The teleology of cancel culture is recreational lynching:

Thought:

Men read news because it combines two of the things they love: feeling they are part of a mob, while comfortably remaining in their armchair.

-plucked from the ether

If you have a business or a side business you can employ your children and they can put money into you a 401k. Which can in turn be converted into a self-directed IRA.

There are limits and wrinkles at all of these steps, due diligence required.

The President has suspended the au pair visa.  Consequently the market for domestic au pairs has boomed.  This is an opportunity for LDS girls.

An 18-year old I heard of just accepted an au pair position with a quality (non-LDS) family down in DC that she heard about from friends of friends.  She wasn’t even looking.  It will be wonderful experience for her being paid to practice motherhood and being able to see a second exemplary family (besides her own) from the inside.  All her needs are met so if she is thrifty she will come out in one year with somewhere around $15k or even more in savings. (more…)

Ideologies are rickety. Belief systems are rickety. It is impossible to do without one. You cannot understand the world without trying to make sense of the world, and you cannot make sense of the world without using a framework. The ideology is the framework. But it is rickety. It is not the world you are perceiving. The map is not the territory. This is true of our map also. “For now you see as through a glass darkly . . .”

Some ideologies are more rickety than others. But I don’t think there is any sincerely held belief system where a person cannot use it to perceive some angle on real truth and real beauty.

Imagine a bare, plain room. A kind of shed or warehouse. There is light streaming in from a high window and over there someone has built themselves a rickety little platform of stools and scraps. They are looking out the window and describing the wonders they see. You must imagine that they are choked in the throat and crying because outside is so beautiful. The people in that room are gathered around and what the man up there describes is so transporting that they are crying also. In their enthusiasm they devote more attention to building up the platform.

They first forget, and then cover, the window.

In the real parable of Plato’s cave, those who see the shadows do not reject the message of the one who went outside. They only confuse the message and the outside.

It is an aggravation that SJWs have no sense of humor but it is a disaster that they have no sense of tragedy.

A troop of monkeys occupied a copse of trees one day where a path led down to a river.

A pride of lions used to take the path every day and were shocked when suddenly they found themselves under a rain of flung sticks, monkey poop, and rotten fruit.  Ducking, dodging, and growling, they  hustled off.

The monkeys loudly congratulated each other on their victory.  They then started to discuss the lions’ countermeasures.  Some said the lions would lie in wait at night and slowly try to pick off the monkeys.  Some said the  lions would sprint through in terror.  Others said they would just suffer the monkeys’ abuse.  The trees soon rang with the angry chatter of a hundred different arguments.

The next day, the lions came casually along the path as normal.  When they came close to the copse they cut away from the path and made a beeline for another point on the river, equally convenient.  Their new route kept them out of range of the trees.

Moral:  ???

Comment: This fable is meant as a companion to the fable of the Harassed Aurochs.  The lions were too strong and too indifferent for what they did to be considered a surrender.  It was masterful indifference. (more…)

A particular hunter took it into his head that if he could bell a few aurochs, the herd would be easy to find whenever he wanted.

The hunter persisted in his efforts for days. And mostly for nights. Night after nights the aurochs would find the hunter slowly creeping up on them with muffled bells and would have to flee or drive him off.

The nuisance wore on and on.

One bright morning an auroch cow made her way through the herd to the lead bull. She had a complacently bovine look on her face. Indeed, she looked smug.

“At least we can get some sleep,” she announced to the bull. “I have the answer.”

“Go on,” said the bull.

“By the hunter’s village there is a large pen. Let us go into that pen every night. The hunter will always know where to find us, so he will have no need to harass us with his sneaking and his bells.”

Moral: Surrenders are not solutions.

They say that history is on their side.

No. But legend and memory on our side.

Live worthy of the judgment of legend.

Be the myth that you would see in the world.

He punishes fiercely, rewards greatly, and remembers long.

Sometimes you are ready for a scripture.

Come, my brethren, every one that thirsteth, come ye to the waters; and he that hath no money, come buy and eat; yea, come buy wine and milk without money and without price.

-2 Nephi 9:50

And then shall the righteous shine forth in the kingdom of God.

-Alma 40:25

In the late winter twilight there is a house across the fields of the valley that has light streaming out its window. It is almost intolerably bright in the gloom. You can’t look straight at it.

You walk towards it, because it is home.

As you get closer, your eyes start to adjust. The light appears softer. You can start to see inside. You walk up and look in. You see the warmly lit room, the happy family, the fire.

They open the door when you knock. They are excited to see you. You go in to the cheer.

In earliest biblical culture, the family was more than a parent and child unit. It included all who were related by blood and marriage. This kindred family, as I prefer to call it, was strongly linked by natural affection and the patriarchal priesthood. The elderly were venerated for their experience and wisdom. There were strength and safety in numbers, and, through love and support, members established solidarity and continuity.

-thus Brother J. Richard Clarke, Our Kindred Family, from the Sunday morning session of the April 1989 General Conference

“Strongly linked by natural affection and the patriarchal priesthood.”  That’s right.  (Read his whole talk, its good for the soul.)

Memory and the generations, that is what is best in life.  The kindred family is what you were meant for. (more…)

Inspired by the Yankee Republic.

Its a tree in the kids backyard in an old house their family moved to.  It is not young but not particularly old.  Big enough, just barely, to have a kid-sized hole in the trunk.  When the kids crawl in, they discover it is much larger on the inside.  They are on the top landing of a staircase that stretches down down down into a distant blue haze.  There are regular landings as far down as they can see.

They go down one level and see a hole to exit.  They crawl out and find themselves in the recent past.  But not exactly the past as we think of it.  The past of our present turns out to be a pale reflection of the real past.  Each time period has its own past appropriate to it that only echoes but is not the real past.  The further back you go, the more different the reality.

For instance, their first exit takes them to colonial times, which are much like ours, but with haunts and ghosties and more swashbuckle.  In the real past, George Washington had a scar down his face and was blood brothers with the Bear of the Woods.  He won the Revolution personally dueling Cornwallis in the final assault on Yorktown.

The real dinosaurs had deadly colors our eyes can’t see and every creature sang.  The T-Rex sprinted with a high shrieky bagpipe skirl while its prey rhythmically boomed.

The kids explore and have adventures at the different levels.  Each level down the tree is taller.  In the far past, the tree is too tall to be seen.  Its massive trunk, bigger than cliffs, disappears into the clouds.

One days the kids ask themselves why the tree is normal size in their own time.

Honor and glory to them all.  They built a great inheritance.  If we squander it, we can only expect that they, like the father of the prodigal, will still welcome us in when we return to truths they built.

Remember!

The true Constitution is visionary men of high character and high ability leading a visionary people of high character and high ability.

Anything less is words on paper.

I loved the Yankee Republic stories almost as much as I love Abraham Lincoln.

The best recommendation I can give to the book is its own epitaph.

If certain tales related by madmen and talking animals are to be believed, the world has already been destroyed and remade at least once, and it will go on existing long after we are gone, and all the worlds and the spaces in between are inhabited by strange life forms of which we know nothing, and the universe is more vast, and strange, and glorious than we can imagine.