01 August, 2016

New Goals

One of which is getting back on  the horse and behind the blog. My last Twitter hiatus, while less permanent than I'd intended, did me a world of good and I'm taking another break. One of the conditions of me going back is that I actually use this blog to do what I'd intended it for: to practice and sharpen whatever God given talent I may posses for the printed word. If nothing else, I'd like to someday use that talent to write homilies, but that's putting the cart waaaay before the horse. In the meanwhile, I'll be coming back here, even if only for a few minutes every couple of days, because nobody improves without substantial practice.

Or a Montage. Have to get the missus to work on one of those for me.

01 March, 2016

Stupor Tuesday

Hardly an imaginative title, but it fits my mood. The AOSHQ Decision Desk is doing its usual bang-up job (no fooling, these guys provide outstanding coverage, much better than the alphabet networks) and showing Trump off to an early lead.

Anyone who followed my now defunkt Twitter feed knows that, while I'm not strictly a Trump partisan, I completely understand his appeal and tend to agree with Vox Day that he's one of our last, best hopes to avoid the rise of the ultras or the complete dissolution of the nation. Where I differ with Vox is that I also think Cruz has a shot at doing the same, but I like the idea that Trump will destroy the modern Republican party (which desperately needs it) while Cruz would allow it to limp along for at least one more presidential term. That particular patient needs to be put out of our misery. So, go Trump.

As to the Democrats, well, we've got an uglier reincarnation of Jezebel running against a Red Diaper Doper Baby Socialist, so if they win it'll be another four years of Obama only less lazy. Just as Trump will, at best, buy us time before the eventual collapse, the election of one of those clowns will only speed it up. I hate to admit it, but there is a perverse attractiveness to that thought, though it will mean more bloodshed and not less. Still, I'll pass. I may think civil war and dissolution of some sort are inevitable, but it doesn't mean I'm in any particular hurry to get there.

28 February, 2016

Going Native

Vox day is going through an interesting blog argument with Sarah Hoyt over whether or not immigrants can truly become Americans. She holds the modern view that anyone who comes here and swears allegiance, adopts the culture, and lives as such become American. Vox disagrees. 

It's telling, is it not, how all of these foreigners and immigrants just happened to produce a new definition of American that included them, a definition that was not held by the Founding Fathers. Nor is it a coincidence that this self-serving definition was subsequently used to justify the largest invasion to have ever taken place in human history, an invasion that has severely weakened the once-mighty American nation.
My fellow Native American, John Red Eagle, and I addressed this very point in our book Cuckservative:
America is not a propositional nation, it is a distinct nation of people with their own customs, traditions, DNA, and culture, and it is a nation that has the right to defend its own existence. 

 Read the whole thing, and as always don't stop at the comments because that's where half the good arguments are. And while you're at it, go back and read Sarah's take on the issue, a take I have a lot of sympathy for due to my own background. 

And unfortunately, I think she's wrong and Vox is right, albeit for a narrow and exact definition for American (ALWAYS make sure of your terms when arguing with Vox, for Vox wears many personas but is always precise. And he is very, very smart and consistent when it comes to arguing those terms). 

Vox is arguing nationality in a narrow range because that's the range (to whit: those born to the custom from at least one generation so fully accultured that they have lost not only any cultural identity as foreigners, but have also genetically as well as memetically interbred with the host nation)  that a) concerns him in this particular time and sense of the word and b) it's the range that becomes relevant when bullets start flying. Vox, like myself, believes that item b is going to be become very relevant sooner rather than later, so this is the direction he's going. The only reason this is even remotely controversial is because, as he pointed out with Mr. Red Eagle in Cuckservative, this traditional concept of nationality has been deliberately cast aside in favor of the (in)famous "melting pot" theory, one of who's modern incarnations is what Mrs. Hoyt is arguing. 

So: to be an American, one must be born to it. Immigrants, while they may be loyal to the Stars and Stripes and even be more "American" than some (or even most) Americans, simply cannot be sufficiently assimilated because they carry the preconceptions, beliefs, and culture of their own nations no matter how deeply subsumed. 

An ancient would look at the above paragraph and say "Duh." A Gaul was not a Roman, no matter that he shaved and put on a toga. A Greek was not an Illyrian, for all that he wore trousers and rode a horse. Hell, even a Macedonian was not a Greek, though he ruled in their name and spoke the koine that his army forged! Nation implies blood in no small way, as it is an outgrowth of the tribe, the clan, and the family. 

Does this mean that immigrants can never assimilate? Of course not, that's not what's being argued. My mother is an immigrant, and so thoroughly assimilated that you'd have to know her fairly well to determine that she is not, in fact, an American. Her story and Sarah's are very similar, though she came here much younger, and she would make a similar argument: she is American and Colombian both. She would be equally wrong. My mother is a Colombian citizen of the US, still carrying Colombia in her DNA and deepest assumptions. It is this distinction that has gotten lost in the melting pot mess.

Once upon a time, that meant something and was a good signifier of a foreigner who had gone native enough to trust as a paid up member of society. Their children could be Americans, but they could not (that the founders excluded the foreign born from holding the office of the Presidency was NOT an accident. If you need more proof that the melting pot theory is wrong, that's a good place to start). However, they were a part of the culture, part of the landscape, and for the most part inherently trusted almost as much as any native born American.

Until, that is, the bullets started flying. Witness the behavior and treatment of Germans in WWI and WWII, and especially that of Japanese in WWII. Japanese, being more insular and with obvious physical differences, were easier than Germans to spot even when intermarried for a generation and were treated as not quite trustworthy to the point that they were physically segregated from the rest of the country. That their nisei, sansei, and yonsei sons and brothers fought so well reflects great credit upon them and speaks to the fact that the government was wrong, that these native born had in fact assimilated sufficiently to be called American. But I digress. The distrust of the issei (Japanese born immigrants) and even some nisei (first generation) was completely merited, as the events on the Hawaiian island of Ni'ihau showed (look it up, it's both depressing and inspiring and shows why one should really think twice before taking on a pureblood Hawaiian one-on-one). Simply put, blood will out, especially when that blood is undiluted and kept apart.

Conflict focuses mind and culture, forces us to take sides. Racial and civil conflict are by far the most focusing and leave the least room for widened definitions. When blood is called into question, the old definitions will rear their heads and American will revert to its original connotation: native born. When that happens, it will be a very rude shock to those who have bought into the propositional nation myth, and the clearer they choose to see things now the better they will be able to adapt. I don't know what future conflicts will look like, but I do know that the signs are pointing to a rather nasty realignment in which the concept of nationality and nationhood will very likely revert to their time honored meanings.

And that's the best outcome. The worst involves that same realignment, only without the concept of an American nation, which would in turn lead to a Hobbesian war of all against all. Given the choice, I much prefer a few hurt feelings now. 

27 February, 2016


So I'm off Twitter.

There are at least half a dozen good reasons for this, not least of which are the incessant shadowbans, the aggressive stupidity, the aggravation of arguing with total strangers, you get the idea. I took a break from it last year, but never actually deleted the account.

This time, I did.

I won't be missed, I know, as I never really cared enough to try an build a follower base and it showed. Funny thing is, with this insane election season I was actually starting to pick up a little steam with all the rants and political crap I was engaging in. Still, the added distraction and elevated blood pressure simply isn't worth it, and like Facebook, the tiny amount of good was too easily drowned by the massive amounts of dreck. I debated going out in a blaze of glory and getting myself banned a la Stacy McCain, but I'm such small fry that it would be a prohibitive amount of work and frankly nothing I really wanted to throw myself into (I just don't care enough about those people to do the work of properly pissing them off. This is part of why I'm generally bad at social media).

Anyhow, if by some random chance someone word-searches my handle and lands here, yeah, it's the same Militant Bibliophile. I haven't gotten tired of making wry comments and talking about stuff, so I'll probably amp up my usage of this place for just that reason. The goal is a posting frequency higher than once every seven months.

03 July, 2015

My God, My God...

Why have you blessed me so?

So I went dark for a while. Admittedly, when the number of my posts is fewer than the number of my years (and Dr. Durant would still call me a "youth"), it's not entirely accurate to call what I did "going dark." Regardless, I haven't posted anything since about November, and now I'm going to try to post some more. As to why I did so, well, I might tell you.


It's a dark and very weird tale that at times I'm not even sure I believe myself. Except that I do. With all my heart. I don't know the why or the specific mechanism, but I do know it's not important and that I will know all that I need to know in the fullness of time. Cryptic enough for you yet?

The net effect so far of this continuing weirdness is that I've been drawn closer to God and that my little girl is healthier now than I've ever seen her. As such, I see no compelling reason to stop, though I miss some of the things and people I've effectively cut myself off from. But then, I'm pretty sure Lot missed his wife after he left Sodom, so I'm in good company.

So a brief update: I'm still following #GamerGate, and much closer than I had been (this thing is still a Hobbit fight, but now it's the Battle of Bywater, not some dinner party squabble), I'm in for the Tor boycott, still reading Vox Day and getting an education, and thinking about things a lot harder than I had been. Oh, and I started shooting a muzzleloader and casting my own bullets (I refuse to call them boolits), which is a lot of fun!

I'm also more happily married than I've been in years. Truly, the Lord has blessed me in ways I never looked for, but the mundane side effects have been pretty damn excellent. It's been a wild ride, and I have a suspicion that the reason for it is that the ride is going to get even wilder.

Dark times are coming, evident to anyone who has eyes to see. Buckle up, brothers, we are not forsaken.

11 November, 2014

Veterans' Day

This day is call’d the feast of Crispian.
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam’d,
And rouse him at the name of Crispian.
He that shall live this day, and see old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
And say “To-morrow is Saint Crispian.”
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars,
And say “These wounds I had on Crispian’s day.”
Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot,
But he’ll remember, with advantages,
What feats he did that day. Then shall our names,
Familiar in his mouth as household words-
Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter,
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester-
Be in their flowing cups freshly rememb’red.
This story shall the good man teach his son;
And Crispin Crispian shall ne’er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remembered-
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne’er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition;
And gentlemen in England now-a-bed
Shall think themselves accurs’d they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin’s day.

-Henry V, Act IV, Scene III
Henry V is one of the first Shakespeare plays I ever saw (the Branagh version, of course). I was way too young to understand it, though I liked the fight scenes.  Then I saw Danny DeVito in Renaissance Man, a wildly implausible but thoroughly enjoyable movie, and prompted me to watch it again. It was moving, but as I was only a teenager, I still didn't really get it.

When I came home after that first surreal deployment, I watched it again. And this time, I got it.

Eleven years later, I still do.

To my Brothers who have served and to those with whom I still serve: it is not for any great cause that men fight. While we may join for love of country, or some more airy or earthy cause, we stay and risk all for the same reason: the man to our left, and the man to our right. It is for you, Brothers, that I stay in the line of battle, so that together we may ward our homes from that horror which has dogged the steps of Man from the beginning, and that only those who have glimpsed it truly know. I will not break faith with you, though Hell itself stand arrayed against us.

An old soldier does not die, though his arm may whither and his hair whiten. Within him remains that young man who stood up to fear and terror, so that others may live and need not know it.

And with him will always stand his Brothers.

Semper Fi

10 November, 2014

"Resolved, That two Battalions of marines be raised..."

On November 10, 1775, a Corps of Marines was created by a resolution of the Continental Congress.  Since that date many thousands of men have borne that name Marine.  In memory of them it is fitting that we who are Marines should commemorate the Birthday of our Corps by calling to mind the glories of its long and illustrious history.
The record of our Corps is one which bear comparison with that of the most famous military organizations in the world's history.  During 90 of the 146 years of its existence the Marine Corps has been in action against the Nation's foes.  From the Battle of Trenton to the Argonne, Marines have won foremost honors in war and in the long eras of tranquility at home, generation after generation of Marines have grown gray in war in both hemispheres, and in every corner of the seven seas so that our country and its citizens might enjoy peace and security.
In every battle and skirmish since the Birth of the Corps, Marines have acquitted themselves with the greatest distinction, winning new honors on each occasion until the term "Marine" has come to signify all that is highest in military efficiency and soldierly virtue.
This high name of distinction and soldierly repute we who are Marines today have received from those who preceded us in the Corps.  With it we also received from them the eternal spirit which has animated our Corps from generation and has long been the distinguishing mark of Marines in every age.  So long as that spirit continues to flourish Marines will be found equal to every emergency in the future as they have been in the past, and the men of our nation will regard us as worthy successors to the long line of illustrious men who have served as "Soldiers of the Sea" since the founding of the Corps.
 -Major General John A. Lejeune, 13th Commandant of the Marine Corps

Happy 239th Birthday, Marines!
For those deployed, confusion to the enemy.
For those at home, train harder for your time is coming.
For those who have gone before, we will never forget you and save a spot at the bar!
For those we defend, we remain Ever Faithful and we shall not fail you though it cost our lives.

Semper Fidelis!