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May 2022

The Beef Enchilada


This morning, I created dinner — beef enchiladas. As is customary whenever I am in the kitchen, working with a knife, with classical music playing in the background — I recall various times of my life.


I ponder those events, and I find some level of resolution to situations that I might, or might not have, understood during the fast and furious moments of their transpiring.


With all of the Expert Hysteria that has gone on within the past few years over science, medicine, health, and other related subjects (such as personal hygiene), the humans of my nation, and elsewhere, have had to put up with the bloviating egotism of The Experts.


We, the Sane, the Intelligent, the Normal, and the Happy, pretty much agree that The Experts are idiots where living a common sense, free life is concerned. They are well paid for their advice that furthers the Power Grab Agenda by any of a number of illegitimate international bodies whom We The People have not elected.

Getting rid of these blob-parasites is not going to be easy. But the work has already begun. In fact, it began many years ago, and I’d like to think that I was among the vanguard of individuals who led the way.


During my tenure as a technical writer for engineers and geologists in the federal government, I experienced the misfortune of having my supervisor swapped out on me. The higher-ups were playing musical chairs with administrative white-collars so that those higher-ups would garner more bennies — monetary rewards — for their high-and-mighty promotions of people who had no business over-seeing the work of others.


This pulling the manager-rug out from under my salaried feet did not sit well with me. In truth, I didn’t stand for it very long. Other employees suffered in silence. I didn’t question the suffering part of their struggles to deal with an incompetent Boss. I did question their silence.


Their silence prompted me, triggered one might say, to be much less silent. Incompetence, and haughty ineptitude at that, in my overseer is the one situation that I cannot abide. I’ve tried, and I’ve tried, and I’ve tried, but permitting a person of low intelligence, and offensive character, to lord over me feels very much an insult to my dignity, my sense of decency, my very existence.

Yes, such a person poses an existential threat to me.


Needless to say, or write, the current crop of chaotic morons “in charge” of the US Ships of State (federal and state levels) has immensely motivated me to pursue living my life through avenues that do not include the daily news-propaganda feed, no matter whence it comes.


My minimally stifled pique back then was based upon working for a lazy manager who wanted the money for his lofty position, but not the work, or duties, as assigned. I consequently did not mince words in his presence, or out of it. I now understand that not everyone is like me. Rare are the individuals, women in particular, who can verbally castrate a man and enjoy it.


I subjected myself to the one and only performance appraisal that this pompous bigot finally got around to finishing for me, only one month late (my co-workers lost mucho dinero for appraisals that were months, up to a year, late). Of course, I was marked down in certain areas that required compromising my skills and talents to The Group.

Normally, I’d theretofore worked with, and for, The Group in an innovative manner, “making things go.” With This Group, however, there were one too many laggards and tokens, for me to tolerate offering my participation. It was The Group that made me go!


The Group was the special fiefdom of University-Bred Fledgling-Experts that was in the process of being built by this stupid specialist in prejudice against non-Science Majors who did not emanate from the head of Zeus, A Prestige University.


When he pointed to the area, the line, where I had to sign my name to accept his petty condemnation of my superiority as rank inferiority, I took keen note of the college degree associated with my fine and distinguished major.


“I earned a BA, not a BS. It’s a Bachelor of Arts, not of Science.”


He stared at me, perplexed as to why I would not want to lie about my college degree. He actually thought that he was doing me a favor! I was even more insulted.


“Why don’t you just put down you think I’m stupid?”


I signed that performance appraisal to acknowledge that this personnel action had been undertaken by this supervisory engineer, but I was in complete disagreement with just about every word on it. I was deemed Marginally Successful.

Four months later, I was outta there. I did not permit this timidly arrogant man to attend my Farewell Luncheon. We, about twenty of us, all had a wonderful time.


The worst-case scenario for The Experts, with an extraordinarily high level of confidence for We the Geniuses, is that no one takes these Panic-Porn Hustlers seriously.  These Globalist Corporate Whores have had their day, or night. Their plundering of our liberties is being avenged, in ways they cannot calculate or count, much less conceptualize.


Laugh away their ginormously expensive, patsy procured Advice, their daft Computer Models, their Dingbat Germ-Teams, their goofy Disaster-Forecasts.


They are scientists, doctors, experts, and legends — only in their own minds.