Quote of the Day – The Destruction Principle

From Captain Capitalism:

It is easier to destroy something that already exists than build something of genuine value up from scratch.

This is key to understand the psychology Crusaders and Crusaderism because when given the choice of:

“Work hard, study something rigorous, and put in the effort into a long and demanding career”


“Find something in society that already exists, villianize it and declare it evil, then wage a campaign against it”

the lazy, mathophoic, work-fearing leftist crusader will ALWAYS go for destroying institutions and pillars over doing something that requires effort.

And you must understand how arrogant and truly evil this is. The crusader doesn’t target these pillars or institutions of society because those institutions and pillars are evil. They target those things because the crusaders are evil.

An Accurate (if ominous) Prediction

Mark Steyn as interviewed by Ed Driscoll, Sept. 17, 2012:

DRISCOLL: So with all of that as prologue; with the ongoing collapse of so many aspects of what make up Barack Obama’s worldview, why is Mitt Romney seemingly flailing in the polls as of the time of this interview?

STEYN: Yeah. That bothers me too, because this guy ought to be losing by ten points at least. And I know people say well, it’s a fifty-fifty nation and it’s going to be a tight election and all the rest of it. If it’s tight this time around that says something very alarming. You know, a lot of people don’t — simply don’t get the numbers. The word trillion doesn’t really mean anything to people; it has no relation to their lives. And at a certain point it takes on a bit of unreality because if you can spend trillions of dollars you don’t have and you do it for one year and you do it for two years and you do it for five years, people think well, why can’t we keep on doing that. So that doesn’t seem like a real problem to many people.

And then I think there’s something even more worrying. That if you go back to 2008 — and we all did this at the time — we said basically those of us, you know, who however reluctantly supported McCain. When he lost we said well, the guy gave the impression he wanted to lose and people were exhausted by war and people were tired of the Bush administration and the Republicans hadn’t covered themselves in glory in the previous couple of years and this guy would be the first black president and everyone’s saying he’s the greatest speaker of all time and he’s a real glamorous celebrity figure.

You know, McCain did the thing where he was mocking Obama as the celebrity. Now we’ve had four years of him. He’s a crashing bore. He’s not a great speaker. He’s got nothing new to say. He staggers around doing the same — giving the same leaden speech as the economy flatlines, as the jobs market shrivels, as people in their early fifties go on disability and people in their late 20s move back with their parents.

If he gets sort of elected as the nonglamorous failure, what that would mean is that America is essentially saying there’s no prospect of recovery. We’re sticking with big nanny Obama because at least he’s guaranteeing our food stamps and our disability checks. And they would essentially be accepting — they would be accepting, I think kind of — a European nanny state view of America that would in effect spell the end of this country. They’d be basically saying there’s no possibility of an American dream.

Yes, we could vote for Romney, but who wants to take a flyer on economic recovery. At least if we go with Obama we have the certainty of the food stamps and the certainty of the disability checks. That’s a — there’s no hope — he’s basically offering them the hope — the certainty of no change. And he’s saying when everything gets bad, and it’s going to be bad for as far as the eye can see, vote for me because you’ll get your food stamps.

I think he called it.

“That America will return one day, I know it will.”

Received, again, via email. My thanks to Dave.

Old Aviators and Old Airplanes….

This is a good little story about a vivid memory of a P-51 and its pilot, by a fellow who was 12 years old in Canada in 1967. It was to take to the air. They said it had flown in during the night from some U.S. Airport, the pilot had been tired.

I marveled at the size of the plane dwarfing the Pipers and Canucks tied down by her. It was much larger than in the movies. She glistened in the sun like a bulwark of security from days gone by.

The pilot arrived by cab, paid the driver, and then stepped into the pilot’s lounge. He was an older man; his wavy hair was gray and tossed. It looked like it might have been combed, say, around the turn of the century. His flight jacket was checked, creased and worn – it smelled old and genuine. Old Glory was prominently sewn to its shoulders. He projected a quiet air of proficiency and pride devoid of arrogance. He filed a quick flight plan to Montreal (Expo-67, Air Show) then walked across the tarmac.

After taking several minutes to perform his walk-around check the pilot returned to the flight lounge to ask if anyone would be available to stand by with fire extinguishers while he “flashed the old bird up, just to be safe.”

Though only 12 at the time I was allowed to stand by with an extinguisher after brief instruction on its use — “If you see a fire, point, then pull this lever!” I later became a firefighter, but that’s another story. The air around the exhaust manifolds shimmered like a mirror from fuel fumes as the huge prop started to rotate. One manifold, then another, and yet another barked — I stepped back with the others. In moments the Packard-built Merlin engine came to life with a thunderous roar, blue flames knifed from her manifolds. I looked at the others’ faces, there was no concern. I lowered the bell of my extinguisher. One of the guys signaled to walk back to the lounge. We did.

Several minutes later we could hear the pilot doing his pre flight run-up. He’d taxied to the end of runway 19, out of sight. All went quiet for several seconds; we raced from the lounge to the second story deck to see if we could catch a glimpse of the P-51 as she started down the runway. We could not. There we stood, eyes fixed to a spot half way down 19. Then a roar ripped across the field, much louder than before, like a furious hell spawn set loose—something mighty this way was coming. “Listen to that thing!” said the controller.

In seconds the Mustang burst into our line of sight. Its tail was already off and it was moving faster than anything I’d ever seen by that point on 19. Two-thirds the way down 19 the Mustang was airborne with her gear going up. The prop tips were supersonic; we clasped our ears as the Mustang climbed hellish fast into the circuit to be eaten up by the dog-day haze.

We stood for a few moments in stunned silence trying to digest what we’d just seen. The radio controller rushed by me to the radio. “Kingston tower calling Mustang?” He looked back to us as he waited for an acknowledgment.

The radio crackled, “Go ahead Kingston.”

“Roger Mustang. Kingston tower would like to advise the circuit is clear for a low level pass.” I stood in shock because the controller had, more or less, just asked the pilot to return for an impromptu air show!

The controller looked at us. “What?” he asked. “I can’t let that guy go without asking. I couldn’t forgive myself!”

The radio crackled once again, Kingston, do I have permission for a low level pass, east to west, across the field?”

“Roger Mustang, the circuit is clear for an east to west pass.”

“Roger, Kingston, I’m coming out of 3000 feet, stand by.”

We rushed back onto the second-story deck, eyes fixed toward the eastern haze. The sound was subtle at first, a high-pitched whine, a muffled screech, a distant scream.

Moments later the P-51 burst through the haze. Her airframe straining against positive Gs and gravity, wing tips spilling contrails of condensed air, prop-tips again supersonic as the burnished bird blasted across the eastern margin of the field shredding and tearing the air.

At about 500 mph and 150 yards from where we stood she passed with the old American pilot saluting. Imagine. A salute! I felt like laughing, I felt like crying, she glistened, she screamed, the building shook, my heart pounded.

Then the old pilot pulled her up and rolled, and rolled, and rolled out of sight into the broken clouds and indelibly into my memory. I’ve never wanted to be an American more than on that day. It was a time when many nations in the world looked to America as their big brother, a steady and even-handed beacon of security who navigated difficult political water with grace and style; not unlike the pilot who’d just flown into my memory. He was proud, not arrogant, humble, not a braggart, old and honest, projecting an aura of America at its best. That America will return one day, I know it will. Until that time, I’ll just send off this story; call it a reciprocal salute, to the old American pilot who wove a memory for a young Canadian that’s lasted a lifetime.

I know we still retain the possibility to be again what we once were, but I’m afraid that entropy will win in the end.  The culture of a nation reflects the philosophy of that nation, and ours is no longer that of John Locke and Adam Smith, but rather Jean-Jacques Rousseau, Immanuel Kant and Karl Marx, when it isn’t just “…a junk heap of unwarranted conclusions, false generalizations, undefined contradictions, undigested slogans, unidentified wishes, doubts and fears, thrown together by chance, but integrated by your subconscious into a kind of mongrel philosophy and fused into a single, solid weight: self doubt, like a ball and chain in the place where your mind’s wings should have grown” as Ayn Rand put it.

If you didn’t mist up a little when reading that story, you may be who I’m talking about.  

“That America will return one day….

I sure hope so.

Quote of the Day – “You’re the MAN Now!” Edition

From a comment over at Joe’s:

Note that those on the far Left have the delusion that they are besieged, when in fact they control the state, they control the vast civil service bureaucracies, they control the news and entertainment media that force the rest of us to swim in a sea of agitprop all our lives.

They tell themselves that they want to “speak truth to power,” but in fact they speak power to truth, all day, every day.


And on this holiday, may we be truly thankful for all we shall be receiving over the next few years….

Quote of the Day – Curmudgeon Edition

From Adaptive Curmudgeon:

The arc of history is not always upward and onward. Sometimes it stagnates. I don’t like the merest hint that I might be in a period of stagnation. But sometimes it looks like it may be coming. People without adequate technology to program PacMan flew to the moon. They flew to the moon with sliderules! Decades later I can have satellite TV but we collectively lost our shit and never went to the moon again. Yes to “Bridezilla TV” but no to “space, the final frontier”? Really? Why?

On a smaller scale I’ve seen computers pop up everywhere but simultaneously dumb themselves down. I used to meet geezers that had never seen a mouse and I found that understandable. Now I meet kids who have never been without a smart phone that can call Hong Kong, yet they can’t swap their own batteries or understand where they’ve saved a file. I find that reprehensible.

I don’t like sliding backwards. I was promised hovercars and space flight, I got Twitter and Starbucks. I demand a recount!

RTWT, and watch the video.