Don’t Be What People Say You Are; Be Yourself
Someone called me a fascist. Now, I honestly didn’t know what a fascist was. I mean, I knew Hitler was one, so it must be bad, but if you asked me on a witness stand I couldn’t tell you if it were a religion or a political party. So, I looked it up. And I found these ten things you must believe to belong to the fascist consortium. And I found a definition.
- 1) A person who believes in or sympathizes with fascism.
- (often initial capital letter)2) A member of a fascist movement or party.
- 3) A person who is dictatorial or has extreme right-wing views.And I found a checklist of rules and regulations that you must conform to in order to be a proper, card-carrying fascist. So, accordingly I began to go down the checklist, ticking them off one by one and, son of a bitch! I’m a fascist. Didn’t know that.It’s always heart warming when you belong. Unless you happen to lose a World War. That’s a bitch! But the camaraderie, the fellowship. Just gives one a warm fuzzy, you know. And the Hitler thing? Hey! Everybody makes mistakes. I mean, he made a few but he did have a dog.Now ya’ll know I’m being facetious, right? Look at the title. Don’t let anyone rent space in your head. Never identify! You’ll get sucked into a belief set and have to conform. But is that you? The Woke movement is a prime example. On its surface being “awakened” (That’s the proper word) is not necessarily a bad thing. To be awakened to dogmatic mistakes so as to not make them again is a good thing, but to belong to a rigid group that stigmatizes people for their personal ideas while conforming to beliefs that far outweighs any religious cult you’ve ever known is, well, fascist!I generally agree with any and all accusations. Years ago someone accused me of having an affair with some girl. Now, for the record I don’t have affairs! I have ex-wives. But I asked this person if the girl was pretty, to which he answered to the affirmative. So, I told him, yes. I’d had an extensive affair with said lady. After he left, someone else asked me about it and I told him that I’d never met the lady, didn’t have any idea who she was. He asked me why I’d owned up to something that never happened? I reminded him of my qualifying question. Was she pretty? If she was then yes! We were lovers. If she was ugly then I never met the bitch.And why do I think that way? Because my accuser would never have asked that question had he not gotten it from somewhere and he wasn’t looking for truth, he was looking for confirmation of something that he already believed. She was pretty? I may as well have him think we got it on. In fifty or a hundred years it becomes the “truth,” and just add her to my harem.Let me ask you this: If you subscribe to a political party, do you really believe everything they teach. Same with religion. Do you totally accept everything they preach? Republican or Democrat, Methodist or Mormon, do you buy the whole bill of goods? If you do you gave up your membership to the human race. You don’t need that frontal lobe in your brain, the brain stem will do just fine. That’s the reptilian part. Ugh, food. Ugh, eat. There is a pain in Grog’s head he does not understand!If you start being yourself you will meet a lot of new people, starting with yourself. You will exude confidence. Girls will come around. You’ll have lots of time to do what the hell you want to do. You took all the trash to the curb. You’ll stop fretting about trivial matters because you did away with all the trivial people. You don’t have to live up to your labels anymore because you become a label.
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