Visca la vida ara i aquí

Deride no-end their looks, their ingenuousness, their very simplistic worldview, their communal ethos, whatever.

But have you ever heard any hippy telling you how to live or not to live, what to think or not to think, what to say or not to say, or metooing and de-platforming you?

No. Above all, they valued freedom and agency, theirs and the other ones’.

Same as, above all, the woke value submission and control, theirs and the other ones’ —especially the other ones’.

You choose.

Sisa, Visca la llibertat

Link of the day

Hopeful signs that sanity’s on its way back, and that woke has peaked:

Judge Strikes Down California Law Mandating Women on Boards

Decision follows a similar ruling last month on a separate law requiring racial or ethnic diversity on boards

Judge Strikes Down California Law Mandating Women on Boards – WSJ

[ungated version here]

‘Til the madness around is gone

I’ve declared a moratorium on current Hollywood films and on TV series from Netflix et al. Don’t get me wrong: I actually love being educated on pluralism, lgtbism, feminism, intersectionalism; I enjoy being shown how bad, aggressive, sexually predators white men are; I love watching male buttocks and what not, and wouldn’t dare want to see a bit of female flesh with filthy, lusty eyes; I can’t but applauding when the Asian character, the lesbians lovers, the African-American gay couple, the husband humbly backing up and sacrificing all to his empowered and outwardly Ennui woman’s career, show up. They invariable do, as of course they should.

But I…, I know I shouldn’t but… —I get bored. I’m ashamed of myself and I’m sorry and I say so. It’s a bit like the Catholic mass of my youth —necessary, rightly compulsory, predictable, and reassuring —but what a bore! I apologize and promise to reform and like the shows and internalize the truth and re-socialize myself in the right way. In the meantime, though,

Episode 6 of season 1 of Upstairs, Downstairs, A Cry for Help, stands out in the series. Written by Julian Bond, the lines spoken to Lord Bellamy by his solicitor showing him how he would serve himself and his family better by way of retracting his rape accusations against a fellow nobleman and by dropping the defense of his pregnant young maid are devastatingly brilliant. And directed by Derek Bennett, what could have been another common story to cater to the audience turns into a bitter yet way more satisfying one, in which upstairs is beaten, both in knowledge of the ways the world goes round and in generosity and goodwill, by downstairs.

Likewise, episode 15 of season 1 of M*A*S*H, Tuttle, is a joy to watch. Also masterfully written and directed, you could say it’s a novel take in the classic, for a reason, The Emperor’s New Clothes‘ tale. Hawkeye and Trapper make up an entirely fictitious Captain Tuttle, who nonetheless ends up being buried with honors, with the whole platoon claiming his friendship or acquaintance.

Dear Hillary,

I’ve happened to see two films in a row starring, and being about, those deplorables of yours.

The first one you can see it on Amazon Prime Video, name’s Mud (2012). It’s, in the director’s own words, as if Sam Peckinpah had directed a short story by Mark Twain.

[Twain, of course, is not read in American classrooms anymore. Right so.]

The other one is Marty (1955).

Main character in Mud is the son of a white trash man who reminds me of Loquillo when he sings that of

No vine aquí para hacer amigos
pero sabes que siempre puedes contar conmigo.
Dicen de mí que soy un tanto animal,
pero en el fondo soy un sentimental.
Mi familia no son gente normal;
de otra época y corte moral,
que resuelven sus problemas de forma natural
—¿para qué discutir si puedes pelear?

[Y vive Dios, que escrito está: si te doy mi palabra, no se romperá]

Marty, on the other hand, is not only a butcher but a Catholic, who has nothing better to do on his weekends than search for a woman to marry to. He even tries to force a kiss on her. And he shows no sign of any intersectional conscience altogether.

And is not silly Marty a lot like Horace, as they sing in the song?

Late again today,
he’d be in trouble;
though he’d say he was sorry,
he’d have to hurry out to the bus

Horace was so sad,
he’d never had a girl
that he could care for;
and if he was late once more,
he’d be out.


Don’t be afraid,
just knock on the door.
Well he just stood there mumblin’ and fumblin’,
then a voice from above said:

Horace Wimp, this is your life,
go out and find yourself a wife.
Make a stand and be a man,
and you will have a great life plan

Horace met a girl, she was small
and she was veeeery pretty,
he thought he was in love;
he was afraid, oh oh

Asks her for a date,
the café down the street tomorrow evening.
His head was reeling when she said:
Yes, OK

Horace, this is it.
He asks the girl if maybe they could marry.
When she says:
Horace cries

Everybody’s at the church,
when Horace rushes in and says:
Now here comes my wife,
for the rest of my life.
And she did

Now go and cancel that.