A bit over a century ago, ships approached Japan and entered the feudal society there.  Post WW2, Japanese learned from their invaders (that’s what we were to them) and started producing and perfecting that which was obtained from the rest of the world.  I heard a Japanese describe that they are not developers, they are perfectors.  It went like this: “Germany built a watch, we now build a better watch.  England built a car, we now build a better car”.  Their society discourages innovation, but encourages perfection.  There is a saying – “the nail that sticks up, gets the hammer” and from the earliest school, all kids are to be dressed alike in uniform for school with hair neatly and uniformly trimmed as well.

Their society looked at the outer world, adopted what seemed usable, and advanced thereby.  They have also looked at the outer world and noted a cancer and adopted a model chemotherapy.  With h/t to Theospark:

Concludes Komiso Yogi of the University of Tokyo: “…The prevailing and widely accepted opinion in Japan is that Islam is an extremely narrow-minded and repressive religion which needs to be ostracized and kept at arm’s length…”

Now you know why we never heard of any Islamic terror in Japan.

(Emphasis mine)

Our first military heroes were pinned related to efforts fighting muslims.  Look up the Barbary wars with the years 1805 and 1815.  History is not taught in school because certain things would then make sense, like, not allowing muslims into society where they can spread their philosophical cancer.  Japanese success in this regard is not touted, because the lesson taught doesn’t fit SJW norms.  It goes against the lie of multicultural presentations.  It actually shows the truth, so must be ignored.  I guess that’s why I prefer blogs.  Little nuggets of truth can pass the main stream propaganda censors.

For those who don’t think animals have any emotions, I present this little video. It has a bird reacting to the loss of his mate that is being wrapped for removal by the human.  As limited as a bird is, the response is clear.

I do forms quite frequently at work.  We have to fill out questionnaires and verify information from the medical record for insurance companies, other doctors, pharmacies, government agencies, etc.  We have to interpret these forms and make the information from our medical records fit whatever questions are asked.  I became aware that the politically correct equivalent of dog fertilizer was evident on a form received the other day.

Let me say that when I was a kid, there were individuals with XX chromosomes and individuals with XY chromosomes.  Those with XX were expected to wear a bra when puberty hit.  Those with XY were expected to keep their hair at a short length.  Yes, I grew up in a rather conservative location.  Men were expected to open and hold the door, and kids were expected to obey adults- not just parents.  Any infraction at school would also be visited again at home.  There was a definite appreciation for structure of who the man and woman were and their job descriptions.  Kids had their positions as well.  Reminders were received by anyone from the parents, teachers, neighbors and even strangers.  That has been lost.  Maybe not lost, but rather destroyed with systematic messages from the media and application of destructive policies of the government.

We are now in the state where I have a form to be answered containing a box with the following items: male, female, other, unknown.  If someone is ignorant of what God placed there, therapy is needed, not an additional check box.

Many moons ago, I worked in a facility on second shift.  I would start during the nice daylight, and finish at black of night.  On this particular night, we had one of “those nights” and I had a piece of song going through my head on the way out the door.  Granted, I didn’t know the song, just heard the commercial with the line, “Oh, what a night.  Late in December, back in sixty-three.”  That is all I knew of the song as that is what was on the commercial.  Anyways, a coworker asked how it went, and I pined the opening of that line – “oh what a night.”  The coworker paused a moment and asked, “You realize that song is talking about sex?”  (deer in the headlights)  I haven’t used it since.

The present office at which I work plays a rock station almost constantly.  There is a song “Hot blooded” which has a line “I’m hot blooded, can’t you see.  I got a fever of a hundred and three.”  I hear that and immediately think: acetaminophen 650mg and a cool shower.  Considering the rest of the song, I would say skip the Tylenol and make the shower cold.

It is with extremely mixed emotions that I announce the roadway participation of our latest project.  We bought a trailer frame a couple of years ago and have been slowly building an enclosed trailer on top.  The purpose of this is to get all of the Samson stuff out of the house and make it usable to travel.  Kidinbox needed assistance with moving stuff and an enclosed trailer filled the bill – so to speak.  We put in extra hours, worked with headlamps and I even did a little in the mornings prior to going to work.  At 0 dark thirty, the trailer became usable on the road.  It isn’t finished, of course, but all the items needed for the road were done.  After all that, kidinbox and fiancee were the ones to take the trailer on its maiden voyage.  That meant we didn’t get to test out the results of our labors, ensure all the problems were ours to fix, and take care of them.  Someone else had to find whatever may be lurking in the unfixed category.  I’m awaiting report.  Anyways, here are a couple pictures of the trailer as it left this morning:

Trailer 5 trailer 1

From across the pond:  King George V announced that a two-minute silence would be observed in 1919, four days before the first anniversary of Armistice Day. The silence continues to be observed every year on the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month

From the front line.   Note the reference to disbelief of the end of hostilities.

I have to work today.  We are not taking a day off for this memorial.  That’s kind of sad in a way.  Those who gave their all deserve to be remembered as we are living in the glory bought by their blood.

I get up before the birds.  That is the time for Bible reading and music practice, and a bit of breakfast, and whatever else stimulates the dendrites.  During the usual routine, nature called and I went back into the bedroom to utilize the facilities.  The shocking occurrence was just on step inside the door where my foot encountered Batman’s call of nature.  After cleaning up, picking up, running the vacuum, running the shampooer, I am standing in the shower thinking, “it’s Monday.”  On recounting this tale at work, there was the felt need to wash my foot again…


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