Monday, 18 March 2013

The Moral Superiority of Sloth. Why being a Peon is Fun and Rewarding

      What a wonderful thing it must be. How nice the feeling of warmth and coziness, knowing that, by giving all ones faith and hope to a person...a powerful person....a god-like person, all wants and needs will be sufficed.
      Then, once invested in the surety of security and protection provided by a god-like person, one can move ahead in life knowing that all inconveniences, wants, needs, and retributions against enemies can be assured.
      Of course, it is especially good to know that that god-like person will also torment the millionaires and billionaires, and force them to pay their fair share....and determine when too much is too much....and teach them a lesson they will never, never forget.  Lessons about revenge, democracy, and the need to abolish private property....and guns.
      Hugo Chavez's casket with and without a hearse, depending on the foul condition of the horrid "subdivisions" of Caracas.   Freely flowing sewerage to all to enjoy, a frequent by-product of social democracy, are splashed through by pall-bearers, hearses, and the children and the mobs of slobs who were moaning a few hours before, "Who is going to take care of me?"  The slightly more thoughtful moaned, shrieked, and cried out, "Who is going to take care of us?"

      Is this the brave new world of social democracy?   The Obsolete Press is proud of it.  They see it as a certain sign of victory.   For, so long as there are masses of totally self-centered slobs, with pitiful filthy little babies who suddenly "appear",  and there are dunces who do a bit of hand labour for three or four days....develop a small handful of shekels...go and spend it on aguardiente and whores....and then go back to the shack (sometimes) and leave some woman with a watermelon in her belly....and then go back to the bar with the whore and the aguardiente....then IT WILL ALWAYS BE THE FAULT OF GEORGE BUSH, THE RICH, THE PROFESSIONAL AND PROPRIETOR CLASS, THE MIDDLE CLASS, AND THE REPUBLICANS/CONSERVATIVES/NATIONAL ACCION PARTY or facsimile, and the left will always have its windmills.
     We must remember that the Left does not want to ever, ever solve a problem.   These social problems that are seen in the jumbles of hovels in Caracas and the public housing projects in the United States, and similar places worldwide can only be solved by a vibrant free enterprise system.   Capitalist have proven too often that they are willing to put on the five pounds of make-up and the net-stockings for grovernment social engineers....GM, GE...and a hundred thousand always leads to more poverty, or war, or some other method of transfer of wealth to billionaires who are socialists....George Soros, John Kerry, the Kennedys, and a hundred thousand others.   Prince Charles come to mind but he is useless even to his own kind.   AlGore is doing a polka on the head of pin...way he will not remain in the club much longer.   Ross Perot was a little smarter with his government provided largess.
     But the Left does not want to solve these problems because it is by having all the problems presented by dependent peons that they gain (1) their voting base and (2) their perpetual motion machine of a windmill that produces those problems that they can blame on me, and my kind, and you, the OROGs,  because you happily, grumpily, and actively work to your own self-interest and responsibility 30 to 110 hours per week...every week...60 weeks of  every year....and even share your wealth with the Salvation Army.   When you know the Central Government is better qualified to "help" the "Poor".   Sheeeeeesh!

    And You and I are the dumboes and we are the guilty....because our industriousness has, according the Left, caused someone elses poverty.   There is plenty of energy to sell drugs, to make pointless murals and pointless gang graffiti, to beat old women senseless for three dollars to
buy another bottle of aguardiente or a can of glue....but work???   worK?
     It reminds one of the woman in Atlanta who had 10 children was demanding to know, "Who's gonna feed all these children??"   Oddly this woman had two brothers and a sister, all black folks, who petitioned the family courts so as to be able  to take the children.   But the courts said no.  And the mother fought the forced adoption because, as she so eloquently stated, "If you takes my babies, then I will lose my checks."    Her brothers and her sister  were evil people because they provided for themselves and others and wished to lead their nephews and neices into the same brightness and optimism.  The wondrous works of peons and dumboe family court judges.

all credit for this following inclusion goes to the New Yorker Magazine

We urge accessing the linkage below the article for a series of

January 28, 2013

The Tower of David: A Look at Venezuela Under Chávez

       In his piece on Venezuela last week, Jon Lee Anderson writes about the failed city of Caracas by way of the Tower of David, a looming and dilapidated structure that he describes as “a ziggurat of mirrored glass topped by a great vertical shaft, [rising] forty-five stories above the city.” The Tower, which can be seen from almost anywhere in Caracas, is a symbol of the downward spiral that Venezuela has experienced under Hugo Chávez’s rule.
The Spanish photographer Sebastian Liste met Anderson in Caracas to photograph the Tower. Liste described the experience of photographing the world’s tallest slum in what he says is a hostile, unpredictable city: “Nothing compares to the experience of walking up the dark stairs, one by one, haunted by thoughts of what might come next.” In what he calls “a dance between the eyes of the security guards in every corner and the movement of my arm which holds the camera,” Liste captured in stark detail the condition of the Tower’s residents and those of its surrounding neighborhoods, as well as the chavistas who poured into the streets of Caracas in support of their ailing leader.
Here’s a look:

     In Mexico, aguardiente is pretty much what it says it is.  In Venezuela the vernacular is "cristal".   But the word 'aguardiente' steadily has come to replace numerous local names frequently derived from even worse, harsher and more unstable "ready made" hooch.   Tesquino among the Ruramuri (Tarahumara) for instance is one of hundreds of local distillates (theirs is made from corn) that would better have been used to power German V-2 rockets.

This is what decent, but still very potent aguardiente
looks like in a decent saloon.   El Gringo Viejo would
without a second thought, recommend mescal, which
is made from agave, and is also potent..110 to 130 proof
depending on the maker/bottler.   Makes better mixers
and works well with Coca-Cola....but it is still not for
     Aguardiente is, in Mexico, almost always made from sugar cane fluids.  It is distilled under questionable conditions at times, alth0ugh the bottles under bond and label is safe more or less (depending on the drinker) to drink.   There are several bottled brands that are recognisable in sure that the bond cap is unopenned upon purchase.
     The word means ardent is a contracted word coming from aqua and ardiente.  Fire water....or fiery water.   In Mexico the distillate is made from the leftover fluids from the original squeeze of sugar cane.   It has a lot of impediments that are thought to even be "healthy" for people.   As one might hear, "Everybody knows that aguardiente is better for you than rum." and whoever says that needs to be left by himself at the bar, while you go to a dominoe table and drink your beer or pulque....or rum for that matter.    Aguardiente, truth be told, almost always is between 120 and 125 proof, never lower and sometimes higher.  It burns.  Good aguardiente is cheaper than a mediocre rum.
     It is best used, if at all, as a very, very minor addition to an otherwise non-alcoholic punch made especially of mango, orange, grapefruit, mandarin, guayaba, guava, and mineral waters.   Any combination of any or all of the above but no Coca Cola.   And a maximum of 5% of total volume is more than sufficient to "liven up" a party.   Believe me.
     The condition of poverty in Venezuela, as elsewhere, is due to misdirected energy, distracted activity, and milling around while intoxicated in bars full of putas.   These activities generally are not thought of as really good career devel0pment activities.    Trafficking in dope on the corner....and then going to the cantina  with the money and buying aguardiente, straight in a double juice....after about 2o rounds tends to do more damage to a person than listening to Rush Limbaugh.   But, of course, he and El Zorro and El Gringo Viejo will get the blame....because we have guns, and vote for Herman Cain and Alan West...and listen to Dr. Carson....because we're racists.
Yes, Virginia, the poor will always be with us.
The progressives need them so as to justify their noblesse oblige
by spending other peoples' money on them.
Your task, Virginia, and
 to serve as the "other people".
   But, please be sure, that the slums are well studied and their origins and development have been measured in every possible way, since long, long, before the time of Hugo's Les Miserables and  Dickens's A Christmas Carol, and Oscar Lewis's Five Families  and his other work The Children of Sanchez  do a very good job of pointing out the causes of poverty...but only Lewis assigns the causatives to anyone other than the "rich" .   Rich, to a marxist, means anyone who is self-supporting.   We shan't assign a particular gene or chromosome to this problem, because there are too many Johnathan Livingstone Seagulls who fly to success who contradict the idea that the total cause of sloth, stupidity, self-defeating deportment, and criminal impulses is totally genetically controlled.

Don Quixote, his horse Rocinante and
 his squire Sancho Panza after an
 unsuccessful attack on
 a windmill. By
     There are times when El Gringo Viejo tires of trying to slay his own enemy windmills, those structures intentionally standing in the way of my path and my accomplishment.   But my arms grow wearier by the weight of the lance.   The armour I must wear becomes burdensome to my bones.    Thanks be to all, and the glory goes to Yahweh as He moves his good through the Universe.
El Gringo Viejo