Our new modem has arrived. The guy at Verizon said it’d solve our problems–no more losing our connection to the Internet.
It came with several pages of instructions and warnings and, for all I know, prophecies, all in a typeface that makes legal notices look like screaming headlines.
The last time we got a modem, all we had to do was plug it in. Well, that’s changed.
We’re going to have to get a professional to install this for us. I mean, we just can’t make head nor tail of it. What happens if you put the wrong cable into the wrong outlet? We don’t want to go blundering into The Last Days of Pompeii, do we?
No, I’m not going to post a picture of a polyamorous “relationship.” Here’s a nice little bird instead.
R.J. Rushdoony used to say the only freedom statists mean to leave us is the freedom to fornicate–and that only because they want to wipe out the family, which competes with the state for an individual’s loyalty. He was right.
Speaking of America’s national character sliding down the pipe to the trash heap down below, the small city of Somerville, Massachusetts (pop. 80,000), has approved polyamory. That’s when a group of people have random sexual relations and call themselves a family. Feh. (https://www.nytimes.com/2020/07/01/us/somerville-polyamorous-domestic-partnership.html) They’ve redefined “domestic partnerships” to include groups of three or more persons living together as a sexual oddity.
Now public employees there can get local government health benefits if there are more than two people in the “partnership.” Members of these aggregations can now visit each other in the hospital–a change that could easily have been made without approving polyamory. But this is only to be expected from a town that flies Organized Sodomy’s “rainbow flag” from City Hall.
Family, schmamily, everything’s a family because you are whatever you call yourself. Two men, two women, a dog, and a manual typewriter can all themselves a “family.” Just another thing for our country to be ashamed of.
I had to run off to the eye doctor this morning to try to get a sample bottle of my eye drops, which would otherwise cost me several hundred dollars at Walmart. I mean, they give them out when they have them, so it’s not so unusual for patients to enjoy this benefit. Happily, they had some to spare today.
So I’m off to a late start blogging, and as has been the rule for all July so far, the views and comments are down [note to Byron: Weren’t you going to fix this?], and the nooze is just so awful, I shrink from covering it. I’m already wondering if I’ve written too much about the nooze and chased people away because enough already.
It looks like rain, but until that’s a fait accompli (or a fait worse than death), I want to sit outside and work on my new book. I’m still using Behold! as a working title, although I’m not wild about it. If there are any really deep Bell Mountain fans out there and you want to suggest a title–well, I’m writing the book, but I know only a little more about it than you do. Titles was always my weak suit as a horror novelist, all those many years ago. I’ve done much better with my Bell Mountain series, but this time I think I need more inspiration. Or at least some helpful hints from the fans in the stands.
And look at that–another 15 minutes spent.
I have to work just as hard to have a bad day with the blog as a good. Shouldn’t the government, like, help me with that? Shouldn’t they redistribute blog views so everybody gets the same?
A liberal once said to me that socialism is good and necessary because “the government will take better care of you.” So much for adulthood.
God gave us families, the Church, voluntary associations, friends, and our own two hands and our own brains to take care of us. We don’t want The Government to take care of us. We are not infants. If they feed you, clothe you, and put a roof over your head, they can certainly tell you what to do and what to think and punish you if you don’t.
Yeahbut, yeahbut! If it saves one life…. Honk if you’ve heard that one before.
If it saves one life, Walter Williams said recently, then the government should reduce the speed limit to 5 mph. That would save thousands of lives! Unless it drove people to murder or suicide.
Let’s all wear face masks all the time! if it saves one life. Let’s ban all products that could possibly harm you–if it saves one life. Let’s put the government in charge of making all the people happy! Which will only make them all miserable; but if it saves one life, we’ve gotta do it.
Yeahbut! The Democrats will give us free stuff! All kinds of free stuff!
Is this not shameful? Do you want to be a baby or a toddler all your life? Aren’t you ashamed for living off the work of other people? It’s theft if you do it with a Saturday night special. If the government does it with an army that’ll kill anyone who resists, it’s just “fair redistribution.”
But of course they’ve now had four more years to deepen and intensify their transgender mania; so if they win this time, what has gone before will seem like nothing. This time they do not intend for our republic to survive. This time they mean to destroy our culture and break what’s left of our Christianity.
Anything but a vote for Donald Trump will help them do it.
Dogs have many different ways of getting up and down the stairs. Belly-surfing is quite popular. (Have any of you tried it? Looks like fun.) So is going up sideways, backwards, or hopping one step at a time. As for going down, well, that’s a little harder. Falling is always an option. I wonder if any of these dogs have ever seen a Slinky go down a flight of stairs.
We’re getting bombarded with robo-calls today, the same stupid calls we get all the time, every day (“This is an apology call…”, “This is your final notice…”, etc.). It’s pure annoyance for annoyance’s sake: you’re not going to buy their product.
The phone rings again. I answer it. Only instead of saying “Hello,” I say, “This had better be good.” Response: nothing. Silence.
It rings again. This time I say, “Who’s this?” Silence.
A third time. “What’s this, then?” And for the third time, silence.
And then it dawns on me! If you say “Hello,” you engage the robot to go into its spiel. If you don’t say “Hello,” it doesn’t engage.
This way you get the added benefit of a real caller hearing you and responding to your other-than-hello.
That’s how I’m going to answer the phone from now on.
Thousands and thousands of Los Angeles residents lit up the night sky with their own fireworks and roman candles, prompting at least a thousand police complaints. The mayor had threatened draconian fines to anyone disobeying his commands–and the people said “So what!” instead of “Yes, master.”
All right, private fireworks is not exactly a noble cause–you could blow your fingers off: I used to know someone who had done just that–but resistance to these tinpot tyrants has to start somewhere. They don’t mind at all if we riot and burn down stores and throw rocks at the police; but they’d be bummed out big-time if we started swarming back to our churches.
Our government officials used to be known as public servants. Somehow they became the public’s masters. That error needs to be corrected.