"Ours may be the first civilization destroyed, not by the power of our enemies, but by the ignorance of our teachers and the dangerous nonsense they are teaching our children. In an age of Artificial Intelligence, they are creating Artificial Stupidity..." -- Thomas Sowell
But is it really "artificial" Professor? In my humble opinion, I believe the stupidity existed long before and didn't necessarily have to be created from whole cloth by a bunch of academics.
Which brings us to the stupidity of the steaming dog turd known as "Critical Race Theory", which is three lies for the price of one; for the criticism isn't critical as much as pathetic, race is merely the excuse, and like most theories, it only has value when it can be examined against objective criteria and evidence, and not merely an outward projection of someone's inner emotional turmoil and lack of self-esteem.
For those of you frightened by the prospect that Critical Race Theory will soon become the guiding principle of Western Civilization, I say this -- unbunch your panties. For much like every other bad idea that has had it's origin in the innate envy, ignorance and monumental (emphasis on "mental") incompetence of the Left, it will eventually have it's reckoning with reality and die the ignominious death it deserves.
Critical Race Theory is the last phlegmy gasp of a failed sub-culture, the last attempt to achieve through a tortured exegesis what cannot be gained by intelligence, diligence, perseverance and personal initiative and responsibility.
One hundred and fifty-six years after the abolition of slavery -- that's 8 generations, for those of you keeping score at home -- and despite the evidence of more black millionaires, more black entrepreneurs and CEOs, more blacks with college degrees, more blacks in the middle class than ever before, and even after the
And, naturally, this same segment has been conditioned to believe -- and behave as if -- this is someone else's fault.
But now it will soon come to a crashing end.
A nation $25 trillion in debt cannot afford the professional poverty class; a nation that is rapidly filling up with Other Brown People (who are openly being courted by the previous Brown People's ostensible defenders and providers) that threatens demographic and political catastrophe for the American Black; in a nation where millions must awaken each day and have the epiphany that for all the talk, all the welfare, all the fawning paternalism of the asswipe White Liberal, it will all soon be over.
And they're fucked.
Without lube.
Because all the Affirmative Action, all the food stamps, all the lowering of standards so that they can feel better about themselves (instead of bettering themselves), all the gerrymandered-ironclad-unassailable totally black voting districts, despite the slavish (no pun intended) devotion to "progressive" boilerplate had any appreciable, positive effect on this persistent scab of a sub-culture.
All the lofty rhetoric, all the fake moral posturing, all the set-asides, social passes, lavishly-funded-feel-good-but-accomplish-nothing tomfoolery simply created an infantilized segment of the population that had been so thoroughly degraded -- by design -- for the benefit of bureaucrats, politicians, and a self-selected elitist gentry that it is literally, at the very moment when it is most-necessary, unable to do anything productive in it's own interest.
Critical Race Theory is the logical terminus of a deliberate program of what Fred Reed once called "enstupidation".
Eventually, the standards of academia were lowered so low for the benefit of the lowest that it vomited forth a doctrine of envy, fear, hatred, and epic fucktard, so that after years of pulling down statues and renaming buildings to erase "the legacy of slavery", we end up creating a national holiday to commemorate it and a vast system of mental gymnastics given the veneer of academic respectability to excuse and obscure the obvious failures.
The payoff for this segment of the sub-culture has been a collegiate system that hands out diplomas and academic awards to people whose curriculum consisted of Crayons and Coloring Books, a lot of "Let's Pretend", protection from Math, Science and Logic, Professional Illiteracy, Cultural Ignorance, Historical Revisionism of the sort that would have made excellent fiction in another context, all of it taking place in a giant Day Care Center with a football team, financed by government loans that will never be paid back handed out because Black.
The Market responded to the influx of what is essentially "free" money, and provided a pathway to a watered-down-mostly-phony undergraduate degree in fucktard for the benefit of the loan-wielding fuckwit, and we're supposed to pretend as if a degree in Racial Theory or Black Studies is equivalent to one in Electrical Engineering, Chemistry or Computer Science, because we wouldn't want the monumentally (emphasis on "mentally") retarded to feel bad about themselves, would we?
Welcome to the New Plantation: in the future, the Scab -- even the one with a useless degree -- will be relegated to a lower social status than the Illegal Immigrant, outnumbered by the new favored pets of the left, and sitting in a cesspool of dire helplessness and hopelessness in a world where mere physical labor no longer matters, is no longer necessary, and the intellect becomes the primary key to advancement.
Congratulations! The left has successfully created a new Caste System and you helped them every step of the way. Enjoy the butthurt.
The ineffectual whining will maybe come to an end, finally.
Just for shits and giggles, if you want to know exactly when the Scab officially went on life support, I would choose August of 2005, when our television screens showed ten of thousands of them up to their armpits in overflowing sewers because the self-preservation instinct had been so thoroughly eroded within them that they depended upon someone else to evacuate/rescue them from Hurricane Katrina -- a storm we watched traverse the Atlantic for a week before landfall -- and their mayor lost his shit amid flooded buses that went unused in this regard, but the prisons were emptied and the Superdome became the temporary rape capital of America.
That was the exact moment the Scab began to circle the bowl. Now, we're just having the argument over when to finally bow to the inevitable and pull the fucking plug.
Anyway, on to other things.
The Overlord recently had a bit of a cancer scare. I am happy to report that I do not have cancer, after all. The ginormous growth at the back of my throat turned out to be the result of a virus (most likely a reactivation of chicken pox), and, to my surprise and chagrin, partly a FUNGAL infection.
I was dumbfounded. Fungus? In my mouth? What the ever-loving fuck?
Turns out it is a fairly common thing. Oral Thrush.
I will spare you the sordid - and disgusting -- details, but here's some advice on how to avoid it.
* Change your toothbrush more frequently. Also, ensure you clean all the toothpaste out of it after every use. You might want to nuke it in the microwave for 20 seconds once a week, too.
* Change your diet. A diet rich in breads, starches and carbs -- thank you, Mrs. Overlord! And damn your disgusting Irish heritage which demands potatoes with every fucking meal -- is basically asking for it.
* Brush, floss and use mouthwash more-frequently. My own regimen, it seems, of twice a day was insufficient. Gargle and rinse your mouth with warm saltwater frequently.
* Smoking makes it worse. The Overlord, under much stress this past year (as we all have been), saw his tobacco intake ramp up to two packs a day.
In other matters: I have finally deciphered the Snowflake Code.
For many years I have been confused and consternated by the gibberish and mental diarrhea of the typical 20-something. It was during a heated, work-related conversation with one of these doofuses that it finally dawned on me just why it is they don't understand The Spoken Word Used By Normal People (and I mean that for reasons other than pure nitwit and poor education).
They're not speaking to convey information; therefore, they are incapable of deciphering information that comes their way.
No, I've suddenly discovered that what the Extended Adolescents are doing is trying to convey poorly-understood, intensely-personal emotions that their own enstupidation process has left them powerless to examine and understand, and therefore, has rendered them incapable of explaining to another human being.
Now, once I've figured out how to use this new-found discovery efficiently and to my advantage, I'll fill you all in.
And, on a final note: Squirrels are fucking disgusting, bushy-tailed rats.
One of the better amenities here at the New Death Star is the enclosed, screened-in terrace. It is a wonderful place to enjoy that morning cup of coffee, that cigarette, that cool evening breeze with a vodka-tonic in hand. In addition, there are trees that are tall enough to obscure the view of my terrace from the streets below and the prying eyes of neighbors across the street.
The Overlord enjoys this feature the most, since he's anti-social and is also given to living in as complete comfort as possible, which means often spending a good portion of the morning (and sometimes late evenings) lounging about in only his underwear. Generally speaking, I'm barefoot around the house all day, so why not take it one step further?
As any man will tell you, there is no standard of personal comfort that quite matches the exquisite freedom that comes with traipsing about in naught but your tighty whiteys.
But, that has nothing to do with squirrels.
As to the rodents, the trees that hide my Underwear Haven from public view also serve as housing for the local vermin.
This morning, as I had my first cuppa just after dawn, in the cool morning air wearing nothing but my BVD's and mustache, what should I happen to see, right at eye level, but two squirrels perched in the fir tree outside the screen, engaged in sexual congress.
I shall spare you the grisly details, but there is this much to be said for squirrel sex: it's quick, it's messy and apparently this male didn't do it right. Had he been human, his mate would have hauled him off to a court and left with half his shit as dictated by an angry, frustrated feminist pretending to be a judge.
(Although far be it from me to assume the genders of any nut-gnawing nuisance)
For after the act had been completed (one hopes, for the sake of a fellow male), female squirrel turns and basically punches her sperm donor in the head, knocking him from his precarious coital stance (Squirrel style?), hitting several branches on his way down before finally coming to rest somewhere near the second floor in another tree.
And then I thought that even across species, bitches be trippin'.
No comments:
Post a Comment