Stockholm Syndrome, internet-style

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This is Stockholm, and you likely live there. It’s cold.

THE INTERNET is a vital element of our lives, and it affects the way we think in a major way.

As most everyone knows, mega-businesses like Facebook, Twitter, Google, YouTube (owned by Google), LinkedIn and many more embrace the ideology of the radical left. And they use their stunningly wide reach to indoctrinate nonsense and censor while simultaneously enriching themselves.

They are smart people. The left is far smarter than the right, which is often boneheadedly stupid and walks straight into the clutches of the left.

Since leftists control academia, much of business, all of entertainment and, of course, the internet,* they directly or indirectly influence the thought processes of everyone, even conservatives who should know better.

I think we’re looking at a sort of Stockholm Syndrome. I’ll assume you know what this is. If not, click on the link.

How else to explain the conservatives’ blind spots on vital issues.

  1. Conservatives, with some exceptions (me being one), persist in referring to leftists as “liberals” and “progressives,” which is arrant nonsense. I am fond of Dennis Prager’s quote: The usurpation of the word “liberal” by the left has been a catastrophe. Even conservative firebrands like Ann Coulter often refer to leftists as liberals and progressives. Shame on her.
  2. Conservative news websites such as Breitbart, The Washington Times, The Daily Caller, Ben Shapiro’s The Daily Wire, well, pretty much everyone, place links on their sites to “share” on Facebook, Twitter, Google, LinkedIn, etc. Even though there are numerous, new, conservative alternatives to those public-relations mouthpieces for the Democrat Party, the conservative sites snooze in the leftists’ beds and plug them daily. Shameful.

I’m guessing that you too suffer from Stockholm Syndrome, internet-style. I would wager my wages that you have a Facebook account, probably Twitter too. You know they are evil, but you cannot pull yourself away because your friends are there, your “friends” too. And all those cute videos of puppies.

Oh, the flowers and recipes!

You know that if you switch to up-and-coming alternatives, especially those devoted to free speech and that don’t sell your data, and you invite your friends to follow you there that they will not. They cannot. They’re caught in Stockholm.

The Masters of the Universe, as the leftist social media are accurately labeled, maintain that position due to the massive number of accounts they possess and profit from. If one of those accounts is yours, you reside in snowy Stockholm.

Like it or not, know it or not, there is a war under way. The violence level currently is low, but it will escalate. When the war is done, and we are victorious as we will be, there will be consequences.

At best, you will be paraded through the streets with your head shaved. At worst, you will be shot. Avoid this. Free yourself. Choose a side.

Don’t be a collaborator.

* * * *

* But not the White House, much to their endless horror.

The file man

I’VE MAINTAINED a file cabinet for decades. I find filing satisfying. When I left Houston, I culled wildly, keeping just the bare bones, which I packed over the Rio Bravo.

new-imageI bought a new file cabinet, resuming the habit.

I have insurance files (one for homes, one for cars), bank files (two banks), investment files, three house files (two here, one in Mexico City), receipt file, tourism file, health file, and many more.

But my favorite is the Miscellaneous File where I keep stuff that doesn’t belong elsewhere. Yesterday, killing time at home due to having a cold, I opened Miscellaneous.

It’s a trip down Memory Lane.

  1. Press passes with mug shots. One from my first job, New Orleans. I’m clean-shaven, 24 years old, in a dress shirt and tie. Another for the San Juan Star. I’m 30, My collar is open, and I have Fu Manchu mustache. The third, Houston Chronicle, age 39, shows me in a dress shirt and tie but with the full black beard of a Hells Angel.
  2. Expired passports. Two U.S. and one Mexican. The older U.S. passport shows me in eyeglasses. That’s a no-no now. Both Mexican and U.S. passports were renewed this year, likely for the last time. I’m not immortal.
  3. Air Force shoulder patch. It’s a large circle that says F-106 Dart. The Delta Dart was an interceptor aircraft, and I maintained survival-equipment pods in the ejection seats. Had I not screwed up so much of my youth, I would have been flying the F-106 instead.
  4. A bookmark. On textured blue paper and inscribed with a haiku of my father’s: cajun cabin/the aroma of hot gumbo/floats on the bayou. His name, dates, and the phrase American Haiku Master, which he was.
  5. Air Force discharge. Two versions. One suitable for framing, and the other with dates and mumbo-jumbo.
  6. new-imageA watercolor sketch. Of me, done by local artist Arturo Solis. He just walked over and handed it to me one day years ago while I was on the plaza enjoying a cafecito. We have a number of his works hanging on our walls.
  7. Drug formula. For committing suicide. You never know when it may come in handy. The Hemingway method is messy. Anyway, I don’t own a shotgun.
  8. Texas driver’s license. I arrived with it. It expired six years later, and I never renewed. My DL now is Mexican.
  9. Solo certificate. On the 28th day of June, 1976, I took off alone and returned to the New Orleans Lakefront Airport in a Cessna 152. Suitable for framing. I don’t fly anymore.
  10. A love note. From my wife on my birthday in 2003. We had been married almost 18 months.
  11. Final electric bill. Houston, dated Jan. 8-12, 2000. Amount: $86.02 for just four days 16 years ago. That’s approximately what I pay now in a year at the Hacienda.
  12. Certification card. International Bartending Institute. Dated May 7, 1982. I am a certified bartender. Whoopee!
  13. Flying license. I became a pilot of small planes on Oct. 26, 1976. The license never expires. You do have to renew your medical certificate, however. The last medical expired June 1, 1978. There’s also a radio permit in the envelope.
  14. Cremation certificate. My mother was cremated on Jan. 8, 2009, at Atlanta Crematory Inc. in Stone Mountain, Georgia. She had made it to age 90.
  15. Divorce papers. I had them in this file until fairly recently, but I tossed them into the trash. Two divorces. Two utterly miserable experiences that I’ll never repeat. I would prefer the Hemingway solution.

If you got all the way down here, you deserve a Gold Medal. I also have a Letters file.

Maybe I’ll spill that here some day. That’s where the love notes are stored. I love love letters.

Top of the world

roofABOUT 8 A.M., I climbed to the roof of the Hacienda with my camera. It was cool and nice.

The days are getting noticeably shorter. It’s still raining every day, but I’m optimistic that will be ending soon. Been raining daily since June, so we’re ready for the seven-month breather. We are very wet.

Thinking on it the other day, it occurred to me that every American I know of down here, either personally or online, is beyond happy to be living in Mexico. I cannot say the same for those above the Rio Bravo where the citizenry seems to be in constant turmoil — doubt, worry and anger.

Comments on news websites, when Mexico is the topic, almost universally reflect an intense dislike of my new nation. If it’s a right-wing news source such as Breitbart, illegal aliens are the cause. If it’s a left-wing website like HuffPost, they think we’re all living in abject poverty and corruption.

Well, think what you want. I love every morning, afternoon and evening of this place.

But I am ready for the rain to peter out.