Neanderpundit

I’m engaging in a part-time discussion with a serial mope named Ed Darrel who is convinced that Rachel Carson, that malthusian angel of death, is the bomb diggity shiznit.

The tactics, on his part, are classic.

“You can’t prove a single thing she said was wrong”

Shit, pretty much everything she said was wrong, and it self-dissects rather easily.

“You never read her book- you don’t know!!!”

I never sucked cock either, but I bet it doesn’t taste like a Rocket Pop.

“Cite any study that proves DDT is safe”

Well, in ten seconds of googling, I can cite quite a few. But that’s not my gig, you asshelmet.

See, the thing is, these idiots have just developed into true believers, who have had erected for them a fact proof screen that prevents any reality from penetrating the density of their awareness. No matter what you say, they refute it, whether it is capable of being refuted or not.

I don’t know how to get through to these idiots, because they are incapable of reason. Trouble is, they clog the world with their stupidity, and they vote. Wonder if we can somehow construct an Ark B? Maybe keep the telephone sanitizers this time.

(edited to add the link to the post, sorry. Othersw may want to play along)

Cold Fury to the sidebar, sometime commenter Randy Rager is a co-blogger there and I always forget to link to him. It’s a good read and I should read there more, simply because of posts like this in which Randy makes bread. With bacon, cheese, Jalapenos, and beer.

Money quote:

“Since when does bacon need a reason? Bacon is it’s own damned reason.”

Truer words are rarely spoken. Welcome, Cold Fury, sorry it has taken so long to add you.

Walking through the parking lot of a WalMart one day last year, a woman parked her car and left it running, an old gentleman sitting in the passenger seat.

He looked like he was having a bad day. His newer jacket was covered with old patches, lovingly resewn, and he had a hat with a military insignia I didn’t recognize.

If I had to guess it was a woman taking her father for his day out of the home- or maybe picking up his meds.

I got his attention, and though I am a career civillian, I gave him the snappiest salute I could muster.

He smiled. he straightened up in his seat a bit and adjusted hs jacket, and returned the salute.

I have mixed feelings, even now, about saluting, not having ever served I technically don’t qualify to do even that- but it clearly improved his day, and if I can do that for him, it was, to me, worth it.

For all of those who served, the very best thanks I can give you is to try to live my life well.