… in the meadows of the dead
there are whitesome daisies grow
There are roses climbing red
And the spirits sighing go …
Teacher Council Meeting last Sunday reminded me of a song I like and have replayed every day this week. (more…)
any American discourse that claims to be about race is actually about class any American discourse that claims to be about class is actually about race
< Thus Jesse Abraham Lucas
Below the break is a photo of pages 9 and 10 from this morning’s Washington Post. I don’t particularly care about these articles, but look at the headlines. The name of Jesus Christ may have caught your eye as it did mine.
Trust content from the Apostles
Thou shalt live together in love, insomuch that thou shalt weep for the loss of them that die
-D&C 42:45 It is false that the gospel requires us to believe that horrible things are not horrible. True, Christ overcomes them. The pioneers overcame the plains, does that mean the crossing was not harsh? It does not make his victory less to say that the things he defeats are terrible.
Thou shalt not be proud in thy heart; let all thy garments be plain, and their beauty the beauty of the work of thine own hands
-D&C 42:40
Clearly we no longer weave and sew our own homespun. Maybe we should. But let’s grapple with this a bit. (more…)
(This is a guest post from ~lagrev-nocfep)
There’s an uncomfortable secular truth which many of us have striven to understand or avoid or explain away. One way of stating it is Darwinian: “the survival of the fittest,” necessitating a violent and tumultuous natural world brim full of death. Another is Nick Land’s phrase, “everything of value has been built in Hell.” (more…)
The wokeness tax on thought is brutal. It’s not just censoring your speech. It’s birth control for vision—we can only achieve what we can imagine, but if our imagination is in a corrupted tongue…
-thus SPDI
Whew, digging a 300 square-foot bunker suitable for young children is hard work. My back isn’t what it used to be. So far, we’re 50 feet down in the backyard and are about to pour 10-inch thick WiFi-proof concrete walls. The kids will have goldfish, coloring books, a Kindle that contains all of Western classical literature, Play-Doh, and a hose for drinking water. They’ll be lowered into the hole when they turn six, and we’ll let them climb out when they turn 18.
We plan to tell any nosy neighbors that we sent the kids away to a new progressive anti-racism academy.
Cruel, you say? Not if you’re trying to insulate your precious children from the all-powerful wokeness algorithm. In fact, it’s the only way to be sure.
Will I miss them? Sure, but I’m comforted knowing they’ll be among the few who survive the radioactive wokelear fallout released this year.
-thus Peachy Keenan. I envy the writing.
Most of this stuff is simple stuff. Mere table stakes. But because of the easiness of the way, many would not.
My kids are stout and sturdy. Doughty redoubts of goodly goodness. But who are they going to marry? It looks like a wasteland out there. Get your act together, friends.
Americans in all age groups have been getting sicker since 2000. Fatter, more inflamed, more depressed, more ill, and there is not one of those trends that explains all the others.
Salus populi suprema lex.
Take care of yourself. It’s not your fault that you live in a charnel house. But you do, and you have to overcome.
There is a land near an impossibly high mountain. It is somewhere in a mountain range that goes back and back and up and up. No one knows how high and how far back it goes. Every year the voice of God comes from the mountain, inviting all people to come up to Him. None have come so far. None are able to. The people of that land usually do not venture into the range at all; they treat it with superstitious awe.
There is a certain group in that land who work hard and live plainly. They are a religious people. They pray to God, whose voice comes from the mountain. They seem less afraid of the mountains than most, but what they do there is not religious or spiritual or awe-inspiring. It doesn’t seem worthy of the voice somehow, and so the other people of the land scorn them. Specifically, they are doing stonework on the mountains. They have cut very very broad stairs and ramps, that go about a 1000 feet up and a mile or so in. At the end, there is a valley that they are currently clearing and leveling and terracing into a very large space, large enough for a town and villages and fields.
There was a young man there who grew tired of the daily grind of field and farm and holidays spent working on the stairs and the level space. He heard the Voice of the mountain and wanted to ascend. Yes, the stairs his folk made were symbolically about reaching God. But he wanted to actually reach God. So he joined a crew of bold men who dared! They set out into the wastes, up into where the plants and animals were strange, up into the endless snows and silence. The important thing was to try! Most died. He barely made it back. (more…)
Bruce Charlton summarizes the body-size difference between men and women. It is doughty.
The sex difference in upper-body muscle mass in humans is similar in magnitude to the sex difference in lean body mass in gorillas, the most sexually dimorphic primate
…
In overall body weight comparisons, a female advantage in fat mass largely counterbalances a male advantage in muscle mass, making the sexes appear quite similar. But this gross similarity masks very different tissue investment strategies by males and females
More here.
What strikes me, as always, is how much Team Evil rejects actual science and actual evolution while loudly using them as a stick to beat up their opponents. Consciously and thoroughly rejecting them and all their doctrines doesn’t make you anti-science or anti-rational any more than hating Moloch makes you anti-God.
The nibs down at the Drones Club assevere that shots and jabs are a sovereign specific against the virus thinggummy.
The Woosters are known for their manly fortitude, practically bathing in the stuff don’t you know, but all the same I meet the invitation to be poked in the snoot with a hearty n., dash it! Jabs are right out. So liquor it is.
Wednesday was Ken Mattingly’s 85th birthday. As I pointed out ten years ago when he turned 75, and five years ago after he turned 80, this retired admiral is the youngest among the two dozen who ever ventured farther than low earth orbit, all explorers of the moon. Twelve of them landed and walked the lunar surface, and the other twelve like Mattingly orbited the moon (or looped around it in Haise and Swigert’s case). Five of his peers have died in the five years since Mattingly turned 80, so now four of the walkers are still alive, as are seven of the orbiters. The oldest of the living, Frank Borman, is 93, and none who have died lived past 88 years old.
Five years ago I wrote that we had a decade or so remaining before their feats passed into legend. At that time I had no expectation that any new astronauts will venture again even 1,000 miles above the earth’s surface before all the lunar astronauts will have died. That is still the current trajectory, but there is a chance it may not be so.
Something I have kept in mind: After Amundsen reached the south pole at the end of 1911 and Scott did so a month later, it was not until the austral spring of 1956 that anyone set foot at the south pole again. After a 45 year pause, the last second of southern latitude has been continuously manned for 63 years now.
