I Am A Racist? Really?


Recently, I posted my opinion on the cop killings and BLM on a blog. Basically, it ticked off the liberal white guilt trip pack. This is my response. No holds barred. I would apologize for the language, but it is heart felt and honest, so I won’t. Lets just day I kept it as clean as I could.

I’m a Racists? Really?

So, you lot seem to think I am a racist, or whatever, because I am telling you what MY experience with the black and white people in the south has taught me. Okay. Soooo, your point? Look, I have lived in 11 countries, ONLY in the US do we have this idiocy of promoting a race war. In England, New Zealand, Germany, any other place I have lived, people are just people. Skin color does not matter. Here it is promoted by the progressive left who have done their best to keep black people divided by their color. It began after the Civil War and it continues today. I assume, and that may be asking too much, that you DO know the background of the democratic party and their promotion and development of the KKK and all the Jim Crow laws that abound throughout the US. It started in the south, but it spread across the country like wild fire.

After the Civil War, many black men were elected to state and federal positions, as soon as possible the white democrats kicked them all to the curb using the Jim Crow laws, continuing the division between blacks and whites. Then came good old Woodrow Wilson, who was a hugs supporter of Margaret Sanger, and who supported eugenics. That means the killing of all babies she thought were being born to people who were obviously too flawed to be real humans. All blacks, many of the uneducated, Catholics, Jews, and the poor. Nice people.

Following them of course, is Johnson, who as soon as Kennedy was dead, brought in the lovely Great Society. It is well known that he loathed black people and thought that they were sub human. So, since he couldn’t enslave them like they used to be, he and his cronies come up with a GREAT idea! Wanna guess? No? Let me enlighten you a bit.

1. First, make welfare easily available and pack it with all sorts of goodies, based on how many kids you have and how much you can scam the system.

2. Emasculate the men of color. Make big daddy government in charge and tell them that they are no longer needed to keep a family solvent.

3. Tell them that they are victims, victims, victims, over and over and over until all the kids believe it, and they stop striving to improve and learn. After all big daddy will take care of them.

4. Tell them they don’t need to work. And kids drop out of school to hang on the corner Uninspired, uneducated kids end up getting into trouble. Soon, it becomes cool to be a loser with no ambition or dreams.

5. Then tell them that family isn’t important. Take that and add to it the way in which black women are encouraged to abort their children, and make it government supported and suddenly there is no reason for a mom and dad, because if a girl gets pregnant, there are no consequences.

6. Fast forward to present day, and you have the creep in the white house promoting racism by continuing the false narrative that black people are victims, and all white people OWE them because we are ALL racists at heart.

7. With no one to teach the last three generation of men how to BE leaders and men of authority and strength, most young men haven’t a clue what real men are like. So they start looking up to the strong man in their area – drug dealers, thugs, pimps, etc. and decide to emulate them.

8. With no man to teach them right from wrong and the value of respect, they have none for anyone except the strong man among them who keeps them in line with violence and anger.

9. Therefore, cops, among any others with authority, are treated like they are the enemy. And that is founded on the way in which SOME bad cops treated them before folks learned better. Like 40 years ago. Yes, there will always be someone who is an asshat that wants to force respect and control, but they are few and far between.

10. Now we have thugs and criminals in charge and everyone is afraid to stand up to them. Cops just doing their jobs are killed, targeted, and the thugs in the bogus BLM groups are screaming kill all the white babies! Murder all the white people! And cops still go out and do their job with huge targets on their backs.

Now, compound the issue with the still progressive slave overseers on the plantation of the democratic party bringing people on stage who are screaming that their son was killed by cops and it is all the fault of the cops. Really? Check their kids police record first, enlightening stuff. But, hey, more money for them paid by the city who is afraid to stand up to evil.

But, I am a racist. As a life long conservative, I am ANTI anything the democrat progressives promote – like modern slavery via welfare and their desire to destroy the black family and dreams. So, I am a racist. Really? I make things divisive by saying that folks up north are different concerning race than down here. Because, ladies and gents, I have lived up north, and there is a difference in attitude. I don’t know why, but there is a lot more racism from both sides there than there is here. Probably one reason is that we have learned by living in close proximity that we need to cooperate and get along to get anything done.

When I was a kid the black people in town may have lived in their own community, but there were doctors, lawyers, business men, clergy, teachers, writers, artists, musicians, hard working men and women who had pride in themselves and in their community,. They had dreams, plans for the future, plans to help their kids be better, do better, live better than they did. They had honor, and integrity. Many black people today have that same drive and ambition and honor. But many many more have bought into the progressive victim propaganda and as such have lost their way.

I honestly don’t care what color anyone may be. I have lived in far too many places to see people as anything other than people. Maybe with different customs and social behaviors, but still just people. It pisses me off that in this day and age people in the greatest country in the world (even with an ass in the white house) is willing to fall for this crap. Racism is a state of mind, so just change your damned mind and get over it. Too many folks on both sides of the issue are caught up in the blame game and victimization and white guilt. Get over yourself. And get RACE out of the politics. At the same time, more and more black folks around here are standing up to the BLM crap and telling them to piss off. The whole BLM thing is insulting to them.

ALL lives matter, cops, black, white, Asian, Hispanic, green, yellow, rainbow alphabet, men, women, children, and undecided. NO ONE is better than anyone else, but then, I am divisive and racist. Actually, what I am is fed up with the navel gazing, arm chair, holier than thou, progressive idiots who want to keep blacks enslaved and whites superior – but then, I must remember I am a racist.

Pity Me, Pity Us


I read this article from Salon by Julia Bount.

http://www.salon.com/2015/04/29/dear_white_facebook_friends_i_need_you_to_respect_what_black_america_is_feeling_right_now/?upw

This is my response:

What a load of pity me, pity us. Because you allow, ALLOW yourselves to be victims, and once you are, you wallow in the whining and refuse to take responsibility for your actions and for the lack of parenting and fathers who stick around to BE fathers.
This is NOT a black and white issue, one of the officers charged is a black Female!! This is a flat out, rabble rousing issue by the likes of the pot head in chief and the likes of Sharpie Sharpton.

Every thing on that pity me list screams victim.

I hear hopelessness

Not just a black issue. Poor people all over the world feel this way. Think you have it bad? What about the women in the middle east who suffer just because they are women? Beaten, raped, murdered, just because they are women. Compared to them, the worse off black American is living in luxury and freedom.

I hear oppression

The only people oppressing black people, are the democratic/progressive party and black people. Sharpie Sharpton WANTS you to be oppressed. That’s how he makes his living. So do the political left, that’s how they make their money. The more the government interferes with your life, the more dependent you are on them, the more they get to keep you as mental and emotional slaves. Oppressed? Really? Then break out and refuse to be. Not by riots and following the propaganda and brain washing, but by being a human being instead of a victim.

I hear pain

So do I. But not because of racism on the part of the white people. I hear pain because the black community destroys its own community. Violence, drugs, riots, burning down business owned by black people who live in their community. Two or three generations who have lived within the welfare system, but have every opportunity to get free of the grinding down of their dignity because they are afraid, or lazy, or it is easier to make money selling drugs and ruining even more people in their community. Self defeating behavior causes pain. Along with the fact that they have allowed themselves to become mentally enslaved by the system. All the opportunities given to anyone else are also available to black Americans, and probably more so than other folks.

I hear internalized oppression

Now there is a phrase: Internalized Oppression. That means that they SELF oppress. No one is doing it to them, they do it to themselves. Where did they learn that? Not from white people. Over my life span, I have seen proud, hardworking, business owning, educated, and wealthy black communities become ghettos of drunken, drugged, drop outs who spend their time on street corners doing nothing but encouraging each other to feel oppressed. Gangs are one of the most oppressive things in most communities, fostering fear and violence against their own, and if the police intervene, they whole community goes against them. Even if the gangs are committing horrific crimes. And then there are the professional riot folks hired by folks like Sharpie Sharpton and his pals telling everyone they are being brutalized by the white people. Again, it is easier to let someone tell you that you are a victim and believe it than it is to stand up and refuse to allow the government to tell you that you are unable to care for yourselves. Internalized Oppression – SELF defeat, SELF fulfilling prophecy.

I hear despair
I hear it too. From the people whose lives were destroyed by the riots. Those who will have no jobs from the fires. Those who will have no way to make a living now that their business is gone. I hear despair from white people who have done everything they can to prove that they are not racist toward black people. I live in the South, I don’t see it here. The only people in despair are those who feel they are being labeled as a racist just because of their skin color. The majority of Americans, by far, simply ignore skin color. WE DON’T CARE what color you are. We CARE about how you behave, treat others, and contribute to the community.

I hear anger

For what? Not getting every thing you want? Because you get arrested more than other folks? Have you ever considered the fact that the majority of crimes are committed by young black males? Don’t do the crime, don’t do the time. People of all colors get arrested and go to jail for many things. Get you kids off the street, make them go to school, make them understand that if they go to jail, then they will pay for the crime they committed. You think you are profiled? Well, duh, stop being the most criminal group out there. You blame it on white supremacy? Really? It isn’t just because you are black that you are watched closely by cops, it is because of the amount of crime the black people commit in certain communities. Preventing crime is the responsibility of the police. It is their job. And black people aren’t the only people to get hurt while being arrested. That’s what happens when you fight, argue, and taunt the police officers.

I hear poverty

Really? So do I. The poorest people in the US are the working poor. Blue collar workers who have to support their families on low income wages do without a lot more than those who can use their EBT card to buy everything from cigarettes to steaks. The hardest working people, the middle class, small business owners, those that keep the city and country functioning – including police, firemen and women, nurses, technicians, store owners, those that work hard to provide for their families so their kids will have more and do better than them – they also are taxed the most so that the EBT crowd can stay home and choose not to better themselves.

Poverty is not a black issue. There are people of all color who struggle to survive on a minimum amount of money. EBT people get free medical, free food, free lunches, free childcare, free education, free transportation in most cities, a place to live, and know where and how to get free food and clothing too. Black or white or brown or green with yellow dots, poverty is a real issue for many. And folks of every color are EBT people – sometimes for generations. By refusing to stay in school, having babies without daddies around to raise them, refusing to work menial jobs rather than accept welfare, anyone will find their community over burdened with poverty.

You say you have to worry all the time about your brother, cousins, friends, etc. being stopped by the police. EVERY person has that same worry. Because if you are breaking the law, then you get stopped. If you refuse to follow directions from the police, they you are arrested. If your community is known for violence, crime, and law breaking, then your community is watched more carefully to protect others from your violence, crime, and law breaking. Profiling only happens when it is merited. A lot of Hispanic and white communities bear the same burden.

Take responsibility for your actions. Black, white, rich, poor, behavior matters. There are always consequences for poor behavior.

Black lives matter. Of course they do. No one I know of who is white, has ever said differently. That mantra is from the likes of Sharpie Sharpton.

As the mother of an American Indian son, murdered by a white person, I could scream racism too. It wasn’t about race, it wasn’t even about the gun that was used, it was about a crazy man who decided to see how it felt to murder someone. Skin color had nothing to do with my son’s death. Someone’s evil decision and action killed him. And thank goodness the police and justice system were there to find the killer and lock him up so he could never harm another.
All Lives Matter.

It isn’t just a black thing.

It Isn’t A Tragedy


I over heard a conversation this morning between two women. It left me a bit gobsmacked and annoyed. It seems these two women have a mutual friend who had a kidney transplant via a relative. One woman said it was such a tragedy that their friend had to have a transplant. They went on to talk about how everyone needed to make allowances for her erratic behavior, and that she should be treated carefully as she recovered. After all, with someone else’s kidney in her she would never be normal.

I thought, “Tragedy?’ Not to me, it isn’t. That woman will live a long healthy life, she is not an invalid, she is not helpless, she is the product of the miracle of medicine and blessings. How can that be a tragedy? They acted as if having any transplant was something no one would ever want. What?

Tragedy is something that cannot be controlled, stopped, or overcome resulting in either an end of a life or constituting a complete change in circumstances for a survivor. Tragedy is losing a new mom to childbirth. Tragedy is a child with incurable cancer. Tragedy is a wounded warrior who has lost limbs, sight, ability to walk, or suffers brain damage or mental illness from serving in the war. Tragedy is a teenager committing suicide. Tragedy is a plane crash that kills 300 people. Tragedy is an old person freezing to death. Tragedy is the mentally ill on the streets of the country when they belong in a safe institution where they can be cared for, instead of suffering the effects of cold and heat, and the lack of food. Tragedy is losing someone to addiction to drugs or alcohol. Tragedy is having a funeral for a twenty year old girl whose death was sudden and unexpected. Surviving a kidney transplant is not a tragedy! It is, instead, an opportunity to celebrate a new and continued life!

What those well meaning women are doing is placing their friend in a box labeled perpetual victim. In pandering to her, giving her excuses for bad behavior, and creating a tragic attitude around her, they are making her weak, mentally, physically, and emotionally. In refusing to celebrate the miracle that her life is, they want to demean it. That isn’t friendship, that is an attitude of superiority. “Poor little thing, she will never reach her full potential,” one of them stated. The other agreeing and doing the Southern thing when faced with perceived tragedy, shaking her head, and murmuring, “Bless her heart.”

I don’t get it. I really don’t understand their attitude, especially treating her as if she is fragile and unable to cope with surviving. She isn’t one bit more special than anyone who has survived a horrific illness. Instead of encouraging her to be helpless, they need to stand behind and beside her as she moves forward into a strong, healthy life. Instead of lowering their expectations for her life, they should be the best of cheerleaders, celebrating each and every milestone in her recovery. And, the last thing they need to be doing is enabling helplessness. I repeat, she is not an invalid. The only tragedy in her life is that her friends see her as a victim who will never be normal instead of a survivor.

“Inaction is not an excuse for failure to thrive.”


“Inaction is not an excuse for failure to thrive.”

I’ve noticed lately that a lot of people my age tend to simply stop. They stop doing fun things, they stop being involved, they stop thinking and growing intellectually. They just stop. Then they sit about and complain about how boring life is, how hard it is to do things they used to do, how much they wish they had done such and such before they got too old. They are failing to thrive in the late years of their lives. And there is no excuse for that- period.

I know, things are a bit harder to do when knees hurt,backs don’t want to bend, and the body gets tired much easier than it did at the age of forty. We all have to slow down,but that doesn’t mean we have to stop. It may take longer, but there is no reason not to at least try.

Years ago there was a movie entitled Cocoon followed by another, Cocoon Returns. If you haven’t seen them, I suggest watching them at least once. It starred a lot of “stars” who were getting quite elderly. All stuck in a nursing home, waiting to die, fussing at one another, etc. Until things change due to a visit from the aliens. Look, I know it is really a sappy story, but what I loved about it was the willingness of almost all of the elderly folks to embrace that which was different. If their youth didn’t return, their joy for life certainly did. And, at the end of the day, their inaction became action, and their lives infinitely better.

Another movie I loved was Driving Miss Daisy, a stellar performance by one and all. Again, another character that defies the tendency to just sit down and stop. Fried Green Tomatoes is a fantastic film. Kathy Bates and Jessica Tandy were great together and the flashback between Mary-Louise Parker and Mary Stuart Masterson is equally dynamic. At the end of the day, we are still not sure which woman Jessica Tandy was as the elderly friend of Kathy Bates. Ambiguity saturates the film, while turning Katy Bates’ character from a meek doormat into a woman filled with confidence. And, of course, the character played by Shirley Mclaine in Steel Magnolias is just like I want to be when I get old.

I see many older folks off and doing things all over the world. They travel, explore, serve missions of compassion – regardless of sore knees and aching backs. They move, act, and they live every minute of every day. That is what I want to do too.

When our youngest son went off to college, my husband and I decided to work our way around the world. Eight years later, we finally returned to the US. As we were raising our granddaughter, she went right along with us. We lived in London, Hong Kong, and New Zealand, and only came back to the US due to health issues and the awful Socialized Medical care in NZ. We traveled all over each region and were enriched many times over by our experiences.

But I was in my forty’s when we did that. Now I am sixty, and it is going to become more difficult to do some of the things we did. So, we chose other things to do so we could travel. A cruise or four, a road trip across the US, and our big adventure this year is to travel across country by train. I don’t hike for miles any longer, but I sure can sit and enjoy the view from the train.

So there is no excuse not to thrive, people. Just get up, take a few steps, find a hobby that fulfills you, volunteer as a surrogate grandmother to rock babies at the hospital. Volunteer at the schools or libraries to help kids with their reading skills. Go help out a nursing home if you have a talent like playing the piano. There are a multitude of things you can do to overcome the lack of inertia and sedentary inaction. For me, being with my grandchildren is one of my greatest motivators. I write, I hang out on social media sites, I keep up with friends and work on my family history, and I am planning on taking art lessons. I have always wanted to learn how to paint. That will be so much fun!

So, you are old, so what? Inaction is not an excuse for failure to thrive. Just because your body is starting to creak and moan, it doesn’t mean your brain isn’t functioning. (Unless you have a serious condition, of course.) With all the medical miracles out today, most of us will live well into our eighties or nineties.

I have a friend who is ninety-eight. For the several decades, she has traveled the world following the performances of the operas of Wagner. All on her own, she would jump on a plane and off she would go to Italy, France, Germany, or any place in the world that the operas were being performed. What an amazing lady

who just kept on going like an Eveready Battery. She is running down now, but she is still in control of her life and decided to go home until the end of her days. It is heartbreaking, but at the same time, what a life she has had! Even now, she keeps busy with doing her family history and chatting with her friends and family.

Even if you are homebound, unable to walk, unable to drive, so what? There are a million things you can do to keep your brain healthy and busy. Never just stop and wait to die. We all have a finite amount of time here in this life. I could spend it worrying about death, or I can just get on with living while I am still here.

The more we let inaction rule our lives, the less likely we are to live a long life. Not just because our bodies need to move to function well, but because our brains atrophy at an alarming rate. Inaction is not an excuse for failure to thrive. But it is only you that can take that first step. I can’t wait to become a feisty old woman who says exactly what she wants to say about everything.

Come on people, get up, find a cause, reason, purpose, or passion to fill your life. Go on!

 

Ride From Amarillo


Ride From Amarillo

Today I caught a ride from Amarillo, Texas to Gallup, New Mexico. The old geezer that picked me up was a hard case from some place up north. He didn’t talk much at first, but he was friendly enough. Most old guys won’t pick up a hitchhiker these days. I look kinda rough too since I ain’t had a shave or bath in three days. I don’t know what made him stop, but I sure was glad to have lift. It was getting’ hot standin’ on the road with my thumb out.

About 60 miles down the road, the old guy asked if I was hungry. I wasn’t gonna tell him I didn’t have no money to eat, but he said he would be happy to get me a burger or something. So we got off the highway and pulled into a burger joint. It was one of them old kind where someone comes out to your car with a load of food and hangs a tray on the window.

When we headed back on the highway into the setting sun, he finally started to talk to me some. He asked all the same questions everyone asks me. I told him I was just wanderin’ cause I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life yet. Usually I get some sort of lecture about being sensible and finding some sort of career, but this old guy really surprised me because he did just the opposite.

He told me about when he was a young guy, younger than me, he ran off from home during the depression. He said there wasn’t food enough to feed him and he knew if he left his mother would have enough to eat. So he just up and ran off one day. Back then the times were real hard, and no one had much of anything so he took to riding the rails and learned how to survive from one day to the next. He knew what it was like to be hungry and alone, and he sure knew how much he appreciated it when folks would help him out by giving him a meal for doing any sort of work they could find for him. So he figured he owed it to someone to help out anyone who needed a helping hand. That’s why he picked me up, he saw a lot of himself in me and knew it was what he needed to do.

I asked him if he ever went back home after the depression and he said no. He said he got all the way up north to Washington State and found a job at a sawmill. He just stayed on and after a while World War II broke out. He enlisted in the Army and went off to war. While he was gone, his mom died, and all his brothers and sisters scattered during the war. He said he never really knew his dad, he left when he was still a kid. After the war, he went back to Washington State and got a job logging. Then after a while he met a girl and got married. They settled down and had kids, and life went on.

 He got real quiet then asked if I could drive for a while. So I got behind the wheel and he dozed off. As I drove west, through a sunset that turned the sky red and purple and the land blue and orange, I thought a lot about how it felt to be alone in a place where I didn’t know anyone. I thought a lot about the old man sleeping next to me and all that he had told me. He had lived a long life, and he had done a lot of things, but he had always remembered those first days when he was alone and scared and hungry. Those days painted his life in more ways than he had ever imagined they would. Because at 75 years old, he was still trying to pay back all the help he had been given from strangers.

 I wondered if I would be trying to pay back strangers my whole life too. I wondered how my mom would feel if I didn’t ever come back home, and she died wondering where I was. And I wondered how I would feel when I was 75. Would I feel a deep need to pay back the ride and meal from an old man who picked me up on I-40 outside Amarillo, Texas on a hot summer day? Deep inside I knew I would find a way to help someone else some day. And I knew I would go home again when I figured out what I wanted.

 After a time the old man woke up and we talked through the deep night until we got to New Mexico. He offered to put me up for the night but I said no thanks and he dropped me off at a truck stop. When I got out of the car, he gave me 20 bucks and told me to eat decent meal and get a shower. I went inside and made a call home to mom. She was glad to hear from me, but didn’t nag me to come home. I was glad about that. One thing has been bugging me for a while now. I didn’t think about it until he drove off, but that old geezer never did tell me his name.

I am going to catch some sleep back behind the truck stop. The cook said there was an old building back there I could sleep in. Tomorrow I want to try to make it into Arizona, but if I can’t catch a ride I may try to find some work around here so I can get some money up for the time being.

Re-Evaluating


I was reading a blog by Sarah A. Hoyt (Yes, the SF writer) that made me stop and think about how we all have to stop and take a look at where we are in life on a regular basis. http://accordingtohoyt.com/2012/08/02/im-not-that-guy

This is the response I posted on her blog.

I think many of us of a certain age go through that whole process you wrote about, no matter what career they chose and what kind of “fame” it creates – or not. We reach the point of self evaluation through many avenues, but at some point, unless very shallow or so lost in depression etc., it tends to happen.

I think it comes in stages throughout life. In our teens, we grow up and have to decide what the next step will be. In our 20’s we are striving to learn a multitude of talents to reach the step we decided on, often changing course and objectives along the way. In our 30’s we are generally in a long term relationship and having our children. Another big step for most of us because having kids is a very scary thing.

Then we hit 40. Oh boy, 40 . . . how the heck did that happen? It’s OK, because by then we have settled into house, home, career, relationship, and it is a good time to either cruise through the next ten years or re-evaluate our choices and decisions. Most of us re-evaluate, and either stay where we are because we are happy with our choices, or we panic and decide on a mid-life crises (women too), or, many of us realize that life is passing by fast, and we are no where near where we want to be in life.

I’m pushing 60 now. And looking back, I can honestly say I did the mid-life crises thing by going off to England to complete my doctorate. Life stepped in, however, and at the loss of our eldest son, we became parents to his one year old daughter. I had to re-evaluate big time at this juncture in my life.
So, at the age of 41, I was a new mom, and just to make things crazier, my husband and I decided to work our way around the world. We moved back to England, on to Hong Kong, and finally to New Zealand before coming home to the US nearly eight years later. It was worth it, every moment.

Now my granddaughter is 18, going to college, in a long term relationship, and expecting her first child. Holy CATS! I am going to be a great grandmother at the age of 58. Time to re-evaluate again.