Almost every speech or article by Victor Davis Hanson is worth one’s attention, but his speech on George S. Patton is absolutely filled with all sorts of relevance in today’s society.
Specifically, VDH comments on the unease with which civilized societies view (and treat) their warriors — and he’s absolutely correct. (By the way, the sainted Omar Bradley doesn’t come out very well, which alone makes it worth watching.)
(You only have to watch the first 40 minutes or so to get the full flavor.)
This kind of thing gets up my nose — not the action itself, but the description thereof:
Lewis Capaldi has been praised for his heroic actions after rushing to help an elderly woman who had collapsed on Hampstead Heath in north London.
The singer, 27, was out with friends on the heath when he spotted the woman lying on the ground before dashing to her aid on Wednesday.
Onlookers in the area revealed that Lewis called the emergency services and stayed with her until they arrived to help.
Were his actions praiseworthy? Of course — but then again good grief, what kind of person would leave an old woman lying on the ground, in obvious distress?
But “heroic”? I don’ theenk so, Simon.
Had the old lady been attacked by three “teenagers” and Capaldi stepped in to help her: yes, now that’s heroic.
But just rendering assistance? That falls under “doing the right thing” and “civic duty”.
Headline hyperbole: I fucking hate it.
Indulge me please, O Gentle Readers, while I recount my activities last Friday. They were nothing special, but there were a couple of highlights.
Woke up a little late after a night which featured “episodic sleep” — other Olde Pharttes will know whereof I speak — and finally fell into some proper sleep at about 5am.
Got up, did the usual Morning Stuff (Rx, urination etc.) and staggered out of the bedroom to make the morning coffee. Debated about the gin, decided against it as I’d taken New Wife out for a Birthday Dinner the night before, and drunk perhaps a leetle too much sangria. (Everything in moderation, that’s me.)
Coffee in hand, I discovered lying on my keyboard an empty bottle of some female facial cleansing lotion, and a plaintive note asking me to get her a fresh bottle.
Excellent: a reason to get out of the house and do some husbandly / housekeeping duties — some groceries, fill the car, nothing special.
On the way out of the apartment complex parking lot, I saw something unusual: a decently-styled American car: I think it was a Buick, but as far as I’m aware they (like Lincoln) don’t make passenger sedans anymore, and the badge was too small for me to make the model out, whatever it was, but then again I’m not in the market for anything like that so I pootled out over the irritating speed bumps [1,000-word angry rant omitted].
Decided on Wal-Mart, simply because they’re just up the road and as I said, I needed to refill the Tiguan and their gas is reasonably priced.
I turned left across the traffic, and noted that there was an oncoming car just down the road, but the speed limit is 35mph, so plenty of room. Except that he wasn’t doing 35 or anything close to it, so he swerved out of my lane and rocketed past me, shaking his fist (!) as he went by.
I had one of my quiet conversations at that point: “I’m sorry; did I make you late for your appointment at the next traffic light?”
As it happened, I didn’t; but he was right on time for the cop doing the speed trap a block or so away. So that ended well.
Went into Wal-Mart and got all the necessary things on the list — but before checking out, I stopped by the self-service lottery machine to make my weekly pension contribution. As any fule kno, these contraptions do not give change, and all I had was a $20.
So I went over to the little in-house bank to get some change, only to be told that they don’t do that kind of thing unless the supplicant has an account with them. “Well, I don’t have an account with you, and probably won’t ever in the future,” I replied, and went over to the Customer Service Desk.
Only to be told that they cannot open the register drawer unless “there’s a cash transaction”.
Another man may have exploded with rage at this point, but I decided to be a better man than that. So I went back into the store itself and left my shopping cart in the clothing section, where it wouldn’t be spotted immediately — said shopping cart containing two cartons of expensive ice cream, a quart of yogurt, a frozen pizza and some fresh fruit.
Got into the car and decided to go to my old neighborhood Kroger instead, where everybody knows my name (I’ve been shopping there for well over twenty years, and the only reason I hadn’t gone there in the first place was because it’s about three miles away from the apartment AND it lies on the other side of some serious road repair works).
So I went where everybody knows my name — and where quite a few people know everybody else’s name, to judge from the odd person chatting to another in the parking lot. Took an old lady’s cart from her just as she’d finished unloading it, getting a grateful “You’re my hero! Thank you!” which made me feel quite better about my world.
Went into Kroger, got all the stuff I’d left in the cart at Wal-Mart plus a few other impulse items, and went over to the Customer Service Desk’s Jeanelle, who not only gave me change upon request, but got me my lottery tickets from their machine. (She has a lovely singing voice, by the way: one of those deep, rich gospel/soul ones, which I’d heard on a previous trip. She is also one of the few people who has ever tripped me up on musical trivia, in that she knew the correct release date of Stevie Wonder’s album Songs In The Key Of Life.)
Checked out using the self-service aisle (I only go full service if I’ve got a large full cart, and that in the interests of speed), waved good-bye to Angela the supervisor, waved to Debbie the front-end manager on my way out, and after loading up the Tiguan, filled up at the pump using my Kroger Fuel Points (11c off per gallon when buying more than 8 gallons).
Got back home — the ?Buick? was no longer there for me to see what it actually was, so I filed that under “Unimportant Shit” and forgot about it.
Net result of the day: considerable personal satisfaction (mission accomplished, grocerywise; watched an asshole get a speeding ticket; denied Wal-Mart some profit both from an unrealized transaction plus — I hope — some spoiled unsellable foods, as well as having my gas money go to their competitor).
And I got to interact with people that I don’t really know, but had only pleasant experiences with. On a warm autumn day (no a/c needed in the car) in north Texas.
Not too bad, all things considered.
Whenever a young girl is raped or otherwise molested by some asshole, I always ask: “Where are her brothers? Her cousins? Her uncles?”
Well, in Swedishland (of all places), the answer is: “Present”.
A Swedish girl of 16 has been accused of luring a taxi driver into a secluded forest and killing him in revenge for allegedly raping her when she was 14.
She and her four brothers, aged between 16 and 18, are on trial accused of murdering the 26-year-old man.
The four brothers deny all charges against them, but the girl admitted that she lured him to the secluded area, thinking he would be beaten up.
The girl allegedly texted the taxi driver, who has not been named, asking him to meet her with a bottle of vodka in a car park near the Hjälstaviken nature reserve in southeast Sweden in March.
After the pair met, the four brothers allegedly then strangled the man and hanged him with a noose made up of rope that they brought with them.
Sounds terrible, huh? Consider this, though:
Prosecutors in Sweden’s Uppsala District Court said that the main motive for the alleged murder was revenge, as the girl had made a report about the driver allegedly raping her in February last year which was not followed up on.
The brothers reportedly told several of their friends that they would be killing a rapist, and later told them that they had done so.
And the fuzz?
Andreas Pallinder, head of investigations at the Uppsala police, admitted that his force should’ve taken the rape report seriously.
No shit, Inspector Lestrade. If you had, the late asshole rapist would still be alive and in jail.
Instead, the wrong people will now most likely be the ones behind bars.
As we all know: when law enforcement doesn’t enforce the law, there’s always the possibility that the people will take over. As they did in this case.
Looks like the Izzies have got the bit between their teeth:
The Israeli Air Force (IAF) destroyed the Islamic University of Gaza — dropping bombs on what the Israeli military said was a training hub for engineers who helped carry out terrorist attacks.
The Israel Defense Force (IDF) confirmed the bombing, saying the university served as “an important center of political and military power” for Hamas and a “training institution for the development and production of weapons,” The Times of Israel reported.
Sorta like the West Point of Muslim Terrorism, huh? One can only hope that there were lots of casualties among both staff and students.
Keep it up, guys.
