Understanding “Gender”

To properly understand the many different fantasy “genders” that have come about in recent years, a trip down etymology lane might be helpful:

“gender (n.)
c. 1300, “kind, sort, class, a class or kind of persons or things sharing certain traits,” from Old French gendre, genre “kind, species; character; gender” (12c., Modern French genre), from stem of Latin genus (genitive generis) “race, stock, family; kind, rank, order; species,” also “(male or female) sex,” from PIE root *gene- “give birth, beget,” with derivatives referring to procreation and familial and tribal groups. ”

When speaking of _mankind_**, then, one can speak now of three specific “genders”:

male
female
batsh*t crazy.

The last class is the catch-all for all the delusional folks who are in denial of reality and claim to be some weird fantasy “gender.”
___________________________

**”mankind” here is a poke in the eye to snowflake “batsh*t crazies”

The Reasons I Do Not Carry a Handgun

Sure, I have the right to carry openly or concealed (and I have), but there are several reasons why I do not normally, habitually, carry a handgun on my person.

I’m gettin’ old, folks. Arthritis and difficulty quickly transitioning between near and far make sighting/aiming and firing a handgun an exercise in “maybe accuracy,” and that’s just not good enough to assure NOT hitting what I do not want to.

I also live in one of the safest places in the world, safer from physical attacks on my person than almost anywhere else in America that has people in it. *heh* That means that others around me are also pretty darned unlikely to experience physical aggression initiated against them (by anyone other than law enFARCEment ossifers, that is).

Sidebar: perhaps one of the reasons it’s so safe here in America’s Third World County™ is that firearms of all kinds outnumber inhabitants by quite a healthy margin, and many folks do carry a handgun both openly and concealed. Gives me warm fuzzies. 🙂

The only reason I might carry a handgun, given my circumstances, would be if I were to go out walking in “snake country” or “feral pig country,” and in that case, I’d probably need to carry a S&W Governor loaded in alternate chambers with .410 gauge shotshells and .45 long colt (each for a different contingency). The .410 (loaded with birdshot, for snake use) would pretty much obviate concerns about really fine aiming, though I’d just have to hope for decent enough luck if a feral pig got his mad on.

Still, even in such cases, I’d probably prefer to keep my head on a swivel and note issues well enough in advance to back away from a venomous snake or take to a tree in case of a feral pig.

Racing Pell–Mell Toward Harrison Bergeron’s World. . .

Bedtime Stories Help Kids—So Ban Them?

Yeh, this sort of thing pops up in the Every Child Left Behind bunch every now and then. Key bots from the article:

“Evidence shows that the difference between those who get bedtime stories and those who don’t—the difference in their life chances—is bigger than the difference between those who get elite private schooling and those that don’t. . .

“This devilish twist of evidence surely leads to a further conclusion that perhaps—in the interests of leveling the playing field—bedtime stories should also be restricted. . . ”

And,

“I don’t think that parents reading their children bedtime stories should constantly have in their minds the way that they are unfairly disadvantaging other people’s children. . . ” but he does think that, from what is presented.

[N.B. The quoted material isn’t from the writer of the article at Intellectual Takeout but quoted from the article she references, Is having a loving family an unfair advantage?, a 2015 ABC, Australia, article..]

Yes, there really are people who seem to think that parents should be less loving and offer fewer opportunities for bonding and for intellectual stimulation to their children, because. . . reasons (that are inhuman and unimaginable by anyone who does very rightly care for their children).

Screw ’em with a rusty chainsaw. Do the right thing instead of listening to such monsters.

Gibberish, Gobbledegook, and Glop

Economics. *sigh* Just another field that HAS to use words in idiosyncratic ways in order to attempt to make its jargon less acceptable to the hoi polloi. Example: in common speech “rival” and “competitor” are synonyms. In Economics, however, a good (yeh, another one, but with strong etymological roots) is rival if its use or consumption by one party denies another party its use or consumption.

Fugetaboutit.

Tell Me About It. . .

. . . No, don’t. Really.

In another forum, after I had used “sic” correctly in quoting a text with an error, some lame brain just HAD to chime and tell me what it meant. . . while demonstrating they had not read the linked article from which the text was quoted AND saying incorrectly that the error I noted was a misspelling, when it was a correctly spelled word that was misused.

Well, the commenter learned a lesson, yeah, and hopefully two.

#gagamaggot

1. Never try to instruct someone on words when you don’t know what you are talking about. Instead, ask and learn. Or at least get a dictionary and learn how to use it. *duh*
2. If the quoted material that is from a larger text that’s available to you, READ THE LARGER TEXT before making a fool of yourself. If you then want to go ahead and make a fool of yourself anyway, be prepared to be “schooled.”

Something Different

I own a little revolver that is. . . different in several ways from the norm.

It’s a lil .32 ACP revolver that uses a round designed for .32 semi-automatics.

It is from a defunct maker of second-tier-quality knock-offs of other maker’s guns.

It’s a top-break revolver (semi-unusual nowadays).

It is one of very few the manufacturer made in this caliber with a six-round cylinder. By far, most of the .32 caliber revolvers made by this maker were 5-round.

Before it came to be in my possession, it had been fired only once, in 1929, by a man who committed suicide after the stock market crash. In the 84 years that intervened between that event and me coming into possession of the gun, no one else put a single round through it, and aside from two small spots of surface corrosion, the gun was in pristine condition, the bluing–apart from those two small spots–still perfect.

It’s a pretty good lil plinker, and ammo for the thing abounds, but I mostly just leave it cleaned, oiled, and in its case. I don’t really have a use for it aside from plinking, though I also have a nice lil IWB holster (that I picked up for ~$29 less than retail–$1–at my local “fell off the back of a truck” store) so I could, if I wanted, carry it concealed. . . if I wanted to, which–.32 ACP?–I do not.

The Essential Key to a Long, Healthy Life

Choose your grandparents wisely. *heh*

I am very fortunate to have only one prescription med. (At my age, that’s more than a bit atypical, I know; I’m very, very fortunate.) The thing is, my Wonder Woman is prescribed the same med, same dosage, as a part of her _wide array_ of prescription meds.

She gets all hers from a local pharmacy using her employer-provided health insurance prescription drug benefit. I make a trip ~15 miles out of town once a year to pick up a year’s supply (Yeh, I brow-beat my doctor into writing it for 360 tabs, which–given my roughly 80% compliance–means I have about eight months’ backup supply, after all these years on the same med) at a discount pharmacy, using no insurance.

My cost is 1/6 her cost, after her co-pay.

(The point isn’t where she likes to buy her prescription meds. It’s still pretty cheap, so I don’t really care where she buys her meds. Wherever she’s comfortable doing so is just fine by me. It’s her decision, after all, anyway.)

As I said up front, I consider myself VERY fortunate to only “require” one prescription med for a condition I could take care of myself, and used to, with about 20 minutes of slow, controlled breathing twice a day, but I told my doctor that was just boring and requested a chemical solution.

I took GREAT care selecting my grandparents. . .

All I really have to deal with concerning health issues are creeping arthritis and this damnable tinitus. Oh, well, for the one I can lie to myself and say that pain is just weakness leaving the body. It doesn’t work, but it makes me laugh at myself. For the other, well, I just call my tinitus “the voices in my head” (Oh! those dulcet, belltoned ‘voices’! #gagamaggot), and blame it for my various insanities.

*heh*

This is Emblematic of Contemporary Writing/Speech

One of the problems I see and hear in the speech and writing of contemporary native (ab)users of English is a baffling lack of an ability to grasp simple tenses. Example: Writing about an event in the past of a character,

“If he knew, he probably would think twice.”

#gagamaggot

No, “If he had known, he probably would have thought twice.”

OK, even that construction is a wee tad stupid as a statement, but at least it would have properly reflected the circumstances the writer attempted to convey. (Better: “In hindsight. . . ” but the writer’s vocabulary didn’t seem to stretch that far, if other text is any indication.)

The Father of Lies Approved Her Message

Yes, the “sainted mother of environmental activism,” Rachel Carson, killed millions of people by means of her lies.

But that’s the way of Satan (the devil, false accuser, traducer, slanderer) and his minions. Lies are always his and his children’s go-to tactic. Open members of the Church of Satan are mere posseurs compared to the average politician, “social justice warrior,” and others of their ilk, who will commit any lie, no matter how stupid, knowing it will obscure truth among the gullible and kill honest dialog, assasinate character, and even lead to massive numbers of deaths.

All in the service of the father of lies.

Reject lies and confront liars with the truth.