Playtime is Over

When you reduce selection pressure as the West has massively done since the Industrial Revolution, you get a lot more depravity (you get r instead of K), because the relative penalties to error and vice go way, way down. And vice versa: when you increase selection pressure, the relative rewards to virtue go way, way up, so you get lots more virtue.

We have no immediate prospect of an uptick in natural selection pressure, although the handwriting is on the wall. It’s out there (it always is).

But Trump is imposing artificial selection pressure (in part because he and his ilk can comprehend the writing in flame on the wall (to the depraved at their banquet, it is gobbledygook, nonsense, mere noise: mene, mene, tekel upharsin)). His basic message is simple: Playtime is over, no more pretend, everybody out of the pool, time to get dressed and back to work.

The liberals are going crazy because this strictly artificial – i.e., merely social, rather than biological – increase in selection pressure pushes the same neural and cognitive levers as would be triggered by a sharp uptick in natural selection pressure. It feels to them like a sort of death. They are terrified of death. Trump makes them aware of their death. Like death, he just doesn’t care about their whining (as much as they are used to). So they panic, and then they turn to defensive rage. It’s a tantrum.

The Cure for Fascism is Almost Always More Fascism

Accusing people of fascism seems to be all the rage nowadays.  A popular jingle puts it this way:

No Trump!  No K.K.K!  No fascist U.S.A!

Getting the meter right is a little tricky at first, but as this jingle is almost always a mob chant, newbies seldom have to go it alone.  If you try it at home, I suggest that it is most fun to really dig into the three K’s, so that they sound like the rat-tat-tat of a pistol firing, and then stress the first syllable of the word Fascist in what the poet Gerard Manley Hopkins called sprung rhythm.  Don’t repeat the rat-tat-tat effect with the U, S, and A., though, since this trips up the meter. Continue reading

Hate and Hateful Hatreds

I have been preoccupied with soi-disant enemies of Hate, those men and women who are on fire to abolish what cooler heads must recognize as a highly ambiguous sentiment. Hate is an ambiguous sentiment because it is always joined to love, like follow and lead in a partner dance. Thus a world without hate would be a loveless world, an apotheosis of apathy, a United States of Whatever. Continue reading

Refuse the Insult

A commenter on my “Shambolic Circus” post directed me to a CNN report on Spencer’s Texas A&M speech, and specifically to what it said about the temporary disorder occasioned by the protest of Quentin Boothman.  Here is the relevant excerpt: Continue reading

A Shambolic Circus

I lead a quiet life, and so seldom see so much as the disappearing backside of naked hate, but last night I saw hate full-frontal, and that hate was coming at me. I saw a great chanting mob that was howling hatred, and specifying the object of its malice with signs that called for “fascist” blood. I saw stone-eyed ranks of la Raza Cósmica punching out their fists in the Red Salute and shouting about who did and who did not belong on campus. I listened to the hateful curses of Black nationalists, and even saw hatred pantomimed by two women dressed as clowns. Hate was on the menu last night. It was fresh, it was hot, and the portions were not small. Continue reading

Propaganda of the Deed Works Again!

Nineteenth-century anarchism gave us the idea of “propaganda of the deed.”  This refers to the use of outrages and atrocities to bring a political movement or event into public awareness, operating on the principle that there is no such thing as bad publicity.  The assassination of the Archduke Franz Ferdinand and his wife, on June 28, 1914, was an example of “propaganda of the deed,” since the aim of Gavrilo Princep was to get people talking about the cause of Serbian independence.  As the French socialist Paul Brousse explained: Continue reading

Storm Clouds Over the Brazos

A commenter recently cautioned that I had doxed myself. I appreciate his concern, but have always been knowingly reckless in maintaining my anonymity. My username matches the name on my birth certificate, and anyone who combs through my posts will discover that I am an academic geographer at a large public university in central Texas. With this information and a couple of keystrokes, anyone who is so minded can admire my photograph, peruse my curriculum vita, or tap out an e-mail with my address in the line labeled “To”. Continue reading

Thugs in the Banyan Groves of Academe

As everyone knows, the original Thugs were members of a murderous Hindu cult that was devoted to the goddess Kali, and that preyed upon parties of travelers whom they would at first befriend, and then betray in some lonely spot by the brutal rite of thuggee.  It appears that some similar scourge is now haunting the banyan groves of academe, if the Thug Warnings recently issued by our panjandrums are to be taken seriously.  Continue reading

Not a Snowflake, but a Hero

A sensible reactionary is forever on guard against the hazard of becoming merely reactionary, by which I mean ordering his loyalties and affections simply as the mirror opposite of the loyalties and affections of the stereotypical progressive Leftist.  We see such mere reaction at work in the man who drives a gas-guzzling monster truck because progressive leftists extoll tiny hybrids and scooters.  We see it at work in the man who eats monterey jack cheese because he has heard that progressive Leftists delight in stilton and brie. Continue reading