2024-11-09-17:57:49-Saturday-4
~inquiry
------------------------------------------------------------------
### 2024-11-09-17:57:49-Saturday-4

Conservatives accept and attempt to work within a historically
accepted reality.

When liberals, on the other hand, find historically accepted
reality no longer jibes with where one or more of their narratives
have shifted, they reject it in favor of repeating phrases about it
in unison - preferably with newly created or redefined words -
until the phrases become their new collective reality.

In other words, they exercise the magick of self hypnosis with
respect to historically accepted reality.

See how simple this is? :-)

### 2024-11-09-13:45:30-Saturday-3

I'm in a bit of a food digestion coma, hands much colder than
torso.

T-Mobile's 5G internet is pretty painfully spotty today, having me
run terminal stuff that needs internet as in a bash script that
does this:

```
digg;$*
```

where 'digg' is this Lua script:

```
#! /usr/bin/env lua
while true do
os.execute('dig')
io.stdout:write('<enter> or Ctrl-D: ')
local answer = io.stdin:read('*l')
if not answer then
break
end
end
os.execute('clear')
```

In other words, what I really want to run doesn't run until after
'dig' tells me underlying networking infrastructure can find a
nameserver.

I do that because dig shows me nice, obvious output when that
occurs, whereas if it happens to "lynx", it can result in winding
up in a state that requires more keystrokes. So once I see "dig"
punch through, I can maybe jump into what I really wanted to run
and execute a few more network-related things therein without a
blank screen unresponsive wait.

### 2024-11-09-11:57:29-Saturday-2

Reality remains regardless how the dead, fallen leaves of
descriptions thereof rustle and scamper about in often unintuitive
ways as mental winds and gusts map out paths between higher and
lower pressure.

It's a cold, variations-on-the-theme-of-grey day. (I took a stance
on 'grey' over 'gray' decades ago.) Awoke at 6am, which is late for
me. Too much to drink last night, but whatever. Listened to people
whose character and opinions I respect, which this morning included
Victor Davis Hanson and Scott Adams.

My long time correspondent friend from high school replied to
something I wrote him about last night that confirms my growing
sense of the pointlessness of arguing with faith. We're in utterly
different movies. Which doesn't mean the exchange has to end, but
pretty much everything about it other than descriptions of
happenings will.

I'm beginning to understand the exhilarating freedom of being
cancelled by the champions of self-imposed victimhood. Their faith
in their private movie is impenetrable. Oh how glorious to be done
with abiding their monotonous shorts and reruns!

### 2024-11-09-07:24:59-Saturday-1

Fun night, last.

Two charity events. We has some serious luck at the first, winning,
let's see, $360 in one drawing, and an extra free shot at the big
drawing (which didn't pan out for us), then two $62 wins.

Cray!

Of course, we spent more than that on the combination of entry, and
then several "auction" wins. But not a whole lot more. So we wound
up with dinner, an open bar (on beer/wine), and a five baskets of
stuff for next to nothing.

(And as a matter of fact, I *did* just hear the anti-capitalists in
the audience of this poorly written account groan while relocating
their precious little selves to an even higher position of
self-righteousness in judgement of evil "Muricans" who think only
about themselves whilst lost in an endless downward spiral of
hoard-focused consumerism!)

We were late to the second event, but that's okay, for reasons I
won't go into in order to spare those referred to in the previous
parenthetical from being triggered into additional toxic
indignancy.

Closer to the negative end of the experiential spectrum, the
grandson we sit once or twice a week has increasing destructive
tendencies that my wife is finally recognizing as intolerable.
Destroying things has always been a feature of what I've considered
lowest rung human beings. And it's not like the kid is angry while
clearing things that used to serve a useful purposes of
table/counter tops, throwing things without a specific direction in
mind (sometimes potentially dangerous things like silverware), or
just plain hitting things against other things until they fall
apart. It's more that his face goes blank, yet with a sense of some
kind of "mission". But, of course, he's unable to articulate the
motivation/need/joy/etc., and all attempts to distract him down
some other path, "cradle him with love", etc. fail.

I"m just plain literally tired of it, as I've no longer the
physical wherewithal to having to pick up after his messes. Nor do
I possess the emotional wherewithal to "now, now, poor whittle
Pawlies, we mustn't blah blah" the kid. I need it stop soon, if not
sooner, as my inner response - no doubt sparked by the "chromosome
of toxicity within" (coughs while rolling eyes) - is in the
direction of treating him as he's treating the objects others have
worked hard to obtain, because I can't imagine another path that
has historically supported demonstrable good results, and whose
execution I have the overall biological wherewithal to practice.

Since methods that once sorta kinda worked in the past *nowadays*
merit a permanent social penalty box, my solution will be to do as
The Enlightened Onliners do: avoid and ignore him into submission.

And, by the way, thank you for showing me how that's done! ;-)