Are your children Spoiled Brats?

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This editorial web page contains and includes my opinions, suspicions, hunches, best recollections, etc.
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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?

 

 

Are Canadians spoiled?

Here's my story:

I lived in Canada for many years, starting in the 1960's.

Compared to the USA, it was heaven.

There was SPACE.

People had MANNERS.

The men were, by and large, men's men.

Women were STRONG and down to earth and capable.

The government CARED.

The police were POLITE, NO-BS PROFESSIONALS.

The people were just.....a tad on the whiny and effeminate side. But it was barely objectionable.

I lived in Vancouver and all points north to Alaska. I interacted with Canucks of all stratas. It was exceedingly rare that I met a Canadian I didn't like.

I was deported for overstaying a VISA. Even through that horrific experience, I never lost respect for the Canadian government. I did, however, lose respect for my cell mates prior to deportation.

I returned only decades later to find a perplexing situation:

There was a long-standing dispute over some salmon runs, up near the Canada Alaska border, just north of Prince Rupert. It wasn't a legal dispute -- it was long-decided in the courts. But the Canadians couldn't emotionally accept the decision (US Democrats, anyone?).

Finally, the Canadian commercial salmon fishermen had had enough. They came to a point where they suspected that some salmon that had been caught in the "disputed" area, by Yanks, was loaded on one or more trucks on a huge ship/ferry that was about to depart Prince Rupert with thousands of innocent people on board -- people who needed to get to their jobs, people who needed to meet connecting transportation at their destinations, people hauling perishable goods, none of whom had the slightest idea that "disputed" salmon was aboard the ship, nor did they care.

So the Canadian commercial fishermen blockaded the harbor and prevented the ferry from departing.

Talk about spoiled rotten brats.

Had they pulled this brainless shenanigan for a few hours, people might have been willing to forgive -- not forget, but after they'd served a few months in jail, maybe people affected by this rank Goddamned tempter tantrum might have forgiven.

But these embarrassingly spoiled brats held these people hostage (hostage -- not a misprint) for THREE MISERABLE DAYS. Count out the hours on your hands. Sitting there. Kids bored to tears. People needing medications. No place to sleep or even lie down comfortably. The available food was, well, ferry food! A few hours on a ferry when it's moving is somewhat hellish after you've done it 342,000 times. But three days? Three days and nights!? Give me a break.

In my book, this is kidnapping -- at the very, very least it's unlawful imprisonment. I'd sent a jackass to jail for five years for that in the US for illegally holding TWO people for 40 minutes.

These stupid wastes of flesh were eventually prosecuted for cutsie little things, slapped and mostly sent home.

That showed me, painfully, sadly, that Canucks had changed. They had grossly devolved. My occupation in Canada for several years had been as a commercial salmon fisherman in that region. Those were MY PEOPLE. Except they weren't. Not anymore. This was a new breed of shitty little spoiled-brat punks. And the government that slapped them daintily was NOT the same government I'd known way back when.

I was in Canada for several months around that time, moving up and down the waterways from Vancouver to Juneau. I found that that same ugly, putrid demeanor had permeated the entire country. I had numerous ugly confrontations with spoiled fucking brats. I found Canadians to be rude and now quite effeminate, a bit helpless, confrontational, inept, unprofessional and mostly unpalatable. It had been my dream to go back for that visit. It left me with disgust and sadness. I never went back again. I had taken my young son on that trip; now, as a grown man, he vows to never go back either. He couldn't understand what I had ever seen in those people. He said he had never seen such a sad collection of spoiled brats. I could only try to explain to him that the good people I'd known, were gone forever.

Conclusion: Canada is now the Land of Spoiled Brats (LSB).

Not every single person.

But way too many.

I am directly descended from a man -- a burly Scotsman -- who lived in a wee village hundreds of years ago, which was hounded and tormented by a supremely corrupt sheriff. This sheriff raped just about every female thereabouts, and jailed those who objected, and he did it with impunity for a decade or two. I know this history in minute detail -- my family still maintains a castle there. OK, OK, not a "great" castle, but certainly a castle, made of real stone -- not some damned plywood thing that's passed off as a "renovated" castle these days. My Great Great Great Great (however many Greats) Grandfather took exception to the wanton raping, as well he should, and he and his buds formed a pact to make friends with the sheriff. They were successful, and they took him hunting, during which time there was an accident. No, I won't play that game -- there was an occurrence. There was a premeditated, willful event that transpired within the group, perpetrated by the group, orchestrated and led by my ancestor. The sheriff was boiled down and all agreed the soup was delicious.

I am immensely proud of this heritage. A spoiled brat was dispatched. One less rapist upon the earth. It was honest work and I've no doubt they all slept well -- not to mention the women of the village -- after that. I would have.

This was my real hero.

My make-believe hero is Cyrano De Bergerac (Jose Ferrier version, please).

And Popeye, though even as a little kid I wondered what he saw in Oliveoil.

My relative continued his normal life in the village, and a warrant was issued for his arrest, and he still continued his normal life in the village, and finally, in his old age, the warrant was officially rescinded. I carry a tattoo of his, and my, family crest.

As a young man I roamed Canada, like Young Fool -- er, I mean, Kung Fu, and one night found myself obtaining permission to sleep in a stall in an old barn collectively owned by a small village, far and vastly out in the Canadian bush outside of Prince Rupert. Unknown to me at the time was another young man and a girl, also staying in the barn in other, separate rooms.

In the morning some locals came into my stall early and informed me that the girl's money had been stolen in the night. I was aghast, and, realizing the implications, demanded that these locals search me and all my belongings for any sign of the loot. It totaled around six dollars, she'd said. I had about eight cents and some jerky.

I didn't have the money -- I was well known to these people anyway to be honest, and the girl didn't have the money, and clearly she was telling the truth, so that left one suspect.

The guy was searched and found to be carrying the exact amount she was missing. He denied doing it, but he was clearly lying, irrespective of the exact amount being found on his person. Everybody was told not to "leave town".

In the early evening I was fed and asked to appear in the main room of that same old barn. I arrived to find it lit dimly with kerosene lamps and lanterns with a hearty fire in a huge pot-belly stove, and every single person from miles around, standing in a semi-circle in the gloom, facing the young man. There might have been sixty people, counting children. It was a positively ghoulish scene. I had never seen anything like this.

He was asked again and again and again if he stole the money. He faltered and trembled and stuttered and initially refused to answer at all, but finally squeaked out "no" a few times, then everyone was silent.

Some farmer girls had been busy with something in back darker areas and they then moved up into the light, carrying some things. I couldn't see exactly what. One of the locals said clearly, to the man, we find you guilty, and the girls moved in on him. I was horrified; I thought they were going to hang him or cut his throat or both.

His clothing was stripped off and he was slathered with hot tar -- every square inch -- not hot enough to burn and leave scars, but hot enough. And a few pillows were sacrificed and the feathers were dumped over him until no place remained uncoated. It was, at that point in my life, the God-damnedest thing I had ever seen, though it pales in comparison to things I've now witnessed in SE Asia.

He was told to start walking, out into the darkness, and don't ever, ever come back. We were 450 miles from any road -- travel was by boat or by bear trails.

The next nearest village was, as I recall, about 35 miles away. I never thought he'd make it because of the bears. But years later (I'm sometimes slow) I realized that no self-respecting bear or lion or alien would have touched him due to the stench.

I think it was a year or two later I was in that distant village and I ran across the guy -- maybe it was only months because I remember seeing spots where no hair had regrown. Or maybe hair WOULD NEVER regrow there.

He had a small family and was working and apparently well accepted into that village. He said the tar and feathering was the best thing that ever happened to him. He said it was a master reset to his character, and he'd since screwed his head on straight, and all was well in his world. I believed it.

I wonder what he told the villagers where he first arrived, which would have been well into the morning of the next day. It was only above freezing but down is the perfect insulation. Plenty of water to drink along the way. He'd arrived with no clothing because my village kept it all. It must have been a perfectly ghastly sight.

That's an example of a spoiled brat being "reeducated". It's the only such example I know of. I hope he didn't someday relapse and become a thieving asshole again. I never saw him after that.

As far as I knew, no one in "my" village ever spoke of it again while I was in that region. But I wonder if, as they aged, they told the story to their grandkids in front of the fire, wind and rain whipping at the cedar shakes on the roof, in low and somber tones of voice, letting each scene sink in slowly and take root. I hope so.

And this just in: Meghan Markle says she wants to run for president of the United States of America. Now I ask you, what's the title of this website?

Are there times when spoiled brats, like scum in a restaurant's grease trap, come bubbling to the surface? Sure. Spoiled brats are spoiled brats are spoiled brats, but sometimes they're difficult to identify because, like psychopaths, they've learned through experience when to shut up. Serial killers don't waltz into department stores and start butchering women during open hours -- not because they don't want to, but because they've surmised and calculated (calculated, as a snake calculates its most promising approach) that someone will most likely kill them on the spot if they aren't very, very careful. They didn't learn that doing psychotic, anti-social things was "bad" for any particular logical reason, but they learned that the consequences of openly being a sociological shit were sometimes worse than the little ego kicks they got from being trolls. So they shut up. Temporarily. And they learned to mask the behaviors they all wanted to act out, but were afraid to, at least temporarily. However they yearned for events and circumstances that allowed them to really cut loose and speak their true minds, and Trump's misfortune is one of those circumstances. Just wait for it.

Actually, world circumstances which bring the grease to bubble at the top are good, because they shine light onto the true, award-winning plumps of human garbage so we can all see them much more clearly and avoid them like the plague that they are.

An hour before this writing we are informed that President Trump and First Lady are both confirmed to be positive for Coronavirus Covid-19. Hope Hicks was tested first to be positive, but that doesn't mean she was first to have it. She was by all accounts tediously careful with social distancing and masking, hand washing, etc., but she still contracted it. Trump was notoriously silly about taking precautions -- to his detriment.

The thing is this:

Within minutes the Screeching Lefty Trolls (spoiled rotten brats) were out, typing just as fast as their little turkey-claws could peck, absolutely giddy with this news, praying Trump will die, praying his wife will die, praying his children, friends and associates will die, praying kids he played with in 3rd grade will die, praying anyone who ever voted for him, or watched his Reality TV show or served him a hamburger will DIE. And it's only been minutes. Give it 72 hours, then scan the headlines. The spoiled brats of the world on the Liberal side will be exposed brightly and clearly for all the world to see. Spoiled brats can't help it. This is their field day. This is, they feel, their reward for being born. This is when they feel completely free to act out, speak out, take their clothes off, and show us the ugly side of their characters that have always been there, working more or less quietly behind the scenes to cause mayhem, dissent and grief. Now we'll all be able to see who we should have avoided and whom to avoid in all future interactions. Liberals feel the force field of common decency has been powered down, and now's their chance to show humanity the actual insides of their anuses -- which they wholeheartedly believe to be...beautiful.

Can you even begin to imagine how the Fools on the View will act? They make unmitigated asses of themselves on their very best days, every day. I have it on good authority that each and every one of those clueless spoiled brats had monumental orgasms when they heard the news, and are still a little shakey 10 hours later. Indeed, you can put lipstick on a sow and call it Monique, but a pig is still a pig -- JOY. Their fucking pet dogs gag at the sight of them for Christ's sake. They can't wait to show us all just how stupid they really are, and I welcome it, because it teaches us all -- it teaches us what to avoid.

It's like in a sci-fi movie, where someone invents a flashlight that will show the insides, the green guts of the aliens, while when shined on a regular human, it shows only a regular human. Trump's test result is that flashlight. Pay attention closely over the next month. You'll learn who your friends really are, and you'll learn whom to protect your children from.

Have you ever seen a million earthworms come writhing up from soft ground during a big rain? That's what you're about to see, in the behavior of the Democrats.

The reader may glean the idea that I have a negative view of the Liberal side of politics in America.

No.

I do NOT have a dim view of American Liberals. I have a dim view of all liberals; I wasn't born with it; they taught it to me a hundred million times over, no matter how badly I wanted to be "with" them. Every country I've ever lived in has been plagued by a version, a rendition of airy liberalism. In each and every case, all around the world, in every single country, I've found that movement to be lazy, stupid (but insanely clever at the business of deviancy), amoral, immoral, dishonest, sneaky, clueless, borderline psychotic, illogical, irrational, terminally emotional, unrealistic, anti-social, impractical, incapable, hapless, helpless, whiny, and nearly completely worthless to any society. I say "nearly" worthless, because all beings have ideas, and virtually all of them need to be listened to, considered, and evaluated calmly and rationally, and adopted or ignored. It just so happens that 99.99999% of Liberal ideas are as crazy, or even more so, than The Green New Deal. I listen to every idea, and if it's crazy, I dismiss it. If it makes sense through empirical logic, I embrace it. Unfortunately, nearly every liberal idea is down there circlin' the drain with clinical insanity.

Let's talk about the victims of violent crime.

We know that the perpetrators of violent crime are, without exception, spoiled fucking brats. They're much more than spoiled brats, but they are least spoiled brats. To them, the victim is either something to be used, or something in the way.

But let's first define what real violent crime really is and who's the brat in the equation.

Example:

You hear a noise in your eight year daughter's room at 3 am. You investigate. There's a 39 year old peodphile in the process of raping your daughter. You beat him, kill him, dismember him, make a soup of his bones, and enjoy it.

Is your punishment a crime?

The law says it is.

But the law is often just plain wrong; after all, it's largely written by liberals, and other academics who've almost never experienced one moment of real life.

Still, the law is the law, and if you do this, chances are you'll be punished far and vastly more severely than the man raping your eight year old daughter in her own room in her own bed in the middle of the night. That's just how today's law seems to work. Watch the old sans dialogue movie "One Million Years BC", with, oddly enough, Raquel Welch, to glean a perspective on how liberals write laws.

Are you a spoiled rotten brat for doing what you did to the rapist? Pragmatically, you are a person deeply committed to the safety and well being of society. You've almost certainly saved countless young girls from the same grisly fate, or worse, whereas the law would have coddled them and allowed them to reoffend in time, maybe in short time. No, you're not a brat at all. You're a protector, and also a kind human soul because you didn't torture the piece of shit for forty five days before mercilessly beheading him.

Maybe you're a vigilante, but that's not automatically a bad thing. Putting a criminal in jail or executing him/her through "the process" is also a form of vigilantism, but it's done with the blessing of a group of other vigilantes (cops, courts, judges and jurors), so it has a bit more credibility. Unfortunately, cops, courts, judges and jurors make so many mistakes and punish (or kill) so many innocent people that it's a blurry, murky line between one intelligent person meting out punishment, opposed to a whole gaggle of stupid fools meting out "justice".

Example:

You come home early from work and find your wife having passionate sex with the neighbor guy. You beat him, behead him, de-dick him, make him eat his own testicles (etc. etc. ad nauseam). Are you a spoiled rotten brat? Of course you are, because there were no victims in this scenario. Your wife was not being victimized; the neighbor wasn't being victimized. They were performing an act they both agreed upon. YOU are the only one ticked off. YOU are the brat.

Your proper course of action is to simply, honorably, quietly, disown them both. The neighbor goes home and never so much as glances in your direction again. The wife can go with him if she chooses, and she never so much as glances in your direction again, but have her out within 60 seconds regardless of where she chooses to go. Done deal.

Those are the actions of a thinking, responsible human. Maybe the wife was a brat. Maybe the neighbor was a brat. But you weren't. Good job. Unless you punished him or her.

Your eight year old daughter was a victim. Your wife wasn't.

See the difference?

The USA has reams and mountains of rapists. India has more. I don't really understand the direction east Indian culture has gone -- I used to like east Indians quite a lot and I still have some east Indian friends, because east India and Bangladesh aren't far from me. But those guys, the rapists among that population, might be the most prolific and unrepentant rapists on this earth. They're really, really bad.

I stopped kidnapping of a girl once and put my life (and freedom) on the line to do it. The girl was 14 and clueless about men and life, so she was excused for putting herself in the position of being kidnapped. She later woke up and bought a gun and learned how to use it. The odds of her having to be saved from rapist-kidnappers then fell to nearly zero.

I used to know a geologist who lived in the badlands of an American state with two young daughters. At age 14 he armed them. I thought that was too young. But he didn't. He was their father. And a retired cop.

Lots of guys (and girls) put their lives (and freedoms) on the line to save other humans from terrible spoiled brat rapists, killers, thieves, bullies, scammers, drunks, druggies, purse snatchers, you name it. Cops are supposed to do this job, and some try, but they're so hamstrung by liberal governments anymore that they're barely effective, and so, so, SO many cops are bad now anyway. You're really on your own.

The world society sort of has this idea that women, and people in general, have a right to walk around the earth and not be molested, bothered, assaulted, stolen from, etc. But there are plenty of people who don't respect that right. So...you think you have that right, and you do have that right, so you go out and take advantage of that right, and someone comes along and abuses that right, and you're a victim, and that's terrible.

What did you do to prepare for that eventuality? I didn't ask what you did to prepare for that possibility. I asked what you did to prepare for that certainty.

Then, WHEN it happened, what did you do to stop it?

I was waiting for a shipment in a gun store in downtown Seattle about six lifetimes ago -- First or Second Avenue, I forget. It's out of business now; it was next door to a big sporting goods store that's also out of business now. They're both out of business because they sold guns, and embarrassingly-liberal Seattleites just couldn't tolerate THAT.

I'd driven around 100 miles on a motorcycle in the rain to meet and accept this shipment, but it turned out the shipment was about four and a half hours late, so I had a lot of time to kill and I spent most of it moping around that gun store, pestering the sales people who KNEW they weren't going to sell me anything more. But they were professionals and they tolerated me.

I began to notice that female after female after female came in out of the rain, shook the drops off their umbrellas, and then presented the salesperson with almost the identical story each and every time, and it went about like this:

"Oh. Hi. Uh, I don't know why I'm here (giggle). I really don't like guns. I've never owned a gun. Heck, I've never touched a gun." And they'd shyly and daintily begin perusing the glass counters, arms held primly, tightly to their sides, slightly toward their backs. "But, you know, I was raped _______ times in the last five years (or robbed, beat up, fill in the blank), AND I'M PRETTY FUCKING ANGRY. HOW MUCH IS THAT BIG ONE, THERE!?"

Then the conversation would begin -- what exactly do you need it for, will you be taking a safety class before you buy it, etc. etc. It's all to help them choose the machine (and yes, guns are merely machines for Christ's sake, not otherworldly magic living demons) that best fits them, whether revolver, single-action, double-action, semi-auto, single shot, etc.

During that 4.5 + hours on that rainy afternoon I probably watched this play out sixty or more times, and as many as 50 guns were sold then and there. Some ladies bought two. Those ladies had decided to stop being spoiled rotten brats.

Huh? WTF? Stop being what?

Let's say a person goes into a bank and withdraws a large sum, and walks out, but unbeknownst to them some low life hunk of rotting Antifa or Fake BLM flesh has noticed this and falls into step behind them, just waiting for the best chance to hit them on the head and take the money. It happens, what, about forty eight million times per day now?

But as the crook bonks the person (let's say it was a woman, because crooks like women more), the woman doesn't go down right away and a struggle ensues. The lady is unarmed and, ultimately, doesn't stand a chance.

Enter, stage right, the hero. He or she sees this shit and decides it's not going to go down in the crook's favor, and so intercedes. The crook pulls a knife or a gun. The hero is wounded badly, maybe crippled for life, or killed. Maybe the crook gets away or maybe not -- maybe the hero kills him before he goes down -- it doesn't matter for the purpose of this analysis.

What matters is that the victim, the lady with a purse full of cash, has refused to take responsibility for her own safety. She has, instead, willfully left that responsibility to others -- who WILL, she assumes, if they're decent, responsible citizens of the earth, do their level best to stop the bullshit if they see it. And they get hurt, or crippled, or killed, and the victim feels oh so terrible. Or maybe the hero saves the day and is unscathed -- it doesn't matter because they took that chance on the behalf of the spoiled brat would-be victim.

Well, fuck the victim. She's a spoiled rotten brat.

She has willfully refused to take responsibility for her own space upon this earth, and has therefore relegated her safety to innocent passersby who WILL (decent humans can't help it) try to assist her. America (except for San Fransisco and New York) is genetically like that. Canada, at least the Canada I USED to know and USED to love, was much more like that.

It's like the housewife who takes the car on a dark and stormy night (remember Snoopy?) to go see friends or whatever the hell, and the car has a flat, and she's out of cell range, and she never bothered to learn the simple art of changing a flat tire, and all the kids ultimately freeze to death in the car as a big Nor'easter moves in and temperatures plummet. It actually happens, along with a billion other things equally as sad.

Is the soccer mom a spoiled brat? Yes.

I am tempted to never help any adult, anymore, who should have been prepared for the contingencies of real life, but wasn't. They'd rather YOU risk YOUR life, and time, and sanity, to bail THEM out of THEIR OWN self-created predicaments. Because they're lazy spoiled brats.

This is a Goddamned violent world. Nobody wants to face it. So....become a victim with my blessing. But first, put on a shirt that reads this and is clearly legible: "IF I AM IN TROUBLE OR BEING ATTACKED DO NOT HELP ME BECAUSE I CHOSE NOT TO HELP MYSELF."

If I see that shirt, you get a curt salute, a polite "carry on", and I'm merrily on my way, and lots of luck to ya. But if you DON'T wear that shirt (or carry a big sign), and I am morally, duty-bound to be the contributing member of society that I strive to be, and I help you -- even if nothing bad happens to me as a result, I'm going to chew your ass out royally for FORCING me into that position of risk. Because you, YOU, were too motherfucking SPOILED to FIRST try to protect YOURSELF. You forced ME to do it. Thanks for your arrogance.

If a rapist (or three) comes for you, and the blade of your knife breaks off in between one's ribs, or your shots (23, I hope) all fail, embedded in their bullet proof vests, and I then must come and bail you out with a couple of head shots to the pieces of shit, then, I won't berate you as a helpless spoiled brat, because you're not. You're a reasonable human being who took reasonable precautions and just got unlucky and REQUIRED and were DESERVING of assistance.

Slather your naked body in honey and then go stroll through a forest teeming with nasty, punkish little springtime black bears. But take no precautions. Then ask me to help you when one bites your leg off and goes for the arm. And face. I won't.

I am really very, very tired of hearing ladies, or limp-wristed guys for that matter, wring their hands and moan and lament about some bad thing that happened to them and there was "nothing they could do" until some nice person came along and capped the bad guy. Fuck you if that's you. Take responsibility FOR YOURSELF and do the best you can to keep from requiring others to risk their lives, health and freedom, in order to overcome the shortcomings of your tiny, smoking, Briggs and Stratton brain.

All those three or four million Khmers in Cambodia weren't spoiled rotten brats, because they had no access to weapons of self defense of almost any kind. So Pol pot killed them with sharp blades of grass. But you're not a pre-Pol-pot Khmer living in Cambodia in the 1970's.

In southern Cambodia I used to carry a regular brick in my back pocket every place I went. Some people carry golf clubs, baseball bats, etc., because throughout SE Asia guns are very difficult to come by, by all except citizens. I carried that brick everywhere and never noticed an untoward glance in my direction by locals. Then someone stole it.

If you're not taking steps to protect yourself from the growing number of violent, amoral, mentally handicapped pukes in the world, hatched, encouraged and cheered on almost exclusively by liberals, then it's time to grow the fuck up and stop putting the lives and freedoms of others at stake, merely because you're lazy, clueless and spoiled. It's really, honestly, pretty nauseating. Just how irresponsible are you, anyway?

Since I spent some younger, foolish years trying to learn how to become a hippy -- that is to say, how to abandon my bred-in sense of morality enough to become a hippy, let's talk about them again, and how helplessness and cluelessness can mean you're also a spoiled rotten brat.

There was a commune, in Canada, several eons ago. A hippy commune. It was a failed commune before it ever got started; that is to say it never produced a Goddamned fucking thing. It started out pretty much right off the bat as a place for hippies to go and get high and fuck each other a lot. Anywhere. At anytime. All the time. Because, of course, the human body is "natural". Well, yes it is, but during the communal evening meal? This is one juncture where my innate sense of morality began to split from "The Hippy Way". Actually, it was kind of erotic and amusing -- the grunting, the kids trying to see what was really going on and for God's sake WHY, the big bowls of natural salad and berries and fruits tumbling around, and the thirty or so people in the room simply looking on, still eating with their hands (because silverware wasn't natural), trying to act as though nothing unnatural was occurring. Ok, well, again, no, it's not un-natural at all. But neither is shitting, and "I", thanks, don't want to watch ANYONE naturally do THAT.

Life was supposed to be natural, because, of course, if everything you ate and everything you did was natural, what could possibly go wrong?

Nettles are natural. Why not sleep on a bed of them?

Rotten meat is natural. Right? Sure it is. So you ought to be able to eat it. Right? Because it's natural. Assuming, of course, you even eat meat. Which you shouldn't. But if you choose to, which was truly an unnatural thing to do, well, rotten meat is as natural as, say, rain. That was the hippy credo at that time in that region. Maybe it still is. Who knows.

The hippies in this particular commune started getting sick. The commune was far out in the bush, not connected to anywhere by roads -- boat only. They saw a smattering of boat traffic come through, en route to other far off destinations, and anchor in their bay for a night or two waiting out inclement weather, which was the only protected bay for many miles of nasty, stormy water. I anchored in there about half the time when I was trying to get from my cabin, which was very much farther north, to the one-building "town" to get supplies, far to the south. I was one of the few people who went ashore and mingled with the group. Most travelers were much too entrenched in "society" to feel as though they could fit in with those people and they were absolutely correct. Hell, I barely could. Each visit was a trip right to the rim of the Twilight Zone, gazing into a great hulking maw of what truly might have been the abyss of insanity.

There are many things that'll make you sick in "the bush", not the least of which is a nasty little parasite called Giardia, aka Beaver Fever. I've no idea where the Beaver Fever thing came from -- maybe the bug really did come from beavers.

In any case, the sicknesses continued and persisted for a month or so and people were getting tired of non-stop diarrhea and vomiting, both of which were inconvenient for spontaneous, natural sex on the floor of the main eating hut.

They checked their filthy food stores and all seemed well enough -- not any more filthy than usual. Filthy isn't really a problem as long as it's natural filth. Axle grease, of course, isn't natural, so it's a bad thing. But rotten vegetable matter, rat piss, insects, worms, dead mice, mold, were all natural, so they couldn't possibly be bad for you, and all things like that were tolerated.

Anyway, after a good deal of time, finding no obvious culprit to be making all the hippies sick, they finally got around to inspecting the communal water source, which was a natural (there's that word again) spring, very high up on a bluff, which was somewhat inconvenient to climb up to. But they did it. And they peered down into the depths of the little pool, and by golly, there was something dead down there, just out of reach! A critter, by Jim! Dead as a doornail and with rotten pieces falling off it, tufts of hair swirling around. Remember the visual. It was enough to gag a maggot.

But it was a natural animal, having fallen into and drowned, presumably, in a natural spring, and so, well, what the heck -- all was natural, and so not really a threat to anyone or anything. Some doubted it was the rotting critter making everyone sick. Others thought maybe it was, but weren't worried about it because, after all, IT WAS NATURAL.

So they left it and trundled barefoot (because shoes were not natural) down the long hill to their cabins and kept right on drinking that water.

But of course they all got sicker and sicker until some brainiac who hadn't fully bought into the philosophy finally climbed back up the little mountain and fished the remains and pieces of the DEAD BEAVER out of the water supply, and within a week everyone was feeling much better.

I concluded that hippies, and liberals, which are one and the same, were spoiled, stupid brats.

As I said these hippies produced almost nothing in their commune, because they were fucking lazy. They ate a lot of seaweed, actually, which, even though you might think I'm bashing it, can be rather tasty if done right. They made pathetic stabs at gardens and "crops" but all failed utterly. Even if they got anything to grow all the deer and creatures came and ransacked their plants -- fences weren't natural -- so they almost never got to eat a Goddamned thing they produced. Instead they foraged a lot for "natural" foods, much of which was abjectly disgusting and could barely, if at all, sustain a human body.

But they'd been fortunate in that decades before they ever came along -- maybe even a hundred years -- the original Swedish Homesteaders had planted and developed a stunningly gorgeous apple orchard, up on the bluff, not far from the Beaver Spring. So, in season, the hippies ate untold quantities of apples. Green. Ripe. Rotting. It didn't matter. Because natural was natural.

But there was a fly in this ointment. I called him Alex but the name never stuck. Maybe because it wasn't considered natural to name an animal.

Anyway Alex loved apples as much or more than the hippies did and, being a black bear, he could consume quantities that were absolutely staggering. You'd never think it was possible.

There were plenty of bears around, but for some reason only Alex ever raided that unkempt orchard. Maybe he'd kept it a secret from the other bears but that's doubtful. Maybe Alex was the dominant bear and simply kicked the asses of any other bears that made it up to the knoll near the Beaver Spring. It didn't matter -- Alex was the problem, and he was a really big problem because he just seemed to eat more and more and more and more until the hippies weren't getting what they felt was their due.

It was a full time job to keep everyone fed. Everyone contributed what they had which was often simply weeds from just outside the door of the structure, which was where they peed and shat too, because that was the natural order of things. The apples from the orchard were important; they needed all they could get.

The hippies put up with Alex because it was the natural order of things, and indeed it was, but they didn’t stop to consider their own right to survive, which was also the natural order of things. Hippies, and liberals, eternally struggle with the concept of logical priorities. But this bunch finally got tired of the bear and after weeks of meetings and hand wringing and more meetings and crying and acting out by some of the girls, decided to kill it.

Guns had been expressly forbidden in the commune, but of course someone had one squirreled away – gun-hating liberals always do -- so they procured that and loaded it with five rounds of .22 shorts, which was all they had. And they stalked the bear who just fucking stood there and looked at them as they walked up.

And after more wringing of hands they shot it. And it blinked, and must have thought, Wow, the mosquitoes are big this year because a .22 short round is really just an irritation to a big, summer-fattened bear.

So they shot it again. And again, and after awhile it started getting ticked off, maybe more at the noise than the stings, and it started going after them.

It treed a few hippies, but one of the guys in the tree had the gun and kept shooting it, now square in the face, and maybe he inadvertently hit an eye or something because the bear started screaming and flopping around on the ground.

They thought it was dying.

But an hour later it was still screaming and flopping, so they started shooting it some more with no particular thought to shot placement because, of course, being liberals, they had NOT thought this through.

Three hours and 150 plus bullets, and it succumbed. They decided not to eat it because that wasn’t the natural order of things (a thread of logic I never grasped), but at least now they had more apples. For awhile. Because shortly after Alex's death, a whole herd of bears moved in and decimated the orchard forever.

They threw the corpse into the sea, but later fished it out and skinned it and hung it in a boat shed for a couple of months. Not knowing how to properly treat the hide it rotted and was thrown back into the sea, and it floated in and out of the bay for weeks on the tides, because absolutely nothing would eat it by then, and it was sometimes mistaken for a drowned person by passing yachts.

I thought it was positively grisly. I mean, not “a Grizzly”. But grisly as in revolting.

If you passed someone on the trail around that camp, and they were fucking, it was perfectly OK to stop and watch and talk, and join or take turns, because that was frowned on in regular society and if something was frowned upon in regular society then it was automatically to be embraced and allowed in the commune because that was, after all, the very purpose of the counter-culture. To be counter. BLM, anyone? Antifa, anyone? Liberalism in general, anyone? These were the actual roots of the utterly insane brand of liberalism you see today across America (2020). This is where it all took seed.

Guys and gals alike could carry on regular conversations between orgasms, at least in between thrusts and grunts. I wondered how they got to this point. Were they more evolved than me, or less? I’ve now experienced half the cultures in the world, and I still don’t know. They ran naked most of the summer in sweltering 60f temps. This brought the imbecilic tourists from the lower forty eight, who would anchor just off their beach and gawk, like flies to feces.

Sometimes the girls paddled out and fucked the guys and got money and trinkets. It’s the natural order of things, right?

Maybe a year after Alex was tortured to death, I remember we got a message in a roundabout way, asking if we could come to the commune because a girl wanted to go to town. No boats were around to accommodate her.

We got there a day or two later and found a girl of about 16, strapped to a cot in a shed. They explained she was having "some problems" and it was best if we just take her to town and drop her off.

In reality, she was wild as a rabid coon. Possessed. Gnashing her teeth and jerking at the restraints. Straight out of an exorcist movie. Take this girl to town? She was half crazy. She'd found and eaten an old box of rat poison, probably hoping to get high, or maybe hoping to escape. Then she went the rest of the way crazy. Now she was, to the commune, a liability to be discarded.

We eventually agreed to take her to the little village town, and to help her get a ride to the hospital in the real town. At this news she calmed down a little. There was a shred of intelligence left behind those glowing red rat eyes. We got her aboard the Northern Slut (our boat, aptly named because she sunk regularly) and headed off. She seemed more or less calm – at least manageable, though silent, which was vexing. But halfway there she jumped overboard. Didn’t say a word, just jumped into the freezing north sea and started paddling away to the blank horizon.

We spun around and we got her picked up and back in the boat – she only struggled a little – the freezing water was our ally -- and made it to town, where we found some sane people who agreed to take her to the big town that had a small hospital.

I saw her there about three weeks later. She just stared at me from her bed, eyes like black holes, and never spoke.

And I saw her again a week after that; she’d been released, and somehow made her way back to the village and was walking along aimlessly along a small road leading to the water when the crew from the commune happened upon her and grabbed her and were hustling her to a boat, presumably to take her back to the commune.

Just then a black limo pulled up – I'd never seen one before, let alone in that backwards fishing village. And some suits jumped out – actual tuxedos -- and snatched her roughly from the hippies without much of a fight, and shoved her into the back, where I saw a well dressed older woman embrace her like a long lost daughter, and the car spirited away and that was the end of that story. Speculation was, it was her rich parents from Santa Barbara, California, USA, but no one ever knew for sure.

Hippies were spoiled, stupid brats. I learned that very early in life. Hippies morphed into today's liberals. I saw it play out in real time. And I see, now, in real time again, all the idiotic bullshit that liberals screw up, almost as a bloody religion. Screwing things up is their Goddamned calling in this world. -The disgusting circus with the bear, the sad story of the girl, the solution to the dead beaver in the spring -- the liberals are still doing all those things, today, as I type this, but they're making all these mistakes on a vastly bigger scale. They aren't playing with little 600 acre plots of land out in the bush -- they're playing with the fates of nations and entire populations of people. And they are exactly, precisely, completely as limp-wristed in their decisions, as clueless in their deliberations, and as wrong in their conclusions as those silly fools so many decades ago in that little bay in Canada. They are spoiled, rotten, imbecilic brats, pretending they have more than three brain cells down there in the depths of those tiny reptilian noggins, when there's really only one, living alone in a tiny, hermetically sealed bubble, where no outside stimuli from real life, cause and effect, empirical logic can penetrate; it hears only the tinny, muffled voices of the other one-cell imbeciles that are on its wavelength, repeating the identical mantras in chorus until EVERYONE accepts the hair-brained notions and fantasies as fact. The entrances to each one of those little Briggs and Stratton brain-pans (the ear canals) is posted prominently:

NO TRESPASSING!

ON PENALTY OF DEATH,

LOGIC SHALL NOT PASS!

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...a work in progress as of Fall, 2020...

 

 

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