Does Nate Maingard Love The ANC?

"Even as a civilization we are simpleminded."-- Jonathan Weiner, digital location 3450

The post-Mandela ANC may appear to be more humane than the European legacy which evolved into Botha's apartheid, but what is kept quiet, in a "sssh, keep it under your hat mode, is that ethnic black Africans cannot govern Africa according to the principles of inherent natural human rights developed during the Enlightenment. Why? Because black African societies evolved their mores in accordance with totem identification, survival strategies against exotic parasites and malaria, and not all the might of Europe and China and Russia combined is ever going to change a damn thing about that.

Does this mean I side with Arikaners who created the Orange Free State over sweetheart hotties like Nate, who may be wondering why I'm singling him out when he's given the dowager a great deal of latitude?

Ah. Well, things aren't quite that simple. European aggression lucked out in the New World. Natives had a mass die off, and the Aztecs, who were in the best position to fight back against superior European hardware, miscalculated, and as a result, North America eventually took over global hegemony. But Caucasian emigration failed to successfully transplant itself within mainland China and central Africa, and guilt over the Holocaust has gone so far in the other direction that Muslims created a new Fascism.

Granted, Kerry and his counterparts have simmered things down, but what led to the incarnation of ISIL isn't going to fade away simply because Putin is still trying to fend off Anglican satire of Russian backwardness, pretending Slavs are as European as the continent, which Slavic ethnicity isn't.

Radical egalitarianism is a brutal fiction, and the sooner we face up to it, the better. Leave west and central Africans alone, and you know what? I bet they resolve their societies in their own way, and would have done so faster, with more efficiency, than Carter's medical intervention over the guinea worm. What does this have to do with the price of beans, or power sex with Ray Liotta? You know in your heart that behind his comment to TV guide about kissing his informant extra, we avert our eyes from those pictures, don't want to contemplate the grotesque escapades of Hollywood's underside, and even if we did, buying porno invariably uncovers child sex harems. Capisce?

Doyle, as a contemporary of the Boer War on the side of the Victorian Empire closing ranks on what it had left, still peaks a mild interest over that of his autonomic character who "changed the world". (And in a whisper: I have more followers than Weiner, and he's a professor!) So there!

Pepper Spray

I had forgotten about the US House of Representatives on my twitter feed. They are still following me, which, oddly, doesn't trouble me. They legislate federal public housing, and I was a year into section 202 housing travail when I showed up, like a wayward spark, on the Senate Committee for Social Security. At the time I received a few expressions which suggested that I was a fool suffered gladly, primarily from a bald Hawkings-like figure who was a doctor of public policy, diseased power chair user whose only commonality with myself was our medical equipment. I forget what I asserted to earn such implied censure, but I understood him. Matriculated intellect challenged, disrupted, by a petite spastic savant, forgetting why Richard Baron sent me there at all, other than it was part of my job to cajole people like myself away from entitlement dependency. We had two meetings about a bill, the first meeting hastily scheduled because I was already on Amtrak and could not be called back, so I committed the sin of inefficiency under the Clinton's watch too! I should put this back on my resume.

No one in the Executive Branch knew I breathed, and Toomey was still a private citizen then, but I learned that politicians are figureheads, and power is vested in the aides. If we recognized this I think we'd have fewer problems, because politics boils down to appropriations, and appropriations would find it prohibitive to customize architecture and programs toward optimal outcomes.

But I am going to say something: I did not move into a section 811 building like Diamond Park simply due to an English professor whose mouth, like mine, was his weapon. I moved into Diamond Park because my private living arrangements with Marie were horrific, not due to any fault of my aunt. My family never invested in best accessibility practices. I suffered for it, and Diamond Park eased that, absent medical technology, but my bid to live independently was a failure because the violence I was party to was endemic. 

My transfer to Riverside was also a failure, and I consider it inhumane to forcibly lump the disabled and low income seniors together. My first years here were hell, Babette Josephs notwithstanding, I was terrorized by the seniors, literally, then gradually by management, years before Trudy Richardson took over. I've individualized her and Debra Horne, but that too is irrelevant when the landlord's goal is marginalization for the sake of the regime.

One solution is to reconsider segregation: I would have been happier in a smaller community of peers with CP and MS who had the ability to remain autonomous outside of monstrosities like Inglis House, but to mediate such infrastructure issues costs a significant domestic investment. It is all about money, just as Sturgess realizes, to his character's dismay, in 21. For all the government mandates that integrated me, the government still failed, abominably, because it cannot regulate the reality of my vulnerability: I'm expendable.