Sultan’s Story

God needed a sweet little kitten in Paradise. He looked down from heaven and saw Sultan, so full of love and sweetness, and decided to ask him if he would come with Him to Paradise.

“But my owner will be heart-broken if I go to live with You,” Sultan answered.

“Do not worry about your owner,” God replied, “when she knows that you have come to Paradise to be with Me, she will not be sad, for she knows that one day she will come to join you in My house. She will miss you, but she will know where you are, and she will be happy for you that you are with Me, for she will know that where you are, you are happy. She will know that you no longer feel any pain, and do not need to take pills anymore. I have heard her heart crying out to Me a thousand times to cure you of your illness so that you would no longer need to take pills, and she would no longer need to force you to.”

“I do not like taking pills, and I do not understand why I have to, but I know that if she makes me, there is a reason for it, and I still love her.”

“And that is why I need you in Paradise,” said God. “Because even though you do not understand the reason why you must experience unpleasantness, you trust and you continue to love where others might have become bitter. Your ability to love and to trust is much needed in Paradise. Your owner will understand that. This I promise you. And I promise you also that before long, you will be reunited with her in My house. This I also promise you.”

Sultan thought a bit and then asked, “Will I be able to come back to live with her if she misses me too much, or if I don’t like living in Paradise?”

“Alas no,” God replied sadly. “Once you are in Paradise, you cannot go back to the world of the living. But I also promise you that you will be happy in Paradise and that she will be happy for you. In time she will adjust to living without you around to cuddle and stroke, and the pain of your loss will fade.”

“But then she will forget me!!!” Sultan replied in alarm. “I have worked too hard to make her love me to go away and let her forget me!!”

God smiled at the little cat’s alarm.

“Do not worry little Sultan,” He said, “ she will never forget you. And she will never stop loving you. And while you may not come back to the world of the living, you will not be far from her. You see Paradise exists everywhere. It touches and surrounds the world of the living. It is only because they cannot see it that the living are not aware of it. For to see it, you need eyes of faith and a heart of love. And you need the trust of a child, or of a loving kitten. Your owner knows it is there, my sweet little Sultan. And she will know that you are still there, right beside her, even if she cannot see you with her physical eyes, for she will feel your presence with her heart. Do not worry little Sultan, she will not stop loving you.”

Sultan thought some more before asking, “Why not let her come with me? Then we would not have to be separated.”

God shook his head and said, “I still have things for her to do amongst the living, and your brother also still needs her there with him. And no, sweet Sultan, his day for Paradise has not come yet either. I need him to stay with her in the land of the living for a while longer. But you I need in Paradise today.”

“Then may I at least wait for her to come home before I leave, so that I may say good-bye?” Sultan asked God.

God shook his head again. “I am afraid that you must come now. The need for a kitten of your qualifications in Paradise is so great that it cannot be put off for even a few hours, and before you even ask, my dear little Sultan, no, there are no other kittens in the land of the living who can fill the spot in Paradise. Therefore you must come.”

“But I cannot leave her just like that,” Sultan protested.

“She will understand, my little one. And I will not leave her alone to face it. I will send someone she already knows to support and comfort her, and she will know that I have called you and that you have come with me. And he will remain with her as long as she needs him to. In fact, he will not leave her.”

Sultan thought it through thoroughly. On the one hand, he did not want to leave his owner, for he knew she needed him to love her. But on the other hand, God needed him desperately in Paradise. Then he remembered that his owner had always said that you must do what God asks of you, even if you didn’t really want to, because God had a plan and we were all part of it. What all of this meant, Sultan could not understand. He was after all only a little kitten with a heart full of love. He had never expected to find himself talking with God. But he knew that doing what God asked of him was the right thing, because his owner had said so many times. And he knew that when his owner got home and saw that he had done what God asked of him, she would be proud of him. And God had promised that they would not be separated from each other forever, after all. One day, they would all be reunited.

Sultan, the brave little cat that he was, made his decision.

He said to God, “I will die right now and come with you God, because you have need of me in Paradise.”



The Mandela Effect and How it Does Not Apply to Nazi Internment Camps

I don’t ascribe to the Mandela Effect as a way of explaining why a memory may not match up with a current reality. We all have brain farts; those moments when, through distraction or something else, the brain doesn’t process information correctly. To me, the reason so many people probably believed Mandela died in jail was simply because, while he was in jail, they heard a rumor to that effect. Maybe, they even saw something about it on the news. Their brain responded by filing Nelson Mandela under ‘deceased’, and they didn’t bother thinking of it anymore. Later on, the rumors were proven false, but their brain still kept the folder labelled ‘Mandela – Deceased’ somewhere in its depths, and failed to update it. It happens all the time. Your brain remembers that you put your keys on the table, but forgets to update that information when you pick them up and put them in your pocket.

Even though the Mandela Effect affected thousands of people, it is explicable as a simple trick of the mind. A rumor imprinting itself in your brain as an actual fact. It happens all the time. I once worked with a young woman who, when she changed departments, changed her name, too. This was done in order to avoid confusion when taking customer calls, as there was already someone in that department with the same name. Well, to make it brief, my brain split her into two people, and it was not until the day that I actually had to think of her as single person, with a specific face and name, that I realized I’d done it.

All that said, I suddenly feel like I’ve fallen down the rabbit hole and come out in a weird version of Wonderland.

You see, when I was growing up, the idea of Nazi concentration camps was widely met with skepticism. Jewish organizations were lobbying governments and international organizations in the hopes of getting someone, somewhere, to recognize the fact that these places had actually existed. Practically the whole world responded with a ‘Pffft! Bullshit!’. As far as I knew, my mother and father were the only people who actually acknowledged that there had been such places, and that was because my grandfather had actually seen one while serving on the eastern front.

No, my grandfather had not seen mile-high smokestacks belching out greasy, black smoke. What he encountered was a man in an inmate’s uniform tending the flowers around the camp. My grandfather loved flowers, so he approached the man and asked him about the ones he was taking care of. The man, without displaying any overt signs that might betray the fact that my grandfather had actually spoken to him, said very quietly, ‘Don’t talk to me. If you do, you’ll end up in here, too.’

So we knew that labor camps had existed, and that they were not places filled with happy people. That simply could not be denied, and we, a German ex-pat family, were going against the social grain in acknowledging the fact.

Then something happened. I think it was the UN recognizing the reality of labor camps in Nazi Germany that did it. Suddenly, it was all about ‘death camps’, and six million Jewish people being slaughtered. Overnight, history was rewritten. I mean that both literally and figuratively. The facts in history books were changed, so that this was now the central focus of WWII history. Books that said otherwise, books that had been written before this change, started to become hard to find. William Shirer, one of the last western reporters to remain inside the Third Reich, and to report the news from within the country, had his reputation attacked and his famous book ‘The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich’ dissed and disparaged. New ‘historians’ began to crop up who used a thousand pages trying to find solid evidence that Hitler was Antisemitic, and ending up only being able to present what the author believed Hitler must have been secretly thinking to himself as he performed various actions.

An important digression: In the three decades immediately following the war, it was widely held by historians that Hitler was not Antisemitic. The evidence supports this. When someone pointed out that his favorite cook was Jewish, he simply declared that, as of that moment, the cook was no longer Jewish. Problem solved. There were also other Jewish people on his personal staff, and half-Jews served high up in the military and SS. Historians believed that Hitler’s Antisemitism was a political tool. Too many people have conveniently forgotten that in Europe between the two world wars, Antisemitism had become quite a fashionable ideological stance. Hitler had to tap into that in order to gain and keep support. End of digression.

The point is, instead of acknowledging labor camps, an entirely new narrative was formed in/around the mid 1970s. The old understanding was simply wiped out, as if it had never been. We now had to deal with the number of six million Jews dead, as if it were an indisputable fact.

My parents now went from ‘labor camps really DID exist’, to ‘there weren’t even that many Jews in Europe when the war broke out!’

This cannot be a simple case of the Mandela Effect, where a number of people, even a very large number of people, are remembering things incorrectly. There is still too much evidence proving the change in the narrative, and too many people still alive who remember how history has been literally changed. Even if I find myself doubting my own memories at times, I find other people who remember how it was, and who are equally concerned about how the original narrative is being written over by a new one. If the new one were the correct one, an updating would be in order. But to wipe out the original narrative and make it look as if it never existed? This is something to be concerned about. In fact, we should have raised the alarm bell a long time ago.

Yes, as Winston Churchill said, ‘History is written by the victors’. But when history is being rewritten yet again, decades after the fact, and countries imprison people who dare to point it out, there is something very, very wrong. A new cult is emerging, some people say. The cult of the Holocaust. And, guess what? I hate cults. I really do. Poking around into them and going ‘tsk, tsk’ is one of my stranger hobbies. So, ladies and gentlemen, I think I have an investigation here, and it will probably end badly for me, as things have a habit of doing.


Image: // public domain

This was originally published on my other blog at steemit

The Day a Jewish Kid Played the Role of Kaiser Wilhelm – A High School Memory

The highlight of our high school’s academic year was always the elite World History class(es) ‘Who Started WWI’ debate.  The debate was a closed-door event, but we all waited breathlessly for daily updates and the final result.  It was a major event.  One could even say it was legendary.  Year after year, the World History class battled it out.

Finally, we were seniors, and it was our turn at the event.  Not everyone; just those of us who had the academic chops to be accepted into the World History class.  Some years that group was small, and there was only one class.  Other years, there could be two classes – but that was very, very rare.

When the day came to choose who would represent which country, the teacher read out the names of those students in his class whom he believed had the academic strength to lead teams into the debate.  My name was one of the ones read out.  The next step in the process was deciding who would represent which country.  I was determined to be the one who would take Germany, going into the debate.

“Germany is going to be a hard position to represent,” the teacher advised us.  He then continued, “I recommend a person like XYZ take it.”

XYZ was not me.  Still, it was not the end.  We were free to pick our countries, and I was going to defend Germany, come hell or high water.

Now we came the actual selections.  Despite the teacher’s recommendation, XYZ went the easy route, and choose Britain.  One by one, the countries were taken, and still no one picked Germany.  At last, my chance to choose came along.

“I want Germany,” I said.  The whole class broke into a sort of good-natured laughter.  I was, after all, the only student in the class who was of actual German parentage.  However, the issue still remained, was I strong enough to take a team in under the German flag?  A mini-debate broke out about it.  The teacher had recommended… but… who?… .  I parried them all.  One after another, I fielded the questions, and provided rebuttals.  At last it was over.  The matter was settled.

“If you can debate like,” said one of my classmates as they ceded the issue, “you really are the best one to represent Germany.”

I had won.  I would take Germany into the famous World History class ‘Who Started WWI’ debate.

But, there was one last country to be selected.  Russia had not yet found a champion.  There was one last captain available, and he gladly took it on.  He liked taking things nice and easy, and, well, had left his selection to fate.

The Next Hurdle

The next hurdle we faced was building our teams.  As you can imagine, some teams were easier to build than others.  When it came to building a team to represent Germany, it became almost impossible.  No one wanted to be on what was presumed would be the losing team.

‘So, who cares?’ I told myself.  ‘I will do all the work.  I just need some bodies to fill the seats beside me, and I know how to get them.’

Yes, I knew.  I would find out who had not yet been selected for one of the other teams, and offer them an enticing deal to come and join mine.  The deal?  ‘I’ll do all the work, you just have to sit there and play your role.’  So I started with the guy sitting next to me, a diminutive sort-of-once-upon-a-time-Jew.  Yes, in those days he was hard to categorize.  His mother had divorced and remarried a non-Jewish husband, and he had decided that this made him no longer Jewish.  Just like that.  From Jew to non-Jew overnight.  At that moment in time, he was identifying as a non-Jew.  His self-identification was still fluid in those days.  But… .

He wanted more.  What more could I offer?  In desperation, I told him, ‘You can take the role of Kaiser Wilhelm’.

I now had the first member of my team, courtesy of bribery.

I still needed two more people, though.  I approached another abandoned soul, another person of Jewish roots who had found herself without a ride for the debate, and added another member to the team.

There was still one spot, and I was determined to fill it.  I consulted with Kaiser Wilhelm about the individual I had in mind.  ‘Nah.  She’s just tits and ass, and no f*cking brain,’ he opined.  ‘Who cares?’ I advised, in my role as Chancellor Bismarck, ‘We just won’t let her do anything.’

The Kaiser acceded, and I recruited what I believe to be the third Jewish member of my team.

Now some of you may yelp about the fact that Chancellor Bismarck was part of the team representation.  It was a special arrangement, given the official okay by our teacher.  The lead debaters needed to assume the personas of actual historical figures, and even though Bismarck was no longer Chancellor at the end of World War 1, it was decided that he could rise once again in order to defend his nation’s honor.

The Debate

We went into battle, and it was a hard-fought one.  The other teams came at us with every accusation in the book, and we parried them all.  The use of poison gas?  Well, we weren’t the only ones.  You guys used it on us, too.  Invading Belgium?  Hey, we DID send a message asking for permission to cross before we did it.  We had the proof in the form of a copy of the wire-message that we sent.  I reached for it from the stack of documents on the desk in front of me, pulled it out, and found out I had the wrong document.  A search was quickly made for the missing message, but we could not find it!  The teacher, thankfully, interceded and acknowledged the existence of the missive.

Then came the big one.  The one that the Kaiser and I had discussed in our pre-debate meetings.  The one question we could never find a suitable answer for: Why did Germany have a military-based economy?

The Kaiser stood up.  He would field the question personally.

‘Sure Germany had a military-based economy; but that doesn’t mean it was meant for war,’ he stated boldly.

The class keeled over laughing.  They laughed until they practically peed themselves.  When they finished laughing, they’d all forgotten that we’d never answered the question.  Seizing the opportunity, we moved the debate on to the next question.  The Kaiser and I, in fact everyone on our team, patted each other on the back after class that day.  We’d survived the A-bomb of debate questions thank to the Kaiser!

The debate ended, and the judges went into seclusion in order to discuss their findings.  When they emerged, the results were read out: Britain was found to be the least responsible for starting the war.  German was the second least responsible for starting the war, and it was a close second – in fact it had been a tie, which the rules did not permit.  To declare a winner, they’d had to resort to the technicality of the missing telegram. Then, at the end of it came the country named as most responsible for starting the first world war: Russia!

The Russian team immediately stood up and bowed.  They had come in last and were damned proud of it.

It is one of my best memories of high school.  Who could forget the day when one German and three Jews cleared Germany of war-guilt!  At a high school reunion twenty years later, I found out that one person could: the Kaiser!

‘Really?  I don’t remember that,’ he said, ‘Hard to believe a Jewish kid like me would do that.’



Photo: public domain /  Bain News Service – The Library of Congress – Kaiser Wilhelm (LOC) (pd).jpg


This is something that I uploaded to my Steemit ( account today.  Since no one reads it there, I’m sharing it here.

The Danger of Glorifying the ‘Traditional Family’

I want to address a certain danger that I am seeing, one that seems to be going completely unrecognized, mainly because we are too damned busy hiding under our beds, pointing terrified fingers at Islam and the prospect of Sharia law invading our western countries.  While we mock women in the far-left for attempting to embrace things like the hijab, we let women in the far-right off completely scot-free when they attempt to embrace ‘traditional’ lifestyles.

At this point the reader is no doubt wondering how on earth I can equate the repression that women suffer under strict Islamic law with traditional man-at-the-head of the household western-style family life.  Well, the first point of similarity is that the women advocating these two lifestyles don’t have a clue as to what they represent, and where they lead.  Those on the side that glorify the hijab as an emblem of female liberation are guilty of cultural ignorance, while those on the side of ‘traditional western families’ are guilty of historical ignorance.

I am going to assume that most readers are already familiar with the downside of Islam when it comes to a woman’s rights: women don’t exist as individuals, women are owned by their husbands, husbands can beat their wives, and so on and so forth… .  However, do modern women advocating ‘traditional western families’ realize that, until the the suffragettes and other fighters for the rights of women came along, western women lived under similar conditions?

Yes, western women were once considered the property of their fathers until they married, and then of their husbands.  Since they were legal non-entities, every cent they earned belonged to the men who owned them.  They did not have access to their own money, including inheritances, unless their husbands gave them an allowance from it.

Did men have the right to beat their wives?  Yes, they did.  In a law similar to that found in Islam, men in the UK were permitted to beat their wives with a reed no thicker than his thumb (You can visit this page from to read more about wife-beating in the UK).  Sophists may try to argue that this law is a UK law, and therefore not the norm for women in other areas of Europe and North America, but sadly, that is a lie.  From the Urals to Los Angeles, women were subject to similar laws granting their husbands permission to beat them, and their children, if they misbehaved.

If a woman left her husband, even for valid reasons such as being cruelly beaten, she lost all of her rights and could be denied access to her own children.  Divorcing, or being divorced by her husband, brought massive shame down on her family and could damage any unmarried siblings’ marriage prospects.

An interesting bit of trivia: The Mary Richards character in the old Mary Tyler Moore Show was actually supposed to be a divorcee, but producers felt that idea was too radical for a 1970s viewing audience.

In addition to being beaten, western women were also considered too feeble-minded and morally corruptible to be permitted the vote.

This leads me to ask what the hell is in the minds of women glorifying ‘traditional’ lifestyles?  How much hypocrisy can modern women be expected to swallow?  A return to the ‘traditional’ family unit is no sunshine-and-daffodils scenario.  It means giving up everything other women, and some men, have fought decades-long battles to win for us.  Those rights include the right not to be beaten, the right to keep our own earnings and inheritances, the right to divorce a man who beats his wife and children, and the right to have a say in how our cities, provinces, and countries are governed.  If a woman wants to relinquish those rights, then let her do it, but she does not have the right to strip other women of them.

Please watch these videos that I have found.  They might help to open the eyes of people who believe women in the west were never treated as badly as their modern day counterparts in the Middle East.



We, The Other Sheep!

From my Steemit blog ( :

lying-sheep-112971048625bXphoto: Photo: Lying Sheep by Petr Kratochvil

The world has a very big problem, and it is based on the rather stupid notion that the Jewish people are God’s ‘chosen’ people. That is, ‘chosen’ as taken in a positive, or elitist, sense. It seems that at least two thirds of the planet are vying for the right to consider themselves as ‘God’s Favorite People’, and doing so in the strangest ways. The remaining one-third of the planet, quite frankly, doesn’t give a shit about all the nonsense and jealousy surrounding the ridiculous notion that God loves one race of people more than all the others He created. This post isn’t about them. This post is about the two-thirds who are literally killing each other in order to claim the title of God’s favorite.

It all started with the proliferation of Judeo-Christianity, which equates the Jewish God as the Creator God. Since Judeo-Christianity spread itself via the Jewish diaspora before breaking into the ‘gentile’ nations, it is no surprise that its Jewish progenitors claimed a special, ‘first born’ privilege for themselves in the new religion. Then, along came a third religion. This religion, however, sprang up among other Semitic tribes. Naturally, if God had a chosen people taken from Semitic tribes, they were eligible to lay claim to the title of God’s favorite people.

In short, it became something of a family feud. Who does daddy love more? Which of us is the favorite? The end result is the disaster we now have.

In the Christian world, meanwhile, we now have sects that actively attempt to co-opt Jewish tradition and rituals in order to graft themselves into ‘God’s Chosen People’. We have the entire ‘Israel can do nothing wrong’ movement. As Christians of non-Jewish bloodlines, there is now a tendency to think of ourselves as the child less favored by God, so we try to make up for it by slobbering all over everything Jewish and Israeli.

How sad and how far from the truth we have fallen!

Personally, I prefer to look at the Old Testament as a sordid history of how bad a people can get, and how far from the ways of the Creator God they can fall. Instead of taking it as a glorification of the Jewish people, it should be taken as a lesson of what not to do if you want to stay on the right side of God. It is the long story of how a people became a mega pain-in-the-ass to a God who wanted mercy for the weak, and kindness between humans. If God ‘chose’ Abraham and his descendants, it was probably not because He thought them superior to all the other peoples of the world. It was, more likely, because He needed to use them to produce a specific end. He looked down, assessed the candidates, and selected Abraham for the job. This does not mean that He loved them more, or that He considered them the ‘first born’, with all the rights of the first born (double share of everything), but only that He had a plan and needed someone to do the job.

Let me put this to you: if God loved the Jewish people more than all other people in the world, why did He keep kicking them out of the land He gave them, while everyone else around them got to stay? And, why did He not let them take land from certain peoples, citing that those people had not yet pissed Him off enough to merit it yet? God obviously loved those people too, and kept a watchful eye on them.

We have to put aside the notion that God has one ‘chosen’ people. You must remember that we get that notion from the Jewish people themselves, and not from God. God did pick Abraham out to do a job, but having your father select you to go to the store to get milk does not make you his favorite. If you believe Christian and Jewish scripture, then you probably believe that the whole point of the undertaking was to eventually enable God to come into the world in human form. So, then why nt look at what Jesus had to say about the matter:

“I have other sheep that are not of this sheep pen. I must bring them also.
They too will listen to my voice, and there shall be one flock and one shepherd.”
John 10:16 (NIV)

Yes, according to Jesus, the Jewish people do not have a stranglehold on God’s favor. The Jewish people were just one pen of sheep on a farm with many pens. Each of those pens has its own traditions, and is filled with its own people. There are pens filled with sheep of all colors, and a pink sheep doesn’t have to get its fur dyed white in order to win favor with the shepherd. In fact, it is silly to even try such a thing. The shepherd loves all his sheep, no matter what pen they came from.

Shifting Genes

As I was checking my Twitter feed this morning, I came across a tweet that took a dim view of a recent Lauren Southern video. The video, entitled ‘The Great Replacement’, is the usual right-wing angst about the decline of the white race. I don’t deny that the white race is in decline, and is likely to completely disappear in coming generations if nothing happens to change the current situation. That, however, is where I part company with the right-wing. Unlike many of their talking heads, I actually learned a bit of global history, and accept the fact that no race remains long on this planet without interbreeding with other races. This comes through invasions, through trade routes, and through individual choice.

If we had pictures of people taken a thousand years ago, they would not look the way we do now. They might be shorter, darker, fairer, taller, with green eyes, blue eyes, red hair, or something else. If you do a little digging, you will find accounts of blonde-haired, blue eyed Greeks, and red-haired Egyptians. Of course this news will throw right-wing race purists into a frenzy, citing it as proof that the white race is being slowly drowned out by dark-skinned people.

That may be. Or it may not be. My mother’s people are dark, almost Mediterranean in appearance. This comes from an infusion of Hungarian blood. On the plus side, they are quite tall, except for my maternal grandmother who was petite. On my father’s maternal side, they were short and dark, of undetermined racial background, though the word ‘Gypsy’ was tossed rather carelessly around. On his father’s side, the line originally was Dutch. Both my father and his sister came out blonde and fair skinned. My mother and all her siblings came out dark haired and closer to olive skinned. Considering our genetics, my siblings and myself should have turned out dark. We did not. My sister is petite, with mousy colored hair and pale, sallow skin. My brother is brunette bordering on blonde, is very tall, and has olive-type skin. Both are brown-eyed. I am tall, blonde, blue eyed, with what, at first glance, appears to be light skin. Actually, my skin is extremely pale olive, and used to turn golden yellow when I tanned (if I did not burn immediately).

Fair hair and skin may be a recessive gene, but it takes a lot to make it sink into oblivion. That is fact number one.

Fact number two has to do with trying to keep your gene-pool ‘pure’. The only way to do that is with tight inbreeding. Yep, you know what that causes. If you don’t, just look at the upper classes and royalty. They tend to be sickly, prone to genetic diseases, and are mentally, well, weird. In Norway, psychosis has a tendency to crop up more frequently in certain regions, likely due to isolation and the inbreeding it causes, while in the Saguenay-Lac St. Jean region of Quebec, another region with close inbreeding between families, a rare genetic disease has become fairly common. Follow this link for more info on the Lac St. Jean disease:

All life on this planet has a built-in instinct that strives to prevent these sorts of thing from happening. On a social level, we’ve constructed complex rules that govern what degree of separation must exist between relatives who wish to marry. The closer the relation, the more likely the union is to be banned. From a purely hormonal perspective, we are hard-wired to find healthy, strong appearing mates to be more attractive sexually than weak, wimpy ones. Thus women often marry the wimp for his money, then bed the gardener, thus planting a cuckoo’s egg in the husband’s nest. For men it far easier; they just go out and knock up a mistress or two.

But… there is something else that nature does to drive people away from committing the mistake of too much inbreeding. I call it ‘raging genetics’.

Raging genetics occurs when your body understands it is time to look to greener pastures for a contribution of healthier genes. I saw this happening in Europe a couple of decades ago. Women in Scandinavia and Germany were actively seeking out men of racially diverse backgrounds for fun and marriage. Men in Germany and Scandinavia were likewise taking on loads of foreign wives. The French in France are well known for cross-breeding with foreigners coming from their former colonies. Why was it happening, and why is it still happening?

Simple. It is called exoticism. We are attracted to something fresh and different, and I am convinced it is our genetic structure that is driving us to it. Our genes need an influx of something new, and so our tastes suddenly start to turn to things foreign and exotic. Some people sniff at exoticism and condemn it, however it satisfies a variety of needs in addition to refreshing the gene pool. If there are not enough women in an area because they have all left to pursue careers elsewhere, as actually happened in central Norway, directing foreign women who want to enter the country into those areas is a win-win situation. Isolated villages need fresh genes to prevent inbred diseases, the men there are traditional and want traditional wives, and the women going there tend to be from cultures where women are more traditional. The women probably want to escape cultures that they find repressive, and thus find a freer culture to live in. That is why so many Asian, Russian and other women have chosen the route of becoming ‘mail order brides’.

For white women, the situation is a bit more complex, with higher risks. However, you have to remember that, until recently, racial stereotypes were completely different in Europe than in North America. ‘Ghetto culture’ was not the norm for non-whites, and refugees and immigrants from the Africa and the Middle East were not seen as backwards. Indeed, their behavior was quite upstanding back when I had the chance to observe it. So, these were just exotic men, from exotic places, who appealed to woman’s urge to refresh her genetics.

Human beings created eugenics in an attempt to beat nature at its own game, and failed miserably. Nature wants the gene pool to be as wide as possible. Humans want to narrow it. But, to be quite honest, if your purebred Persian queen cat escapes the house when she is in heat, she is not going to give a damn about whether the tomcat next door is a Bengal, a Siamese, or an average domestic. And, when your purebred Bengal gets out and meets a saucy female cat from the alleyway, he is going to be quite taken by her. The kittens produced will definitely not be purebreds in the first generation, but they will be a lot healthier. However, do what do you get when you cross a Siamese cat with a Persian cat? A first generation Himalayan cat.

Please note this is a republication of a post on my Steemit blog.

Tenants From Hell

In Canada, July 1 is moving day for huge numbers of people.  It also is our national day.  The reason it is both our national day, and our moving day, is probably obvious: it is far easier to move on a holiday than to have to get time off from your boss.  Because of this, July 1 can be a living hell, anticipation-wise.

Why do I say such a thing?  Simple; you never know who will be moving into your building.  Or, if you’re the one moving, you don’t know who your new neighbors will be.  As a tenant, I’ve gone through both scenarios, and nine times out of ten, it has been bad.  Very bad.  I’ve been a bit more fortunate in the building I now live in, thank God for that, however my neighbors still fall short of considerate at times.  When the last lot moved in this past fall, well, they didn’t make a very good impression.  Fortunately, they did not turn out to be as bad as they first appeared to be, and I can pretty much live with them next door without too many issues cropping up.

I can only imagine how much worse it probably is for the owner of a building!  A tenant might look good on paper, might even have great references, but once they move in… .  Well, you never really know who they really are until it’s too late.  The person themselves might not be the problem; it could be their friends, their family, or even their dog which is causing an uproar and/or doing damage.

I found myself pondering this as I was going about my business today, mainly because something has been bothering me about the Old Testament.  Having stepped back from theology and scripture for several years, when I finally did get back to it, I found that I viewed the whole thing from an entirely new perspective.  The great and mysterious ‘covenant’ that God made with Abraham no longer looked like a divine selection of a chosen people, but a standard rental agreement.  No matter how I now looked at it, it always came back to a series of terms and conditions under which Abraham was given permission to live in the land of Canaan.   There were also plenty of clauses that allowed for eviction should he fail to respect the terms he’d agreed to.

As a tenant, Abraham turned out to be not half-bad.  He respected his neighbors, caused minimal problems, and generally honored the terms of the rental agreement.  It was as his family grew that the problems began.  Like so many renters, his sons stopped seeing the abode as someone else’s property, and started treating it as if it was their own personal possession.  They started fights with the neighbors, did what they pleased, and generally ignored the terms of their lease.  The neighbors complained, and God finally had to throw them out.

There was plenty of back-and-forthing going on throughout all of this, with God telling Abraham’s family that if they would just adhere to the terms of the lease, he’d let them back in, followed by their making endless promises to do so, only to renege again and again, over and over, again and again.  Finally, as all good landlords do, God gave them the boot, once and for all, and rented out their apartment to someone else.

And that is where it was supposed to end.  Unfortunately, they appealed to the rental board, and the rental board allowed them to force their way back in.  The peace of the neighborhood was once more destroyed.  In fact, it became an area and a building that no one in their right mind – except those who are truly desperate – want to live in.

That is the sad story of how all neighbors from hell cause property values to go down, and end up attracting other bad tenants to the building.  On this moving day, let us all remember how one bad tenant can wreck an entire neighborhood.