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Tuesday, April 29, 2014

Sonic Fast Food Combo Scam 2.0



This is my second Sonic Combo analysis. The first was done about sixteen months ago. The prices haven't changed very much, and neither has the menu. They've got a few new things, but overall the combo prices are just as wacky as they were a year and a half ago. Look at the menu/price comparison below. (Click the picture to see a larger version.)


Please notice the drink & fries column. The posted menu prices shown in the spreadsheet are the prices charged for combos with the medium drink and medium fries. The price for the same drink and fries ranges from a high of $3.00 down to a low of only $1.20 when you choose the Breakfast Toaster. Notice also, that all of the hot-dog combos have the highest drink & fries price. Notice also the oddity of a higher drink & fries price for the large Jumbo Popcorn Chicken than for the regular Jumbo Popcorn Chicken—yes both combos come with medium drink and fries. Below is an interesting graph using the above data and assuming a family of five will all order identical meals.


This graph displays the strange disconnect between the combo price and entree price, especially with the lower priced entrees. What do they do, throw price darts at a menu board to come up with the combo price? At twenty dollars for a full meal for five people, the regular breakfast burrito combo has the lowest price tag, but it's an even better deal if you say no thanks to the drink and fries. Additionally, if you're looking for low-carb the Breakfast Burrito is definitely one of the better options on the menu-board. Finally—and most important—I almost always get two and sometimes three full-length strips of crispy bacon in my burrito! Full-disclosure: I don't own any Sonic stock, and as far as I'm aware, no one is my family does either. I don't work there and never have. I do eat there fairly regularly, since they are on the other side of the street from where I work.

Saturday, April 26, 2014

Putin plays Risk, while World plays deeper game.


The media loves coming up with grandiose names for things. Remember The Gang of Six? Well, now it's the "Group of Seven,"—G7?—who're going to put that pesky Putin in check with a new round of sanctions. If Vladimir Putin's not careful they might just toss him in the briar patch! Putin in the metastasized form of a mad-Russian Pac-Man is gobbling up square miles of Ukrainian dirt faster than Kobayashi can take a hotdog. What are we to do?

Land it's just so precious. It's worth so much. Millions of people ... billions of people? ... have fought and died to protect it, to safeguard it, to own it. We raise crops on it, build homes on it, let our herd animals graze on it, drive through it, fly over it, tunnel under it, mine it for precious minerals, drill for oil and natural gas, and finally, we bury our dead in it. If it's ours we're proud of it, and if it's not we're jealous of its owners.

That's all about to change.
The total land surface area of Earth is about 57,308,738 square miles, of which about 33% is desert and about 24% is mountainous. Subtracting this uninhabitable 57% (32,665,981 mi2) from the total land area leaves 24,642,757 square miles or 15.77 billion acres of habitable land.
I didn't grow up playing Risk™, but I have played it. I've also played Monopoly™. The winner wins by taking all the land. In the old days perhaps that strategy would have constituted success, but that's all going to change pretty soon. While generals and presidents squabble endlessly over ephemeral borders, and disputed demarcations, there is a much bigger game going on.

In the old days, before computers, before robots, before automation and control systems, before magnificently fantastic materials like graphene, way back in feudal times and before, the people living on the land also lived off of the land. It provided crops, it provided fodder. It provided wood to burn in the cold and a place to lay down at night. We're still psychologically locked into that pattern of thought, that deep mental rut that has been trodden ever deeper, over the generations and eons.

Ask yourself this question: what is your land worth if you can't live off of it? Guess what? 99% of the people on the earth don't own enough land to live off of. They live on it, but they don't grow enough crops on it to survive. They don't own enough land to hunt the animals on it and survive. Yet still somehow they do survive. How is this possible? It's possible because of specialization. Even if we don't own land to eat, to sleep, to live on, we can still—with our labor—utilize a monetary system to rent a small patch to live on, and purchase food that someone else grew on land we've never even seen.

The point is, that land really isn't all that big a deal anymore. The problem is that most people just haven't figured that fact out yet. For proof of this principle, ask yourself this question: what's worth more, the land a factory sits on, or the factory? In a world with ever more efficient manufacturing processes, where these factories continue to grow ever more productive and efficient, what's more valuable? What about the land these increasingly valuable factories sit on? I'm betting that land is just going to sit there.
LONDON — It looked like a burger. It smelled like a burger. It tasted, well, almost like a burger.

The first lab-grown beef hamburger was cooked and eaten in London on Monday. “We proved it’s possible,” said scientist Mark Post, who created the cultured minced meat in his lab at Maastricht University in the Netherlands. He said his hope is to come up with a new and environmentally friendly way to feed the world.

Although the burger was a culmination of a five-year research project, it took Post only three months to grow it, using stem cells harvested from a cow’s shoulder. “That’s faster than [raising] a cow,” he said. Stem cells not only proliferate rapidly but can differentiate into various kinds of cells: muscle cells, bone cells, etc.
They're now growing beef in a test tube! Do you see? Factories won't just be packing meat, they'll be growing it. How much is your cattle ranch worth now, Mr. Bundy? We saw in 2008 with the housing bust, the first intimations of this growing understanding. Land just isn't that big a deal, and as our buildings grow taller with the aid of incredibly resilient new materials, as food is increasingly created—literally from scratch—It's my bet that old-school tyrannosaurs like Vladimir Putin will wake up and discover to their dismay that they were playing the wrong game all along.

Thursday, April 24, 2014

Civilization and Islam — Venn diagram

Everyone, without exception, lives in a bubble, an area of individual consciousness made up of education, experience, and worldview. These bubbles naturally differ due to intelligence, lifestyle, and endless other factors. An Einstein’s bubble may be nearly coterminous with the walls of the universe itself; an imbecile’s may consist of little more than regular meals, a warm place to sit, and the occasional kind word.

In the modern era it has become fashionable to create and fully upholster one’s own bubble out of the rag ends of various ideologies, fads, and daydreams. To in effect attempt to establish an individual reality, more often than not at odds with the world as it actually exists. Such efforts quickly come up against individual limitations, both intellectual and emotional, but that doesn’t seem to discourage people.
The ubiquitous evasion which abjectly fails to absolve Islam of its mountain of guilt—for rape and murder most heinous and frequent—is that most Muslims are law-abiding and peaceful. The Venn diagram above is my attempt to display this Taqiyya-driven justification in a logical and symbolic manner.

We know there exists a world civilization. You might call this a "first world" civilization. Hospitals, schools, stores, and capitalism exist here, and life is full, plentiful—and usually long-lasting—for the vast majority of its inhabitants. In this civilization, murder, rape, theft, assault, and con-artistry—to name the most obvious—are not permitted. Performance of these "crimes" will immediately bring police and a justice system of one kind or another into play. Civilization cannot exist when these crimes against person and property are permitted, and therefore, committing them in civilized society risks universally dire consequences for the perpetrators. As westerners, we are indoctrinated from infanthood about these crimes and their consequences. Television, books, magazines, movies, music, as well as conversations and lectures from parents, teachers, religious leaders, and peers ensure that almost every civilized human being is assimilated into our mostly violence free western culture.

You'll notice in the diagram, that civilization and Islam are separate. The religion of Islam was created by a blood-thirsty warlord terrorizing an already barbaric world of constant violence, a world where the conquerors took what they desired and slaughtered all the strenuous objectors. Islam's rules and ceremonies are conducted seemingly in complete ignorance—or perhaps defiance?—of modern day advances in science and technology. For instance, fourteen-hundred years ago, there wasn't anything in the middle-eastern world like toilet paper, and so, after defecation, the followers of Islam were taught to wipe their soiled buttocks with their left hand. I suppose that when they could, they would then clean the soiled hand with water, but lacking water they were permitted to use dirt or sand.
O ye who believe! when ye prepare for prayer, wash your faces, and your hands (and arms) to the elbows; Rub your heads (with water); and (wash) your feet to the ankles. If ye are in a state of ceremonial impurity, bathe your whole body. But if ye are ill, or on a journey, or one of you cometh from offices of nature, or ye have been in contact with women, and ye find no water, then take for yourselves clean sand or earth, and rub therewith your faces and hands, Allah doth not wish to place you in a difficulty, but to make you clean, and to complete his favour to you, that ye may be grateful.

—Al-Ma'ida, Sura 5, Ayah 6[4]
To this day Muslims don't do anything with the left hand, but wipe. They don't shake hands with the left, they don't write with the left hand, eat with the left hand, handle documents, books, or anything of value with the left hand. This custom is designed to ensure that traces of feces do not contaminate those things which Muslims must handle.

I mention all these things about Islam not to poke fun at its quaint medieval customs, but to illustrate a vital point that makes Muslim indoctrination into civilization difficult if not impossible. It's simply this: our daily behavior offends them on nearly every level. To a Muslim, we westerners are devourers of things grotesque, obscene, and filthy. When we gorge on swine, when we befoul our food with our own excrement by touching it with our left hand ... then we prove how sub-human and bestial we are—from their unique perspective.

Worse perhaps in their eyes is the way our western women parade around obscenely displaying their woman parts with a complete lack of modesty and decorum. Sluts and whores displaying their wares is all they are in the eyes of Islam.

The cognitive-dissonance created by western control and understanding of science and technology, combined with our complete ignorance of hygiene, proper behavior, and chastity must make Muslims feel like they'd just landed on Planet of the Apes. How can this be? they must wonder.

Even amongst themselves it's a constant battle to force their own brand of Islam onto all the other heretics who've got everything wrong. No, Ahmad! You're doing it all wrong! You have to wash the elbows and then the knees! Everything they do is influenced by their religion. They spend hours every day washing and praying. They take a month off every year for Ramadan. How can such as these ever become civilized? When fanatics lose their grip on reality and strap on an IED there's not a single Muslim on Earth who's surprised. The fact that some of them die of old age without blowing themselves to Jannah is the oddity.

What I'm doing here, is trying to explain why there can be no peace between us. When we send our architects and technicians to rebuild their factories and hospitals, when we send our doctors, our nurses to care for them, when we send our young men and women in uniform to attempt to maintain law and order, i.e. civilization, they kill them. They rape them. They blow them up and cut off their heads while chanting: "Allahu Akbar." To us in the west this seems stupid. It seems illogical. Why are they constantly biting the hand that feeds them? We don't understand because our venn diagram bubbles of experience and reality intersect in only the most tangential way.
KABUL, Afghanistan — Three Americans, including at least one doctor, were killed Thursday morning when an Afghan police officer turned his gun on them at a private hospital in Kabul, officials said, an attack that underscored the growing frustration with the Western presence here a decade after the war began. KABUL, Afghanistan — Three Americans, including at least one doctor, were killed Thursday morning when an Afghan police officer turned his gun on them at a private hospital in Kabul, officials said, an attack that underscored the growing frustration with the Western presence here a decade after the war began.

The shooting took place at Cure International Hospital, a 100-bed facility that specializes in the treatment of disabled children and women’s health issues, including fistula and premature birth. One of the physicians who worked at the facility was hosting three visitors from the United States, said Gen. Mohammad Zahir, the Kabul police chief. The three had taken a picture in front of the hospital’s entrance sign before going in, witnesses said.

A government official said the police officer, Ainuddin, a two-year veteran of the department, had only recently been assigned to the unit guarding the hospital. Witnesses and officials said he had fired on the Americans when they entered a security vestibule at the entrance to the building, killing them and wounding a female doctor. Ainuddin, who like many Afghans goes by one name, then entered the interior courtyard, where he continued to fire at foreigners, officials said.

Tuesday, April 22, 2014

What do you say when their argument boils down to "duh!"

There are none so blind as those who will not see. How is it that there are so many people living on this Earth who have already decided that they are so certain of the truth that they will never need to open their eyes again? Others possessing ornately lettered documents called degrees have taught young minds to listen to them—and only them. These professors said: "I have this degree, this pedigree, this laurel, this honor, and therefore I possess the entire truth of life and the existence of the universe. It's all so simple...you see it's just a magically fantastically stupendously impossible coincidence. Here is how it happened: See there was this big explosion. HUGE! It was the biggest explosion in the history of everything. And when the smoke had cleared, here we were. Any questions?"

Why no professor; I guess that covers everything ... well except ... what caused the explosion? Also, what was "it" before it exploded? Finally, how exactly is this a "scientific theory?" The Big Bang "theory" doesn't even attempt to explain what was there "before" the "Big Bang," and as far as I can tell completely ignores the scientific method in that no experiments have been performed to either confirm or deny the theory, and, even more alarmingly its proponents have assembled an entire arm of government to defend it and force its very debatable precepts to be absorbed without question by impressionable young minds and without even the merest possibility of logical or scientific debate. It's ... beginning to look a lot like ... an Inquisition! While there is plenty of evidence to confirm that matter in the universe does seem to have started from a unique point of origin, this one small fact—all by itself—does not explain anything! You can't take one isolated brick all by itself—with a daub of paint on it—and from that brick postulate the creation of the Sistine Chapel!

While scientists believe the universe began with a Big Bang, most Americans put a big question mark on the concept, an Associated Press-GfK poll found.

Yet when it comes to smoking causing cancer or that a genetic code determines who we are, the doubts disappear.

When considering concepts scientists consider truths, Americans have more skepticism than confidence in those that are farther away from our bodies in scope and time: global warming, the age of the Earth and evolution and especially the Big Bang from 13.8 billion years ago.

Rather than quizzing scientific knowledge, the survey asked people to rate their confidence in several statements about science and medicine.

On some, there's broad acceptance. Just 4 percent doubt that smoking causes cancer, 6 percent question whether mental illness is a medical condition that affects the brain and 8 percent are skeptical there's a genetic code inside our cells. More -- 15 percent -- have doubts about the safety and efficacy of childhood vaccines.

READER COMMENTS
The is nothing funnier than folk who don't understand basic grade school level science "arguing" it on messages boards... (April 21, 2014) MORE

The only thing this shows is how bad our education system is. It is also a pretty good illustration of "cause and... (April 21, 2014) MORE

No wonder so many republicans believe in myths like President Obama is Kenyan or trickle down economics. (April 21, 2014) MORE
Most of the more than three-hundred comments on this article were—as of the time of this writing—condescending, smug, judgmental, and most tellingly of all, devoid of non-fallacious content which could in any way shape or form, logically uphold their belief in the Big Bang theory or evolutionary theory. More than three-hundred comments from people around the world who read the article and had to put in their two-cents. And every single argument in favor of the commonly accepted scientific theory believed today, boils down to: Everybody—except idiots of course—knows it's the truth.

Q: So you believe in the Big Bang and Evolution because everybody else believes it?

A: Yes.

Q: Why does everybody believe it?

A: Because that's what they teach in science class!

Q: Why do they teach it in science class?

A: Because everybody believes it...duh!

Friday, April 18, 2014

It's not a swastika, you hysterical bedwetting libtards!

Quick biography folks. I was born in Arkansas, raised in Georgia ... well every other year (Army brat, parents divorced, joint custody) ... and I eventually settled down here in Memphis Tennessee. I watched amazed and I must admit quite a bit upset when legislators and the governor of Georgia decided to change the state flag. I wasn't alone in my outrage when the alma mater of both my father, and my brother—Ole Miss—decided to change its mascot. The football team is still called the Rebels, but I wonder for how long?


[Four students] at a private Catholic high school in South Huntington, N.Y., were indefinitely suspended for wearing a Confederate flag draped around their shoulders, CBS New York reports. The students, who brought the flag to an after-hours sports event at the Long Island school, have prompted outrage, according to the report.

“The African-American students who immediately saw it really exercised heroic restraint, and fortunately a teacher immediately confiscated the flag and took the students out of the gym,” Principal Gary Cregan of St. Anthony’s High told the station.

The seniors originally were suspended for only 10 days, but it was decided earlier this week that their punishment would be extended. Cregan also sent notes to parents making it clear that symbols “designed to revive past injustices or to inflame discrimination or racial intolerance, [are] completely unacceptable and profoundly offensive,” Newsday notes, according to CBS New York.
Down here in the south we call "indefinitely suspended" expulsion. Oh well, so these four foolish students won't be graduating with their peers this spring. That's too bad. It's unfortunate for them. It's also unfortunate for America. Did you know that the state of Mississippi to this day—the very last hold-out in the entire universe to my knowledge—still has those hated red-white-and-blue diagonal stars and stripes on their state flag? Well, I certainly hope no sporting match-ups happen between St. Anthony and some team from Mississippi. The entire student body of St. Anthony would have to "exercise heroic restraint" for an interminable period of time. That kind of hate-filled "racial intolerance" might infuriate the preternatural patience of all the Long Island fans to the point where every single one of them might just collapse in a frothing frenzy or maybe even a blood-pressure spiking stroke. And we surely wouldn't want that, now would we?

Isn't free speech funny? Did you know that it's protected speech if you get the urge to burn an American flag in public, or perform even more despicable acts with it? Furthermore the Supreme Court has ruled that Westboro picketing at military funerals is a-okay. Westboro Baptist Church is infamous for doing this. They are permitted to protest and hold up evil picket signs for the families of American patriots killed in action on foreign soil to endure while these families are trying to lay their sons and daughters to rest. Ah but if you dare to bring a Mississippi flag to Long Island ... well I guess there's just no telling what kind of imbecilic, beyond the pale, over the top, tempest in a tea-pot, star chamber, witch hunt you might face.

Southerners are not proud of slavery, but we are proud of our heritage. The vast majority of our ancestors weren't slave owners. Most of the southerners back then were dirt floor poor. The South didn't have that industrial revolution like they had up north. It was fields and fields of farms, and that's about all there was. That was back before tractors, irrigation systems, and scientific farming methods like crop-rotation and erosion control were discovered. They did the best they could with what they had, and at the same time—now folks don't let this blow your fragile little minds—they didn't know any better. It had always been the way it had been. Well, here we all are, a century and a half later, and we've been watching as libtards and progressivists rewrite all the history books. So you bedwetting hysterical jackasses in Long Island can take your entire high school, and fold the whole thing up into a brick and concrete origami dove, and shove it straight up your tight and narrow.

One last thing to think about if you think St. Anthony High School is doing the right thing by destroying the future opportunities of four students. First they came for the Southern flag, but you weren't a southerner and so you didn't speak up. Today they came for the American flag, but you're not a California moonbat so you probably didn't speak up. Tomorrow your own children could be expelled for draping an American flag over their shoulder at a football game, and sanctimonious libtards across the nation will vigorously applaud the decision.



There's a story that my daddy tells religiously
Like clockwork every time he sees an opening
In a conversation about the way things used to be
Well I'd just roll my eyes and make a bee-line for the door
But I'd always wind up starry-eyed, cross-legged on the floor
Hanging on to every word
Man, the things I heard

It was harder times and longer days
Five miles to school, uphill both ways
We were cane switch raised, and dirt floor poor
'Course that was back before the war
Yeah, your uncle and I made quite a pair
Flying F-15's through hostile air
He went down but they missed me by a hair
He'd always stop right there and say...

That's something to be proud of
That's a life you can hang your hat on
That's a chin held high as the tears fall down
A gut sucked in, a chest stuck out
Like a small town flag a-flyin'
Or a newborn baby cryin'
In the arms of the woman that you love
That's something to be proud of

Saturday, April 12, 2014

The "N" word: a double standard definition

How do you talk about the "N" word when you're white? If I was black I could say it a million times a day and people would just think I was stupid or insane, but since I'm white I'm not allowed to say a word that millions of black people say everyday with absolutely no negative consequences. Obviously this is a double standard, but black people excuse that double standard by claiming that they earned it. They earned it because...? Because some people they never met who shared skin color and physical characteristics were called that name a long time ago.

STOP!

Can you hear it? Can you hear the hammers hammering and the shovels digging as a legion of strawmen are erected by outraged apologists of the double standard status quo. In better days the question might be: "How dare you!?" Today that question would be asked in a ghetto patois of English laced with profanity and something else, something that used to be called jive, but is now unnamable in the same way that the "N" word is unspeakable. The race card is so over-played that liberals have built a monstrous ivory tower out of them. The shadow of that tower of race cards covers the entirety of America and in the darkness of that shadow the people suffer. They suffer and suffer, but the proud elites in their ivory tower built of jealousy and hatred and bigotry are happy with the status quo.

What is the status quo? Since the days of Jim Crow and segregation, since the days of Martin Luther King, Jr., since the days of Rosa Parks and garbage strikes in my home town of Memphis Tennessee, are things better for blacks? On a side note, I consider the term: African American to be the most asinine liberal construction since "sanitation engineer." "African American" has seven syllables! By the time you get to the end of it you're likely to have forgotten what you were talking about in the first place. Where was I? ... Right, the "N" word.

So, all sorts of double standards have been proposed by—we assume well meaning but misguided—liberals to improve the lot of the descendants of those who were terribly mistreated during slavery. Affirmative action programs were instituted. LBJ began his Sisyphean "war on poverty." These "programs" which began in mostly urban areas and which continue today in mostly urban areas have concentrated the poor—primarily black poor—into concrete jungles called ghettos. The people who live there were probably born there, they live there and have babies there, and they will probably die there.

Generation after generation, the numbers increase as more and more babies are born, live there, die there, and very few ever escape. There are all sorts of handicaps, mental ones and physical ones, but the ones hardest to see and perhaps also hardest to overcome are the emotional handicaps. Not having a father in your life is statistically proven to greatly decrease the likelihood of a positive outcome. A mother and a father are much more likely to raise a well-adjusted civilized productive citizen, while a single-parent household is much more likely to experience the opposite. The numbers vary from study to study but overall the black single-parent family rate is above 70%.

The data for Minnesota, Virginia, and Louisiana indicate that 67% of the firearm homicides (a rate of more than 14 per 100,000 people) occurred in neighborhoods with a racial composition of more than 30% African American, a per capita income of less than $25,000, and a population density greater than 640 people per square mile. The firearm homicide rate in the remaining 99% of the land area was 1.3 per 100,000 people. Predominantly African American communities that are not [low-income/high-density] and predominantly white communities that are [low-income/high-density] do not exhibit the Third World levels of firearm violence seen in predominantly African American [low-income/high-density] communities. Thus, the United States may have a culture of violence, but one that is isolated in easily identifiable communities.
Why is the "N" word so offensive when white people say it, but completely acceptable when black people say it? Yes I know racism, Jim Crow, lynchings, Ku Klux Klan, and a thousand other anecdotes. Fine...missionaries in stew-pots, plagues of frogs and seas of blood. If you go far enough back in time looking for a chip to put on your shoulder, there's always something. On The View recently, a liberal gaggle of "ladies" discussed the use of the "N" word. Skip to 2:22 for the big double-standard money shot.



Obviously there is a double standard. I think that this is true because the definition is also a double-standard. After watching the antics and the contortions of a society composed of the aggrieved, the guilt-ridden, and the rest of us who're starting to get seriously pissed-off about the whole thing, I wish to put forward both sides of this double standard definition.

Don't read any further if you're a member of either of the former groups, i.e. aggrieved or guilt-ridden. I'm about to spell out the "N" word in all it's nefarious arcane and sanctimonious scariness. If you don't want to be shocked by my arrogant flaunting of a double-standard that's been in effect since before I was born. Click the back button now.

WARNING BLATANT USE OF THE "N" WORD BELOW!

To me—an average white person—there are black people, and then there are niggers. Black people are your colleagues. They hold the door for you when your arms are full of packages. They wait calmly in line without drawing attention to themselves. They don't have baggy jeans sagging down so you know what their underpants look like. When they speak to you, you don't have to ask them over and over to repeat themselves. Niggers grow up in the projects with mama cashing welfare checks and paying for food with an EBT card. Now I'm not against helping the needy, and lord knows there's plenty of white people getting welfare and EBT cards. The difference to me is that when I see white people paying for their food with that red-white-and-blue card, they look uneasy. They look ashamed. I think you should be ashamed to live on welfare and food-stamps. I also think that niggers aren't ashamed. Also, oddly enough, there are quite a few white-skinned niggers out there. White people despise these "wiggers" more than you can imagine.

I believe that when black people say "nigger" they are claiming or affirming racial identity. By saying nigger—or niggah—they are saying in effect: you are people of my tribe and I am one of you. We are a team and ... whitey...he ain't! "Keeping it Real." means abstaining from any acceptance of the trappings of white civilization. Studying difficult subjects in school is not keeping it real, it's acting white, or being an uncle tom. Niggahs don't have to know that shit! Niggahs don't have to know all the complicated conjugations of the verb "to be". Just skip that shit niggah! Niggahs don't use possessives. That shit mine or it ain't mine. What you goan do about it?

So, two definitions. A white's definition of "nigger" is an indictment. It means a black person who refuses to be civilized, refuses to work for a living, has a basketball team of children with no husband by her side, and speaks in a way that makes it seem as though they are retarded. A black person's definition is that of membership within a group. A member of the tribe. White people are obviously not members of the tribe, and furthermore, the disdain conveyed by the term when used by a white person—even if they don't mean it and it's not pronounced audibly—is nevertheless virtually shouted when a black person or a niggah hears—or reads—whitey using that most controversial/sacred of words.

UPDATE 4/12/2014 1:32PM


In re-reading the above I realize I left out a critical premise. This is the very epitome of cognitive dissonance in action. Black people—in their deepest heart of hearts at least—must surely realize that a massive segment of their own population are absolute failures in every sense of the word. At the same time from the moment they're born they're taught how noble and proud is their culture, and their race. All through formal schooling this myth is fostered and embedded in their psyche. They're literally brainwashed from kindergarten on into believing that their ancestors in Africa invented civilization, and culture. If math and English is hard, it's because it's white math and white English. The reason they don't perform well—you see—is because it's somebody else's fault. No matter how they fail it's always somebody else's fault. It's whitey's fault. When a white person uses the term "nigger" it literally shatters their fragile misconception of their own place in society. Blacks on welfare and food stamps each believe that this is perfectly acceptable because they've been taught that whitey owes them something, and this use of the "N" word by whitey is a renunciation of that debt. It's a throwing down of the gauntlet and so represents a verbal slap in the face. You owe me they think and when whitey says I don't owe you a thing, they're set adrift as everything they've been taught is refuted and proven a deception by this one six-letter word.

The cognitive dissonance comes into play because realistically at some level, black people understand the way that the world is supposed to work. They understand that people are supposed to work for a living. They understand that other people look down on them because of their helplessness, because of their ignorance, because of their squalor, and because they refuse...refuse! to rise up out of it. The ghetto-blacks who've lived there for generations all tell each other what they want to hear. It's not their fault they reassure each other. It's whitey's fault. Excuses are passed back and forth, recycled, reused, and replayed with race card after race card excuse. However, when a white person dares to utter the forbidden racial epithet, all of a sudden like a gust of wind topping their tower of race cards, the cognitive dissonance is unable to be maintained and comes apart, often with furious consequences.

In that moment they know they are failures or at the very least they know that more than half their population living by their millions in third world-like ghettos are complete and utter failures. Forced to look in the mirror, they don't like what they see, and so lash out violently.

Friday, April 11, 2014

Prisoner's dilemma on the road

Two members of a criminal gang are arrested and imprisoned. Each prisoner is in solitary confinement with no means of speaking to or exchanging messages with the other. The police admit they don't have enough evidence to convict the pair on the principal charge. They plan to sentence both to a year in prison on a lesser charge. Simultaneously, the police offer each prisoner a Faustian bargain. Each prisoner is given the opportunity either to betray the other, by testifying that the other committed the crime, or to cooperate with the other by remaining silent. Here's how it goes:

If A and B both betray the other, each of them serves 2 years in prison
If A betrays B but B remains silent, A will be set free and B will serve 3 years in prison (and vice versa)
If A and B both remain silent, both of them will only serve 1 year in prison (on the lesser charge)

It's implied that the prisoners will have no opportunity to reward or punish their partner other than the prison sentences they get, and that their decision won't affect their reputation in future. Because betraying a partner offers a greater reward than cooperating with them, all purely rational self-interested prisoners would betray the other, and so the only possible outcome for two purely rational prisoners is for them to betray each other. The interesting part of this result is that pursuing individual reward logically leads both of the prisoners to betray, when they would get a better reward if they both cooperated.
A six-lane highway narrows to a two lane highway as it approaches what Memphis residents refer to as Malfunction Junction. Sam Cooper Blvd to the west crosses I-240 and becomes I-40. (Isaac Hayes Memorial Highway) Driving home eastbound on Sam Cooper, during afternoon rush-hour is a nightmare. Along a one-mile stretch, the three east-bound lanes narrow to two, then to one. As I approach this one-mile-stretch, I notice that the cars are backed up for more than a mile in the far-left lane—which is inching along at less than a mile per hour. The reason that they're moving so slowly, is because cars from the right two lanes are driving as far as they can and then they're pushing their way into the far-left lane.
Click the picture to see more detail.

The left-lane is going really slow because of the commotion where vehicles in the far-left lane are forced to come to a complete stop because pushy and reckless middle and right-lane drivers are forcing their way into the left lane traffic in an asinine game of sideways chicken. Most of the cars in the right and the middle lane already know that this traffic situation has been going on for over a month and the DOT has announced it will continue for more than a year, as they build new exits, overpasses, and additional lanes.

Here is why I think of it as prisoner's dilemma. In order to save themselves a few minutes of time waiting in line, inconsiderate middle and right-lane drivers hold up the left-lane of traffic, causing a responsible left-lane driver who gets in line as is expected, to wait in that left-lane line for as long as thirty minutes. If everyone would get in line on the left as soon as possible—a mile before the narrows—then everyone would get through in less than ten-minutes. Unfortunately this never happens, because—as I've mentioned before—too many drivers are selfish pricks.

Tuesday, April 8, 2014

Three simple rules of self-defense

DETROIT (WWJ) - As a 54-year-old Roseville man clings to life in the hospital following a brutal mob beating on Detroit’s east side, many are starting to wonder if the whole thing was racially motivated.
As first reported by WWJ Newsradio 950, an 11-year-old boy suffered a broken leg on Wednesday when he was hit by a pickup truck after walking into the street near Morang and Balfour. The driver, Steven Utash, immediately got out of his truck after hitting the boy and was viciously attacked by 10 to 12 men. The beating was so brutal, Utash was rendered unconscious.
The unfortunate fact of the matter, is that sometimes there's nothing you can do. If this man—Steven Utash—has been carrying a concealed handgun, it's possible he could have frightened the lynch mob away, but he probably wouldn't have had time to draw his weapon. Consider his state of mind. He had just struck a small child with his truck. He was worried about the health of the child and probably also worried about whether he'd be charged with a crime and/or sued. A crowd gathered—as they always do when something like this happens—coalescing around Steven who was already in a compromised emotional state. When the first punch was thrown it must have come as a complete surprise. This punch was a catalyst—or possibly a prearranged signal like the starting pistol of a 100-yard dash. Then, like a school of black piranha tasting blood in the water, they all converged wanting their own bite of white flesh. If Steven had been carrying a pistol, Detroit coroners would most likely have had the task of extracting Steven's own bullets from his body.

First Rule of Self-Defense: Stay in your safe zone. If you're white and you live near a city full of racist black people, don't go there! Don't do business there. Don't spend your money there. Don't visit friends who live there either; instead mail them some cash for a U-Haul and wish them the best of luck in escaping. Thirty-five years ago when I was twelve years old, I walked quite a ways down a particular street after dark. A black woman sitting on her porch yelled to me: "White boy what you doing here? Turn round and go back where you come from. You don't want to be down here."

She was right; I didn't belong. And that was before the Democrat-Media-Complex—and race hustlers like Sharpton and Jackson—had spent another thirty-five years stoking black fury, exacerbating black rage, seeding black jealousy, and teaching black people the kind of unwavering blind hatred of whites that caused—and continue to cause—black flash-mobs. If I walked down that same street late at night tonight, I seriously doubt a kindly black woman would warn me away. You might be Bruce Lee. You might be Rambo. I don't care who you think you are; if you walk or drive into the wrong part of a city like Detroit, you're going to regret it.

Second Rule of Self-Defense: if you're going to fight back, fight like an animal. Most people just curl into a ball and take the beating, praying that the mob will be merciful and only put them into intensive care. If you fight back you have to win or they will certainly kill you. Therefore if you fight back, win that battle and all future battles as well.
The people behind Ender grabbed at him, to hold him.

Ender did not feel like laughing, but he laughed. “You mean it takes this many of you to fight one Third?”

“We’re people, not Thirds, turd face. You’re about as strong as a fart!”

But they let go of him. And as soon as they did, Ender kicked out high and hard, catching Stilson square in the breastbone. He dropped. It took Ender by surprise he hadn’t thought to put Stilson on the ground with one kick. It didn’t occur to him that Stilson didn’t take a fight like this seriously, that he wasn’t prepared for a truly desperate blow.

For a moment, the others backed away and Stilson lay motionless. They were all wondering if he was dead. Ender, however, was trying to figure out a way to forestall vengeance. To keep them from taking him in a pack tomorrow. I have to win this now, and for all time, or I’ll fight it every day and it will get worse and worse. Ender knew the unspoken rules of manly warfare, even though he was only six. It was forbidden to strike the opponent who lay helpless on the ground; only an animal would do that.

So Ender walked to Stilson’s supine body and kicked him again, viciously, in the ribs. Stilson groaned and rolled away from him. Ender walked around him and kicked him again, in the crotch. Stilson could not make a sound; he only doubled up and tears streamed out of his eyes.
Ender's Game is a great young-adult novel—loved by forty-seven-year-olds as well—that explores the concept of total victory. If a pack of animals surrounds you and you rip the pack-leader's throat out in your teeth, the pack will disperse. Remember that they attack in packs because they are cowards in their hearts. Their numbers make them brave, but the kind of genuine savagery displayed by a wild-carnivore fighting for his life will break their morale, and they will disperse in fear.

Third Rule of Self-Defense: discretion is the better part of valor. If you can run away ... RUN! Yes Rambo I'm talking to you. George Zimmerman's life was destroyed even though he was acting purely in self-defense. He went looking for trouble, but trouble was already looking for him. At the point where he found himself on the concrete with a broken nose and his assailant raining an MMA-style ground-and-pound down on him, it was already too late for Rule Number 3. He was left with a choice between intensive care or death, and the life-destroying option that he chose. Don't be George Zimmerman!

Life isn't fair. As my parents always used to remind me, "fair is where you go when you're looking for cotton candy." Is it fair that in a free country we can't walk or drive down a city street without fear of being attacked by a vicious mob? Is it fair that if we fight back we're the ones who will probably go to jail and not our attackers? Is it fair that the Democrat-Media-Complex will create a false-narrative, interview the most deceitful witnesses, ignore and refuse to report any extenuating circumstances or exculpatory evidence?

We don't live in the same country our parents grew up in. America has traveled far down a dark road and if there is a kindly voice in the dark advising her to turn around, she can't hear it. There's a storm coming. His storm! It's time to hunker down in a safe place and wait it out.

Monday, April 7, 2014

Living in a mental Porta-Potty


Every experience that we live through changes us. Sometimes it's major like a near death accident, an earthquake, tornado, hurricane, flood, mugging, rape, et cetera, but usually our daily experiences change us very little. However, keep in mind that many little changes in a particular direction can move us quite a long way.

Why are we the way we are? Why do we believe what we do? Do you have a bad temper? Do you find yourself angry or jealous at the success of some particular person? Are you romantically attracted to a certain type of human ideal and are you conversely, repelled by normal aberrations from that ideal? When you find yourself in an antagonistic situation, do you try to deescalate the tension or do you exacerbate it?

Our genetic predisposition is certainly a major component defining who we are, but experiences during our lives further refine and define us just as much as our genetic pattern. For example, even a champion bloodline could nevertheless result in a horse that never crosses the finish line first, because of mistakes in training. Our genes and our experiences define us. If you were raised from infanthood by a pack of wolves instead of a human family you would be ... well you'd be pretty messed up. Meanwhile a wolf pup raised by a human family would probably end up as a loveable and gentle family pet.

Everything we experience leaves a mark on our psyche. So why do we allow the constant mind-pollution of popular entertainment to continually scar us emotionally? You wouldn't want to live in a public restroom, even with free rent, bed and a television set. The smells and noises coming from the stalls would change you—would warp you! The experience would make you bitter and angry ... here comes another drunk with diarrhea. Why me?

Easter is coming up, and with it, another loud and boisterous family gathering where relatives and friends get together to eat and talk. The women will be gossiping quietly in little groups of three and four, while the men—ten to fifteen—will all be where the big television is portraying the obligatory playoffs of the NFL, the NBA, or perhaps Major League Baseball. For Thanksgiving we'll watch football. For Christmas and Easter it will be basketball, and on Independence Day it will be baseball.

I, on the other hand, will be in neither a small huddle of women pondering the latest on-going Nancy Grace missing person case, nor perched on the last available corner of a cushion in the den, held spellbound by the mind-numbing intricacies of overpaid athletes risking their lives—or at the very least their livelihoods—in a contest of both skill and chance. I an completely uninterested in runs batted in, errors, rushing yards, passing yards, offensive rebounds and personal fouls.

My kind of entertainment is fictional. Imaginary characters experiencing unimaginable difficulties and surviving through will power, a whole lot of luck, and maybe a little magic. One of my favorite writers—George R.R. Martin—has become phenomenally successful and his book series—A Song of Fire and Ice—has been serialized on television using the name of the first book: Game of Thrones. While the television version has it's appeal, I'm a little put off by the in-your-face sexual escapades of all the characters. These constant pornographic goings-on might be implied or suggested in the novels but on TV they've made it downright raunchy, and usually quite disturbing. It's like a cut of juicy steak served in a dirty ashtray. I wouldn't say it's ruined, but Game of Thrones has a whole new flavor that I find a little off-putting.

There is another kind of entertainment that constantly plays in the background of our lives. Music is playing in stores, during television shows, with jingles in advertising, in movies, at baseball games, et cetera. The funny thing about music is that it can manipulate people emotionally without them even being consciously aware of it happening. The simplest and most obvious example is the jarring hair-raising discordant music playing before the cat leaps out of the closet in a horror flick.

My favorite music is melodic and peaceful. I don't like the bass driven rhythmic monotone rhyming of hip-hop. I also don't like the pointless guitar solos, pointless auto-tuner mangled lyrics, and endlessly repeated refrains of pop music.

I focus on advertising as I would on the tricks of an adversary. Play your jingle, and chant your asinine corporate slogan and I will fight back with a chant of my own. No, I wouldn't want to be an Oscar Meyer wiener, but I have an idea what you guys can do with one.

One of the most dangerous things people do everyday, is ride around in a one or two ton hunk of plastic and steel—with ten to twenty gallons of incredibly flammable accelerant on board—traveling at speeds that would terrorize a cheetah. This doesn't sound too smart when you think about it. Society doesn't want you impaired or distracted while piloting these incredibly dangerous machines. No driving under the influence of alcohol or drugs and no talking on the phone or texting while driving.

Presumably, if government could ever enact the desired legislation, eating a two-handed triple cheeseburger or a bowl of soup while driving would be similarly verboten. Therefore it's with some confusion that I wonder why the car radio is not under similar scrutiny. I've often heard cars coming before they were visible. How can someone experiencing that kind of distraction be considered unimpaired?

While my own experience is merely an anecdote and certainly not proof of anything, I can tell you with absolute conviction that the background music playing in my car affects my driving style. With rock or country music playing I find that I'm a more aggressive impatient driver. Furthermore, an endless stream of radio commercials makes me tense and uncertain. My solution is Vangelis Radio when I'm driving and a great book when I'm relaxing. Society is more deranged, violent, perverted, jealous, angry and sad than ever before and it's no wonder, since we've all been living inside a main-stream-media created mental Porta-Potty for most of our lives.