Tag Archives: Communists

The liberator

VERY INTERESTING video. Author and filmmaker Laurence Jarvik speaks for an hour on the Trump phenomenon. Among other themes, he points out that Trump is neither Democrat nor Republican but another thing altogether.

Trump is a deprogrammer of the American mind.

Sowell’s wisdom

Sowell

(Today, we hand The Moon over to a guest columnist, one of the world’s most intelligent men, Thomas Sowell. Since Sowell is black, if you take issue with anything that follows, you are a racist and not fit for civilized company.)

* * * *

Random thoughts on the passing scene:

One of the problems with being a pessimist is that you can never celebrate when you are proven right.

If what you want from politicians are quick and easy answers, someone is sure to supply them, regardless of which party you follow. History can tell you where quick and easy answers lead. But, if you don’t want to bother reading history, you can just wait and relive its catastrophes.

What is “economic power”? What can Bill Gates stop you from doing?

I don’t understand how people who cannot predict the weather five days in advance can predict the climate decades from now.

One of history’s painful ironies is how often people on the brink of disaster have been preoccupied with trivialities. With a nuclear Iran with intercontinental missiles looming on the horizon, our intelligentsia are preoccupied with calling achievements “privilege” and playing other word games.

Of life’s many surprises, encountering an old flame, years later, is in a class by itself.

Some people seem to think that Donald Trump has great abilities because he is a billionaire. But being born rich and getter richer is not exactly a Horatio Alger miracle.

Of all the disheartening signs of the utter ignorance of so many American college students, nothing so completely disheartened me as seeing on television a black college student who did not know what the Civil War was about. Fifty years ago, it would have been virtually impossible to find a black adult, with even an elementary school education, who did not know what the Civil War was about.

Global warming, due to greenhouse gasses, is the latest in a long series of one-factor theories about a multi-factor world. Such theories have often enjoyed great popularity, despite how often they have turned out to be wrong.

One of the most richly rewarded skills in politics is the ability to make self-interest sound like idealism. Nowhere is this tactic more successful than in so-called “campaign finance reform” laws — spending restrictions that prevent challenger candidates from buying enough publicity to offset the free publicity that incumbents get from the media.

At one time, it seemed as if the free world had defeated the world of totalitarian dictatorships twice — first the Nazis and then the Communists. But, with the slow but steady expansion of government control over our lives and the spread of the idea that people who deny “climate change” (are) criminals, it seems as if totalitarianism may be winning, after all.

People who want to redistribute wealth often misunderstand the nature and causes of wealth. Tangible wealth can be confiscated, but you cannot confiscate the knowledge which produced that wealth. Countries that confiscated the wealth of some groups and expelled them, destitute, have often seen the economy collapse, while the expelled people became prosperous again elsewhere.

Some people think that Ted Cruz would not have as good a chance against Hillary Clinton as would Donald Trump. They say that Cruz does not have a sparkling style of speaking. But, after months of hearing childish insults from Trump, the public may be ready for some serious adult talk by someone with substance, who can cut right through Hillary’s shallow evasions.

To me, beautiful music is whatever music makes you glad to be a human being, whether it is “Musetta’s Waltz” from “La Boheme” or “Muskrat Ramble” from New Orleans. Much of what passes for music today makes me wish that, if there is such a thing as reincarnation, I can come back as a dolphin.

Republican leaders seem to be worried that Donald Trump will get the nomination and lose the election. Those of us who are not Republicans should worry that Trump will get the nomination and win the election. After all, the fate of the country is a lot more important than the fate of a political party — and in far greater danger.

As this country continues to degenerate, we hope that it never reaches the desperate stage where only a military coup can rescue it from catastrophes created by feckless politicians. But, if that day ever arrives, we can only hope that the military will do their duty and step in. It is one of the few institutions dedicated to something besides individual self-interest.

Kitchens, Commies, etc.

kitchen

WHEN THE pastry workshop was completed in February, we thought all was done, but it decidedly was not. There was the matter of the stove.

We had purchased what seemed to be a serviceable stove made by Whirlpool, but it was anything but serviceable. The oven would not hold a constant temperature. Finally, after numerous visits by Whirlpool “technicians,” a woeful misnomer in this case, the store where we bought it — Coppel — took it back and refunded most of the money.

Bizarrely, we learned the oven has no thermostat. How can an oven have no thermostat? Apparently, this is becoming more common, which explains the new models that have no temps on the dial, just temperature ranges, or they simply say 1, 2, 3, 4.

An oven with no thermostat is like a car with no steering wheel.

So off we went to Liverpool in the state capital, spent almost three times the cash, and two weeks later we had a lovely appliance called i/o Mabe, which is the high-end line of the popular Mabe brand. It has many bells and whistles, and my wife is happy.

The i/o Mabe has a thermostat.

* * * *

New website

I have combined and edited the three-part series from some days back called Newspaper Days, made it one website, and added it to the Bookmark list in the right-side column. FYI.

* * * *

Election approaches

On June 7, we Mexicans go to the polls, the midterms. One of the many sweet aspects to being a Mexican citizen is that I can vote, canceling out the time and trouble at least one Mexican leftist takes to mark his ballot. This is swell. I wish I could cancel out even more than one.

There are 10 official political parties in Mexico, which is both good and bad. The bad is that we risk becoming like Italy. The good is that it’s fun to have options.

I read the official websites of most of them, skipping only the Workers Party because you don’t have to be a rocket scientist to know where a party stands when its emblem is a yellow star in a Red circle and the Institutional Revolutionary Party (PRI) because I am already familiar with it. The oligarchic PRI ran Mexico for about 70 years, stifling opposition.

pan-logoI am a PAN man, the National Action Party. This is the long-time conservative party, and I only deviate from it (to the PRI) in special cases. I voted for PRI’s presidential candidate, Enrique Peña Nieto, three years ago because the PAN candidate stood no chance, and I did not want the leftist PRD candidate to win.

Our political parties contain some odd birds. The Encuentro Social are evangelicals. The Humanistas are, of course, Humanists. Perhaps the strangest of all is the Green Party, which is actually an arm of the PRI. The international Green movement excommunicated our Greens some years back because our Greens supported the death penalty for kidnappers.

Our Greens have backtracked on that, now advocating life prison terms for kidnappers instead of execution. I prefer execution. Color me old Mexican Green in this detail.

The Greens will promise absolutely anything. Free schooling. Free medicine. If it sounds good, they promise it. It’s outrageous. They have chutzpah.

A relatively new party is the Morena, the brown people’s party. Morena means brown-skinned in Mexico. It is the invention of the perpetual loser, Andrés Manuel López Obrador, commonly known as AMLO. He is a demagogue who has bounced about in different parties, and now has formed a new one, a blatant racial call since 90 percent of Mexicans are brown

May he continue his losing streak.

* * * *

Drawing Mohammed

Let us now turn to the Mohammed cartoon contest, which I supported. It was appalling to see so many talking heads, even on the right, including my man Bill O’Reilly of Fox News, going wishy-washy on Pamela Gellar’s courageous contest in Garland, Texas.

David Frum, writing in The Atlantic magazine said this:

mohammed“When vigilantes try to enforce the tenets of a faith by violence, then it becomes a civic obligation to stand up to them.” 

And Charles C.W. Cooke, writing in the National Review:

“There can be only two possible outcomes to this fight: Either Americans will eventually learn that they should not provoke radical Muslims, and thus that self-censorship is the order of the day, or radical Muslims will learn not to be provoked. Whether they have intended to or not, those who have proposed that Pamela Geller and her ilk should voluntarily refrain from provoking Islam’s discontents have run the risk of tacitly endorsing the former outcome.”

Let us continue to provoke them. And shooting them dead when appropriate.

The young organizer

THIS RECENTLY discovered video shows the young Barry, in his mid-30s, delivering a talk on his book Dreams from My Father. It’s long, almost an hour, but well worth the watch.

It’s very revealing. It shows how very smooth the man is.  Of course, he’s long had a reputation for eloquence, something I utterly fail to see. I find him quite wooden. But here, not being president or even running for office, he’s more natural.

His racial conflicts are clear. A perceptive observer easily concludes that he’s not comfortable with having white grandparents. He obviously identifies with his black half, not the white. I have a theory about mixed-race people, especially when the two sides are such stark contrasts. My belief is that these people have a big bunch of inner turmoil.

Everybody wants to belong to a tribe, to feel they have “their people.” It’s our nature. This can be manifested in many areas, occupationally, economically, educationally, nationally and, of course, racially, perhaps the most blatant, certainly the most visually obvious.

My tribe is white Southern American Gothic, subset of educated and above-average smarts.

What is Barry’s tribe? Hawaiian, Indonesian, black, white, American, Kansan, Chicagoan? He seems not to know, but for whatever reason, he’s chosen the black tribe which comes with loads of baggage, especially in the United States.

This confusion led Barry into radicalism. He refers in the video to a man named Frank in Hawaii “who schooled me.” Frank, it turns out, was Frank Marshall Davis, an angry, black, journalist, poet and labor activist and, according to some, a communist. At least the FBI kept an official eye on him.

Barry’s life, as we all know but many choose to ignore, has lots of links to unsavory, left-wing, sometimes violent, extremists: Davis, Ayers, Alinsky, Wright, et al.

America these days is awash in racial and sexual conflict and adolescent attitudes. As America anguishes ad nauseam about who is racist and who is not, who is sexist and who is not, who is anti-gay and who is not, the shrinking world beyond its borders spins increasingly out of control.

This will end badly.

I’m reading Dinesh D’Souza’s informative book America: Imagine a World Without Her. Let’s look briefly at two words that D’Souza focuses on: guilt and theft.

America feels guilty about its slavery days.* This was the primary reason Barry was elected twice to the presidency. His economic policies are based on the leftist notion of theft. Wealth is a zero-sum proposition. The successful have what they have due to its being stolen from the less successful.

Thus, redistribution, “fairness” and the infamous “You didn’t build that remark.

To these people, wealth is not created. It is simply stolen. Indeed, Barry’s conflicted worldview runs counter to liberal democracy, wealth-creating capitalism, and liberty.

The video is an hour well spent. He’s mighty smooth.

* * * *

* Slavery has existed through most of history across wide swaths of the Earth, and it still exists today, especially in the Middle East and Africa. It was hardly a phenomenon restricted to the American South or even to white owners. Indeed, 19th century American slavery was enabled by African blacks who captured and sold rival Africans.

Nearby communists

workers

I’M NOT A FAN of communists and yet here they are just down the road.

Mexico has a number of political parties, and what you see displayed here is the Workers Party, a phrase that invariably refers to communists. They lack subtlety. The yellow star on the red background is a dead giveaway. It’s an emblem you might have seen on Mao’s Long March or on Ché Guevara’s beret.

As Winston Churchill said: Socialism is the philosophy of failure, the creed of ignorance and the gospel of envy. The good news is that our commies have never come close to a big election win in Mexico. Pray that it stays so.

Souvenirs of Mérida

Merida

WALKING PAST the living room this morning, I noticed how sunshine through the big windows fell on these little framed prints that we purchased last January in Mérida.

They were about the only souvenirs we brought back from the Yucatán, not being big souvenir people. And they were not purchased so much as souvenirs as they were purchased because I liked the three little prints.

One is an old woman just sitting. Another is a woman washing clothes in a big pot over a fire. The third is an old couple sitting on a concrete love seat. We spotted those concrete love seats in many parts of Mérida, in parks and plazas. I have never seen them anywhere else.

One evening we were walking the nice, dark streets near the Casa Alvarez, the downtown guesthouse where we stayed in a penthouse room, very nice place to stay if you’re ever in Mérida, by the way, and we happened upon a bunch of shops and restaurants abutting a plaza.

That was where I found these three prints, which I bought immediately. They were cards really. Perhaps there was a place for an address and stamp on the back. I don’t recall. But if you put most anything in a frame, it rises to any occasion with a new-found elegance.

They are hanging now next to the stone fireplace in the living room.

It was my first — and last — extended stay in Mérida, but it was not my real first. That happened back around 1975 when I was working on the San Juan Star  in Puerto Rico. The newspaper’s union, run by a pack of pinche communists, went on strike, and it looked to be a lengthy one.

The devil, I said to myself, so I packed my bags and got on a plane to Haiti. After a few days in Haiti, I got on another plane to Mexico City. That flight first landed in Mérida, and everybody on the plane was hustled off to get shots against any Haitian cooties we might be carrying into Mexico.

I never got out of the Mérida airport that day, but it did count as a visit to the Yucatán, I think.

Mérida is an okay place, a nice Colonial city that looks pretty much like all Colonial cities in Mexico, something I wrote about shortly after returning home from that trip. It’s quite touristy and very popular among Gringos who are smart enough to move across the Rio Bravo.

I could never live there due to the climate. I have sweated enough in my life. And there are no mountains. Living without mountains is like eating a pizza without anchovies. It’s no pizza, a sham, a joke.

It’s midday now, and the three framed pieces have moved into the near-constant, cool dimness of the living room where they will not be very noticeable until tomorrow morning, assuming it’s not overcast.

Amazing how three postcards can inspire this many words.

Bazookas, Black Hawks, barbecue

BILLY BOB Pickering hoisted the bazooka to his shoulder when he saw the Black Hawk helicopter heading his way.

BushmasterBubba Thornton stood at Billy Bob’s side with a Bushmaster nine-millimeter, fully automatic, the kind of peashooter that gives Nancy Pelosi the vapors and makes her want to wash the feet of illegal aliens for Easter, which she actually did do. Neither of our boys’ weapons were legal, strictly speaking, but they really didn’t give a sticky chaw of Bloodhound Plug about that.

Bubba and Billy Bob had gone to junior high together. They had almost finished high school when they dropped out to serve together in Vietnam, which means the boys were not young. They were old boys who had killed lots of communists.

On hearing about the federal government mistreating a rancher in Nevada, Billy Bob and Bubba tossed the bazooka, the Bushmaster and lots of Budweiser into the bed of Bubba’s old Studebaker pickup and hauled out of Tupelo, heading west. They drove straight through.

And here they stood on this hot day atop dry scrub land in Nevada, the kind of dirt where you need plenty to graze enough cattle to make a living. The rancher’s family had done that for 100 years, and now here come federal cops to put a stop to it all, which was not right.

All because of some gol-durned endangered tortoise that can’t hold his own.

Billy Bob and Bubba had not gunned down little, slanty-eyed communists to live in this sort of Tom-fool America.

Billy Bob and Bubba watched the Black Hawk approach. Flap, flap, flap. Written in big letters on the side was BLM. Billy Bob triggered the bazooka and watched the Black Hawk explode. The two boys gave one another a high-five, and there were huzzahs from other hillbillies nearby.

The following week they were charged namelessly with a hate crime because the helicopter was black. The Studebaker, however, had barreled back to Tupelo, and Billy Bob and Bubba told a great story over Budweisers at LouAnn’s Barbecue Shack out on Highway 6.