The Machine
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The Machine
I've noticed a steady increase in the number of articles by women who identify themselves as baby-boomer generation feminists in which they express regrets for many of the things the Feminist Movement has done and for what it has become. They say that perhaps things have gone too far.
This is all well and good I suppose, but it doesn't mean much. I mean, it's just too late. The feminists have built the largest and wealthiest Political Action Committee in the entire United States. It took them less than 1 year to accumulate enough wealthy donors to surpass the NRA as the biggest influence in Washington, D.C. The courts and all our legislators immediately took notice. The politicians of both parties are anxious to do as much as possible to avoid the Feminists' corporate-funded, tax-dollar supported, tax-free, religious, man-hating wrath.
Most women say they don't entirely agree with what this modern so-called women's movement has become. But they still defend it, saying that it has done many good things along the way. Many men say the same, often without really thinking about it. Despite all the slaughter, despite the ruined families littering the past 30 years, despite the revival of legalized slavery through the Family Courts, despite the celebrations of murderers and sex-offenders whose victims were simply the "wrong" sex, there are always many anxious defenders of this movement simply because it claims to have done some good deeds.
The Nazis brought Germany out of the worst economic depression the world had ever seen. They built a prosperous and victorious world power out of the ashes of a slaughtered nation. Women and children were literally starving in the streets when the Nazis came to power. They grew rich and secure at the height of the Nazi's power. The entire nation was rebuilt and expanded to be more glorious than it had been before. There were jobs and pride in the achievements of fascism. The Nazis did all this amazing work in an incredibly short amount of time. What they did for Germany amazed the entire world.
Many American corporations willingly supported the Nazi Party, just as they do the Feminist Machine today. Many churches supported the Nazis and fascism with its' foundation of faith in salvation through social justice and eugenics. The Nazis did, despite all their wrongs, many good things during their quest for power, according to most people at the time preceding World War II.
Many people today say that it was the American taxpayers who rescued Germany and not the Nazis at all. Many social scientists say that most of the changes in gender roles that took place during the rise of the modern Socialist Feminist Movement were happening anyway, and had nothing to do with Feminism. Like the man marching in front of a parade, the parade would have gone on without him.
It hardly matters now if the Feminists' Socialist Machine has done many terrible wrongs and injustices. It doesn't even matter if many of the women behind it now express mild feelings of regret. It has taken on a life of its' own. It is rich and powerful and corrupt. It is arrogant and cold-blooded. It is self-righteous, unrepentant, and bent on destruction. It is fueled by hatred and greed and an insatiable lust for power. There is no stopping it now. There is no fixing it. There is only time, which covers the ruins of fallen civilizations with dust. Eventually new civilizations rise up and rebuild over the graves of the past, erasing all signs that they ever existed at all.
In the meantime, Heaven help any man, woman, or child who gets in the way of The Machine.
This is all well and good I suppose, but it doesn't mean much. I mean, it's just too late. The feminists have built the largest and wealthiest Political Action Committee in the entire United States. It took them less than 1 year to accumulate enough wealthy donors to surpass the NRA as the biggest influence in Washington, D.C. The courts and all our legislators immediately took notice. The politicians of both parties are anxious to do as much as possible to avoid the Feminists' corporate-funded, tax-dollar supported, tax-free, religious, man-hating wrath.
Most women say they don't entirely agree with what this modern so-called women's movement has become. But they still defend it, saying that it has done many good things along the way. Many men say the same, often without really thinking about it. Despite all the slaughter, despite the ruined families littering the past 30 years, despite the revival of legalized slavery through the Family Courts, despite the celebrations of murderers and sex-offenders whose victims were simply the "wrong" sex, there are always many anxious defenders of this movement simply because it claims to have done some good deeds.
The Nazis brought Germany out of the worst economic depression the world had ever seen. They built a prosperous and victorious world power out of the ashes of a slaughtered nation. Women and children were literally starving in the streets when the Nazis came to power. They grew rich and secure at the height of the Nazi's power. The entire nation was rebuilt and expanded to be more glorious than it had been before. There were jobs and pride in the achievements of fascism. The Nazis did all this amazing work in an incredibly short amount of time. What they did for Germany amazed the entire world.
Many American corporations willingly supported the Nazi Party, just as they do the Feminist Machine today. Many churches supported the Nazis and fascism with its' foundation of faith in salvation through social justice and eugenics. The Nazis did, despite all their wrongs, many good things during their quest for power, according to most people at the time preceding World War II.
Many people today say that it was the American taxpayers who rescued Germany and not the Nazis at all. Many social scientists say that most of the changes in gender roles that took place during the rise of the modern Socialist Feminist Movement were happening anyway, and had nothing to do with Feminism. Like the man marching in front of a parade, the parade would have gone on without him.
It hardly matters now if the Feminists' Socialist Machine has done many terrible wrongs and injustices. It doesn't even matter if many of the women behind it now express mild feelings of regret. It has taken on a life of its' own. It is rich and powerful and corrupt. It is arrogant and cold-blooded. It is self-righteous, unrepentant, and bent on destruction. It is fueled by hatred and greed and an insatiable lust for power. There is no stopping it now. There is no fixing it. There is only time, which covers the ruins of fallen civilizations with dust. Eventually new civilizations rise up and rebuild over the graves of the past, erasing all signs that they ever existed at all.
In the meantime, Heaven help any man, woman, or child who gets in the way of The Machine.
You have read this article with the title August 2004. You can bookmark this page URL http://thebohemianbunny.blogspot.com/2004/08/the-machine.html. Thanks!
Dead Man Walking
On Sunday afternoon My Wife and I went to Shelby Farms to walk around the lake. I've been sick for the past 3 weeks ever since we went there and mountain biked on a previous Sunday afternoon.
We arrived at Shelby Farms and walked around the lake, which is slightly over 1 mile, without incident. As we were deciding to walk a 2nd lap around a blonde woman dressed in yellow came running past us yelling about CPR and a man dying over by the pier. We looked toward the pier and saw nothing. Then we saw other people begin to run towards her to find out what was going on. She ran to the road as a Memphis police cruiser drove past. She tried to wave him down, but he didn't see her. I tried to wave to him, too, but he didn't see me either.
We weren't sure if we had heard the woman correctly and she was now too far away to shout to. So My Wife and I walked towards the pier to see if someone was there who needed help. She had CPR training and I have had a little, too. But we saw nothing. People were fishing and paying no attention. So we walked on.
After we had walked about 100 yards more, around a bend and a hill, we saw a group of people far up ahead all circled around what appeared to be a man lying on the grass. We began to head towards them when a firetruck came up behind us, pulled onto the trail and raced by.
By the time we reached the man an ambulance and a Memphis police cruiser had passed us on the grass and the firemen were already hard at work pumping the man's chest.
The paramedics got out some of their equipment and began to work on the man while one of the firemen continued trying to pump the man's heart. The man was dead.
The woman who had been trying to flag down a cop came running past us, very upset. She had waved to the cop and he had driven past her. She complained to anyone who would listen that she had been on the phone with 911 and they kept asking her the address for Shelby Farms. There is no street address for Shelby Farms that I know of and apparently she didn't know of one either. Everyone who has lived in Memphis for more than a week knows where Shelby Farms is. A dispatcher should certainly know, too.
She said she had told them the man was on the side of the park nearest Walnut Grove Road and that he was dying. But the dispatcher kept playing dumb, asking for the address of Shelby Farms, saying nothing about any help being on its' way.
The woman was still very upset and clearly needed someone to talk to. I couldn't tell if she was talking to me or the man next to me and I wasn't sure how to react. She was just talking. "I should have done more. I don't even know CPR. I couldn't do anything," she said nearly in tears.
The man next to me said, "You did all you could. You called for help."
She talked on about the police officer being rude when she spoke to him and the dispatcher being dumb. She cried about feeling so helpless and not being able to do something more. People began talking about a man who died playing pool just a few months ago because the dispatcher took over 30 minutes to send anyone to help, repeatedly asking for the address and repeatedly being given it.
I watched for at least 15 minutes as they pumped the man's chest, observing how CPR is done in a real world situation as compared to what I learned in class. The paramedics began trying to siphon the man's throat in case he had a blockage, but it seemed to do no good. Finally they loaded him into the ambulance. He was not breathing and they were still trying unsuccessfully to start his heart.
The woman said, "he was jogging and then he just started to walk. His eyes were rolled all the way back in his head and he stumbled up towards the hill before he collapsed. It's been a good 15 minutes from the time I saw him until they got here. I don't know what I could have done. That stupid dispatcher acted like she didn't even know where Shelby Farms is! I've only lived here a month and even I know where it is. How could she not know?!"
I wondered who the man was. He was taken away in the ambulance, but did anyone know his name? If he is anything like me then he carried no I.D. on him while he was running. How would his family even know what happened to him? How would anyone know to tell them? How long would they have to wonder why he never came home?
We finished our walk and got in the car to head home. As we were leaving I noticed an odd looking person walking around the lake in our direction. We passed them by on our way out. It was a woman. Sort of. She had a hateful sneer on her face and when she saw me looking at her she turned to glare viciously at me. It was Lesbian Elvis.
We arrived at Shelby Farms and walked around the lake, which is slightly over 1 mile, without incident. As we were deciding to walk a 2nd lap around a blonde woman dressed in yellow came running past us yelling about CPR and a man dying over by the pier. We looked toward the pier and saw nothing. Then we saw other people begin to run towards her to find out what was going on. She ran to the road as a Memphis police cruiser drove past. She tried to wave him down, but he didn't see her. I tried to wave to him, too, but he didn't see me either.
We weren't sure if we had heard the woman correctly and she was now too far away to shout to. So My Wife and I walked towards the pier to see if someone was there who needed help. She had CPR training and I have had a little, too. But we saw nothing. People were fishing and paying no attention. So we walked on.
After we had walked about 100 yards more, around a bend and a hill, we saw a group of people far up ahead all circled around what appeared to be a man lying on the grass. We began to head towards them when a firetruck came up behind us, pulled onto the trail and raced by.
By the time we reached the man an ambulance and a Memphis police cruiser had passed us on the grass and the firemen were already hard at work pumping the man's chest.
The paramedics got out some of their equipment and began to work on the man while one of the firemen continued trying to pump the man's heart. The man was dead.
The woman who had been trying to flag down a cop came running past us, very upset. She had waved to the cop and he had driven past her. She complained to anyone who would listen that she had been on the phone with 911 and they kept asking her the address for Shelby Farms. There is no street address for Shelby Farms that I know of and apparently she didn't know of one either. Everyone who has lived in Memphis for more than a week knows where Shelby Farms is. A dispatcher should certainly know, too.
She said she had told them the man was on the side of the park nearest Walnut Grove Road and that he was dying. But the dispatcher kept playing dumb, asking for the address of Shelby Farms, saying nothing about any help being on its' way.
The woman was still very upset and clearly needed someone to talk to. I couldn't tell if she was talking to me or the man next to me and I wasn't sure how to react. She was just talking. "I should have done more. I don't even know CPR. I couldn't do anything," she said nearly in tears.
The man next to me said, "You did all you could. You called for help."
She talked on about the police officer being rude when she spoke to him and the dispatcher being dumb. She cried about feeling so helpless and not being able to do something more. People began talking about a man who died playing pool just a few months ago because the dispatcher took over 30 minutes to send anyone to help, repeatedly asking for the address and repeatedly being given it.
I watched for at least 15 minutes as they pumped the man's chest, observing how CPR is done in a real world situation as compared to what I learned in class. The paramedics began trying to siphon the man's throat in case he had a blockage, but it seemed to do no good. Finally they loaded him into the ambulance. He was not breathing and they were still trying unsuccessfully to start his heart.
The woman said, "he was jogging and then he just started to walk. His eyes were rolled all the way back in his head and he stumbled up towards the hill before he collapsed. It's been a good 15 minutes from the time I saw him until they got here. I don't know what I could have done. That stupid dispatcher acted like she didn't even know where Shelby Farms is! I've only lived here a month and even I know where it is. How could she not know?!"
I wondered who the man was. He was taken away in the ambulance, but did anyone know his name? If he is anything like me then he carried no I.D. on him while he was running. How would his family even know what happened to him? How would anyone know to tell them? How long would they have to wonder why he never came home?
We finished our walk and got in the car to head home. As we were leaving I noticed an odd looking person walking around the lake in our direction. We passed them by on our way out. It was a woman. Sort of. She had a hateful sneer on her face and when she saw me looking at her she turned to glare viciously at me. It was Lesbian Elvis.
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The Olympics are coming
Get used to seeing this face.
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Platinum Spark Plugs from Hell
OK, this is hardly an inspiring blog, but maybe it will help someone somewhere, and thus serve some higher purpose.
Several years ago when I worked at the local Giant AutoParts Retailer corporate headquarters I got a discount on their parts. So naturally I put the best and most expensive parts on all my cars. Who wouldn't? At some point my Nissan pickup started to run funny. It wouldn't idle right, acting as if it was about to stall, but then it would speed back up all by itself. I couldn't figure it out so I finally gave up and took it to a mechanic. After 2 days of not hearing from him I called to check on my truck.
"Have you figured out what is wrong with my Nissan?"
"No. I can't figure this damned thing out. It is the weirdest thing I've ever seen."
He didn't actually say it quite like that. He was far more colorful in his speech, but my blog has enough cursing on it already so I took the liberty of removing some 'f' words from his response.
I was relieved that he couldn't figure it out, actually. I had worked on that truck for a long time and couldn't find the problem. I know I'm not stupid, no matter what some people say, so having a professional be as stumped as I was made me feel a little better.
Finally, after about a week they said my truck was ready.
"What did you do?"
"We took those platinum spark plugs out. Nissans don't seem to like them. Now it runs fine."
They kept my platinum tipped +4 overpriced spark plugs, I might add. I don't know why they didn't give them back to me. I don't know what I would do with them, but I paid for them and they cost quite a lot.
1 year later my wife's car has a problem. It stumbles randomly, usually on uphills, but never while in cruise control. No one, and I mean no one, can figure this out. The stumbling gets worse. Months of this go by and I have searched the internet, talked to every mechanic, had it looked at by half the men in Memphis, and still no one has a clue.
I remove the Bosch platinum spark plugs and replace them with cheap Bosch copper plugs. I remove the K&N air filter and replace it with a cheap paper filter.
The problem goes away.
Sometimes you get what you pay for. Sometimes you don't. For whatever this is worth, I will never use platinum spark plugs in anything again. I don't care if they are given to me and fit my lawn mower. I won't use them anymore. Some race car drivers in Europe had posted some complaints about them. They said the tips are too small, probably because platinum costs so much, and so the surface for the spark is insufficient. Who can say? I just know they ran like crap in 2 of my cars and gave me headaches.
Several years ago when I worked at the local Giant AutoParts Retailer corporate headquarters I got a discount on their parts. So naturally I put the best and most expensive parts on all my cars. Who wouldn't? At some point my Nissan pickup started to run funny. It wouldn't idle right, acting as if it was about to stall, but then it would speed back up all by itself. I couldn't figure it out so I finally gave up and took it to a mechanic. After 2 days of not hearing from him I called to check on my truck.
"Have you figured out what is wrong with my Nissan?"
"No. I can't figure this damned thing out. It is the weirdest thing I've ever seen."
He didn't actually say it quite like that. He was far more colorful in his speech, but my blog has enough cursing on it already so I took the liberty of removing some 'f' words from his response.
I was relieved that he couldn't figure it out, actually. I had worked on that truck for a long time and couldn't find the problem. I know I'm not stupid, no matter what some people say, so having a professional be as stumped as I was made me feel a little better.
Finally, after about a week they said my truck was ready.
"What did you do?"
"We took those platinum spark plugs out. Nissans don't seem to like them. Now it runs fine."
They kept my platinum tipped +4 overpriced spark plugs, I might add. I don't know why they didn't give them back to me. I don't know what I would do with them, but I paid for them and they cost quite a lot.
1 year later my wife's car has a problem. It stumbles randomly, usually on uphills, but never while in cruise control. No one, and I mean no one, can figure this out. The stumbling gets worse. Months of this go by and I have searched the internet, talked to every mechanic, had it looked at by half the men in Memphis, and still no one has a clue.
I remove the Bosch platinum spark plugs and replace them with cheap Bosch copper plugs. I remove the K&N air filter and replace it with a cheap paper filter.
The problem goes away.
Sometimes you get what you pay for. Sometimes you don't. For whatever this is worth, I will never use platinum spark plugs in anything again. I don't care if they are given to me and fit my lawn mower. I won't use them anymore. Some race car drivers in Europe had posted some complaints about them. They said the tips are too small, probably because platinum costs so much, and so the surface for the spark is insufficient. Who can say? I just know they ran like crap in 2 of my cars and gave me headaches.
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Dead End Programmer
After years of college and still more years programming in C in various versions of the Unix operating system I find my specialty approaching a dead end. Looking out on Monster.com I see more ads for COBOL programmers than C programmers. In fact, I see more ads for just about everything than I see for C programmers.
I had plenty of training in Java, but never got to use it. My rocket scientist boss had other ideas so the training was all for nothing, apparently, as no one is placing ads saying "if you're trained in Java but haven't used it please apply." Nope. No experience, no job. Thanks Sun Microsystems, your classes were great, but I wasted my time it seems.
I'm tired of babysitting someone else's application and holding meetings with people who look at me like I'm an idiot because my speciality isn't Oracle Administration or Unix System Administration, which I've done in the past, but not lately.
By God, if Bill Gates is the devil then I may end up in Hell because I'm studying Visual Basic.NET and Visual C++.NET right now. Actually the Visual C++.NET is right up my alley since I was already trained and somewhat experienced with C++ and OOP. But nothing in Unix is similar to the Visual Studio IDE so I've got to get comfortable enough with that to be able to look a potential employer in the eye and say "I can do it. Give me a damned job. I'm a Microsoft Man!"
Goodbye Unix, or Linux, or Sco, or whatever new trend sweeps the server world. Microsoft is the future as far as I can see and I intend to get on with it.
Funny how this blog ended up. I think I got on to write something about farts or ..., no, it was donkey f---ing. Some girl posted about hot lesbian donkey f---ing and I was going to post about it, but somewhere along the line I just got lost in thought. Stress tends to do that to a person, you know.
I had plenty of training in Java, but never got to use it. My rocket scientist boss had other ideas so the training was all for nothing, apparently, as no one is placing ads saying "if you're trained in Java but haven't used it please apply." Nope. No experience, no job. Thanks Sun Microsystems, your classes were great, but I wasted my time it seems.
I'm tired of babysitting someone else's application and holding meetings with people who look at me like I'm an idiot because my speciality isn't Oracle Administration or Unix System Administration, which I've done in the past, but not lately.
By God, if Bill Gates is the devil then I may end up in Hell because I'm studying Visual Basic.NET and Visual C++.NET right now. Actually the Visual C++.NET is right up my alley since I was already trained and somewhat experienced with C++ and OOP. But nothing in Unix is similar to the Visual Studio IDE so I've got to get comfortable enough with that to be able to look a potential employer in the eye and say "I can do it. Give me a damned job. I'm a Microsoft Man!"
Goodbye Unix, or Linux, or Sco, or whatever new trend sweeps the server world. Microsoft is the future as far as I can see and I intend to get on with it.
Funny how this blog ended up. I think I got on to write something about farts or ..., no, it was donkey f---ing. Some girl posted about hot lesbian donkey f---ing and I was going to post about it, but somewhere along the line I just got lost in thought. Stress tends to do that to a person, you know.
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Politician Within Range
John Edwards came to town yesterday. He was all spiffed up and shining like the bumper of a 1959 Cadillac. He wanted us all to know how important it is that we vote for John Kerry and not George Bush. This reminds me of the time 4 years ago when Julia Louise Dreyfuss called my house to tell me how important it is that I vote for Al Gore and not George Bush. I don't know if she was as shiny as John Edwards, but I'm sure she was glowing with enthusiasm.
Meanwhile, in my mailbox on that same day I found a letter from George Bush and the Republican Party. It was addressed to Stephen Joens and wanted to know if I was a patriot and thus inclined to give money to the Republicans. Inside was a lovely photo of Mr. Bush instead of the nude photo of his niece that I had been hoping for.
At least when John Kerry annoys me I get to see his daughter naked. It's not much consolation, but it's something.
Why is it illegal to shoot politicians? They are far less useful or attractive than a deer or a rabbit and yet we have entire seasons in which you can shoot those animals. What is the benefit of a herd of incredibly wealthy ivy league trial lawyers in Armani suits? Can't we build fences to keep these bastards off our property? Couldn't we ship them off to protected lands in Alaska and thus be left the hell alone? They could make lovely speeches to one another and be serenely happy without ever once having to cross the path of a regular American.
And the grizzly bears could hunt them freely, license or no.
See, it's win-win. Why doesn't anyone ever listen to my ideas?
Meanwhile, in my mailbox on that same day I found a letter from George Bush and the Republican Party. It was addressed to Stephen Joens and wanted to know if I was a patriot and thus inclined to give money to the Republicans. Inside was a lovely photo of Mr. Bush instead of the nude photo of his niece that I had been hoping for.
At least when John Kerry annoys me I get to see his daughter naked. It's not much consolation, but it's something.
Why is it illegal to shoot politicians? They are far less useful or attractive than a deer or a rabbit and yet we have entire seasons in which you can shoot those animals. What is the benefit of a herd of incredibly wealthy ivy league trial lawyers in Armani suits? Can't we build fences to keep these bastards off our property? Couldn't we ship them off to protected lands in Alaska and thus be left the hell alone? They could make lovely speeches to one another and be serenely happy without ever once having to cross the path of a regular American.
And the grizzly bears could hunt them freely, license or no.
See, it's win-win. Why doesn't anyone ever listen to my ideas?
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Woman at Work
I was assigned to work with a woman on a big project. She is very pretty and seems to be fairly smart. She always dresses well and looks flawless. Most of the men here at work are attracted to her, especially since she's single. But they are all married so it's just too bad for them.
To her credit, for a woman so attractive she is surprisingly friendly and nice. I know few women as attractive as she is who are as approachable. Even so, I swear I see something in her eyes.
I realize that few men have any ability at all for figuring out what women are thinking from just looking in their eyes. I am certainly no master of women's minds, but I know what I think I see.
When I look in this woman's eyes and she looks back at me I swear I see her thinking: "I have a gun. If you ask me for a date or anything that might be mistaken for a date I'll projectile vomit right in your face. Tell me you didn't mean to wear that shirt with those pants. Who gave you that awful haircut? You smell like onions. You bought that watch at Wal*Mart, didn't you? I hear you drive a dirty old truck. Stop looking at my ass. Stop talking to my chest. Just say what you came to say and move along. I would rather die than to ever be trapped alone in a room with you for any reason."
So, as you can see I don't think she likes me much at all. She's nice enough to me. And I need her help from time to time. But I get a pretty strong impression that she would rather chew off her arm than to be friends with me.
I wonder if I really do smell like onions?
To her credit, for a woman so attractive she is surprisingly friendly and nice. I know few women as attractive as she is who are as approachable. Even so, I swear I see something in her eyes.
I realize that few men have any ability at all for figuring out what women are thinking from just looking in their eyes. I am certainly no master of women's minds, but I know what I think I see.
When I look in this woman's eyes and she looks back at me I swear I see her thinking: "I have a gun. If you ask me for a date or anything that might be mistaken for a date I'll projectile vomit right in your face. Tell me you didn't mean to wear that shirt with those pants. Who gave you that awful haircut? You smell like onions. You bought that watch at Wal*Mart, didn't you? I hear you drive a dirty old truck. Stop looking at my ass. Stop talking to my chest. Just say what you came to say and move along. I would rather die than to ever be trapped alone in a room with you for any reason."
So, as you can see I don't think she likes me much at all. She's nice enough to me. And I need her help from time to time. But I get a pretty strong impression that she would rather chew off her arm than to be friends with me.
I wonder if I really do smell like onions?
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