On name-calling

THE UNSEEN MOON prides itself on decorum, a characteristic that slides further into disuse on a daily basis, not here, of course, but in the society at large.

The Moon soldiers on, however, in the old-fashioned way.

A commenter on the previous post cited name-calling and finger-pointing. It was a little vague, unclear as to whether I was the name-caller and finger-pointer or if the other commenters were the culprits.

Perhaps a bit of both.

callI confess to finger-pointing, which is to say: Lookee there! He (or she) is causing the problem. This is being judgmental, an admirable trait, especially when the judgments are the same as mine.

But I never name-call. Again, one man’s meat, as they say, is another man’s poison, so the nomenclature seen regularly here might possibly by considered name-calling by some folks.

Let’s look at three examples, my favorites:

1. Barry.  This is President Barack Hussein Obama, the lame-duck president. Barry was, perhaps still is, a nickname he used. I use it for only one purpose: to trivialize him. So sue me. I’m not a fan.

BarryOthers who dislike Barry refer to him as Hussein, or use his full name, including Hussein, because they want to give the impression that’s he’s a Mohammedan (more on Mohammedans down the line). I don’t think Barry is a Mohammedan, and I am pretty sure he was born in Hawaii.

He’s a lousy president.

2. Collectivists.  These are left-wingers, fans of Barry. Collectivism has its place, mostly when lots of people with ponytails join together to purchase organic foods at cheaper prices. Applying collectivism to government is a colossally bad idea. See Soviet Union, Red China and Cuba.

Those three communist despotisms are collectivism writ large, and you don’t want to even start down that road. Government should be small, not big. A side issue are labor unions which have, at times, a valuable place in this world. But only unions in the private sector. Government unions should be verboten, always.

3. Mohammedans. These are the followers of Mohammed, of course. Call it what you will. Islam. Muslim. I prefer Mohammedans for the same reason I favor Barry. There is a disparagement implied. I am not a fan of Mohammedanism, and you should not be either.

IslamWe are currently engaged in a 21st century religious war, and only one side fully understands — the Mohammedans. If you think otherwise, you are proving my point that only one side fully understands. Barry does not understand. Or collectivists in general. They live in a rainbow fog.

All Mohammedans are not terrorists, you say. That is true, but the vast majority either support the terrorists or are cowed into silence and submission. The “Arab street” exploded in jubilation on 9/11.

* * * *

Those terms are the usual extent of my name-calling. If you want something far nastier, go to Huffpost and leave a conservative comment on a story (any story, pick one), and you will get severe blowback. Collectivists have name-calling down to an everyday art. They simply curse a lot. I long for a kinder world.

Have a nice day.

A dog named Guts

Guts
This is Guts.

HE’S A GENTLEMAN, a scholar, a football player and a pooch. He goes by Guts.

He’s a gentleman because he doesn’t jump up on your leg. When he is outside my sister-in-law’s business, he only goes to the open entrance, no farther. He stops there and waits, one paw on the stoop.

He’s a scholar because he’s clearly intelligent, which is also why he’s a gentleman. Perhaps his formal schooling is deficient, making him not technically a scholar, but if you want smart, then Guts is your guy.

He’s a football player. Actually, it’s soccer because he lives in Mexico, but it’s not called soccer but football or rather futbol  in Spanish. Guts plays second fiddle on a two-man team.

The star player is my nephew who is 11. The two play on the sidewalk late in the evenings after the business has closed for the night. Guts is really into the game, playing with his paws, not technically kosher, of course.

Guts is a street fellow and needs a bath. You may wonder where he got the name of Guts. The daughter of one of my sister-in-law’s employees named him that. Actually, his name is Tripas, a Spanish word that means, well, Guts. It also means Intestines, but I favor Guts, don’t you?

It has more style.

Guts has guts because it requires guts to live on the street in Mexico and remain somewhat clean, especially when in your heart you’re a gentleman, a scholar and a football player.

Guts, a little guy, is also an optimist with a sunny disposition. I like him.