I had pretty much decided some time ago to no longer devote time to this blog. I have so many other things to worry about, after all. I need time to work; I have a sick girlfriend who requires a great deal of care; I wasn't making much money with the damned thing, and so it became a pointless exercise in shouting in the wilderness that returned nothing for the energy devoted to it.
I was resigned to turning out the lights and locking the doors, leaving this little patch of cyberspace in much the same state as a Pharaoh's tomb, which is to say, something left undisturbed for centuries until some douchebag with too much curiosity and time on his hands might accidentally find it to plunder it's dank, musty mysteries as he saw fit.
But there's another election coming, and with elections, you can always count upon three things happening:
1. The morons come out of the woodwork.
2. The morons need to be put in their place.
3. I am, by nature, unable to resist putting morons in their place.
Insanity is not a disease; it's a defense mechanism.The opinions expressed here are disturbing and often disgusting to those with no sense of humor. I make no apologies for them, either. Contact the Lunatic at Excelsior502@gmail.com.
Showing posts with label Classical Liberalism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Classical Liberalism. Show all posts
Thursday, September 10, 2015
Wednesday, November 06, 2013
The GROFT Principle...
Back in the days when I was a young computer operator, I had a supervisor who, for lack of a better term, was a southern redneck. I mean a real hillbilly plowboy, a tobacco-chewin’, country-music singin’, flannel-wearin’, swaggerin’ farmboy from the inbred regions of South Carolina (which covers about 96% of the state). Why, he was so Southern he pissed moonshine and crapped fried chicken.
But that’s beside the point. In retrospect, nearly 30 years later he turns out to have been one of the smartest people I have ever met. He typically would use a colorful turn of phrase to get a point across (“Why, that boy looks as nervous as a whore in church…”, “That generator ain’t turnin’ out enough power to pull a greasy string from a whore’s ass…”. Harry was obsessed with whores, but this was how he talked), but that was only ever a means to an end. He knew that if you wanted people to remember something, you had to give it them in a way that they would remember it -- so that it would stick.
But that’s beside the point. In retrospect, nearly 30 years later he turns out to have been one of the smartest people I have ever met. He typically would use a colorful turn of phrase to get a point across (“Why, that boy looks as nervous as a whore in church…”, “That generator ain’t turnin’ out enough power to pull a greasy string from a whore’s ass…”. Harry was obsessed with whores, but this was how he talked), but that was only ever a means to an end. He knew that if you wanted people to remember something, you had to give it them in a way that they would remember it -- so that it would stick.
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