I think that was first labelled as such by Rudyard Kipling.
Borepatch led me to Goober’s thoughts on the matter…
Goober on “Social Justice Warriors”:
You take a guy that lived his entire life in the Amazonian jungle, fighting for every meal he’s ever eaten, making his own living/clothing/abode/etc at huge expense of labor, and living every day with the fear of that next cut becoming septic and killing him, or that next sniffle being the cold that brings him down, or the next monsoon not being monsooney enough and his family starving to death, and you give him a pair of Levi jeans, some tennis shoes, a first world education, and modern medicine, and HE WILL CUT YOUR FUCKING THROAT before he will let you stick him back in that jungle.
But SJWs want to keep him there, unmolested by western “cultural pollution” like modern medicine and central air conditioning, in order to “preserve his culture”, without giving him an educated say in the decision at all. More of that SJW superiority.
This idea of “allowing the brown people to stay in their place” smacks an awful, awful lot like “keeping the brown people in their place.” (end)
I had two directions I wanted to address this. One was simple agreement with Goober, (with perhaps a tip of the Hatlo hat to Firesign Theatres’ Temporarily Humboldt County*), the second going sideways regarding the invention if the term Social Justice Warriors, aka SJWs. Conservative/libertarian/gun culture shorthand.
Not unlike JBTs for Jack-Booted Thugs.
And I’m not even touching the Star Trekian Prime Directive, or Jean-Jacque Rosseau’s ‘Noble Savage’ meme…
“All over the map – Geez, he’s all over the map!” (from inside most of your heads)
I’m still dealing with this sinus/throat thing. Forgive me.
*FREAK: Hey, man! Don’t let him bring you down, now. There’s a lot of young people in this country, just like myself, who really know where the Indian’s at. And don’t worry. Soon we’re all gonna be out here on the Reservation, livin’ like Indians, ‘n’ dressin’ like Indians and doing all the simple, Beautiful Things that you Indians do. Hey – got any peyote? (link)
Is it out there, anymore?
I remember my Father ranting about the dearth of customer service when I was a teenager – and that was in the 60’s.
Back then a guy in a uniform (or at least a uniform shirt) filled your tank, checked your oil, and cleaned your windshield. And no tip was asked or expected. Now, IF there’s a monitor/cashier at the self-service gas station behind the bulletproof glass, it’s an effort to get them to look up from their graphic novel to take your card for purchase.
And waiters/waitresses? One would think when they are first being trained, they would be instructed that the more courteous and efficient they are, the better tip they will receive. But most these days are barely capable in getting your food to you at all. Need extra napkins or a refill on that beverage? Good luck with that.
And getting the order correct in the first place? Fuggedaboutit!
Retail stores? Just try to find someone who has any idea where stock might be, or even be able to direct you to it.
Call centers? Pshaw.
And we who chat regarding firearms on the Internet are familiar with H & K’s (in)famous lack of customer service.
One word. OBAMACARE. And government services in general.
And, while I’m on the subject – do any of these aforementioned folks speak American English? This assumes I don’t have to migrate through a computer-generated menu prompt resembling a RPG in Urdu to get to a human.
We now return you to your post-holiday festivities.
Old NFO (via JP) brings us geekery of the first order, coupled with first-rate humor!
The heaviest element known to science was recently discovered by investigators at a major U.S. research university. The new element has been named Hillarium. The chemical symbol of Hillarium is Bs.Hillarium has no protons or electrons and thus has an atomic number of 0. However, it does have one neutron, 125 assistant neutrons, 75 vice neutrons and 111 assistant vice neutrons, which gives it an atomic mass of 312. These 312 particles are held together by a force that involves the continuous exchange of meson-like particles called morons.Hillarium’s mass actually increases over time, as morons randomly interact with various elements in the atmosphere and become assistant deputy neutrons within the Hillarium molecule, leading to the formation of isodopes. This characteristic of moron-promotion leads some scientists to believe that Hillarium is formed whenever morons reach a certain quantity in concentration. This hypothetical quantity is referred to as a Critical Morass. When catalyzed with money, Hillarium activates CNNadnausium and MSNBCobnoxium, elements that radiates orders of magnitude more energy, albeit as incoherent noise, since each has half as many peons but twice as many morons as Hillarium. Hillarium has also been reported in some war torn countries to inexplicably draw sniper fire out of thin air where no snipers are present, and to cause shoes to catapult across the room as a result of intense attraction to Hillarium.
The Firearms Blog just advised me I’ve been saying at least SOME of these names incorrectly. Some, I have gotten correct.
Where do YOU stand? Or do you care?
Of course, I knew a guy years ago who pronounced another brand SMITH AND WESTERN! :-)
Essentially, it describes a kind of malaise.
Why blog anymore?
Between Instagram, Twitter, and Facebook*, blogging is being re-defined as the ‘buggy whip’ of social media. Who blogs, anymore? I mean really…
For me, it returns me to why I began blogging in the first place, and what I expected to get out of it.
I began blogging because it gave me something
constructive with which to waste my time. A personal daily discipline. And the ability to share my politics, philosophy and history with family and friends. I had no expectations then, and certainly don’t now. And have been met with a wonderful community of friends I didn’t know I had until I began blogging! Some of whom have become friends and confidants off the Internet. In the real world.
Many folks have voluntarily or involuntarily removed themselves from the blogosphere since I began. And that saddens me. It means time is passing, and people have removed themselves from our lives. That is their choice. Or Fate’s.
Guffaw, your humble blogger, will continue blogging. At least for the time being.
Weather permitting. :-) (“They’ll be a rain dance, Friday night. Weather permitting.” – George Carlin, The Indian Sergeant) See, there’s always guffaw in there, somewhere. :-)
*Facebook – Guffaw is on FB, in his real name. But, the more I blog, the less I am there. Guess I’m doing this backwards(?)
aka, boy, THAT was close!
After my morning routine yesterday, I didn’t get back to my computer and the Internet until late last night. I usually leave her on and connected, but in sleep mode. That way, all I have to do is hit ESC and I can respond to email, review blogs, whatever…
Except last night, I reviewed a couple of emails and went to respond to them. And nothing happened. Nothing. Bupkis, zilch, a big goose egg.
The screen was there, the mouse worked to maneuver between screens; I was able to open files and emails.
But, I was unable to type anything! My wireless keyboard was not working!
And, this was not the usual ‘battery indicator indicates they need changing’ (although, just in case, I did change them)
I thought, perhaps, I would be ‘living off the grid’ for real!
(I did set up a fledgling post on my cellular telephone, although I am unclear how to change out my other blog items – the quote, funny and women pic. Guess I need to do additional research, huh?)
So…I went to bed, awakened this morning, showered, dressed, etc. and began to address the computer issue head on.
I turned her off and ran diagnostics, reinstalled the mouse, and prayed. And did a cold reboot.
That was the initial solution for all computer problems at TMCCC for the 20+ years I worked there. Have a problem with your terminal? Reboot! Or, move to an empty desk and reboot! Hell, it worked for the IT guys there about 75% of the time, so…
Fingers now crossed (note to self, very difficult to type in this fashion!), I began to type.
And the keyboard now works!
It’s been awhile since we GUFFAWED, so here goes…
THIS is why we’re winning the argument, and they are looking unscientific, at best!
Collectivism score: -33%
Authoritarianism score: -50%
Internationalism score: -50%
Tribalism score: 33%
Liberalism score: -50%
Frankly, I was expecting something a little less pejorative…
Your results may very. :-)
(As the election is FINALLY over, and it’s been a while since we shared a Guffaw!)
As told in LOLtrek GIF style!
When it comes to television entertainment, many times I’ve been behind the 8-ball! For example, I liked science fiction as a child (must have read Bradbury’s Marooned on Mars 20 times in the 4th Grade, and watched Forbidden Planet and The Outer Limits whenever they were on).
But most 60’s TV, sci-fi wise was lacking. Lost in Space? Puleez!
I kept hearing about this show Star Trek from my geek friends. “Gotta watch it!” So one night when my parents were out for the evening, I turned it on. The episode, unfortunately, was ‘The Trouble with Tribbles’.
I thought it was the stupidest thing I’d ever seen – right up there with the Adam West Batman show. Of course, I didn’t understand ‘camp’.
Fast forward a few years and Star Trek went into syndication. And I started picking it up by default. Except for Tribbles, I never watched it in prime time. Later, I learned to appreciate it. Great stuff!
It was as if I determined I didn’t like all grapes because the one I picked was sour!
Of course, since that time, I became a minor trekker (not trekkie) and have seen most of the later TV permutations and movies.
(I even dated a beautiful sci-fi nerd who had Star Trek porn – but, that’s another post! :-) )
My career as an (unsuccessful) television critic continued when it was announced M.A.S.H. would become a TV show. I’d seen the film, and read the book, and decreed there was no way they could do those things on television! Of course, they softened and rebranded it, and it lasted (I think) eleven years!
This from the kid who was profoundly annoyed when they replaced The Man From U.N.C.L.E. with Rowan & Martin’s Laugh-In!
The times (and me, apparently) were a’changin’!