world. They don’t like it that we know of good and evil and still do bad shit. The standard they set is of a utopia where people would always make a perfect choice. That perfect choice is the one they feel is the right choice in hindsight. The choice their god would make in a pre-fall Eden.

In the case of Rayshawn, we have an encounter with the cops that went south. The mistake I see is continuing the fight as Rayshawn fled. It’s so hard in the heat of that fight/flee response to shut it down. We pay cops to fight when needed. So it’s what we want them to do when forced into a hands-on encounter with a suspect. Rayshawn was fighting to flee from the two cops that had detained him. Three men dealing with a bad fight gone south.

More Than Three Lives Changed

So now one man is dead and two men are accused of murder. The Shining Path folk are mad that all their violence and crime didn’t achieve the objective. Another black man dead at the hands of a white cop.

We live in a broken world. Nobody knows when the end times will come and Jesus restores the kingdom. Until then it’s more shitshow. Another black man will die at the hands of a white cop. I can’t predict where and when, just that with such a large and old empire the numbers on the side of it happening again.

We can’t riot and loot our way out of this. The only other escalation is war. Even then the survivors have to figure out how to carry on. So . . . sorry, but the only answer left is compassion. Forgiveness gives us the peace we’ll need the next time we lose another black brother at the hands of a white cop. Riots and the Shining Path can’t do what God does through grace.

Defund the Cops Already

Posted on 11-June-202011-June-2020 by Alan Webb

The protesters are high on adrenaline, “defund the cops already.” “Pigs in a blanket, fry them like bacon“. So much emo. There is a lot we say in the thick of a tantrum that makes so much sense and then once we calm down feels really stupid. We are not calm enough yet to figure out that disbanding the police departments across the country will not diminish white cop on black man violence. Nor are we able to agree that anarchy in our streets isn’t better than what we experience now.

Kiddos you learned the Boomer God Way too well. We taught you that you could have all of the seven deadly sins and none of the consequences. You understood that you can refuse responsibility for your own well being or the results of your choices. The BoGo Way doesn’t end well. Sorry that you grew up believing it could.

Who do you think would replace the cops in your neighborhood? Right. Community Boards would manage Community Policing in each neighborhood. Cops would be warm & fuzzy and unarmed. We’d teach them the talk rock technique so they wouldn’t interrupt us when we screamed, “you evil bastard pig. It’s your fault. Stop killing babies and making grandma eat cat food” before throwing a Natural Lime White Claw at their face. Awesome sauce.

Rue Paul for Police Chief

I’ve got stories about lawlessness. More than three. But for this piece, three are enough. First, I joined Taxi Unlimited in 1984. Taxi Unlimited was one of Berkeley’s surviving collectives. It’s heyday had long past when I joined. Taxi Unlimited believed in Marx and Proudhon. They hated the cops. Fights would break out at the office on Blake Street. We dealt with them ourselves.

That’s one. Next, I was an Oakland, CA cab driver when Felix Mitchell’s empire was sun setting. I have a scar on my scalp from two guys who wanted to rape and behead me. No, not good with that. I fought for 15 minutes before the cops showed up.

You know what . . . fuck this. Defund the cops? Y’all crazy. As I listened to talk radio today it turns out that defund the cops really means, “give us more money.” Give who more money? Local ward captains, Democratic Party Community Organizers, Social Services Bureaucrats, the usual suspects when a block grant is posted to the budget. Blue State legislators and governors are sweating because they are broke so the money part of fear and money is gone.

Kinder, Gentler Cops

Let’s brainstorm a bit. What would a committee of social justice warriors create if given a blank slate and tasked with designing a cop? S/he has to have a high intersectionality score. So no white cops and no cis-hetero-men. You know, actual guys. Right, sorry, binary gender isn’t a fact but a cultural construct. I’ll keep that in mind. Let’s go with a transgender who identifies as a woman. Let me translate for the flyover country people: a fucking drag queen.

Fashion. The uniform is huge. It can’t be triggering. Instead of a gun belt equipped with a flashlight, a nightstick, extra magazines, tear gas, a taser, handcuffs, radio, and holstered sidearm our cop will have a cute little backpack made of patent leather–so fash. S/he’ll wear a wool miniskirt fastened with velcro and a Japanese school uniform tunic. Shoes will be platforms with acrylic soles. We can even put little screens in the souls of the shoes that play N.W.A video on repeat. White knee socks, obvi! And of course, thongs and a push-up bra. Gotta give the girls some support!

Gear. All that heavy stuff that is so violent looking needs to go. We’ll give the cop an iPhone and Air Pods, lip gloss, nail polish, a compact with a mirror, kleenex, brochures explaining the talk rock techniques, and an easy overview of Sendero Luminosa principles, a Tide stain pen, ky jelly samples, clean needles, condoms, an 18″ soft dildo, and an iPad. Much better than that scary utility belt. CUTE!

Tuk it In

Patrol car. We should give them a better vehicle. “Ford Explorer” sounds gross. What are they exploring, hmmm? “Ford Taurus” isn’t much better. It’s so misogynistic and homophobic. We need to defund the cops and these obscene cars. Both the Explorer and the Taurus come with twin-turbo V6 engines making almost 400hp. Nobody needs that. I mean, testosterone and a powerful car is just trouble.

We can supply them with an electric Tuk Tuk. These have a range of 55 miles so our new police can’t get into too much trouble. Top speed is 25mph so no more worries about anybody getting chased. Rue Paul can help with the design. It’ll be so awesome!

Precinct buildings. These so need to change. What are these guys doing in there? Paperwork? You can do all that on an iPad. Get dressed? Ok. I can see that. But not lockers. A girl has needs. There is hair & makeup to do. Showers, yeah . . . those are hot. So tear down the locker room and give each cop a vanity with a mirror and lights. Better.

The jails are just wrong. Why are we putting people in cages? Why can’t they just do time-outs in their own neighborhoods? Seriously. If we have to have places to put people while they do their time-outs, can we include a stage with a brass pole? Light the place with UVB lights so everybody will look fabulous. And put in a bar so you can get a free Sex on the Beach and a burger. When we defund the cops we have to make jails that are more fun!

Teach Hair and Makeup

Training. Of course, they don’t need to learn to use a gun because we’ll ban & confiscate all the guns. They do need classes in safe sex, though. And how to instruct someone to safely inject themselves. For conflict de-escalation, we can equip them with triggered kits containing a fleece blanket, juice boxes, fruit roll-ups, coloring books, and crayons. We’ll make special golf carts equipped with mobile safe spaces so people can have a moment when they need it. It makes me want to have a conflict just thinking about it.

All of the above and I can’t get this eye-worm out of my head: a fat, WASP cop with years of experience on the force facing his locker day one after all these reforms are passed. He’s got to take his 60lb beer gut and wrap it in a stripper skirt, learn how to put on a bra correctly, and walk on stripper heels. Then spend ten hours in an electric tuk-tuk responding to calls looking like Divine.

It’s a repeating story. A group of dissidents invents a utopian vision. They conclude that the path to that vision must include abandoning everything that came before it. Scorched earth, start from nothing. American Church history has more than a few examples of utopian movements where the choice was to separate from the larger society and create a walled garden to live in rooted in the movement’s idea of a utopian life. Most of these utopian efforts failed. We still have the Hutterites, the Amish, the Mennonites, and others. To survive these have had to learn to coexist with the rest of the country.

Rinse Repeated

Antifa took over District 3 in Seattle and declared it to be an autonomous zone independent of our country. They invited some homeless people and banned the cops. The homeless people took all their food so now they are posting on Twitter that they need food. AntiFa failed to consider us, the outliers, and how we treat young romantics who believe they can do utopia better than their parents. These young romantics are prey.

Also in District 3 a local drug lord paid them a visit while they were painting graffiti on a building. He told them to stop, they would not, so he fought them and won.

There might be some cops who would suck it up and wear the drag outfit and patrol in an electric Tuk Tuk. A whole lot more would walk off the job and pay a visit to the gun store. Very soon after the cops are defunded the unintended consequences of anarchy will injure the people who thought this was a great idea. The cosplay drag queen cop shtick would be a growing non-starter.

Already, “defund the cops” is turning into “fund Democrat Party NGOs so we can get paid“. Blue states and blue municipalities are broke. They need a new hustle since Trump has been yanking the IV lines they’ve had that are supplied by hanging bags of Uncle Sam’s money.

A Nap Sounds Awesome

We are fine, America. The more asshat dissidents are losing so they are doing desperate things to stay in the headlines. The trend is away from them. The news got their traffic, politicians got their 15 minutes, and the rest of us realized we wanted to keep our jobs so we went home. When the asshats demanded more rioting we told them we wanted a nap.

These things have a cycle similar to the abuse cycle. Abuse cycle? Yes. Event, apology, depression, honeymoon, and tension building. The event happened so we are past that. We’ve been doing a lot of apology these last two weeks. People are accepting the apologies mostly. BLM and Antifa can’t because they are Shining Path and it’d be a carnal sin if they ever gave up the struggle. So next up is depression and honeymoon. Then we shall see.

–303–

Yellow Story

Posted on 9-June-20209-June-2020 by Alan Webb

I guess I’m not done writing about a core theme of this space. The core theme? That story both influences and reflects our behavior, “Rich people are stealing their wealth from peasants. Their history is a bloody stain on the peasants of the world. We have to erase rich people and their evil story.” So Richmond’s statue of Robert E. Lee has been covered in graffiti and the mayor has promised to take it down. We are ruled by yellow story.

My son said I should explain why I don’t want Confederate Monuments removed. I did that here. Part of our current problem is yellow story. To compete with social media traditional news outlets have returned to yellow journalism. The currency of modern journalism is fear and anger.

Next, some political organizations have adopted a strategy that relies on fear and anger to stay in power. They know that we are stupid when we are afraid or angry. We make choices we would never make if we had a moment to reflect and calm down.

Larga Vida el Sendero Luminoso

Then you have Sendero Luminosa, BLM, AntiFa and other communist revolutionary groups that root their identity in Marx, Lennin and Mao. All forms of communism and socialism are rooted in anger and fear. Communism can’t exist in a society where people are mostly happy. It has to have a warring populace who resent the others.

Nothing to do with Confederate Monuments, right? No, everything to do with these. For Senderistas to have their utopia they must destroy everything in the land. There cannot be anyone off-the-page with them. Nothing of the prior country can survive. So any monument that tells a story different from the orthodox narrative of Sendero Luminosa is evil and must be destroyed.

News Outlets love the story they get to tell when activists vandalize and destroy statues. CNN and other Senderista whores have spontaneous orgasms because they get traffic and their Sendero pimps give them likes. Political leaders get to show leadership without ever actually leading. These political whores get the power they seek through their Sendero Luminosa loyalty. Hot moans! Hot Moans! Get your Hot Moans HERE!

Yellow story. Chinese businessman sentenced who tried to sell military equipment to Sendero Luminoso — Sentencian a empresario chino que intentó vender equipo militar a Sendero Luminoso

¿No está muerto el Sendero Luminoso?

So, a brief interruption to this screed. Sendero Luminosa is dead, right? It is not. First, three years ago Sendero Luminosa snipers killed three cops in the Ene Apurimac Valley. Second, and relevant to this piece, the Shining Path is an evil vision of a post-apocalyptic paradise. It is paved with the blood and ground bones of its enemies. The Shining Path is a beloved story for some. You can kill the people, you can destroy everything that came before, but a loved story is immortal.

Rome fell, all the Ceasar’s died, Ovid’s poetry survived. Abimael Guzmàn is in prison convicted of terrorism and treason. Even so, it’s not over for Sendero Luminosa. It will never be over. That vision, that story will live on as long as least one person passes it on to their children. This is the problem with trying to remove the symbols of the confederacy. The Confederacy will live on in the hearts of those who remember after the symbols are gone.

This is the game for Sendero Luminosa and its fellow travelors: keep inventing issues that have emotional punch and are innate characteristics of our shit show world. Slogans like “No Justice, No Peace!” and “Fuck the Police” make great feels as you walk down Richmond’s Monument Avenue in solidarity with the cause. They rely on angst at universal truths about us to manufacture their issues.

In the Beginning

Stories of the fall from Eden are roughly 5,000 years old. So for at least 5,000 years we have had free will and the knowledge of good and evil. We know, we understand and yet some of us continue to do bad shit. Knowing that, senderistas will scream at us, “NEVER AGAIN!” Yeah, uhm, about that.

There has to be an antidote narrative. One that isn’t born out of a dystopian tantrum pimped by senderistas bent on bringing the second coming forth on a road paved with the ashes, blood, and bones of the past. There is a better narrative told by dissident Jews who follow a martyred Nazarene carpenter: the Way of Christ.

Marxism dates to 1847 when Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels began writing the Communist Manifesto. We’ve had more or less of it for the last 173 years. The push for a Marxist America is almost a century old. It hasn’t succeeded for this reason: its soil is made of hate. The American Left shrivels to ash where there is hope.

La Revolución de Cristo

Jesus was uncompromising, John 14:6 ESV, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.” This isn’t any less difficult, Matthew 19:21, “If you would be perfect, go, sell what you possess and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; and come, follow me.” Sounds kinda Marxist, doesn’t it? Just remember, Jesus was first.

There is one key difference between the Way of Jesus and the Shining Path. Like Judaism, the Way of Christ makes no sense if you don’t learn the history. Matthew 5:38-40 is absurd when read by Americans alive in 2020, “You have heard that it was said, ‘An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.’ ³⁹But I say to you, Do not resist the one who is evil. But if anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also. ⁴⁰And if anyone would sue you and take your tunic,^[a] let him have your cloak as well.”

Our way is to shoot the son-of-a-bitch. That quote sounds like we are saying we love sandpaper dildos shoved up our anus. If you know the history and a little bit about Jewish culture in the period it takes on a whole, much better meaning.

Every day is a zero-day for senderistas. Yesterday evaporates behind a veil of today’s orthodox news speak. It never speaks of victory, hope, or love. If it did, the struggle wouldn’t be real. They need the struggle to be real.

You Can’t Have Enough Art

So . . . back to the monuments. Instead of tearing them down, we need to fight with more art. We need a building on the land owned by VCU where Lumpkins Jail once stood. That building should be a lament that tells the story of what it did. Lumpkins Jail was the largest slaveholding facility in Richmond for twenty years. I’d like to see VCU, the City of Richmond, the Commonwealth, and the National Park Service collaborate on a design for a building that tells Richmond’s story as one corner of a slave triangle that included Nigeria and England. It won’t happen because our current leadership is loyal to the Shining Path and ashamed of Robert Lumpkin.

Monument Avenue needs more art. Senderistas focus their story on the most angering narratives of African American History so they can move the ball on their post-apocalypse Peasant Utopia. The bitter past is only a small part of the African American story. Senderistas don’t want you to remember that history. They foment a yellow story of every day being a zero-day begun with a recitation of white cracker sin. We can win against them simply by remembering the rest of the story. I want more sculpture on Monument Avenue, not less.

I trust the arts community in Richmond to come up with sculpture for Monument Avenue that tells a fuller picture of African American History. Tell all of it, the bitter sin and the victories.

El Camino del Amor

Where Senderistas foment hate in furtherance of the struggle, Jesus spoke of love evangelizing his kingdom. The story of Christ is a story of love infecting power and winning. Marx hated Christ. His way of life called religion an opiate of the masses. Christians defied slave masters fighting to prevent slaves from learning to read by giving bibles and reading lessons. We insinuated our way of life into the hearts of African slaves and became part of their blood.

The Sendero Luminosa can’t further their revolution without destroying the church. A large part of African American History is absurd unless you understand its relationship to Christ. It’s not a coinkidink that churches are being attacked by BLM and Antifa. So much American music is born of slave work songs and black gospel. Elvis and Nick Jagger sang race music early in their career. N.W.A’s lineage traces straight back to the plantations of the antebellum South. This heritage can’t be told if the Senderistas are to succeed. The story of triumphant African American art has to die so a bitter Sendero Luminosa narrative can replace it.

Choose. Devote yourself to an abusive, violent, and hateful god-king who promises to be your Sugar Daddy and delivers bruises and bleeding or to a no-account carpenter from Nazareth who got himself crucified for speaking truth to the Jews. Plenty still genuflect before their home temple to Guzmàn, Mao, and Lenin hoping these will succor every whim. My friends and I follow the Way of Christ. For over 2,000 years we keep quietly winning.

Fake Virtue

Posted on 6-June-202029-June-2020 by Alan Webb

Fucking hell. Facebook is full of angsty posts from well-meaning friends trying to say something that proves they are not white privileged racists. I can’t do Facebook with all the fake virtue signaling showing up in my feed.

Two things. First, I am a white privileged racist. Why? I was born this way. My hateful adjectives: white, Anglo-Saxon, Protestant, from upper-middle-class parents, boomer, old & bougie. My intersectionality score is 5. So eight adjectives that make me hateful. Next, Black Lives Don’t Matter to BLM.

My son has joined the fake virtue crowd and started posting helpful suggestions for the rioters on ways they can protect themselves from evil police. He’s decided he needs to belong to the cool kids. This means he worries about his halo. It has to be the right shade of blue and have the right flair pins on it so his personal brand makes the right signals.

Iron Sights Matter

Black lives don’t matter to the organization that titled their organization, Black Lives Matter. Why? Because the goals of BLM don’t include advancing the enfranchisement and freedom of blacks. Instead, BLM seeks a Cultural Revolution that destroys the country to rebuild it in their Sendero Luminoso image. African American enfranchisement and freedom are collateral damage. The “What We Believe” page of Black Lives matter is a laundry list of utopian ideas straight from Sendero Luminosa.

To achieve this utopia, Constitutional Republicanism and Capitalism must be destroyed. All the troubles experienced by the peasantry can be traced to the bourgeoisie. Bougie folk are anyone who isn’t black. Also, blacks who oppose Black Lives Matter. And black folk who have jobs, pay their bills on time, and a net worth that will mean a comfortable retirement. All that and anyone else in the iron sights of BLM.

You are either 100% devoted to the Shining Path or you are dead. Central to the Shining Path is a core belief that people are divided into peasantry (good) and bourgeoisie (bad). White people are bourgeoisie on their face. I’m white, so I’m bad. I was born this way, get used to it.

My Original Sin

Because I am a WASP, BLM will tell me that I have subconscious racism. These people don’t know me and yet they claim that I hate black people. What do I say? If you agree that I am racist simply because of a few adjectives that describe me, fuck you.

Too many on social media are trying to placate a small, abusive minority intent on destroying Washington D.C., destroying our government, and initiating a Maoist Dynasty. These well-meaning sheeple are busy polishing their online brand with fake virtue so BLM leaves them alone. This isn’t about George Floyd’s death. This is civil war by people bent on revolution. My son thinks he’s being compassionate by suggesting ways for his friends to protect themselves from the cops during a protest. He is a fucking idiot.

The easiest way to stay safe in a riot is don’t riot. My son could volunteer at United Way. There is also the Greater Boston Food Bank. Third, the Boston Rescue Mission. Volunteering doesn’t properly show your support for Black Lives. It’s hard work and nobody cares that you do it. So he won’t do it. Because selfless, chosen misery doesn’t fit the narrative.

Sendero Luminoso dice: “Practicamos la aniquilación selectiva de alcaldes y funcionarios gubernamentales, por ejemplo, para crear un vacío, luego lo llenamos. A medida que avanza la guerra popular, la paz está más cerca”.

The Narrative Matters

Son, you have been taught a narrative that foments hate. Your schools and peers tell you that the reason you are oppressed is me. Fat, old, white bastard father. I have privilege I don’t deserve. If I was a good father I’d steal a shopping cart and put a few clothes in it then ship to you everything I own. Matthew 19:21, Jesus said to him, “If you would be perfect, go, sell what you possess and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; and come, follow me.”

The problem is evil in the hearts of those who follow Sendero Luminosa. For the proletariat to be victorious the bourgeoisie must be vanquished. Funny, though, as the bodies fill mass graves the supply of bourgeoisie doesn’t diminish. There is always one more who has a bit more ability than the proletariat.

The cops are not the enemy. The enemy is within anyone that has chosen Sendero Luminosa as their way of life. They are their own enemy because they live a story that foments hate. My son believes he is doing the right thing telling his friends how to be safe while protesting.

Jesus Is the Way

I’m not a Sendero. I am a Christian. The Way of Christ is a splinter group of dissident Jews that worship a martyred carpenter from Nazareth. We are a revolution that has changed the world for 2,000 years. Add being Presbyterian to the prior list of eight reasons why I am worth of hate. Christ told us that we are in this world but we are not of this world. We are judged by God, not by a social credit score that rises and falls with the changing news speak each hour.

I owe no one an obligation to prove that my halo is proper. TBH, my halo is in a pawn shop in Hades. I hocked it to pay for gas so I could go to work. The pawnbroker gave me $5.00 for it out of sympathy then sold it to a gym owner. You won’t see me writing long, passionate apologies to Sendero Luminosa who insists that I say something to ameliorate their fury.

I don’t want my son to experience jail for the first time because a senderista told him he could be more popular if he’d throw a brick. Posting ideas for body armor on Facebook is tantamount to throwing that brick. There is no middle with Sendero Luminosa. Dithering around the edges just gets you a punch in the face from a senderista you thought was your friend. So my son must find a brick to throw or accept a punch in the face.

Sheeple Way to Fake Virtue

His way to thread the needle is to post memes on social media signaling his support for the cause. This just makes him sheeple. He says I am sheeple because I won’t genuflect before a home temple to Abimael Guzmán. I signal Christ and that’s just wrong. I’m supposed to signal the orthodox virtue of the day after watching CNN’s, “New Day”. Not gonna happen.

My son is a good guy. He’s got a job at a credit union as a teller. He’s building an adult life after a childhood with some fucked up parents. His Mom was abusive. His Dad was absent. He’s half white and half Taiwanese. So he’s stuck in the middle with no clear racial identity. Is he peasantry or bougie?

My son the prince was born in Oakland, CA. He spent his first seven years living in Oakland and San Pablo, CA. We moved to Richmond, VA in 2001. He finished his youth living in Richmond, VA. This is important because he has a classic public education. He was taught that American History is a history of bitterness and racism. He went to church with his Mom. So he’s had an education in Christian basics from a Chinese Baptist Church.

Prince Egg

雞蛋王子 is thrice screwed. His father is a WASP and therefore innately racist. His mother is Taiwanese. Not even Chinese Chinese, but Nationalist Chinese. The Taiwanese government is Democratic and Nationalist–two hateful things for the Sendero Luminosa. Third, he’s so bougie. 雞蛋王子, thus, is showing support for a Sendero Luminosa affiliate group that hates him.

He works at a credit union as a bank teller. In addition to being the wrong kind of Chinese and his original sin inherited from his father, he sold out to a bank. His idea of being oppressed is discovering that Starbucks is out coconut milk for their Iced Pineapple Matcha frappe. tbh, the struggle is real.

Yet he would be wounded if he was told this truth: BLM hates him because he isn’t a peasant. He’s got no virtue-signal from his Mom to help this. She’s a food chemist with a Bachelor’s of Science from a prominent Taiwanese University. That’s bougie. Not good for my son.

The protestors in Hong Kong were fighting against a Maoist government for democracy. The Seattle protesters are Sendero Luminosa affiliates fighting against our constitutional republic and capitalism. Their end game is a 革命勝利之光 (Sendero Luminosa Revolutionary Victory). The Seattle protesters are fighting for what the Hong Kong protesters oppose. The prince is on the side of the Sendero Luminosa. Woo.

BLM Hates Bougie Blacks

Black lives don’t matter for BLM because their goals are the destruction of anything in the way of their revolutionary victory, blacks included. They believe that the extant government and culture must be destroyed before a Sendero Luminosa Revolution can replace it. Everything must go. Including music, dance, theater, sculpture, story, any evidence of something prior to the Revolution. You better not get in the way of this. If you do you’ll learn exactly how much you matter to BLM.

Black Lives Matter started from a lie about the death of Trayvon Martin. Since then they have traded in hate for every death by cop experienced by a black man. The claim is that black men are being killed disproportionately by white cops. Another lovely, emotional generality that has some exceptions.

耶穌基督的道路

The Jesus thing. You can’t be a disciple of Jesus of Nazareth and be a racist. We’ll start with the beatitudes in Matthew 5-6. Next is Luke 6:31 (ESV), “And as you wish that others would do to you, do so to them.” Or, for the youngins, treat others as you wish to be treated. BLM and similar Shining Path organizations want us to treat them as they wish to be treated. There is no obligation on their part to treat bougie folk as they wish to be treated. Bougie folk are fair game.

I am a disciple of Jesus of Nazareth. Yet because I am a WASP my racism is endemic. It’s in my birth to my father and his ancestors. Never mind that I have followed Christ to one degree or another my whole life. My story doesn’t matter because I am bougie. I have to somehow live in a manner pleasing to BLM because of my heritage.

We have to defeat this. Sendero Luminosa and BLM are evil. They are founded on hate that burns within the souls of their disciples. This isn’t something that can be reasoned with or placated. It has to be defeated. I pray my son lives long enough to learn this. He’s allied himself with haters.

At 300 BoGo Left

Posted on 2-June-20202-June-2020 by Alan Webb

This is not what I wanted my 300th post to be about, “at 300 BoGo Left”. 300 blog posts is an accomplishment. Then my risk-averse friend asked me to look at a news story from San Jose, CA.

https://www.ktvu.com/news/police-arrest-suspect-accused-of-running-over-two-san-jose-protesters

George Floyd has pushed COVID-19 out of the headlines. Floyd died under the knee of Derek Chauvin. Chauvin had his knee on Floyd’s neck for almost 10 minutes. Another man died while in contact with the cops.

Then the protests in Minneapolis turned violent. Protests erupted across the country. Because stealing Cheetos from CVS is righteous. Today I learn that the protests are happening around the world. https://www.cnn.com/2020/06/01/world/george-floyd-global-protests-intl/index.html Woo.

Where is God?

You hear, “Where is God?” in the video that starts this post. God is there. He’s just not the Big Lebowski.

Boomers have a god. He’s a drag queen named BoGo, short for Boomer God. S/he checks off all the boxes on the intersectionality scale. Brown, some blend of African-American and Latinx, gay (lesbian?), living in public housing, no legitimate employment, and collecting TANF and stamps. BoGo is an indulgent sugar daddy who will help us fight, fuck, eat, and drink to our heart’s content while preventing any negative consequences from our debauchery. BoGo was there in San Jose last Friday.

I have so much good happening in my life right now. Writing about yungins wrecking the city they live in isn’t something I want as my 300th blog post. Yet here we are in RVA, under curfew with blackened store fronts and police in riot gear chasing protesters out of Monroe Park. A woman in San Jose has been arrested for attempted murder. Woo.

I’ll get to the good stuff in my life deeper into this post. And more about God. The next thing is that these riots are only nominally about George Floyd. Floyd’s murder is just the trigger. The tension has been building for the last twelve weeks.

We Have Needs

Maslow's Heirarchy of Needs, at 300 BoGo Left

The heat for this began in March when we were asked to quarantine ourselves. Young men need things. They need food, jobs, sex, respect, and a sense that they are making an impact. Youngins hunger for significance. We took all that away just as Spring was blossoming. The youngins were told that they had to stay inside, study online, tolerate the parents and their fucking annoying siblings, and like it.

I’m sure most did. We’ll never hear about the normies that behaved. It’s good that the normies are not news. We need the normies. The news and I write about edge cases. We write about folk who worship BoGo and Mao.

Where is God when the city erupts in violence because a cop killed a black man? Why can’t God intervene and George Floyd live? If God is a Loving God, why does this shit keep happening?

Shits Been Happening

I have bad news. More bad shit will happen. We live in Satan’s paradise. Our world is the devil’s playground. St. Lucifer is a predator who eats our souls. Bad shit happens because we abuse our free will.

Welcome to the Shit Show. Settle in because this is a century long ride featuring unending misery. The latest insult is a worldwide panic attack in response to COVID-19. We told everyone to stay inside. It’s not gone well.

With an empire as big as ours it’s a matter of time before another black man has deadly contact with the cops. Yet every time we are screamed at, “NEVER AGAIN!” Ok. Good luck with that. Get back to me when you figure out how to get 380,000,000 people to 100% behave the way you want them to in perpetuity. “NEVER AGAIN!” feels great when we are pissed off. It’s just not possible in the shit show we live in. Sorry, but BoGo lied to you.

So is God Dead? No. BoGo is a god for children. Father God is a god for grownups. The rioters believe in BoGo, not Father God. They believe in a buffet faith built out of Maoism and BoGo. Maoism teaches us to be angry at what we can’t change. Mao tells us that our misery is perpetrated by the bourgeoisie. So bougie folk are fair game. BoGo teaches that the Seven Deadly Sins are a task to accomplish and s/he’ll protect us from our debauchery. Followers of Mao and BoGo are on the menu for St. Lucifer.

Plus Two

The two people who were hurt by the car could have been killed. Thank God that they lived. The crowd wanted that car to stay put so they could sate their blood lust. Thank God the woman was able to escape.

Which isn’t what the news will tell us. The news will bend the story around so it fits this narrative, “a white supremacist viciously murdered two brown people by slamming his car into a crowd of protesters.” Hannah Graham’s murder will be invoked. The truth will be a bit more complex.

Since we are in the Shit Show as featured players, what to do? There are Recovery Fellowship meetings 24/7/365 filled with people who worshiped BoGo. BoGo worship gets you a repeating cycle of jail, hospital, rehab until you either die or stay in recovery. Giving your life to Christ gets you early escalated misery that pays off down the road.

Consequential Choices

We have a choice. No, you can’t opt out of the Shit Show. You are here. It’s the world you were born into. We can choose how we live in the Shit Show. God’s creation includes free will as a core principle. The rioters in San Jose chose violence and prayed to BoGo for protection. BoGo failed them. God did not fail them.

Choices have consequences. Terrifying a Latinx driving her SUV through a crowd of protesters has consequences. Driving an SUV through a blood-lusting crowd of rioters has consequences. Followers of BoGo pray to be protected from their choices. BoGo provides, so it goes. Then two people get run over and a man can be heard in the video asking, “where is God?”

God is where he always is. His resurrected kingdom lives in the hearts of His followers. The Way of Christ is a 2,000-year-old revolution that infested the Roman Empire. It was started by a dissident, no-account Jew carpenter born in Bethlehem. Jesus of Nazareth was martyred on a cross between two other convicted criminals. Over a century later Constantine gave a deathbed confession after a life-supporting Christians.

The Kingdom of Christ

2,000 years later Christianity is one of the world’s dominant religions. The Roman Empire fell in 476 AD, nearly 140 years after Constantine’s confession. My speculation but the spread of Christianity through the Empire had an impact. These days, the Extra Enlightened Woke worship Mao and BoGo. So, how is that going for you, EEW’s?

Enough pissing in the wind about things I can’t change. Some people are Devil’s Food cake. The world is a shit show. Bad shit happens too often. That’s three things I can’t change. Let’s talk about things I have changed.

Transit Webb car

Resurrected

I became a saved Christian when I was 14. That was 1973. The same year a schism arose in the Presbyterian Church in America. It wasn’t enough for my non-denominational friends that I was baptized Presbyterian. I’m a good kid who wants to get along with his peers. So if that means renouncing my Presbyterian baptism for a Pentecostal, Non-Denominational youth fellowship, put me down.

Jesus appeared to me for the first time in Summer Camp that year. He told me to go home. I thought he meant go home to my parents. It wasn’t until I was in my twenties searching for answers that I understood he meant going home to the Presbyterian Church.

I was living in Berkeley, CA at the time. It was another of my moaning, panicked moments when I thought everything was over. I was done. My Non-Denominational Friends had platitudes for me when I raised questions like, “if God is a loving God, why is my life so miserable?” I loved BoGo. BoGo was going to provide me every bit of the Seven Deadly Sins. Jesus had other plans.

Non-Denominational Friends?

The NDF’s didn’t like questions. They’d chant John 3:16 in panicked cadence whenever I asked about predestiny. If I suggested that God was Dead they’d go all holy roller on me, flop on the floor and sputter, “Will the Circle Be Unbroken“. Doubt made them nervous.

I thought maybe BoGo had better answers. BoGo definitely had the best weed. BoGo’s followers, though, sounded a lot like the NDF’s. They didn’t like questions. When I asked about history they’d foam at the mouth, flop on the floor and mutter quotes from Nietzsche. What to do?

I’m Presbyterian through and through. My Dad met my Mom at a youth fellowship at the First Presbyterian Church of Haddonfield. I went to Sunday School every Sunday against my will for the first 13 years of my life. Jesus has a way of infecting your heart. He got me good at Summer Camp in 1973.

By BoGo’s Way

It’s 1984. I’ve just started as a member of Berkeley’s Taxi Unlimited. Most of the collective followed BoGo and Mao. It was annoying to see another collective member have a seizure because I asked about God. The closest Presbyterian Church was an easy walk from Blake Street. Earl Palmer was preaching.

Reverend Palmer, I’m another of your saved souls. After the sermon I managed to squeeze in a question about predestiny and your eyes lit up. You asked me to meet you in your office later that week. Here was a minister who didn’t flip out when questioned. My kind of minister.

So . . . all good, right? No. I had a lot to work through before I could give a confession of faith. I joined the First Presbyterian Church of Berkeley because I wanted to begin a quest for truth. Somebody had answers and this church felt like a good place to start.

Quest for Truth

I’m still on that quest for truth. I’ve learned a lot since 1985. First on my mind these days is the need to begin with mercy and grace. Next is to evangelize by missions and service. The third is to pray and tithe.

Whatever. Right? Kind of. We have youth who we made desperate by stopping the economy in the name of flattening the exponential curve of COVID-19. The tension has been building for twelve weeks. It just needed a trigger. George Floyd’s death is that trigger. God was there in Minneapolis.

He was also there in San Jose as rioters threw rocks and bricks at an SUV driven by a LatinX. It could have been worse. I pray the virus of the Holy Spirit infests some of the rioters. May some of the rioters question the truth BoGo and Mao taught them. Maybe some will go to their first meeting. I pray this in the name of Jesus.

God is Only a Prayer Away

God is only a prayer away. He is there if you ask. I’m not the usual guy to give the altar call. We need that today. We need those who worship BoGo and Mao to come to Jesus. Jesus is the Way, the Truth, and the Life Everlasting.

Here we go: if today is your day, the day when you are ready to give your life to Christ, then start with this prayer of confession, “Dear God, I want to be a part of your family. I accept Jesus as my personal Lord and Savior. I accept my salvation from sin through your death and resurrection on Calvary.” There is also the Nicene Creed if you want to go deeper.

Many will tell you that everything is a blessing from here. Hardly. The early days of this are going to suck. Your heart isn’t used to the searing heat of the Holy Spirit as He burns sin out of your life. Don’t go it alone. St. Lucifer and BoGo are going to be pissed that you are now apostate. You escaped the slaughterhouse and that’s a problem.

There is Strength in Fellowship

Find a church. Engage with that church. Start your quest for truth. Surrender the things you can’t change, change the things you can, and let Jesus show you the difference. Last, welcome to the fam.

This post is number 300. At 300 BoGo left. God showed up. He’s been showing up for me since 1973. I lost my job at Altria almost 21 months ago as of this writing. It’s not been honey and roses on this pilgrimage toward heaven. It’s been shit most of the way.

I can bitch with the best of them. I’ve got plenty that didn’t go well. Yet here I am, sixty years old and grateful for what God has blessed me with. BoGo is badass but Jesus is better. Jesus is the Way.

The Good News

I own Baugh Holding Company. BHC owns Transit Webb and Arts Fire. Transit Webb is my ride-share business. I work with Uber and Lyft to get people from A to B. Transit Webb pays the bills while I figure out how to expand. Arts Fire is an artist management company that manages me. One day it’ll manage more than me. This guy, this near-do-well who keeps getting fired is a small-business owner.

Some of my first world luxuries:

A rented two-bedroom, single-family home
Two cars, a 2019 Ford Flex and a 2013 Subaru Legacy
A Lenovo T-Series laptop, Lenovo Tab 4 Android tablet, and a Motorola G7 smartphone
An HP A-I-O laser printer.
The house is furnished
The lights are on and I have running water
I have food in my fridge.

That’s seven. That’s enough. There is a lot more but a fuller list doesn’t strengthen my point. My monthly cash burn is about $3,500.00. For the majority of the world that lives on about $2.00/day it would take them almost five years to earn what I spend in a month. I’m poor by the standards of my heritage.

Some Shit Show Truth

George Floyd is dead. Derek Chauvin is in jail. BoGo failed the protesters in San Jose and other places. Turns out the choice to tear up a city can get you hurt. We will work through the criminal justice process for Chauvin, Thao, Keung, and Lane. There is almost universal consensus that Floyd’s murder was wrong. It still doesn’t excuse an orgasm of violence perpetrated in our communities. More violence won’t bring Floyd back from the dead. Bogo sucks.

Post 300 is an inflection point for me. There is a lot more good on my horizon. Around me is a lot more shit show. The easy thing is to get triggered by the shit show and immolate. I’m too old for that rage against the machine. So I live on to write post 301 and more until Jesus calls me home.

COVID-19, Floyd, and other Shit Show? Nothing lasts forever. We’ll be fine. Things you can do are here. Do the Jesus Way. It’s better than the BoGo Way.

Wuhan Kung Flu

Posted on 18-May-202019-May-2020 by Alan Webb

Let’s stop dancing around the elephant in the room. It’s the Wuhan Flu (武漢流行性感冒). Actually . . . it’s the Wuhan Kung Flu. SARS COVID-19 is a novel SARS virus similar to the Spanish Flu. As time goes on it seems that it is very, very highly infectious but about as deadly as the seasonal flu we get every year. The deadly thing isn’t the virus. It is our collective freak-out over the Wuhan Kung Flu.

There are two illnesses afoot in our country. One is Wuhan Kung Flu. The other is a collective panic attack yeasted up by media celebrities and Maoist Yellow True Believers who saw the tea leaves and decided that this is their moment. These YTB’s happily get naked and flop onto the couch with their legs akimbo for a GFE with the Chinese Communist Party.

Obummer and the Debaclecrats used their 8 years to sell our country to anyone with enough money. The Chinese, ever enterprising, wooed the Sowshul Demutants with promises of a dynasty and epic wealth. We are the drug sick crack-whore willing to fuck for a $10.00 piece.

Wuhan Kung Flu Sauce for Your Laptop?

Name a laptop that isn’t made in China. My Lenovo t480s that I bought last year was made in 深圳. Ditto my phone and tablet. Very little is made in this country anymore. Smithfield Country Hams? Chinese. Even critical technology in the F35 fighter is made in China. Last, we owe $1.09 Trillion to China.

Whatever. Right? Not even. When China coughs, we get sick. One theory floating out there is that the Wuhan Kung Flu is a virus hatched under Chinese research contract managed by none other than Dr. Anthony Fauci. Fauci and the Obama Administration paid the lab in Wuhan to work on a novel SARS virus that they could in turn, figure out how to treat. Ok, fine.

Problem. That virus escaped the lab in Wuhan. It’s in our world now making people sick. Dr. Fauci, if this theory is true, you fucked up.

We thought China was our whore. Since 1972 we have been in bed with a country we thought was a nubile, docile exotic flower. That country is a war dragon playing the long game. She’s good with a little bed time because she knows the power of sex, money and fear.

Not Yet Up

Rock bottom is a thing. I don’t know if we are there yet. We are close. China is revealing her true nature as a dragon queen with a taste for ‘merican meat. Orange Menace’s opposition is losing. And it seems that the Lotus Flower we thought was our bitch played us.

We are her bitch. The Dragon Queen owns us. Yes, this connects to Wuhan Kung Flu. I’m about to get to that. You can tell who has Chinese hemorrhoids by the propaganda they publish. The true believers are the ones with the most shrill, dystopian tantrums blaming everyone except the Chinese.

This is an apocalyptic, end of the world health crisis say the Yellow True Believers (YTB’s). Their answer? Maoism. We need a fundamental change to our society. A Cultural Revolution will cure us of Wuhan Kung Flu and save us from our sinful ways.

True Belief

Obama’s Administration further embedded a seditious cadre of Maoists and صحيح المؤمنين الإسلام within the White House. With Billary in the Oval Orifice the road to الجنة would be improved. This is part of a long term plan to make America Maoist Again (MAMA). After all, Mao is the one true way to a perfect world. Anyone who doesn’t see that needs reeducation.

The YTB’s lost a crucial battle when their attempted coup d’etat of Donald Trump turned into a limp dick dystopian tantrum that was full of sound and fury and signified nothing. Nothing Orange Shitweasel has been accused of has stuck. Quite the contrary. Most of the accusations turn out to be things that the Democrats did.

It is a familiar political play that has been invincible for decades. Convict someone in the court of public opinion and leverage that conviction into political death. One problem: Dumpf fights. This is not how it has worked for the YTB’s. They don’t have a counter strategy for someone who answers their accusations with political blows.

Enough specious political theory. I want to move on to our collective freak-out. We were told in February that this was the arrival of the Day of Judgement. The excesses of the ‘Mericans would be called to account and the final judgement pronounced on a corrupt system that profited the rich and oppressed the proletariat. This would be to the glory of Mao.

Shut It Down

The answer was to shut down the country, cower in our homes, stay at least six feet away from each other at all times, wear a face mask 247365, and wait until the YTB’s had burned Washington D.C. to purify it of it’s capitalist excesses. In exchange, the YTB’s claim they’ll pay for everything. This might work in a country that has a long history of imperialism. ‘Merica is a country of dissidents. We don’t comply in the good times. Making us panic makes us even more ornery.

Panic attacks have a cycle. Our reptile brains scream at us to either fight or flee during the attack. That’s where we are today. Soon, though, comes depression as all that adrenaline and dopamine exhausts itself and the thing we want most is sleep. Maybe peanut butter and banana sandwiches. And beer, definitely beer.

A noisy minority of our leaders and media celebrities want the attack to continue for as long as possible. They know that in the heat of our aroused state we’ll say yes to damn near any crazy idea if it will help us calm down. Free shit? Sure. Bigger, more authoritarian rule? Yeah, if it makes us safer.

Mama Knows Best

Various mayors and governors have showed their true colors as Maoist Yellow True Believers (YTB). As we start to venture out of our homes these brokers of anxiety have escalated demands that we stay in our homes in the name of public safety. These wanna-be barons insist that non-essential businesses stay shut down. “Essential” seems to mean, “contributed to my campaign.” These mayors and governors have a narrative they are sticking to.

There have been multiple, conflicting narratives about Wuhan Kung Flu. One is that this is our fault as the seat of the Evil Capitalist Empire. We did this and we should genuflect before Mao while asking for His mercy and forgiveness. Another is that this is a serious crisis but it’s been exploited by YTB’s who believe this is their moment in history to rise to their rightful seat of power. My favorite is that this is an alien virus released by the Illuminati to make us amenable to mind control by Google’s DeepMind AI.

So we get a range of responses. Some of my customers worry about me, about my car, about what sort of evil festers back there where about 20 people a day sit for 15 minutes or so while I drive them to their destination. They come armed with hand sanitizer and Lysol spray ready to do battle with the capitalist demons laying in wait for them.

Just a Ten Piece

One of them didn’t last more than two minutes eight weeks ago before asking me to stop the car and he got out. As he exited the door his words were, “this car is infecting my brain. I hate your sinful capitalist ways! You need to come to Mao and put copies of the Little Red Book in the seat pockets back here.” The problem? I didn’t want him spraying the seats with Lysol. Also, I wasn’t’ wearing a mask. Yeah . . . I’ll get right on that.

My dysfunctional customers are just happy that the voices in their heads are quiet enough to get through the ride. They don’t wear masks and chat with me about the Illuminati implanting an AI in Salmon Voldemort’s brain. For the last couple months I haven’t seen much of the dutiful YTB’s. I’ve made money giving rides to my other customer base: the crazies and criminals. It’s made me nostalgic for 1980’s Oakland, CA Friendly Cab.

At some point even the most devout YTB’s are going to have to come out of the house. All this social distancing stuff has become a farce. It’s simply not possible to shop in a grocery store and stay six feet away from everyone. Masks are another farce. People wear masks incorrectly. The variety of face coverings is emblematic of attitudes towards Kung Flu. You see noses peaking over the top of Harley Davidson handkerchiefs tied around the face. I see people evaluating the crowd coming toward them in the store or on the street and raising or lowering the mask based on their level of anxiety.

Iterate

What’s coming is an emotional crash after an anxiety attack like the one we experienced. To recover we’ll want to shut down. This means that the number of folk who stop giving a fuck will outnumber those praying to Mao in their living rooms. There will be propaganda in the press telling us what sinful people we are and that the answer is to double down on the Cultural Revolution. Some will but more won’t. And the YTB’s will find themselves becoming a topic of snarky meme’s gone viral.

After a fight there is depression, apology, honeymoon and rinse, repeat. “Plus les choses changent, plus elles restent les mêmes.” We are still in the fight so ahead of us is depression. I don’t think we will see an apology because neither BuyDem or Twitler do that. The YTB’s will move the ball and scream about the next perceived dystopian nightmare. They are losing the messaging game so their future is as an amusing reason to waste mass storage on the cloud.

So much of what folk do and feel about Kung Flu has to do with their attitude towards risk and misery. Folk who lean choleric or melancholy resonate with the YTB’s. Marxism and Maoism are angry political philosophies. Being a successful Maoist means being pissed off at an ephemeral enemy that is the reason for one’s misery. It is that ephemeral enemy that must change so the Maoist YTB can feel good. These are the ones still cowering in their safe spaces inside their homes. The ones with eight weeks of delivery containers from their favorite takeout places still piled up around the trash can(s) inside the house.

Life Goes On

The other half, the phlegmatic and sanguine folk, are going about their lives. Some do the needful, some don’t. Our Guvna KnawThem’s dictates fall on their deaf ears. In my neighborhood the smoke from BBQ grills is part one of a two part proscription for Wuhan Kung Flu. Part 2 is beer. The resulting symptom is a drunken sermon on the front lawn accompanied by Spotify’s RapCaviar.

I can’t resist a little preaching. Our institutions are failing us. It’s going to get worse. We’ll have to rely on kin, friends and neighbors. If you don’t already own the land you live on now would be a good time to buy. Start a garden or expand the one you have. If your municipality will let you have chickens, rabbits and maybe a goat, you need those. Spend some time at the gun range so you can hit what you are aiming at. Yes, own a gun. Own something to defend yourself and something you can hunt with. Join a church or something like the Rotary Club.

Start bartering with people so you don’t rely entirely on cash or credit to acquire what you need. Get out of debt except for your mortgage. Keep a supply of water and food sufficient to keep yourself and your kin fed for a month, longer if you can. For more on this, Survival Sullivan.

Mountain People Playing Music Wuhan Kung Flu

That’s enough. Kung Flu isn’t going to kill us all. And the Yellow True Believers don’t know it yet but they are becoming a joke. China? I won’t be surprised if we end up in a war with the dragon we thought was our bitch.