We are off to see the wizard. Well, maybe not. We are, however, embarking on a long-scheduled soar across the pond and a sail from Barcelona to Athens. Hopefully, the smoke will not follow us on the jet stream. Even more so, three weeks from now, I earnestly hope someone with a few brain cells will put a serious damper on the hell fires consuming California that continues to spew smoke and ash on the fair state of Nevada. One can only pray and hope.
According to the most frequently cited critical race theorist, Ibram Henry Rogers, a.k.a. Ibram X Kendi, and his legion of anti-racist hucksters, I am a racist, but he is not. Any denial on my part is proof positive of my inherent racist cant, like the Kobayashi Maru[1] exercise, the “heads I win, tails you lose” no-win scenario. Sorry, Mr. Rogers and your ‘hood, but I, like James Tiberius Kirk, do not engage in no-win scenarios. Playing your game by your rules is a sucker’s bet, a no-win scenario which only fools dare to play.
More than a decade ago, I received sage advice which I have never forgotten but too often fail to remember. It is short and sweet but worth every letter—of which there are but two—and that is the simple word “N-O”. “Just say no.” How hard is that? And yet, so many of us hesitate out of fear of hurting someone’s feelings or what? Being cancelled? Or is it mere ambivalence? “You know, it is just not my problem.” When fear prevents us from just saying no, we accept a burden, a debt we did not incur of our own volition; we indenture our time and energy to the will of another.
I’m sorry, but is it just me or did I get up way too early and miss the last train back to the asylum? I don’t know about anyone else, but as Yogi Berra would say—did say—it’s seems like déjà vu all over again, and again, and again, and again…. Even a broken (analog) clock is right twice a day, but seems as though things have gotten so broke, I am beginning to doubt whether it is still possible for broke to be true or is it woke?
There is a new “old” show in town. The old show ran from 1977-1984. Called Fantasy Island, it starred Ricardo Montalban as the mysterious Mr. Roarke and Hervé Villechaize as his diminutive sidekick, Tattoo. The show always began with Tattoo pointing to the sky exclaiming, “Da plane! Da plane!” as the small aircraft fitted with pontoons landed and disgorged its guests. That was then, when guests could literally fulfill any fantasy they desired, though they rarely turned out as expected.
The Man in the Bubble: Silence in the face of evil is itself evil
Americans have been terrorized now for 500 days by the tyranny of “unelected public health experts” and their constant, strident reliance on the “science.” It is enough to make you sick—and it has, and “The beatings will continue until morale improves.” It is 500 days too long and its needs to stop … immediately!
Elementary, My Dear, Or Is It?: From Ignorance to knowledge and retreat
Editorial note: The title and subtitle on the inside page of this week’s issue was erroneously left unchanged from the previous week. I apologize for any confusion this may present.
Folks, I am neither a left- nor right-wing conspiracy theorist or nut job (though I am sure my public denial must make it so to those who would wholeheartedly believe otherwise) but I do believe the overwhelming evidence reveals there are indeed dark forces (re: deep state, big tech, and the complicit media) across this country and around the globe deliberately and maliciously playing the public for fools. Now is not the time to close your minds to what is going on, now is not the time to sit back, relax, and eat bonbons. Now is the time to keep an open mind and above all else to stay informed, listen to alternative sources of information (not the mainstream media or big tech social media,) and make up your own mind on what is going on. The worst thing you can do is remain uninformed and firmly convicted of that which you know little or nothing for that is what the powers that be are counting on the most.
