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White Privilege Apology

In 2003, Baltimore Sun Senior Editor of Design of Adam Marton had his car stolen by a black criminal named Thelonious; in 2015, Thelonious was murdered in Baltimore, and Marton penned a lament to his life lived without the benefit of white privilege… 

In 2003, Baltimore Sun Senior Editor of Design of Adam Marton had his car stolen by a black criminal named Thelonious; in 2015, Thelonious was murdered in Baltimore, and Marton penned a lament to his life lived without the benefit of white privilege… The United States of America is irredeemable. As John Derbyshire noted, Europe seems to be much worse, as “the national institutions of the West are now fiercely protective of Muslims and hostile to the native ancestral populations.” But it’s okay. Seriously. Relax. Breath. Please.

More @ SBPDL
White Privilege?
I don’t know which is worse – the claim such a thing exists in 2016 America, or the fact this guy is so taken in by the idea that he is victimized, and then apologizes to the now-murdered criminal for his not having been born White?
Yes – we are all created equal.  What we do with our lives afterward is what makes the difference.
I happen to have been born White.  I’m not apologizing for that.
And being discriminated against, regardless of the reason, does hurt!
There are Black and White serial killers.  Race-baiters.  Doctors, scientists, actors, credit card fraud investigators.  Men, women.  People of all races on some kind of disability.  Brown and Yellow ones, too. (and yes, I know that’s politically incorrect!)
I have been judged by others because I was White, disabled, and overweight.  Had facial hair.  Because I never lived in the South, or on a farm.
I’ve never (to my knowledge) received preferential treatment because of my skin color.  I have been discriminated against because of it.  And by being disabled.
SO WHAT? 
As my friend (a former boss in two businesses) would say, “Time to put on your big boy pants!”
For every politically-correct whiner who didn’t get a job, or a promotion, or $100K employment after dropping out of high school, pay attention!
YOU MUST WORK FOR THINGS, AND SOMETIMES YOU WILL FAIL!
The Welfare State and the ‘gimmee everything I deserve it’ attitude is not serving you well.
h/t Brock Townsend

A Modest Bleg For Mike

(as copied from Wirecutter)

Plea to All Friends of Mike Vanderboegh

Per Mike, the doctors have told him he is not long of this world. As we all know, his financial situation due to years of disability and devotion to the larger issue of self-sacrifice for freedom is terrible. He is doing what he can to get his affairs in order, but the reality is, his wife will be left in really bad shape. I would like to help with a funding appeal.

I looked at various “crowdfunding” sites, but there are hoops to jump through and/or a cut they take. For now at least, in order to get the ball rolling and hopefully growing as it does, I’m asking all of Mike’s friends to spread the word and to send gratitude offerings directly to him:

Paypal to georgemason1776@aol.com*
Check, money order, cash, etc. to Mike Vanderboegh, PO Box 926, Pinson, AL 35126.**

You’ll note I called it a “gratitude offering.” That’s proper, as this is being directed to those of you who have received value from Mike’s work over the years. That gratitude should also extend to Mike’s wife Rosey, who has had to make plenty of sacrifices of her own to enable Mike to do so many necessary things you and I have benefited from.
FROM HERE

Here is a man who truly believes in sacrifice  as the signers of the Declaration of Independence did:

“Our Lives, Our Fortunes, and Our Sacred Honor.”

If you think you can help this man in his last days, and his lovely wife, please don’t hesitate to do so.

He has done so much for us.

What About Bob?, Part Quatro

In our last episode…

My friend Bob (of the many friends named such) – my former P.I. boss and gun store boss – was losing weight and on a feeding tube due to the inability to eat due to esophageal cancer (!)

And he (and we) were awaiting approval from on-high (his health care insurance) to begin chemotherapy and radiation for the throat cancer.

And the insurance company was balking at beginning treatment, as he had yet to gain any weight (or to save themselves money – you decide!)

And now…

I heard from him yesterday, as I reached out to him for the Thanksgiving weekend.  He has been receiving ‘treatments’ going on three months, with the last one scheduled for this coming week.

THEN, we will see the prognosis…

He says he is very tired and is maintaining (mostly) a good attitude.

Please keep a good thought, and pray for him (if that’s what you do).

When Veterans Day Became Real

As I’ve aged, I’ve developed more of an appreciation for our military veterans.

I don’t know why, exactly?

Maybe it’s because, with my childhood Life plans having failed, due to my leg disability, I was unable to join the largest, least-exclusive club in the World (Service Veterans).  And I’ve been able to observe, albeit from a distance, the brotherhood, camaraderie and sacrifice imbued in those men and women.

ValorAnd with the addition of the instant news cycle, see some of the physical damage caused to them.

On previous Veterans Days (when I was employed) I made it a point to walk around on break and shake hands of those I knew had served and say “Thank You!”  I know it’s not much, especially for persons my age who returned from Vietnam and were denounced as war criminals and spat-upon.  And the Korean War Vets who were (and are) pretty much largely ignored by the media.

I was accompanying my roommate to another of her doctor’s appointments on November 11 this year, and there was an older guy (my age?) with the jacket and cap, embroidered with his service particulars.  I didn’t see what they were.  I made a point to walk over to him and shake his hand.  It was the very least I could do.

After her appointment, J. wanted to get a bite-to-eat, so we stopped at a restaurant we sometimes frequent. And before our meal arrived, in walked another veteran.  Also with an embroidered cap and patched jacket. Significantly older.  A larger man, with silver hair.  With his wife.

After they were seated and had placed their orders, I got up and walked over to them.  I excused myself, apologized for interrupting, and explained I just wanted to thank him for his service.  He smiled, shook my hand vigorously, and his wife beamed.

Then I saw the identifying patch on his sleeve.

US Patches_0011a

I left hurriedly back to our table, so he wouldn’t see me cry.

What About Bob?, Part Tres’

I heard back from Bob this morning.  He remains hospitalized, and frankly, things are not good.

From the Man, himself:

I have been diagnosed with esophageal cancer.  (Apparently the leg amputation was simply a warm-up.)  I will begin three months of radiation and chemotherapy, soon to be followed by surgery to remove the lower third of my esophagus and upper portion of Mr. Stomach.

Prognosis is guarded.

I am attempting to remain positive and as upbeat as possible.

Can you believe this guy?!  Positive and upbeat?  I’d be a puddle on the floor…   :-(

Please keep Bob in your thoughts and prayers.  He is a voracious reader (and likes paper media, eschewing the electronic), so I’m bringing him copies of Brigid’s two fine books, when he allows me to visit.

Youth Is Wasted On The Yutes

I’m sitting here this morning (actually, a couple of days ago), doing my morning routine:  shower, dress, morning rituals, medications, the all-important diet soda, the GiA blog, reading other blogs, news and emails…

Waiting for the stopping point.  When my muscle pain and diabetic neuropathy kick in!  Sometimes in an hour, sometimes more.

Pain in my extremities, feet, legs and even hindquarters.  From SITTING for chrissake!

AND, I already took medications!

And I remember being young.  Well, younger…

Lifting weights, walking long distances, jogging, karate – even with a fused hip!  And the hot shower accompanied by perhaps a couple aspirin did the trick.

Well it did in my 30’s.

But alas, no more.

And I remember older people from my youth, whining and complaining about this pain or that ailment, and me having no understanding.

And even thinking it was funny.

Karma IS a heartless bitch!

And then I think of Bob, a recent 1/2 leg amputee currently braving throat cancer, and my attitude improves…

Gratitude, my friends, is the key!

What About Bob?

I was able to communicate with one of the many Bobs in my life last night.  (Long-time readers know I’ve many friends named Bob and Dave.  One childhood friend was even named Robert Davidson!)

The dear friend with whom I was a private investigator, and later worked together in a firearms emporium.

The one who lost the lower 12″ of his left leg due to diabetic complications.  And almost lost his life.

Fortunately, things are going well as can be for him.

He’s been using a prosthesis now for about six weeks!  He still has need of a wheelchair or a walker for some life activities.

The most important thing is he is active, continuing to test his limits, and has a terrific attitude.

One daughter is preparing to graduate from a local university; the other from Northwestern.

He is most proud.

I’m proud of him for his ongoing attitude.  I’ve my own health issues – And he continues to show me that attitude is everything.

Thank you, Robert!

A Right To An Opinion

Lotsa folks opine on the Internet, Facebook, blogs, et al.

One of the best things about this Nation is our right to free speech – to speak our mind, regardless.

Witness those vile Kansas ‘church’ folks who protest military funerals, or the Klan, or the New Black Panthers.

I tend to gravitate toward folks on the Internet like-minded to me.  That makes sense, because I’ve enough blood pressure issues w/o stroking out after reading WaPo, or the Nation, or other collectivist crap.

But, having no military experience (not for lack of trying) in these issues, I defer to folks who have some.  Sometimes we agree, sometimes not.

rangerOne of my go-to guys is AmericanMercenary.  Not just a rank-and-file grunt (not that there’s anything wrong with that), but an Army Ranger!

He recently wrote regarding the ongoing issue of women in military combat elite units.  My understanding is some other nations have tried it and kept it, some eventually rejected it (in combat roles).

While I understand the whole equal rights thing, I don’t think political correctness is a good reason for policy change in this instance.

But my blogfriend(tm) American Mercenary disagrees with me!

Who knew?

Bring it on.

Once again the “fairness at all costs” crowd has succeeded in opening up more opportunities for women to act like men.
I remember Don Brown teaching us in college that women shouldn’t be patrol officers, because they are inherently weaker and one day may be raped in the back of their patrol cars! (1973).
A friend of a friend is a retired city detective, an expert in sex crime investigation, a crack shot and can bench press over 400 pounds!  She is also a very nice lady.
If you can do the job, go for it!
HOO-AH!

“What To Do…What To Do…?

My friend Borepatch recently brought up a primary technique in self-defense.

That of avoidance.

I remember being a callow youth, and one of my friends suggested (on multiple occasions) we visit a bar in a ‘bad part of town’ to start fights!  To show how tough we were.

Now, my disability aside, when I was in my 20’s, I was thinner, faster, more imbued with testosterone, perhaps – but I wasn’t stupid.

And, I wasn’t tough.  So I demurred.

Now, of course, life’s lessons have made me much slower, in more chronic pain, and less hormonal.  I AM tougher, though.  And maybe a little smarter.

Which brings me to my point.

I used to go ANYWHERE in The Valley.  At any time.  I was the real Travis Bickle.  I don’t know if it was a death wish or stupidity, or simply ignorance.

NOW, I think “would I really want to be THERE, at that time, alone (or unarmed)?”

But these flash mobs and knockout squads aren’t just appearing in ‘the bad parts of town’.  They are becoming ubiquitous.  And, being disabled, I cannot just cross the street – quickly.

This is one reason I carry almost everywhere – and Condition Yellow is my code.

I can take care of myself, given the chance.  I just hope I can see the opposition coming.

ALL POLITICIANS ARE D***S!

First, of course, the quintessential D***  NIXON.  (for whom I did vote in 1972!)

Followed by all others.

Cases(s) in point…

We are ready to have our local primary.  Here are three of the many candidates being promoted:

pheanisI’m guessing he had a lot of fun in junior high and high school.  And, if he was ever in the military…?

foremanSERIOUSLY?  What moniker do you think they gave HIM in high school?

I’ve no idea what either of these gentlemen’s politics are, but am using them to promote my thesis – ALL POLITICIANS ARE D***S!

Even if they are named David or Susan…

Popular wisdom would say they are either strong and wise belying their years, due to years of verbal abuse about their names.  Or they are borderline psychotics running for public office…

And, lest we forget…

huangI rest my case.

"Round up the usual suspects."

In Loving Memory…

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