There has been a lot of talk these past 18 months about a wall. A wall being built that one country won't pay for and another country where the wall specifics exist in the ether of one man's mind. When I first heard about the wall being built on the southern border, many questions came to mind. Why? Who's going to pay for it? What's it going to be made from? That doesn't sound necessary. Sounds vindictive and interferes with commerce. But a wall a thousand miles long that can be averted by many ways and can't even be built in others? But the more I thought about it, the more a wall really does make sense. After 240 years as a union, it's time we take the originator up on the idea of the wall and start actually building it. But not where you think.
I used to fret that there would be a new secession of states in this country even though I lived in a state where it wasn't a consideration. There have long been state legislations who have taken up the cause to put together proposals to leave, but nothing has ever gotten much past committe work to be taken seriously. How would it happen? What would the federal government do? Would we have another civil war to keep the union together? Why do they want to leave?
This where I want to build my wall. I'm calling for the United States to implement a once every decade state relegation and start pushing states out of the Union that aren't contributing to an advancement of the Union. No more federal money is spent or allocated to these states. No more worry about what goes on within their borders. No more trade deals and certainly no more internet access for anyone who lives within the borders from companies in the Union. We put up physical borders on all the surrounding states with active border patrol agents and border gates. Anyone from the relegated states would now need a valid passport to come into the real United States. I'm starting with you Alabama, Mississippi [Historical and current racism], Illinois and New Mexico [Debt per capita] and promoting Guam, Puerto Rico, the Virgin Islands and American Samoa. You want to be a part of this Union, you have to earn it and maybe the next decade you might be able to get back in. For now, enjoy your life as a free state and stay behind my wall.
23 August 2017
09 September 2012
Realiperception
By my count I should have been dead by now. Three times at least. Maybe a fourth existentially. Let's start with the first one and how I avoided being kidnapped, raped and killed. In the age that I am now looking back at my 13 year old self, I avoided the situation from a predator.
In 1983 and it's the first day or couple of days before my first ever high school football practice. A day I had long been looking forward to. I'm riding a 10-speed bicycle back from my high school weight room. About 8 miles away from my house. So round trip of 16 miles. Not a big deal at all. 45 minute ride. At most an hour. On the way there is a one lane bridge overlooking a creek or lazy river. Home to otters, river clams, birds, fox, rabbit, squirrel, catfish, blue gill, carp. I stop on the bridge road edge and watch cars go back and forth. Wave to people I know and stare at people I don't trying to see if I do.
A truck pulls up beside me. I know the man sort of. He is the older brother of a girl from my high school. A girl 2 years older. So maybe 30. Later on he would appear again at my school for an advanced biology class. He wants to know if I need a ride. Throw your bike in the back and I'll give you a ride. I say no. I'm good. He says 'All right.' and drives away. Creepy to me then. Creepy more to me now in hindsight. On my bike and I take a different route home. And crash. Wipe out hard on some loose gravel. Down I go and gash my shoulder. Blood coming out and you can see down to the bone.
Along comes the same truck. Same guy and the same questions. Question now is was he following me?. Same answer as I try and hide the blood under my shirt. I'm dead if I go right? I'm there to play football. Ever.
Take 2
It's Christmas eve in 1992. I'm driving downstate from Naperville on I-55 near Coal City. It's not snowing or raining. Cold but it's December. Driving a circa 1988 Oldsmobile Cutlass Ciera. Passed down for now. Future it would buy me my first ever bought and paid for on my own vehicle 2000 Jeep Wrangler at 30 years old. Digress. Right lane at 75 mph and I spot the speeding car lights barreling down. Move over to the left and face forward. Look back and now no time to switch because this guy, he's not gonna ram me is he? He's going to get over right? I'm in the left lane. He can go around m....Smash in to the back of my car at 75 mph. But I don't skid. He doesn't fly off the road. Nothing. We both pull off to the shoulder and see the damage. His car is totalled. Can't be driven any more that I can see. My car? Not a scratch. Not a dent. Nothing that says this car has been in a violent collision. The driver doesn't speak English but we communicate that he also doesn't have insurance or a license. Don't call the insurance company he wants us to do. So I don't. And I leave and get back on I-55 toward family. But I also leave a dead body back on that road side. There shouldn't have been a family christmas in 1992 that was happy. The cart should have gone flying off the road and flipped over with the passenger ejected from the front seat because he never wore a seat belt.
The buck
I've never seen one in the wild before. Many does but never a buck. As I'm walking through the woods thinking there might be a cougar just laying in wait in the tall grass near the river, I see the giant animal. At first I think it is just a large boulder. But the boulder moves and I know it's a deer. But not just any deer. A giant stag. Not afraid of anything and certainly not me. In fact, he stares me down as I take a picture of me. Keeps eating grass and stares me down as I walk further down the path. Back toward the Jeep. Back away from the calmness and toward the noise.
As I get closer, I remember Victor
Viktor's bridge
In 2008 I was dating a teacher in Chicago with two sons. Viktor was one and don't remember was the other one. Don't remember was the one I actually met but Viktor was the one I heard the most about. She took me with not-Viktor out to the woods on a Saturday morning with garbage bags, coffee and excitement. We treked through the forest and came to a stream we needed to cross. Mom looked at not-Viktor and they both ran toward the stream. 'Mama. Mama. Look! Viktor's bridge is still there.' And part of it was. Three logs going perpendicular to the stream but the bridge needed to be fixed. We couldn't cross easily so not-Viktor and Mom found another log, lay it down amongst the others and fixed the other ones tight like a raft. We walked on, took out garbage, found a turtle, didn't think about cougars and finished our coffee by the end of the walk.
Viktor's bridge is still there today. The stream is gone, the dirt built up. Maybe Mom and not-Viktor still show up week after week to keep it that way. Maybe Viktor himself comes along now. I've never met Viktor in person. Don't know what he looks like or sounds like but he has a bridge in the middle of a Chicago woods and giant deer go across it every day.
Take 3
Six years old. Maybe five. At a cousin's A-frame house in East Central Illinois with a pond. Pier at the end that is underwater before footsteps. I walk out to the end, fall off and start to drown. I can see figures standing on the end of the dock through the cloud of the water but no one is helping me out. I'm going down and a hand comes down and grabs me out of the water. Believe her name was Beth. This memory only exists for me. No one else has a recollection of it or thinks about it multiple times like I do. So there it is. 3 times shoulda been dead. Maybe I was. Because the 4th time I wished I had but had to live through divorce.
In 1983 and it's the first day or couple of days before my first ever high school football practice. A day I had long been looking forward to. I'm riding a 10-speed bicycle back from my high school weight room. About 8 miles away from my house. So round trip of 16 miles. Not a big deal at all. 45 minute ride. At most an hour. On the way there is a one lane bridge overlooking a creek or lazy river. Home to otters, river clams, birds, fox, rabbit, squirrel, catfish, blue gill, carp. I stop on the bridge road edge and watch cars go back and forth. Wave to people I know and stare at people I don't trying to see if I do.
A truck pulls up beside me. I know the man sort of. He is the older brother of a girl from my high school. A girl 2 years older. So maybe 30. Later on he would appear again at my school for an advanced biology class. He wants to know if I need a ride. Throw your bike in the back and I'll give you a ride. I say no. I'm good. He says 'All right.' and drives away. Creepy to me then. Creepy more to me now in hindsight. On my bike and I take a different route home. And crash. Wipe out hard on some loose gravel. Down I go and gash my shoulder. Blood coming out and you can see down to the bone.
Along comes the same truck. Same guy and the same questions. Question now is was he following me?. Same answer as I try and hide the blood under my shirt. I'm dead if I go right? I'm there to play football. Ever.
Take 2
It's Christmas eve in 1992. I'm driving downstate from Naperville on I-55 near Coal City. It's not snowing or raining. Cold but it's December. Driving a circa 1988 Oldsmobile Cutlass Ciera. Passed down for now. Future it would buy me my first ever bought and paid for on my own vehicle 2000 Jeep Wrangler at 30 years old. Digress. Right lane at 75 mph and I spot the speeding car lights barreling down. Move over to the left and face forward. Look back and now no time to switch because this guy, he's not gonna ram me is he? He's going to get over right? I'm in the left lane. He can go around m....Smash in to the back of my car at 75 mph. But I don't skid. He doesn't fly off the road. Nothing. We both pull off to the shoulder and see the damage. His car is totalled. Can't be driven any more that I can see. My car? Not a scratch. Not a dent. Nothing that says this car has been in a violent collision. The driver doesn't speak English but we communicate that he also doesn't have insurance or a license. Don't call the insurance company he wants us to do. So I don't. And I leave and get back on I-55 toward family. But I also leave a dead body back on that road side. There shouldn't have been a family christmas in 1992 that was happy. The cart should have gone flying off the road and flipped over with the passenger ejected from the front seat because he never wore a seat belt.
The buck
I've never seen one in the wild before. Many does but never a buck. As I'm walking through the woods thinking there might be a cougar just laying in wait in the tall grass near the river, I see the giant animal. At first I think it is just a large boulder. But the boulder moves and I know it's a deer. But not just any deer. A giant stag. Not afraid of anything and certainly not me. In fact, he stares me down as I take a picture of me. Keeps eating grass and stares me down as I walk further down the path. Back toward the Jeep. Back away from the calmness and toward the noise.
As I get closer, I remember Victor
Viktor's bridge
In 2008 I was dating a teacher in Chicago with two sons. Viktor was one and don't remember was the other one. Don't remember was the one I actually met but Viktor was the one I heard the most about. She took me with not-Viktor out to the woods on a Saturday morning with garbage bags, coffee and excitement. We treked through the forest and came to a stream we needed to cross. Mom looked at not-Viktor and they both ran toward the stream. 'Mama. Mama. Look! Viktor's bridge is still there.' And part of it was. Three logs going perpendicular to the stream but the bridge needed to be fixed. We couldn't cross easily so not-Viktor and Mom found another log, lay it down amongst the others and fixed the other ones tight like a raft. We walked on, took out garbage, found a turtle, didn't think about cougars and finished our coffee by the end of the walk.
Viktor's bridge is still there today. The stream is gone, the dirt built up. Maybe Mom and not-Viktor still show up week after week to keep it that way. Maybe Viktor himself comes along now. I've never met Viktor in person. Don't know what he looks like or sounds like but he has a bridge in the middle of a Chicago woods and giant deer go across it every day.
Take 3
Six years old. Maybe five. At a cousin's A-frame house in East Central Illinois with a pond. Pier at the end that is underwater before footsteps. I walk out to the end, fall off and start to drown. I can see figures standing on the end of the dock through the cloud of the water but no one is helping me out. I'm going down and a hand comes down and grabs me out of the water. Believe her name was Beth. This memory only exists for me. No one else has a recollection of it or thinks about it multiple times like I do. So there it is. 3 times shoulda been dead. Maybe I was. Because the 4th time I wished I had but had to live through divorce.
13 August 2012
Suggested intros:
1)
Look, I tried to write and tell you that I was going away many times. I actually wrote the letter you have in your hand now three weeks ago. I gave it to a friend to hold until this moment when he put it under my body.
2)
Sharon was my boss at work and she wasn't good. She was lazy, disrespectful, seemed mostly illiterate. Couldn't put two thoughts together to hold up one end of a conversation. The team ignored her as a rule and spoke to her out of obligation. When she didn't return from lunch, nobody worried and certainly nobody said anything. By the third day, we just assumed she quit or was fired and was too embarrased to face us. Not that we would have listened or paid attention when she was talking anyway. This is a large company, with small agile team functions to drive the large projects. Contractors from this country, contractors from other countries, full time employees. Part time employees. The gamut. When they found her body behind the copier in the basement she had copies of an agenda for our weekly team meeting, a new toner cartridge and a kilo of cocaine inside her purse.
1)
Look, I tried to write and tell you that I was going away many times. I actually wrote the letter you have in your hand now three weeks ago. I gave it to a friend to hold until this moment when he put it under my body.
2)
Sharon was my boss at work and she wasn't good. She was lazy, disrespectful, seemed mostly illiterate. Couldn't put two thoughts together to hold up one end of a conversation. The team ignored her as a rule and spoke to her out of obligation. When she didn't return from lunch, nobody worried and certainly nobody said anything. By the third day, we just assumed she quit or was fired and was too embarrased to face us. Not that we would have listened or paid attention when she was talking anyway. This is a large company, with small agile team functions to drive the large projects. Contractors from this country, contractors from other countries, full time employees. Part time employees. The gamut. When they found her body behind the copier in the basement she had copies of an agenda for our weekly team meeting, a new toner cartridge and a kilo of cocaine inside her purse.
01 June 2012
Mike Golic, you big piece of disingenuous shit
Listening hard on the way to work and it never fails to hear the bile coming from your mouth.
Here's what I heard on the drive in this morning:
'Got a letter here from a J. Posnanski about the game last night...' and then pretends to read a 'letter' from someone he claims he doesn't know and is just a casual listener to the show. With no hint of sarcasm or knowing wink to the audience that he really does know the person. A tone that could obviously be employed. Excuse me while I hurl.
First off, there is no way that a letter gets to your offices in the morning commenting on a game played last night.
Second, you know who Joe Posnanski is. You have been in the sports business a long time. He was a senior writer at Sports Illustrated and nationally renowned writer. If you don't know or haven't heard, you do no homework in your job. Don't lie to the audience and pretend you don't know who he is. Why would you lie to your audience that you neither know nor have heard of Joe Posnanski Mike? What has he done to you personally or what have your bosses told you to do to obfuscate the truth? It wouldn't have been so difficult to say this, 'Reading a tweet from Joe Posnanski former writer for Sports Illustrated...' or 'I'm reading Joe Posnanski's blog and he says...' or 'We got a text from Joe Posnanski today...'. But no. That would not be the case. Instead we get the continual lie and shots straight down the corporate middle. We don't have 6 seconds in our show to say who Joe Posnanski is to some of the audience who may not know.. A show 4 hours every day that never takes a single position or makes a statement without qualifiers or concessions to the other view point. Congratulations Mike. You've now rise up to Mike Gr's. level.
Here's what I heard on the drive in this morning:
'Got a letter here from a J. Posnanski about the game last night...' and then pretends to read a 'letter' from someone he claims he doesn't know and is just a casual listener to the show. With no hint of sarcasm or knowing wink to the audience that he really does know the person. A tone that could obviously be employed. Excuse me while I hurl.
First off, there is no way that a letter gets to your offices in the morning commenting on a game played last night.
Second, you know who Joe Posnanski is. You have been in the sports business a long time. He was a senior writer at Sports Illustrated and nationally renowned writer. If you don't know or haven't heard, you do no homework in your job. Don't lie to the audience and pretend you don't know who he is. Why would you lie to your audience that you neither know nor have heard of Joe Posnanski Mike? What has he done to you personally or what have your bosses told you to do to obfuscate the truth? It wouldn't have been so difficult to say this, 'Reading a tweet from Joe Posnanski former writer for Sports Illustrated...' or 'I'm reading Joe Posnanski's blog and he says...' or 'We got a text from Joe Posnanski today...'. But no. That would not be the case. Instead we get the continual lie and shots straight down the corporate middle. We don't have 6 seconds in our show to say who Joe Posnanski is to some of the audience who may not know.. A show 4 hours every day that never takes a single position or makes a statement without qualifiers or concessions to the other view point. Congratulations Mike. You've now rise up to Mike Gr's. level.
19 May 2012
Halfway to Hell
Things that may happen, but I'll never live to see them:
-A woman elected president
-A manned mission to Mars
-Existence of Aliens and ghosts definitively proven
-A life immortal
-A third officially recognized gender
-The end of racism
-Unemployment rate below %1
-A good politician and a true word from your government
-My marriage to Morgan Fairchild or Mary Roach
A stem in the tide of the elimination of personal freedoms
The weight-loss overnight pill solution
The scientific solution that that world has been waiting for - Highway road material that needs no repair. This is the solution the world needs and where our scientific efforts should be focused. And why? Because it affects the everyday lives of millions of people. Drugs, medicine, doctors, health regimens, cures for diseases - All pointless. They deal with the esoteric line in the sand that life can be extended if only you take this pill. If only you have this surgery. Busy work for people who have a belief in the nobleness of helping others. Millions of years, people survived, procreated, gave birth, died without the benefit of medicine. People will continue for millions more.
No different than prayer. In the end, you can't prevent death. so your ultimate work is pointless. In the end, your god will take your life. But a highway without planned obsolescence. That would affect the today and now.
A tollway, bonds paid off, that becomes a freeway
Teleportation
A country population that is 80% non-white Hispanic and 80% owned by China
Since 1974 when I first started the journey toward awareness of things happening in the future. I believe it may have been later but it was the little girl sitting on the edge of the shore with her father and the familiar tune of 'Alcoa can't wait. We can't wait for tomorrow'. They imbued me with with the sense that something was just around the corner but we're not waiting to make that turn. We are making changes now. I've reached the point when tomorrow will never come. I won't be looking around the corner with hope. I won't be waiting for the delivery that the politician promised. I won't be listening to politicians at all. The most I can hope for is to become a progressive in my small little world and control the little matters.
-A woman elected president
-A manned mission to Mars
-Existence of Aliens and ghosts definitively proven
-A life immortal
-A third officially recognized gender
-The end of racism
-Unemployment rate below %1
-A good politician and a true word from your government
-My marriage to Morgan Fairchild or Mary Roach
A stem in the tide of the elimination of personal freedoms
The weight-loss overnight pill solution
The scientific solution that that world has been waiting for - Highway road material that needs no repair. This is the solution the world needs and where our scientific efforts should be focused. And why? Because it affects the everyday lives of millions of people. Drugs, medicine, doctors, health regimens, cures for diseases - All pointless. They deal with the esoteric line in the sand that life can be extended if only you take this pill. If only you have this surgery. Busy work for people who have a belief in the nobleness of helping others. Millions of years, people survived, procreated, gave birth, died without the benefit of medicine. People will continue for millions more.
No different than prayer. In the end, you can't prevent death. so your ultimate work is pointless. In the end, your god will take your life. But a highway without planned obsolescence. That would affect the today and now.
A tollway, bonds paid off, that becomes a freeway
Teleportation
A country population that is 80% non-white Hispanic and 80% owned by China
Since 1974 when I first started the journey toward awareness of things happening in the future. I believe it may have been later but it was the little girl sitting on the edge of the shore with her father and the familiar tune of 'Alcoa can't wait. We can't wait for tomorrow'. They imbued me with with the sense that something was just around the corner but we're not waiting to make that turn. We are making changes now. I've reached the point when tomorrow will never come. I won't be looking around the corner with hope. I won't be waiting for the delivery that the politician promised. I won't be listening to politicians at all. The most I can hope for is to become a progressive in my small little world and control the little matters.
13 May 2012
Art of the dumped
This sucks. It really does. But it seems there is no formula or pill to getting someone out of your system except time. It's like a ferocious hangover when you care about someone and are rejected. You keep checking for emails for texts but nothing ever comes. You can't pick up the phone and call because there really is nothing left to say except you handing over your ego and groveling. You should move on. You know you should move on. You have to move on but you can't.
I can only imagine how it feels when you not only get dumped but they go away without giving you a reason. At least that was there so there is some solace. Introducing someone else may help in the short term but if you are still chemically connected to your thoughts of this other person, it's hard to focus.
I can only imagine how it feels when you not only get dumped but they go away without giving you a reason. At least that was there so there is some solace. Introducing someone else may help in the short term but if you are still chemically connected to your thoughts of this other person, it's hard to focus.
27 March 2012
Phone book
I had been working with Kristen for 6 months. We worked great together and she told me all about her husband and her little daughter and her happy life and now she was leaving to take another job.
Perfect. She was a great worker and I would recommend her on Linked in.
I wished her well and told her to give me a call if she ever needed a reference for a job. Fact is, the team would struggle for awhile without her.
'Thanks. It was great working with you too. ' is what I expected her to say and what she did say in an email. But then she added:
'Oh and by the way. Why don't you come over and fuck me?'
Wait what? Did I just read that right? Was that some kind of subconscious thought I wasn't supposed to hear? How am I supposed to respond to that? You are supposed to say nothing, act like she never said it. Take it as a compliment and move on. Like a normal moral person does. Problem is that I don't have that moral capacity. Even though I found nothing remotely attractive about her, I found out where her next job was. Got in touch with her when she was separated, drove 13 hours to Noth Carolina and did what she wanted.
Three other married women later and the moral compass is still not working. The attraction to someone you know is with someone else is easy. It's not about whether they are obtainable or
not. That's never the goal.
In my office there was another woman who had been dating a married man for 12 years. She was now 29. The guy was now 44. Through the walls of the cubicles she laid out her story daily in detail.
Each day right before noon the tears would start. Sometimes just a few. Sometimes just one or two. Sometimes she left for the day. On the day he was killed in a car accident on his way to take her to lunch, she didn't cry at all. She couldn't go to the funeral. She couldn't get drunk at the wake. She wouldn't be getting any of his life insurance money. But most of all, she wouldn't be crying before noon anymore. On the day he was killed in a car accident, she laughed.
Possession is an ugly word. Is Marriage an ugly word? For many it does imply possession and entitlement. If that's marriage then yes it's ugly. Why can't people just enjoy being together? Live in separate houses, meet up when they feel like it with no pressure. Because people want that legal committment that says I am with you. If you are ever in the hospital, I will be there for you. If I need someone to make a life altering decision for my life that I can't make, I want you to make that for me. When tax time comes I want that deduction. When you want to leave, it's going to take some time because it should. People need an explanation even if they don't understand. When we go someplace, I want people to know that I am with not just someone, but you. When the car won't start, I'm calling you for a jump. When the kids come home from college, they are staying at our house and not spending it on the highway shuffle. You should have to want to work through the ennui. Through the boredom. Through the anger and fights to find the cocaine of life. The sweet spot that comes with sharing more than just a cup of coffee.
But back to my original thought is that there isn't a national known female figure that we can point to who holds a leading position, all by her own doing, not because she married someone powerful or is the girlfriend of a powerful leader or was married to a leader and that leader died so she filled a void. No there just isn't a woman leading the national discourse. There was one national leader in Madalyn Murray O'Hair, but I wouldn't really classify her organization in the same light. I'm talking about a uniter. A strong female that brings all sides together in their hatred of blacks, hispanics, asians and especially jews. The racist movement is soley partriarchial driven. The thoughts emerge from the men. They are progressed by men. They include women but only as an ncillary afterthought. Where is she? Where is this blonde female germanic power of the white race that can unite the separatists on her own? I don't believe she exists or ever will.
It also got me thinking about just what a life would be like if the white supremacists got their way and had a white's only society for themselves in this day an age. Let me break it down. They couldn't eat any food purchased at a supermarket because %100 percent of it is created by a mixing of the races. They can't watch tv - You know. The Jews. Listen to the radio - because of what's on it and where the radios are made. Certainly not a whites-only operation. Use the internet? It was created and is run by non-whites. Drive a car? Not if you want to go anywhere. Try finding one with only parts fully made by whites. You will have the first one. And a house or apartment? Non-whites had %100 percent contribution to your living quarters. I forgot clothing. They can't wear any store bought clothing. None of it is made by whites only.
So where does this leave our white's only society? Naked, living in the forest foraging for food
at all hours of the day and night, living under a shelter of sticks and trying to figure out a way to keep the predators at bay during the night because they can't find a rifle or pistol that was
only made by white's. A bleak existence but it's there for you. White's only though.
Perfect. She was a great worker and I would recommend her on Linked in.
I wished her well and told her to give me a call if she ever needed a reference for a job. Fact is, the team would struggle for awhile without her.
'Thanks. It was great working with you too. ' is what I expected her to say and what she did say in an email. But then she added:
'Oh and by the way. Why don't you come over and fuck me?'
Wait what? Did I just read that right? Was that some kind of subconscious thought I wasn't supposed to hear? How am I supposed to respond to that? You are supposed to say nothing, act like she never said it. Take it as a compliment and move on. Like a normal moral person does. Problem is that I don't have that moral capacity. Even though I found nothing remotely attractive about her, I found out where her next job was. Got in touch with her when she was separated, drove 13 hours to Noth Carolina and did what she wanted.
Three other married women later and the moral compass is still not working. The attraction to someone you know is with someone else is easy. It's not about whether they are obtainable or
not. That's never the goal.
In my office there was another woman who had been dating a married man for 12 years. She was now 29. The guy was now 44. Through the walls of the cubicles she laid out her story daily in detail.
Each day right before noon the tears would start. Sometimes just a few. Sometimes just one or two. Sometimes she left for the day. On the day he was killed in a car accident on his way to take her to lunch, she didn't cry at all. She couldn't go to the funeral. She couldn't get drunk at the wake. She wouldn't be getting any of his life insurance money. But most of all, she wouldn't be crying before noon anymore. On the day he was killed in a car accident, she laughed.
Possession is an ugly word. Is Marriage an ugly word? For many it does imply possession and entitlement. If that's marriage then yes it's ugly. Why can't people just enjoy being together? Live in separate houses, meet up when they feel like it with no pressure. Because people want that legal committment that says I am with you. If you are ever in the hospital, I will be there for you. If I need someone to make a life altering decision for my life that I can't make, I want you to make that for me. When tax time comes I want that deduction. When you want to leave, it's going to take some time because it should. People need an explanation even if they don't understand. When we go someplace, I want people to know that I am with not just someone, but you. When the car won't start, I'm calling you for a jump. When the kids come home from college, they are staying at our house and not spending it on the highway shuffle. You should have to want to work through the ennui. Through the boredom. Through the anger and fights to find the cocaine of life. The sweet spot that comes with sharing more than just a cup of coffee.
But back to my original thought is that there isn't a national known female figure that we can point to who holds a leading position, all by her own doing, not because she married someone powerful or is the girlfriend of a powerful leader or was married to a leader and that leader died so she filled a void. No there just isn't a woman leading the national discourse. There was one national leader in Madalyn Murray O'Hair, but I wouldn't really classify her organization in the same light. I'm talking about a uniter. A strong female that brings all sides together in their hatred of blacks, hispanics, asians and especially jews. The racist movement is soley partriarchial driven. The thoughts emerge from the men. They are progressed by men. They include women but only as an ncillary afterthought. Where is she? Where is this blonde female germanic power of the white race that can unite the separatists on her own? I don't believe she exists or ever will.
It also got me thinking about just what a life would be like if the white supremacists got their way and had a white's only society for themselves in this day an age. Let me break it down. They couldn't eat any food purchased at a supermarket because %100 percent of it is created by a mixing of the races. They can't watch tv - You know. The Jews. Listen to the radio - because of what's on it and where the radios are made. Certainly not a whites-only operation. Use the internet? It was created and is run by non-whites. Drive a car? Not if you want to go anywhere. Try finding one with only parts fully made by whites. You will have the first one. And a house or apartment? Non-whites had %100 percent contribution to your living quarters. I forgot clothing. They can't wear any store bought clothing. None of it is made by whites only.
So where does this leave our white's only society? Naked, living in the forest foraging for food
at all hours of the day and night, living under a shelter of sticks and trying to figure out a way to keep the predators at bay during the night because they can't find a rifle or pistol that was
only made by white's. A bleak existence but it's there for you. White's only though.
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