I think I mentioned in the comment section a glorious conversation I had with my stoner, loser, father in law. Let me expand the conversation so you can laugh and cry along with me.
First, I was down in FL on very short notice to fix up my POS condo that was to be sold. The tenants had trashed the place so I needed to paint, make a few repairs, and get the carpet replaced. Since this is Florida, you can’t count on anyone other than your own cheesebag. Hired cheesebags will stiff you, leave you wondering, and steal the cabinets from the walls if left unattended.
So there I was, after driving 8 hours, busting my ass for two days to repair said shit hole, when my asshole father in law invites me for dinner. Great, I say. No problem. I’ll meet you at your mom’s house (not a euphemism) and we’ll go our for Messican.
Out of the shower and I’m ready to go. Plans have changed, we’re going out for Vietnamese but whatever. I’m hungry and looking forward to some fun with GNDs grandma (she’s 91 and sharp as a tack) and her uncle, who is basically a Hostage. They’re awesome people and serve as a shield to my AHFIL. When I look at dear sweet grandma and ask her if she wants to ride with me, she informs that she’s not going. She thought it would be nice if AHFIL and I could spend time together.
The world stopped. I had gone deaf. Nothing made sense. I blinked, tried to gather my shit and desperately tried to control the fear and shock spreading across my face.
My mind instantly went to the scene in The Empire Strikes Back where Luke, missing a hand, beaten to a pulp, and hanging over the edge of an impossibly long fall, finds out he’s the spawn of Darth Vader. If I were in that situation and Vader was my AHFIL and he informed me in his deep, mechanical voice that he is indeed taking me out for Vietnamese for dinner alone, I would have fucking jumped too. Sweet death take me now.
I have a dream…
But the dream is a nightmare. You are here, and you can’t wake up. Critical race theory is a night terror and you’re pinned the bed hoping your limbs start working again. The color of your skin trumps the content of your character.
I’ve been thinking a lot about how to challenge bad ideas and although it’s a cliche, we need to start countering bad ideas with good ones. Many of us face the woke stasi at work and because we’re decent people we keep our heads down. We let them have their struggle sessions and go back to doing our jobs – you know, what we’re there for.
But the cold hard truth is that they’ll never stop. Ever.
Recently I wrote a letter to my boss letting her know that I won’t be attending any more ‘voluntary’ sessions and you know what happened? Nothing. She told me I didn’t have to – and then we had a meeting on racial microagressions the following month. I felt good for a moment but the SJW train just keeps rolling on.
And that got me thinking. If the JEDIs (they don’t like SJW anymore – JEDI is way cooler) are ok presenting politics at work why aren’t we? Are we afraid we’ll suffer some negative consequences for proposing alternate points of view? Probably.
We need to get over that fear. They’re using it to their advantage, creating a culture where bad ideas can’t be criticized.
It’s not enough to opt out or write a SWL (strongly worded letter). We need to propose struggle sessions that take apart critical race theory, show microagressions are simply the result of demand outstripping supply, and that power dynamics aren’t the root of all interactions.
Shorter MJ: post modernism and neomarxim can suck my dick.
Counterweight is an organization started by Helen Pluckrose to counter the bad ideas presented as ‘science’. The resources are good and can provide an answer to the question, ‘where do I start?’
Note: the struggle sessions aren’t being pushed by my boss but she’s complicit because she ‘asks’ her employees to attend. I give her the benefit of the doubt – she has no idea what she’s talking about and doesn’t realize she looks like a fucking idiot, as do all of the leadership, when they push this stuff.
My next steps are to find out who identifies and creates/buys the struggle session content and have them work on opposing points of view. If he or she balks, I’ll fire them as soon as I can. I expect my project to take 6 months. I’ll give you regular updates.
Shortest MJ: War.
My grandma’s favorite song. She passed before I ever got to really know her, but rumor has it she was kind of an amazing gal. My mom gets teary eyes when she hears it.
My family is from the Ozarks in Missouri and my grandma insisted the family move to California so they wouldn’t be redneck. Never-mind the fact that their front yard was full of shot gun shells from shooting at squirrels (I used to walk around and collect them for whatever reason) and dead crows hung from the trees because they thought it’d scare the crows from eating their crops. When their house caught fire and burnt down, they rebuilt it with a wood burning cook-stove again. No modern appliances needed, thank you very much. These “rednecks” would give you the shirt off their backs if you showed up at their house. Unexpected visitors would get a full meal. I’d watch them pull out a metal coffee can, spoon some bacon grease out of it, put it in a cast iron skillet and cook you a fine breakfast, with fresh made corn bread to boot.
Farm people are a tough breed. I remember in my grandpa’s end days he lived with us and he fell….hard. He broke some ribs and his leg. My mom asked him if he wanted some cornbread before she called the ambulance. Old guy insisted on having fresh made cornbread from scratch before the ambulance was called because he knew the food would suck at the hospital.
Sometimes my grandpa would feed the hogs day old donuts and I can remember my cousins and I running out to the trough to get to them before the hogs did….why? Cuz chocolate. STFU THEY WERE ON TOP, OK?
I always thought this was a neat little newspaper article about my grandma’s parents.
I dunno, I guess I’m just waxing nostalgic today.
Romy’s song she put in chat deserves some love.
This is going to be 90 minutes that we’ll never get back. Joe Biden is one of the dumbest guys to grace the national political stage. Everyone knows this. His family are grifters, his wife is a power hungry hag and his political round table is made up of old, fat, corrupt guys that have absolutely no issue with putting a hand up a skirt or 3. Fuck this guy sideways.
BIDEN
VS
GEOTUS
The Official Sports Team of The Hostages
Get TITS2 & The H2 Stuff
Curing Mental Illness since March 2009 