Archive for October 14th, 2006
I am too perfect to have a big ego. So the fact that Dave keeps writing stuff I have to put here without comment just makes me very, very happy.
Anyone else who has set himself up as the Ultimate Intellectual Leader the way I have would resent that, but not me.
So I want Dave to understand that that hit man I sent after him was just a practical joke.
Fear causes the mind to play tricks. For example, one winter morning I was walking through an empty lot in a downtown area and ran across a “sleeping” bum.
Later, I read in the paper that the police picked up the body of man who had died of exposure there.
I thought to myself, how could my mind play such tricks? The man had frost all over his body. He was ivory white and obviously dead.
I didn’t want to see a corpse out of fear, so my mind made me believe the man was “sleeping”. I honestly didn’t pay the encounter a second thought until I read in paper about the corpse.
This is the white race today. A horrible catastrophe has befallen us. Enemies and vile traitors surround us. Our homes are being stolen. Our country has been destroyed. Yet, our minds tell us everything is ok and everything will work out.
This is fear. This is how fear really works.
Comment by Dave
Some years ago, my husband and I were driving through the Wind River Canyon in Wyoming in December. I was driving and hit a patch of black ice. I skidded into the left lane as a Semi was barreling toward us. I remember feeling perfectly calm, thinking I’ll be dead in a minute. However, we skidded onto the shoulder as the truck whizzed past. Afterwards my heart started pounding and my husband’s leg was shaking as he insisted on taking the wheel. I think it’s true there are worse things than dying. People also go through a lot of stupid, humiliating, medical tests, that aren’t really necessary, just because they were told they might die, IMO
Comment by Shari
The shakes is another funny thing about fear. I got the shakes big time after my incident with those cute baboons, but other times I was not afraid during the actual shooting, but would get the shakes your husband did. Something in me was obviously deeply impressed by what just happened.
I got a call today from a mother whose daughter is on drugs. As I keep saying, when some Greatest Generation type demands my admiration for his overcoming his fear in combat, it makes me sick to my stomach. He wants me to feel humbled at his heroism.
But talking to this woman, I was GENUINELY humbled. This is a lady I always considered amusing because she is so self-obsessed with her own pride that she doesn’t even realize it. But in this call she clearly couldn’t care less about what I thought of HER.
World War II types are always indicating that anyone who wasn’t in The Great War has any experience in Real Life at all.
Well, this lady was asking my advice and I really don’t know what it is like to be a mother who is desperate over her child. That was something I had to take into account big time. It is true and easy to say that a child’s drug problem cannot be taken care of by a parent, but I know very well that I am NOT a mother in that situation.
Dealing with real, selfless terror like that HUMBLES me the way the WWII crowd wants me to be humbled. After I listen to the genuine terror in a mother’s voice, they make me even sicker to my stomach the next time I hear them.
“I was not afraid of dying, but I was afraid of crippling.”
I had the same fear when I was a teenager. I used to do a bit of reckless driving, illegal drag racing, and high speed late night highway driving as (back then) I was a thrill seeker. I also ran horses at break neck speeds just to feel the wind in my hair, knowing one misstep and I’d be damaged goods. My biggest fear wasn’t crashing and dying — tt was crashing and living. Now that I’m older and “alot less bolder” I look back on my past and wonder just what the hell was surging thru my veins to make me do such stupid things.
— Comment by Mark
Mark, those who talk about being The Greatest Generation were the same age as you were when you did that insane driving. If you did not have your wisdom, you would see your exploits as examples of real Tough Guy courage.
That is what NAUSEATES me about the endless bragging of the World War II Generation. If you had been living back then, you would have put that reckess courage into combat. But MARK wouldn’t have made everybody else miserable bragging about how that made him a hero for life.
The very idea of someone thinking me as one of Tough Guys like those who call themselves The Greatest Generation LITERALLY– and I mean that literally — gives me a queasy feeling in my stomach. Reading back over the piece I just wrote, “Fear,” made me FEAR that you will take that as a statement that the Hero Bob thinks only of others, not himself, when threatened.
As Nixon used to say, “Let me make this very, very clear. I am not a crook…”
Sorry, I mean I want to make it perfectly clear that I am NOT a Fearless One. I have not feared DEATH because my life was simply miserable. I lived because I had something to do, and also because of my one percent Christian faith. My life would not have been so miserable if I had been immune to fear.
Let me give an example. You could conclude from what I wrote that I had no concerns for my own safety, all I thought of was my family. That’s Greatest Generation crap.
I have lived in fear. I was terrified of losing my job. I was scared of having the hell beat out of me. A LOT of things worried me that were about ME.
Citing the supreme example, let me tell you the most frightened I have ever been in a scare-filled life, and it had nothing whatever to do with my concern for OTHERS.
I was sitting in Africa with a fully automatic weapon, a REAL assault weapon. I heard a rustling noice behind me. I suddenly realized that a baboon troop was going right by, and I was right in their path.
It got worse. I could see from the corner of my eye that they had BABY baboons with them.
We all know that an elephant can kill you almost routinely if they have baby elephants with them. If you are out in wild territory, the FIRST rule is that if you see any animals that have young with them, get the hell out of there and don’t let them notice you. So here I was, right in the middle of violating that rule with a whole troop passing right by me.
Now let me tell you something about baboons you already know. The word “baboon” is cute. On many documentaries I have seen a closeup of a baboon opening its mouth is a huge yawn. That looks so HUMAN! It looks like a bored old man. It’s CUTE.
Their mouth is so huge makes the yawn look especially funny.
What one tends not to notice in that yawn is the TEETH. The mouth is big to accomodate those enormous teeth. They are the teeth a baboon troop sometimes uses to tear a lone female lion to pieces when the troop has babies with them.
So I did not notice how CUTE they were. I was not even amused by the fact that some of them were carrying charming little baby baboons in their arms the way a human mother would.
I lacked what you might “perspective” on the whole situation.
They were coming in from my back, all around me. If I had been in the direct path of one of them coming from back there, they would have recognized me as an animal and not a still life and ripped me up. But I was not ABOUT to turn my head to see if one of them was coming directly up on me. At that point, compared to Young Bob, a statue is doing a dervish dance.
Death did not scare me. But something primieval in me objected violently to being ripped to pieces and left there after I was rendered harmless. After they passed me I had violent shakes that went on and on.
Bob is NOT Fearless. Thousand of members of the Greatst Generation dropped their weapons at Normandy, but I have never heard ONE of them say THEY were one of the ones who did it. This is not dishonesty. After the pasage of years and watching John Wayne movies, they have totally forgotten all that and see themselves as heroic.
Sure, they will repeat the Greatest Generation Matra: “All men who are in combat are afraid.” But they seldom REMEMBER it.
In my case that incident was decades ago, too. But I remember that Young Bob was not a Tough Guy. Ole Bob was scared out of his wits.
As for my weapon, once the troop hit me, it would have done no good at all. And at the time I totally forgot I had it, and if running would have done any good, that gun will still be sitting out in the African bush.
My fun exchange with Joe about our fear of ending up like Jerry Ford reminded me of some points about how odd fear is.
Ed Wood made movies in the 1950s that were so bad and so cheap that he became famous for it. He was a transvestite and made a movie about it, in which I think he starred.
Wood was NOT a homosexual, he was a transvestite. Apparently women’s underthings made him feel closer to women — a mother fixation? He used them as a security blanket. In World War II he actually parachuted into combat in a bra and panties.
Everybody else in The Greatest Gerneration talks about their heroism in facing death. Wood said his real fear had nothing to do with jumping several thousand feet into a battle.
According to Wood his fear was that he would be wounded and the medics would undress him and find out he was wearing a BRA!
But what about the death all the rest of The Greatest Generation blubberingly cry about aving to face? Wood just thought of himself as one more of millions of men who went into combat. This was before they started weeping over their own bravery and calling themselves The Greatest Generation. What bothered him was that bra and those panties!
I believe what Wood said because I had a similar experience.
I saw a number of men have their guts ripped out and dying after being hit by shrapnel. I was lying there and found blood on my stomach and figured I had had it. But my reaction was odd. I’ve never been all that fond of being alive, so what hit me was, “Well, this is it.”
Another experience really scared me. I spent a few minutes that seemed a year lying on my back without being able to move — I will deny all this on the proper occasion. I had landed on my neck and I was convinced that I had been crippled from the neck down. That TERRIFIED me.
I have dealt with paraplegics, which is a lot less bad thant he complete neck-down crippling “Superman” later suffered — but even being that bad off was not what scared me. You see, most of what I did had no official sanction and no official support. If I were crippled up there would be no veterans’ benefits.
So almost every time I took chances I was risking my FAIMLY without their knowledge. The burden would fall on my brothers and sisters. They could not let a member of the family simply starve, but they had their own lives to live, their own families to support. A complete cripple is a HORRIBLE burden, welfare services notwithstanding.
Death didn’t scare me, but THAT did.
The same conscience that made me take the risks also tortured me about taking them. But I HAD to.
I was not afraid of dying, but I was afraid of crippling.
Fear is a very individual thing.
In response to my piece on the Black Sea flood as the origin of the Indo-European expansion and its mention in the Bible due to Zoroastrian influences, someone on Stormfront gave me rep points and included a note that the New Testament was written in Greek rather than in Hebrew.
That’s the least of it. The New Testament was written by another historical group that is as forgotten as Zoroastriansim.
Nobody has the least real knowledge of Christianity who is not aware of the importance of Persian Zoroastriansim AND of the Hellenic Jews.
There are estimates that there were up to seven MILLION Jews in the Roman Empire in the time of Jesus. The overwhelming majority of them were HELLENIC Jews, like the historian Josephus. But as Christianity arose, that vast population of Jews disappeared entirely from history.
Six million Jews disappeared. Where did they GO?
Either there was a Hitler Holocaust history never mentioned, or they became the basis of the Christian Church. THEIR Old Testament was in GREEK. Their NEW Testament was in GREEK.
I don’t think you need Sherlock Holmes to tell you where they went. But no theologian seems to.
I pointed out to Mark that, since I will never be perfect, I have to resort to the next best thing, which is correcting my mistakes. That’s where YOU come in. It is not a good thing to let me get away with incorrect statemetns, even if they don’t seem important.
So Derek corrected me. I, naturally, came up with a smartass reply, but I absorbed his information for future use:
Ford played for Michigan.
Comment by Derek — 10/14/2006 @ 2:24 am | Edit This
Derek, we could both be right. Ford may have been playing for Michigan but showed up on
the Yale team. He was supposed to be a Republican but he was the best asset the
Comment by Bob