I’m old enough to remember the Watts riots in L.A., Detroit. Rodney King? And a multitude of others. And something has always bothered me:
WHY do these folks feel the need to violently destroy THEIR OWN NEIGHBORHOODS to make a point?
In days of yore, I participated in protests. I remember one at the State Capitol, wherein we stood in the Summer heat (all 250 or so of us) to protest The Clinton so-called ‘Assault Weapons Ban’, and our own State legislature considering similar legislation. This was in the 90’s – the temperature was around 100°.
And not one of us engaged in violence, criminal looting or destruction. We had been advised not to come armed, and we didn’t. We carried signs (and American flags), signed petitions, talked amongst ourselves and drank lots of water. And listened politely to speakers like Sheriff Mack. And watched media trucks circle us deciding whether or not we were worth a spot on the 10 o’clock news.
Apparently we weren’t.
Here’s one opinion as to why they foul their own nests:
The borderline-Jacobins at Slate, who believe spanking is child abuse, and personal responsibility is out of fashion, try to explain looting away as a social phenomenon: “Why would anyone burn down the only CVS in their neighborhood?”
The reason, I think, is likely the same reason that poor black Americans in cities across the country burned “their own” neighborhoods in the late 1960s:
They did not experience those places as their own. Then, like now, police brutality was a precipitating cause of the violence, but it was the long-term experience of the indignities of the ghetto that gave shape to the riots. Then, like now, commentators compared the rioters to animals who had run wild and needed discipline. Rioting, to these bystanders, was not proper political protest but the criminal actions of poor people who merely wanted to grab what they could for free. This narrative, which I heard throughout my childhood growing up in Baltimore in the 1980s, put the blame not on the depredations of the ghetto, but on the character of its residents. It completely misapprehends the political economy of our poorest neighborhoods.
In other words: they riot because society has ignored them. Not only is that a specious argument, but it also highlights the fact that Baltimore hasn’t had a Republican mayor since 1968. So which party is responsible for ignoring the downtrodden social class?
Told another way, Abraham Miller at National Review wrote:More @ Red State
…well, more problems with my 2000 Oldsmobile Intrigue!
I was running an important errand for roommate J. evening last (well, going to a soft ice cream emporium for
pumpkin pie blizzards appropriately healthy treats!), when I noticed the car was running kinda doggy. And the battery light on the dash lit up – as did some other miscellaneous lights. And even seeing the lit dashboard was becoming a challenge…!
All this while in line at the DQ!
Fortunately (or perhaps, unfortunately) this is about 1/4 mile South of our residence.
So I limped her home in the dark, lights and engine in various states of fail, praying for her not to die in the street. And for no constables to be patrolling nearby. And my prayers were answered!
I was able to coax her to just outside our respective marked covered parking spaces. Emphasis on the just.
And there she died.
I attempted to physically push her into my space, being the fat cripple I am, and failed miserably. And the area directly behind the parking spaces is a private drive – a road – wherein traffic has been known to travel. So I couldn’t just leave her there! The H.O.A. would have her towed probably before my key hit my lock.
So, I called J., my roommate, landlady, and friend, who was lounging inside awaiting her
Blizzard healthy snack. Thank the gods for cellular telephones.
She responded tuit suite, and together we pushed my Intrigue into my space. Again kinda.
She’s difficult to maneuver with no power steering, and two persons-of-our-vintage with various physical issues don’t help much, either. J. had to retreat because of her asthma and move HER car to a different space so mine can sit comfortably – albeit diagonally – across our two allotted spaces.
Next, the problem of diagnosing what exactly is wrong, and coming up with the money to fix her.
SIGH – it’s always something!
At least she’s not on the street! :-)
AND, about an hour later, there was enough juice to close the driver’s window and secure the vehicle! HUZZAH!
When I was growing up, I wanted to join The Boy Scouts. They seemed cool, but, I was too young. There was The Cub Scouts, though! And one could evolve into a Boy Scout from there. I convinced my parents I should join.
I think I was in the Fourth Grade. I became a Bobcat, a newbie. My parents never even sprung for a full uniform, just the shirt, bandana and cap. And I had to walk about a mile to my den mother’s house on meeting days. At least I got to hang with other boys my age, and we sometimes did cool stuff.
But, soon, my den mother moved away, and no provision had been made for us to transfer to another den. By default, I left. No Boy Scouts for me!
But one of my fondest memories of The Cub Scouts was the Scout Oath. Not the solemnity or the promise. The language.
In the early 60’s, the counterculture wasn’t yet tipified by the hippie. It was the beatnik that brought societal scorn. As typified by the character Maynard G. Krebs on The Dobie Gillis Show. (the G stood for Walter, it was silent!)
When something was mainstream, whitebread, uncool, the beatnik said it was SQUARE.
And The Cub Scout Oath (of that era) was:
I, _________, promise to do my best
To do my duty to God and my country,
To be square, and
To obey the Law of the Pack.
Now, sometime after 1964, the changed the oath to read to help other people, instead of to be square.
I wonder if that was because every boy jack of us said the oath as follows:
…To be a square…
Not really comprehending what being square meant.
Being on an extremely limited disability income, I sometimes (often) find myself in a financially uncomfortable situation. Often a week or more before my stipend is due to arrive. I wish I could say it was because of extravagance, but more often than not it’s because of a math error.
Fortunately, I am sometimes assisted by my friends. I am most blessed.
And yes, today, I AM SQUARE.
I AM ALSO A SQUARE! I need one of these!
I don’t wish to lose my curmudgeon membership status, but, it’s true!
This past week was replete with increased car difficulties, coupled with my ongoing computer/internet problems. The car stuff still exists, but (for the moment) she still runs.
I FINALLY appear to have found a technological combination which works to make my new (old) borrowed laptop work less-buggy.
Will wonders never cease?
This is the first day in many I’m able to check my emails, do my blog and read others’ news and blogs without difficulty.
Perhaps now I can go about the ‘business’ of blogging and keeping up with the blogosphere better!
And, there remains a new puppy with which to play, AND, my roomie recently upgraded her cellular telephone, which means I now have her ‘old’ one – a Samsung Galaxy Note 3!!
CAN YOU SAY GRATITUDE AND PATIENCE? (I knew you could!)
Got up ‘late’ (0730!), something I never do. Okay, rarely, now that I’ve done it.
Went to work on the blog – except I couldn’t get the @&-+=#&! computer to work!
AND THIS IS THE ‘NEW’ HAND-ME-DOWN’ COMPUTER!
Sorry guys. No quote, funny, beauty or video this morning…
Thank God for my cell and the puppy!
Obviously, the goal is to turn on the computer (or awaken it) and have it go to the correct page, and do what is asked for it to do, not unlike turning on the TV and having Edmus Scary’s Late Nite Horror Show with Plan 9 From Outer Space showing, as one intended.
If you’ve been reading me for over a month,
seek professional help. you know I’ve been having issues with browsers and such. I finally found one that seems to work, and have added security and malware programs, and things have been better, BUT…
NOW, I find I cannot post comments on
BLOGGER-based blogs certain BLOGGER-based blogs! I do the set-up, my identifiers, hit enter and poof – the posts magically disappear!
I’m having ‘issues’ with three or four blogs, but the most difficult is one of my daily readers, who comments on GiA almost daily, Rev. Paul of Way Up North. It’s most distressing and embarrassing as he is not just a fellow blogwriter, but a friend! Apologies to another friend, Lagniappe’s Lair (Murphy’s Law) as well, for the same issues!
If you’ve not seen a comment from me as of late, and use Blogger, THIS is why!
I’ve had problems with BLOGGER, before. It’s why I now blog on WordPress.
Ah, BLOGGER, my old friend,
I’ll chase him ’round the moons of Nibia and ’round the Antares Maelstrom and ’round perdition’s flames…no, that’s not it…
I’m using Comodo IceDragon as a browser; Windows 7 Home Premium, WordPress as a blog publisher; security by Malwarebytes, Comodo, Kasparsky, and Windows. Add-ons include DoNotTrackMe, Ghostery, and PrivDog. Any suggestions?
Anyone else having ‘issues’ posting comments on specific Blogger accounts?
BUREAUCRATIZLLA STRIKES, YET AGAIN!
First, my private disability insurance. I have a small stipend in addition to my Social Security disability, which comes from an insurance company policy I purchased when I was employed. It’s not much, but it IS something! I had to fight to keep it a couple years back, because they didn’t bother to read their own files. Recently, I received a letter from them stating they had not received copies of my medical records they requested from my primary care physician. And they threatened cutting off my benefits unless I pushed this issue with the doctor. Just in time for the holidays! After much back-and forth, it was determined the doctor HAD sent the records, AND, the insurance company DID receive them. THE SAME DAY the form letter went out to me! So (for the moment) all is well with my private insurance. (I’m reminded of Dave’s Law of Banking – the insurance company corollary – Insurance Companies are not in business to serve you. They are in business to make money! The didn’t build the John Hancock Tower by giving it all away.)
Second. I live in a townhouse. There are two (covered) spaces assigned for each homeowner. Everyone else is to park in the uncovered spaces, which are plentiful. My roomie (the homeowner) occupies both spaces, as is her right. Traditionally, I park five spaces to the North, in the uncovered area. No biggee, right? It should be noted that I parked in this very same space before I lived here, as a frequent visitor, for the past 10 years! There was never any problem.
NOW the (almighty) HOA (homeowner’s association) has taken it upon itself to ‘cite’ me for being a resident parked in a visitor space!
Seriously? And they have threatened me with being towed if I continue to park there!
The townhouse HOA here is very poor. The exterior (their bailiwick) needs paint, maintenance, upkeep. There is a beehive residing outside my bedroom window, making it’s way into the eaves!
But they spend their time harassing tenants and collecting their monthly HOA fees. And don’t get me started on the rear fencing!
I was ‘cited’ the same day I received the insurance company warning!
MaddMedic poses this and many other serious questions.
When will enough be enough?
At what point does our so-called government cease to be legitimate? At what point do we declare it to be a criminal entity?
We think we should start making this declaration NOW. We will launch a new campaign for exactly this purpose starting tomorrow.
The hardwired message to Congress will read …
I no longer consider the federal “government” to have any legitimate authority. A long train of abuses and usurpations persuades my conscience that it has become a criminal enterprise. In the future I will submit to it out of fear rather than allegiance.
Please go and read the whole thing, then respond. I’ve written this blog for well over two years now, daily, and made many similar appeals. How much is too much? Is the frog now fully boiled? I am not suggesting insurrection nor revolution. I am not suggesting anything.
I AM asking you go. read and consider the above link. Didn’t the Declaration of Independance enumerate the crimes of the executive with which 56 American Patriots refused to stand? They pledged their lives, their fortunes and their sacred honor by affixing their ‘John Hancocks’ to the treasonous paper.
Congress seems uninterested in addressing any of these issues. They’re making too much money on the side and passing legislation making certain they don’t have to use the Obamacare they passed for us. The ‘heroes’ of the Tea Party, like Chris Christie have been defrocked as RINOS (or worse). The border continues to be porous, and the so-called ‘Drug War’ unwinnable. And were being incessantly taxed and spied upon.
I’ve written about this model N frame Smith before. But, yet another tale bubbled up from the slime that is my subconcious.
It seems much of my ‘adult’ youth was spent in pursuit of both girls and guns. I was luckier with guns. And, frankly, not all that lucky with them. :-(
John C. was a friend from my college law-enforcement classes. He was a former Marine wanting to become a deputy in the county where he grew up. He became my boss doing security at the closed Legend City amusement park. He was married to a strikingly beautiful young woman, who was a secretary at the local FBI office. This made sense in the scheme of things, as he was ruggedly handsome. Pale blue eyes, chiseled jaw and permanent five-o’clock shadow.
I’m certain had he known them, my friend Steve would have christened them Lance Goodlooking and Stella Stunning.
And there was something I desired of John’s – his Smith & Wesson Model 28 Highway Patrolman, with the Herrett Shooting Star stocks! (I kinda liked his wife, too, but, hey, they were married! – and I don’t DO that! As if she’d look at me even once…)
ANYWAY, having expressed my admiration for John’s Smith, one day he found himself short of cash, and offered to sell her to me. (the gun, not the wife). And I really, really wanted her. (the gun, seriously)
And we negotiated an arrangement. And I agreed to make payments. You see, I was making something like $90 a week, and had rent, etc. And I think he was asking $75. I could scare up $60, maybe. (this was 1976?)
Well, we met to finalize the deal, and John backed out! It seemed that the Highway Patrolman was his wife’s gun, and there was no way she was parting with her!
Geez! Turned down by the wife! (about the revolver). I can understand her not wanting to part with her though.
I heard some years later that John and his wife had a child, then divorced. I wonder if she still has the Model 28? Or is seeing anyone?
I’m kidding. I cannot afford either.
I now share a house with my roommate, a cat and three dogs. This is not about the animals.
My roomie and I were watching ‘The Americans’ (an excellent show about the KGB in Reagan’s USA), and she was remarking about Keri Russell, who plays the female lead. (Quite a stretch from Felicity, huh?)
And she took note of a small imperfection on Ms. Russell’s upper lip. Not surprising, as Ms. Russell is quite beautiful. And inquired, “What’s THAT about?”
Being the know-it-all I sometimes pretend to be, I suggested it was an intentional flaw – as one may not notice beauty without a minor flaw with which to compare it. (I don’t remember, some philosopher…anyone? Bueller, Bueller?)
And my roommate, who is quite fetching herself asks me, “So, what’s MY flaw?” – with a big smile.
OOPS. Danger, Danger, Warning, Will Robinson!
Of course, she does have
them one, but I’m not about to tell her! Perhaps it’s constantly denying her beauty. A real modesty and self-deprecation that makes her even more attractive. After all, if she thought she was all that, she’s be insufferable.
But, please don’t tell her…