QOTD – WILL CHILDREN BORN TODAY HAVE BETTER LIVES THAN THEIR PARENTS?

Abigail, This is a response to your query about the music
in the animal video from a day ago. I wasn’t sure you’d see my
post there so I tracked you down today.

The music is titled:
“Now We Are Free”
by Hans Zimmer, sung by Lisa Gerard.

It’s beautiful indeed.

Blue on Black…GREAT SONG.

Jimbo Asians can run and build those things just fine. We are all expendable and hated by those calling the shots.

Because they’ve gotten too soft. How many times have you heard them say, we need to remove Trudeau by any peaceful means? Huge underestimation how soft our society has become. Now eat ze bugs.

Please elaborate too on the fake “Pro Life “, stance. For the “Pro Life” crowd that participates in the annual “marches” , donate some money , then returns to their easy chairs for a cold beer and an Aggie football game, or shopping with the girls , feeling all “good” about themselves, try standing in front of an abortion clinic praying for those about to be murdered , innocents within the womb. Have people flip you off as they drive by, walk up to you and spit on you as you try to read the Gospel of Jesus Christ , then go talk your “good feeling” Pro Life stuff.

Good answer.

Demographics is a club & I ain’t in it. ~ Groucho marks the spots he happens to be inhabiting…mutually exclusively inhabiting ~ Hunter S (is for Solo) Thompson

Perfect (a mistranslation of “best”… maybe the scribbler hadn’t had his morning cup, yet…I just brewed my two for the day, but Big V drank 40-50 cups a day – musta’ been a heluva fast excretor, along with being a Speedy Gonzo-lez, in general) doesn’t have enemies.

Good (“enough” is silent) has perfected “besting” via coal•esce.

That’s where/when diamonds in the rough, at least potentially (not optimism my part, just recognition that massification doesn’t dig diamond mines, & so that data set is in effect immured in a DeBeers vault…) are converted into coal (…the mines mass-minds must dig) that’s burned for a little heat, a little light, & a lot of pollution.

What “perfect” does have is lots & lots of 2nd hand third grade shortcutters ~ prefects ~ trying to impose it ~ Perfectopia ~ here on earth, here in human life…the epitome of oxymoron…those types love the smell of oxymoron in the morning – smells like victory to ‘em.

McDonalds grill scrapers got all three Michelin stars in their eyes, plus a couple more, cuz fraud curve-graded gpa’s beyond 4 are as good enemies of perfect to be as can be – mostly because there’s so damn many of them (they reproduce like rodents).

I’ve been close to the end of my life since I’ve been alive. You have been too. I’m still here but many I knew are not. The quick & the dead got “just that quick” in common. Besides, it’s all just a blink of the eye anyway. But heaven apparently forbids heaven-gazers from accepting that part of life as it is. (“Everybody wants to go to heaven but nobody wants to die.”)

But like water to pup fish, that’s hard to see from inside mentally constructed & projected “demographics,” hard to read on labeling-laws moonshine bottle labels. Soaking inebriation usually “bests” comprehension.

And there’s all kinds of besot other than tip of the ice berg words…or tip of the flagellum kamikaze hits.

I accepted, by age 13, life as it is & knew the moves from there did not include marriage, or children.

Somebody, or something, maybe a committee of shrinks scribbling out DSM maladies, has surely slapped a demographic label on me. And I’m just lost for not knowing what it says.

“…refuse to consider any ’collectivized’ solutions, you cannot collectively consider the childhood of all future children.” Nor do collectivized descriptions, like “demographics” fit anywhere but the “good” that is not even close to perfect.

Many years later, happenstance of the wide read, perspectives that had nothing to do with me being me at 13, or subsequently, started scrolling by, having to do with noticing that many men, like Voltaire, never fathered children, & often never married, either. Mencken goes into some rapier detail on this subject, for example.

Too big to fail sumbitch quote: That which is not worth doing, is not worth doing well. ~ Warren Buffett

Picture Nazi Prefect Schwab, in conversation with the Longshanks character from Braveheart: Grill-scraper Schwab, with his engineering/econ degrees, says “If we can’t get them out…” & Fast Eddie, with his crown, finishes the “thought,” “…we’ll breed them out.”

Which is to say, obviously, “we’ll breed the right them in.”

Dr. Phil: How’s that animal husbandry workin’ for ya’? Bonus Q: How’s that definition of insanity go again?

But of course, the biological imperatives are a certain categorically imperative slice of the insanity spectrum. Cure don’t apply.

So I’m traipsing thru the woods when I come upon a wild, or reverted to wild, orchard. Apple trees, heavy-laden with fruit, apples littering the ground all around. All the rest of nature is helping itself to the easy pickings bounty.

But there’s this guy sitting there, manning his apple stand. He’s got apples for sale. Unlike the near infinite apple surround, free but for the picking effort, appleman’s apples all have little labels stuck to them. “Gucci” reads the label. And there’s a line o’ queue-balls waitin’ to buy themselves some designer apples that appleman has picked, polished, & labeled. So much value addedness, so little time(or)value/of/money.

There’s way more people around than apples. And all of them are flesh & blood relations, same as all the apples are flesh & juice relations.

Not only is there no good reason for me to produce people, just like apples, you never know whose who until the squeeze anyway. Even people from the same tree as you is unknowns until the press proves…& it ain’t once & done either. Squeeze after squeeze after squeeze is what perfects the enemy of the “good” gawd will ya’ just look at all those apples raining down from the Sky-lar, Evie~for~Vendetta?

Today’s QOTD. My first was a ’57 Bel Air. 4-door post. She was heavy, snare drum brakes all the way around, hard to stop, & I wrecked her – mostly for psychological-emotional-personality reasons (the car was a bribe, a forced error) – when I was 16.

Took her to a body shop. Guy says he doesn’t work on cars like her because he knows how people want the work to be on cars like that. “Perfect” he said. OK asshole, I thought. Keep toweling in the bondo for the big bucks. Plastic surgery was huge in auto body work long before it was plumping lips & tits out in gen pop.

Found some grill parts for her. On the phone seller says they are in “perfect” condition. I drove from N. Charleston to Columbia for those parts. You know the punchline: not good at all was the enemy of the good, let alone the perfect. (But the fried brain rednecks, 3 of ‘em, woulda’ been happy to make a fight of it if I didn’t like it enough to add some injuries to insult…& I didn’t buy that, either.)

Next one was a ’69 SS Camaro convertible. A basket, but it had an L88 ‘427 in it. I built a shed to rebuild it in. Wasn’t subframe-off but pretty much ground up. And she was smack dab in the neighborhood of perfect by the time I finished.

But retro perspective on all that youthful energie$ spent that way, even despite lessons learned, skills developed, art created still veers back round to that sumbitch quote above.

That ’57 sent me down a box canyon.

Turned out ~ surprise, surprise ~ that takin’ bribes got a downside that this plumber could not see the bottom of when he began plumbing it. And that is the crowning lesson.

Maybe I coulda learned it cheaper some other way, maybe not. And/so/but learning isn’t a regret. That includes learning that learning costs quite a bit more than students & would-be’s are led to believe – & to proselytize.

The perfect ain’t enemy the goods…it’s all that slippery slope that crumples-begets hoods in the hoods.

Perfect Storms is what the sea of Briberee does. (As mentioned yesterday, an eye of that storm passed over hereabouts back in the 50’s-60’s. And people still pine for that ol’ Cyclops.)

Relatedly, Quick sandy Sea o’ Galilee’s the lowest freshwater lake, or sump, in the world. Only one lower is the saltwater Dead Sea.

The Quick & the Dead got much in common. But they love each other, toughly. ☻