This Way, This Day #3

No foolin’, as of today April 1, 2024, fast food workers in the ‘Peoples Republik of Kalifornia’ will be paid a minimum wage of $20.00per hour. This move also comes with yet another “council” of unelected bureaucrats:

“Gov Newsome announced his seven appointees to the council on March 1, including chairperson Nicholas Hardeman, chief of staff to former Senate leader Toni Atkins, and a mix of franchisees and others. Legislative leaders picked the final two members, both union leaders.” (From the Cal Matters website.)

And this little gem from the same site:

“It’s also a five-year experiment in how to regulate businesses in general across California — by returning to a model from the past.  For most of the 20th century, the state’s now-dormant Industrial Welfare Commission — a similar, but more powerful council with labor and business representatives — convened wage boards specific to certain industries. The boards took testimony from workers and employers and wrote work standards in those industries.”

As to fooling us, glean what you will from this information, but I knew the first time I heard about the edict from on high that the end game was not about improving lives. This is about unionization through the politics of envy. As Kalifornia goes, so goes the nation, and the Coastal Elites believe centralization of power is the necessary solution to their quest to engineer our lives from cradle to grave. Remember, when Biden took the highest office in the land, Newsome said out loud, in effect, “we now have a foothold in Washington DC.” As just one example, the Biden administration recently initiated a national policy move similar to Kalifornias’ Assembly Bill (AB-5)

To that end, these same elitist despots despise fast food, have always been hostile to independent franchisees of any kind, (owners were threatened by worse, so acquiesced to the current council model without much fight) plus they will be able to count on the “what about us” effect (envy) generated in other service industries. That phenomenon will bolster state controlled unionization efforts, concurrent with price increases. Naturally price increases typically reduce consumer cash tipping, which of course makes it easier for the tax agents to follow the money.

Never mind that all minimum wage laws are immoral; how dare any entity decide the value of my labor, or how I might negotiate for the right to ply my efforts in voluntary agreements with others. And how dare any citizen advocate for state intrusion into such matters in the first place? See oft mentioned envy.

DL

 

THIS WAY, THIS DAY #2

Politics, like sex and religion should have been talked about more. Given the founders vision, politics might have been fun and adventuresome, and just as with sex and religion, we individuals were to be an integral part of the process. Really, it was meant to be all about us rather than the state. Built right in was enough grace for one and all that should we get it wrong on any given try, we’d readily have an opportunity to get it right next time around. Sadly, just as with sex and religion, busybodies and authoritarians tend to make a mess of things; not in a good way mind you.

I have been a politico since my middle school days. I can share with a high degree of certainty that the fun is about gone from politics. Less and less can I smile as my observations take flight on thrusts of irreverence, and more and more it seems there are great hordes of evil “do gooders” sucking the mirth out of a dynamic which now can affect almost any aspect of our way of life without our permission.

Oh well, we are still free to enjoy plenty of love and worship of those whom we adore. But hey don’t say, “they can’t take away my affections and loyalties.” That is simply not so. So let’s do our best to keep laughing and amusing ourselves at the expense of the boors in charge, but let us also keep our eyes wide open, except perhaps during sex or meditation, you choose, it’s really none of my business.

DL

This Way, This Day #1

Today I commit to doing something I love, I will write. Funny, one would think doing something we love would not take much effort, but any wordsmith will tell you writing is work, quality writing is hard work.

As to love, I used to believe one shouldn’t have to work at it if it is real love. As it happened, time, experience, and periods of emptiness have shown how misguided my thinking was. Love takes practice, and like all rewarding endeavors, working hard at it reveals riches beyond the grasp of emotionalism or laziness.

Acceptable Risk

I am not particularly averse to vaccines. I am however, adamantly opposed to force or coercion of any kind, especially when foisted upon us by those who should represent rather than rule. Defiant? You bet! Foolish? Perhaps, but unlikely, and most importantly I decide which chances I take. I implore all sovereign citizens; reserve your right to do the same.

A lifetime of not catching most of whatever is “going around” concurrent with typically mild symptoms the few times I have, provides information I employ to make decisions about my health. I have never in memory presented to a medical entity with, or sought medical treatment for a cold or flu. So what to do? As to getting the jab, I decided to wait. Bear in mind I have one serious comorbidity; heart disease, which required triple bypass surgery in month two of the great Gung Fu Flu lockdown. Healing from open heart surgery presents some challenges because getting to the heart is intensely invasive and it is just now, 15 months after the fact, that my thoracic cavity feels well healed. Intuition implored me to focus on physical rehab from the invasion, as well as mental adjustment to the aftermath of procedures performed on my person. The feedback loop of my cardio vascular mechanism is markedly different now, and it “talks to me” more distinctly as to it’s efficacy in any given moment. Plus, it has taken all of this time for intercostal pain to subside. Being sore is the result of inflammation, and one doesn’t need to be a doctor to know inflamed tissue is a place for bad things to happen. Also, as an actualized human being who respects my relationships with others, I made a commitment (Expressed Love) to my cardiac team to take care of their work because it has value. Love is that which provides the capacity for success in all things; they did. Bottom line? For myriad reasons I decided to not submit to external pressures relative to a respiratory bug vaccine and it’s potential side effects.

Now that I am confident about being well healed internally from a major medical procedure, I have reached out to my cardiologist to garner more information about vaccination. She and her team, having crawled around in my fore mentioned thoracic cavity, are my experts. It is her expert opinion variant strains do present more danger to the heart itself, and potential side effects are not a danger given my case, thus she recommends I get vaccinated.

Common sense compels me to continually to assess risk in all areas of existence. One does not have to be an “expert” to apply reason in absence of panic to make informed decisions.

In this instance my process of weighing factors includes only the possibility of sickness, suffering and death; mine – not yours’ by the way – nor will I include opinions of so called and oft times worshipped celebrity “experts” the masses enlist to rule their lives. I am fully prepared, in absence of vaccination, to endure the restrictions, castigation and inequities the unvaccinated will likely incur moving forward as it appears our culture has abdicated a primary tenet of American life; an individual’s freedom to make informed decisions about one’s existence in absence of force or coercion from others.

Ideally, I will make all decisions based on my capacity to reason given information at my disposal.

Fear can be a debilitating, destructive force which often thwarts a healthy desire to live fully.

Exploitation

Early spring 1976, Sophomore year of high school; a friend and I were approached by a local landscape construction guy to work after school doing work I had never done.  He’d pick my friend and I up after school and drop us off with minimal instruction at various residential jobs to dig ditches for sprinkler lines, move dirt and operate roto-tillers and sod removal machines.  Imagine the horror and fervor which would ensue these days if a ‘stranger’ pulled up in front of a (modern?) California metropolitan high school offering under the table wages for physical labor.  Anyway… we agreed on 3.00 per hour with no discussion of minimum wage.  I’m not sure what it was at the time, and did not care.  Typically that time of year we would get in three hours or so before the sun went down at which time Al would come pick us up and give us cash for our efforts.  He never gave us less than 10 or 15 bucks, and often just handed each of us a twenty if we’d accomplished more than expected.  No paper work, no work permits, no safety gear… hell, we didn’t even discuss it with our parents.  A week or so in Al did give us work gloves, a tape measure and provided other odd tools as we proved to be dependable.  Somewhere in time my dad asked who we were working for and I told him, “I’m working for Al , the guy who drives the white Chevy 4×4, you know,  he lives by the ball diamond.”  My dad knew of him from the neighborhood watering hole and simply said, “Oh, I hear he’s talented, drinks a lot, but seems like a nice guy.”  Al was decidedly not always a nice guy, but yes, he was very talented.  Two talents come to mind; his ‘less is more’ design style, plus a tremendous knack for doing more with less, hence the high school drive by labor force.

I enjoyed the dirt, being outside with sun on my back, and the changes forced on my body by the work.  I developed an affinity for Al. Likely because it seemed I was part of something, and certainly as the result of being treated as a young man rather than as a kid.  As summer came I worked with Al full time, such as it was, he really may have had a drinking problem so some days I didn’t hear from him.  I was 15 going on 16, but I felt like a grownup and worked hard to prove it.  Fridays were payday; we’d get to Al’s house in the afternoon, he’d pull a couple of beers out of a perpetually full Igloo which lived in the back of his truck, hand me one, then go into his house and cut me a check or grab some cash. We’d settle up, finish a Budweiser, chuck the cans in the back of the truck. Sometimes he’d offer me a ride home, I’d decline and start my walk home through the neighborhood figuring out what kind of mischief I could get in with my money.  Not much has changed.

In the modern vernacular young people, 14, 15 and 16 years of age are mostly referred to as ‘children’.  By today’s standards it would be said I was being exploited and abused.  By my standards, and those of my upbringing, these are memories of being a young man which will always remain among the fondest of my life.  That summer Al and I did a particularly lush landscape job at a home in a neighborhood near where I live today.  When I’m in the area, I purposefully drive by that home often.  The front yard has been meticulously maintained, and is the nicest landscape on the street.  The benches, privacy fence and foliage we installed are still beautiful having matured in precisely the fashion talented Al must have envisioned.  I am always moved.

Walled up on the border of insanity

Bordermadness

 

There is but one consideration for borders around the globe.  Sovereignty.  Sovereignty is a legal claim to nation status.  All nations claim sovereignty but only one nation, The United States of America was founded to form a more perfect union of territorial states.  We citizens are ideally ensured domestic tranquility, a country to call home, where our right to life, liberty and the pursuit happiness shall be guarded against outside forces by a citizen militia, bolstered with adequate Federal military protection to provide for the common defense of  ‘We the people’.  Borders function to delineate our safe space, to use the modern PC vernacular, where U.S. citizen’s inalienable rights as codified in ‘The Bill of Rights’ are protected first, foremost and without debate, ideally to promote (not to be confused with provide) the general welfare.  The preamble of our Constitution is not a ‘clause’, nor enumeration of federal powers.  It’s an edict of basic tenets; principles if one prefers.  We as Americans (a claim many make of themselves, whether anchored to our founding tenets or not / another essay forthcoming) either respect the idea of America, or we do not.  We either cherish and protect our sovereignty concurrent with an expectation other nations encourage their citizens do the same, or we do not.  This rightful, human rights respecting position does not make anyone racist, bigoted or isolationist, nor does it connote white supremacy, advocate chauvinism or imply domination or scorn of other nations or it’s peoples as acceptable. 

The prevailing border insanity is an abdication of rational law enforcement and national sovereignty.  This madness is a crisis for both Mexico and the United States.  Our politicians use it as a tool of division, and Mexican officials concurrent with an incestuous relationship with criminal cartels condone the mayhem as well.  For Mexico’s officials a porous border serves as a sieve to vent undesirables.  Here I do not refer to drug smugglers, human traffickers, terrorists or any criminal element the Trump card points to.  No, I use undesirables relative to people who are unable or unwilling to perform under or conform to Mexico’s corrupt national government which operates almost without exception via graft and foments nearly ubiquitous failure to promote the general welfare regarding citizens, lands, or productive enterprise.  Also, it must be noted roughly 43 other ethnic groups who flee impoverished, war torn nations filter through Mexico as well.  Fleeing systemic shitholism seems the only alternative for many, obviously… and of course elites, despots and tin horn dictators who occupy dysfunctional power structures worldwide are often glad to see malcontents go rather than stay to demand change or confront those holding power.  It should also be acknowledged a large contingent of Mexicans and (Americans?) do not honor the 1848 Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo which established the current border between our two sovereign nations.  There are several organizations operating across international lines dedicated to undermine Mexican – American border stability for political purposes.  A great deal of money flows to finance so called ‘caravans’ as well as the constant trickle of smaller groups and individuals.  Illegal crossings are on pace to reach 1 million in 2019.  This represents invasion of a sovereign land and should not to be referred to as immigration.

     So, why is there a debate?  Seriously, why would a single U.S. citizen not value the sovereignty of their own nation and their birthright in sufficient measure to reject rampant, insane disregard for orderly immigration enforcement?  Let’s scratch the surface a bit.

‘Progressivism’ is a movement away from the fore referenced tenets of our Constitutionally limited, Representative Republic toward a pure democracy or more precisely, mob rule.  The progressive movement is predicated on the false idea our Constitution is a “living, breathing document.”  It is not.  The primary tools leftist progressives have always used are derision, deception, division, and most efficacious, distortion and manipulation of history to denigrate those who came before, including our imperfect founders.  Progressivism was not historically nor currently limited to leftists.  Both sides of the aisle and most citizens are currently infected.  Progressives infiltrated American education at the turn of the 20th century.  The premise of John Dewey and others, was that public educators rightfully held the keys and moral high ground to engineer and mold society.  A society wherein the populace will have been sculpted into civility by an authoritarian bureaucracy, thus creating a ‘gentle mob’ if you will; and now in modernity, none so gentle as those who should not be here at all.  Criminality aside, self preservation deems illegal inhabitants for the most part keep their heads down.  Without immersion into the idea of America, you know… that dirty, racist, bigoted, intolerant ‘assimilation’ some of us refer to, most here illegally passively tow the line for those whom they believe to be magnanimous benefactors that advocate for them irrespective of cultural participation or adherence to national policy.  One political party in the U.S. counts on it, both literally and figuratively.

The history I was taught in late 1960’s elementary school was with fraught with hero worship and omission of human tragedy associated with pioneering, settling and conquest of lands here and elsewhere.  High school history in the 70’s certainly incorporated more realism, but was still taught top down so to speak, wherein patriotism, admiration and reverence for folk heroes, political figures and the like were key elements foisted upon students to maintain a sense of national pride, with great emphasis to memorize dates and names relative to pivotal events and accomplishments.  These days public education takes quite a different tack.  The focus exaggerates the perspective of the disenfranchised, victims and inequities of our nation’s expansive, unprecedented growth and of course includes vilification of explorers who, to hear it today, brought only exploitation, disease, racism, ethnic cleansing and war.  Of course  public schools and the collegiate system are not the only purveyors of bottom up re-education; Hollywood, the media, musicians, artists, those oh so boorish late night comedians and many so called modern economists promulgate these precepts as well.  There is no wonder so many think so little of their own country.  Balanced perspective between outright falsehood and ugly truth is only available through exploration which implores one to inquire beyond the places teachers teach,  preachers preach or the politicians and pundits screech.  A sizable swath of U.S.citizens have bought into relentless America bashing and are convinced our nation is somehow more ruthless, barbarous, unethical, and of course privileged than other nations forged in the fires of tumultuous history.  Many believe it so simply because our founders had less melanin content than those who were here before, our founders philosophical, intellectual considerations be damned.  Incidentally, most immigrants who lawfully achieve the dream would summarily disagree with those who hold little regard for the idea of America.  As to the spoils of exploration, pioneering and conquest; yes indigenous people (of color because somehow that makes it worse, it does not) on this continent lost out to overwhelming forces, settlers and industrialists who occupied the land.  Indeed there were slaveholders, indentured servitude, suffering, terrible loss for many, tremendous gains by others and as with any historic upheaval where territories are in dispute, atrocities occurred.  Such is the case throughout human history, but loathing one’s own country having been fed a steady diet of how inequitable and evil U.S. history is dare I say besides inaccurate, wholly unfair.  Hell, there would be no Latin America, Mexico, or Mexican people had Spanish Conquistadors not plundered and decimated the South American continent wiping out huge, arguably more advanced civilizations than those conquered in North America.  Mexico exists as a direct result of exploration by superior forces which resulted in conquest, inequities, exploitation with winners taking the spoils.  Relative to world history, there is nothing uniquely horrendous about U.S. history.  

In absence of accurate, contextual historical perspective many now believe denigrating their own nation and tolerance of lawless migration is the least they can do to absolve the supposed sins of our past.  I understand from where the mindset emanates, but cannot imagine for one second how being possessed of it feels.  There is NO rational reason for any individual to condone the current mess on the border.  In no way does the blood letting of humanity from one geographic location to another equate to compassion, nor will it mitigate delusional, misguided ‘white guilt’ and ‘prosperity shame’ inherent in the self destructive ‘Progressive’ movement.  Or, put another way, we do not owe Mexico or any other nation a damn thing other than to be neighborly and uphold trade agreements.  We owe ourselves the opportunity to get our domestic, economic and cultural affairs in order concurrent with adherence to lawful, orderly, simple and gracious immigration policy predicated on one’s desire to be a U.S. Citizen and an American. 

As Thomas Sowell states, “A country that does not control it’s borders doesn’t have an immigration policy.” 

If one does not believe they deserve to live well in a sovereign land, one will cast the value of their own citizenship to the wayside.  D L Silva

 

Cruising Paradise, Seriously?

IMG_20180816_121312099Four;  the number of times I have been cruised by slovenly, unshaven, apparently desperate male senior citizens whilst on a local park jogging path here on the Big Island of Hawaii.  Ok, for starters I am a highly hygienic, reasonably fit, well coiffed man so there’s that, so please… Look, I take no issue with being hit on, but seriously fellas, clean yourselves up, take a shave… I don’t know, join a gym, buy some threads with sleeves.  Yes, let’s take this moment to ask all men over fifty to leave the tank tops and sleeveless shirts home, irrespective of conditioning and especially in absence thereof.  Take it from the guy who’s tried almost everything, if I were to take a swing, pallid, unkempt and desperate ain’t getting you into club Dave.

The fore referenced pallor and obvious lack of personal awareness is likely the result of spending too much time acting as if one has a dirty little secret to keep; maybe too much time at the filthy keyboard of a Windows 98 computer at the retirement villa? One guy followed me to the urinal in a public restroom; perhaps his idea of getting out?  Not to be confused with coming out.  Yes it’s sad, as most folks are so past it, which begs the question; what’s going on in this day and age that has these relecs cruising for sex?

These desperate, lonely, unevolved men may indeed get a thrill from skulking around in secrecy. The all too human penchant to be driven around by our defiant nature is very common, and manifests most deviant behavior. (Another essay forthcoming)   I refer here to ‘cruising’ as deviant, not homosexuality.  Cruising for sex is dangerous, and is an assault on decency.  This is particularly disturbing at a recreation area used by families and tourists.  Civilized folks do not impugn nor take issue with anyone’s sexual orientation, as such nor do I.  This essay is about what factor may be driving uncivilized behavior, just so we’re clear.

It hit me, what about those computers and the internet?  Wasn’t a certain ‘list’ the manifold gateway to hook up with those nearby interested in ‘casual encounters’?  Of course there are apps for that, but I am to understand they are more sophisticated and social in nature, aimed at those more contented with their lifestyle and momentary impulses.  So… not one to rant without doing my research, I jumped onto the ‘list’.  Low and behold, ‘casual encounters’ has went the wayside due to regulatory interference by the authorities.

I write because words mean things.

The most destructive words currently used in our republic are, “Something’s got to be done about… add fear here.”  And so it is… now, ‘Sex Trafficking’ is the ubiquitous catchphrase used, I submit dubiously,  to legislate against any sexual dalliance those sitting behind their questionably pristine keyboards disapprove of, be it consensual or not.  I submit those wayward dotards who traffic themselves in the park show up partly as the result of overreach by the authorities which quashed a tool of anonymity once used by those desperate relecs to have their purient desires met. Ideally they’d do so with like minded, consenting individuals and in all likelyhood, elsewhere.  Or maybe it really is as simple as no one told ’em, “There’s an app for that.”

Peace,

DLS

Mowing the Haunted Forest

The chase ended with a young male suspect shot dead in the woods near our home.  19536741_BG2

The grove likely appeared to the young perp as good cover, but instead proved to be the next to final trap.  I will make no judgement as to his destination.  Surrounded, but evidently not surrendered, bullets ripped and punctured his body into corpsedom.

Timely death knows no schedule, nor honors turn of event.

I mow the grove often.  In local lexicon we live in what’s called ‘Green Country’, and that reference is borne of powerful spring and summer thunder showers which nourish hay fields we cut short and call lawns.  From May through September us Oklahoman’s cut the field grass to lawn length often; every 6 days or so at the peak growing season, lest a two acre task become a full days chore.

The Husqvarna fired up and roared to life beneath me with enough authority to let me know it was up to the morning quest for manicured, green acres.  Movement settles the addled mind and as I headed out toward the grove on the back of the property the drone of 27 horsepower rocked me and the machine along uneven ground performing the magic of calming my restless, grasping mind.  I picked a line on which to enter the grove and set my sights on a pattern which appeared as a mental terrain map I would use to efficiently mow around and through the stand of trees on the eastern end of our property.  Slowed thoughts coalesced as the machine adroitly sluiced tall grass out the chute.  Amusement found it’s way in as I realized Silva, my last name, is Portuguese for ‘a stand of lush green trees’.  We affectionately call this area ‘Hook’s Grove’ for mom and Dave’s last name but it could very well be called ‘Hook’s Silva’.  I chugged along on the orange tractor, my face halved into a smirk, feeling pretty smart relative to my little word play epiphany.

On my second pass around the south end of the stand  I saw the shirt.  Gray, with blue and white stripes, long sleeve, western style and full of holes; stained holes —- could this be?  I mean seriously, there’s no way Pryor’s finest would leave such a thing behind, right?  My noggin made a helluva’ u-turn from amused to bemused… and as I yanked the wheel the lawn tractor lurched, twisted and re-directed in kind.  As is typical, I simply brushed the thoughts aside with hope that imagination and reason would cease being in conflict and guided the 48″ mower deck over to destroy and disburse the disturbing garment.  As the deck sucked the shirt under the front lip the motor groaned, I felt a whomp, heard a whump, then some squealing and finally a backfired stall for the mower could not digest the striped cotton meal handed to it.  So much for moving beyond my foolish folly regarding the shirt and the dead guy.  The catalyst of calamitous thinking was now wrapped around the center blade and bound to one of the outboard blades.  Some disassembly required.

To be continued.

 

 

Pedaling discord

Image

I cycle. My friends cycle. Seemingly at some point everyone cycled growing up.  Right?  Didn’t we all at some time share exuberant wheeled flight through our respective neighborhoods?  Did not the residents thereof give us grace and safe passage with genuine delight, or at the very least purse lipped smiles of acquiescence?  I am certain no one got pissed off at me for riding my bike when I was a kid.  Hmmm…ok there was that one time…

So what’s going on?  How come as soon as we don spandex and climb onto state of the art carbon flyers as adults the attitude kicks in?

I query those commandeering motor vehicles, but let’s face it, a few of our spandex warrior buds are packin’ more than genitalia into those padded britches.  (I cringe at the high speed weekender pelotons on our local recreation path; another discussion.)   Relative to motor vehicle operators, the attitude of distain is encountered frequently and one of those included the bumper of a car tickling the hair on my calf at 40 mph, one finger out the window and one hand on her cell phone; who was driving?  We had never met, slept together or spoken previously, thus I will never know from whence her ire emanated.  She almost hit me in a bike lane and she was mad about it dammit!   I do know this; these type of events are completely irrational and therein I believe lay the inexplicable attitude so many of my cycling peers have encountered and can confirm.

We ride, we ideally smile and I get to feel the wind playing with what’s left of my hair during my morning commute.  It’s contentment not smugness, I swear.

Perhaps guilt is the issue.  Do our bright colors, irrespective of proper fit, our sweat, and our awesome calves remind the couch potato and drive through crowd how lazy they are?   Then of course there is the fact during busy commute time on signal laden thoroughfares, we are every bit as fast as are those in their vehicles.   Three or four red turning to green lights into this scenario is when I get the exhaust pipe acceleration plume as they blow by assuring, proving, demanding with foot to the floor I acknowledge that indeed the car or truck is superior, and most importantly faster.  Everyone’s in a damn hurry to get somewhere.  Funny thing; I always arrive where I am to be on time irrespective of my mode of transportation and astride my carbon steed paused at a red light on a sweltering hot day I am wide awake, thankful for my little bottle of water, and glad I am never stuck in traffic.

I have no answer, just a little Saturday afternoon balderdash…

D.L.