"In a democracy (‘rule by mob’), those who refuse to learn from history will be the majority and will dictate that everyone else suffer for their ignorance."
Yeh, he wasn’t. Frugal, that is. But by adapting his recipes and using genuinely frugal ingredients and techniques, I found that I was able to make some nutritious and delicious meals inexpensively.
“shrugs* I’m sure he was “frugal” by a definition of the word that was held by folks who, nowadays, would waste $$ on crap coffee from “Starclucks,” but that ain’t frugal.
As I observe the passing scene, I try, I really do try, to take the Apostle Paul’s counsel to heart, but it ain’t easy, ya know?
Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things.
No, that is not a rain cloud you see hovering over my head. It’s smoke from me constantly burning the lies from politicians, Mass MEdia Hivemind Podpeople, Academia Nut Fruitcakes, and other assorted Children of the Lie.
CwaZy (pervy, racist) UnKa JoE, ZOMBIE POOPY-PANTS President in Name Only and his imaginary friends. . .
Girls are born with an “innie.” Boys are born with an “outie.” Anyone who tries to tell kids this isn’t the determiner, just answer, “OK, Groomer,” and put them in your rear view mirror.
Now and again, I hear (between my ears) Ravenscroft’s voice singing the melody to “You’re a mean one, Mr. Grinch” but with different lyrics featuring Son&Heir’s dog. . .
“You’re a good dog, Mr. Hobbs. . . ”
And that quite often invokes Olde Pharte Syndrome®, and I am transported (again, between my ears) back to Capitol Recording, LA, 1971, where my intro to 70s-era recording technology was performed by Bud Cole, Ravenscroft’s frequent sound engineer/producer, chatting with me as he worked the board.
Ah! Memories. They are what tell us when we have gotten old enough, eh? *heh*
Learn to write “Smarter Than a Fifth Grader (Who Rode the Short Bus to School and Spend Five Years in Fifth Grade Before Being Passed ON)™.”
YW.
Oh, you just KNOW it is. “They” (the crazy politicians who have destroyed the economy and the Dhimmicrap Operatives with Bylines in the Hivemind, in particular) all say so, and we KNOW how important the truth is to them. ?
Second ‘graph in an “isekai” novel apparently written by a seventh grade boy refers to a “weighty, hardcover novel” and references the weighty subject(s) it details:
“Every page was filled with gorgeous alien babes, heroic duels, and shitloads of Martian gold.”
Yeh. Filed in (digital) file 13. Hey! I gave it a fair shot! Circular filed after 1.5 paragraphs shows I gave it a “fair shot,” doesn’t it?
*smh*
At least by ditching it early I only killed a few “little grey cells.”
I finally discovered how so many subliterate Dunning-Krugerands who are hormonally stalled at seventh grade (but who have yet to conquer fifth grade vocabulary, grammar, etc.) can have the utter gall to self-publish:
“My mama told me I am a genius, so I don’t have to learn what it takes for other people to master the craft of writing, ‘cos I R so smart that I know everything!”
#gagamaggot
Other examples include an almost COMPLETE lack of firearms knowledge “informing” a Dunning-Krugerand’s descriptive narrative involving firearms. “No, chicky-poo. It does NOT work that way,” is a common thought when I run across a writer with an Alec Baldwin-level, Hollyweirdish “mis-stupid-ignorance” of firearms. *smh* “No, dearie. Keep the booger hook off the bang switch, and don’t look down the barrel that way unless you INTEND to end it all, mmmK?”
And then there are the dumbass Dunning-Krugerands who bailed out on science and technology before they skated past fifth grade “explaining” how chemical processes (say, making steel) work. “Yeh, sweetie, you can make a firearm out of what you describe, but expect to lose a hand, an eye, or your head when it blows up, ‘K?”
*smh*
Or writing about horses (riding, caring for, etc.) or camping or tracking or whatever: no, none of those things work like that. Oh, and talking to guuuurrrrls! *sigh* I swear, seventh grade boys’ hormone-damaged brains can come up with better dialog than some of these po’ autolobotomized dummies.
But, it’s a Brave New World where ANYONE can publish a book (and where even tradpubbed books are frequently as bad, because not just writers but gatekeeper editors, proofreaders, etc., are often just as subliterate as the worst self-pubs).
PC Mag, once an informative source for info about, you know, PCs and related items now wants to clue me in about “The Best TVs under $1,000.” Yeh, well, if I’m gonna eke out juuuust under a kilobuck for a TV, it had better bring me my coffee. . . and shut itself off afterwards.