A couple of political targets are especially deserving of mockery today, but first, I’ve got a quick update on my trip north.
I spent several great days in Illinois with three of my cousins, and since we didn’t go to Chicago, I have survived to tell the tale.
The leaf colors were near their peak, and we hiked for about 10 miles each day on canal paths and in Starved Rock state park, which is just downriver from my birthplace. (Tragically – and really, inexplicably — there is no flattering equestrian statue of me there to mark the place or the event.)
The daytime temps both days were in the low 40s, which is just about perfect for hiking. The first day, we even had about 10 minutes of snow flurries, despite the above-freezing temps. The experience triggered a lot of happy memories from my childhood. The crisp, bracing breeze; the birdsong and sounds of leaves crackling under your feet; the clean, tannic smell in the air.
If I could have gone to a small-town football game, and then taken a hayrack ride and had some apple cider, the experience would have been perfect.
One downside of living in north central Florida is the lack of a real fall and winter. When it does get down into the 20s at night about half a dozen times in the winter, everyone loses their minds. The local news anchors shriek about the three “P”s – pipes, plants and pets (cover the first two, bring in the third) – in the same tone you’d expect if they were delivering the news of incoming nuclear missiles.
So I really appreciate the chance to travel up north in the fall.
On Wednesday I drove back down to TN, and yesterday mom and I took a drive to the charming town of Franklin. It was another sunny, fall day, and we parked downtown, then took a leisurely walk along the tree-lined streets, looking at the well-kept old houses. We ended up back in the town square, and had a nice lunch at Puckett’s, where I understand they have live music on the weekends.
(I’d be very disappointed if the playlist doesn’t have a lot more Johnny Cash and Hank Williams than Lizzo and Cardi B.)
We ended our rambling on the far end of town, and Waze gave me an alternate route home that took us on a winding two-lane road through the rolling hills, in slanting, late-afternoon sunshine on scenic Carter’s Creek Pike.
Which is about the most Tennessee road name you’re ever going to hear.
Now get ready for some whiplash, as I transition from all of those familial ties that bind and the beauty of God’s creation to three ridiculous stories from our political opposition.
First we go to the University of Minnesota’s most recent “white coat” induction ceremony for a new class of medical students. That ceremony involved a doctor leading all students in a nearly 500-word, chanted pledge.
I’m not opposed to all repeat-after-me, chanted pledges or vows. I like old timey wedding vows. I’m very fond of the Boy Scout oath and the Pledge of Allegiance, even though they both now feel a little like something from the Pleistocene era.
I’m deeply moved every time I’m in a group, and hear many voices begin, “Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name…”
But those (God help us) future doctors’ chanting was nothing like that. Their pledge was a mishmash of every hollow, woke, virtue-signaling cliché that’s ever made you throw up in the back of your mouth a little.
Or, as the late, great Norm MacDonald would say, it sounded like, “a bunch of f***-in’ commie gobbledy-gook!”
They started with the obligatory land acknowledgment, noting that their university “is located on Dakota land.”
If they really believed that the land still belongs to the Dakotas, they should shut down their school and give it to them. Then, by the same logic, the Dakotas would have to give it to whichever tribe they stole it from, who would have to give it to the tribe they stole it from, until they got all the way back to an early hominid with the kind of thick brow ridge you never see outside of a museum display on Cro-Magnons.
Or a John Fetterman speech.
That process would be almost as stupid and pointless as if they just cut out all of the gyrations and turned the place directly over to the Pale Powhatan herself, Lizzie Warren. (#wemustneverstopmockingher)
Among other things, they then go on to “commit to uprooting the legacy and perpetuation of structural violence deeply embedded within the health care system,” and to fight the “inequities…and traumas rooted in white supremacy, colonialism, the gender binary, ableism and all forms of oppression.”
Which makes our medical system sound great, doesn’t it? Come for the structural violence, stay for the oppressive and traumatic racism and colonialism.
But that’s not all.
They want you to know that they are big on anti-racism, and they love the environment, as you can see when they pledge to “heal the planet.” They also “promise to continue restoring trust in the medical system.”
Gee, I wonder why people need to have their trust in the medical system restored? Maybe it’s because you numbskulls are more concerned with healing Gaia than with healing grandma!
The best part – if by “best” you mean “worst” – is this sentence, which I swear I am not making up: “We pledge to honor all indigenous ways of healing that have been historically marginalized by western medicine.”
Ah yes, the indigenous ways of healing, which resulted in an average lifespan of 31 years. When a (witch) doctor could take coursework in trepanation, do an internship in leech application, and then specialize in plant-based poultices that are most efficacious for driving off evil spirits.
After all, who needs dialysis or cardiac stents when you can stick with a combination of feng shui and reading chicken entrails to determine which of my humors are out of whack?
And by the way, if those “marginalized” practices were unwisely rejected by western medicine, why are you all so eager to take on six figure debts to get a degree in that nasty, ableist cesspool of western medicine?
I would sooner trust the medical wisdom of my high school football coach – whose primary prescriptions were “rub some dirt on it” and, “walk it off” – than this bunch of cowed and spineless hacks.
Next we go to Wolfsburg, Germany, where 9 narcissistic “scientists” glued their hands to the floor of a VW dealership to protest fossil fuels and climate change.
Rather than taking the Simpson approach – yanking them all off of the floor (leaving them with a lot less hand skin than they started with) and tossing them in jail – the Germans at the dealership displayed some German ingenuity.
They turned off the lights and the heat in the building and went home.
Naturally, the protestors complained that they had been left in a dark, cold building. But since electricity and heat are provided almost totally by fossil fuels (coal, natural gas) or nuclear energy, the VW people were just giving the foolish alarmists what they wanted, and teaching them a lesson:
A world without fossil fuels is cold and dark.
The protestors also complained that they weren’t given “a bowl to urinate and defecate in.”
You should have thought about that before you glued your hand to a freakin’ floor, Klaus!
I’d always thought it was a cliché, but in this case it was true: these guys really didn’t have a pot to p*ss in.
Finally, a notoriously anti-police, far-left ice cream shop in Seattle got a karma cone covered in schadenfreude sauce.
The Full Tilt Ice Cream shop has spent the last several years hip-deep in leftist group-think. Their social media has been a non-stop screed of hatred for the cops and support for BLM and CHOP, even when such leftist hate groups were destroying large swaths of their city.
But then, on October 4th, two males broke in and robbed the place. So naturally, the lactose-loving Leninists turned for help to the fascist foot-soldiers of an unjust Amerikkka.
That’s right. The commies called the cops.
I can only hope the cops told them that due to budget cuts, they’d be able to send an officer to investigate… sometime in March or April of next year.
In the meantime, I can’t suggest that everybody who likes ice cream should head down to Full Tilt and help themselves to the inventory. But the owners have worked hard to make Seattle a police-free zone, and their ideology says that profit is evil.
It’s been a long 14 years, but November 8th is almost here.
One thought on “Fall in Illinois, plus Chanting Docs, German Protestors & Commie Ice Cream Shop (posted 10/21/22)”
I get tired of the mountains of “indigenous” crap to which we all seem subject. The fact is, when humanity crawled out of the jungle in Africa and spread east, north, and west, the ones who crossed the land bridge from Asia to North America 30,000 years ago (more or less) found absolutely no one in North – or, for that matter, South – America. No one. Zero “indigenous” people. Not a one. As a friend of mine, an honest Injun and member of the tribe living on the Lower Elwha Klallam reservation in Washington state, said to me a couple of years ago: “we’re not natives, and neither is anyone else. We’re just as much immigrants as the Irish and Italians who arrived in the 1920s, but we got here a little earlier.” (He also said: “I’m an Indian. My father was an Indian. His father was an Indian. My great-grandfather was an Indian. Leave that “Native” crap for effete easterners who never met one.”)
“Indigenous practices.” What baloney! (Or, given that you’re a retired English professor and precise articulator: what bologna!) But it does become tiresome.