Myth of Travel: The Opium for the Poor

The Western myth (of Enlightenment vintage) that one must travel widely to be cultured and refined has gripped the whole world, international tourism arrivals since 2011 exceeding 1 billion or 15% of the world’s population and the receipts $1 trillion per annum, as mega-hotels spring up, jumbo jets roar and soar, and cruise ships blast off. But is the hustle and bustle really worth it?

Not in this day and age of virtual experience. In the comfort of home just click the zillions of YouTube travel videos with expert narration and you are instantly transported to any part of the world, however exotic or remote, and experience the wonders, natural or man-made, in all their macroscopic grandeur and scale, microscopic detail and depth, apt to be missed when trudging along on location. Uncaring, obsessed for travel, the poor throw away years worth of savings only to return home as unenlightened as ever, battered, barely remembering the names of the countries or cities they have visited.

Why bother to spend money, time, and effort to fly, sail, or ride to these places, even if they are fully developed with decent security and sanitation? Forget the underdeveloped, especially the Middle East or Africa, where one easily catches ebola or is kidnapped and murdered by terrorists. Amazingly, plunking down $10,000, some still go on an African safari, risking bites by snakes and malarial mosquitoes or attacks by hyenas and lions. Why should one sleep in a hotel room, even the swankiest, known to have bed bugs, leaving his own home with 5-star amenities or so upgradable with the money saved by staying home?

As citizens of the USA whose computers have ushered in the Information Age, Americans should take the lead in weaning the world from travel addiction by going virtual. The starting point should be their own country with its breathtaking parks and cities. Zillow and Trulia give tours of houses from room to room and their environs, the whole block or city. Their inventory may soon expand to Canada and other countries.

If there still lingers skepticism about the efficacy of virtual reality consider situations where physical reality is no option. A young couple, both professionals, decide to have a baby and, after their maternity and paternity leaves, engage a team of baby sitters on different shifts so they can keep working, uninterrupted. To see how the hired help is doing neither of them need to quit and go home before the end of the work day, because there is a perfect solution: installation of surveillance cameras inside the house, as cheap as $20 each, connected to their cell phones. For an investment of a few hundred dollars, they can be home virtually.

Prediction of the Midterm Results, Nov 6, 2018: A Repudiation of Socialism

This is no brainer: a persuasive Republican majority for both chambers of Congress and Governorships to carry on the Trump agenda. All you have to do is look at the ever larger Trump rallies with raving fans, of which there were three back to back on Nov 5, culminating, after Cleveland, OH, and Fort Wayne, IN, both behemoths, with the climax, Fort Girardeau, MO, at 10 p.m., literally on the eve of Election Day, the crowd going wild, hooping and hollering, roaring, raring to go to the polls. Nobody in America, no politician, evangelist, singer, or other entertainer or spellbinder has pulled off a string of love fests with one big crowd after another on such a scale. No wonder Hollywood is hopping mad jealous, let alone the deep state in Washington.

But one may fail to see the obvious, blinded by socialism, espoused by the Democrats to depose Trump by making use of the inequality factor. The top 20% of Americans own 86% of the country’s wealth, the rest, 80%, owning the balance, 14%, of which the bottom half, i.e. 40% of the nation’s population owning less than 1%. Anti-Trumpers count on the certainty of revolt by the dispossessed 40% but also probably the other 40%, the so-called middle class, whose slim slice of the pie, 17%, is enough to infuriate them, the Antifas and other extremists.

But the Trump victory proves the error of the calculation. Equal net worth for all sounds good but is simply unworkable, because everybody wants more for himself. Greed, thy name is humankind, Shakespeare would have said. Capitalism, its other alias, drives us to compete, to work and innovate.

Suppose inequality is so heinous that it ignites a French Revolution or Bolshevik Revolution, killing off the billionaires, “enemies of the people.” What comes afterwards?

Abolition of capitalism requires a huge bureaucracy with enormous power, which naturally corrupts. Let’s assume it doesn’t and the enforcer is honest and benevolent. For all that trouble, what results is a nation of lazy bums with no motivation to work. Why should they? Ironically, the USSR might not have imploded if its enforcers had been more corrupt than they were and allowed the system to revert to capitalism on the side, as it did in China.

But the recurrence of revolutions at such cost gives us pause. Capitalism always overheats and in a generation or two extreme inequality results. The trick is to control and manage this biology of capitalism.

For the time being America will be spared a revolution. The 2018 Trump victory is proof of that. With home ownership at 60% the pitiful middle-class Americans still want to hang on to their home, be it ever so humble, to leave to their children so they have a better chance of winning the competition.

Another safety valve is public and private charity, like food stamps, meals on wheels, Supplemental Security Income, Medicare, etc. To extend the longevity of American capitalism, however, the top 1% should participate in a more drastic charity program, not out of charity but greed, their own long-term dynastic survival, as suggested in Billionaire Hall of Fame, 4-12-2015, typakmisings.com.

The Lottery: The Equalizer

No sooner has B bought a lottery ticket on impulse, when the jackpot soars through the billion dollar mark, than he regrets it. Instead of fantasizing about his winning, a long shot, too depressing to think about, his mind dwells on the certainty of some lucky dude X, probably a bum, winning and becoming an instant aristocrat. How X would preen and strut, with what airs! B can well imagine it, knowing A, a relative, school alum, coworker, church member, as the case may be, who lives in a mansion, owns a yacht, an airplane…, and has a circle of friends that excludes B. All because A’s net worth is $15,000,000, which is however only 1% of X’s.

What if X turns out to be someone B knows, a loser he has loathed and avoided all these years? B is startled by the polar reversal of their relative positions. Such a probability is actually quite high. In his time B has crossed paths with quite a few deadbeats and these lotteries will go on in every state, because the government gets to withhold a big chunk, nearly half of a jackpot, easy revenue without taxation.

Is it time he revised his attitude toward these lowlifes, especially because the world’s billionaires are lottery ticket winners in a different sense? Most of them make it that big in the stock market, a huge gambling arena, so-called investment but a euphemism for speculation, gambling. So is opening a restaurant, going into construction, buying a house or doing anything at all in life.

What about scholarship and research, successes and achievements built on many years of hard work and dedication? They are not all that different, B discovers. Every one of the inventors, scientists, writers has gambled. Luck dictates their career choice and inertia takes over. Then they pursue a hunch, which pans out, and they get to go on to win the Nobel prize, beating others to the punch.

B concludes the lottery ticket worth it for the insight, for teaching him to moderate his jealousy and anger at the billionaires and Nobel laureates, as well as his contempt for the also-rans of the world, including himself, and swears to extend the same courtesy and respect to all the next time around.

Ask Three Times Before Taking No For an Answer: Quirky Korean Etiquette

My dear natural born American friends, don’t be too annoyed if I, a naturalized Korean American, now and then forget to take no for an answer and keep pressing on you second helpings or a gift! Ingrained in my psyche is the Korean etiquette: Ask three times to afford a chance to refuse and be polite. Actually, I hear one has to ask five times now in Korea before desisting in the belief: the more of a good thing, the better. Lately, however, I have been shocked into rethinking the wisdom of this cultural quirk, though seemingly reaffirmed by a venerable bona fide native American.

I took to the best steak house in Manhattan Bill, 93, an Onc (see Immortality Club, 8-2-2018, typakmusings.com) and my mentor. Before his retirement in 1995 at 70 he had circumnavigated the globe dozens of times as captain of huge tankers and freighters weighing hundreds of thousands of tons, then worked as vice president of operations at his shipping company’s head office in Manhattan, keeping track of scores of these megaships in the sea lanes and ports of the world at any one time. This evening’s treat was to thank him for his indulgence whenever I pump him for his seafaring tales, partly hoping to verify the likelihood of a rogue wave as in the movie, The Poseidon Adventure (1972).

“Let’s have the steak replaced,” I suggest, seeing the filet mignon almost burnt through.

“No, it’s okay,” Bill declines. “It’s all my fault. I told them well done. The charred tips can be cut off.”

“You’ll be cutting off half or more of it. They should replace it three times over.” For the price they are charging, $125, I almost say.

“No, it’s okay. Actually, I like it this way, crisp and chewy.”

“No, it’s a matter of principle,” I insist, raising my hand to wave to the maitre d’.

“Stop it!” he almost shouts with uncharacteristic vehemence that floors me. “I said no the first time and I meant it.”

Suddenly I realize my lapse unawares into the Korean mode.

“Sorry, Bill!” I apologize and explain, attributing it to the Chinese Romance of the Three Kingdoms where King Yufei goes to meet Chuko Kungming, the sage, at his humble dwelling in the boondocks to beg him to be his advisor and commander in the struggle with the rival kingdoms but is refused and sent away twice. Undeterred, Yufei comes back the third time to plead, whereupon, moved by his sincerity, Chuko joins him and helps him unify China, though at the price of his own death in the process.

“Well, one confession deserves another,” Bill says. “I’ve never complained and had a plate replaced at a restaurant in my whole life, that is, since I saw what Alfredo, chef at my Dad’s restaurant, did to the replacement. I was 9. That day, hiding behind racks, I had sneaked into the kitchen, off limits to outsiders. A waiter plumped on the counter in the partition wall a plate of half eaten steak, customer complained and replacement demanded. Muttering and swearing Alfredo hastily prepared a new plate. On his way to the counter for pickup by the waiter he spit on the steak and spread it with his finger. I slipped away unnoticed, not knowing whether to report or not. Even if I did, Dad would have confronted the accused, who would have denied it. Nothing would come of it and in the meantime Alfredo might come around and kill me as a snitch. But my quandary did not last long. He got thrown in jail for manslaughter while driving under the influence and Dad had to hire another guy. Ever since I never complain at a restaurant, even if there may be a dead cockroach in it. I knew you were right and meant well but I am just too old to change. There’s nothing wrong with your culture. I think it’s cute. The good will is obviously there and Americans may as well adopt it. It’s just my bad luck to have run into a weirdo and skewed my perception of food preparers in general.”

The Statue of Liberty: An Apology to Paul Sharar

Dear Paul,

Please check out my latest article posted on typakmusings.com, 9-17-2018, now entitled A Tribute to 911: Paul Sharar and Glen Rock, NJ, with additional details to explain my position regarding extreme vetting and exclusion of dangerous foreign agents, perceived by some as un-Christian and arrogant. In the course of revision it became clear that the original article, a short travelog with you and your town as title, should be upgraded more fittingly to a tribute to the 911 tragedy, in some ways more momentous than Pearl Harbor. Hence, taking your forbearance for granted, I have made the change, your demotion to subtitle an unavoidable consequence.

I wish I had as much ease in revising Lazarus’ poem inscribed on the Statue of Liberty (see A Modest Proposal: Repeal or Redact the Inscription on the Statue of Liberty, 7-4-2017, typakmusings.com). The motive is the same: prevention of another 911. Illegals brandish the poem before the border patrol, mocking their vigilance. But I run into resistance, the poem having attained scriptural sanctity, any tampering therewith considered sacrilege, though its theme is only tangential to the real purpose of the Statue. The sonnet, written in 1883, 3 years before the erection of the Statue, is a commercial for immigration to encourage donations to the pedestal fund, only trickling in then, by appealing to the immigrant masses. As such it was enormously successful, fully funding the American portion of the project by raising in 2 years the then enormous sum of $102,000 from 120,000 donors, 80 percent of the total received in amounts of less than one dollar. However, the poem has nothing to do with the statue’s true symbolism, liberty or rather liberation, independence, emancipation, as denoted by the date of American independence, 7-4-1776, inscribed on the tablet in her left hand and the broken chain at her feet. The poem was promptly forgotten until its casting onto a bronze plaque in 1903 to hang inside the pedestal to consecrate America’s insatiable thirst for cheap imported labor. Times have changed. The USA has enough labor on hand and is in need of more brain than brawn.

We’ll talk more at church Sunday.

Ty Pak, Your Junior Onc (see Immortality Club, 8-2-2018, typakmusings.com)

A Tribute to 911: Paul Sharar and Glen Rock, NJ

Dear Youngick and Joyce,

Today after the English service and fellowship, just as the Korean service was about to start, Paul Sharar, an Onc at our church (see Immortality Club, 8-2-2018, typakmusings.com), offered to show me his town of Glen Rock only a hop away. I jumped at the opportunity but, leaving the table, I could immediately sense the reproach of my inevitable truancy on the faces of my Korean pals and knew that I would be in for some serious tongue lashing later on by my wife who was already in the sanctuary going over the music with the ensemble. No matter. I had to follow Paul, my Virgil.

Seven years my senior he is a true Renaissance intellectual, widely and deeply read, way beyond his academic credentials, a Ph.D. in psychology from Columbia as well as an MA in theology, on the NYU faculty and International Director of Operations for YMCA for decades before retirement and currently dedicated to genealogy and Parkinson’s research. I owe him a particular debt of gratitude for his in-depth review of my novel, The Polyglot: Union of Korea and Japan, amazon.com, discovering more dimensions of meaning and form than I was aware.

What a charming little town Glen Rock is, well ordered and kept up, its eponymous glacial rock quaintly enshrined on the roadside near his house! We cruised past the spiffy stores downtown, Paul providing a running commentary on their specialties. I was surprised to learn that a recent 911 movie opens on this very block with the barbershop and other shops he patronizes, the quintessence of a peaceful American town of 12,000 waking up to a quiet Tuesday morning, soon to be shattered by the chaos and mayhem of the World Trade Center only half an hour away by the Path train, the community suffering 11 fatalities that day. That did it, forever seal a bond in blood between us, me and Glen Rock, for on that fateful day I too lost a dear niece, an up and coming star in finance with an office on the 100th floor of the South Tower. The very thought of it still racks me with horror and rage against the murderers, Al-Queda monsters, “animals,” we shouldn’t have let in, should bar with extreme vetting, border wall, whatever it takes.

Amazingly the town has two train stations, one for the Path to Hoboken and Manhattan and the other for the NJ Transit to Newark and Trenton, making Glen Rock an ideal suburb for many commuters.

“I’ll show you where Youngick and Joyce lived,” Paul said out of the blue. He knows you are my high school alum (1956), married to Joyce (I forget her typical Anglo maiden name, say, Swanson), your exogamy a parallel to that of Peter Bach, my novel’s protagonist, and Stella Sullivan, an Oscar-winning documentarian and Eisenhower’s White House Film Historian (see The Polyglot: Union of Korea and Japan, amazon.com).

“RealIy!” I replied, delighted. “I bet I would recognize it. We had our reunions there a few times. But it was in the middle of a wood, as I recall, separated from other houses and there was a lake or something in the name of the town.”

“Well, it’s just around the corner from my house but in Ridgewood, cheek by jowl to Glen Rock. He was a cardiovascular surgeon at the Valley Hospital in Ridgewood.”

There it was, a picturesque mansion on the knoll at the intersection of Highland and Cantrell. Obviously it was not the same house.

“They lived there at least ten years before selling it to a movie star. We even had Korean YMCA board meetings there.”

“When was that?”

“In the 80’s and 90’s.”

“No wonder. We were meeting in the millennium, shortly after 911 and before our move to Honolulu a few years later.”

“We haven’t seen Joyce at church, though we have Youngick a few times. How is she?”

“She was at our gathering a few months ago, recovering from surgery.”

“For what?”

“Spinal stenosis and arthritis.”

“Infirmities of age! A vivacious, spirited lady, she used to floor us with her terse remarks, witty and to the point. Hope to see them both at church some time soon.”

“Not likely for some time. They are now in Connecticut, essentially doing what we are doing back here from Honolulu, babysitting their youngest grandchild.”

The “Chink” Dividend: Asian American Loyalty in the US-China Trade War

Can Asian Americans, especially Chinese Americans, be trusted in the US-China Trade War, especially in light of what may be called the “Chink” Dividend?

First off, this is not a shooting war, where millions get visibly slaughtered. If it were, they, all good US citizens, born or naturalized, would instantly rise up and take up arms against China and defend America in a heart beat (see Ty Pak for President, 6-1-2014, typakmusings.com).

The same may be said about legal aliens, permanent residents (green card holders), who are patiently biding their time to be naturalized. For one reason or another they all want to live in America. In fact, if we had an open border, a la Never-Trumpers, contrary for contrariness’s sake, the other continents would empty out overnight and swamp and choke America.

However stirred up against China, America should never repeat the inanity of internment ordered by FDR in 1940. If warranted, available are other means of surveillance, far less offensive yet infinitely more effective, like FISA, though lately subverted by FBI and DOJ to their eternal shame.

But a trade war is every bit a war which, if not fought and won, would destroy us en masse as assuredly as carpet bombing with multiple nuclear warheads, only time delayed. Greedy, China wants to drown America in trade deficits and starve and trash all Americans, black, white, yellow, who should therefore rally squarely behind their commanding general, President Trump, slogging it out knee deep in the trenches.

Naturally, there is a twinge of regret on the part of Asian Americans. It’s only human. Blood is thicker. In particular, they owe China a debt of gratitude: with its awesome riches it has wiped out the black and white hauteur toward the yellow race in America. Asians are no longer stared down as Chinks or Gooks. Besides this has an unintended global benefit: extermination of racism. Remember yellow comes between white and black in the color spectrum and color-blankness in the middle translates to universal colorlessness. The American way of life, a melting pot, where every individual is just that, an individual, neighbor, colleague, fellow countryman, human being, will spread worldwide like rap music, in the meantime restoring sanity and fairness in doing business, uprooting trade wars.

So just as Eisenhower had no qualms driving Germany, his ancestral land, into the ground in WW II, Asian Americans will see this trade war through no matter what the cost.

All Aboard Choo Choo Train to Trump Land MAGA!: Witch Hunt Is Over!

Finally, it is full speed ahead all the way to the Trump Land of American Greatness, Mueller’s Witch Hunt wrecked by a triple whammy and cleared off the tracks.

1. Indicted Russians Demand Discovery

To look good, to prove that he is not wasting time (for nearly 2 years) and money ($25 million of tax payer money and counting) Mueller casually dashes off 13 indictments (see Mueller’s Russian Indictments: A Copout, 7-24-2018, typakmusings.com), cocksure that would be the end of it. The indicted Russians, none of whom have come to the States before (and yet of course colluded with Trump) would bother to travel all the way across the ocean, spending time and money. In the meantime by the grandstanding he accomplishes two things: (a) names and shames the absentees thereby fixing the suspicion of collusion more firmly on Trump’s head and (b) shrugs the Trumpers off his back and gets his tenure extended, until at least past the midterm elections in November, 2018, when a Blue Wave brings a Democratic majority to the House and impeaches Trump, regardless how his Special Investigation fares.

Lo and behold, the darn Russians show up and demand disclosure of his evidence against them. This time he cannot hem and haw or redact, as his DOJ and FBI cronies do, thumbing their nose at Congress. This is a US Federal Court, where a defendant’s right to discovery is constitutionally guaranteed. But compliance means the end of the Witch Hunt, as it incriminates the top echelons of DOJ and FBI, including Mueller himself and his pal Rosenstein, who signs off on FISA applications and appoints him Special Counsel.

Mueller and his minions, yes, all those smug elite lawyers are currently not smirking but racking their brains, brows knit, to figure out how they may extricate themselves from this hole of their own digging. They can’t. The game’s up. They have no alternative but to drop the indictments in toto, refusing discovery for national security reasons, and become the laughing stock of the whole world.

But in defeat is Mueller man enough to throw in the towel and own up, confessing that the Hunt has been a hoax all along? No, he still has Manafort who, threatened with a 3 centuries-plus jail term, might flip on Trump, just as Cohen did, though in vain.

2. Rick Gates, the Embezzler and Fraud

But the Manafort trial on which Mueller has been betting his bottom dollar is falling apart. His star witness Rick Gates, a long-time associate of Manafort’s plea-bargained to squeal on Manafort, turns out to have zero credibility: an embezzler, liar, adulterer. Whatever he has to say against Manafort will only boost him who, so reinforced, won’t turn on Trump, however deep Mueller may dig, maybe way back to his conception.

How absurd, how sad for America! Mueller and vermin of his ilk should have been squelched at the outset and the responsibility for the omission rests squarely with Ellis, the presiding judge. Granted he has repeatedly come down hard on Mueller for minutiae, like looking down, not up when talking to his Highness, and is steering the trial toward acquittal or guilty verdict on some charge unrelated to the purpose of Mueller’s appointment. In fact, Ellis is responsible for the whole Witch Hunt dragging out this long, ruling as he did in May 2017 upon perusal of Rosenstein’s appointment letter, that Mueller is indeed empowered to pursue “any links” whatsoever related to Russia and Trump, laying the blame on Rosenstein for giving such an unfettered fishing license to Mueller.

Attached below is the one-page document which clearly shows that Ellis has not read it closely enough and has allowed himself to be manipulated by Rosenstein’s deliberately ambiguous verbiage, thereby missing the whole point of the investigation, Russian collusion with Trump. Often woodsmen lose sight of the forest on account of the trees.

Instead of focusing on the headline in bold letters, investigate Russian interference with the 2016 presidential election and related matters, Ellis is lost in the text and gets fixated on one phrase, “any links,” perhaps betraying his penchant for minutiae, and strays from the controlling clause, “any matters that arose or may arise directly from the investigation.” The key words are “related” and “directly”. Of course such degree of ambiguity wouldn’t pass muster in English 101 but Rosenstein, the elite genius, composes this garbage, perhaps counting on its misinterpretation by his elite fellow jurists. Ellis rebukes Mueller for obsessing with Manafort’s lavish lifestyle, not because it is strictly forbidden by the language of the charging document but out of common sense. Had the mandate been properly interpreted, the nation would have been spared the tragicomic agony of the charade called Manafort trial.

3. A Giant Red Wave

Mueller’s calculation to hang on and ride the Blue Wave has been shattered. In Ohio Balderson, a Trump Republican, is a winner (though his opponent does not concede as of this writing, 11:16 p.m. EDT, 8-8-2018), making Republican gains 8 out of 9 and confirming the Republican majority of the House. Mueller’s hopes for Trump impeachment by Congress have a snowflake’s chance in hell.

[The PDF file is not copying and other means are being sought. In the meantime Google “Mueller Appointment Letter.]

Who Wins the Trade War, US or China?

On Aug 5, 2018, the first Sunday of the month, the ONCS at Ridgewood United Methodist Church, Ridgewood, NJ (see Immortality Club, 8-2-2018, typakmusings.com) had as its guest speaker J, who had grown up in the church before going off to teach political science at universities in Asia.

Dispensing with a formal presentation he invites the group’s participation in a Q&A session and goes straight to the burning question of the day, especially in the Democrat majority state: will America survive the consequences of the trade war set off by Trump’s foolhardy tariffs on Chinese goods?

“For a while,” J concludes after surveying the statistics, billions, even trillions of dollars worth of goods across the board to sustain modern American lifestyle. “With stopgap subsidies to those who scream like the soybean growers. The Chinese are smart and punch back right where it hurts most, the soft underbelly of America.”

“But the EU has offered to buy our soybeans?” I suggest, hoping for the superfluity of their subsidy.

“Only a fraction of what China can buy,” counters M, an Onc and dedicated Trump detractor. “Tofu is still not a staple of European diet.”

“Right,” J is on a roll. “But American vulnerability is not limited to soybeans. The American body is soft everywhere, not just the underbelly. For the last few decades it has soaked, submerged in the numbing sweet elixir of Chinese manufacture and the subsidies will multiply ballooning the budget until it pops. Either subsidies will cease or rampant inflation stalk the land, Americans everywhere screaming for Trump’s blood.”

“But the Chinese will suffer, too,” I hazard. “Look at the steel furnaces firing up all over America. China has mountains of steel they cannot dump anywhere except maybe in the South China Sea to build their idiotic islands.”

“Okay,” J concedes. “It comes down to pain tolerance and, unlike Americans, the Chinese are known for unlimited capacity. Their whole history is endurance. They just suffer and wait for years and years, generation after generation. Remember Deng Xiaoping’s answer when asked by an American journalist what he thought of the French Revolution (1789-99): it’s too early to tell.”

“After two centuries?” I laugh in disbelief. “I don’t think he went to school beyond sixth grade. No, the Chinese I know bleed and scream just as much as any American, and are just as incontinent and foolhardy like us. Okay, like Trump. But he has a better chance of prevailing because Chinese exposure is greater than ours. Suppose trading stops this instant. They’ll have ten times more stuff rotting on the docks of Shanghai than ours on both coasts. Look at all the megacities they have built and can’t fill, the trillion dollar One Belt One Road Plan, including the New Eurasian Land Bridge (Railroad), to dominate global trade, all a flop. No capacity can take that much hurt.”

“Look,” M, an idealist and humanist at heart, tries to raise the discussion to a higher level. “All these tariffs and trade wars will disappear if we have a global government, a global United States or EU magnified. Just as Massachusetts won’t drop a nuclear bomb on Vermont for deep sea fishing rights, we won’t bomb Russia or China or vice versa about who makes what.”

“Speaking of nuclear bombs, we should get along with Russia and China to survive and trade wars are certainly not the way to go about it,” J agrees. “Clinton let slip a golden opportunity right after the collapse of the USSR. Weak and clueless, Russia would have joined NATO and a Transatlantic Federation, TF, could have emerged, which would have eventually brought China into the fold, the rest of the world following suit. But he had to bow to the Polish lobby.”

“Isn’t Trump’s meeting with Putin in Helsinki a prelude to TF?” I jump to peddle my idea (see Helsinki 2018: the Finest Hour of American Diplomacy, 7-19-2018, typakmusings.com).

“Not immediately after he beefs up the NATO budget by hundreds of billions with new member contributions,” opines S, a recognized sage among the Oncs. “But in time the additional financial burden may make the Europeans or the Americans howl or even the Russians for that matter. The best scenario is for them all to blink and yell, Enough! at the same time, instead of playing chicken to the bitter end, towards MAD, mutual assured destruction.”

“Such simultaneity would be facilitated by interracial, intercultural, international marriage like J’s,” I mention, referring to his gracious Chinese wife who has given him two gorgeous Eurasian children, and go on to plug my book. “That is exactly the theme of The Polyglot: Union of Korea and Japan, amazon.com, where the protagonist, a Korean with Russian and Central Asian upbringing, marries an American girl, and also discovers that his biological father is a Japanese tycoon, not a famous Korean patriotic poet married to his Korean doctor mother. It urges the union of the two historic rivals, Korea and Japan, a similar invitation to China in its sights. Asia so unified will join the TF. Your World Union, M, would ensue as a superstructure anchored to such firm regional bases, rather than a federation of individual states.”

“I can’t agree more strongly,” J chimes in, and takes down the title of the book, promising to incorporate it in his curriculum. I love this guy. Too bad I cannot talk more fully about his identity or vision about US and China relations. Perhaps I have given away too much as it is, catching him off guard. He must have thought he is with his old home church crowd, especially its Oncs, the terminals, who would surely take whatever they learn to the grave. In addition to his scholarly work and teaching he has close dealings with the Chinee government in an advisory capacity under an implicit NDA (nondisclosure agreement). I hope what I have disclosed so far does not come to haunt him. To be fair, however, he hasn’t revealed anything all that secret. Anyone with internet access could have figured it out.

Jim Jordan: Next Speaker and President

On May 21, 2018, at a gathering of the Freedom Caucus in Washington, D.C., Rep. Jim Jordan gave a talk on the basic values of America, work, discipline, willingness to take risks to get things done, ignoring easy-goers, naysayers. It was verily a breath of fresh air, a “pin drop speech” as billed by YouTube.

A natural, extemporaneous speaker he articulates his thoughts simultaneously as they form in the head, or so it seems. With no time for selection or labored embellishment they shoot out like machine gun bullets to blow the cocky smile off the face of Deputy AG Rosenstein and compel his compliance with congressional demand for the FISA documents.

But in a friendly setting as now they shower flower petals, jewels, or manna, as the case may be, that soothe, cheer, thrill, or inflame. His lifelong motto has been Do what you said you would do. “There is one guy doing that in town,” he says, namely, President Trump, who has cut taxes, shored up the economy, defeated ISIS, … In comparison, the Congress has failed miserably time and again, he illustrates, taking the easy way out.

His voice rings out clarion clear with no hint of hoarseness (due to laryngeal impairment by acid reflux or otherwise), thanks perhaps to his “majoring in wrestling”: in college he was top state wrestler year after year, as well as serving as assistant wrestling coach. Making light of his formal education, MA in economics and JD, he is a quick study, distinguishing himself as an innovative and responsible legislator (Ohio State Legislature 1995-2006, US Congress 2007 – current). More recently, he has been brilliant in the House oversight role breaking open the deep-state hangers-on in the DOJ and FBI to prevent their complicity in the Witch Hunt for Russian collusion from imploding America (Overhaul of DOJ and Government Staffing: No Lawyers, 7-5-2018, typakmusings.com).

Firmly rooted in his Midwest upbringing and grateful and humble to serve and lead when elected in whatever role, he is not likely to put on elitist airs and will carry the torch passed on by Trump in 2024 to KEEP AMERICA GREAT (see Manifesto of Radical Democracy, 5-26-2014, typakmusings.com). The country should rally behind his bid for Speaker of the House now and give him full 6 years of tutelage alongside his exemplar and congenial colleague and companion to be 46th President of the US.

Immortality Club

Earlier this year we had the induction, willy-nilly, of S, a Korean American, as the youngest Onc, that is, a member of ONCS, Octo-Nona-Centenarian Society, formed informally at Ridgewood United Methodist Church, Ridgewood, NJ, subsequent to the posting of Candor about Age (1-23-2018, typakmusings.com).

Understandably he wasn’t all that thrilled, a reluctance shared by the others: it’s not like induction into a Hall of Fame. I have had to twist their arms to quit pussyfooting about their age (1-21-2018, typakmusings.com). Reciting Candor, I point out, uncharitably, that their declaration of Onchood comes as no surprise. They have been carrying the flashing beacons: droopy jowls, collapsed look at the mouth despite extensive dental work, grey hair, sneaking roots belying the dye, shuffling gait, geriatric stoop, generally sagging, sinking appearance, some wheelchair bound, too obvious to escape anyone’s notice, unlike the subtler signs displayed by the younger “I am not telling” or “forever 39” crowd.

But S has a particular reason to refuse identification with the other Oncs. He still is or imagines himself to be full of energy, playing golf 3 or 4 days a week. No, he is not one of those living dead, zombie like. Besides he has heard somewhere that in America those above 80, considered terminal cases, are looked upon with pity, if not loathing. Disingenuously I have persuaded him that ONCS is actually like the Biblical Senate to which all the rest of the church look up as repository of wisdom and guidance, that unlike Koreans who pay lip service to respect for the elderly Americans show it in action like Senior Supplemental Security Income.

Of course I haven’t told him that America, a youth worshiping culture, looks askance at Eithgy-plussers. During fellowship after church service the younger crowd shy away from us. Rubbing elbows with Oncs is bad investment timewise: they’ll all be goners in a few years, before or shortly after they turn 90, a knockout blow coming unpredictably from any part of the body, somewhat reminiscent of the punishment meted out in the old Chinese (Korean or Japanese?) military: a company of men is ordered to stand around and keep kicking the sack in which the prisoner is enclosed, until it slumps and goes still. No wonder they look upon us as residents of a hospice wheeled out for an outing, for social exposure, like a good meal before the execution.

Though the centenarian label is tacked on, that is, 100 or older, it’s just a wishful thought. The likelihood of any of us joining that stratum is 0.005%. Besides 99.99% of those few hundred thousand worldwide who cross the threshold perish in the first decade, and only a few dozen make the Supercentenarian rank, 115 or above. There is only one verified Supra-supercentenarian, Jeanne Calment (1875–1997) of France, who died at the age of 122 years, 164 days. There is no question of any human making it to the 8th or 9th century like some Old Testament patriarchs, let alone the millennium, not contemplated even in fertile Jewish memory. Not that it matters one way or another in the spectrum of eternity.

Actually we are glad they leave us alone. We don’t have much to say. No dicta impress us. Few of us ever quote anyone, be it a sage or a god. Not because our memory is failing but because so-called insight or wisdom sounds all so tawdry.

But we, hospice residents, may be rendering one salutary public service. Like the Anchor Boy graduating last and feted by the whole class at the Naval Academy for making everybody else look good in comparison, the Oncs give the non-Oncs a sense of safety and wellbeing, akin to that of a gladiator standing over a fallen opponent.

“Let’s change our group name to Immortality Club dedicated to the promotion of research and industry to bring about immortality,” S declares.

“But there is cellular senescence,” I add my two bits. “Our cells shut down after 50 cycles of division, because telomeres capping DNA wear out.”

“Nanotechnology will repair DNA damage and ultimately reverse senescence,” S is confident. “Humans will live forever, not in deep freeze or suspended animation, but in the prime of life, active and productive. Just imagine what the world will be like.”

“Can it be done before the end of the year?” asks W, the oldest Onc at 98.

“Not that soon. That’s why we should push it as a national movement and get it funded by the government, even setting up a new Department of Immortality.”

“That would be long after I am gone,” wails W. “So unfair! No, I want no part of it.”

CNN’s Modus Operandi: Decontextualization

On Jul 24, 2018 CNN does it again, confirming its modus operandi: decontextualization.

To refute Trump’s latest tweet that Russia might aid the Democrats in the 2018 mid-term elections because contrary to expectations he has been tough to Russia, Wolf Blitzer plays a clip from the Helsinki summit news conference 8 days before and asks viewers to judge for themselves whether Putin is pro-Trump or pro-Democrats.

A reporter asks a compound question: (1) Did Putin want Trump to win? and (2) Did Putin help him win in 2016?

Putin answers yes and goes on to address Question 1, explaining the reason for his preference: Trump wants to get along with Russia. Cutting him off Blitzer looks triumphantly at the camera, unspoken words shouting, QED. If the viewer had not watched the press conference in full, he or she would believe that Putin has admitted to meddling and collusion in 2016 and will do so again in 2018.

Had Blitzer left the video run a few more seconds the viewer would have heard Putin categorically say No to Question 2 and dismiss collusion as an absurdity.

History will show CNN and others for the fake media they are, depriving the world of knowledge (see CNN Fakery on the 8-22-2017 Trump Rally, 8-25-2017, typakmusings.com).

Mueller’s Russian Indictments: A Copout

In defiance of White House efforts at dissuasion the Mueller Russian collusion probe, on which the Impeach (Lynch) Trump mob has pinned its hopes, grandly announces indictments against 12 Russian nationals to coincide with the Trump-Putin summit on Jul 16, 2018.

If meant to be a dramatic warning of some sort to Trump as he meets Putin, it has made absolutely no impression. Right chummy with Putin, Trump has asked him to the White House, the first such invitation to a Russian head of state since Khrushchev in 1959. Actually, Mueller has made that gesture, knowing full well that the indictments cannot be enforced, there being no extradition treaty with Russia, underscored by Putin’s offer to Mueller to come over and interrogate the Russians charged, aware that Mueller will do no such thing.

Apart from their vacuity the Russian indictment strays into a fishing trip not sanctioned by his May 17, 2017 Special Counsel charter: Investigation into

“any links and/or coordination between the Russian government and individuals associated with the campaign of President Donald Trump, and any matters that arose or may arise directly from the investigation.”

Despite the misleading “any” it must be strictly interpreted to mean discovery of proof of Trump’s collusion with Putin rising to treason. After 1.2 years of digging there isn’t a “scintilla of evidence” supporting it, according to Rep. Gowdy. Moreover, if there is such collusion, it will show in action, such as Trump’s easing up on sanctions against Russia or giving other concessions. There is no hint of that. In fact, the opposite is the case, Trump escalating the sanctions. If Putin had been stiffed thereby, he would have stepped forward by now to get the welsher’s blood. He has not.

Nor do the 12 indictments stem “directly” from the specified purpose of the probe: Trump’s collusion. Instead they merely allege Russian meddling in US elections, as if that’s news. Russian meddling has been going on and will never stop. It’s part of their national policy. Nor should we be self-righteous and indignant: our CIA, NSA, FBI, etc. may have been doing something similar or worse to Russia and others all along.

But in the performance of this gratuitous labor Mueller’s team has been bewildered by the profligacy of their quarry. The Russians are simply drunk with meddling, lashing out in every which way with no direction or purpose. It would be nice and neat if they had hacked Hillary’s campaign only to dig up dirt on her to share and collude with Trump. Instead Russian operatives, all supposedly under Putin’s control, hack Trump, too, and supply Steele with material to script the Dossier for Hillary which in turn emboldens Rosenstein and crew to apply for FISA surveillance on the Trump campaign and appoint Mueller as Special Counsel.

Rep. Gowdy demands Mueller to end the witch hunt immediately, lest it should tear the nation apart, by bringing anybody to be charged to the “damn grand jury.” The vacuous Russian indictment won’t cut it. Devin Nunes and other Congressmen ask Trump to dissolve the probe but he won’t, because the I(L)T mob will go on forever with their litany that he did so because Mueller was getting too close for comfort.

Will Mueller terminate it voluntarily? No way. Because the facts protected by on-going investigation will all out and send to jail Rosenstein, Mueller, and a whole lot of the I(L)T mob for not only knowingly going on with the Dossier, even after its bogus nature became obvious only a few months into the probe, but also extending the fishing trip to the Middle East. Mueller will probably drag out the hunt until a Democratic President comes along to pardon him and his pals.

In the meantime the Russians are patting themselves on the back for embroiling America serendipitously in an unending feud which may, they hope, lead to its implosion and collapse (see Russians Having a Belly Laugh, 7-19-2017, typakmusings.com).

Helsinki 2018, the Finest Hour of American Diplomacy: Redemption for the Cuban Missile Crisis of 1962

The reactions of the American media to the Trump-Putin summit in Helsinki on Jul 16, 2018 certify them as myopic, partisan, fake news and prove once and for all the old adage about the blind calling an elephant a snake as they feel only its trunk. They think Trump has diminished America by truckling to Putin, the big winner. On the contrary, Trump emerges the elder statesman and global peace maker/strategist showing the way for America and Russia to get along and hold in check China as well as other minor bullies, rogues, and terrorists.

One may even go as far as to say that Helsinki 2018 is the finest hour of American diplomacy and redeems the horror of the American macho “toughness” (more accurately, foolhardiness) displayed by Kennedy vis-a-vis Khrushchev 56 years ago over the Cuban Crisis, which could have ended life on earth. The blind talking heads and pundits are insensitive to the paramount imperative for America and Russia to get along, the chilling specter still hanging over our heads: 90% of the world’s nuclear warheads in the hands of the duo, each capable, if provoked, of turning the Earth singlehandedly into a dead planet many times over in the twinkling of an eye.

(1) Competitor, not Adversary

Adroitly, Trump turns a reporter’s ploy to trap the two men into an adversarial relationship by calling Russia a competitor, a compliment because competition is the mantra of capitalism, endorsed by Putin and other post-Soviet Russians. He foils another reporter’s attempt to make him eat his word, telling Merkel not to buy Russian gas and make Germany vulnerable, language reminiscent of the Cold War: it’s just salesmanship, he jests, trying to sell American surplus gas and oil. Trump, the master dealer, defuses the tension between the two countries by transforming possible armed conflict into humdrum commercial negotiation.

(2) Mum on Crimea

The blind fakes denounce Trump for failing to order the KGB thug to get out of Crimea, failing to note that the annexation is not so cut and dried or single dimensional. A seaside way station since time immemorial for every tribal or troop movement from the continent to the Black Sea and vice versa, Crimea was made part of Russia in 1783 and was assigned in 1954 from Russia to Ukraine, then both in the USSR, for rezoning purposes, and left as an “autonomous” appendage to Ukraine following the Soviet collapse in 1991 until its recent Russian takeover, which is not exactly a grab and gulp in the old imperialistic mode. It would be quixotic of America to rise up in indignation and go to war to force Russia to cough up Crimea. Wisely, therefore, Trump lets Putin state his case. Noting Trump’s standing opposition to the Russian intervention in 2014, Putin cites the overwhelming (95%) referendum in favor, 90% of the Crimeans speaking Russian. Trump lets it rest there, not because he is ignorant of the inflated statistics but because the alternative, restoration to Ukraine for whatever reason, is just not worth rocking the boat of friendship just launched between the two countries.

(3) Throwing US Intelligence Under the Bus on Russian Collusion and Meddling

In reply to a reporter’s question whether he wanted Trump to win, Putin frankly admits he did because Trump wanted to get along with Russia whereas Hillary didn’t, but categorically denies doing anything to bury her, like hacking into the Hillary campaign and digging up dirt on her to share and collude with Trump. “I didn’t know him in 2016 to collude with,” he says, though the translation seems somewhat mangled.

Citing Mueller’s indictment of 12 Russian intelligence officers a reporter tenaciously points out that based on indisputable US intelligence Russia has hacked into Hillary’s DNC. Putin denies this unequivocally and invites Mueller to come over and interrogate the persons charged. At this point the guy, a fake news stoolie with no qualms about putting his President on the spot, asks point blank whether he takes Putin’s word against his own US intelligence. Is Trump to wreck this once in a lifetime opportunity to get along with Russia by calling Putin a liar? Trump dodges the frontal attack and questions the infallibility of any intelligence service, including that of the US which to date has not produced Hillary’s server or missing emails. Of course this evasion, more accurately diplomatic finesse, is fuel for the firestorm at home, one CNN know-all solemnly declaring that Trump has thrown his own intelligence people under the bus.

Actually, Trump could have told Putin something like “collusion no but meddling yes,” even if it may have been to help him, and rebuked him, though good-naturedly. He is known to be blunt at his own expense. But there is no clear-cut evidence for meddling in his favor. In fact, hacking or false hacking went on in the other direction fueling the Witch Hunt unleashed by the FISA application based on the Trump dossier, Russian fabricated. If Russia was meddling, it was doing so in the most bizarre fashion imaginable, “peeing in both directions,” as a Korean saying goes about a drunken fool not knowing where the piss pot is. Trump is wise to stay clear of Russian meddling as it would question the sanity of the man whose goodwill he wants to win.

(4) Airing Dirty Laundry All Over the World

The visually impaired self-righteous patriotic media cannot fathom why Trump should mention Hillary’s destroyed emails and server, his running a clean campaign, and even slime like FBI agent Strzok, all domestic issues, not for the whole world to gloat over. Never has an American President behaved so despicably at an international forum. So unseemly, un-presidential, nay treasonous!

On the contrary, the self-styled patriots in fact diminish America, thinking these matters purely domestic, dirty laundry. They underestimate the importance of what goes on in American politics to Russia and the rest of the world, all getting a real time lesson on how democracy works, with all its limitations, ultimately for application to their own politics and government. Truly un-American are these Americans, who take an insular view of their role as the path finder for the whole world (see The American Age, 6-9-2014, typakmusings.com).

Just as we Americans appreciate Donald for his candor and transparency, so does the world, lapping up whatever the President of the US airs, especially his dirty laundry, to assure them we are all human after all, no matter our circumstances.

(5) Who is the Big Winner?

Particularly pathetic is a female talking head lamenting Trump’s appearance, a wimp compared to the manly self-assured Putin. Is she jealous of Melania? Throughout the whole encounter Trump comes across as a gracious, indulgent elder ready to take anything the junior might throw at him. Nor is Putin brash or cocky. If he is indeed the big winner as the fake media would have it, at least he doesn’t lord it over the loser. In fact, the opposite is the case: right cordial, deferential, respectful is he throughout. We can feel the good vibes between the two. Collusion? Putin with something on Trump? Give me a break. The tension has snapped “4 hours ago”, Helsinki time, Jul 16, 2018, and we may have just been ushered into a new era of coexistence and peace. The verdict:

Both have won big for the whole world.

Abolish Speed Limits: US Public Enemy Number One

It is taken for granted in America that speed limits are posted to be ignored and exceeded, safely by 10 miles but, with progressive riskiness, by 20, 30, or more, “risk” here meaning not physical or mechanical danger associated with high speed but the likelihood of getting nailed by the cops. The trick is to look out for them hiding in ambush with their speed gun and slow down in time. This cat and mouse game is honed to a fine art, starting from the moment one leaves the privacy of home and jumps in the car to interact with society, with the world, where law kicks in, until he or she returns home.

Is such behavior, such mentality consistent with a conscientious law-abiding citizenry? Not at all. America will end up a country of cynics who despise and flout the law, play with it, sneak around it, the more expertly the more they learn about it, say, by going to law school, as shown recently by the DOJ and FBI lawyers shamelessly, arrogantly lying and defying the Congress, a degree of deviousness abhorrent and unthinkable to the Puritan founders of the nation.

The damage has been done, the US recording the world’s highest incarceration rate, 655 out of 100,000, which is 15 times Japan’s 45 and 6 times South Korea’s 109. The US murder rate is 5.35 per 100,000, which is 20 times Japan’s 0.28 and 8 times South Korea’s 0.7. Nor is the home safe from the inroads of fundamental duplicity mirroring the public mindset, the US divorce rate inching above 60%.

The only way to turn the tide is to take down all the speed signs and trust the individual driver’s good judgment by instituting a rigorous and thorough driver education regime prior to licensing, modeled after the fighter pilot training program. Considering the deadly consequences of mishandling an automobile, truly astonishing is the laxity with which driver licenses are handed out, seemingly in collusion with the auto industry lobby to maximize car ownership and operation. DMV should require each applicant to complete weeks or months of video assisted classes subject to tough graduation exams, followed by virtual road tests in all possible situations. Only then the applicant is taken out for an actual road test, thorough and rigorous enough to certify the right instincts and reflexes in all conceivable driving as well as parking scenarios. So licensed, the novice driver will be as good as a veteran and know not to slow down in a school zone, for example, when the school is closed and no children are around.

Only on freeways with no traffic controls physically, mechanically unsafe limits, say 100 MPH, may be enforced with electronic surveillance and automatic fining. On arrow straight roadways stretching from horizon to horizon in states like Utah 200 MPH may be considered, if auto technology supports it.

Overhaul of DOJ and Government Staffing: No Lawyers

On Jun 28, 2018, America watched in amazement Deputy Attorney General Rosenstein, currently the top law enforcement officer of the land next to Trump, thanks to Jeff Sessions, the dead man walking, fudge and dodge, refusing to answer the simple question asked by Rep. Gohmert, “Did you read the FISA application you signed?”

Understandably so, because he is caught between a rock and a hard place. To say yes is to admit that he is the ultimate villain who has unleashed the Spygate against Trump and the subsequent 2-year-long Russian collusion probe but to say no is admission of perjury for swearing to and signing an unread affidavit. Either way he goes to jail. How pitifully he wriggles, twists and turns like a worm, impaled by a hook, though one wouldn’t suspect it from his cocky smirk and demeanor.

But his first maneuver of evasion is rather stupid: he turns to FBI Director Wray seated to his right at the congressional witness table. Getting no help there and at the reminder by the impatient Congressman that the question is for him to answer Rosenstein says that he doesn’t need to read every FISA warrant he signs, that he merely need to understand what’s in it. To anyone who understands English that means, No, he hasn’t read it.

Gohmert expresses his surprise somewhat uncertainly, perhaps too shocked to believe what he has heard: “When you approve a FISA application, in your mind, does that mean you should read it and understand what’s part of it?” He should have said “you should read it,” period. If he must add anything, it would be: “and understand every part of it.” Instead, under the shock effect mentioned, he says “and understand what’s part of it”.

This is the opening he needs and Rosenstein jumps in with both feet: “You should certainly understand what’s part of it, sir.”
Belatedly realizing his error Gohmert orders Rosenstein not to “parse words” and tries to pin him down to his answer: “So, that doesn’t mean you need to read it, in your opinion – is that correct?” Actually, he intends to say, “So, that means you need not read it,” but the negative is shifted to the auxiliary verb, a frequent colloquialism. Perhaps encouraged by this grammatical slip Rosenstein unhesitatingly declares: “It depends on the circumstances.”

In exasperation Gohmert says: “Well, I am telling you, being a former felony state judge, if I had somebody like you come before me and now it was revealed later that the guy that signed and approved an application for a warrant had not even read the application that would allow spying on somebody, I would look at everything he signed from then on with a jaundiced eye.” And let that guy go on signing applications, whether looked at with a jaundiced eye or not, instead of throwing him in jail immediately?

Eventually we learn that as supervisor of over a hundred thousand employees he routinely signs off on thousands of documents all the time, apparently not reading but understanding it by telepathy, hearsay, or something and that only partially. How can Congress with its duty of oversight let these arrogant clowns occupy such high positions? Or is it the built-in impotence of Congress, as one may wonder watching the game Rosenstein is allowed to play with Congressional demand for documents? With a smug, taunting smile he says he has produced over a million. Irrelevant trash intended to head off and drown Congress, whereas only a fraction of what is really wanted has been served up, and that heavily “redacted”, that is, blacked out, speciously for national security’s sake. Baloney! Upon restoration, because there is technology for it, it is innocuous stuff, security-wise, but dynamite, destroying the integrity and credibility of Rosenstein and company.

Frustrated and disgusted, Rep. Gowdy tells Rosenstein to wrap up the whole Russia probe, which is tearing the nation apart. Indeed, it is a pity this tragicomedy is allowed to drag on. But there may be a silver lining. In the end Congress will get what it wants. Summoned to testify are the rank and file staffers of the DOJ ad FBI, some bound to blow the whistle on the collusion among the top dogs, Rosenstein, Wray, and others, all deeply involved in a vast corruption scheme, like coverup for Hillary’s uranium deal, and send the whole lot of them to jail.

Will the system remain clean and wholesome after their purge? Not if staffed with another crop of lawyers, professionally trained to fudge and dodge expertly like Rosenstein. Maybe it’s high time lawyers were barred from government employment, especially DOJ. Most legal work can be done by college freshman interns, thanks to the internet, video, and other devices. When necessary outside contractors can be consulted for a flat fee. We certainly don’t need lawyers in the upper echelons of government, to sign off without reading. See how America is getting great again with Trump at the helm rather than a career politician, that is, a lawyer. We need many more businessmen, engineers, builders, doctors, and other real-life experts in government, not politicians. The very idea of anyone making a career of government service should make us puke (see Manifesto of Radical Democracy, 5-25-2014, typakmusings.com).

Trump, the Eternal Juvenal

On Jun 28, 2018 in Mt Pleasant, WI, President Trump broke ground for the construction of a $10 billion Foxconn electronics manufacturing plant to produce half or more of all the electronic devices in use throughout the world. But this is the tip of the iceberg. Committed is the infusion of 10 times as much Foxconn capital to get the plant going, which would in turn trigger the influx of even more from all over. “The 8th Wonder of the World,” Trump rhapsodizes and so should the rest of America. The economy is really turning around and this is just the beginning.

But there is a typical Trumpian twist in handing out merit badges and honorable mentions. Complimenting Governor Scott Walker of Wisconsin, “a very talented person,” on “running 2,000 yards” with the ball passed to him, that is, paving the way to locate Foxconn in Mt Pleasant, he immediately regrets conceding so much to a potential adversary. “That comment will come back to haunt me,” he says, in all sincerity, and, continuing with the football analogy, adds that he hopes Scott won’t “run” against him.

Is this presidential, hanging out his juvenal combativeness, still stuck on his campaign trail, because he never saw beyond it and still can’t believe he is President because he isn’t, no matter the electoral verdict, a fraud and collusion, soon to be exposed and trashed, as his haters vow?

The answer is a resounding yes. He is paying a genuine, heart-felt compliment, every bit presidential, in the true sense of it (see Manifesto of Radical Democracy, 5-25-2014, typakmusings.com), neither truckling nor fawning. Donald elevates Scott to presidential candidacy capable of challenging him in 2020. Such is his esteem for contributions to the 8th Wonder of the World. But, acutely aware of the temporary tenure of his office at the pleasure and sufferance of his master, the people, he voices his opinion as an equal to Scott or anyone at all, not some superior being on his high horse handing out grades and medals. If that is juvenile, then so be it, the mind set we want of all our elected servants.

Let him tweet, speak off the cuff, putting his foot in his mouth now and then, and never grow up through his two terms, so etched indelibly on the psyche of every American, especially his successors and other office seekers, will be his basic humility.

Indolence of the Lion (Alpha Male): No Longer Defense for Slobs

There were days when husbands, nagged by their wives for being a slob, not picking up or cleaning up, doing the dishes, laundry, or other work around the house, could get away with it by playing an animal kingdom video: after lazing about, yawning and sleeping, while the lionesses pant and work a whole day to bring down prey, the lion saunters up lordly to the kill, driving them off, and gorges on the choicest part. No more, unless they risk direr consequences than nagging, like divorce.

The toil of housekeeping, coupled with child raising, is now widely appreciated with vocal demands for its elevation to a multi-level profession of expertise and skill to be certified and degreed. However dignified and ennobled, its hardship is bound to motivate women, whether highly educated and professionally trained or not, to get out of the house to find a job and make money to hire others to do the work, especially in times of full employment. But this exodus from home in turn creates shortage of labor willing to stay there and jacks up the wages. Gone are the days when one could get a babysitter for a song, maybe a meal or two and some change. Now $25 per hour is the going rate. Someone fresh off the boat with no schooling or English can hold out for a fully furnished HVAC room plus a substantial salary, say $3,000 a month as a live-in. Moreover anathema are job titles like “domestic help” or “au pair”: it is “domestic care provider” on the same level of respectability as lawyer, doctor, or engineer. As a result, unless the wife has a 7-digit or higher income, the job that enables her flight from home ends up barely paying the domestic hire at home, making no financial sense.

That’s why a slob can no longer cite the indolence of the lion as argument for his preferred lifestyle. He must either earn enough to afford a domestic provider or get off his butt and serve as one. Of course the logic is double edged and cuts both ways. Wives, if the traditional roles are reversed, you bringing home the bacon and your spouse staying home, treat your “house husband” with respect and pitch in.

A comment on the female leonine docility touched upon above. It’s mind boggling why the lionesses put up with the lion’s brutish conduct with no consideration for his female folk. Granted he is stronger than any one of them but, highly intelligent team players, they can easily gang up on him and tear him to pieces in no time, if they have a mind to. Instead, they slink away from their fruit of labor to return for the leftovers after his departure.

In obedience to some genetic code fashioned over millions of years of evolution? But evolution is supposed to promote the survival of the species. How does the pride benefit from the lion’s utterly selfish behavior? As a mighty defender against harm? The only threat he ever responds to seems the appearance of a stray male trying to muscle in for a piece of the harem. To secure his sexual security he fights off the intruder with life and death ferocity but the benefit to the pride or species is dubious: the intruder may have donated superior genes. From their growls and hisses of unmistakable though futile anger as they skulk off to let the lion feed, they clearly question the wisdom of their gender-wide deference to the brute but are unable to figure out the next step: coup d’etat. At least their human counterparts are not that dumb and would, given the same provocations, up and throw him over and run off to the first stranger that comes along in a heart beat, no matter he turns out just as brutish or worse.

True Globalism: A Review of The Polyglot: Union of Korea and Japan, amazon.com

Editor’s Note: The following review of The Polyglot: Union of Korea and Japan is copied from its Reader Column, amazon.com, by permission. The reviewer is Dr. Paul Sharar, 87, formerly on the NYU faculty and YMCA national director.

As a psychologist and YMCA director with broad experience with international groups I am delighted with Ty Pak’s novel, The Polyglot, for its combination of pertinent themes relevant to our world today, its salient and imaginative story line, its clearly drawn characters placed in a revealing history of an era he knows well and we all need to know better, and its focus on the many ways we communicate with one another with language-attitudes-tones-inflections-double meanings-misunderstandings all in a split second.
Dipping to the depths of depravity with clinical detachment and realism, the work soars to the heights of nobility, painted on a wide canvas, the whole globe, with characters ranging from the top rulers to the masses, a seemingly random sampling of them revealing a world of wonder, pathos, triumph, grandeur, especially as the ranks interact, showing how our lives are determined largely by luck and chance, the uncertainty binding us all and teaching us humility, understanding, forgiveness, love.
Early on there is a shocking and heart-breaking scene where Ina, 27, a brilliant surgeon, renounces maternity of her 2-year-old boy Peter as well as wifehood to her poet laureate husband, after coming all the way to Vladivostok from Japan occupied Korea to join him, only to find he has a second pregnant wife so committed to keeping him that she threatens with a pistol to Ina’s head to kill her and her son unless Ina renounces her marriage and gives her son to the second wife to raise with her soon to be born child, and never to make contact again.
This concession by Ina regarding Peter’s birth holds the key to the development of the story that takes place between 1919 and 1960 when Korea is forced to wake up to the modern age. The Stalin forced transport of Siberian Koreans to central Asia during which Peter is able to save many from death, China and Russia’s drive to make Korea communist, the US efforts to keep WW II outcomes in place, Japan’s economic revitalization all add to the evolving complexity of the story as Peter with an amazing gift for languages, speaking 16 with native fluency due to his forced trials, is pushed into many different leadership roles in these nations before, during and after the Korean War.
Then Peter’s identity is shattered, his old Soviet birth certificate turns out to be a fraud. Peter’s poet father assumed to have died in a Soviet gulag has been in the US, teaching literature at an American university, and is comatose with renal failure after contacting Peter. The kidney transplant campaign to save him leads to the discovery of Peter’s real parentage. His mother is Ina, as we have all known though hidden from him, but the DNA test for the kidney transplant shows his biological father is Japanese, not the patriotic Korean poet.
Hence the propriety of the eye-catching subtitle, Union of Korea and Japan, to this edition of The Polyglot. At first glance, given the history of the two countries, the idea seems an improbable fantasy. Not so with Peter, whose biology with Korean and Japanese parentage is an embodiment of this union. Nominated US Ambassador to South Korea but running into opposition from both Korea and Japan, who see him as 50% not like them, Peter calls on them to see him as 50% like them and to federate, especially in view of their common origins 10 millennia ago judging from the affinity of their two languages, as well as their close DNA. Nor is the federation proposed a ceremonial fellowship like the British Commonwealth but a functional polity like the USA.
Ty Pak gets us to think beyond regional geopolitical expedients and look once again at the possibilities for our global community to bring nations, languages, and cultures together. If Koreans and Japanese with their deep historical resentments will try, so might the rest of the world.

The Black White Cure for Racism

The influx into South Korea of thousands of black skinned but anatomically white, that is, Caucasian featured immigrants from India, Bangladesh, Sri Lanka may have solved the labor needs of its booming economy but, given its negrophobia and caucasophilia, creates an epistemological crisis (see Caucasian Mutation of Korean Faces, 4-4-2015, typakmusings.com): what to make of the contradiction, black white.

Ever resilient, however, they get over their bewilderment quickly enough by falling back on their instinct for survival: smile at those titled and affluent but scowl otherwise (see Mr. Khan, a Bangladeshi Single Father in Korea, typakusings.com).

In the process, however, they cannot help rethinking their former paradigm of racism, black at the bottom, white at the top, with themselves somewhere in between or outside. The lines are definitely blurring and areas overlapping to make the trichotomy practically meaningless. Every person must be judged on his or her own individual merits, regardless of color or anatomy.

But that’s abolition of racism called for by sensible people everywhere (The Polyglot: Union of Korea and Japan, amazon.com). So the Indian subcontinent that has sent its black white sons and daughters to South Korea is to be credited with initiating, if not completing, its liberation from the hell of racial prejudice. Perhaps the same kudos should go to the huge black-white swath from Morocco to the Middle East, home to the Moors, Libyans, Egyptians, Arabs, Iranians, Iraquis, Afghans, and so forth, for the relative racial tolerance among Europeans and Africans.

Should we therefore import the black-whites from India and its Middle Eastern and North African extension to make America racism free? Not so fast. The black whites themselves may be the fiercest racists that kill. Extreme vetting is necessary before admission. Moreover, they are already here in strength, as many as 7 million or 2% of the American population. South Korea did it with little over 10,000 or 0.02% of its population.

Candor about Age: Step One in the Anti-Privacy Movement

Liberation from obsession with privacy is the first priority for America’s survival from terrorism (see Privacy or Safety, 12-27-2013, and Scan Our Faces All You Want, 7-14-2017, typakmusings.com) but also for true civilization, predicated on socialization, getting to know neighbors, near and far, and becoming friends, on exposure and vulnerability by pulling down the multiple walls of privacy that cocoon Americans.

The Anti-Privacy Movement proposes demolition of the first wall, age: no more coyness about telling your age nor disdain for innocent inquiries by those from other cultures, East Asian in particular (see Quit Pussyfooting Around Your Age, 1-21-2018).

To go beyond passive endurance, however, urged is proactive use of age as a social ice breaker instead of the inane weather. Ask each other how old you are, talk about your years, events, highlights, celebrities, villains. You’ll soon be exchanging phone numbers, email addresses, and become friends forever, no matter your race, creed, or culture.

Quit Pussyfooting Around Your Age, America!

Watching the extravaganza of fireworks at midnight, Dec 31, 2017, livestreamed from all over the world, including North Korea, of all places, Americans may well rethink their political correctness or taboo about asking or telling one’s age. Those in the Sinosphere, namely, China, Japan, and Korea, accounting for more than a quarter of the world’s population, grow exactly one year older at the same time promptly after midnight, Dec 31, and freely ask and tell each other how old they have gotten.

That’s absurd, you may say, because it’s counting age by the year of birth, resulting in 365 people born on different days of the year having the same age. Not any more than 24 x 60 x 60 x (1 million microseconds or billion nanoseconds if you want to go that far) people born on the same day having the same age.

Of course even these Orientals have their own birthdays and celebrate them but strictly as a birthday, not as a turning point in age. If a date-based American-style age is required for the military draft, to determine adulthood, etc., they use the term “age” with a modifier “full”.

In any event East Asians have never had the kind of American shyness about age. Maybe counting by the year makes them more cosmically aware and dismissive of dissimulation, especially when it’s futile. The body trumpets it no matter how you disguise it. Let’s face it. One simply grows to maturity, is the master of the universe for a season, then wilts. This grim realization is tempered by respect for the elderly, the weak and unproductive, the quintessence of which is the Social Security Act. So your heart is in the right place, America. It’s just that darn fancy of yours, political correctness about age.

Winterize but Ventilate: Korean “Winter Pallor”

With temperatures dipping to single digits or below zero Fahrenheit in many parts of the country American homeowners bemoan their neglect to winterize, weather-strip, draft stop, staring at their higher heating bills. But don’t be too hard on yourself. You may be paying for better health.

Until the middle of the last century Koreans stayed indoors for months, battening down the hatches as soon as the winter laid siege, proud to emerge in the spring with their “white skin” restored. This was pre-Caucasophilia (see Caucasian Mutation of Korean Faces, 4-4-2015, typakmusings.com), before the country opened up in a hurry to the outside world with the avalanche of American troops, mostly Caucasian, during the Korean War (1950-53), and of Western technology, economy, and culture afterwards, which reinforced the traditional obsession with white skin, the emblem of aristocracy, freedom from manual labor under the scorching sun.

Of course they didn’t know any better about their wonderful winter-reclaimed pallor, an unmistakable symptom of incipient hypoxemia, low oxygen in blood, due to the poor indoor air quality, and paid for it with tuberculosis and other diseases, dying young.

Let’s not have that Korean “winter pallor” in enlightened America. Winterize by all means but ventilate by opening a window or two for a few minutes a day.

Anatomy of Prayer

Everybody prays. Nobody is too strong, too smart, too proud to pray. But, as we all know by experience, answers are slow in coming, if ever. This is why.

While you are praying for Outcome A (say, you get the Nobel Prize), there may be others who may secretly wish, a weak form of prayer, if not outwardly or expressly pray, that Outcome A never happens because they think you haven’t got what it takes or they simply hate your guts, as the case may be.

All seeing, all knowing, and omnipresent, God hears all these prayers, whispered or spoken, from everybody, including those sent up from the departed, whether dearly beloved or otherwise. In general, you can count on your ancestors rooting for you, though some may not have forgiven you for the mean things you’ve done to them while alive, but you can bet your bottom dollar that your enemy’s ancestors will be raising a hell of a chorus to defeat your suit.

Imagine a crowded court, much bigger than any on earth, but God the omniscient, a supercomputer, hears every testimony, weighs one against another and metes out his decision. So just keep praying fervently and you’ll hear from him, hopefully soon.

Hate Mongers: True Name for the Fake Media

On this Christmas Day of 2017, as we hear church bells ringing joy to the world for the lord of love has come, one cannot help being struck by the perversity of the fake media that reported the gathering of Christian leaders Trump addressed on Oct 13, 2017 as a hate group, because hate is the furthest thing from their minds, as they celebrate Christmas, calling it Christmas again thanks to Trump, unless love is hate by some arcane psychoanalytic reasoning.

No, there is no hint of that. Nor are they all that cerebral. They mean hate when they say hate. But what they call hate is in fact the opposite, love. It’s like calling white black. How can they do that?

Because somewhere along the line in their education their minds got distorted, most probably from their enlightened education, learning about other life styles, cultures, languages, and, yes, religions, without perspective. Just as those of my generation born in the 20’s and 30’s of Korea were fascinated with Marxism, so are these new intelligentsia with Islam and the Middle East. Let’s face it. To learn a language, say, Arabic, is to embrace its history, culture, and religion, jihadism in particular, whose Commandment #1 is: Hate the hate group, Christians, and their leaders, like Trump who wants to call Christmas Christmas instead of Holiday, which would have relativized Christianity and canonized Islam.

Lest the unwary and indifferent be misled and take at face value what the fakers report, we should call them by their correct name: hate mongers. Yes, they want to infect America with an epidemic of hatred, knowing that it will gut and destroy America from inside. This calling a love group bar none a hate group is a frontal attack strategy they have recently come up with. The lexical inversion is particularly effective because Christianity, that is, love, in one form or another, is all over America, and their defacement or distortion into hatred, its opposite, would be the shortest path to victory.

We know they pray fervently for our destruction, since their attempts at doing real damage have been thwarted promptly by Homeland Security, Trump led and inspired. Thank God their prayers are not heard. In fact, prayer in general is not meant to be heard. If it were, then life would be really messy. God is apparently not easily swayed and grants our prayers after much deliberation or never, which may frustrate some of us, even to the point of cursing and renouncing him forever, as it happened in South Korea when 299 high schoolers drowned in the sinking of the Sewol ferry on Apr 16, 2014 despite fervent prayers by Christians (see 4-27-2014 typakmusings.com). But resist the temptation and think of God, the omniscient, unequivocally saying no to the jihadist prayer for our annihilation.

E Duobus Unum: Love Among Siblings with Different (Mother or Father) Surnames

E duobus unum (one out of two) shall be the motto of Neo-Feminism, the movement to ensure maternal as well as paternal lineage. Just as e pluribus unum (one out of many) was chosen to bring the 13 colonies into one nation, the Neo-Feminist motto ushers in a new age, where true gender equality reigns, unleashing the tremendous potential of women suppressed heretofore to nurture humanity to greater heights of achievement and civilization.

The motto is designed to dispel any concern about division or discord in the nuclear family on account of different surnames. Children have no sense of alienation from their brothers or sisters on account of having different personal (first and/or middle) names and adding a second or third element to their identity won’t bother them. Moreover, if the millions from different continents and cultures can live together, enjoying the miracle that is the United States, surely two groups, consanguineous but with mother or father surnames, should certainly get along and be loving brothers and sisters.

E duobus unum is best illustrated by the two prime ministers of Japan: Nobusuke Kishi (1957-60) and Eisaku Sato (l964-72), both siblings with the same father and mother. Their different surnames are the result of Kishi’s adoption by the wealthy Kishi family, not by Neo-Feminism, but the brothers’ continued love and support throughout their lives proves the point of Neo-Feminism, highlighted by the following excerpt from The Polyglot (Amazon.com).

********************************

Ike and Kishi stayed close together and mixed small talk with references to politics, both feeling totally at ease because of Peter’s unobtrusive but thoroughly reassuring translation. At one point Kishi beckoned to one of his companions and introduced him to Eisenhower.
“Meet Eisaku Sato, my Minister of Finance, who is also my brother.”
“It’s remarkable to have two brothers so prominent in government service. So who is the elder?”
“He is five years senior to me, Mr. President,” said Sato.
“But the real boss in our ruling Liberal Democratic Party,” Kishi added, “he defers to me because I am older but his buddies are impatient to put him in my place.”
Sato was to serve three terms as Prime Minister from l964 to 1972, the longest tenure as Prime Minister in Japanese history.
“It must be truly gratifying to work as partners in adult life, as well as being siblings in private life. I know the post of Minister of Finance is the most vital in the Japanese cabinet, in any cabinet, like the Treasury in the States and the Exchequer in Britain, Mr. Kishi.”
“I am Sato, Mr. President. We have different surnames.”
“Oh, you are half brothers with different fathers.”
“No, we have the same biological father as well as mother.”
“Is there something I have missed about Japanese culture? I thought the children took the father’s name there as here.”
Puzzled, Ike turned to Peter, forcing him out of his transparency as translating medium.
“They do in general, Mr. President, but in some rare cases they take the mother’s name, when there is no claimed father or more importantly when the father marries into the wife’s family on condition of adopting her family’s when its line might come to an end for lack of a male heir. But in every case the children would take one or the other, and not both to have different names from each other. Early on Prime Minister Kishi left his birth family because he was adopted by the affluent Kishi family.”
Sato, who had followed the English, smiled and said, in Japanese, “You seem well acquainted with our pedigree.”
“Your families are among the most preeminent in Japan.”
“As a Kishi my elder brother Nobusuke has been a lot of help to the Satos.”
“No, Eisaku did it all on his own, passing the senior civil service examination quite young and distinguishing himself in all the posts he was assigned to.”

***********************

It may be noted that Kishi happens to be the maternal grandfather of Shinzo Abe, Japan’s current Prime Minister (2006-7, 2012-present). Had the country known Neo-Feminism in the 50’s when Abe was born, he could very well be Shinzo Kishi now. Nobusuke might be turning in his grave with vexation at this lost opportunity for his lineage.

Americans Worship God, not Government: Korean Royal Laundry

CNN has done it again: immortalize Trump for coinage of an aphorism, Americans worship God, not government, bound to embed in the American psyche.
Who needs a friend when you have an enemy like CNN?

Unnoticed by most of us this priceless jewel, delivered a couple of months ago on Oct 13, 2017, at an annual gathering of Christian leaders, dubbed a “hate group” by fakers, would have sunk into oblivion. But CNN, the faker bar none, wouldn’t let it. In its relentless vendetta against Trump CNN has one of its harpies air the clip, cocksure that she would hogtie him once and for all as a Christian bigot. On the contrary, she has only energized and consolidated his base, the majority that has put him in office.

Moreover, by his decisive repudiation of government as an object of worship, he parts company with kings of old or some heads of state even today. Unspoiled by pomp and circumstance as President he has no illusions of his divinity (see Magna Carta 12-20-2013 and Radical Democracy 5-25-2014, typakmusings.com), nor would he tolerate, let alone encourage, servility, bowing and scraping, as if he were God, epitomized by Korean royal laundry. A Korean king routinely rewarded his loyal servants, prime ministers, generals, eulogists, as the case may be, with his soiled clothes, the awardee falling apart in gratitude. Donald would not dream of giving his laundry to Kelly, Mattis, or Hannity, nor would they appreciate the favor.

But in this regard they are exceeded by CNN and other fake media goons, who may spit at him (on pain of criminal prosecution for assault and battery), but not wear his laundry nor bow and scrape, thereby acting as disinfectant to keep a democracy from spoiling into an autocracy.

But no matter how contemptuous, they should keep their eyes open, because the penalty otherwise is suicidal. It is blindness that has driven them to bog the nation down in frivolous Russian investigation, tying up its resources, legislative, judicial, and administrative, and preventing their proper use to make America great again.

Gender Equality: No More 출가외인, Married and Dumped

This is another appeal for the equality of the sexes, that is, the elevation of women to the same status as that of men.

Men, abandon your built-in arrogance, your unconscious male chauvinism. It’s time you owned up to the gross injustice your race has done to women.

Women, where is your pride and passion for feminism, for gender equality? Rise up in indignation and wrath and seize your dignity, immortal identity.

The single most formidable obstacle to gender equality is patronymics or naming children after the father’s family name, either by law or by custom, the mother’s identity thereby lost forever. This lack of lineage is the single most powerful reason why sons are preferred everywhere and daughters considered a burden soon to be ejected, most shamelessly and brutally expressed in the pitiless Korean phrase, 출가외인, married and dumped, as if the daughter had never been.

We of Neo-Feminism propose to correct this injustice, not by abolition of patronymics, though that seems fair enough in view of accumulated injustice over the millennia, but by implementation of matronymics, so men and women have an equal chance to pass on their family names. In a few generations equality of lineage will result globally and women, now capable of lineal descent, will no longer be the inferior sex.

Neo-Feminism: Movement for Women’s Right to Keep and Pass On Their Family Names

For the sake of brevity Neo-Feminism is the name by which is to be known henceforth our Movement for Women’s Right to Keep and Pass On Their Family Names, launched on 11-11-2017, typakmusings.com.

In a recent meeting of Neo-Feminists the following resolutions have been adopted.

1. Neo-Feminism

This shall be the official title of the movement, subject to reconsideration.

2. Prospective Implementation

The proposed measures, retention of the wife’s maiden name and equal proration of parental names for children, are prospective and not retroactive, as the latter may be unduly disruptive. Neo-Feminists are conservatives, not revolutionaries, and espouse the spirit of the U.S. Constitution prohibiting ex post facto legislation (Article 1, Section 9, Clause 3).

3. Paranoia about Different Clans in the Same Family

There is the fear voiced by some that different surnames in the family may be divisive. But it is paranoia, dispelled upon reflection.

We are dealing with two names, father’s and mother’s, not a multiple. If duality is acceptable for parents, so it is for their offspring. If nothing else, it will be a tribute to the awesome mystery and beauty of sexual reproduction.

The children, given their different surnames at birth, will grow up, thinking nothing of it. The concern for divisiveness is the relic of the pre-Movement era, destined to disappear in one generation upon demise of the parents.

4. Agenda

As the Movement attains critical mass, it will have an office and staff to maintain the Register, contact the media, and organize awareness events, conferences, rallies, etc. Also at this point the Movement will apply for donations from organizations and individuals such as the Clinton Foundation, whose founders have only a daughter and the Obamas who also have only daughters.

5. Registration as a Non-Profit and Trademark

The Movement will be registered in New Jersey as a nonprofit along with its trademark, Neo-Feminism, and articles of incorporation. However, other states may be considered as its national and global base.

6. Subscription to Neo-Feminism

To join the Movement send in your name for inclusion in the Neo-Feminist Register, along with your affirmation of support and any particulars about yourself you care to share with the membership, such as your profession, family history, phone number, mailing address, etc. to typakmusings.com@gmail.com or dr.youngicklee@gmail.com. No dues or donation is solicited.

Movement for Women’s Right to Keep and Pass On Their Family Names

We call on all good people of the world to rise up and give their women true equality by letting them keep and pass on their family names to their children.

It is downright unfair and mean to deny them this right to lineage, to immortality, that men take for granted as they marry. It is in fact no less a crime than matricide (No More Matricide, 1-17-2014, typakmusings.com).

America is very much behind the Europeans in this all important effort to right the wrong humanity has been guilty of for thousands of millennia.

In 1978 the Council of Europe declared equality of rights in the transmission of family names. Likewise, in 1979, the United Nations adopted a Convention calling for gender equal rights to choose a “family name”. Similar measures were anticipated by Germany (1976) and adopted by Sweden (1982), Denmark (1983), Spain (1999), France (2005), and Italy (2014).

Gender equality in surnaming children is a moral and practical imperative worldwide as we go forward with civilization in the 3rd millennium. (1) It will end global preference for male lineal heirs, (2) prevent female feticide and infanticide, practiced on a massive scale in China, for example, under its one-child policy, and (3) stop overpopulation, as couples with daughters won’t keep having more children just to get a son.

For immediate implementation we therefore propose the following procedure:

1. First Child to Take the Mother’s Surname

This is only fair to make amends for humanity’s accumulated wrongs, unless the mother agrees otherwise.

2. Alternation among Subsequent Children

In other words, the 2nd child after the father, 3rd the mother, 4th the father, and so on.

In case of an odd number, the last one will be given either parent’s by drawing lots or by consent of the resulting minority parent.

3. Maiden Name After Marriage

Upon marriage a woman shall retain her surname and not change to her husband’s.

In particular there shall no longer be the monstrosity, hyphenation of both spouses’ surnames.

3.1. First, it is unequal, because the husband gets to keep his family name, smugly looking on his inferior partner’s contortions. On the off chance he adopts the hyphenation, he would probably insist on having his surname as the first element of the compound.

3.2. Secondly, the hyphenated form cannot be bequeathed to the children. In the unlikely event it is, the hyphenated child may marry another hyphenated child, whereupon we end up with multiple hyphenations.

All who agree with this cause to realize gender equality are invited to send in their names and other identifying information to typakmusings.com@gmail.com for inclusion in the national, nay, global register of membership in the Movement for Women’s Right to Keep and Pass On Their Family Names.

Goodbye to God

Gathered at our house in Norwood, NJ, on Sunday, Sep 24, 2017, is the whole tribe to celebrate the end of summer, though conspicuously absent and sorely missed are our oldest granddaughter now up at Brandeis as freshman and our other son and his family in Korea.

First to arrive is our nephew, unattached and eager to revisit the place where he has stayed his first summer on the East Coast, followed by our daughter, her husband, and twin daughters, exactly on time, 4:30 p.m. Not too soon for our son-in-law in charge of the first barbecue outdoors on the deck breaking in the brand new propane gas grill. He checks out the equipment and starts working on pans of marinated chicken and spare ribs of beef, while my wife adds the last-minute touches to the all organic salad bar.

Our daughter and her twin girls return from their workout at the tennis court to find that our youngest son, his wife, 21-month old daughter, and grandma haven’t arrived yet, a full hour past the start time, egregious even by his standards though he is stopping at a gourmet restaurant in Piermont to pick up some pasta dishes. Disappointed, because the girls have hoped to have their uncle join them at the tennis court, and heading for different bathrooms to wash up, they swear us to a pact to tell him henceforth to come one hour ahead of the real time.

Finally all accounted for and the barbecue completed, they surround the table and ask me to bless the food, catching me by surprise. I have had plenty of notice but procrastinated, thinking I would need only one hour to compose and memorize, but got distracted by little errands and emergencies.

“You do it,” I order my daughter. As a corporate lawyer she has the poise and gravitas and has emceed and moderated numerous gatherings but, above all, she has the real faith under my wife’s influence. “Be the chaplain for the occasion.”

“No, you should be it, Dad,” she refuses out of filial piety, Korean style. Even if she were the Pope herself, she would defer to me, thinking this wretched business a privilege rather than a burden.

“Just get it over with, Dad,” barks her husband, an experienced moderator having been a managing director at Goldman Sachs and chaired charities and nonprofits. But I cannot bounce the ball back to him. A son-in-law is not like your own son, not that the latter are any more tractable. Look at my youngest, who chooses to be an hour late. But to them I can shout an order, not expecting to be obeyed, but not to my son-in-law, with whom I must be on my best behavior at all times. The Korean saying goes: “Son-in-laws are guests forever.”

I am under tremendous pressure. Here are my two teenage granddaughters and one 21-month-old just learning to say a few words. I have to mind my manners, none of the heathen stuff I pull with my wife. It’s not that I am an atheist. I am not that brave. When something close to my heart is at stake like health or work of myself or my children and grandchildren, I am begging abjectly on my knees for God to help. It’s just that I know too much, growing up in Korea going to the temple, burning incense and bowing down to the statue of a fat Oriental buddha sitting with his legs crossed and folded. Simultaneously and more persistently we went to our ancestral tombs on New Year’s, Jan 1, or on Autumn Eve, Aug 15, by the lunar calendar. Also I had Christianity from my father who went to an American missionary school in Japan and my mother, a born again Christian. Then I married a pastor’s daughter who married me to save my soul. Living in the States I have of course learned about Hinduism and Islam with its Jihadist agenda and many others throughout the globe, each sacred for the believer but inane or downright insane to the outsider.

I plunge in and zip through, “Thank you, Lord, for bringing us all together on this last Sunday of the summer. Bless the hands that have prepared the food. Also bless our work, our studies, our projects and plans. Let us all eat heartily and have fun. Goodbye!”

The gale of laughter subsides with my son-in-law’s authoritative comment, “You’ve been doing this for years and are getting worse.”

“Goodbye?” my wife shakes her head in disgust. “What happened to Amen, your usual hurried ending, if not the proper one, In the name of my savior Jesus Christ?”

“I don’t know,” I blush and stammer, genuinely befuddled, because Goodbye has never been part of the inventory before.

“Every night I have corrected him for the last 40 years,” she continues. “Even a dog at a temple learns to chant the sutras after three years but not your Dad.”

Yes, she makes me pray every night before going to bed, which is not hard, as I get to pray for my children and grandchildren, but my hasty Amen must be followed up each time with the correction, “In the name of my savior Jesus Christ.”

“Give him a break,” comes my daughter to my rescue. “He was having a tete-a-tete with God and bidding goodbye when done.”

“That’s it,” I grab at the lifeline. “I am so into it, because I am talking straight from the heart to God. That’s how prayer should end, with plain Goodbye and no denominational, sectarian, or other signature.”

“We’ll talk about it later,” my wife warns ominously, rushing off as the oven alarm goes off for the heated pasta.

The Axiom of Reciprocity

A 79-year-old Korean American resident of New Jersey writes to his 34-year-old nephew, his younger sister’s son, from California, who has stayed the whole summer of 2017 at his house, attending community college.

Aug 23, 2017

Dear Tom,

Congratulations on your excellent grades for all the intensive summer courses. Determined as you are to make up for the years lost you’ll keep up the momentum to complete BA and post-graduate degrees and pursue a professional career.

You are also to be commended for saving enough money in a few weeks, working part time, to finance a trip home over the Labor Day holiday, proof that you are a capable adult who need not depend on the charity of your relatives or friends. Dependence is despicable, because it violates the fundamental principle of life, reciprocity. That’s why I have told everybody that you were staying with us only for a short visit.

The time has come for us to end that visit as it has become untenable. We have been avoiding each other, a relatively easy proposition because your semi-basement suite is accessible through the garage without intruding on us. For meals, however, you have to come upstairs to the kitchen on the first level, making sure I am not there eating. But occasional brushes are inevitable and I beat a hasty retreat to my study grabbing whatever containers of food at hand to give you free rein. Obviously, we can’t go on like this.

In hindsight we shouldn’t have embarked on our communal experiment. Your Mom sounded upbeat, telling me that she and your father were finally closing on the sale of their Japanese restaurant in San Francisco, and I thought they must have cleared a million bucks at least. In the next breath, however, she said their net was zero after paying off accumulated debts, including the 10-year-old debt of some $50,000 to Brenda, my daughter. Penniless, they were moving in with your brother Frank and his wife Liz, both doctors in Los Angeles, to be their infant son’s full time babysitters. But when asked about you, she said matter-of-factly that you would be left where you were to fend for yourself, Frank’s two-bedroom apartment being overcrowded as it was. All I had heard about you was that you had dropped out of college after falling into bad company and got addicted to drugs but had miraculously kicked the habit and worked as sushi chef at your parents’ and other restaurants.

I don’t know whether it was your Mom misleading me, knowing how I always felt about her (I was 12 and she 1, when our father died in October 1950 during the Korean war) or me overreacting and misreading the signals. It just tore me up to hear her ending up with nothing after working her butt off for 20 years and going off to live in Los Angles leaving you behind, evocative of black family members being sold off to different owners in the olden days. Of course the analogy is all wrong because there was no such tragedy afoot. You had been on your own and not living with your parents for quite some time. Also your parents are parents, not live-in servants, to Frank and Liz, who were buying a multi-bedroom house to accommodate them. But the imagery of slavery stuck and compelled me to step in as the magnanimous uncle to keep the family together. I gave your Mom enough money for all three of you to come over for a visit to my house in New Jersey after the sale closed. In addition, I told her you could stay with us, if you so chose. Obsessed by the urgency to prevent the crisis of family breakup, I had given little or no thought to post-crisis management, except some vague notion that the arrangement might turn out mutually beneficial over the long haul. You could get a good job as a sushi chef and bring home left over sashimi, or help with house cleaning, maintenance, or remodeling. We might even go into business together, buying old houses and remodeling, then selling for profit. In other words, I hoped for some monetary or other return for your room and board, worth at least $3,000 a month, the sum offered by a Korean family wanting us to take in their high school child. Naturally I was miffed, when you came enrolled in community college, so you could go on to be a doctor like Frank this late in your life. Not only was there to be no big payoff from your live-in labor but, unbeknownst to me, I was inextricably committed to making huge scholarship payments, a suspicion confirmed soon enough.

Preoccupied with job hunting and school work you couldn’t spare any of yourself for us but even if you had all the time in the world you wouldn’t have bothered. A born slob you don’t even clean your suite, let alone the rest of the house. I hinted at thinking out of the box and going into construction, rather than following the academic routine, and you dismissed it out of hand. With a visceral aversion to manual labor in general you refused to continue as a chef and opted for salesmanship at a department store though I couldn’t see much difference.

Your careless wastefulness got on my nerves. There was plenty of natural light but you turned on all the lights and wouldn’t turn them off when leaving the house. Despite numerous reminders you flipped the wrong switch and turned on the outdoor lights. It’s a wonder our Samsung washer and dryer are still holding up after such abuse from all your laundry, not only your daily quota of sweat-drenched clothes explained below but what you had brought over from San Francisco, including blankets, mats, tennis shoes. Then there was your gargantuan appetite, about five times mine. We had no choice but to refuse supporting your no carb “royal diet,” a typical meal consisting of a couple of pounds of animal protein mixed in a 12-inch diameter metal bowl, for no ordinary plate would serve the purpose, with spinach, kimchee, dwenjang stew, red pepper sauce, etc. (but no rice or noodle we plebeians eat), and you started buying pork, steak, and chicken, but not the other Korean dishes, doubling, tripling Auntie’s visits to the Korean supermarket and delis with their toll on her colitis. Since you started cooking, the paper towel on the two holders had to be replaced in a matter of days, not weeks, and the dish washing liquid refilled three times quicker, not to mention the torrents of water, always hot, splashed and wasted, not metered to trickles, always cold, as before.

To seal the leak in your shower door I needed the stall to be dry and told you to shower upstairs or, better still, at the 24-hour fitness center where you went every day without fail, which would incidentally shrink our water and gas bill big time because you showered prodigiously. I was astounded by your flat refusal, though it made absolutely no sense not to wash off all the sweat worked up and let it soil the clothes. I saw it only as some kind of malice to go on wasting my gas and water but the reason given was inconvenience of carrying in all your stuff. What stuff other than a towel and soap, unless you were a woman? You were to shower at the gym but your shower was wet when checked a few days later. Your excuse this time was that one’s shower was private and not to be shared with others. But, then, what about dorms, military bases, YMCA’s, public baths, club houses? You countered that the gym showers were dirty. On the contrary, they were cleaned daily, unlike yours you never had cleaned, I pointed out. You then said you hated seeing naked men, their dongs swinging. But why should that bother you when you had one, too? Telling you how I had showered at a gym every day and enjoyed it enormously because I didn’t have to clean or maintain when I lived a whole year in an office as my family had moved to New York ahead of me, I repeated the decree to stop showering at home, only to be ignored.

The tensions mounting between us came to a head on June 19, 2017, my birthday as it happens, a couple of weeks after your parents’ return to California. No sooner had we all sat down to eat than I had to leave the table to service a business call in the study. When I returned about five minutes later, you were polishing off your royal diet in the metal bowl. Then I noticed the empty dish that had about 2 pounds of stir-fried beef with onion, mushroom, and Chinese cabbage, Auntie’s specialty, apparently all tossed into the gigantic bowl and dispatched. Auntie was back in the kitchen cleaning up and putting away. I said you could have saved some of the stir-fried out of common decency and you flew off the handle. Jumping up from the table, you swore you wouldn’t eat my food. We shouted at each other, calling names, and I was ordering you to get out instantly. Auntie intervened, pushed me upstairs, and, pointing out you didn’t have enough money to rent as you had just started working, told me to give you at least until the end of the summer session.

That was the deadline announced upon my smelling cigarette odor as you entered the house on the first day: either you had to quit smoking by the end of the summer session or had to find alternative housing, because I couldn’t abide smokers, period. You laughed and said you would try. I reiterated the seriousness of the deadline now and then but each time you waved it off as if it were a big joke. You were opening and closing your garage door several times at night, the grinding of the motor audible upstairs, so you could go out and smoke. You would have left it open all night, had I not objected lest rodents should stampede in from the surrounding woods. Instead I urged you to take the simple solution of quitting altogether. You laughed it off. Once I put on your hood a mug found outside the garage door with a cigarette butt stubbed out in dried coffee. No response. Next I resorted to a similar display of cigarette butts collected from the front yard. This time you reacted with denial: they were not even your brand, a lie because nobody came around to our gated community to litter like that. Later you told Auntie that you were smoking away from the house, as if that were a big concession.

Suppressing my chagrin, because I had not yelled so loud at another human being, I have waited until now when your summer classes ended. Look for a new place to move out to when you return from California. Search online. I told you about my year-long stay in an office for around $200, utilities included, where I could keep a refrigerator and cook, though I had to shower at a 24-hour fitness gym, a point of honor for which you see fit to defy me, but when push comes to shove I am sure you are flexible and resilient enough to adjust. Likewise with smoking. If necessary, when you find a good place to stay, except for the iron rule excluding smokers from the community, I am sure you’ll adjust and quit. Moreover, you may soon find all this talk about cheap rent irrelevant. I hear Frank has a business partner in Fort Lee who is going to hire you at a much better salary than at your present job.

Even living away from us, you will always be invited to our family gatherings, as you have been, but don’t think you are doing us a favor by coming and spreading your charm. They cost but we want to include you. Likewise your cousins go out of their way to help you, as Brenda did with your school work, though she is a full time executive. I am glad to see this affection among you but, bearing in mind that axiom, reciprocity, remember to do to those as you have been done to by them. Ingratitude is a vile thing and takers or users are beyond the pale.

Your Uncle

Blame for North Korean Nukes

For a perspective on which US President is most to blame for appeasement with North Korea bringing about its nuclear power status consider the following graffiti on the tombstone of President Daejung Kim (1998-2003) of South Korea:

시발 놈아 북핵 개발
네 놈이 책임 져라.
개 새끼 김 대중 대통령 묘소

Fucker, North Korea’s nuclear development
Is on your head.
Son of a bitch President Daejung Kim’s tomb.

The superscription completely buries the original 8-lettet inscription, “김 대중 대통령 묘소,” President Daejung Kim’s tomb

Amazingly many South Koreans are applauding this posthumous defacement, alleging that Kim, sometimes referred to as the Nelson Mandela of Asia, paid North Korea to arrange a summit meeting between its head and himself, for which he got the Nobel Peace Prize in 2000. The amount paid is variously estimated at half a billion to 4 billion dollars, equaling or exceeding what the US is said to have paid so far as bribes to that rogue regime.

So in the perception of these South Koreans their one president eclipses all his American counterparts put together in the blame game for enabling North Korea’s nuclear capability. It doesn’t seem to be nationalistic pride to be head of a pack, no matter what. Simply, they are focused only on Daejung and no outsiders, as if they haven’t heard of the controversy raging in the US. So he hogs the credit? But it would be such an anomaly because in other ways they are supersensitive to American goings on. The graffiti, perhaps a more effective means of destruction than excavation of the tombstone or exhumation, may well have been suggested by statue demolitions now in fashion here.

Immigrants as Storm Troopers for the American Cultural Revolution

Immigrants, foreign born but here to stay learning ESL (English as a Second Language) and putting down roots for their American dynasties, may be counted on as storm troopers for the Cultural Revolution unleashed by Donald’s campaign against political correctness regarding taboo words for sex and race (see Donald, Champion of Incorrectness, 9-11-2015, typakmusings.com).

With no gut-level sensitivity to these words, if at all, they have watched with disbelief the havoc a mere whisper of them can wreak on the destiny of this country, like when America went bonkers and fed Donald to the wolves for mentioning “pussy” with his male buddies. Few immigrants come across the word. Certainly not in their ESL primers. Nor in dealings with native speakers who suddenly become language conscious with foreign learners like an adult minding his manners with kids.

Then there are the blips “f…” or “f…ing,” which perplex them even more. What in the Sam Hill is that? The deprecatory, hesitant, ill-at-ease explanation makes matters worse. How can Americans be so irrational? No amount of blipping nor substitution with different nouns would alter what God has ordained between the sexes. A rose by any other name is still a rose.

They are equally astonished and put off by similar blipping, “N…,” “G…,” “C…,” “J…,” or use of euphemisms. A toilet will always be unpleasant unless properly maintained whether you call it lavatory, bathroom, restroom, or powder room. Likewise with other epithets reflecting cultural or religious prejudices.

That is why the narrator of Dear Daughter, Amazon.com, a Korean American professor turned pastor, names his church Gook Nigger Church to trivialize and implode the taboo words that cocoon entrenched racism in America. Similarly motivated is the launch of PCCNSC on Nov 8, 2016 (see Pussy-Cock Chink-Nigger Shouting Club, 11-9-2017, typakmusings.com) to eradicate latent racism and false modesty. The insensitivity of immigrants to the niceties of English may well provide the driving force for the Cultural Revolution and emancipate America from its hang-ups, politically correct chains and shackles.

President Trump’s Mental Competency

Grasping at straws after dead-ending with their Russian collusion delusion the destroy-Trump storm troopers are now talking about having Trump declared mentally incompetent by a court, perhaps thinking it’s easier than impeachment, daunting even in their own estimation with perhaps a snowball’s chance in hell.

When will they give up? When will the fake media stop encouraging the fishing expeditions of these fanatics, dividing the nation, tying up and wasting legislative and judicial resources which should be deployed elsewhere in the cause of making America great again?

They won’t quit. Incurably crippled by the Losing-It Syndrome that distorts their vision to see him as unfit, “un-presidential,” they’ll press on with their crusade to unseat him (see The Losing-It Syndrome, 8-18-2017, typakmusings.com).

So we’ll just have to meet them on their terms and tell them straight out that their motion for an incompetency hearing won’t get off the ground. Simply, they have doomed their own cause by alleging that he is unstable and erratic in his tweets, firing and hiring of personnel, executive orders about sexual orientation in the military, policy statements, rally speeches, everything he has done in office which unequivocally disqualifies him for the job. But by that very allegation, ipso facto, they have doomed their cause: these blemishes, all job related, make him immune to litigation or prosecution according to the 1997 Supreme Court ruling in Clinton vs. Jones.

So they’ll have to allege his incompetency with respect to his personal affairs but he has already insulated himself from all his property and business affairs. No court will entertain a motion for an incompetency hearing or any motion at all for no purpose, which is called frivolous, unless they suborn that court. But then they’ll hear no end of it from Donald’s lawyers, who’ll take them all the way to the Supreme Court.

Will they listen and quit? No, they’ll say the notoriety, the nuisance value, is worth it and will press on, come hell or high water. In the meantime the country goes down the tube, the ultimate loser.

An Apology to Paul Ryan from a Victim of CNN Fakery

My sincerest apologies to Speaker Paul Ryan for calling him literal-minded (see CNN Fakery, 8-25-2017, typakmusings.com) and misquoting him as having said that “The government cannot shut down” in refutation of President Trump’s emphasis on the importance of the southern US wall. Subsequently I happened to see a Fox News clip showing the press interview where he supposedly voiced this “opposition” to Donald, another sure sign of the Republican Party breaking apart, and realized that I had been screwed by CNN fakery I was warning others about.

The Fox video showed the CNN reporter asking Paul what he thought of Donald shutting down the government unless he had his way with the Trump Wall. Graciously Paul answered, humoring the reporter, that “the Government need not shut down.”

So it had been CNN all along that knowingly and deliberately twisted Donald’s figure of speech into a literal absurdity and baited Paul to say something that could be blown up into a mutiny in the Republican ranks, in the meantime poisoning the American public mind, and I had fallen for it. What choice did I have? I couldn’t be watching all the channels or survey the whole internet to check out everything. Beware, America, of CNN and other fake media. Just click YouTube and go to Fox.

CNN Fakery on the 8-22-2017 Trump Rally

Trashed by CNN, as if we needed any more proof of its fakery, is the Trump rally on Aug 22, 2017, an unremitting lovefest in which the 20,000+ crowd cheers and chants on and on fervently, deliriously:

“Trump ranted and rambled in Phoenix, as his crowd slowly thinned.”

The crowd never “thinned,” slowly or otherwise, even as his 77-minute speech ends, hating to leave, thirsting for more of the excitement, thrill and ecstasy only big mass events can deliver like rock concerts, Christian revivals, Bacchic revels.

Nor does he rant and ramble but stays on point throughout.

First and foremost, he shakes off the racist halo the fake media have been trying to force on him ever since the Aug 12 Charlottesville eruption. As President of the multiracial USA he can’t afford the least hint of racism, white bigotry in particular, because he is white. Correctly he points out how they decontextualize, twist, and deny outright to make him out to be other than what he really is according to the recipe (see Charlottesville and the Recipe for Fakery to Poison the Public Mind, 8-21-2017, typakmusings.com).

Amazingly Donald emerges from this exercise not only unfazed but, in fact, energized. Apparently one of the breed to which Gen George Patton allegedly belonged, fighting is in his genes: the more opposed, beaten up and mauled, the fresher and stronger he gets. In that sense, the fake media are doing him a favor, except we, ordinary Joe Blows, do not fare that well. For one thing, unlike domestic events we can readily verify through YouTube, blogs, and other internet sources, we have to depend on the so-called media for news from distant parts of the world. We can only hope that the internet will expand and mature quickly enough to wrest the monopoly from the media and give us reliable information, whose vital importance may be shown by the following example from Korean history.

Shortly before Japan’s invasion of Korea (1592-98) the Korean government sends representatives from the two opposing parties (equivalent to Reps and Dems) as emissaries to Japan to verify rumors of war preparations. Upon return Emissary Rep (for illustration’s sake) accurately reports imminent invasion and urges the king to prepare, but Emissary Dem contradicts him flat out and scorns the very idea of war for purely partisan reasons, though he has seen the same things as his colleague. Unfortunately, the king listens to the pacifist position, perhaps because he doesn’t have to do anything. In a matter of days the country is overrun from one end to another, Korean women raped left and right resulting in a hefty injection of the Japanese DNA into Korean (see The Polyglot, Amazon.com), and the king flees to China and begs for aid. We sincerely hope CNN and other fakers do not fake when it comes to ISIS, Russia, China, or Korea, though their recent Russian collusion delusion makes us wonder.

Back to the Phoenix rally – Donald goes into his agenda, jobs, military readiness, security, and the wall, a matter of particular interest to Arizona bordering Mexico 370 miles plus. To stress its urgency he says the government may as well shut down as fudge on the mandate, a figure of speech like over my dead body, clear to everybody except to our humorless, literal-minded Speaker of the House Paul Ryan who pompously puts it on the record: the government cannot shut down.

Donald has to move from one item to another in the to-do list but that’s no rambling. The audience is not there to have a 1,000-page project description read from cover to cover but to be reassured that their elected servant, their leader, if you will, is on the job, in the right frame of mind. Thank God there seems to be no doubt on that score, judging from the crowd’s repeated roars of approbation.

Charlottesville: Statues and The Losing-It Syndrome

Attention to Charlottesville seems to focus more on the melee that killed 3 and injured 10 times as many than on the root cause of it all, Robert E. Lee statue at Lee Park (renamed Emancipation Park), voted to be removed by the City Council of Charlottesville 6 months before on Feb 6, 2017, sparking numerous protests and counter-protests prior to their climax on Aug 12, a pattern replayed at many locations and likely to brew more trouble and strife nationwide.

Note that at all times counter-protesters outnumber protesters by a large margin, nearly 3 to 1 on that fateful day, Aug 12, in Charlottesville. They have to, because they propose to take down centuries old monuments generations have lived with, taking them for granted. Like all revolutionaries overturning the status quo, they have to be vocal and proactive, and they have been for months, years, decades, doing all kinds of publicity stunts to catch attention. But, for a change, on this day in Charlottesville, the revolutionaries don’t have to do a thing, neither shout Black Power nor wave the Black Nationalist Flag. The dumb protesters, their opponents, do it all for them by flaunting Nazi swastikas, KKK regalia and insignia and other toxins, abhorrent to the American psyche, dug out of their underground dumps.

Do we as Americans really have to take sides, obsessing over these statues one way or the other at such cost? The answer is a resounding no, the reasoning both ideological and practical.

The Robert E. Lee statue and others of that ilk, reminiscent of those ubiquitous in the olden days to deify their emperors and kings, have no place in our day and age, and may suggest immediate removal, lest they rekindle the Losing-It Syndrome (8-18-2017, typakmusings.com) and wreck our democracy, a government of, by, and for the people, as projected by the Declaration of Independence, embodied in the US Constitution, and reaffirmed by Lincoln (see Manifesto of Radical Democracy, 5-25-2014, typakmusings.com). The fact that Lee was not quite the head of the Confederacy is irrelevant, because the same logic of non-aggrandizement applies to all individuals in public service, military, political, or otherwise: what’s sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander.

However, our indignation against these symbols of abject servility in the bygone days may well be directed forward, rather than backward, prospective, rather than retroactive. We might as well forgive and let be these creations of our ancestors who knew no better. Such magnanimity probably underlies the Constitution’s prohibition of ex post facto legislation (Article 1, Section 9, Clause 3) and we may as well fall in line.

Moreover, their tolerance may have a real practical value: let them serve as reverse models, like channel markers for shipping to steer clear of, and help us uphold and preserve our emancipation from the Losing-It syndrome. For example, we won’t erect a statue of Donald J. Trump, the 45th President, however great a president he turns out to be. In fact, there won’t be any more presidential monuments built in Washington, DC, on Mount Rushmore, or anywhere else.

Charlottesville and the Recipe for Fakery to Poison the Public Mind

Coming as it did on Aug 12, 2017 the Charlottesville tragedy has been a bonanza to the fake media running out of steam as the Russian collusion delusion is bottoming out. In their feeding frenzy, however, they have let their guards down, revealing their recipe for fakery, juxtaposition and negation, that threatens to derail Donald’s mission to rebuild America.

I. Juxtaposition

They make David Duke, former KKK Grand Wizard, which makes him their national honcho or something, speak his piece right before Donald: white Americans have voted for Donald because he promised to take “their” country back, as if America had ever belonged to them alone. Hogtied to that rack is Donald so that anything he says is a confirmation and embellishment of that KKK theme. A trick well known to photographers, juxtaposition is a powerful tool. For example, by cleverly putting your photo at a murder scene, however unrelated to you in time or space, they can make you out to be a murderer or at least a suspect.

This is Donald’s initial response at 3 p.m., Aug 12, after a fatality:

“We condemn in the strongest possible terms this egregious display of hatred, bigotry, and violence on many sides, many sides. This has been going on for a long time in our country…”

The fake media jumps on it, trashing it as tepid, general whitewash. By reiterating “on many sides” and not pinning down KKK he is absolving and encouraging KKK, proof positive of his sympathy, they clamor. Just imagine Jesus so juxtaposed and saying: Love your neighbors on all sides. Branded a card carrying KKK, neo-Nazi, White Supremacist, all those hateful un-American things, he would be nailed to the cross on the spot.

Drowned out by the uproar is the truth of Donald’s observation, the multi-polarity of hatred which “has been going on for a long time in our country.” It’s just human and we have to acknowledge it and work on it, not sweep it under the rug, refusing outright to take at face value, as these self-appointed judges of character do, Donald’s pained commentary on human nature: existence of as much hate, actually much more intensified by envy, by the so-called coloreds against whites, or among the coloreds themselves, as shown in the LA Riots of 1992 in which blacks killed dozens and bankrupted hundreds of Koreans. But because the whites are dominant and powerful, it is politically incorrect and un-American to acknowledge any but white bigotry, not realizing that this makes them consummate hypocrites or ignoramuses, who ultimately avoid the real work, reaching out across race boundaries “on many sides,” as Donald urges.

Predictably, opportunistic politicians jump on the bandwagon. Hatch, Rubio, Gardner, all Republican senators, scramble to steal the thunder from the Democrats, coming out with strong statements urging Donald to specifically call out the white supremacist groups who started the whole thing by protesting the takedown of the Robert E. Lee statue, an issue to be dealt with in the next post. 

II. Denial, Instant and Flat Out

Two days later, on Aug 14, Donald essentially reiterates his initial response, filling in the details, naming the hate groups among the alt right protesters (alt, or alternative, meaning “ultra” or “far out”) but also taking to task the alt left counter-protesters for resorting to violence by coming to the scene combat ready with shields, clubs, sticks, stones to dole out as well as take violence.

Repeatedly Donald focuses on the element of violence, which he should as protector of public safety, the law being clear about this: “Sticks and stones may break my bones (but words will never hurt me).” Let’s face it. As President, intent on his agenda to make America great again, so he can go down in history as the greatest, he would be out of his mind to side with KKK even if they have voted for him, as Duke claims, at the risk of alienating millions more who have voted for him, white, black, Asian. Besides, once President, his position secured, he doesn’t have to pander to any particular side because his score card now depends on working for all Americans, even those who have not voted for him regardless of their color or creed.

How do the media report to complete their recipe for fakery? Dismiss him for speaking too late or copycatting to be in fashion, then parade, after showing snippets of his speech, decontextualized, a column or panel of prim know-all media hacks, who put on their spin to make sure that he has said the exact opposite, causing all the unrest and violence in the country by inciting hatred and violence. They bet on none of their viewers hearing him from beginning to end, uncut and unpasted, un-juxtaposed, un-decontextualized, because they are the media, the purveyor, and the public gets to see only what they choose to show. Well, there is YouTube livestreaming, darn, but they bet on few Americans watching or those who have not comprehending. So brainwashed are they that they can’t see or hear anything presented raw, unless media cooked and dressed.

III. Spread of the Poison

Alas, the hacks bet right. They are the sashimi chefs and the American public the connoisseur who just eats, swooning, what’s placed in front of them on a well-garnished plate, never mind where the Oh-toro comes from. Americans hang on every word these so-called experts or pundits utter publicly on TV with such well-practiced glibness and aplomb, strictly according to the recipe of fakery. Hmmm, Donald Trump, that racist villain….

Yes, Donald, you have work cut out for you pushing upstream with your agenda but never mind. You will do it, because more of us are wising up to the media tricks, getting a glimpse of the underbelly of Maguro, the Bluefin tuna, before the chef artfully puts his spin on it.

The “Losing-It” Syndrome: Not on Donald’s Watch

It has become fashionable among many who consider themselves competent judges of manners and morals to scorn Donald for not being “presidential,” that is, “royal,” “imperial,” even “divine.” But don’t these images hark back to the days when cowering, quaking subjects bowed and scraped to an enthroned monarch, an abomination dumped by the Declaration of Independence (1776) that articulates the vision of Locke and other Enlightenment thinkers and inspires the US Constitution to provide a government of, by, and for the people, as reaffirmed by Lincoln? These savants of good taste, deluded by antiquity, can’t see Donald, a plain-spoken citizen, even coarse, picked by his masters, the people, as Champion Defender of Enlightenment.

Unfortunately, the delusion is not limited to America. A few years back, while I was still in Honolulu, I took L, a high school alum of mine (Class of 1956) visiting from Korea, to the Syngman Rhee Church where they have a life-size statue of the first President of South Korea (1948-60). Promptly bowing before it he fell into a profound trance of worship that lasted a full minute, as I beheld the spectacle in utter amazement and disgust. Owner of a major concrete company with a fleet of 200 ready-mix trucks in Seoul he would have, I thought, better sense than deify Rhee, to oust whom some 500 protesters had to die in 1960. As we resumed our tour of the island I couldn’t help expounding Radical Democracy that calls for emancipation from the slave mentality of ruler worship, a.k.a. the “Losing-It” Syndrome (see Manifesto of Radical Democracy, 5-25-2014, typakmusings.com). I must have been persuasive, because he said he wished he had lived in America, emancipated.
 
“Old habits die hard and shackle the masses with the Syndrome everywhere,” I had to disabuse him, quoting from the Manifesto. “During the 1980 visit to Hawaii of Doohwan Jun, President of South Korea (1980-88), later a convicted felon for stealing billions while in office, so overcome was a Korean American woman with emotion upon shaking hands with him in a receiving line that she lost it and pissed right in front of him.”

God rest his soul, for L is now with his maker, a victim of leukemia so prevalent among my classmates because of exposure to plastic cinder at our temporary post-war campus. Had he been alive, he would have found more telling proof of my point in the current spate of strident Donald mockers, cutting across racial boundaries, white, black, Asian. Apparently a winning strategy for the species the Syndrome commands: magnify the king to a god and reduce his subjects to robots, programed to go to war and die in defense of him and his kingdom. We see something similar at work in a colony of ants or bees. Reversed is the polarity in the Enlightenment ideology of social contract: the people are masters and the ruler their servant. However, because the great number of the former, hundreds of millions, complicates the logistics and leaves room for the servant to finagle and usurp, exploiting the “Losing-It” Syndrome, the surest wrecker of Enlightenment, its eradication is a global top priority.

America is therefore lucky to have Donald in the White House, for he will remain anathema incarnate to the Syndrome on account of the very character flaws decried by his scoffers: pugnacity, quick temper, no sense of gravitas, intemperate, politically incorrect speech, calling a spade a spade, often too much, seemingly putting his foot in his mouth (see Lighten up, America, and Follow The Donald, George Washington of New America! 9-27-2015).

Donald, never mind those shaking their heads in contempt, solemnly intoning, “Silence is golden.” Silence is trash, contributing zilch to our knowledge. Have no truck with the myth about a wise recluse or a man of few words. We should all talk freely, continually, excessively to touch each other’s souls and transform us into enlightened, civilized human beings.

At your service, seemingly custom made, is the tweet. A minute or two of pounding on the keyboard and, voila, a terse beauty in 25 words or less, about the attention span for 90% of Americans, revealing your spontaneous, transparent, even vulnerable self. Click and off it goes instantly, before tackle and distortion by the fake media, to tens, hundreds of millions of your masters. Of course you haven’t had time to blow it by anyone, including your staff and cabinet who will be chagrined in the morning to have slept through it, but that’s okay. Hearing a few hours after their real masters, they can adjust and fall into step. You are the boss and your brain storms should reach us first. In particular, when harassed by the fake media goons about her ignorance as her boss’s mouthpiece, the litany of the White House in chaos, Sarah can straighten them out: her job is to read out well-rehearsed official statements, her hours 9 to 5, not 3 a.m. So tweet on and speed up the demise of the media in the Information Age where every laptop owner is a media mogul and consolidate America’s emancipation from the Losing-It Syndrome.

But beware of resistance even from your closest associates. I have urged you to insist on being addressed as Donald after election (Donald, Champion of Political Incorrectness, Mandate the First Name Basis Across the Board by Executive Order One!  9-11-2015) but I doubt that John Kelly, used to being “sirred” and saluted all his life, would let any of his White House staffers or visitors like me, if allowed in at all, call you Donald. Yes, eradication of the Syndrome has a ways to go.