Showing posts with label Madness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Madness. Show all posts
Thursday, June 24, 2021
Thursday, February 16, 2017
A Farmer's Gonna Farm
That little section of wooded stream is on my morning commute, and it has been home to skunks, possums, coons, rabbits, squirrels, and foxes for all the years I have driven by it. The field was tiled recently, and after tiling was done the track-hoes and a bulldozer remained.
I sure don't mind if a farmer tiles a field. This field is an A slope, (0 to 5%) and very clayey. It stays wet and is hard to farm in the spring, so crops go in late. Then they have to deal with summer drought and heat after a late start. This week the farmer cleared the streambanks. It measured out less than two acres, but it was a nice little section of wildlife habitat that also protected the streambank and field from erosion.
What most people do not see is that landowners both up and downstream from this little project will see increased erosion now. Floodwaters will move through here more easily, effectively changing the gradient of this section. The effect can be far-reaching; in this case it will affect the upstream landowners more, because it is located at the upper end of a glacial lakebed where the gradient becomes small. If I hadn't been watching fox-kits every spring as I go by, this would not bother me so much, I guess. When you see farmers lighting off brush piles with their used tires you can realize that they probably don't give two hoots about the World we live in, in spite of what outfits like Farm Bureau and the USDA want you to believe.
Thursday, July 23, 2015
Our Country Is Infested With Monsters
This passage from The Grapes Of Wrath* came to mind last week, the memory awoken by the news about Planned Parenthood: From Chapter 15, somewhere along Route 66. "The big cars on the highway. Languid, heat-raddled ladies, small nucleuses about whom revolve a thousand accouterments: creams, ointments to grease themselves, coloring matter in phials-black, pink, red, white, green, silver-to change the color of hair, eyes, lips, nails, brows, lashes, lids. Oils, seeds, and pills to make the bowels move. A bag of bottles, syringes, pills, powders, fluids, jellies to make their sexual intercourse safe, odorless, and unproductive. And this apart from clothes. What a hell of a nuisance!"
In just a few decades children went from being an undesirable nuisance to a non-viable tissue mass to be torn out of its mother, to a commodity to be parted out and sold as if it was livestock. Has our nation lost its fear of God and His judgment? "You created every part of me; you put me together in my mother's womb." Psalm 139, verse 13.
*The Grapes Of Wrath, John Steinbeck, copyright 1939, renewed 1966 by John Steinbeck.
In just a few decades children went from being an undesirable nuisance to a non-viable tissue mass to be torn out of its mother, to a commodity to be parted out and sold as if it was livestock. Has our nation lost its fear of God and His judgment? "You created every part of me; you put me together in my mother's womb." Psalm 139, verse 13.
*The Grapes Of Wrath, John Steinbeck, copyright 1939, renewed 1966 by John Steinbeck.
Monday, July 20, 2015
What Did You Learn At Vacation Bible School And Church Camp?
It's hard to recall all that I learned. I saw a kid nearly killed by a baseball to the throat, but he came out of it OK. I really liked Onward Christian Soldiers and other songs we sang. Teachers get all flustered when someone asks "What's a womb?" and those were farm women! Man's primary purpose is to glorify God. That's the big one. and if a kid goes to Sunday School, VBS, and other church activities, that soaks in. What happens in other cultures? That's a hard lesson that you need to learn. I was visiting with a friend who knows about such things, so I asked him,"How many of the mosques in this country are preaching Jihad?" He gave me a look that made me realize that I had asked a very dumb question. "All Of Them! 100%! That's what imams do" You hear that there are good muslims, and that must be true, but you have to understand that every muslim who attends a mosque is instructed to wage jihad against you. You! When you hear muslim leaders say "Death To America" that means you, your family, your friends, your government. It is not a quaint or funny expression. They want You dead. Here is what kids learn when they go to muslim summer camp, from the UK Daily Mail. You don't have to look for motives; this is what the religious leaders teach the followers of the religion of peace. (Photos cropped, from the UK Daily Mail)
Click on the Religion Of Peace website link on the sidebar every week and catch up on what muslims are doing around the world. Right now there is a ramadan scoresheet with a tally of the mayhem that has transpired during their holy month. It started out with a bang, with beheadings by det cord, and wound up with the masacre in Chattanooga. The news hacks and the government are not going to inform you, so you must go out and seek this information yourself. Hard times are ahead. Educate yourself.
And Heaven Help You if an imam suspects you are a homosexual.
Click on the Religion Of Peace website link on the sidebar every week and catch up on what muslims are doing around the world. Right now there is a ramadan scoresheet with a tally of the mayhem that has transpired during their holy month. It started out with a bang, with beheadings by det cord, and wound up with the masacre in Chattanooga. The news hacks and the government are not going to inform you, so you must go out and seek this information yourself. Hard times are ahead. Educate yourself.
And Heaven Help You if an imam suspects you are a homosexual.
Thursday, February 21, 2013
Predictable Madness
Ernie Pyle wrote about induced madness nearly eighty years ago, only he was writing about thirst induced madness, rather than psychotropic-drug-induced madness that we are seeing on an all too regular basis. The most remarkable part of our current insanity epicemic is that the media, politicians, and medical professionals refuse to acknowledge the link between young men taking psychotropic drugs and mass murders, when it is evident to anyone who sees the faces of these monsters. Instead, everyone tries to pin the blame for mad behavior on the tools that murderers use to commit mayhem.
Insanity can be managed, if you acknowledge it for what it is, and treat it accordingly. Read Ernie's account of a man who dealt with madness on a regular basis. The lesson should be applied to the disturbed people among us today.
* "Ike Proebstal knew about men who die of thirst. For thirty-three years he had been a prospector and a mining man among those snaky sands and bare mountains, and he had saved many a man from death. A fellow down the road said to me, "When Ike Proebstal tells you anything about this country you can bank on it being true."...
..."I wish my brother was still alive to talk with you," he said. "He had a real reputation for finding missing men. But I've saved quite a few too. The first fifteen years we were here, my brother and I rescued at least two people a year, I guess. There isn't so much of it any more. The auto has changed that. People drive right out across the desert, and they can take plenty of water with them. But even so, there's somebody lost from around here about once a year.
"You know, a man dying of thirst always takes off all his clothes. I don't know why, but they do it every time. Years ago a man rode into my prospecting camp late in the afternoon. He was more dead than alive, and so was his horse. He said he had left his partner under a bush about five miles away. I started right out. I ran almost all the way, for I knew I could just barely make it by sundown. I knew that if I didn't get there before dark I'd never find him, because he'd get up at dusk and start traveling. They always do.
" Well, I found him. He was lying there on the sand, naked as a baby. A few feet away was a tripod made of short steel tubing about two feet long, with a kettle hanging on it. I kicked the tripod down and stood there and called to the fellow, 'I've got some water for you. Come and get it.' The fellow raised up. His face was black as coal and his tongue was swollen and sticking out of his mouth two inches. He jumped up and ran at me and tried to take the water away from me, but I handled him all right. I'd brought a canteen of water and a whisky glass. I gave him just one small glass of water. Then I made him put his clothes on and told him if he'd follow me I'd give him a drink every hundred and fifty yards. The boys back at the camp had built bonfires so I could find my way back. When we got about halfway I asked the fellow how he was feeling, and he said fine, that he was sweating. So I said, 'All right then, you can drink all you want now.'
"He told me later that he was crazy and yet he wasn't crazy. He said he saw me standing over those steel bars, and he knew why I was doing it. He said if it hadn't been for those bars he would have killed me to get at the water quicker."
People who have taken anti-depressant drugs have told me that part of you is placed up on a shelf, and you are watching yourself as if you are another person when you are on these drugs. The advertisements on television that push these drugs always warn you to tell your doctor if you are having "Thoughts of Suicide." That sounds more like an admission of the problems with these drugs, than advice. Anyway, the behavior associated with these drugs is predictable, just as the behavior of a thirst-crazed man is predictable, and managing the resulting behaviors should be child's play for medical professionals, but no-one seems to be working on it. Pushing the pills, and passing draconian laws that will solve nothing, is what we are getting from the folks who call themselves professionals. The folks who think they are better than the rest of us all need to sit down and be schooled by the likes of Ernie Pyle and Ike Probestal, the desert rat who actually helped people who had gone mad.
*Cactus Country, from Home Country, by Ernie Pyle, copyright, 1935- 1940, Scripps-Howard Newspaper Alliance; Copyright, 1947, William Sloane Associates, Inc.
Insanity can be managed, if you acknowledge it for what it is, and treat it accordingly. Read Ernie's account of a man who dealt with madness on a regular basis. The lesson should be applied to the disturbed people among us today.
* "Ike Proebstal knew about men who die of thirst. For thirty-three years he had been a prospector and a mining man among those snaky sands and bare mountains, and he had saved many a man from death. A fellow down the road said to me, "When Ike Proebstal tells you anything about this country you can bank on it being true."...
..."I wish my brother was still alive to talk with you," he said. "He had a real reputation for finding missing men. But I've saved quite a few too. The first fifteen years we were here, my brother and I rescued at least two people a year, I guess. There isn't so much of it any more. The auto has changed that. People drive right out across the desert, and they can take plenty of water with them. But even so, there's somebody lost from around here about once a year.
"You know, a man dying of thirst always takes off all his clothes. I don't know why, but they do it every time. Years ago a man rode into my prospecting camp late in the afternoon. He was more dead than alive, and so was his horse. He said he had left his partner under a bush about five miles away. I started right out. I ran almost all the way, for I knew I could just barely make it by sundown. I knew that if I didn't get there before dark I'd never find him, because he'd get up at dusk and start traveling. They always do.
" Well, I found him. He was lying there on the sand, naked as a baby. A few feet away was a tripod made of short steel tubing about two feet long, with a kettle hanging on it. I kicked the tripod down and stood there and called to the fellow, 'I've got some water for you. Come and get it.' The fellow raised up. His face was black as coal and his tongue was swollen and sticking out of his mouth two inches. He jumped up and ran at me and tried to take the water away from me, but I handled him all right. I'd brought a canteen of water and a whisky glass. I gave him just one small glass of water. Then I made him put his clothes on and told him if he'd follow me I'd give him a drink every hundred and fifty yards. The boys back at the camp had built bonfires so I could find my way back. When we got about halfway I asked the fellow how he was feeling, and he said fine, that he was sweating. So I said, 'All right then, you can drink all you want now.'
"He told me later that he was crazy and yet he wasn't crazy. He said he saw me standing over those steel bars, and he knew why I was doing it. He said if it hadn't been for those bars he would have killed me to get at the water quicker."
People who have taken anti-depressant drugs have told me that part of you is placed up on a shelf, and you are watching yourself as if you are another person when you are on these drugs. The advertisements on television that push these drugs always warn you to tell your doctor if you are having "Thoughts of Suicide." That sounds more like an admission of the problems with these drugs, than advice. Anyway, the behavior associated with these drugs is predictable, just as the behavior of a thirst-crazed man is predictable, and managing the resulting behaviors should be child's play for medical professionals, but no-one seems to be working on it. Pushing the pills, and passing draconian laws that will solve nothing, is what we are getting from the folks who call themselves professionals. The folks who think they are better than the rest of us all need to sit down and be schooled by the likes of Ernie Pyle and Ike Probestal, the desert rat who actually helped people who had gone mad.
*Cactus Country, from Home Country, by Ernie Pyle, copyright, 1935- 1940, Scripps-Howard Newspaper Alliance; Copyright, 1947, William Sloane Associates, Inc.
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