B. U. G. S.

I have had to tell you over and over, at the risk of sounding like the Masturbation Generation, how tough I’ve had it. Sometimes this was the ventilating I needed to do, more often it points about ADD and the rest of my baggage I am carrying.

And often it was just plain sloppy self-pity. But nobody here is under the impression that I am perfect or even slightly superhuman. Every mistake I criticize I made and, more important, I MAKE. Which, I hope, does YOU some good. YOU can screw up, YOU can take action and goof it. You can say things you are ashamed of later.

We are white people. We don’t look to a Perfect Master or a guru. The one thing I am proud of is that I am out there making mistakes, looking stupid, TRYING to do it better, LISTENING when you call me on it.

I hope this makes it easier for you to deal with the real world. You are not in this to LOOK good. You can’t concentrate on our titanic task and try to look good doing it. THAT is the white man’s way, not finding some Perfect Model. A lot of people PREACH that, but they try desperately to LOOK good doing it.

Well, obviously you can’t look like an idiot all the time and get people to follow your lead, but when you begin to make looking good a main priority, you are no longer concentrating on what we are DOING. It’s a hard line to talk, but everything we do is a hard line to walk.

On this trip, I realized that, in a fairly rough existence, one of the ways I found out things YOU can USE is because in some ways I was SPOILED.

At age 66, in a crowded intellectual life, while others are bragging abut how they read some esoteric work, I am still defining BASICS.

During the past week I have had people yelling at each other around me. Nothing gets said, nothing gets listened to, and nothing gets DONE. I got a close look at a BASIC I took for granted before.

In my youth, I was raised in *** A *** Southern tradition. My family was not rich by modern standards, but we were by far the top family where we were. From the word go, surrounded by blacks and poor whites, I was taken very seriously as a leader before I reached my teens.

When I was out in the African and South American outback, I was the blond mercenary American people listened to. I was SPOILED in a way.

I naturally grabbed the job of being the writer and the spokesman for inarticulate people. I was, in the true sense of the word, raised to be an aristocrat among inarticulate people I identified with and who had to turn to me. This gave me training you couldn’t have gotten elsewhere. This gave me UNIQUE attitudes that cannot be taught.

I did NOT come up through ANY kind of bureaucracy. Everyone else in a leadership role today learns to obey the rules in the military way: You have to learn to obey orders before you give them. That is a firm basis of all Masturbation Generation thinking because all of today’s “leaders” and “spokesmen” did it that way.

The result is the “leaders” and spokesmen” we have today. Your job is to fit in and conform so that, when you reach middle age and all originality has been beaten out of you, you have learned to be the best conformist. THEN you become a Spokesman and a Leader.

You are also the perfect building material for Political Correctness.

One of the endless series of brags about being a Real Man I heard from the Masturbation Generation literally hundreds of times, though it seems like millions, had to do with making up a bed. They had to make up their bed with straight sheets so that the sergeant could bounce a quarter off of it.

WOW!

I never once made up a bed with a straight bottom sheet. Since my divorce changing sheets is a more or less annual occasion, and until they FINALLY started making bottom sheets with lots of room at the edges, I was there puffing and straining and cussing as one end came loose after another.

I was never a sheet-tightening Real Man. I have had to field strip an automatic weapon when it jammed at the wrong time, but I do not remember ever cleaning my own gun once in my life. On the other hand I never left my weapon in the field in a panic the way thousands did at Normandy.

But I am a Masturbation Generation wimp because I probably couldn’t clean my own pistols and I sure couldn’t make up a bed so a sergeant could bounce a quarter off of it.

I’m SPOILED. If I weren’t, this Blog would be written by one more Organization Man, and that you DON’T need.

This is a lead-in to the next piece.