Marxism & Postmodernism (Pt. 1)

If you're new here, this is a weekly column consisting of letters written to my grandchildren (who exist) and my great-grandchildren (who aren't here yet) -- the Stickies -- to haunt them after they become grups and/or I'm dead.

[Blogaramians: Blogarama renders the links in my columns useless. Please click on View original (above↑) to solve the problem/access lotsa columns.]

Irregularly Appearing Imaginary Guest Stars

Marie-Louise -- My beautiful muse (right shoulder) and back scratcher 

Iggy -- My designated Sticky

Dana -- My designated gentlereader (left shoulder)

"Communism, like any other revealed religion, is largely made up of prophecies." -H.L. Mencken

Dear (eventual) Stickies & Great-Grandstickies,

In a few years some of you, possibly/hopefully anyway, will be going to college. Others, those of you not yet born at the time this is being written, may be cyborgs by the time you read this and will have to google (access the hive mind?) the phrase "going to college" to discover the meaning of this archaic expression.

But for now -- although this could change as rapidly as recorded music went from vinyl to tape to CDs to digital downloads to _______ -- colleges and universities are still viable (if wildly overpriced) institutions.

I'm not overly worried about costs (in spite of the fact that as things stand at the moment, I won't be able to offer much help). In fact, the fact that you're going to have to go to someplace you can afford without accruing crippling debt and major in something that has a reasonable chance of paying off are both healthy constraints in my view.

[I'm aware that as long as The Gummit keeps handing out loans like candy you can choose to major in art history, go into debt up to your eyeballs and make your loan payments via your tips from Starbucks. Follow your heart. Don't worry about killing me or your parents and ruining your life. Follow your bliss. I understand I like art too.]

However, as to certain strains of intellectual/cultural/etceterical weeds that seem to have recently bloomed  -- Snowflakism, political correctness, Critical Theory, safe spaces, Antifa, "democratic" socialism, Intersectionality (my personal fave), _______phobia, personal pronouns, Women's Studies programs, I identify as _______, ad infinitum, ad nauseam -- it turns out that they've been thriving in hothouses of higher education for quite awhile.

["Intersectionality is an important paradigm in academic scholarship and broader contexts such as social justice work, but difficulties arise due to the many complexities involved in making multidimensional conceptualizations that explain the way in which socially constructed categories of differentiation interact to create a social hierarchy." -Wikipedia's Intersectionality article] 

Relatively recently speaking, I've found/I find myself mildly obsessed with the much in the news Social Justice Warriors/Warriorism (SJW), terms I use here as a sort of catch-all for the phenomena (and the people involved) listed two paragraphs back.

As I suffer from a severe case of cognitive dissonance due to my split personality -- one-half happily heterosexual cranky old white dude and cheerleader for Western Civilization and one-half sassy, lesbian, African-American H. sapien named Coco trapped in the body of said cranky old white dude -- I went looking for original sources to help me resolve, or at least learn to live with, my conflicted self.

Which led to me academia and although I'm still highly conflicted and probably entitled to some sort of disability income or at least a settlement of some sort if I agree to sign the papers and go away, I serendipitously stumbled on some things you might also want to consider when deciding on whether/where to go to college.

[Gentlereaders: Deep breath. Please note that my drop-dead gorgeous muse and world-class back scratcher, Marie-Louise, has inspired me to simultaneously provide some practical advice to the Stickies while also  alerting them, and you, as to the source of the epidemic of SJWs biting the hands that feed them in spite of the fact there's an organic, free-range chicken in every pot and a computer in every pocket. Exhale. Cranky gives you your money's worth. Tell your friends.] 

Marxism

America, and my readers from around the globe, ever wonder what happened to the campus radicals of the 60s and 70s who didn't become yuppie scum (HT: J. Jones) after their 15 minutes was up? After the war ended and they found themselves with the oft more or less useless degrees they acquired (or oft hadn't quite acquired) while they were professional students trying to avoid the draft and/or getting a Job job?

A bunch of 'em chose a path that eventually would result in their becoming tenured professors.

[Please note: I've no problem with people that didn't want to go to Vietnam, I was one of them. I didn't have to go or/and decide what to do to keep from going simply because of dumb luck. The party, and the draft, was over shortly before I would've been confronted with that particular reality check and my misspent yute continued without interruption.]

Anyhow, (very) long story short, and at the risk of sounding like a member of the John Birch Society (which I just discovered still exists, yikes!), a bunch of  'em were/are Marxists. But applied, traditional Marxism (communism) -- having killed 100,000,000 souls (more or less...) and trashed the economies of several nations -- had/has lost a lot of its street cred.

Well... at least among the historically literate. Others, not so much.

[For the record, Xi Dadda and Li'l Rocket Man ain't communist dictators, they're traditional Far Eastern emperor types who don't have to be bothered with the Mandate of Heaven scam. Raul Castro and his ilk are just thugs hiding behind a discredited philosophy they've never actually taken seriously.]

So, what's a Marxist to do? Easy Peasy. Change the famous bourgeoisie (the bosses) vs. everyone else meme to happily heterosexual caucasian males vs. everyone else. All non-heterosexual caucasian males, all women, and all people of color including various/sundry subgroups and sub-subgroups.

Everyone else.

Bottom line: A tiny but fiendishly clever and relentlessly ruthless minority consisting of pasty white weenies who self-identify with the outdated gender stereotypes rampant among non-H. sapiens are, and have been, exploiting/enslaving/etceterating everyone and everything else for thousands of years.

They're the only thing standing in the way of a socialist paradise wherein that bogus social construct they thought up to maintain power over everyone else, equality of opportunity, will be replaced with equality of outcomes.

That's my (as usual) oversimplified (and in this case, conflicted) take on things. We'll do Postmodernism next week. If you don't know much about it, well, you ain't seen nothin' yet. Poppa loves you.

Have an OK day.


[P.S. Gentlereaders, for 25¢ a week, no, seriously, for 25¢ a week you can become a Patron of this weekly column and help to prevent an old crank from running the streets at night in search of cheap thrills and ill-gotten gains.

If there are some readers out there that think my shtuff is worth a buck or three a month, color me honored, and grateful. Regardless, if you like it, could you please share it? There are buttons at the end of every column.]


©2017 Mark Mehlmauer   (The Flyoverland Crank)

If you're reading this on my website (where there are tons of older columns, a glossary, and other goodies) and if you wish to react (way cooler than liking) -- please scroll down.

Politics (Before I Wake Up Dead, Pt 6.5)

If you're new here, this is a weekly column consisting of letters written to my grandchildren (who exist) and my great-grandchildren (who aren't here yet) -- the Stickies -- to haunt them after they become grups and/or I'm dead.

[Blogaramians: Blogarama renders the links in my columns useless. Please click on View original (above↑) to solve the problem/access lotsa columns.]

Irregularly Appearing Imaginary Guest Stars

Marie-Louise -- My beautiful muse (right shoulder) and back scratcher 

Iggy -- My designated Sticky

Dana -- My designated gentlereader (left shoulder)

"A national debt, if it is not excessive, will be to us a national blessing." -Alexander Hamilton

Dear (eventual) Stickies & Great-Grandstickies,

Our story thus far. I decided to write a series of letters/columns about stuff that I wanted to make sure I told you in case I wake up dead, the destined to be famous Before I Wake Up Dead (BIWUD) series.

God and Politics (BIWUD, Pt. 6), written two weeks ago and which was supposed to be the last of the series, covered God, but only introduced politics. So, last weeks letter/column should have been: Politics (BIWUD, Pt. 6.5) and that, as they say, should have been that.

However, wanting to end the year on a high note, I wrote about an inspirational commencement speech that included my favorite Bob Dylan lyrics in a column called Plagiarism.

All Politics, All the Time

"I've put it off till last because I'm sick of this subject, a subject that at one time I found fascinating." I made that statement two weeks ago but ran out of room, time, and energy before saying exactly why I'm sick of the subject.

Saturation. All politics, all the time, is the short answer. I've got a folder on my... wait a sec', I'll be right back...

OK, I've got a folder on the bookmarks bar of my browser.

[Sorry, I celebrated my 39th birthday for the 25th time last summer and I've developed some short-term memory issues. Being unable to remember that a bookmarks bar is called a bookmarks bar, for example.]

This folder, labeled FU (short for funnies, which is what we called comic strips when I was a callowyute), contains links to a dozen strips that are the first thing I read every morning, in search of a smile, before checking out my email, the news, the weather, etc.

Now, two of 'em are editorial cartoons, one by a bitter, whiny, Trump obsessed Leftie and the other by a clever, amusing, Rightie who covers all sorts of subjects. This is because I'm open-minded and want the perspective of both left and right wingers.

However, more and more, politics has reared its ugly head in the other daily, allegedly light-hearted strips, the purpose of which, I thought, was smile generation. I'm not talking making fun of politics, I'm talking staking out polarizing positions.

One of 'em, for example, although still capable of occasionally making me laugh out loud, has taken to regularly promoting politically correct eating (among other P.C. positions). Gimme a break... 

If you're new here, for the record, I don't identify as either a Depublican or a Republicrat and I didn't vote for the Donald or the Hilliam. Also, in case you're new here or/and haven't been paying attention, I do identify as a perky, African-American libertarian lesbian H. sapien (my personal pronoun of choice) named Coco who is trapped in the body of a cranky old white dude.

Anyways...

[Wait-wait-wait. Question, is this going anywhere? Is getting lost in the weeds a side effect of that new med you mentioned a couple of weeks ago? Also, H. sapien is not a personal pronoun, it's a noun. Furthermore, it's sapiens, not sapien, you can't...]

Tut-tut-tut. Dana-Dana-Dana. Don't be a narrow-minded, reactionary hater. By the way, have you seen Iggy or Marie-Louise?

[They're standing in line at various and sundry stores to return unwanted Christmas gifts. Don't try to change the subject. I repeat, is this going somewhere?]

Absabalutely. (HT: Ray). How did we get to all politics all the time? A virus that has even infected sports, the true (and harmless) opiate of the masses. Get up off of your knees, win the game and then donate 25% of your money or/and time to saving the world (you'll still be rich).

Sorry, I digress.

Why aren't we obsessed with going to Mars or... or instead of turning global warming into a religion for people that lost theirs and never got over it, why aren't we working on a way to give the whole world the climate of San Diego and where/when it only snows if we want it to -- or something equally seemingly impossible?

Accomplishing seemingly impossible, dangerous things was what made America great.

[Well hell, everyone knows the reasons for that. You've written about 'em. The 24x7x365 news cycle of the if it bleeds it leads/wears its bias on its sleeve media. 

The fact that the Gummit is so large and pervasive the Swamp is like Louis the (circle one, XIV's -- XV's -- XVI's) Versailles on steroids. 

The fact that we've got a political industry! Professional politicians/political hacks/pundits and pollsters. 

The fact that...]

All true, but it's all about the money. Whether you want to spend it on a gold plated toothpick, your kid's medical bills or pass it around after the revolution, it's all about the dough.


Here are some more facts for ya', bucko.

Fact one. According to this site, in 2018 total federal, state, and local gummit revenues will amount to roughly $6.66 trillion (interesting number, huh?).

Fact two. I became interested in politics at the age of 13 (1966, hey, I've never claimed to be normal). At that point in the dim and distant past, most grups, even the ones that voted religiously, were, for the most part, not obsessed with politics. In fact, didn't pay much attention till an election was approaching.

Fact three. Right or wrong, the mid-1960s was when the current version of the American version of a welfare state started to pick up steam.

Fact four. Again, right or wrong, help from The Gummit keeps growing, "rights" keep expanding. Everyone benefits, which is why most us vote for the H. sapien that promises to make sure we get our slice of the pie, or at least redistributes the slices to our favorite designated victims.

Fact five. Since WW2, no matter the who/what/when/where/why, Hauser's law has remained true The Gummit's revenue is about 19.5% of the economy. This is why we're up to our necks in debt (and rising), as a nation -- we keep spending more than we make. Officially, we're $20,000,000,000 or so in the hole as this is being written.

Of course we're obsessed with politics. Even if you set aside the political industry mentioned above and or/and it's ability to keep us hyped via Information Age technologies the logical thing to do is fight for a slice of the $6,600,000,000 pie.


My Dear Stickies, when I told you last week I put off publishing this column because I didn't want to end 2017 on a dark note, well, (gentlereaders: click the link for a hair-raising reality check) you're on the hook for roughly $120,000,000,000. Sorry. Poppa loves you.

Have an OK day.


[P.S. Gentlereaders, for 25¢ a week, no, seriously, for 25¢ a week you can become a Patron of this weekly column and help to prevent an old crank from running the streets at night in search of cheap thrills and ill-gotten gains.

If there are some readers out there that think my shtuff is worth a buck or three a month, color me honored, and grateful. Regardless, if you like it, could you please share it? There are buttons at the end of every column.]


©2017 Mark Mehlmauer   (The Flyoverland Crank)

If you're reading this on my website (where there are tons of older columns, a glossary, and other goodies) and if you wish to react (way cooler than liking) -- please scroll down.

Plagiarism

If you're new here, this is a weekly column consisting of letters written to my grandchildren (who exist) and my great-grandchildren (who aren't here yet) -- the Stickies -- to haunt them after they become grups and/or I'm dead.

[Blogaramians: Blogarama renders the links in my columns useless. Please click on View original (above↑) to solve the problem/access lotsa columns.]

Irregularly Appearing Imaginary Guest Stars

Marie-Louise -- My beautiful muse (right shoulder) and back scratcher 

Iggy -- My designated Sticky

Dana -- My designated gentlereader (left shoulder)

"If you steal from one author it's plagiarism, if you steal from many it's research." -Wilson Mizner 


Dear (eventual) Stickies & Great-Grandstickies, 

This letter was supposed to be God and Politics (Before I Wake Up Dead, Pt. 6.5). That is to say, since part six did cover God, but didn't cover politics, this letter was supposed to be about politics, which would make it part 6.5.

However, the letter that I wrote about politics is somewhat dark and depressing as the state of politics in the republic is somewhat dark and depressing. I'll publish it next week, which will give me a chance to try and lighten things up a bit. After all, while our political situation is polarization personified, the economic situation has improved. 

Well, perhaps not as much as we in Flyoverland would like, but there are glimmers of hope. The contention of Mr. Obama and his minions, that a pathetic 2% increase in annual GDP is the new normal, may not necessarily be true. Let us pray...or at least hope so.  

I don't want the last letter of the year (a year which has proven not to be one of my better ones) to be dark, so inspired by an article I read the other day, I've opted for plagiarism.  

[Dana: Did you drink some bad eggnog? Marie-Louise: Mon Dieu! Iggy: Anybody know why the first i in plagiarism is silent?] 

Calm down everbody. Long story short(ish), deep breath -- I read an article about Chief Justice John Roberts commencement address at his son's 9th-grade graduation last June (I know, I know, but let's not go there...) that I already knew about, but had forgotten about, that contained the  passages (re)printed below and which prompted me to look up the entire speech, which I found in a different article, whereupon I discovered that the speech also contained the lyrics of a Bob Dylan song, one of the few I actually like, if fact really like, which are also (re)printed below. 

So, in some form or fashion, I'm plagiarizing two articles, a speech, and Bob Dylan lyrics. However, you're worth the legal repercussions.   

The Speech

"...commencement speakers will typically...wish you good luck and extend good wishes to you. I will not do that, and I’ll tell you why. From time to time in the years to come, I hope you will be treated unfairly, so that you will come to know the value of justice. 

I hope that you will suffer betrayal because that will teach you the importance of loyalty. 

Sorry to say, but I hope you will be lonely from time to time so that you don’t take friends for granted. 

I wish you bad luck, again, from time to time so that you will be conscious of the role of chance in life and understand that your success is not completely deserved and that the failure of others is not completely deserved either. 

And when you lose, as you will from time to time, I hope every now and then, your opponent will gloat over your failure. It is a way for you to understand the importance of sportsmanship. 

I hope you’ll be ignored so you know the importance of listening to others, and I hope you will have just enough pain to learn compassion. 

Whether I wish these things or not, they’re going to happen. And whether you benefit from them or not will depend upon your ability to see the message in your misfortunes."

The Lyrics (from "Forever Young")

May God bless you and keep you always
May your wishes all come true
May you always do for others
And let others do for you
May you build a ladder to the stars
And climb on every rung
And may you stay forever young

May you grow up to be righteous
May you grow up to be true
May you always know the truth
And see the lights surrounding you
May you always be courageous
Stand upright and be strong
And may you stay forever young

May your hands always be busy
May your feet always be swift
May you have a strong foundation
When the winds of changes shift
May your heart always be joyful
May your song always be sung
And may you stay forever young

Poppa loves you.
Have an OK day.

[P.S. Gentlereaders, for 25¢ a week, no, seriously, for 25¢ a week you can become a Patron of this weekly column and help to prevent an old crank from running the streets at night in search of cheap thrills and ill-gotten gains.

If there are some readers out there that think my shtuff is worth a buck or three a month, color me honored, and grateful. Regardless, if you like it, could you please share it? There are buttons at the end of every column.]

©2017 Mark Mehlmauer   (The Flyoverland Crank)

If you're reading this on my website (where there are tons of older columns, a glossary, and other goodies) and if you wish to react (way cooler than liking) -- please scroll down.