Thomas Wictor

You won’t like living in the Third World

You won’t like living in the Third World

I was born in Venezuela and lived there until I was ten. Venezuela was and is a Third World nation. A significant percentage of our fellow citizens want us to be a Third World nation. You won’t like it.

This photo was taken in Caripito on March 25, 1966. I’m in the hard hat, Tim holds Pat, Carrie smiles, and Paul plays with the peeled-off sheets from an instant-film pack, the type made by Polaroid. A Venezuelan professional photographer shot several images that day.

1966

In Venezuela it was nearly impossible to get anything done. We lived in oil camps owned by Creole Petroleum Corporation, but whenever our houses needed work, we had to call in Venezuelans. A cultural issue was that they refused to follow directions. Once Dad confronted an air-conditioner repairman who didn’t know how to do his job.

“I have sixteen children!” the man shouted. “You have only five!”

So he had exceptional semen. What did that have to do with his crapping up of our air conditioner? Imagine trying to support sixteen children on the salary you made repairing air conditioners. And believe me, only a few people in Venezuela owned air conditioners at the time. Proud, fertile, and incompetent. What a life.

You had to bribe everybody as a matter of course. Nobody took pride in his work. When Dad and Mom arrived in Venezuela in 1955 and 1957 respectively, all the driver’s doors of private cars were dented. This was because the dictator Marcos Pérez Jiménez had outlawed the use of car horns. Instead of honking horns, people banged their driver’s doors through their open windows.

American oil executives carried survival kits in the trunks of their cars. Each kit consisted of a hammock, clothes, and money. You had to be prepared for when you were arbitrarily arrested by the National Guard and thrown in prison until you bribed them to let you out. No charges were filed because none had to be. You could be held indefinitely. Under Venezuelan law you were guilty until proven innocent, and the cops relied on confessional evidence. That meant they used real torture, not the CIA version of waterboarding.

The prisoner is bound to an inclined board, feet raised and head slightly below the feet. Cellophane is wrapped over the prisoner’s face and water is poured over him. Unavoidably, the gag reflex kicks in and a terrifying fear of drowning leads to almost instant pleas to bring the treatment to a halt.

This is part of the Third Worldization of the US. I’ve never met a single person aware that the CIA technique prevented water from getting inside the victim’s mouth or nose. All the passionate debate took place between total ignoramuses. I was the only person I knew who actually researched the topic.

In 1952 Mom went to Mexico to study Spanish. During that period she suffered one of the worst experiences of her life. She and a friend were driving along a road when they came across a head-on collision. Everybody was dead except for a young man covered in blood. He ran around the car containing a middle-aged couple, fighting off dozens of campesinos who came out the underbrush to loot the vehicles.

The hysterical young man was the son of the dead couple. He had to repeatedly punch men, women, and children who silently, implacably tried to strip the bodies of their watches, jewelry, and wallets. Mom and her friend helped the young man collect all his parents’ belongings, and then they drove him to his house. They were forced to leave the dead behind. Mom stayed with the man for hours as he screamed and wept. His family went to retrieve the corpses; by that time all their clothing has been stolen. The police didn’t arrive until long after nightfall.

Today I reached my breaking point, so I decided to write a post on how we’re willingly throwing away everything that made us exceptional. You heard me: I believe in American exceptionalism. The day began with me watching a vain, prattling, superficial nitwit burn her Barack Obama T-shirt.

I watched because she has a nice ass, and I was hoping she’d get naked and put on a solo show. Yes, I’m giving her publicity, but who cares? She’s not smart enough to capitalize on it. Then on Facebook, this showed up in my News Feed. Click to enlarge.

UnAmerican

I don’t care about the paleo-leftist accusation that Republicans want to rob old ladies. Look at the origin of the moronic photo: “Americans Against the Republican Party.” It didn’t occur to the giant intellect who polluted my News Feed with that image that this is completely un-American. Demonizing the opposition to that level is what they do in the Third World.

Then I got a piece of junk mail that’s on a par with the callipygian narcissist’s shirt barbecue and the vomit from the un-American Americans Against the Republican Party. This was on the envelope.

Hussein

Ooh, so clever! Hussein Obama. Several problems with this claptrap: The NSA began abusing its power under George W. Bush; we’re spying on everybody, not just “patriots”; and I’ve heard the “_________ will declare martial law!” trope about every single president beginning with Nixon. It’s what imbeciles say. And check out the stamp on the envelope.

Stamp

When did the US Postal Service adopt Nazi symbolism? Which brings me to the last piece of caca from today. A blogger named Robyn Pennacchia is angry at the following.

“I hope it’s not working,” Ken Langone, the billionaire co-founder of Home Depot and major GOP donor, said of populist political appeals. “Because if you go back to 1933, with different words, this is what Hitler was saying in Germany. You don’t survive as a society if you encourage and thrive on envy or jealousy.”

Robyn was not having it.

I, for one, will never walk into a Home Depot again as long as I live. I don’t like being called a “Nazi” for thinking that people should be able to eat, that they should be taken care of when they’re sick. I don’t like being called a “Nazi” for being a compassionate person.

So does Robyn plan on walking into Home Depot again after she’s dead? In the real world, nobody called her a Nazi for being a compassionate person. Here are Robyn and her breasts.

Robyn

Take a wild guess: How often did Robyn haul her breasts into Home Depot, and has she ever read a word about Nazism? From the Nazi Party’s twenty-five-point platform.

7. We demand that the State shall above all undertake to ensure that every citizen shall have the possibility of living decently and earning a livelihood…

Therefore we demand:
11. That all unearned income, and all income that does not arise from work, be abolished.

12. Since every war imposes on the people fearful sacrifices in blood and treasure, all personal profit arising from the war must be regarded as treason to the people. We therefore demand the total confiscation of all war profits.

13. We demand the nationalization of all trusts.

14. We demand profit-sharing in large industries.

15. We demand a generous increase in old-age pensions…

COMMON GOOD BEFORE INDIVIDUAL GOOD

“Nazi” is short for Nationalsozialistische Deutsche Arbeiterpartei (National Socialist German Worker’s Party) or NSDAP. The Nazis were socialists, not “right wingers.” When was the last time you heard a conservative say, “Common good before individual good”? And aren’t right wingers notorious for being war profiteers? HALLIBURTON!!!!!!!!

What Ken Langone is talking about is the toxic rhetoric and primitive mindset that are contributing to the decay of our culture. Stupid people are more easily led. In a representative democratic republic, we get the government we deserve, so we basically asked for everything that’s happening.

And by “we,” I mean you blockheads who personalize politics, think in bumper-sticker slogans, don’t actually know anything, and hate everybody who thinks differently.

Fuck all of you for ruining my country.


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