Author: Kim du Toit
Another Brick In The Wall?
Texas Governor Greg Abbott signed a bill making Texas the first state in the union to give law enforcement officers the authority to arrest migrants who illegally enter the state.
I hope we have enough prison space, is all.
Or perhaps we could concentrate all these lawbreakers in, I dunno, camps of some sort?
Just thinking aloud here, Boss.
The “interesting” part is how the FedGov will react to this.
What Was The Middle Bit, Again?
Several people sent me reports on a stolen car being re-stolen while the first set of thieves was preparing to rob a business… I think I got that right.
That’s all funny and such, but this isn’t:
The suspects in custody are teenagers aged 14 and 15, according to a spokesperson for the department. Police retrieved a shotgun and a handgun from them, both of which were loaded.
14 and 15 years old?
WTF happened to baseball trading cards, smuggled Playboy magazines, fishing in some farmer’s river without permission, riding their bicycles at breakneck speed through the neighborhood, trying to peek up girls’ skirts, sneaking into a movie house without paying, and all the other naughty stuff boys of that age used to do?
They’ve gone from infancy to adulthood* without bothering with adolescence, FFS.
Anyway, the only charges they’ll likely face is car theft and underage weapons carry because it doesn’t seem that they ever got round to robbing the store.
Ordinarily, I’d say just give them a good spanking and send them home to Momma, but these little shits would probably end up firebombing the judge’s house in revenge.
I dunno. Back in the eighteenth century a kid (of any age) would get hanged for stealing a sheep or a horse, but even I think that’s a little harsh.
Unless the eighteenth-century kid was carrying a knife and stabbed the shepherd to death first — in which case I’d be the one applauding while the feral little shit was dancing his mid-air jig.
And that’s kind of how I feel about this modern scenario. If kids are seemingly prepared to dish out death to get what they want — and yes, the guns were loaded — it seems quite fitting for society to nip these little murderers’ careers in the bud, with extreme prejudice.
No doubt someone is going to have a problem with this argument.
Adolescence: the period between infancy and adultery.
The Name Thing
This one had me howling, in Comments:
Policy Change
As all Readers know, I prefer that comments be more or less attached to the post topic, because otherwise things can get out of control, and I lack the patience and good humor to keep going back to the thing to fix it up.
But I suspect that a lot of you would like to get things off your collective chest, and sound off about something that has irritated / angered / pleased / aroused you, whatever.
This has become evident in the popularity of “Open Post” features (Insty can get thousands of comments in his free-for-all posts, for example).
So from now on, I am declaring my News Roundup posts to be open for all or any comments, regardless of topic. As you know, they appear every Tuesday and Friday, so each week you get two whacks of the axe, so to speak. (If you have trouble logging in to comment, let me know by email; I’ll pass it on to TSII, and he will get to it as time permits.)
Enjoy — I’m not going to censor or delete anything, unless it’s completely horrible or egregious ad hominem attacks on other Readers (my back porch, my judgment, no appeal). I think you all know my limits by now, so it should be easy.
And FFS, please don’t use this freedom to try to fuck me over, because that will not end well (for you).
Today’s Earworm
From old rock band Sweet, all about changes.
I actually met the vocalist/lead guitarist (with the long silver hair, can’t remember his name) at the King’s Arms in Wiltshire with The Englishman.
I think the song is about his dealing with cancer, because apparently he died of it not long ago.
Or it could be about his getting married to some hottie in Vegas immediately after hearing the diagnosis — it’s difficult to tell, because he had a fantastic sense of humor. Lovely man: quiet, unassuming, just an ordinary bloke whose band made it big and never let it get to his head.
I’m grateful for this opportunity to voice a question which has nagged me for many years: is Kim Du Toit really an American?
Look, I know you faced the choice: legally immigrate to America or be beaten to death in a cargo container. Anyone who has not faced that situation has no standing to say which is the moral choice. Nevertheless, your choice is questionable.
No reasonable person can doubt your commitment to constitutional, republican governance; to the public order so essential to the thriving of civilization; to entrepreneurship and the creative power of capital; to national defense; and ultimately to the rights and prerogatives of the individual.
However, you have certain… cosmopolitan tendencies, which cast doubt on your true allegiance. You have traveled to England and maybe even to Stockholm; places where child molesters are tolerated. We patriotic, heartland Americans might overlook such peccadilloes… except for one thing.
We can’t pronounce your name. Americans have made no secret of this: we cannot hear or pronounce French vowels or terminal consonants, and we understandably become violent when anybody points this out.
Previous generations of immigrants had the good sense to Americanize their names, is all I’m saying.
All good stuff, and it gave me much amusement. Let me take them in reverse order. Firstly, here’s the story of the name.
When I became a U.S. citizen — I mean, on the very day I was sworn in — I was asked if I wanted to change my name.
It was the first I’d heard of this option; nobody had ever told me I could do it when I became a citizen. All I had to do was give a new name right there, and that would be the one on my passport and naturalization certificate (and SocSec database, automatically).
Had I changed it — one option was “Dalton” because it sorta sounds like “Doo-twah” and had two syllables, but I needed to think about it — it’s a big deal, changing one’s name — and I had to make a decision right there and then.
So I didn’t.
And lo and behold, I found over time that people liked it — they said it sounded really cool and exotic — and it was quite a hit with the ladies, along with this kinda-fake Brit accent that I picked up at school.
Interestingly enough, when I asked both my American wives (Son&Heir’s mom, and Connie) if they wanted to keep their respective surnames instead of being saddled with this strange French thing, they not only refused, but refused loudly and emphatically. (New Wife, when I asked her the same question, just gave me That Look so I changed the subject hastily.)
As to the other charges:
However, you have certain…cosmopolitan tendencies, which cast doubt on your true allegiance. You have traveled to England and maybe even to Stockholm; places where child molesters are tolerated. We patriotic, heartland Americans might overlook such peccadilloes…
(I chuckle helplessly again, even as I type this.)
I realize that the charge of “cosmopolitanism” is a serious one, especially to Middle America (the class to which I aspire, and the one with which I identify the most strongly).
But FFS, just because I speak several other languages that most Murkins can’t, and I like visiting foreign lands, and can tell the difference between Baroque- and Norman architecture, and likewise between Academy- and Romantic art, and Chopin and Schubert’s music, does this make me less American?
I even admit to preferring croissants over Wonder Bread, sausage rolls over hot dogs, and Victoria sponge cake instead of apple pie. (I draw the line at BBQ, however: no other food can compare.)
And I’m really sorry, but Wadworth 6X is just a better goddamn beer than fucking Budweiser or Coors.
Frankly, I think that Americans could do with a little more cosmopolitanism, if for no other reason than to break the bonds of bullshit American marketing of mediocre/awful products like the above (and let’s not forget “American” cheese, which is truly fucking horrible and no man should).
And I’m happy to do my bit to advance that cause, on these here pages and on this back porch of mine.
By the way: I’ve never been to Stockholm, and I think child molesters should be burned at the stake, after extensive torture.