Big Brother’s Heavy-Handed Promotion of Interracial Couples on Popular Media

You may have noticed that about fifty percent of couples in all very recent TV commercials are interracial.  No, I haven’t actually tabulated the results of a weekend survey… I have more pressing things to do.  But the percentage is well over ten percent, or even a quarter.  I’ll stick with approximately half.

That’s pretty high.  In the restaurants and grocery stores of the world where I live, one out of every two couples are not interracial.  I realize that my neck of the woods is far off the main road; I realize, even, that in places like San Francisco, acquiring a mate of another race is taken as proof of one’s moral superiority. I’ve known for some time that in cultural enclaves where no one believes in yesteryear’s God and where social transformation exerts a mystical magnetism, people seem always to be seeking ostentatious new rituals to demonstrate their spiritual purity. Sometimes other people are the victims offered on the progressivist altar—as when, say, you cozy up to someone because of her skin color without giving a second thought to her feelings.

But San Francisco is not a cross-section of American life: not just yet.  In flyover country, couples whose racial past is very visibly different compose, I would guess, well under ten percent of adult pairs.  Probably under five.

The advertising industry’s estimate of the typical, then, is so distinctly at odds with what one actually sees in most places that one must ask, Why the miscalculation?  It appears deliberate; and for that reason, it doesn’t appear a miscalculation at all, but a move calculated against coordinates other than reality’s.  What are these coordinates, and why are they being used?

Are private-sector peddlers of cars, pizzas, smartphones, and home-improvement items eager to encourage us to mate and marry outside our race?  Why would they feel called upon to fulfill that mission?  Social engineers, of course, have a very obvious interest in dissolving ties of family, community, religion, tribe—of anything that competes with Big Brother for our abject allegiance.  Those who belong to nothing will always be easy recruits for the State’s all-encompassing march into a transformative future.

Okay… but why are for-profit enterprises carrying so much water for Super-Nanny’s bath of brainwash?  What other reason for it could there possibly be than that they mortally fear some sort of bad press or boycott labeling them unsympathetic to the goal of stamping out racism?  They don’t want any trouble… and so they get out in front of the shakedown, hanging the right colors on their doorstep before Big Brother’s goons come around demanding to see their papers.

So how long before overtly gay couples start turning up on Home Depot ads?  How long before Chevrolet commercials end with a declaration that their workplace has a zero-tolerance of sexual harassment?

I don’t like this.  I have utterly no problem whatever with a blond Jack marrying a Japanese or African Jill (as long as they’re not doing it just to make one of those West Coast statements).  My wife is either 1/16th or 1/32nd Cherokee; Elizabeth Warren informs us that either of those percentages would be significant.  I’m not arguing that people should marry within their race.  I am questioning why depictions of our lives projected in our media are being distorted to reflect somebody’s version of Shangri La.  If the intent is to influence the impressionable (i.e., the young) toward pairing up with those of different races, then we are NOT being left alone to pursue the mate of our choice: we are being tactlessly nudged—the more impressionable among us, at least—into the ethic of ostentation, of showing off one’s moral superiority by selecting a mate of a certain appearance.

How is this any different from the Cult of the Blond that prevailed when I was a boy, and that induced so many women to dye their hair?  Answer: that was a silly, superficial cultural prejudice, while this is yet another theater opening up in the vast war against culture itself. The social engineer’s futuristic spaceship needs cadets, and the training program has begun.


Fear: Age’s Constant Bedfellow

For the most part, I’ve learned to settle Fear down as I prepare for bed.  She’s always there under the blanket beside me, but I can usually manage to dope her up well enough that I avoid insomnia.  Melatonin doesn’t particularly help, since it assists a good sleep only after one drops off.  My evening meditation probably helps a little, since it forces things to withdraw into perspective.  I reiterate my devotion to the God of transcending goodness who has no terminal objectives in this world—the God who doesn’t go crazy if every disease isn’t cured, every child fed, and every weather event mellowed out; the God for whom we do not HAVE to accomplish this, that, or the other, or all is lost; the true God.  He doesn’t tell me that none of my family will die tomorrow, as some people claim of their supernatural wizard; but He assures me that what is truly alive in us doesn’t die when our bodies wear out amid the swirl of “things that must be done”.

Still, the compromise with Fear is none too stable.  I’m not a mystic living on a Himalayan mountaintop: I’m an aging man nearing retirement with a son trying to start a career a thousand miles away.  I worry about closing down my 501c3, which hasn’t enough money to operate and has become a millstone about my neck: I worry because the government documents necessary to terminate it seem to shift with each website I visit, and because I can’t afford a lawyer.  I worry because the home my wife and I are building four states away has veered way outside its budget thanks to county regulations and is way behind schedule thanks to incompetent, uninterested employees at Georgia Power.  I worry that the maneuvers I had to make in order to extract my son’s inherited investments from the corporations selected by his uncle may involve all kinds of penalty; and I worry that the kid can’t seem to sell an old car in Denver because local government requires so much paperwork and so many fees to produce a Colorado title in his name.  I don’t really worry about Social Security.  I’ve long since reconciled myself to the probability that nothing will remain for me there in a few short years.

One way and another, it strikes me that government at some level underlies virtually all of my worries.  It’s intractable, arbitrary, incomprehensible, and very jealous of the power it enjoys over us.  I hate living like a medieval peasant farmer just waiting to see what Visigoth or baron will come riding out of the forest next—for whether he speaks my language or some alien tongue, he’ll be waving a sword, and he’ll want my cow.

I’m a white male.  I’m one of those who is supposed to have been born and raised in coddling privilege.  I wonder if the incendiary Marxist/feminist professors who would like to see my kind shipped out to death camps ever see Fear sharing their bed when they gripe about my taxes not paying for their pills and condoms.  They don’t have children, so there’s no source of worry from that quarter.  They have cushy tenured jobs, so they seldom worry about next year’s contract; and if they participate in any extra-curricular organization, you can bet that it’s well funded and has a fleet of attorneys on staff.  They don’t live on my planet.

Others who hate “my kind” because they see me as tapping into what’s rightfully theirs… do they have to lull Fear to sleep the day before they collect a government check?  Do they worry that they may not have enough weed in the cookie jar to get through the week?  If they don’t even have a driver’s license—and if their city forbids law enforcement from “harassing” them—then I don’t suppose they would fret over buying or selling a car without papers.

Being “privileged” sure does wear a man down.  I don’t think I can stand the “royal treatment” much longer.  My strange bedfellow is a light sleeper.

How Does a True Conservative Stay Out of Holes?

If I have to read or listen to one more commentary about Trump’s coprologism for corrupt, impoverished Third World nations, I’m going to eject something malodorous from the other end of my digestive tract.

I’ll say this much, though, about the so-called conservative contempt for living close to nature: it isn’t conservative at all, and it has made my own alliance with the political Right very unstable at times.  Face it.  There’s a very vocal strain in “conservatism” that wants to burn energy and build highways the way any normal person would relish describing in front of a snowflake how he killed a squirrel.  (Squirrels eat baby birds, by the way, dearie: that’s why mockingbirds hate them.)  In other words, certain self-styled conservatives are reactive.  They say and do things because they know the other side will be ticked off.  Rush Limbaugh leaps to mind.  How many times has he discussed smoking his cigars, turning on all the lights in his mansion, and driving about in a gas-guzzler just for the joy of making his political adversaries change their diapers?

Now, I don’t know if the president made the specific comment attributed to him or not.  I know, however, that many who have sprung to his defense leave me feeling a little skittish with their implied judgment that life without cell phones and Netflix must be hell on earth.  The ancient Stoics viewed a man as free and true to his natural purpose to the extent that he could eliminate his ties to material needs and assert the superiority of his will.  I have always deeply admired that perspective.  To my mind, it comes very close to describing the essence of manliness (a word which literally translates the Latin virtus).  That’s one reason, by the way, why I have never found it very masculine for men to go chasing addictively after women: that is, if they can’t control themselves, then they deserve to be considered something more on the level of a dog pulled on an invisible leash behind any pooch in heat who wanders through the neighborhood.

Part of the independent life is being able to supply most or all of your needs for food, shelter, and defense.  There was a time when certain parts of what we call the Third World were very good at such self-sufficiency.  True, most of those places have since been transformed into hellholes; but they have been so courtesy of the USSR, the PRC, and—yes—sometimes the USA piping sophisticated weapons into the region and enabling (unintentionally or otherwise) tinpot dictators to subjugate their populace.  I am NOT willing to brand such spots the anal sphincters of the globe just because farmers have to use their hoes manually and don’t have iPhones in their pockets.

Any real conservative, on the contrary, would be very concerned about the inroads that frivolous high-tech is making into the lives of our children.  When a teenager plunges into deep depression and withdrawal syndrome just because he or she is deprived of Internet for a week, then we should not be proud of the new kind of dependency we have permitted to corrupt a once-independent citizenry, even if it “creates jobs”.  If said teenager were truly using the device to become better informed about the world, then a case might almost be made for the addiction… but remember where this ramble of mine started: in a news cycle that hasn’t for a week been able to let go of one badboy comment uttered in a supposedly private conference.  Meanwhile, China is sentencing a blogger to twenty years in prison and water has been incontrovertibly discovered on Mars—but who has time for that?

We don’t need more jobs: we need more nut-bearing trees, more hands that can turn sun and rain into potatoes, more minds that understand how to get an egg from the chicken to the table: that would be a conservative’s view.  But no, let’s all just keep piling into our own urban hellholes.  That’s the approach, by the way, which is drawing all the Third Worlders here—and the loss of traditional skills and social structures in their own homelands is what’s driving them to emigrate.


Thanksgiving Lite vs. True Gratitude

Like just about every other thoughtful person, I’m a little queasy when I hear all the Christian-lite bromides at this time of year. “Thank you for our health.” So the ailing are hated of God? “Thank you for our family.” Pagans have families, too; so do murdering drug-cartel kingpins. “Thank you for peace.” Well, sort of… only don’t go for an evening walk without a concealed weapon unless you live in an exclusive gated community; and if it’s peace in the world to which you refer, I guess you mean, “Thank you for not making me Mexican, so that I don’t inhabit a nation that produced 21,000 murders last year and 30,000 surviving casualties.”

That’s a little Pharisaical, don’t you think? “Thank you for not making me like that filthy publican at the altar.”

And then we have the unnerving fact that what we fear and loathe most is often what we most need. We don’t know what to be thankful for. Maybe our raise is just going to plunge us into a more materialistic lifestyle. Maybe being bumped to part-time will make us become more creative and independent. Should we be thankful that we can afford to view more trashy Hollywood movies and stuff ourselves on more sweets and fats… or should we be thankful that we’re now having to read books for amusement and grow potatoes and beans in the back yard? How we hate being forced into virtue! When that doesn’t happen, we’re so damn thankful!

I have enough of the old pagan in me that I’m almost afraid to be thankful for anything, lest I make a target out of myself. “Thanks for our prosperous investments… oh, my God! Did you see how much the Dow just plunged?” There’s an Irish saying that runs, Mol an là um trathnóna—“Praise the day as the sun goes down.” It’s the same sentiment that we find at the end of Sophocles’ Oedipus the King and ascribed to Solon by Herodotus: “Let no man be called blessed before he is safely dead and secure from the world’s shocks.”

In my more Christian moments, however—truly Christian—I know that I must die to this world some day, and I am grateful for the little clues that alert me to a “winding down”. I am grateful that I can see a way to start tying loose ends together—to leave some sort of legacy that will warn others against living just for the here and now. And, yes, I’m grateful for something to put on the table. “Let each day’s worries be sufficient unto itself.” I am grateful that we get by, that the sun and the rain fall on good and evil alike, and that the means of survival are always within reach of the humble and hard-working. I want to learn more about those means in my final years, and I want to do more about passing them along. Simply feeling the days lengthen and then shorten, simply studying how the earth grows food and then gives it up to those who know her secrets, is a vitally important part of understanding bountifulness and feeling gratitude for it.

I am not grateful to this culture we have created which has carried us so far away from such understanding and such gratitude.



The Dark Elite (Part Five)

So who are the Dark Elite, now that we’ve considered who they are not? Let us review.

1) They are likely to appear in the intersection of several rings of influence and power. A politician with strong ties to the defense or energy-production industry, a career intelligence officer with an academic background and a family fortune, and investment mogul who also owns several radio stations and production studios… such characters are not necessarily prime suspects, but they deserve to make the “suspect” list.

2) They should possess some significant awareness of and involvement in advanced technology. They needn’t be Bill Gates or Werner von Braun… but they should be on intimate terms with people of that caliber. A mere billionaire subversive without any plan for society’s technical overhaul isn’t much of a threat these days.

3) They are discreet: they keep a low profile. A demagogic firebrand or charismatic exhibitionist might well be useful to them, but would never be admitted to their inner circle. This criterion alone eliminates several public figures who have obviously been seduced by applause, adoration, and the vision of a mighty throne.

To these three criteria might be added a commitment to the enterprise which turns it into a virtual family affair. Perhaps there is something of the hostage-taking motive involved; that is, perhaps those figures are most trusted whose wives and children will tumble down catastrophically in the event of betrayal. I have heard it said by an insider that politicians, tout court, are not trusted because they “come and go”. Membership in the Dark Elite lasts for a lifetime, and preferably for several generations. It isn’t an ideology so much as an ethos, apparently.

Dick Cheney’s name often surfaces in discussions. A political gamesman of savvy demeanor and great poise who contentedly played second fiddle for eight years to a president very much his intellectual inferior, Cheney also had strong ties to Big Oil; and, for good measure, his wife was a career federal bureaucrat and his daughter a wannabe politico. I always found the Cheneys to have good manners, and even charm… which was sufficient to make me nervous. Yet the Vice President’s accusers (who have charged him with everything up to and including the murder of 3,000 Americans on 9/11) could never hang a better motive around his neck than that he wanted to sell more oil. Members of the Dark Elite would not be so retrograde and paltry: they have plans to save the world from itself, not to multiply their dividend income. If I were to find that Cheney had some sort of connection with transformative technology, I might consider boarding the “conspiracy” ship. As things stand, I am incredulous. I think my fellow birddogs in these matters (e.g., Steven Greer), tending to have a progressive worldview themselves, are too quick to ascribe “caveman” lusts to their adversaries. They fail to realize that the enemy they seek is probably one who shares their ideology at an abstract level.

Now, the Bushes have created a political dynasty, they enjoy extensive ties with mega-business, they have fearfully chummy relationships with utopians on the other side of the political aisle, and George Sr. was once head of the CIA (where he might have been introduced to all kinds of “dark ops” programs). The same electorate that considered Ted Cruz too close to Goldman-Sachs in 2016 would have nothing whatever to do with Jeb Bush… so the suspicion of that family appears to be pretty widespread. Almost too widespread. Maybe Cheney is the better bet, after all.

Or the professorial Newt Gingrich. What I “like” about Newt’s credentials is that they bespeak a genuine affection for utopian projects. An “idea” man who always has something new on the drawing board, Gingrich often shows a commitment to transforming society which could easily adapt itself to transformative technology. His Catholic conversion has put him in touch with a certain “shepherd leading the sheep” mentality in that faith which has conduced to secret “philanthropic” organizations for centuries (and also rendered Catholicism traditionally suspect to the self-determining American electorate); while his daughter, an active political commentator, appears to the manner born.

But as Donald Rumsfeld so correctly observed, we don’t know what we don’t know. My suggested candidates above are probably disqualified by the unpromising fact that someone as far on the outside as I can finger them.


The Dark Elite (Part Four)

It would be easier (especially for someone sitting on the sidelines, like me) to say who the Dark Elite are not than who they are. They are not “mainstream media” and “fake news”. Though our Fourth Estate has indeed assumed much too aggressive a role in shaping public policy, and though its sympathies overwhelmingly veer in the direction of creating a highly centralized utopia, none of this group, it seems to me, can credibly be visualized as pulling the strings of puppets on the national stage. At most, the owner of a communications empire—preferably one who has made his broadcast domain part of a vast conglomerate—might be a member of some covert Star Chamber; but this person’s vast wealth and his influence over other sectors of the economy would supply the ticket for admission. The people who directly persuade us, before their microphones or cameras, to take comfort in the emerging totalitarian state are not among that state’s architects. In the phrase supposedly used by Lenin, they are “useful idiots” who champion the abrogation of our freedoms because they identify egotistically with the cause of creating a brave new world.

Still less are Hollywood’s movers and shakers suitable collaborators for an enterprise that aspires to rule the world. Again, unless a major producer also has his finger in several other entrepreneurial pots, his job is essentially meretricious, no matter how much lucre it spills into his bank account: that is, he is more slave to public taste than engineer of public opinion.

As far as established political parties, I should say that Republicans are more likely to be source material for a twenty-first century illuminatus than Democrats. The reasons for this are simple. With their superior appeal to “the masses” (which does not always translate into real benefit for ordinary people), Democrats are more conscious of “image”. They enjoy applause and live for celebrity. Once they discover how much loot is also to be harvested in the corridors of power, their heads are more readily turned away from the hidden heart of the magnetic force field. They would rather bask on a Caribbean island in a lobbyist’s company than explore the underground vaults of NSA’s new megaplex in Utah. Among this latter type, one is more likely to find Republicans. They have cut their professional teeth in boardrooms and back rooms. They know how to dress, how to be discreet, and how to blend into the wallpaper when necessary. The hard part for them is being flamboyant enough to get elected, in the first place, as the electorate grows more YouTube-addicted.

This is not to imply that politicos of any stripe are very likely to sit on the Board of the Knights Templar. As with publishers and film producers, they would almost certainly require connection with some other avenue of power to receive the initiation: banking and finance, energy production, and defense contracting are three of the private-sector ties that our elite-eligible may have formed before entering public office. But these avenues are little traveled now. Most congressmen come to DC by way of the bar and the bench. In other words, they know how to design and manipulate legalese to reach a desired objective through a squid-like ink screen. While this can be a useful survival skill, it doesn’t get you to the top of the food chain. Honestly, I doubt that most of our elected representatives have any idea where the greatest power ultimately resides, any more than a little pilot fish carries around a full mental image of the shark’s jaws under which he comfortably feeds.

Many have proposed George Soros as a prototype for the Goldfinger-like character who darkly subverts the mechanisms of nations as if he were toying with pawns on a chessboard. My initial reaction is to concur—perhaps because the world of high finance is so alien to me. (Tacitus writes, omne ignotum pro magnifico est: a very free translation might be, “We like to imagine that all the boxes we can’t find are in the closet we can’t open.”) On the other hand, Soros is very visible, and a characteristic of our kind of shady figure might almost be that you can be sure X is not one if you’re convinced he is. Soros’s money, besides, has not been spent with particular efficiency. He has unlimited amounts of it to meddle in other nations’ affairs, but the horses he backs come croppers far more often than they visit the victory circle. He also has no apparent connection with high tech: and this, I believe, is an indispensable quality in our Shadow King.

I like bankers as prospects… but they need to have a mine of pixie dust somewhere in their portfolio. William Gheen once wrote me (in defense of his support for Donald Trump) that Ted Cruz was disqualified in the struggle to “drain the swamp” because his wife Heidi had worked for Goldman-Sachs. The suspicious, however, are not those who engage in pursuing material profit; they are those invested in materially engineering the future of our species for the “betterment of all concerned”.


The Dark Elite (Part Three)

Bill Gates, Steve Jobs, Elon Musk… Werner von Braun, Karl Heisenberg, Ferdinand Porsche… Andrei Sakharov, Aleksandr Prokhorov, Sergei Korolev… from where does the Dark Elite draw the genius that ultimately drives the progressivist vision? It has been said ad infinitum that capitalism causes genius to rise to the top like cream because our economic system so handsomely rewards innovation. Yet this argument, let it be repeated ever so lyrically, often suffers contradiction in practice. The names offered just above, in fact, show that a totalitarian regime can exploit its best brains at least as well as a free society. Indeed, the Soviets could make life very nice for their top-tier minds, pooling them together in idyllic communities abounding in all the existential comforts so woefully deficient elsewhere in the nation. These privileged few might not be allowed to leave their Shangri-La, or not for long… but within its confines, they were treated as princes. Capitalism doesn’t necessarily make the going so smooth for its most brilliant citizens. There have been all too many cases, unfortunately, of revolutionary patents being bought up and buried by producers who want to keep the chain of manufacture and consumption moving just the way it presently moves.

If the Dark Elite, then, were seeking the best of the best to create a “brainwash ray” (say) or an assassin’s bullet that could travel one hundred miles disguised as a happy little bee, recruitment would not necessarily target private industry that extended tentacles into such areas. There’s actually a long history of the government’s raiding academe for its magicians and alchemists: e.g., Robert Oppenheimer and Einstein himself. The “private industry” connection might have the advantage of turning up people who had already forged ties with influential figures in government–such as Gates; but the academic connection promises the equal or superior advantage of mentalities nourished in a progressive/utopian political atmosphere, such that a recruiter’s well-delivered pitch for a one-world government with energies focused on interplanetary exploration would likely fall on sympathetic ears.

Let’s not forget, either, that money makes the scientific world go round, however idealistic its ivory-impregnated air… and the Dark Elite can offer its prospects virtually unlimited funding. The private-sector wizard, in contrast, has to produce something at the end of the day that appeals to the plodding intelligence of John Q. Consumer. The case of Elon Musk is in fact quite instructive here: though ostensibly a producer of futuristic vehicles marketed to the general public, Musk would never stay afloat without immense infusions of government subsidy.

Nevertheless, as they have been at every stage of this discussion, the lines can get very blurry if we grope with too much persistence for a clear distinction between public and private–between Werner von Braun and Henry Ford. Sometimes the arcane fiddling of white coats working in the labs of Security can create a private-sector growth industry, as has happened so often with the space program.

Or take “climate change” and its impact on the energy industry. Wind and solar power have so far proved impractical boondoggles, profitable to a select few only because politicians engineer subsidies for certain corporations (whose execs invariably counter with generous donations). Yet something really innovative might come along, such as tapping into coastal wave energy, that Security would wish to exploit in a covert way. And, indeed, are we very, very sure that Security has not manufactured “climate change” (i.e., irregular weather patterns, which is what most citizens understand by the term) from its quiver of top-secret arrows? We know that programs to weaponize weather systems have been dithering about in Earth’s stratosphere at least since the advent of HAARP in the early Nineties (though the Department of Defense only acknowledged the endeavor ten years later to say that it had been discontinued: yeah, okay). Wouldn’t Defense be quite capable of creating destructive weather patterns just to gin up popular support for a “save the climate” governmental crusade upon the private sector, which in turn would generate more tax dollars and more abysmal bureaucracies for the development of more “mass-control tech”? To those who say, “No, our public servants wouldn’t do that,” I would ask, “Please tell me why not. Are you going to use a word like ‘conscience’ or ‘legality’? Are you really?”

Academe, I think, probably remains the favored hunting ground for locating the miracle-workers who will transform our Dark Elite into the gods they already imagine themselves to be.