All Hail The Legitimate King Who Just Killed His Way To Power: Part 5

In 1066 English King Godwinson was put in the big chair to replace King Edward who was dead. This was done by a counsel of “wise men”. So the succession is done right? Nah! Harald Sigurdsson, King of Norway wanted to have a little discussion about the matter. Harald had some sort of justification as to why he ought to be king. Among his arguments were a complicated family tree and terrifying abilities to kill. His boats landed eight months after the coronation. Harald unloaded his army and did what Harald normally did to announce his arrival. He began killing everything in sight. Godwinson was up against a legendary foe!

This wasn’t King Harald’s first rodeo. He’d been killing people since his opponent, King Godwinson, was a child. Unfortunately(?), it also meant he was old. King Harald wasn’t the complete death machine of his youth. He died in battle. His lifetime as an absolute boss (both in tactical prowess and athletically bludgeoning people to death) came to an end on English soil.

Harald, might have given England the most powerful (and terrifying) monarch it had ever seen. He was now “the corpse formerly known as Sigurdsson” and that was that. [In case you’re wondering, it’s not uncommon to be King of more than one Kingdom at the same time. King Harald’s prowess with cleaving skulls had built an impressive empire.]

History reminds me we are all mortal; even Harald. He was a Viking’s Viking; the ultimate bad ass. The kind of guy that would make us shit our pants if we saw him walking down the street. He’d take on anyone, anywhere, anytime, for any reason. He was less a man than a tank in human form.

Time always wins. When England was weak, Harald was too old to seize the opportunity. He tried and failed; he literally died trying.

Does any of this sound familiar to Americans in 2021? Can we think of a leader reduced to inadequacy due to age? Try this experiment; whip out Google and watch a speech by Biden from 20 years ago. I’ve done this. I’m not kidding about how it will affect you. Give yourself 5 minutes and watch him from any time from about 1990 to about 2010. The topic doesn’t matter. Watch his vocabulary, grasp of details, presentation, presence. I’m no fan of Biden but he wasn’t always a drooling shell. Then, watch a speech given by the man in 2021. Force yourself to watch it. Don’t listen to a talking head “journalist” summarize it, watch the actual man say actual words. It’s almost painful.

I end this post with a salute to King Harald. If he didn’t wind up in Valhalla, the place doesn’t exist. (Don’t bore me with blather about baptized Vikings… Harald went to Valhalla because that’s where hard core motherfuckers like him go.) Biden, meanwhile, was never tough enough to wash Harald’s codpiece. Biden’s Corn Pop story is what happens when a lying wuss wants to feel like Harald.

I’ll also note that Harald didn’t stroke out in a chair (like FDR) and King Godwinson didn’t dispatch him with a sternly worded letter. One died in battle and the other was there to make that death happen. Neither one called a “lid” and toddled off to get an ice cream cone.

So, was Harald’s claim to the throne valid? Nobody cares. He died.

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All Hail The Legitimate King Who Just Killed His Way To Power: Part 4

A thousand years ago Edward the Confessor was mostly regarded as a good English King. He kicked the bucket. Naive man that I am, I assumed he’d planned for a suitable heir he found somewhere in the inbred family tree. Thus, a mature and well trained offspring specifically and clearly designated by the King would take the throne. God I’m such a fool!

The English nobility formed a council of “wise men”. Their job was to manage the power vacuum and pretend to be sad about the King’s death. I’m sure deliberations of the “wise men” was as stupid, immoral, and corrupt as the jackoffs in our Congress. Just as our Congress can’t even shit out a mangled unbalanced budget once a year without shenanigans, the “wise men” did shady backroom deals too.

[Note: as of February 2022, Congress hasn’t managed to shit out a federal budget. The government is running under the latest in a series of continuing resolutions. This happens often, sometimes many years in a row. During eight years of the Obama presidency there were relatively few true budgets. In 2022 I’d guess there will be no budget until after the election.]

Merry old England’s “wise men” reached into an orifice and found proof that the King had made a deathbed designation. Just before he croaked he said he wanted Harold Godwinson to be his successor. What was the proof? “Shut up or we’ll kill you” was the proof.

That’s how Godwinson wound up on the throne. If you think it sounds fishy, you’re disloyal to the Monarch. Pissing off the King drives up your life insurance rates.

Not everyone was delighted with the “Godwinson was designated in a room where you weren’t present but trust us” explanation but they rolled with it. People of the time understood that things were corrupt.

Are there any analogies to compare to now? Sure!

Back when there was snow on the ground, some Americans complained about a possibly tainted election. In January 2021 they “petitioned government for redress of grievances” to address this issue. That right was originally written into the Magna Carta (1215). It percolated through English common law until it was copy/pasted to the American First Amendment (1790).

Predictably, the First Amendment right wasn’t honored. It’s 2021 and the law isn’t the law. Isn’t that what my study of history is trying to teach me?

So American citizens have a Constitutionally protected right to “petition for redress of grievances” with an 806 year precedent. Of course, their concerns were ignored. It’s 2021 so that’s a given. Also something like 725 citizens were arrested. That’s new to America but common in lesser nations; like Uganda or whatnot. America is not devolving to a lesser nation’s lack of law; it’s already there.

[Note: in 2022 the FBI was still seeking 350 individuals to add to the original 725 it arrested. Who are these three hundred stealthy supervillians? Shut up and watch your ass or it might be you! (See how that works?) I also did a quick Google search to find out how many political prisoners are still in jail in 2022. It wasn’t clear and Google wishes I’d stop asking before I’m put on another list. The best I got was about 70 are convicted and processed. The rest are rotting in jail.

Like any subject of an objectively dangerous totalitarian regime I used VPN and privacy tactics. I did this even through I was searching for legally obtainable data. Like any totalitarian dystopia, the fact that I (or someone) Googled that question has been logged.]

[Note: In case you’re wondering “the right to a speedy and public trial” is in the American Constitution’s Sixth Amendment (1790). If you think 13 months in the pen isn’t “speedy” enough you’re a terrorist. Seriously, Biden and the press have declared you a terrorist. Asshole! Now you might get shit on by social media, or your bank might lock your finances, or maybe you’ll just get fucked by the FBI. (See how that works?)]

Anyway, somewhere between 700 and maybe an eventual 1000 citizens indefinitely detained for at least a year is isn’t the same as King Godwinson’s power but it’s on the spectrum. I assume dungeons suck worse than prisons but at that point aren’t we splitting hairs?

No matter what anyone says, indefinitely detained is indefinitely detained.

It’s new to me that America has political prisoners. That used to be a thing for the Russians or Chinese or North Koreans. In 2021 it’s something America does. That’s because the election of 2020 failed.

[Note: In early spring 2021 all of this was still a bit of a “conspiracy theory”. As with most recent “conspiracy theories”, it’s now fact. To clear the air, the following things are true in 2022: nobody has been charged with the actual crime of insurrection, the FBI had informants crawling all over the event, no Government employee was harmed, some “petitioners” were shot and killed by Government employees, the only people who used weapons were Government employees, and most who were arrested haven’t had their day in court. I’ll add that it’s only my opinion that Mike Pence demonstrated that he’s a douchebag but that’s probably pure fact too.]

It’s all a bit annoying because I like laws with written words. I’d almost prefer it if Nancy Pelosi wandered down to the National Archives Building to see the actual physical Constitution, whipped out a marker, and wrote “the King can throw you into a dungeon if you piss him off”. Why not? That’s exactly what Biden has done. If there’s still room in the margins, Pelosi might add “if Covid makes us scared we can do any damn thing we want”.

The real point is this: the King is the King, because he’s the King. It doesn’t matter if he arrived based on a sketchy election in 2020 or some committee’s bullshit story in 1066.

Did the Edward the Confessor really designate Harold Godwinson with his last dying breath? Who the fuck knows? I doubt it. Regardless, it wasn’t a clean and obvious succession like in fairy tales. The “fact” that the King made a choice on his deathbed is somewhere between sketchy and possible but English subjects agreed with it because they knew the system was corrupt; unlike their counterparts in 2021 who are still in jail.

I slowly digest this. My American tendency to fret over an election that smelled fishy is catching up with the way things have always been. If they have thrown you in jail, then they can throw you in jail.

That’s depressing so I’ll continue the story in my next post.

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All Hail The Legitimate King Who Just Killed His Way To Power: Part 3

Pondering history has advantages but only if it’s distant. No politician in 2021 has a campaign speech with fake tales of swordsmanship during the Battle of Hastings (1066). Instead, every geezer in DC stood shoulder to shoulder with Martin Luther King. Mr. King, who actually existed, has become a placeholder in the invented memories (or fake stories) told to win votes. That’s why I look far back in time. I need to go so far back that it pre-dates Nancy Pelosi. The year 1066 just barely does it.

History has taught me a more realistic view of governance. The first notion that history shitcanned was that “lawful” succession is the normal way. I had the idea a King had such and such powers. Among them, the King could designate an heir and it was law. If the heir was a loser, tough shit! The King said so; thus it had to be. Holy Macbeth was I naive!

“Lawful succession” is total crap. The King is mortal. When he dies he’s a corpse. What happens next may be wise and stable succession as befits a reasoned and intelligent society. Or it may be a bloody shitshow. Sometimes elites and oligarchs really did their level best to follow a path that’s best for their society. Just as often, blithering idiots set society on fire so they could rule over the ashes.

Through it all, traditions, laws, and plans were made and ignored. Once the old King’s body is cold, the man who becomes the new King is up for discussion. Who “ought” to become King is irrelevant.

Also a leader’s powers are what they are, not what they’re supposed to be. A King’s powers are supposedly absolute but that’s bullshit. The King can do exactly what he can manage and not one inch more. If he’s strong and popular, his power is great. If he’s weak and stupid, his power is limited (possibly even nonexistent). None of this has to do with tradition, law, governing documents, or whatever remained after the Magna Carta (1214) was signed. It’s simply true.

Life isn’t fair; any leader, even a King, can be screwed over by chance. A lost battle or a plague is the same as a bad decision or moral flaw. An American president presiding over a recession usually gets hosed regardless of whether he is the cause. Alternatively, the only time I’ve seen a president defeated after fostering a roaring economy was in 2020. (One of many mysteries about 2020.)

The official narrative is irrelevant. The King is in charge right? Wrong! If the King sucks, he’s not in charge and everyone knows it.

If a King’s a moron or has an unfortunate mental defect (quite common in the inbred House of Habsburg) someone else is calling the shots. If he’s healthy but has a track record as a fuck up, everyone knows to work around him.

A bad King is just a loser with an expensive hat. We see the same in America in 2021. How much respect would you have if meeting Thomas Jefferson? How much would you have if meeting Joe Biden? How many orders given by Trump were faithfully and effectively executed by his employees? The conspiracy theory that the FBI was actively spying on him is now established fact. A king’s court may be a hive of liars and a modern bureaucracy may perform the same function.

Washington DC did everything it could to stop deplorable Trump from functioning as President. Now it does what it can to cover for decrepit Biden.

Who’s in charge if not the King? In 2021 nobody thinks Biden is running the show. The dude can’t manage… anything. Would you let Biden care for your infant? A puppy? A goldfish? Would you let him change a diaper? Could he compile your taxes? Would you back him in a poker game? Could he beat you in chess?

Biden couldn’t hold down a job as a pizza delivery man. Think about that! I mean just sit back and spend a full minute on that concept (use a timer!). The man is said to have gotten America’s record highest vote tally of all time. He’s the Commander in Chief of the armed forces. He’s neither physically nor mentally capable of holding down a job delivering pepperoni pizza. He can’t drive, he can’t walk, he couldn’t navigate, he can barely talk. He couldn’t handle the mental work to select five correct pizzas from the outgoing set and deliver them to the five matching addresses. He’d die trying to do it in twenty minutes. Nineteen year old minimum wage flunkies handle job tasks our “president” can’t manage.

Biden clocks out at a half day’s work and calls it a “lid”. Do you? We don’t let fourteen year old high school children skip class to take a nap. Biden does it and we pretend it’s normal. Tell your boss you need to cancel task because you “got tired” at noon. Do it several times a week. See how it plays out. The most powerful man on earth can’t manage the stress of your job; so who’s shouldering Biden’s stressful job?

Like some Kings at the end of their reign, Biden is closer to dead than alive. We all know that. Every time he’s speaks on live TV a staffer has a heart attack. I took for granted a long string of sentient people who did the job for which they’re elected. Our system usually does well. This time it failed.

A King who can’t even deliver a pizza is not running the kingdom.

History hints what happens when the King is a loser. When the King’s a placeholder maybe a local Bishop discretely pulls the strings. If he’s belligerent, a handful of Dukes and Earls might have a little talk with His Majesty about how he might have a hunting accident. If he raises taxes too much he might have a revolt on his hand. If the King is mildly incompetent it’s hidden by the court. If he’s massively incompetent, even the peasants know. If he fucks up beyond a certain point, regicide may become necessary. Sometimes everyone cheers when it happens. There’s no law of the universe saying the King is always competent. There’s no populace that respects a loser.

Back to succession, I once simply assumed the King’s eldest son was his heir. “Prince whomever of this or that inbred family” would become the King. That’s the rule. Follow the rule right?

Wrong! Someone winds up on the throne. Then it’s retroactively explained as “the way it had to be”. If a better or more legitimate candidate was fucked over because he was off on the Crusades or knifed in the back, that’s how it goes. Any complaints to that nature are unfortunate conspiracy theories which will get you kicked off social media.

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All Hail The Legitimate King Who Just Killed His Way To Power: Part 2

I’ve had a fabulous time sailing and camping. Nature provides the sanity we monkeys so desperately need. After a few days of sailing (with no more gopher interactions) I was relaxed and ready to reflect on what is becoming the second year of madness.

My thoughts turn to succession. One of the greatest strengths of America is that no president can screw up longer than eight years. (This wasn’t a problem until Franklin Delano Roosevelt welded his ass to the big chair. Thank God he finally died.)

Hmm… lets go on a tangent for a bit: FDR won his fourth term as an aging and physically frail man who hid his declining health from the populace. Toward the end he was barely able to perform his duties. Sound familiar? Does one suppose there’s anything we can learn about this in 2021?

Anyway, America created the 22nd amendment to limit any one person’s power. Taking action to limit dangerous (and successful) power grabs is what adults in functioning societies do. A republic (for those who understand the definition) can be stable.

Nothing is perfect. FDR’s twelve year, four election, powertrip, steamrolled the system. America rebounded but our system has, once again (hopefully temporarily), failed.

Something went amiss in November 2020. You know it. I know it. Everyone knows it. Even if you hate Orange man and got every political event you desired, you know it wasn’t clean.

We watched America’s every four years attempt to obtain “the consent of the governed” and assure peaceful succession fail. Don’t pretend otherwise. We all know it. The election failed to do what elections are supposed to do.

Does it have to burn us to ash? Maybe not. Bad succession is going to happen sometimes.

What’s great about history is that events of 1,000 years ago aren’t clouded by emotional bullshit of the participants. I get a clearer understanding of the succession following Edward the Confessor’s passing (1066, England) than I have of Nixon’s resignation (1974, United States). Nixon’s denouement is too close to the hearts of Boomers and “journalists”. Fond memories of when they were young and virile and righteously (?) ruining a man they detest are too delicious to fade to mere facts. Fifty years have passed but aging eyes see youth through rose colored glasses. Their heroic inner story has been told and retold until the details are worn smooth. It’s a symbolic koan that may be false recollection.

I am Gen X. I neither voted for nor protested against Nixon. It’s been 50 years and I’m absolutely sick of hearing the story. A handful of Boomers got high in the mud at Woodstock and somehow this defeated “the man” and now “the man” is that very group. All this is supposed to mean something to me. Why? I grew up in a different world. There was the shadow of complete nuclear annihilation, AIDS, the war on drugs, a shitty economy, cars that sucked, and the leviathan state was growing then too. Tie wearing mas transit riders in DC imposed a fucking 55MPH speed limit on every Wyoming rancher.

That’s my time. As every Gen X person knows, nobody gives a shit about my time. But it’s why I don’t fret over Watergate. The corruption I’ve seen in my life makes Nixon’s half assed spying seem pathetic. Hillary or Obama did more shit by breakfast than Nixon’s “Plumbers” pulled in a lifetime. Nobody cares. That’s the point, memories should be personal and not mass media product shoved up some other generation’s ass. I had a walkman, a mullet, and a truck that ran on leaded gas. They were all awesome… to me. It was a great time… for me. Nobody else cares and I know that. That’s why I don’t bitch at Millenials to genuflect to my world (which they never experienced).

The Nixon thing will be clearer when the Boomers are gone. Right now seemingly every damn one of them played a key role… in everything. Obviously, that can’t be true. Most folks were just going about normal lives. Nobody wants to admit they spent the “summer of love” working at a cement plant; so nobody tells that story.

Thus, events as fact are probably very different than the story’s feeling. In the story a “movement” defeated villainous Nixon. Who knows? I personally can’t imagine journalists as the good guys. I know they think they’re a force for good and maybe that was true 50 years ago but I just can’t see it. I don’t even have books with the truth of 50 year old events. Maybe if I live much longer than every Boomer, some brave historian will write an unbiased history. And maybe I’m a Chinese jet pilot.

[Editorial note: if what I said about recent history being bent, folded, and spindled in memories of the living seems odd, consider this: Joe Biden in January 13, 2022 made a speech where he fondly remembered his arrest during the civil rights movement. As far as anyone can tell it only happened in Biden’s mind.

A grown man telling stories at a podium about something that didn’t happen to people who don’t believe it. It’s creepy! Maybe I’m an outlier but I won’t even lie about the size of the fish I caught. When Biden tells barstool stories about danger-thug Corn Pop it’s as real as the news from Lake Woebegone.

While campaigning, Biden talked about black Americans in Wilmington Delaware in 1962 as if they were Kalahari Bushmen. He says children in Delaware in 1962 were fascinated by the golden hair on his white legs. Creepy! As if people in Delaware in 1962 hadn’t seen a white man? Delaware is not Nigeria.

Incidentally, I do enjoy the comedy gold of the Corn Pop story. It reminds me of Al Bundy’s “four touchdowns for Polk High”. Fictional Al was a shoe salesman loser who actually made the touchdowns. Real life President Biden was a lifeguard in Delaware. Over the years he’s elaborated his brief stint in a generic high school summer job into a gang war. It’s both hilarious and pathetic. As a teenager I sometimes stacked hay bales. Shall I make up a story about the bear I wrestled in the hay fields?

Anyone who makes up elaborate stories about high school is someone who peaked in high school. This was the point of Al Bundy’s touchdowns.]

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A Private Message To A Specific Commenter

This post has nothing to do with anything publicly displayed on my blog:

I recently got a comment from ATEMPORARYADDRESS@hotmail.com. I don’t want to respond to the actual address. God knows how much spam a response would generate. (In case you’re wondering, I’ve had very few spam and shithead comments over the years. Most of my readers are absolutely awesome! The vast majority of comments I get are positive, constructive, intelligent, and well meaning. It’s pretty inspiring really. Thanks guys.)

In lieu of a simple deletion I’m responding here. The comment was several hundred words to the effect of:

“I’m writing to ask you to help weed out BLOGGER WHO IS NOT YOU at URL so that he doesn’t tarnish our reputation on the alt right and we can maintain civil discourse…”

My response:

“Fuck you. I don’t care if BLOGGER WHO IS NOT ME is a raving shithead. I don’t weed out anyone. That’s the kind of woke cancelling bullshit that only glowing fuckheads advocate. If you have a comment about something I wrote, fine. If you think I’ll hassle someone else on your behalf, fuck off.”

It is my hope I never hear from ATEMPORARYADDRESS@hotmail.com again. Please forgive me if I annoyed my kind and intelligent readers by exposure to some bastard who has a hard on for BLOGGER WHO IS NOT ME.

That is all.

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All Hail The Legitimate King Who Just Killed His Way To Power: Part 1

The next few posts are from the past. I wrote the rough draft in the spring of 2021. I jotted it in a notebook on a picnic table while camping. I never posted it; until now.

It’s less than a year later, the half fleshed out theories and incomplete paragraphs became a poignant reminder of the time before 2021 had officially become a shitshow. There was hope. In the ensuing months, we were mistreated. Now we’re being told (ordered!) to forget the events we personally experienced. Don’t forget. Remember.

In 2022, it’s obvious that things will go full circle. That was not yet known in 2021.

In a few months or years people who were (are!) working up the nerve to put me up against the wall will “fix” their version of events. Last year they were unhinged; without limits. They enjoyed being part of a mob. Moral superiority was their drug and they mainlined that shit. They had a grand time. They ran amok and sought to crush anyone who disagreed. Now comes the crash. From their point of view it’s all falling apart. Thankfully, their “final solution” hasn’t come to fruition. The “other” still exists. I still exist.

Folks who never lost their shit over Covid remain. We’re the wiser, more certain, more rooted, more adult side of the equation. We never went mad. We didn’t harm other people. We didn’t wreck the economy or ignore the rule of law or fuck up kid’s lives.

Also, we didn’t die. We’re alive because biological reality didn’t match the panic. I didn’t get on my knees and pray to Fauchi for salvation. I was never the mask wearing toy of some nitwit Governor. According to every media report for two years, I should be dead. I’m not. I’m fine. My very existence repudiates their mad power grab. Your existence does the same. Whatever Covid was or is; submission to an all-powerful government wasn’t necessary to live. Many of us knew the difference between a virus and a magic spell. We weren’t driven mad. They completely lost their damn minds!

Their overreach is a stain they’ll try to wash out. They’ll invent excuses and tell themselves it never happened. They never sought to do evil. That was someone else. They never bullied and harassed. That was someone else.

They’ll build a wall between what they did and what they remember. Their actions caused harm and sought to force submission. They will tell themselves it’s somehow excusable. Grandpa who lived in Berlin in the 1940’s was never a Nazi. The person that ratted out Anne Frank had a very good reason. Witches were messing up the crops. The Constitution is irrelevant old words. If you’re scared enough you’re allowed to do anything.

The Nuremberg trials established the concept of “crimes against humanity”. One cannot excuse certain atrocities by saying one was simply following orders. Watch how this plays out post-Covid panic. They’ll explain that Nuremberg doesn’t apply this time. It’s different because current atrocities came from people who were simply following orders. Got that?

They’ll try to change the memory of events because the alternative is hard. It takes strength of character to know you’ve done evil or acted like an asshole. To accept your mistakes and seek to be a better person you need morality, humility, and strength. If you had morality, humility, and strength you wouldn’t have spent the last few years freaking out. Given their weak nature, they’ll seek an easier way. Yet another “shortcut” that avoids personal reflection and growth. Whatever malicious thoughts and deeds they’ve indulged in, will reboot in their mind as moral and acceptable.

They’ll lamesplain their new reality from an internal monologue. What we just experienced isn’t the truth. It’s misinformation. If it did happen, it’s minor. What isn’t minor, is forgivable.

“We eliminated the rule of law but it was only temporary. It hasn’t yet been restored but we will restore it any day now. We banned you from travel, jobs, banking, medical care, stores, schools, public spaces, and expressing your opinion, but that’s just an unfortunate miscommunication. The problem is that you wouldn’t get with the program. Submission is how you get freedom. When we crushed spirits and the economy alike it was an accident. Anyway it was months ago. We bear no responsibility and don’t admit it happened. We haven’t changed or faced consequences. But we’re better now. It’s all good. Right?”

In early 2021. I thought the year was likely to suck but I still held hope about alternatives. Maybe hope was denial. The writing was already on the wall. Most of America had hunkered down into one of two opinions; “this is going to suck like a proctology exam inflicted by a jackhammer” and “now that Orange man is gone, we can do anything we want and we intend to steamroll everything and everybody”. The middle ground was already gone; scorched earth. I grasped for a third way; was that just delusion?

In 2022, I have the benefit of hindsight. There’s no doubt; 2021 went to shit exactly like I woried it would. You saw it coming too. It sucked for you too. We knew what was coming and there was no escape. We simply had to take the hit. Our evasions or adaptations were, at best, only partially successful. When half the populace goes mad, the sane suffer too.

It could have been worse but could it have been better? In retrospect I don’t think so. The second year of 2020 is/was/and always will be a time of madness, instability, decline, and self inflicted misery. I speak not just of America but dozens of nations.

Did I write my draft as a battered Curmudgeon who understood that society was so fucked that he’d unavoidably take damage? Was it the bargaining stage of a man who knew he must endure misfortune? By spring, in God’s season of renewal, I knew in my soul that disaster was already a done deal. My hollow and weakened society showed every intention to piss the electric fence… and it did.

Society didn’t have to piss on the fence; it wanted to.

Is that why I never cleaned it up and posted it? I don’t know. I didn’t (and don’t) intend to dwell on the negative. It may help to reflect that “this has happened before”. It may help to know that the natural world is just fine. Only society is a wreck. If society crawls up its own ass, nature doesn’t notice and individuals don’t have to follow. The chaos that plagues our time is of the imagination. It festers in the minds of people who are panicked and stampeding but also quivering with the ecstasy of seized power. They were attracted to, and deeply enjoyed, their time in the sun. They inflicted sadistic punishments and loved every minute of it. Some profited from the mess. Others used it as a distraction from their boredom. Losers with failed little lives that set fire to the own world so they can feel some sense of excitement. Regardless, it’s all in the mind. The year of serial disasters wasn’t caused by a virus. It demonstrated a problem that already existed in the most fallen of humanity.

If you didn’t have TV and social media, you’d hardly know a thing called Covid exists. The Amish understood this was a problem of the mind and spirit. They bravely handled it head on. They passed through and beyond the “threat” in a matter of months. Manhattan laptop warriors lack the balls to follow the path strode proudly by simple farmers. Elites still writhe in a mix of vaccine passports and police oppression. They still hang on the words of Fauchi as if he’s got a track record of success. They chatter about whichever Cuomo is or isn’t fired. They crawled into a media cage and locked the door to keep themselves in. People who’ve always had the right to stay at home or wear a mask still beg the government to force it on them. “I can do this any time but I want you to force me.”

The Amish overcame in a fortnight that which has D.C., Vienna, Canberra, and Ottawa tied in knots. They are the sane ones. It is the 144th week of two weeks to flatten the curve. You don’t jail yourself for 3 years because you’re of sound mind.

I lack the Amish support network but I followed their path. You probably did too. I mourn those left behind. There are children wearing masks in third grade. Australia built concentration camps. The economy is a crater. I could not save them. I went camping.

By now only the most deluded think this is about a virus. We all know it’s caused by weak souls. Even the possessors of weak souls know it. Fearful Karens see demons. Hell comes to them from Facebook. Evil looks back from their own reflection.

I have never feared a witch. But in 2021 I saw witch burners destroy the innocent.

Here’s a ray of hope. All is not lost because stupidity is a human construct. The natural world is as it always was. Butterflies are still beautiful. The cycle of life was never interrupted. Summer cut firewood warms my toes in winter. I fish and sail on lakes that were crystalline in a previous season. Everything real is as amazing as ever. A gaggle of monkeys driven batty by aging demographics and social media is a rounding error to the Universe. Life is glorious.

The stars at night are there for anyone who chooses to turn off the TV and look. Most folks are terrified of the gorgeous night sky. Why fear the stars? Would they see God? Would they see what’s in their heart?

I reflect on these things to no clear conclusion. Collective self destruction eludes my understanding because I won’t participate. I can’t savor the emotional rush of joining a mob. I don’t want to burn a witch. I’ll never put a human in a cattle car. I refuse to forfeit my will. I will never do evil in the service of others. I will never have to stand before God or man and plead “I was simply following orders”.

The thing I wrote had positive options. But it was a path not taken.

I provide this and the following posts to you, that you might have some memory of what it was like 2021… before (in the political realm at least) it played out as a complete utter total clusterfuck.

I hope you like it.

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Widget Links

First of all, I hope y’all understand and have some sympathy for why I’ve left my blog on autopilot recently. It’s not just that I’m lazy. Winter is kicking my ass and I’ve got a million irons in the fire. Extreme weather burns too much of my limited time keeping pipes and chicken waterers thawed. Something had to give. The blog was volunteered to take the hit.

Sooner or later I’ll warm up. Then I’ll get my shit together and have time to generate more original posts. Don’t bail on me. I’ll be back!


Second, something went wonky with one of the endless updates to WordPress software. I have bits of code called widgets on the left side of my blog. Some are links to cool shit I like from Amazon. I get a small kickback from Amazon if you buy the items (or anything else) from those links.

With such a seemingly simple task it should be a no-brainer. However, the fluid world of the internet conspires against me. That’s one of the things I hate most about digital media. If I write shit on a piece of paper, it will still be there until I’m dead. If I write shit in bits and bytes and some wingnut in an office in a a different timezone barks the word synergy and my stuff gets scrambled. You’ve all experienced this in your lives too.

Apparently most of my widgets are “legacy” and they’re getting funky. (Yes “widget” is the the whimsical term the dipshits use. I can only assume someone with a business degree and excellent hair but no brain came up with that term. Is there something wrong with adult words like “code” or “plugin”? But I digress.)

Meanwhile, my browsers (yes, I use a variety of browsers, doesn’t everyone?) don’t necessarily display WordPress widgets in a way I can see them. Most of my browsers are set to eradicate advertisements on sight; which includes (ironically) my own links to Amazon. Note, if you’re not using some privacy based browser with paranoid and vicious settings stop reading right now and fix your shit. You don’t need data collectors crawling up your ass any more than I do. I like Brave but your mileage may vary. I use several different browsers. I also use VPS and various operating systems too. Remember this, loyalty to software is dumb.

This created a conundrum. I can’t see what I (or an update) might have fucked up because most ads are nuked before I know it. Thus, I can’t easily rectify the situation. (Chew on that logic. Because I can’t see the fuck up, therefore fixing it is hard. I’m pretty sure I share this trait with the president. I also like ice cream.)

This post is a diagnostic tool and storage place. I like all the links and don’t want to simply lose them. I decided to paste those old widgets to this new realm. Can you see them?

Eventually I’ll figure out a more efficient solution… possibly just dumping Amazon altogether or maybe some other idea. But this ought to hold the line while I go plow snow for the umpteenth time.

Stay warm!



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Spring Sailing 2021: Part 14: Rection!

[Today we come to the end of my little story about campsites and sailboats. The trip was peaceful but dragging the storyline over the threshold to live posts was chaos. What you’re reading was (mostly) typed last year, temporarily abandoned, and (once I started posting) ruthlessly interrupted by the realities of plumbing in January.

I end with a post brought to us by none other than the lovely Mrs. Curmudgeon. I’d planned a smooth transition from my writing to hers, but given the many interruptions I’m just going to drag the needle to the last track. (Those of you under 40 may wish to Google the mystery of record tracks and how needles work.) ]


[After a wonderful solo camping sailing trip, I met up with Mrs. Curmudgeon and we had a delightful road trip back home. During that trip we stopped off at a restaurant near a water park. Mrs. Curmudgeon overheard the following conversation and wrote it down to share. Every time I read it I laugh.]

A conversation between two young boys overheard in a family restaurant on my vacation:

“I saw you on the waterslide. You had a ‘rection. I saw it flappin’ around.”

“So? I like the waterslide.”

“You aint supposed to have ‘rection in your bathing suit.”

“Yeah, well you didn’t have to hit it!”

“Did too! Punched you in the boner. (sing-song) Ha ha ha!”

“That really hurt you sonfabitch! You should say sorry.”

“I’m not sorry. ‘Rection wasn’t supposed to be there.”

“Punching and laughin’ at me all the way down the waterslide didn’t help!”

“You want me to get Mom to help you waa-waa baby?

“Say sorry!!”

“I won’t!

“Oh yeah? I’ll punch you in the boner right now, then you’ll be sorry! You’ll never have a ‘rection again for the rest of your life!” (Scuffle & tussle, while dad is oblivious. He’s dealing with the baby and Mom is at the buffet getting food.)

“OWWW! (A little crying) That really hurts! You asshole!”

“So are you sorry now?”

“No.”

“You will be.”

“No! Stop! I’m sorry.” (more tears)

(Pause while they eat)

“It still hurts – bad. What if it’s broke? What if you broke my boner forever?”

“Jeez – you’re fine! It’ll stop hurting in a few minutes. Shut up.”

“Ok. But I am sorry I punched you in the boner.”

“I’m sorry too. Want a mini donut?”

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Spring Sailing 2021: Part 13: Bloggus Interruptus Continues

I’m almost done! The plumber is coming and I’ve got all the fittings. All I need to do is pull back this rug and…

Bleeeaaauuughhhggg.

Sigh, I had to buy an old farmhouse didn’t I?

Think. Think. Think.

Fuck it! Time to break out the wrecking bar.


For reasons which I’m sure y’all understand, blogging may be interrupted for a while. It is winter and these things happen. Pay no attention to the sounds of destruction reverberating off the sub flooring. Also, dream of summer. The lakes will thaw and so will I. Eventually…

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Spring Sailing 2021: Part 12: I Am The Beastmaster

The next day the sun rose too early for my tastes. On the other hand, I’d be controlling wildlife within the hour.

Hunched over the fire, I felt surly. During the day’s unavoidable period of pre-coffee crabbiness, a yuppie shithead couple showed up to occupy an adjacent campsite. None of my reaction to them was fair. I freely admit I had a bad attitude. They were probably nice people. In fact, my thoughts reflect worse on me than them. I’d labeled them “shitheads” simply because they were driving a new Subaru, dressed like an REI catalog, and were young and pretty. Plus they were checking into a campsite at dawn. Who does that? I’m usually so frazzled from life’s responsibilities that I limp into camp just minutes before dark. They had unintentionally checked all my internal biases and therefore my mood was malevolent.

They deployed an array of gadgetry that had nary a scratch or blemish; as if they weren’t actually camping but rather relocating a showroom from an upscale store. You could practically smell the scent of credit card on all their stuff. A handsome young fella’ was assembling an elaborate tent with the assistance of a pretty young lady. Clearly they’d never done it before. I hate complex tent setups. I hate pretty people. I hate ‘em even more before my coffee!

I tried to force myself into a better mindset. They were attired in shockingly brand new, hopelessly trendy, clothes but that’s probably more a reflection that I looked like shit. I hadn’t even packed clean clothes! (The same washing machine that failed in the middle of January 2022, had failed for it’s first time in spring 2021. It croaked just weeks after the initial purchase. I’d been getting the kind of slow moronic warranty service that makes you wish companies could die of cancer. The washer is a lemon! Note: the second breakdown is ongoing. Just like before they’re doing all they can to dither. They probably hope to slime across the one year warranty threshold. If a company that rhymes with Girlpool goes bankrupt I will be delighted because they sold me a white box of expensive disappointment.)

I looked like shit because my washer was broke and I hadn’t had time to stop at a laundromat. Through no fault of my own, I was cycling through clothes on the “this shirt is somewhat less dirty than that shirt” logic. At least I was camping solo. Who’s going to complain about a smelly redneck if he’s all alone?

Also, my camping gear is often shitty and occasionally well used and sometimes pure junk, but that’s generally my choice. I have the same option to buy new stuff any other person does. If other people want shiny new gear who am I to comment? They had done nothing wrong. My complaints were reflections of my own faulty self and not their behavior. I have reverse classism; I hate rich people. This isn’t fair and I admit it.

Well aware of my moral failings, I focused on the coffee. Coffee fixes all.

As it percolated my mood improved. Was I not the king of the seas with my little boat? Wasn’t I camping? Any time you’re camping and the weather isn’t actively miserable you should be happy. Who am I to even have an opinion of others? We could happily coexist by never interacting. I resolved to be a better person.


Many established campsites have what I call “ghetto critters”. These are animals that use campers as a source of food. An animal that pursues “camp food” instead of natural sources is impertinent, hazardous, and should be corrected either through gentle pursuasion or outright death. Which critter occupies this niche varies from place to place. It might be chipmunks or jays (often called “camp robbers”) or squirrels or raccoons or whatever. This time it was something new. This campsite had aggressive begging gophers. Gophers seems weird to me but new places entail new experiences.

One of them was heroically brave (and annoying). This particular ground squirrel gopher critter made a run at my post-oatmeal dessert cookie! I snatched it away before he could get it but I damn near lost a cookie!

I’m more accustomed to wilderness than Parks. Wilderness animals know they’re dealing with wilderness campers… wilderness campers do not put up with shit! So this was all new to me. I had never before experienced aggressive park gophers. I didn’t like the cheeky bugger and he was pushing my buttons. In an ideal world you’d whip out a shotgun and vaporize the little cretin. Sadly, that’s not allowed in parks. I shoulda’ brought a pellet gun I guess? All I had was a stick.

He made another run at my cookie and I nearly whacked him with the stick. He was fast but I was angry. He zoomed up the picnic table and eyed me at chest level; as if he were sizing me up. Shit was getting serious. I do not like my coffee being interrupted. I don’t like being challenged.

“Try it ya’ little bastard.” I hissed.

He didn’t back down. So that’s how it was going to be! I don’t take crap from humans and I sure as hell don’t take it from animals… I’ll throw down with a fuckin’ gopher if necessary.

He looked me in the eye. I glared right back. There was a 2’ gap between us. He could probably jump that far. I could probably get a base hit off that kind of pitch. It was a tense standoff.

Part of my rational brain knew this was nuts. If I wound up with my face all scratched up because I got in a fight with a four ounce gopher I would officially be a supreme dumbass. The other part of my brain hadn’t had enough coffee and was ready to sort things out with a bloody gopher massacre. That’s just me; until that first cup is done I’ll gladly get in a fistfight with a grizzly.

I maintained eye contact. Most animals don’t like extended eye contact. They’ll shy away. This little gopher had zero fucks to give. I was rather impressed.

“Why don’t you terrorize the Gander Mountain showroom down there?” I motioned at the adjacent site which had been the earlier focus of my unfair ire.

The critter chirped and flashed out of sight. Huh! That wasn’t the resolution I expected. Go figure?


Relaxing, I returned to my coffee. Man, I definitely need to chill out. I was willing to get into a death match with a rodent over a cookie? What’s up with that? (Admittedly it was a Pepperidge Farm Milano. Those ‘aint cheap and I love Milanos!)

Chuckling to myself at my own inner failings I settled back into my chair. I tossed the stick on the fire and opened a second package of cookies. I should learn to…

A shriek pierced the air!

In the campsite next to me, the yuppie girl was going absolutely berserk. The young man (presumably a new husband) was standing there totally baffled. He had no idea what to do. Apparently she’d been changing in their recently erected dome tent when… you guessed it… a gopher somehow got in the tent with her.

The tent shook and contorted as wife and gopher did several laps within the finite limits of fabric geometry. Neither she nor the gopher managed to find the door and so the cycle continued and built upon itself. The fellow was trying to zip open the door but all hell was breaking loose and he couldn’t find it the zipper.

Meanwhile, the tent was subjected to forces no engineer had anticipated. It was like it had a thunderstorm inside the tent! I was impressed how deformed it could get and still spring back into shape. She carried on like she was being fed into a woodchipper and the tent kept shaking until the guy got a hold on the zipper and yanked the door wide open. (Sadly, the door was facing away from the leering redneck in the adjacent site.)

Zoom! There was a flash of brown as the critter tore off. I couldn’t tell if it was carrying a prize. Perhaps it had seized a treat originally sourced from Whole Foods?

It took all I could do to hold my laughter back. To my credit, I made not a peep. I just poured more coffee and enjoyed the moment. I have no way of knowing which critter had done what thing, but I like to think the gopher who’d challenged me for my Pepperidge Farms Milano had followed my exact instructions and attacked the target I’d suggested.

After that colorful morning, I went sailing and had a fabulous day.

A.C.

P.S. Around noon I beached at a small rocky shore miles away. I stopped there for lunch and by gosh there was a gopher there too! This one was far less aggressive. I avoid encouraging bad behavior in animals but I couldn’t help but think a gopher had voluntarily done my bidding that very morning. I left a potato chip for this, his more rural cousin. If I contributed to a critter’s delinquency I apologize to the universe. It simply felt right and proper to pay for a service rendered. Team gopher had given me a fine show with the exploding tent just a few hours earlier, I repaid it over lunch.

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