Kinism

Kinism

This is an apalling pseudo-Christian subgroup that I became aware of through links on Respectful Insolence.  Today, Orac linked to a couple of diatribes on Little Geneva.  I’m not going to give them the teeniest bit of bandwidth by linking.  They believe that whites should breed only with whites, and only with whites chosen by their daddies, and that anyone who doesn’t believe in their narrow-minded, hateful, exclusionary form of Christianity isn’t a Christian.  They believe Mel Gibson is a wuss for apologizing for his antisemitic and sexist remarks, and he should stick with his utterly justified point of view.  In fact, not only are they Holocaust Revisionists (oh, wait – they prefer “Holocaust Factualists”) but they feel we should be celebrating the many occasions where huge numbers of Jewish people were killed or evicted as holidays, no matter where in the world they occurred.  They have noticed that Latinas are having children without benefit of marriage at a higher rate than black girls, conclude that it’s because they’re not having as many abortions – and propose that that’s a situation that must be remedied to bring the population down. 

Well, needless to say, after reading this, I was deprived of that much-desired nap I wrote about earlier this morning.  I wondered for a bit whether it bothered the blog author that the underwear that touches his lily-white genitalia was milled, woven, cut, sewn, folded, and put into a package by so many nonwhite hands?  Does he have any fears that it might somehow damage his genetically superior sperm?  I’m thinking, actually, that these people (for lack of a better word) are pretty selective in their segregationism.  If they were really serious, they’d start their own little colony – or, perhaps “reservation”.  I’d be behind it 100% with a few provisions.  For example, they’d have to go all or nothing.  The aforementioned underwear would have to be made from scratch – from cotton they grew, milled, wove, cut, and sewed themselves.  By the same token, I think it would be fine if they had guns, but only if they adhered to the same production standards as the underwear.  Dig up the iron, smelt it, refine it, engineer the weapon, make the gunpowder, etc.  That’ll at least keep them busy, because they’ll have a lot of time on their hands when they have to make their own computers and internet and can’t blog in the meantime.  Plus, they could help us all out by not allowing their own people to interbreed.  We certainly won’t benefit from mixing them up with the general gene pool, so it all works out great for everyone.

I don’t think, though, that they see the irony in being a segregationist group that recruits.  Of course, they also don’t see the irony in saying the Bible is infallible in one sentence, then using one Bible verse to disprove another in the next.  Or the irony of telling one another “that’s very thought-provoking” in response to a comment that essentially says exactly the same thing that the blog author just did.  “I think fathers should pick their daughters’ husbands!”  “Yes, in fact, I think that daughters should marry the men their fathers pick”  “Wow, Bob, that’s a very thought-provoking comment!”  Yes, it makes them think of the exact thing they were thinking of before.  And they’re homeschooling their kids.

Grrr.

Grrr.

My allergies are awful this morning (because it’s beautiful outside, and the flora are celebrating).  I remembered that I was supposed to take out recycling last night by coming home and seeing the recycling truck pass by our house.  We watched “The Man in the Iron Mask” last night, which not only stunned me that Leonardo DiCaprio gets paid to act, but also gave me horrible dreams with John Malkovich all night.  I kept to my points all week, and the Weight Watchers scale said I lost only .6 pounds.  So I’m starting the day all pissy.

After music lessons, we’re heading to the mall to exchange some stuff the kids picked out in the wrong sizes.  Then we’re going to see if we can get the 2nd phone free deal when we sign Carolyn up for her cell phone.  Then the Farmer’s Market and the Library.  So I really have no time to feel sorry for myself.  Maybe that’ll snap me out of it, maybe it’ll just make me more pissy because I didn’t have time to feel sorry for myself.  Heh. 

Whatever.  It’s a nice day, I might get out and haul some wood chips around.  Return some phone calls.  Vacuum.  Maybe fit in a nap somewhere in there.

NJ Drivers. . .Driving Us Mad

NJ Drivers. . .Driving Us Mad

So hubby got hit by a driver making a left without checking to see if there was anyone in his path.  The car will be in the shop for who knows how long, so I took him out to pick up a rental this morning.  Traffic on the Parkway was slow, but apparently some guy in a Cadillac didn’t know that, and plowed into the car in front of him, which hit the car in front of >him<, which hit hubby’s rental car.

Then drove away.

One of the other drivers thinks he got the guy’s plates, though.  Idiot.