Really Racist?

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.

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Fake Virtue

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.

Fake Virtue Broken Halo

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.

Fake Virtue PuYi

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.

Fake Virtue Riot Gear

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.

Fake Virtue Black Lives Matter

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.

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You Are A Racist!

Yeah, again again, “You are a racist!” spat at me with derision. All because I own merchandise from Black Rifle Coffee and voted for Cheeto Satan. It doesn’t help that I can trace my whiteness back through Plymouth and Jamestown to England. I am Presbyterian. Oh, it’s worse. I am a covenant partner with the Evangelical Covenant Order of Presbyterians. If you don’t know, sorry, but ECO is bad says PCUSA. Also, I am a cisgender man, another evil adjective and another reason to hate me.

I’m not done. I beat my Taiwanese wife repeatedly over seven years of marriage. So in addition to my WASP evils, I am also an abuser of a woman of color, a mortal sin of the worst sort. Let’s add a couple more: I voted for Trump, own a MAGA hat, and like guns.

Despicable enough for you? Here is where I am going with this. My family has been loyal Democratic voters for at least a century. We are socialists when it is impolite to say we are communists. TBH, we are Stalinist or Maoist. At least, that’s what PUDFARB will tell you.

You Can’t Leave

PUDFARB wants me back so they can convict me of a couple of felonies. The first is leaving PUDFARB. You can’t leave PUDFARB. Ever. If you were born there you must stay. If you visited there even for a moment, forever after a repatriation squad is assigned to you. They want you back.

My family is from PUDFARB. My Dad left, married my Mom, raised four kids, had a career designing power systems for radios and radar, and went home to Jesus last year. There is some history with our family leaving PUDFARB. His Mom never forgave him for his career with RCA designing weapons. It was great news when I announced I was taking a bus to my Grandma’s house at age 19. The prodigal son returns. For a while.

The second felony happened slowly. I joined St. Giles Church. St. Giles is odd for the Puritan strains of Presbyterianism. They speak in tongues. They hold prayer meetings where people get healed. There is a lot of Holy Spirit stuff happening there. Terribly evil, PUDFARB says. I love it and that’s the thing. Last I heard I’d been convicted in absentia and I’m being sought so I can serve my time in a reeducation camp.

Why I Live in Richmond

Lately, some of my friends have said that I have to choose. I must either spew invective at our President with sufficient fervor or accept that I am the lowliest of low minions living under the hoof of Satan at the deepest circles of hell. For my family and for these friends there are only two kinds of people: loyal Democrats and traitors. It’s hard to keep a reputation as a loyal Democrat. There are legion venial sins that lay in wait like tiny devils to trip you up and stain you a bit redder. It’s exhausting.

Also, I get pissy when backed into a corner and threatened with damage if I don’t comply with a demand to demonstrate my virtuous fielty to PUDFARB. Trump may be many things, but at least those loyal to him are not constantly evaluating minuscule details of my life to see whether they are المؤمنين للشريعة. I’ll take my chances living in Richmond as a traitor.

Life here is nice. I can grill a venison steak and serve it with GMO potatoes and the only comments I get are, “good steak”. I don’t’ have to spend a half-hour describing how the Buck was raised, whether it was killed Halal, or what it ate before it was killed. The potatoes? Forget about it.

Still a Wife Beating Racist

I’m repeating myself. Among my church friends and around those who lean right it’s no never mind whether I chose paper or plastic at the checkout line. When I try to blubber about being such a miserable wretch with so horrid a list of evil adjectives they let me finish and reply with, “Well, bless your heart.” It’s a much simpler life without the buzzing gnats of micro-angst biting at my balding skull.

When I tell the story of my abuse of my Taiwanese wife more than a few said, “she probably deserved it.” Those are horrid words to a member of PUDFARB. The guy that said it was out on parole for felony distribution of a controlled substance.

My kin and PUDFARB friends say pretty words about inclusivity and diversity. These words are bullshit. Here is who is included: disciples of Mao and Mohamed that memorized 毛的小紅書 and القران الكريم, are a person of color, are more than a little LGBTQ, poor AF, older, disabled, speak English as a second language, born elsewhere, and less educated. The through-line is anyone who is Maoist and Muslim with one or more attributes putting you into the proletariat side of the scale. If you are all of the above, your score can approach 97.

At the Intersection of Fear and Loathing

Another through-line for those included is a core belief in being oppressed by some other. The misery of those included is caused by some other, it’s not their fault. It is the other that has to change in an amenable way. To be included is to be a victim.

My intersectionality score? 5. I am all the bad things wrong with the world. I’m too old and mean to give a fuck about my low score, you and your misery. I don’t want the power over your life that you assign to me. It’s your poison you keep drinking with the expectation that I’ll get better. The bad news is, the older I get the meaner I get. You can’t fix me.

Go Fix Yourself

I voted Trump and count Republicans as friends because life is so much calmer with them. There are manners. People are more gracious. At PUDFARB every moment is fraught with tension. At any moment I could overstep some unspoken rule and find myself facing outrage, claims of abuse and violence and demands that I face a tribunal. In Richmond at most I might get, “Bless your heart.”

My friends let me talk. They listen. We don’t always agree but at least we can be civil. Not so with PUDFARB. There, fights break out when an SJW spots someone with a red Solo cup instead of the approved Non-GMO JoyCode bamboo fiber cups.

Motes and Logs

One bit of preaching before I go. My answer is constant. It’s motes and logs, Matthew 7:3-5: “Why do you see the speck that is in your brother’s eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye? Or how can you say to your brother, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ when there is the log in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take the speck out of your brother’s eye.

There lies the difference. PUDFARB is focused outward, on the world and its ills, in an evergreen battle to get the world to come to heel. Popular PUDFARB causes like Climate Change, Racism and Gun Violence lend themselves to perpetual cries to “do something”, doing something that increases the tyranny of the majority and iterating.

With each iteration, they escalate. Lately, their fight is with God’s creation. God screwed up when he made the world. His creation is an existential threat to PUDFARB. Removing the threat will require more law and a bigger government. So they battle against it, forever pushing their rock uphill.

Jacob Wrestling the Angel You Are a Racist

I’ll Take Richmond

We don’t care about the world. The world and people in it are fucked up. They do stupid shit that hurts others. We just stipulate that and move on. Our starting position is MYOB. The battlefield is within us. The war is with our own hot mess. Victory comes over a lifetime as we conquer sin separating us from Christ.

This is my choice: anxiety-filled life under constant reminder of what a shit I am, how I oppress *everyone* and background noise of suspicion that I might be better off in a reeducation camp. Or . . . live at the Capital of the South where it turns out that there is more grace, more sanity than the hallowed walls of City Hall in San Francisco. Give me Richmond. People are better here.

The beautiful thing about my status as a racist, evil bastard is that I’ll never be enough. Nothing I say or do will ever be sufficient. PUDFARB says I was born this way and will die this way. With each attempt at repentance, some new infraction is revealed and I am again the reason for a legion of worldly ills. To which I pay no attention.

So Judgy

I’m judged racist because of things I was born into. My adjectives make me profoundly evil. In addition, I am racist because of the moments when I’ve been violent to PUDFARB citizens. Nothing I say can change my reputation. I am only those slivers of time when I was at my worst. That is my story for PUDFARB.

So be it. It’s actually easier if PUDFARB believes I am as evil as they claim. Being this evil means they leave me alone. Which is good. This last batch of peas had venison sausage in it. Yum.

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Northam the Pious

I got asked what I think of the stink raised over a photo in a yearbook some claim is our Guvnut Ralphie Northam the Pious (Peeus?). I think many things, too many to fit into a blog post. So I’ll focus on a few.

First, let me repeat this question: are we only our worst moments? Our lives are a mixed bag of praiseworthy and regrettable behavior. How many of us could survive the sort of scrutiny given to Brett Kavanaugh and lately, Guvnut Ralphie Northam the Pious?

Can we stop micro-analyzing the lives of our leaders to find any tiny mote on their character? I and my friends would not survive such a close examination of our worst moments. Instead of a deep dive into youthful stupid behavior can we stipulate that all of us fall short and move on?

It’s a trope. A political leader is pure as the driven snow, more pious than St. Paul, unblemished as Mother Mary, and more wise than Confucius. That’s the standard some wish to apply to our leaders. They want a god-king better than a thousand years of Caesar.

So mythology is built around a potentate. Today’s blessed mother is Alexandria Occasio-Cortez (AOC). We are to believe she was conceived of a poor mother and father in the Bronx, raised up eating the tossed out scraps of beans and rice from a Cuban restaurant’s dumpster and automagically, graduated from BU. She is the next savior to triumph over the evil white dictator Cheeto Satan.

Shunned

You get to keep your high accolades until you become a threat to one of the political machines. Then you are worse than worm food. The machines must live so you must die. The machines fired a shot at Guvnut Northam the Peeus.

Northam the Peeus was elected with a similar bit of propaganda. We were told he isn’t extreme. He is a reasonable demi-god king free of any blemish. Desert Storm veteran, Pediatric Neurologist, and State Senator. He was our Lieutenant Governor before being anointed by McAuliffe the Wise. We voted for him because we were told that he’d be more reasonable than that evil, extremist and wicked demon Ed Gillespie (racist, homophobe, privileged, chauvinist, and asshat pig).

The weapon of choice is familiar. An accusation is published in a respected, reasonable news outlet. Rape for Kavanaugh, racism for Guvnut the Pious. The statement is made, “these are very serious accusations.” Every loyalist so accused is expected to accept his tub of worms and shovel with gratitude. Guvnut won his election by using the weapon of choice. Yet when it’s fired at him he isn’t sticking to the script.

Sullied Saint

And . . . guess what. Northam isn’t a saint. In typical fashion, the sins he accuses his opponents of are those that sully his dashiki. He never decried an ad that circulated during his campaign accusing evil Gillespie of the most vile of adjectives. Then we learn that there is a photo in a yearbook that might be Northam the Peeus. Ruh Roh.

Yes, ruh roh. Northam can’t be the Pious with a single mote on his reputation. It would mean he is mortal. Democratic leaders must be god-kings, not mortals. We could solve a lot of problems with our society if we would begin building temples to our gods, great and small. This mote can’t be.

It is. This week Ralphie the Mortal has gone dark. We haven’t heard from him since that disastrous press conference where he almost moon-walked until his wife told him it would be inappropriate. The rumor is that he isn’t leaving office and is looking for some land on which to build a temple to himself.

A New Deplorable

All the mortal sinners are either in the closet or sharing a bar stool with that KKK leader. So the battle over character has moved to increasingly minor, venial sins. The same level of moral outrage is given to a yearbook picture as an actual lynching.

Which is stupid. It makes the accusers sound like toddlers throwing a tantrum. Rather than inspire desired outcomes the accusations tend to fizzle. “These are very serious accusations,” goes the outcry. And the expected response is “ok, sorry, where are my worms and shovel?

Northam the Mortal isn’t sticking to the trope. He’s decided to stay and fight. Good for him. It’s gotten stupid. The bullies have been in charge. They shout, “BOO!” and we are supposed to cower and eat our worms peacefully. Then Trump won. That wasn’t supposed to happen. Her Royal Highness Billary Roddamned Clitoran was supposed to be coronated and preserve the empire. She lost.

Then, to make things worse, Pimp Daddy Baroque Obummer let Cheeto Satan have the Oval Orifice. Obummer left to play golf in Palm Springs. The horror of it all. How dare Pimp Daddy do that? Does he even care about us? Doesn’t he understand what he did?

Pimp Daddy understands, more than you know. He left to play golf because it was the right thing to do. We needed Trump. As time goes on it becomes more clear that we were in trouble. We’d fucked the wrong john for too long.

So the old tropes are failing. It used to be that you could order the blood worms and the shovel ahead of time because the outcome was a lock. Now people are taking encouragement from Trump and starting to fight. Northam the Mortal is just one of many.

Fam Status Questionable

Last, I grew up around organized crime leaders. They worked in Philly and commuted home to my neighborhood. Palace intrigue is some of the air I breathe. This hit on Northam the Mortal feels like a fight between crime gangs. Northam is a pawn in a turf war between the Clintons and the San Francisco political machine. It was supposed to be a mortal blow for Northam the Mortal. Ralphy’s worms were specially raised in Mendocino in soil owned by cannabis sativa growers. He did a bad thing deciding to fight. We don’t know yet whether SFO will hit him again.

Trump isn’t the problem. The problem is a civil war started by SFO’s political machine to take over the country. Before the rise of the Pelosi gang we were controlled by dixiecrats and the Chicago machine. Dixiecago has been losing elections for a little over forty years. In its place has been the Pelosi gang.

The Pelosi gang are true believers in a mashup of Mao, Islam, and Judiasm. Their answers to the world’s ills deepen their roots in power and disparity. The goal is visible in the state of Golden Mountain where it is ever more expensive to live there and the proletariat’s desperation is carefully managed so as to ensure it’s continued oppression.

Dirty Pious Barons

Baron Ralphie Northam Guvnut the Peeus isn’t guilty of racism. He’s guilty of assuming that the Clinton machine would protect him from his past. His crimes were safe until he became a threat to the machine. Then everything he ever did that is even remotely outrageous became cannon fodder. His attempts at repentance were ignored.

I’d guess that back in the day blackface wasn’t the mortal sin its being depicted as today. Today it’s the same as lynching. So anyone who put on blackface as a joke is no different from a murderous Imperial Wizard of the KKK. He or she must be ruined.

Here is the thing. When every menial sin is treated like a mortal sin based on the propaganda of the day it becomes stupid. It’s like my ex-wife accusing me of horrible crimes even after I have not been in touch with her for a decade. It’s redunkulousness. She lost credibility and her accusations became words on wind and water. Ditto what the Pelosi machine is doing with Guvnut the Pious.

No Longer News

Last . . . I hate writing about the news. It’s a moving target. It takes me a few weeks to write something about a news story. In that time its fallen off the news cycle and we have moved on.

Barron Guvnut the Peeus isn’t helping. He did an interview with Gale King that was awkward. Really awkward. During the interview he announced an apology tour. I’m not feeling this apology tour.

Nawthum the Peeus presumes he can heal us from our white privilege and evil, racist ways. Uhm . . . Ralph? Hello!? We didn’t do what you did. Why are you deflecting your own bad behavior by roping in the Commonwealth and blaming us for your shit?

I’m OK with a repentant sinner. I’m not OK with a sinner who apologizes then tries to take it back only to apologize for using !shoe polish! as part of a Michael Jackson costume. Or a politician who wants to change the subject to the big issue of institutional and cultural racism so he can say he has apologized for a huge, stupid misdeed.

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On Being Apostate

You Can Blame Me

It seems that the reason so many are so miserable is me. My adjectives, WASP, cis-hetero male, from parents who busted their ass to give me a better life, makes me bougie and bougie is evil. Being bougie means that my existence is a sin. So I owe a debt to those who are not bougie that I must somehow repay. All because I was born this way. About that . . . about on being apostate.

This debt is evergreen. Whatever I do, no matter how much I genuflect before the proletariat, I am still despicable simply because of my parents. If I had 40 acres and a mule to give it would not be enough. I am born into a debt because somehow I had advantages I owe to someone who isn’t kin to me.  Mao is so wise.

Those who fight White Privilege are racist. I’ll explain. First, they need a narrative that names an oppressed class who are suffering under an oppressor of their choosing. They declare that African-Americans are all Stepin Fetchit enslaved by white plantation owners. Just being a WASP is ipso facto proof of White Privilege.

Rather nicely, two groups are tagged with adjectives they cannot be free of. Both end up being shit on, one because they are prevented from any agency that would challenge their designation as oppressed and the other because they are prevented from being anything other than the enemy of the oppressed.  This is what social justice looks like.

My Apostate, White Privileged, Pimply Ass

White Privilege is a cocked up reason to feel guilty for being born into a WASP family. It makes great virtue signal and excuses a personal obligation to be accountable for our shit. The problem isn’t us, it’s our parents, who stupidly had sex and didn’t get an abortion. Idiots. Wikipedia says this about White Privilege.

White Privilege is rooted in Marxist thinking. It’s a version of the anger against the bourgeoisie. To be bougie is a sin, the thinking goes. So, we grind through all the bougie people and stuff and shit out anything and anyone of any value. For the very reasonable price of only 90% of our income and the surrender of all privately held assets. No problem.

I should be overjoyed at paying 90% of my income to a dear leader because, white privilege. Obviously, I am oppressing black people simply because I had the misfortune to be born to upper-middle-class WASPS. Next is the minister who triggered these 1700 words.

Reverand Katie Mulligan

Allow me to introduce the Reverend Katie Mulligan. Katie gave the sermon last Sunday at my Dad’s church. I grew up in this church. There is so much I didn’t know or understand back then. These days, my beef with my Dad’s church has changed. Katie’s sermon tells me that rather than speak tradition to peer pressure they have decided to be with the cool kids. Katie seems to be someone who has decided that she wants to be one of the cool kids so she’s attached cool kid adjectives to her personal brand.  I was the kid bullied by the cool kids.

Why I Live at St. Giles

Since then I’ve been a member of various churches. I keep coming back to being Presbyterian. In part because I too love to argue. These days I am a member of St Giles.  First Pres Pitman and St. Giles are very different churches.  Keith’s sermon last Sunday:

White People are the Cause of It All

Katie chose to focus on white privilege. Whoa. So my entire major malfunction is my heritage as a WASP? It really is my Mom’s fault? I’m so relieved. And here I thought that it was some Freudian id thing.  It must be that Jung was the real crackpot. Kinda sucks that I wasted all that money and energy on therapy when it really was my parent’s fault.

My problem with Katie’s sermon is that it is anchored in Marxist beliefs. Marx is an enemy of Christ. Marx taught the proletariat to hate the bourgeoisie. Those who follow Marx need two things: a proletariat and a bourgeoisie. Where one of these does not exist they set about creating it. Ergo most of the tropes regarding privilege, disparity, isms, etc. They need peeeple who are oppressed so that they can champion for them. It cannot be that the peeeple are in fact, fine.

Marx’s enemy was the Czar of Russia. His period is the early 20th Century when Capitalist Industrialism was the envy of some and a reason to revolution for others. Things can be made fairer by making everything owned and controlled by the government. Didn’t, doesn’t work.

Zoshul Just This

I don’t want to get too deep into my dislike of all the social justice movements that point to Marx as their philosophical roots. Modern Protestant thinking anchors our faith in a personal relationship with Christ. So the path to social justice begins with each of our hearts. The method is deeply Jewish–a tithe of 10% given to the church who in turn uses it to pay the bills and meet communal needs. It is different from Marxist ideas of government where the tithe becomes a tax and the authority to choose how the tax is spent is given to the party instead of the church.

The religious point I want to make is that we won’t anger our way to an answer for all the bougie sins laid at our feet. There is an evergreen stew of resentment and sins invented to explain why they are so miserable and we are so evil. After a while, though, life as a shunned whore living on El Camino de las Almas Perdidas en el Valle de la Sombra de la Muerte sounds better than the empty promises of an abusive pimp like the social justice movement of the day.

Katie Says

Katie asks us to either feel guilty for an accident of birth caused by a few moments of horizontal bop perpetrated by our parents or angry that the roulette wheel of life spun and we got the black square. Either way, it is evergreen. There is nothing I can do that will ever be sufficient for Katie to accept my restitution or repentance. I will forever be the enemy to her simply because I had the misfortune to be born a WASP with parents who busted their ass so I could have a better life. I owe a bottomless debt to those less fortunate than me on the basis of my race and choice of gender identity.

Thanks, Katie, that makes me feel so much better. Do you know a good supplier of worms I can eat while I dig my own grave because of the White Guilt you accuse me of?

You cannot be a Marxist Christian. The two are antithetical. Marx pointed to the bougie, to the privileged, to explain why the proletariat was so miserable. His answer was to destroy the bougie and redistribute their wealth to the proletariat. Millions died as a result. Katie wants me to be happy about this, to pick up a protest sign and offer my body as a holy sacrifice to atone for my white privilege. I’ll get right on that after I go insult another brown person.

Hail Ceasar

Christ’ enemy was his own church and the Roman Empire. Where Marx offers a replacement God-King who would be fairer than the Czar Christ’ kingdom has each of us as its cornerstone. We are, individually, the resurrected kingdom, the new temple. Instead of anchoring a solution in the God-King and our self-worth defined by our place in the hierarchy Christ turns to us and asks each of us to do our part. Jesus was far more anarchist than imperialist. Marxism is just imperialism with a set of rules preferred by revolutionaries.

Katie, if you want us to fix this the answer is old and simple. Instead of looking to a pseudo-religious ideology that teaches hate for your way and worth, look again to Christ. The Beatitudes are a place to start. I’ll repeat my essentials as a suggested way: love kin, friends, neighbors and enemies alike, when in doubt, give grace and mercy first, surrender everything so that the only thing left is a desire to love Christ, be humble and quiet, as these are presented to you, do small acts of kindness of great love, and last, service and missions first.

I doubt that Katie and I will agree on much. Instead of being a light on a hill PCUSA chooses to placate its abusers in the name of diversity and inclusion. Katie, sorry, you chose to be angry at me and threaten to shun me because I happen to believe that Christ called me to something other than hating myself because I happened to land on the white square of the roulette wheel of life. I’ll pray for you.

Not One of the Cool Kids

My Jesus is absurd. He says stupid shit like, “I am the vine and you are the branches.” He asks me to love people who I’d like to punch in the face. Instead of offering me a free cell phone because I say I need it he wants me to serve the poor, the aged, and prisoners with no hope of return. Katie’s Jesus offers safe spaces featuring coloring books and snacks to insulate her from the trials of absurd living according to the way of a martryed carpenter. It indulges us in every whim. Don’t like dating guys? No problem, date women. Can’t decide what gender identity feels right? No problem, don’t decide. Born something other than white and life sucks? Poor thing, it’s not your fault. It’s those evil white people pissing on your future.

My Jesus told me to stop whining, to shut up and that I would work for Him. I don’t get safe spaces or all that is offered within them. I am not a cool kid. Some say that I am the reason they are so fucked up. It is because I happen to be born to WASP parents that I am obligated to brown people for sins I was born into. Where are those worms and my shovel?

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Race

First Posted 27-Feb-2015

I’m a Nascar fan. You say race to me and I’m thinking stock cars and oval race tracks. But, I’m not an idiot. I know that a synonym for race refers to the genealogical heritage of some folk and how that heritage affects their lives. Racism is tribalism writ large. Race is one way we select who is in, who is with us, and who is out, who is “other” and thus, worthy of exclusion and derision.
WAR & CONFLICT BOOK ERA: CIVIL WAR/BACKGROUND: SLAVERY & ABOLITIONISMThis needs to be one of my “not news” posts. It should not be news that discriminating against someone because of their skin color is a bad idea. God called us to love kin, neighbors and enemies. I don’t find an exception to that allowing us to declare that folk with a different skin tone from ours are to be shunned or treated as chattel. I’m repeating this because I feel like I need to say it again. Maybe I’m being stupid, thinking that if I say it enough more people will listen. It is a foolish way to argue–repeat something, louder and angrier each time, believing that the repetitions with more feeling will persuade the target of the verbal battery. It is how my son’s Mom & I used to argue. We were stubborn and stupid about it.

I should just let it go. I am not letting it go. For a couple reasons. One, a good friend of mine is deeply wounded on this topic. His misery, his bitter experience with being shunned because of his ethnicity, is something that colors the world shit-brown for him. He explains a lot of his misery based on it being caused by the accident of his birth to his parents. And here is where I should say he’s black. It’s the obvious punch line to this paragraph. But, believing misery is caused by a chance birth into an ethnicity isn’t a hangup that only African American’s have. So it’s not relevant to this essay whether my friend is black. What is relevant is that he has this habit of explaining his troubles by saying it is because of this ethnicity. He won’t let go of this. So I find myself wanting to say again that ethnicity and skin color say nothing about the character of us.

It’s not news except that ethnicity and skin color as characterizing attributes is something that gets repeated when it should not be a defining characteristic. Also not news, I hope, is that the labels “black” and “white” as markers of skin color are misnomers. Most of humanity is some shade of brown. Even I, ethnically “white”, am a shade of beige or light brown. Skin color as a measure of who is and isn’t in the tribe is a bad choice of discriminating characteristic. We are all brown. Some are darker brown than others. It’s a question of degree rather than a binary black/white choice. If anything, I and my fair skinned kin, are a minority. We are in charge because we tend to win wars. It’s been true for a while. 10,000 Scotts-Irish guys on a battlefield is not an opponent you want to face.

We don’t win honorably either. We defeated the Chinese by making them addicted to Opium. We hurt the Native Americans deeply with our new diseases. We cheat and win. We control most of Europe to this day. We may win ugly, but we win. Which . . . pisses some folk off. I get that. I know that the whole sordid affair of slavery was an ugly partnership between tribes in West Africa, my British ancestors, and my kin here in Richmond, VA.

It’s been nearly 50 years since the Civil Rights movement. The Emancipation Proclamation was 152 years ago as of this post. We’ve come a long way. Not saying we are done. Pockets of asshats exist. But the days of broad cultural assumption that we are divided along racial lines are gone. So, staying pissed off starts being a bit stupid. In any case, there are three trump cards that end the whole conversation on a good note. The first is that we need to continue the habit of remembering that whites are the minority, actually, and we should be grateful for our success and humbly serve as we are able out of that success. The second is the greatest commandment: Love God with all our hearts, minds and souls and second, love kin, neighbors and enemies alike. Third, the golden rule, treat others as we wish to be treated. Three simple principles to live by that can end racism where it reappears. Three simple things we can all do regardless of ethnic origin. I started with Nascar. Joey Logano won the Daytona 500 this year in a Ford.

Maybe his victory isn’t connected, maybe I’m being annoying in ending this way. So be it. Congratulations to Penske Racing and Joey Logano for a great win.

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