Are you a Spoiled Brat?

Do you know a Spoiled Brat?

Is your neighbor a Spoiled Brat?

Are your children Spoiled Brats?

Spoiled Brats -- Look no further:
A spoiled brat is the cause of every ongoing social
problem on earth. Every single one.

Is this website about your demon-spawn kids?
It probably is. Are you a spoiled brat too?

Remember, every spoiled brat enjoys a profoundly
"misguided sense of entitlement"
. That's the bottom line.

Never has the phrase "Spoiled Brat" been more apropos than now. Never.

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Who's a Spoiled Brat?

at

SpoiledRottenBrats.Com

 

[Could this describe half or more of the people in all relatively affluent nations?]

 

This editorial web page contains and includes my opinions, suspicions, hunches, best recollections, etc.
All content contained herein is cleared by my First Amendment attorney.
Would you like to sue me? Go for it.
This website is Copyright (c) 2020 by "SpoiledRottenBrats.com". All rights reserved. This work may not be duplicated in whole or in part without express written permission. We've had national magazines steal and publish work in the past; in all cases we sued and won cash awards. We're ready and willing to do it again. We don't like spoiled rotten thieves. Do you?

 

"Spoiled Rotten Brat" refers to any human who may be a child, or who acts like a child, who is so self-centered they have no respect for the wants, desires, or needs of anyone around them. They aren't aware of them. They simply don't care if they are aware. To them, you are bacteria, either a means to a selfish end, or you're in the way.

Animals can be spoiled too. In the real world, life knocks that crap out of them very, very quickly. But in today's fairytale world, hubris and conceit is allowed to develop, flourish and even thrive, in animals AND in humans. Think: Hollywood.

Like the fruit that by happenstance was able to grow in the perfect environment, in the perfect soil, with perfect sunshine, perfect rainfall, no insects to test its breeding, no wind to test its roots or make it strong, pampered at every turn; it's beautiful for awhile, but reality soon enough rears its ugly head when it's spoiled. Think CNN's Jim Acosta -- perhaps the world's finest example of rotting, wasted flesh.

The world is teeming with spoiled brats of every type, brand and description. Maybe, just like a plugged up toilet, it's actually overflowing with them.

The relative affluence that exists in the world today is producing spoiled rotten brats in record numbers. We're even seeing them in developing Third World countries. I know; I live in one. It's not always money or things that spoils someone; a simple lack of guidance and discipline will create the same societal menace. Dirt-poor societies can produce spoiled brats, but not at the numbers rich countries do.

Life is easier than before. Modern parents, especially in nanny-states like America, the UK, Australia, Germany, France (etc) are seldom tested sufficiently by real life, so their children aren't taught about real life either and are protected and insulated from all the trials that would have taught them humility and true strength of character.

Think: "Idiocracy" -- it's playing out before our very eyes in real time all around the world, but especially in Liberal/Democratically-run cities in the US. It's not an opinion. Research the numbers. And Conservatives ain't far behind.

Sometimes it rains; that's a fact. Sometimes the sun shines; that's a fact. Sometimes dogs get hit by cars; that's a fact. Democratically-run cities are a horror; that's a long-established fact. It doesn't matter if you don't believe it, just as it doesn't matter if you don't believe it's raining. Facts don't care if you believe in them or not, sorry to say.

The offspring of spoiled rotten little brats will further cause society to devolve, because they'll be even more spoiled, self-centered, hapless and blind than their parents. I don't believe there is an end to this movement short of a cataclysmic disaster that culls the silly and the helpless, and forces survivors to (re)grow some brains. People are provably dumber than they used to be -- another inconvenient fact. The dumbing-down of the world will continue slowly, albeit unabated, until something really big interrupts it. The arrogance of the spoiled precludes them learning how to behave, and intelligent people recognize this, which drives them farther and farther into effective hiding, making fewer and fewer attempts to put the train back on the tracks. Increasingly, they see the futility.

When you were in junior or senior high school, or university for that matter, how many of the children around you and in your classes would you trust to run the world? In all my years in school, I can think of perhaps one....or two, who might have been worthy of being tested to see if they could handle a minor leadership role. Probably both would have failed those tests. The US government (local and Federal, inclusive) employs around 18% of the country's entire workforce. That's a pathetically wasteful figure but that's not our concern for the moment.

The point is this: 18 out of every 100 bozos, bimbettes, fools, malcontents, lazy idiots, horsey sluts (vice president, anyone?), slackers, mentally handicapped but didn't know its, future serial killers, future prostitutes, future Las Vegas strippers, dope heads, drug dealers, cop killers, Marxists, Communists, Satanic Worshipers, school "administrators", judges, animal torturers, liars, pimps, pedophiles, and general malfeasant incompetents, are now running your nation. That means they're running you. Do you like how they're doing?

holy terror
punk
rogue

Go to any junior or senior high school today and look around for thirty seconds; no longer is required. And realize that 18 of every 100 be-bopping "Killer Clowns from Space" acts will soon be making your personal decisions for you, and there's fuck-all you can do about it. Nearly every one of those "future leaders" is a spoiled rotten brat. They're as useless as an overcooked brussel sprout. Yet they're running the show on your behalf. If your moronic classmates were spoiled brats then, they're spoiled brats now. They didn't suddenly get smart or develop worthwhile characters when they got hired on as district attorneys, prosecutors, CIA chiefs, or elected by other morons to be mayors, Congress-boys-and-girls, Senators, presidents or Vice-- at their core they're still the same old dumbass dipshits. But now they have a greater or lesser degree of power over you. Be afraid. Be very afraid.

Northern Europe was a marvelous school after the last ice age. Humans had to put up or shut up. Game was scarce; only the strongest and most clever of hunters survived. The weather was atrocious -- only those with enough brain cells managed to learn to plan for the seasons to keep warm and dry and fed in tough times. The silly did not survive to produce more silliness. It was called, oddly enough, natural selection. Many more temperate parts of the world presented fewer challenges to the species, and the results can be researched.

There is a small bay with a river emptying into it in Alaska (one of millions), where the salmon struggled valiantly to make it up and over a falls, in order to breed and further the species. Many or most failed. Some well-meaners came along and lamented their plight, because the falls were quite difficult after all. They were concerned for the future of that salmon run. Nice hippy folks.

So they put together a project -- the millions of dollars of your money that was required is unknown -- and they built a tunnel for the fish to swim through, under the falls, thereby avoiding the falls altogether, and also dodging the ever-hungry bears. This made it easy for nearly every single fish to make it up-river to the spawning grounds and reproduce. Now, not only the strong and smart could succeed. EVERYONE COULD.

Then the nice humans brushed the dust off their hands and sat back, smug in the certain knowledge that they had saved the run, and soon the numbers of fish would be staggering.

Imagine their chagrin, then, when the run declined....and declined....until it was very nearly extinct. Oh, what could have happened!?

Fortunately for the fish, some wiser people came along and explained calmly that this group had removed everything that made the salmon strong. Therefore, all the weak ones were able to bypass the falls and breed, and create more weak fish, who created fish less capable and dumber still, and soon the entire run was a sad affair of weaklings and slackards and diseases and hunger. The run was documentably dying off.

The tunnel was plugged off reluctantly (it was a magnificent and expensive tunnel), barely in the nick of time, and the strength -- and numbers -- of the run eventually grew back to their original glory, after a period of further decline while the weak were culled by natural selection.

A handful of fools had spoiled them rotten. Lucky someone fixed it. Think of it: Spoiled Rotten Fish.

I wonder what the human offspring of these "fish-saving-dweebs" were/are like. Likely, they're now the politicians sheltering, protecting and making excuses for the mindless, uneducated, spoiled rotten brat looters and arsonists in places like Portland, Oregon, Seattle USA, and Washington D.C. in mid-2020. They undoubtedly hatched a bunch of weak-thinking-demon-spawn, and now they, those parents, are at the mercy of their children's madness. Unfortunately, the good and productive people in society are at the mercy of those ravaging little shitheads too. I wonder if their kids are in Portland and Seattle right now, burning down public buildings and earning the heartfelt praise of those mayors.

scamp
monkey
minx

I had a quasi-friend decades ago who was heavily involved in the "horse show" thing. I worked as a cow-puncher and horse shoer (farrier) for many years and I'm sorry, but I just don't like the horse show crowd. I even wrote a book about them. But anyway, this gal had a lot of money and even more hubris and she wanted only the very best (i.e. prettiest) horses in the world. --Not so she could ride them or perform any useful work on them of course, but rather so that others would envy her. That's it. That was her motivation in its entirety.

She bought more and more expensive horses, as she could afford them by her husband's hard work, and finally she attained what was, to her, the pinnacle of horse-flesh ownership. By God, this turkey would win her some shows.

She kept it blanketed (so it didn't grow any coat and ruin its looks) and she installed light-timers in its stall (so it would be further tricked into thinking it was always summer, and hence, not grow any hair which would ruin its looks), and she kept it exclusively in a lush, padded cell --er, I mean, stall. Heated in winter. Air-conditioned in summer. Always spotless and cushy. Had it not been a mare she probably would have stolen out to the barn every night and given it a proper blow-job. Sorry for the unforgettable graphic but that's a sample of how weary I am of this crowd.

On the rare occasions she took it outside, it shivered and looked around, bug-eyed -- shivered because it had no coat of hair and it was freezing in 60f temperatures, and bug-eyed because it was scared to death of anything except the inside of its lovely stall or a round pen. Its brain at age six was a blank chip. It kicked and bit and reared and bucked. It probably would have pissed on peoples' legs if it had had a penis. All it had going on for itself, and I mean all, was a desireable conformation; it had not manners, nor common sense, nor a brain. Think: CNN's Jim Acosta.

Nothing much was ever asked of this hoss, except to prance daintily on cue and to stand still while being meticulously brushed and groomed, among other equally valueless tricks that so amused the horse show crowd. It was never, of course, ridden on even a manicured trail. But pictures were encouraged when it was taken into the round-pen to longe around on a bed eight inches deep of finely-sifted scented wood chips. She had invested in this waste of flesh about the same amount her husband had invested in their entire home and ranchette, complete with private runway.

One day this horse broke its leg. No one knew how -- maybe it was doing jumping jacks in its soft stall out of boredom and that stress proved too much. It broke its leg because its bones had never been asked (or allowed to) do a Goddamned thing in the real world. It was a prissy, il-tempered, spoiled rotten brat of a horse who had never grown a proper bone nor developed the muscles to support itself. It had shoved its leg bone right down through the center of its hoof, then broke it.

Being that the horse was so insanely expensive, the owner elected to try to heal the mess that overindulgence created. Of course it was patently hopeless, and cruel, and I told her so bluntly, as did the vets and her friends and probably passersby -- but she had more money than brains and she loved this spoiled donkey of an equine and she footed the bill, no pun please.

It was placed in a sling brought in on a lowboy semi trailer, then operated on for 12 hours, sewn up and it had to hang there for weeks while being cared for 24/7 by a veterinary team. The woman dutifully followed all instructions from all the vets. The bill was, as they said in the old Space Balls movie, "Beyond Ludicrous".

But finally it was pronounced healed. And fit. -Fit for standing still and looking pretty at the horse shows. And all was well with the world until two weeks later when it did the same damned thing again and was mercifully put down.

princess
egotist
narcissist
crybaby

People are usually what we think of when we think of being spoiled, but animals (yapping little house dogs reeking of Banty-Rooster Syndrome, anyone?) can be too, and this was a classic case. This woman had protected this horse from absolutely everything life could toss its way, to the point that it couldn't handle even horsing around inside a cushy stall.

This woman, presumably with the help of her husband, produced a female child who is one of perhaps three or four people I've encountered in my life as being deserving of the title EVIL. Charlie Manson is one. This girl is pure, unadulterated, spoiled-rotten-brat, three orders of magnitude below valueless. No other phrase could describe her.

I rode long night trails on rustler patrol for an 1100 section ranch in the SW US a few lifetimes ago and I mostly rode mustangs because they could do at least twice the work of any domestic horse and they were documentably smarter too. This was a result of (here it comes again) natural selection. Unfortunately many were trained poorly by ham-fisted boobs, fresh off the range as wild horses, and my rustler-hunting was one part hunting and one part training out the stupid things some jackass had unwittingly trained into the horse I was on for that part of the day. It was typical to wear out two or three horses a day.

I amassed a small reputation for being good at sorting out recalcitrant horses and so people brought them to me. Mostly yuppies. Mostly idiot, spoiled domestic horses. And plenty of Goddamned Appaloosas.

I remember a case in which a good friend and his wife brought me her little mare who was behaving badly; she wanted it "fixed". In 15 seconds I knew the horse had been horrifically spoiled and "fixing" a spoiled horse is, for me, a fairly unpleasant task. It's much easier to put good, new data into their empty heads, than to take bad, corrupt, old data out and THEN put new, good data back in, in its place. But it can be done and so I did it.

After a week her horse was more or less ridable, provided the rider remained CEO. I called her to come collect it -- no charge. I schooled the woman politely in the horse's behavior before, compared to now, and why it was acting badly before, and why it was acting measurably better now, and I explain patiently and clearly how to correct the bad behavior when it cropped up again -- and crop up again it would. She got aboard to try her out, and within, literally, 7 minutes, she had reverted the horse right back to where it had been a week prior. I told her so and she went away and the horse eventually became completely unridable and was sold by the pound. The woman cried. Boo Hoo. That horse was a spoiled rotten brat and it cost her her life.

imp
rascal
temperamental person
prima donna

This woman's husband had been a quite good friend of mine for some years. One day he went to his local supermarket and bought, among other things, a can of beans. Nice beans. Cheap beans. He had glanced at the little sign in front of the rows of cans of beans, there on the bean shelf, and it had read: "89 cents". It was a fair enough price. They were quality beans.

At the checkout counter, the can was scanned and rung up at $1.11. A dollar eleven? Asked my friend a little breathlessly. Yes, that was correct, the checkout lady assured him, as she kept on scanning and ringing as fast as she could. But my friend asked her to go back and check that can again because, his eyesight being quite good, he was positive it was really supposed to cost eighty nine cents.

The woman re-scanned it. Yep. A buck eleven.

My friend then asked that it be re-scanned AGAIN. So the nice lady re-scanned it AGAIN. Three scans now, mind you. And it scanned at a buck eleven all three times.

My friend refused to pay.

The lady, non-plussed, politely put the can off to the side and continued ringing up his goods. He paid for them, then went directly to the manager's office.

The good manager was duly apologetic and took my friend back to the bean shelf to see what was going on.

--Turns out my friend had taken the can of beans from in front of the eighty nine cent row, yes, but it had accidentally been put there by some asshole customer. The manager showed my friend that all other beans of that exact type and size, in their properly allocated rows, were really a buck eleven, per the little price sign. The eighty nine cent beans were different kinds of beans.

My friend was doubly incensed. How the Eff could this happen, he admittedly bellowed!?

Well, the kind manager explained, sometimes in real life things like this DO happen, and we must all come to grips with these gargantuan misfortunes and try to just get along as best we could. Maybe it was kids just playing around. "Tell you what," the manager said. "I'll give you this can at eighty nine cents."

My friend took it, and paid for it, and went home.

But now there was a burr under his saddle and he just couldn't let it go.

A week later he went back to the manager and told him the resolution wasn't good enough. He wanted four cans now. For free. To make up for some sort of mental trauma or something.

The manager knew, then, what he was dealing with, but gave the guy the four cans for free, hoping to cut his losses and wash his hands of this problem.

My friend thanked him and went home.

But he related to me, quite proudly, that he went back a week later and demanded half a case of beans. For free.

The manager saw an opportunity to solve this once and for all so he agreed, on the condition that my friend never set foot in his store again. My friend agreed, and took the beans home.

But, you know, when you get a burr under your saddle, sometimes it gets just plain infected, and more serious remedies are required to treat it.

My friend went back to the store and demanded 3 cases. For free. And the police were called and he was escorted out in full view of numerous friends in that small community.

And that served to terminate my friendship with this man forever.

Spoiled Rotten Fucking Brat. I never knew he had that in him.

The weird thing was, his parents were never rich, and this man worked hard for a living, and as far as I ever knew, he was never spoiled in any way. But he was still a spoiled rotten brat. This couple produced a boy who was, and is as an adult, a spoiled rotten brat. Go figure.

Sometimes this condition isn't caused, but is organic. It's in the genes. I suspect Jim Acosta's embarrassing, glaring character flaw in this regard was both cooked into his DNA, but also nurtured and encouraged by a ludicrously doting Mommy. Just a hunch.

America is full of children who grow into a quasi-adulthood who have been spoiled and ruined just like this. They don't know a Goddamned thing about a Goddamned thing, but rest assured, they're Legends in Their Own Minds.

Their fool, helpless, hapless professors, if they went to school, have been training them badly indeed, spoiled brats that most of them are too. They never had any real job (like most politicians) because their parents didn't want them to have to "suffer" through a summer (or five) of mowing lawns or changing car tires at the local gas station or working in a commercial laundry or a factory or --- And so they endured few hardships, if any, which meant their bones -- physically and mentally -- were weak. We see them on TV every day now, every hour, especially in the age of Black Lives Matter (BLM).

Who ARE the Black Lives Matter crowd? I would have hoped that they were good people who were tired of seeing black people treated poorly, and who wanted the world to know that, by God, BLACK LIVES MATTER. And a few are exactly that.

But those aren't really the folks behind that movement now.

There's a growing segment of every population who dreams of chaos. Because they're lazy. And stupid to the point of being reptilian. And they have this clinically-insane notion that if there is no law, then there is no rent to pay, and food is free, and electricity grows on trees, and --- It's every communist's wet-dream. AOC, anyone?


Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez (Brainless AOC)

I've lived in teepees.
Trust me -- tents are better.

Of course the whole concept of anarchy is as flawed as flawed can get. But you'll never convince the looters, rapists, arsonists, murderers, and other assorted imbeciles and vermin, that while democracy very often sucks, it sucks less than every other alternative the world has shit out its ass over endless millennia. Capitalism sucks. I'm the first to admit it. But show me a system that's better. If you do, I'll RUN to it. But you won't. Because you can't. I wish there was one. There isn't. Be an adult and suck it up and make the best system better. It's a simple concept that requires only 7 seconds of elementary thought. Unless you're stupid. Or insane.

But none of this matters because the looting mentality doesn't give a rat's ass about any of it. They never did. They simply want to steal and burn and kill and rape and destroy. That is TRULY all they want out of life. It's baked into their DNA and always has been. They grasp at ANYTHING that will provide the flimsiest of excuses for behaving like this. It seems impossible that any human being could ever be that whacked in the head. But the numbers of "whacked in the head" are huge now. Huge. And growing exponentially.

These are born as worthless dipshits who never got the stupidity learned out of them, because they were spoiled. Take a natural born child molester and reinforce that natural tendency with kiddie porn for twenty or forty years and see what you produce. Nature AND nurture.

BLM came along, and as a philosophy and a movement it actually has some merit. That was the icing on the cake. It had legitimacy. That made it easier for the rapists and killers and arsonists to latch onto it. After all, how are you going to argue with THAT? Just feign a good measure of righteous indignation and then go out and burn and destroy and rape under that umbrella. Perfect! And the liberal media laps it up because they're only four inches from that mentality anyway!

BLM offers a great cover for those who simply want to destroy and who don't care what or why, where or when. They've attached themselves to this movement, and many others, in order to act like spoiled rotten brats and more or less get away with it. And because so many political "leaders" are also worthless dipsticks, the chaos is working out, really, pretty well. The few true Black Lives Matter proponents are powerless to get their train back on the track, but of course they never really tried, not even in the beginning.

punk kid
terror
disruptive child
troublemaker

In every march, there's a small percentage of well-meaning, believing folks making signs and chanting. Honestly, the movement needs far and many more of those and they need to do more than make signs and dance and chant, drink and shoot fireworks. They need to organize, educate and vote. But it's now moot since the entire ideology has been hijacked by the absolute scum of the earth. The Spoiled. Rotten. Brats.

I watch "news"-casters struggle endlessly to ascribe various tenets of logic and reason to the current BS that's burning America. They'll endlessly lament the rioters, saying things like, "But why don't they understand....(this or that)". Seriously? Why don't looters and rapists and killers just stop for a moment, and think clearly about what they're doing, and how it's bad for the BLM cause, or any other cause. Seriously. Why can't they just stop and think?

It's because they don't have any brains. Maybe flying monkeys stole them. Chances are it was several generations of drug and alcohol use and abuse and they're suffering from fetal alcohol/drug syndromes compounded one upon another for the last 60 years. They're stupid. Get it? Stop asking why they just can't see--- if they could SEE the logic of not burning down the businesses they depend on in their daily lives, they wouldn't do it. You wouldn't have to ask them why they're doing it or to think about why they're doing it -- if they had even three tiny brain cells to rub together they wouldn't be doing it. So stop asking why they do it. They do it because they're stupid and they are absolutely ruled by raw, spoiled-rotten-brat emotion and utterly nothing else. They aren't even as reasonable as monkeys. I know, because I live with monkeys (real ones) every day and they are smarter. Some are even my friends. The current BLM rioters are brain damaged light years beyond anything the terminally-yuppified pundits and announcers and big-boned, Ivy-League-educated Scandinavian blonds who exclusively populate some outlets can even remotely relate to. The rioters are animals and that's an insult to animals. Choke it down. Stop trying to assess it. Stop trying to rationalize it. Some things just ARE. Rain IS. All you can really do is get out of its way. There is less than no point in asking the rain to think about the picnic it is ruining.

It used to be (in caveman days) that the mentally handicapped were relatively few and far between. They couldn't hunt. They couldn't build shelters. They couldn't outsmart their adversaries. Big critters ate them often. If they were too annoying, someone konked them in the skull with a bone club and they didn't breed any more losers. It was called (wait for it) natural selection.

I used to work as First Mate on a cargo boat servicing a long coastline dotted with millions of islands. Upon many of these islands lived native Indian tribes. We serviced a particular tribe more often than some others and I studied them quite thoroughly for several years. When one of the tribe raped or killed too many of its members, a hunting party was arranged and the offender was invited to go along. Delighted, he went. And he never came back. I personally watched this play out again and again. I never understood why the offenders couldn't figure out that being invited to a hunting party was NOT a good thing. I supposed they never dreamed that the things they'd done amounted to enough to cost them their lives, but the Indians had patience far beyond those of Mother Teresa and by the time they got around to offing one of their own, their list of transgressions against the society would have caused the Pope himself to throttle them to death a decade before the tribe got around to it. I imagined they just shot the guys in the back of the head when they weren't looking, but I never really knew. And this was actually just another form of natural selection.

little terror
juvenile delinquent
snotnosed kid
whippersnapper

Modern society has built a billion, trillion, gazillion tunnels under the falls, and now, it really doesn't matter how fucking stupid you are; you're going to thrive. There are hundreds of thousands of government hand-up (hand-out) programs to help the poor, many or most of whom are poor only by choice of laziness. Programs are a great thing, to a point. But there are so many now that you really don't have to work or be intelligent at all in order to enjoy a fairly comfortable life. And the screeching left is working overtime to expand those programs, even if it bankrupts the nation. Their dream is that NO ONE will have to work. Ever. Except conservatives, of course. Because, after all, someone has to support the lazy shits. If they find a way to pay for this dream, I'm right there at the front of the line. But they won't. Period.

I ran away from home at age 14, much because I was driven, like a salmon swimming up a falls, to see the world. I just had to see it and experience it in every single way. I couldn't wait. I called in all my markers from friends, packed a bag, borrowed a blanket, and set off on foot. Age 14.

The money was gone in a few days. No one would hire a 14 year old. I was hungry in the beginning, and cold. It was the 1960's. Hippies were everywhere. Free love. Free food. Free drugs. Free sex. No one worked. Everyone traveled. Everyone shared. Everyone was kind. Everyone was happy. Fuck "the man". Of course I joined them. Who wouldn't? I had no clue who "the man" was, but he must be one truly evil son of a bitch.

I hung around Berkley a lot and although I didn't participate in the marches and demonstrations because I didn't understand the issues, I spectated a lot and learned everything I could. In about 3 years I hitch-hiked 110,000 miles or more. Never any incidents at all. I covered the country again and again and again. I traveled exactly at my whim. I could literally decide in 40 seconds time that I wanted to be in San Fransisco instead of Denver, and in 60 seconds I was on the road. Outstretched thumbs could and would take you absolutely everywhere. In cars worked for and owned by others.

I was seldom hungry after I got the hang of things, but sometimes cold. My one blanket, torn and threadbare, served me as well as it was able all those years, but sometimes, in North Dakota, or Wyoming, or Denver, it was Goddamned cold and I suffered. But that too, was all part of the adventure. I learned to favor more southerly latitudes, regions where you could sleep outside in January even, and not die, because downtown Salt Lake city in the winter, in a frozen, snow-drifted phone booth, was harsh.

I was positively driven to move, move, move, absorbing as many sights and adventures and lessons and even hardships as my busy schedule could possibly fit in. I was almost to Woodstock when some jackass in a truck stop said it was canceled. So, off to San Diego. I was hitching around north of Big Sur when I met a pretty girl who invited me to her "ranch", just down this road and up this trail a few miles. Come on! It'll be fun! I trekked behind her for an hour, but things got darker and darker in my soul, and I turned around and went back on my own. Imagine had I actually met Manson himself.

I was south of Big Sur when they caught the cannibals. I got robbed by a trembling, stuttering speed freak with a very big gun in Colorado. I rode endlessly aboard a red, white a blue hearse -- the whole western US over months.

I hooked up with a long lost uncle and ended up herding cattle for his neighbor in eastern Nevada. I liked those people.

And except for that cowboy stint I was almost always in the company of hippies. Real ones. Not the rhinestone turkeys. I wanted to be a real hippy. I was walking the walk, but not really talking the talk, as hard as I tried. I tried my very best to look up to them and they tried to teach me their way of life like it was a full-on religion. Love is good. The Man is bad. Love is good. Drugs are good. Tepees are good. Buildings are bad. It's OK to fuck the man. Stealing from The Man is good. Pigs are bad. Drugs are good. It was a constant mantra of that and little else.

But the definition of who was "the man" became ever broader. I doubt I once went into any shop or business with any group of hippies where nothing was stolen, and the girls would squeal about it endlessly....how they fucked over "The Man". That elderly couple who had built that decrepit drug and variety store in that tiny town in Utah 60 years before when they were young, and who were kind and pleasant and gave us all some candy were, of course, "The Man", and the crap the shitty, larcenous girls stuffed into their purses and raunchy panties was perfectly justified because somehow, some way, way back, somewhere, those people had been associated with the "The Man", and so they were to be hurt, stolen from, cleaned out if necessary, even ruined. Maybe even killed. I wasn't fitting into that program, now matter how much I wanted to. Logic can ruin a dream.

And what's the philosophy of the BLM rioters and arsonists today?

The definition of "The Man" became anyone who had more than you or, even, anyone who had something you wanted but couldn't buy or steal because you had no money. Because you had no job. Because you were too lazy and fucked up in the head to work at any job. So a fellow hippy with a jacket or a backpack not quite as worn as yours became "The Man", and therefor fair game. I wasn't buying the philosophy. In lieu of parents, I was having to shape my own character. That's what I learned in three years under the stars in the mid and late 1960's. You must create your own character according to principles and ideals that were built into you, whether you knew it or not, whether you liked it or not. To thine own self be true.

I learned another thing and it remains the most valuable axiom I've ever come to realize: The root of all disappointment lies in unrealistic expectation. It applies to all things, all the time, forever. It is the equation that solves the mystery and heartbreak of every moment there ever was or ever will be. Ignore it at your peril. I repeat it to myself many times per day when I need a dose of reality.

Life for hippies was incredibly easy in the early days because people thought they were, well, cute. At least they became cute after an initial period of public revulsion and some rage. They were colorful and they sang and danced a lot and they were free and non-judging and they feigned good manners and they were, by God, by GOD, going to change the world into a fundamentally far better place than the piece of shit it clearly was then. And people kinda, sorta respected that. In the beginning.

But little shop owners and home owners and car owners and innocent people walking around in every town in America and indeed nearly around the world got just a trifle weary of the theft and the laziness and the smell and the rudeness and the limp, drugged-out bodies blocking the entrances to buildings, and life started to become a bit more realistic for the hippies.

Hippies always wanted to be farmers because that was "back to the earth". It was simple, honorable, natural. Now that I've walked Pol-Pot's killing fields, it stings a little to think about farms and farming. But in any case the ultimate wet dream of most hippies was to have a farm.

Even in those days land was expensive and it was quite difficult for any single hippie to afford a piece of land big enough to do much with, so they were endlessly plotting to form little family groups who would all pitch in and buy a big plot and make it a farm and share all the work equally and life would be mutherfucking cool, man. Think of it: a commune.

I watched a million of them get planned, funded, put together, tilled, planted.....and that's about where every single one of them began to fall apart. From Mexico to northern Canada and SE Alaska, I watched communes get born, have a short life like a rumbling cumulus cloud, and fizzle and die. The reason was always the same: Ten percent did the work and ninety percent fucked off. Sooner or later, the ten percent got pissed off, and squabbles erupted more and more frequently, and the groups broke up. The 90% who wouldn't work are the 90% who wanted the commune most. I can't think of a single commune that didn't die of that same disease. In my fourth grade grade school class "Animal Farm" was required reading. It should be a law.

Hippies were lazy.

They just plain were.

As much as the Vietnam war, laziness and an aversion to discipline in any form for any reason was an impetus for the hippy movement.

And the working class, those who supported and paid for every resource the hippies selfishly consumed, finally began to realize that hippies were largely drug-addled, illogical, emotional, dishonest, dishonorable, maybe even insane, and they were no longer so cute as they once might have been.

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In the second half of the 1960's, the general public -- the working folks -- began to lose patience with hippies. In the space of five years it went from slight annoyance to all-out rank disgust and contempt. They had come full circle from the beginning of the Free Love movement.

I watched with great interest as rides became inexorably harder to flag down, free food became scarcer and scarcer, free love turned into suspicion and denial.

In Denver, once, mid-Sixties, I was standing in the snow and howling wind downtown, shivering, wondering where I might find a free hostel for the night. Behind me was a high, ornate iron fence and behind that, a huge church. A nun came out from the building, walked straight to me and stopped on her side of the fence. She had half of an apple pie with ice cream on a beautiful plate, and by turning it creatively she was able to pass it through the fence. I hadn't eaten in days, and it was the best thing I ever tasted. I gulped it as she watched, and passed back the fine china plate, and thanked her from the bottom of my heart. She smiled angelically and turned and left. What a commercial for the Catholic faith. But those days were clearly coming to a close.

I spent a lot of time in the Haight Ashbury district of San Fransisco, circa Janis Joplin's early days, but even by then the Haight was a worm beginning to turn. I'd arrive from some far off place, tired, hungry, and I could walk into the Haight and I barely passed a building without someone yelling out, asking if I needed food, or drugs, or a place to stay, or sex. Literally, in any block near the Haight, these kinds of offers would be repeated six or nine times per block. Racism was some alien concept that did not exist in conscious nor subconscious thought. THAT was a cool lifestyle. I wanted so very badly to belong in that world and to never leave it.

But by the later Sixties, we went to neighborhood markets in the Haight and hurried home in tight, furtive, fearful, scheduled and organized groups, because violence was everywhere, especially after dark. Something rough, something ugly.....had hijacked the movement and the lifestyle I wanted to belong to began to evaporate before my eyes. Mostly good was morphing into mostly bad and at the time, none of us knew why.

There was no more free apple pie. A walk through the Haight was a walk through an almost sullen silence. I swear the colors themselves were muted. Doors were closed. Black people looked, to me, a little furtive. No one looked you in the eye anymore. No one smiled. People weren't sitting out in the yards. There was no interaction -- accidental gazes were quickly averted. The place felt cold and desolate, like most other neighborhoods in the Bay area. It felt windy, even though no wind blew on the day this hit me most profoundly. The movement of peace and love was rapidly coming to an end and that was crystal clear. Violence and ugliness had usurped it all, just like BLM.

The 1960's hippy movement -- the real movement -- lasted about a decade. The Vietnam war had been one big motivator. It pulled people together in a common cause. But young people were also sick to damned death of an almost Victorian establishment that said just about everything except breathing and guzzling alcohol and fighting at the high school football game was immoral and taboo. By 1960 it was time for a change and the hippies had stepped up, only to be defeated by another reality.

The BLM movement lasted, what? A month? But already the same agents of chaos and utter stupidity that took over the Haight's mostly enviable society, have taken over BLM. Now it's just mindless thugs, violent assholes who don't even know the difference between conservative and liberal thinking, nor do they even remotely care. They are the "Party of Burn" (POB), and that is absolutely all they know. No reason needed. Just burn, baby burn. If someone comes along and connects an ideology to the Party of Burn, well, then, they guess that's OK. But they don't really care. Let's just go BURN.

George -- was that guy's name? George something? George Brown? Michael Floyd? Somebody was hit by a police car? Right? That's how people see this now. But man.....those riots....!

Think about it.

It took the violent jackasses of the world ten Goddamned years to replace, ruin and kill the hippy movement. And it took the violent, ignorant, jackasses of the world, the same mentality that killed the Haight and all places like it, only a month to take over BLM. This makes me wonder if the original BLM movement had any real heart at all.

I ultimately rejected hippies, mostly because of the dishonesty and laziness, but not the world their movement dreamed of. Who can argue with a philosophy of peace and love? No sane human could.

But by and large, they were still spoiled rotten brats, expecting the world to work for them while they sang and danced and got high and drank and -- sang and danced and smoked pot and dealt drugs and shoplifted from "the man" and --- and really not much more than that. It's the same stuff that all adolescents want. But many hippies were 60 years old. Sooner or later, ya gotta grow up.

Today's liberal movement doesn't understand the 1960's. It thinks it does, but it's clueless. I've thought about trying to sit down with groups of wannabe young hippies and to somehow get through to them and make them feel the electricity that was in the air in those days. But there's probably no point.

Today's liberal movement is like an episode of Body Snatchers (it should have been a series)(OK, OK, one season tops). The real liberals are gone, replaced by faulty clones who only read the book but never lived any part of it and, actually, never really understood the book either.

Liberal mayors believe the rioters who've taken over the BLM cause are the movement of Love and Peace from the 1960's, just using unorthodox methods to achieve it. One utterly mentally retarded mayor (Seattle Mayor Jenny Durkan) went so far as to make an even fatter fool of herself by calling the looting, arson and killing that was occurring half a mile from her office the "Summer of Love". Of course this is madness and I do intentionally mean to say clinical insanity. Summer of Love? How out of touch with any remnant of reality can you be to suggest that? Nothing could be farther from the truth. How much pot does this idiot smoke per day? How could she ever hold a job as assistant manager at 7-11 being that Goddamned embarrassingly stupid? She couldn't! I mean, literally, she couldn't hold that job! Yet she's MAYOR of a fucking large city! Indeed, every people have the government they deserve.

Today's "BLM" idiots are the same fools largely responsible for ending the spirit of the 1960's. Whatever they were, the hippies were almost never violent. Even they understood that violence turns all avenues into One-Way streets. All lead downhill. And at the bottom of that hill is Hell. And blood. Mostly their own blood. But plenty of it, also, from decent, innocent people who just want to get through life as best they can, but are prevented from doing that by spoiled rotten brats, and air headed "leaders", like Mayor Jenny Durkan.

I went back to school a little later in life, then to college. But college was too full of spoiled rotten brats. I was lucky in that my professors were actually somewhat down-to-earth, unlike the limp-wristed wastes of clothing you see today across most of the academic world. But the students were 23 year old whiners going on 11. I couldn't stomach them. Not for one microsecond did I regret dropping out. Neither do I regret going; it taught me what to avoid in life and I ultimately made a thousand times more money than any degree could have entitled me to. I learned a million times more about real life by experiencing real life than ever from any classroom. Think: "Dirty Jobs". Going to college has nearly nothing to do with earning money; rather, it is about learning to Just. Fit. In. For those who want only to fit in to the societal boilerplate, I say go for it. If you want to LIVE, and if you have any aversion at all to brainwashing, choose another path.

As we go along here, I'll occasionally provide links to cases of true American spoiled rotten brats, beginning with this one. This is a classic example of the direction the world is heading in. This mentality in America isn't a "slippery slope", it's a cliff, and the country has already jumped off of it, pushed by the growing hoards of spoiled rotten brats. The country is no longer recoverable because people this stupid now outnumber the somewhat intelligent. They can (and will) vote out good leaders (are there any, anyway?) in favor of people just as dumb and as backwards as they are. We are entering, Ladies and Germs, the "Age of The Spoiled Rotten Brat". In the 1960's the "new age" was called the "Age of Aquarius". Had a pretty and hopeful ring. But now it's the age of the stupid, foolish jackass, aka the Spoiled Rotten Brat, and it has the ring of a pond overflowing with steamy, burbling diarrhea.

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The bible suggested that someday the meek shall inherit the earth. These imbeciles are inheriting the earth now -- are they "the meek" referenced in the bible? I don't put much stock in the bible, but sometimes it says thought-provoking things. But make no mistake: the fool(s) depicted in the above link are exactly, precisely what will (will) eventually come into power in America and, like a metastasizing brain cancer, the rest of the world in time. I live abroad (America, love it or leave it), and I am seeing the global spread of insanity in almost every country I visit now. There are no longer enough people with an IQ over 100 (60?) to keep them in check. The mindless zombies have finally, to their glee, reached critical mass and the cow is tipping and cannot be put upright again. I always laughed at the types that went off and bought abandon military missile silo sites in desolate places and packed in enough food for a generation. I laughed at them and dismissed them and even derided them a little, for decades and decades. I'm no longer laughing.

I tested for intelligence quotient twice. The first time, I was in a hurry to get through it within the allotted time and I skipped a lot, and at the end I was too lazy to go back and try the harder ones again because my tiny reptilian brain was tired. I scored 141. Years later I took it again and was even more lazy from the start and wondered why I was taking it again anyway. I scored 135. A good friend scored 180 or better every time. He got bored and dropped out of Mensa. I barely understood a word he said. He died penniless. I guess IQ doesn't necessarily equate to riches. He wasn't a spoiled brat, but his wives all were.

I'm currently in a truly Third World country where the people test pretty close to America's average (about 100) but that's kind of a sliding scale. Could I have done better than 141? I don't know because I didn't try. Maybe, the fact that I wasn't smart enough to try, means I'm capped at 141 for that reason and that I don't deserve to be regarded as possibly having a higher IQ. Clearly, I don't. Certainly, a smarter person would have been intelligent enough to try. Maybe laziness is one component of stupid. What are the IQs of major leaders? None of them would ever release the true number, so stop wondering. We can speculate though, like how many digits would Joe Biden command? And Trump? Is Trump the long lost twin brother of Corky Thatcher?

Do you yanks have anyone outside of Kennedy or Reagan who can tie their own fucking shoes? Seriously -- it's a square knot. How many presidents actually know this? You can tell by looking at their feet, assuming they don't have keepers to do it for them. See a granny knot and slate them for immediate removal by any means because your life will not get better under their command and the country is in imminent peril. It's not a joke.

People talk about "good ol' horse sense". But horses aren't very smart, regardless of whether they're spoiled rotten brats or not. You can't take a horse on the trails at the Grand Canyon, for instance, because they're plenty stupid enough to jump off the cliffs, and they used to, a lot, until they were banned.

Making lots of money has almost no bearing on intelligence. Look at cute little Zuckerberg the Zit for God's sake. Or Bill Gates who is skilled only at IP theft and couldn't make a reliable OS if his life depended on it. Clever, maybe. Wise? Not even close.

Are spoiled rotten brats intelligent? Some are, some aren't. I see not a lot of correlation between being spoiled and smart. Sometimes a really, really smart person can eventually realize that he's a spoiled rotten piece of shit, and his intelligence will spur him to change. But that's usually a life-long endeavor, and it's as rare as a unicorn with a penis as a horn. Sorry.


Spoiled Brat

I was a commercial diver for a couple of lifetimes, a couple of lifetimes ago. There was a diver on a competing boat who was smart enough to buy one of the very first decompression computers ever made. They weren't really computers back then -- could have been made by cavemen with higher IQs. They operated much like a thermometer -- a needle on a spring. But anyway, it had a dial with green, yellow and red bands, and a needle which was supposed to tell you to decompress before surfacing, or not, or to consult the written tables because the gauge wasn't sure what you should do. If you surfaced in the yellow, chances were high you'd get "the bends" and maybe never recover fully, or at all, even after immediate hospitalization. If you surfaced in the red, you were already dead, just waiting for the involuntary convulsions to stop.

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This turkey (we called him Frankenberry) was a huge brute of a man, strong as five Russians named Olga, and every single day he came up for lunch with the rest of us and his "computer" was pegged into the red. Not just "somewhere in the red"; it was pegged to the little pin-stop. He had a habit of starting his day performing tasks at the shallowest depths and then progressing to the deepest depths where chores were to be done and then surfacing straight away because he was hungry.

We'd point out the needle quivering against the little brass stop at the end of the red zone, which really meant he probably had minutes to live, and he'd knock it against something hard and when it didn't budge, he continued eating, mumbling something about money wasted, refunds, like that. I have lots of stories about Frankenberry. Was he a spoiled rotten brat? No, he was a humble man who almost never caused anyone grief. He was just stupid.

I had a friend named Frank (real name) who lived out in the high desert at 8500 feet msl (a kind of desert with scattered trees and temps of minus 59f in some winters), had a little money, and was a dyed-in-the-wool tinkerer. He created a Flintstones-looking giant dish once that was embedded with what appeared to be about fifty three million beauty mirrors, all planted in the three-feet-thick, fifteen foot diameter concrete at exactly the right angles so that when they reflected the sun, they all converged on a certain point about thirty feet from the face of the dish. His intelligence was revealed to be capped, however, when he was unable to create any kind of device that would automatically track the sun for him, because his mission had been to collect the heat produced by this dish and somehow use it to power his home.

One day his wife pulled her car into the driveway and parked and got out and was horrified by a cloud of smoke hovering on the driver's side of the car. She'd driven through the beam and roasted that sedan. Lucky the beam wasn't six inches higher, although I always did sort of wonder---

Frank got the idea back in about 1985 that the world could conceivably end soon, with crazed BLM terrorist types marauding through the streets and countrysides, murdering goats and people and pigs for no known reason. So he decided to dig out a huge shelter under his home where he could hide in times of distress. He did this by hand because he was the toughest Pole on earth, and he got the idea that if his neighbors, the closest being about 100 yards away through Pinion Pines, ever got the idea about what he was doing, then, well, when the apocalypse finally came, they'd be beating his door down to get in. So this project had to be strictly secret.

He dug down and down and down until I swear the earth was warmer -- he had been a miner by trade, escaped the prison camps in Germany, and really was that tough -- and then he pulled all the dirt up to his original floor level and dumped it into a wheelbarrow. --Secret enough so far.

I have to tell a short story about Frank here as an aside: On his first day in the old Soviet mines as a teenager, his boss took him to the edge of a bottomless hole, and leading down through the center of that hole was a single steel cable, about 2 inches in diameter. Frank got the idea they were waiting for the lift so as to descend into some hellish place and go to work. His boss didn't stop walking and simply jumped into the blackness, catching the cable with his bare hands. Frank thought he had tripped and would soon lose his grip and fall to his death -- he went down to his stomach and started yelling for the man to try to grasp his outstretched hand. The man hand-over-handed down a fathom or so and stopped, and asked Frank what he was waiting for. No time to wait for the lift. Frank was aghast, but he needed the job desperately, and if his boss was still alive, he reasoned he could do it and live too. So he jumped. And caught the cable. And they lowered themselves a few hundred feet to another level and swung themselves onto the floor of that level, and simply went to work without further discussion. Frank said that was the routine every day for years. The depth of the shaft might be five hundred feet. It might be two thousand feet. It didn't matter because if it was deeper than 25 feet you were dead anyway. The cable was three or four feet away and that's all that mattered.

 

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