“F*ck The Lutherans” And Other Poorly Worded Reasons To Develop Resiliency

I did not lose sleep this weekend when I found out that BYU and USC played a game. (collegiate American style football for you technical readers). I had no interest in watching the game and the players didn’t need my support to continue their studies. I enjoyed the sleep and a pleasant streak of weather. I honestly wouldn’t have known they played if it wasn’t for Fox News’ sharing of a blurb that read:

I wasn’t offended at all. It isn’t that these people had collectedly came together to facilitate sexual relations with the Mormons in attendance. Even if they did desire to facilitate sexual relations with said Mormons, who cares? I do understand the USC fans were just trash talking and it wasn’t offensive at all. Yes, I said this.

If you are honestly unable to support a sense of wellbeing and a feeling of structure in your life without getting offended, I feel for you. You can make a habit of thinking of yourself worthy enough mentally. And you can do it without getting butthurt, or in the circumstance of a few people I have known; violent.

(I think it is childish and shows a lack of social maturity when I see people get violent over usage of slurs. It shows that people don’t have a healthy identity. It also shows that people don’t have the ability to process conflict in a healthy way).

If you know what you are, why get mad when someone says the opposite?

(I also wanted to highlight that USC school’s apology was incredibly stupid. People make decisions on their own and often in concert with other people that don’t reflect what normal behavior is. The vast majority of folks know that and the Mormon friends of BYU probably know that too. The smartest of BYU, minus triggered “chaunceys”, have enough resiliency to get on with their lives). USC didn’t owe anyone an ass kissing bs statement like they did. Silence worked better. Trojan values? Is that any different than Banana Slug values?.  

Can you not develop some resiliency to people that say things that are not in support of your lifestyle or viewpoint? If I tell you that you are a “piece of shit”; do you think that I am conceptually cropping your face on a pile of shit in the front yard?

While you are pondering reasons why you should develop some resiliency and mental fortitude, I wanted to leave you with a silly saying and lesson:

F*ck The Lutherans!!

  • Used as a hyperbolic statement by someone who disagrees with Lutheranism or some specific tenant of Lutheranism
  • Used as a call for an orgy, mass raping event, or flirty fishing event to convert people to Lutheranism
  • Come at me; Lutherans! Never mind you could try to base an argument on your church’s doctrine.
  • A cheer used at a Pacific Lutheran University football game when you want to harangue PLU’s team, especially when supporting George Fox’s team.

https://www.foxnews.com/sports/usc-fans-chant-f-k-mormons-game-byu-school-apologizes

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Navy Story: No Friend of Mine

Don’t trust anyone who is liked by everyone—Fury (@HooaFury)

He was admirable in his hard work and bearing. I could not find fault in his accomplishments. He did a great filling slots on our duty day roster and he seemed to be someone that you could depend on.

Our command almost handed him keys to the kingdom. No officers could reject the idea of having him join their ranks. I seldom remember a time where officers did not hold him in high regard. He was a shoo in for the program that allowed enlistedmen join the US Naval Academy filling an appointment. He was eventually granted a spot in that program.

I know many sailors that sand the praises of this super sailor they called “Taylor”. It was as if Taylor’s success would rub off on them like charcoal. I did not see him as some minor league celebrity. I did not spend my shore leave with his ilk or his group of sycophants. I am glad that I didn’t.

I had a friend that was a miserable sort that had a fetish like outlook for many other sailors. (I will call the fetishizing sailor; Barney). Barney’s eyes would light up when he spoke of Taylor. It was some “bro-mantic recollection of of happy times. A few other coat riding sailors did the same. I did not and Taylor rubbed me wrong.

Taylor was a stuffed shirt and substandard leader in waiting. His character flaws were looked over. He had a habit of talking badly of two people who helped train him in his original work center. (Noted that one of those people was an ignoble troglodyte but he was trusted in his job and was capable). Taylor also talked poorly of our unofficial warfare mascot). It rubbed me wrong and I didn’t join the cult.

I found myself embracing the rebel role that I had been introduced to by default. I had tried my own run at being a wunderkind and I fell short. I found myself around Taylor a few times when I was on the ship.

I did not fail him for his pride in self for his accomplishments. But I looked poorly on him for arrogance and professional faux pas. I was willing to give him a benefit of a doubt and I set forward to test so I could put it to rest.

I found him joking and speaking with a few of his loose sycophants. He stuck around shortly after his audience left, leaving us alone. I made a gamble and cracked a joke that most people that knew me would understand. Taylor took it as an insult. He did what an uptight prick would do and threaten me with “punishment by paper” (or having the officer class handle it). I didn’t physically back down and I let him know that, through my physical presence, that I was willing to rumble. (I also knew, that if I took a fall and got injured, I would be proven correct). He left shortly after his verbal threat.

I knew what kind of person or leader he would be. Many people adored him and were willing to hand him exultations, but I was not. I told Barney that Taylor was not the hero he thought he was. Barney looked at me as if I was the villain. It wasn’t the first time or the last time.

I can sleep well knowing that I didn’t puff up an unworthy leader or an narcissist. I didn’t trust the one person liked by everyone and I feel vindicated.

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FreeMatt In Review: 11-22 to 11-26

The greatest leaders are often where you don’t look. When they appear, this will be the FreeMatt in Review

The Power of Shitty Neighbors

Our Canadian neighbors remind me of the power of shitty neighbors. I shared some anecdotal stories and historical references to back it up.

Navy Story: The Wet Paint Kid and other “Tards”

I share a story that trounces the idea that our military is full of the brightest of the United States. 

In Remembrance of A South Korean Hero

I took a time out to salute a warrior of an athlete from South Korea. A few remember him and when he fell in 1982.

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In Remembrance of A South Korean Hero

I almost let this one slip me by this year. I had been pondering some of my favorite South Korean sportsmen, (Chan Ho Park from MLB, Kim Yuna from Olympic figure skater). But I had forgotten one of my most favorite yet sad mentions; Kim Duk koo aka “Gidae”

Gidae had a hard start in life and had to bust his ass. He wasn’t one of these entitled trust fund kids who silver spooned their way into the Olympics or a roster spot in professional sports. He busted his ass in the Pacific boxing world and finally got a shot at boxing in the big time.

Kim got an opportunity to box one of the most memorable boxers; Ray “Boom Boom” Mancini. I faintly remember the replays of the boxing match a few years after it happened. I also made note that it was Kim’s first 15 round boxing match. Without any jokes or humor, it was Kim’s last. He sustained injuries from the match that found him in a hospital with a subdermal hematoma, which he never recovered.

Kim was a warrior to many and a hard working athlete. He was respected by many. As I said that before, he busted his ass to get into that fight. He cut weight. He trained. He fought.

(The true tragedy is the impact that he had on those around him. Family, folks from the boxing world, and even Mancini. Many people never recovered from Kim’s death.)

He left our world on November 17, 1982 a hero to many South Koreans and to many Korean-Americans.

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Navy Story: The Wet Paint Kid and other “Tards”

Some people in the middle class had a positive idea about having one of their children join the military. (In my town, which leaned liberal, the vast majority of parents at my church wouldn’t dream of having one of their kids join up). There was always some “valiant” slant to the idea of being a man in the military.

We were fed this idea that the bravest and boldest joined the military. We saw commercials that made the military out to be these brilliant people behind the best technology. There were these radar consoles, launchers, and warrior looking dudes “tear-assing” around with some of the coolest shit. They looked like the best. But this is where things went awry…

I had originally went to electronics school. Yes, I got kicked out for low grades. (It was boring and I fell asleep. Intellectual wasteland of sorts). I had met a decent amount of folks that did well in high school or even a few that had went to tech school with some success. Most of these people had a good grasp on common sense or had understood common decency in dealing with other people.

I had thought that the navy was generally in good hands after I met folks from my school and other nearby schools. Most people seemed to have a good head on their shoulders. I learned other wise.

There were a handful of delusional child like types when I had transferred to another school. It was off putting but not the worst set of people I had ever met. This changed when I finally made it to the ship.

I would like to say that not one MOS or military specialty was responsible for the biggest idiots that I worked with but there were two that lent the largest amounts of “tards” that I had run ins with. These people weren’t the brightest and helped dispel the rumor that everyone in the military is our “nation’s best”.

One of these least brightest was “The Wet Paint Kid”. I seemed to run into this guy quite often. He worked in the ship’s kitchen (galley). He always had this slow eyed/googly look to him. He often had some weird thing to say about racecars, something he had no background with. The Wet Paint Kid ended up a part of a low rent race team, which he used to hype like his favorite movie; 8 Mile.

His blatant inability to observe a sign and inability to use simple mental processing took the cake. A trusted coworker and I were tasked with painting a highly trafficked hallway on the ship. We naturally wanted it to look good, so we put a sign on both sides of the door where we worked. We also hung a sign in between the doors to remind people that there was “Wet Paint” behind the door. It also listed the alternate path to take. Most people understood this, they walked around or even asked me the best way to get around. But not the “Wet Paint Kid”, he plowed through the sign right in front of me. I stopped him and asked him “why did you run past the sign? Can you not read””. He turned to me with the most lost look on his face and googly eyes; then told me: “I need to get through”. I tried to ask him if he had seen the sign but my coworker told me to give up and that it didn’t register with him.

I had a low opinion of that guy afterwards. He seemed to not understand certain social standards and was slow when faced with certain professional situations. But I owe him a debt of gratitude, he reminded me of other “tards” that my buddy supervised. There were multitudes that reminded me why the military wasn’t the bastion of geniuses like the commercials said and it helped me create the “light switch test” for simple intelligence.

Here is to The Wet Paint Kid and other “tards”. Hey! Did someone turn out the lights?

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The Power of Shitty Neighbors

Many moons ago (1830’s); Canada found itself being “visited” by shitty neighbors, namely assholes from the United States. The “United Statesman” had ill-intent. They came looking for a fight. The neighboring jackasses wanted to stick their nose in someone else’s business. Their example set reminded me of what crappy neighbors can do for you.

(It didn’t matter if it was invading countries for financial gain or some other idiotic reason).

Although my notes didn’t allow for a solid article today, it did allow for me to look back at where I might have went wrong.

(1) “We drove our neighbor nuts with our days long benders and fireworks shooting, causing our MILF neighbor to lose sleep and led to our eventual eviction”.

(2) I also had a neighbor, when I was crashing at a buddy’s apartment, who was a comical asshole. This jackass, who was kicked out of the military for smoking crack, broke in when he was drunk. He was locked out of his own apartment, which he didn’t want to break into.

(3) In my crappy neighborhood, there were times when we couldn’t leave our apartment. Police were often chasing someone. They often were being chased for asshole behavior and resistance to the concept of living a decent life. My next door neighbor was a great example of this. He was wanted by the US Marshalls, apparently for killing someone. (Dude looked like a tall Haitian machete killer). (I also had to stay in my apartment for nearly a half an hour when they slammed him around under the watchful eye of multiple helicopters).

I learned from much of these experiences, including when I was the one that helped cause the chaos.

I could be the bad neighbor. It didn’t matter if it was causing others to lose sleep, work, or foment “war”. I could be a better neighbor because I knew the power of the shitty neighbor.

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FreeMatt In Review: 11-15 to 11-19

Fight ye who must and battle with heart. Until then, this is the FreeMatt in Review

When You’re Done Feeling Sorry For Your Self…

I share a story about someone who was truly disabled and kicking ass.

https://freemattpodcast.wordpress.com/2021/11/19/when-youre-done-feeling-sorry-for-your-self/

To Be Cautious of The Unprofessional Makes Sense

History showed that we are often restrained by rules and those that don’t follow them can often get an upper hand. https://freemattpodcast.wordpress.com/2021/11/17/to-be-cautious-of-the-unprofessional-makes-sense/

Defending The Undefendable: Drunk Drivers

I bring an unhealthy dose of rational thought to fight against people who use emotional blackmail. This group is MADD and their target is drunk drivers. I defend them in this “Matters Court”.

https://freemattpodcast.wordpress.com/2021/11/15/defending-the-undefendable-drunk-drivers/

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When You’re Done Feeling Sorry For Your Self…

I stopped enjoying sob stories along time ago. Someone on the news or one of the many social media outlets had a “disability” to signal to bystanders. I wish they would try to do something else in their lives for meaning besides milking people for sympathy. It actually hurts people with actual disabilities or at least the people that need an actual hand in life. This reminds me…

I was at a closeout store in a nearby town. I occasionally go in their looking for odd tools or home repair crap for a scratch/dent price. It usually isn’t the most interesting place to people watch. It isn’t exciting enough to have the “People of Walmart” level of entertainment. I had a cool experience that trumped my best experiences in a Walmart or Piggly Wiggly.

40 degree weather came at the right time. I enjoyed that fall. Chopping wood and prepping the house for the winter season pushed me to the closeout store again. I didn’t lollygag but I enjoyed looking at the tools section. I was looking for a specific type of clamp for a small project. I sure as hell didn’t find it.

I had walked around aisles and drew a blank. A man politely mentioned to me that things were a little bare lately. I agreed and we both had a laugh. I asked him if he knew when the truck was coming in and he didn’t know either. I saw him fumbling around in a basin of a brackets. He seemed to spin them around in that box in lazy figure eights.

I stopped to see why he kept making strange noises in that box. It was easy to notice that he couldn’t pick up two brackets at the same time to compare them. Without trying to mind his business, I noticed what looked like bandages covering his hands. (Part of the bandages were spotted with blood). He looked at me and stopped me verbally.

He asked me the following: Would you mind giving me a hand here? I smiled and said yes. He had mentioned that he just had surgery a week ago. Not only did he have injured hands which couldn’t hold anything, he didn’t have hands at all. That dude was one interesting guy. Well read and a crafty bastard. Built his own survival shelter out in the sticks. Dug his own holes to put in his building, set up winches, and operated heavy equipment. He was able to finagle a tubing bender to put together a wiring project.

This was during his issues with nerve issues and a condition he had since he was a kid. He wasn’t upset at all. He was thankful to live another day and seemed to like life. He didn’t feel sorry for himself. He didn’t act like a “sorry cripple”. He didn’t identify as some affronted class. He didn’t signal that he was missing his hands. The only accommodation he asked for was the bare minimum of assistance.

He was a lesson for the rest of you. Quit feeling sorry for yourselves. Stop signaling and attempting to milk people for sympathy. Get on with your lives and call me when they get in a new shipment of brackets.

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To Be Cautious of The Unprofessional Makes Sense

I found myself digging around in the world’s history bin to fin a weird “happening” known as the Battle of Morgarten. It was not a huge battle but it helped shape the future of the country we know as Switzerland.

To thin things out a bit, a “confederacy” of various cantons were worried that a part of the Hapsburg family wanted to gain a part of their lands. Long story short, there was a pre-emptive move toward lands on an unused portion of a Hapsburg protected territory. Naturally, things light off.

Leopold I, Hapsburg Duke of Austria led a relatively large professional army to quash this collection of poorly trained farmer militia men and herders.

The irony is that the poorly equipped and overwhelmed confederate forces were ultimately tipped off by “good neighbors”, allowing them to get the upper hand.

Long before Mao made it popular, a small poorly equipped force laid an ambush in a tight spot of sorts, (noted that the path between a swamp and a steep slope).

It was funny to read that they threw rocks at a marching column of troops that had no way to get out of the area. Men spooked the horses that held knights and were effectively able to jab/kill knights with halberds.

Knights killed by farmers. Massive numbers were drowned in a nearby lake.

The farmers did not hold the code that many knights did, hence the slaughter and knights fleeing in confusion.

My big takeaway was that professional soldiers can lose. It is beyond a sense of moral superiority. those that don’t prescribe to “gentlemanly rules” (like the Genenva Convention or various treaties with have signed with our European counterparts) can catch the professionals by surprise, embarrass them.

I am not saying this to LARP for wannabe insurgents but as a warning that conditions change to turn the tide in the grand scheme of things. Those that we would usually never consider to be a threat can become one.

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Defending The Undefendable: Drunk Drivers

I saw MADD billboards and MADD might have spoken to one of my classes when I was in school. I had learned that a drunk driver had killed someone’s kid. It was a tragedy and it was beyond sad.

I had seen MADD representatives and their adjacent people protesting near our state/federal capital buildings. They are passionate and rightfully so. But what the Mothers Against Drunk Drivers don’t know is that they have created a new breed of criminal; the drunk driver.

Around every corner; MADD is trying to change alcohol laws, increase penalties for drunk driving, and draw attention to what they consider a moral crusade. But the truth is not apparent.

The truth is that the crimes that they fight against are often already covered by existing laws, or at least they did before they browbeat/emotionally blackmailed politicians into changing them.

Someone driving their car into your car and killing your kid is a civil matter. Often the state would leave your family empty handed and without the kid you started with when escalated to criminal matters. (Never mind the offending driver is out of the workplace for a indeterminate amount of time, not having income sucks too).

Someone drives their car into your mailbox, they owe you for a new mailbox. (Considering destroying your property is a wrong committed against your property).

I believe that people have been programmed against alcohol and those that enjoy it for numerous years. This was after Prohibition and when we thought it a great idea to give Protestants the moral high ground.

(A beloved deceased family member, a Catholic gentleman, told me about his drives home after various liquor warehouse parties. Nary a peep calling him a degenerate, even after he stole an MP’s jeep during WWII).

A loss of life is a loss of life. Another family member, a wild man of sorts, was hit by a truck on the highway. The family cried the same if it was someone drunk, stoned, high on PCP, or slightly asphyxiated on whippets. The law was not needed to differentiate.

I see other tragedies that MADD failed to see was that my friends that got “hit” by the DUI money suck were the people forced into driving. Yes, public transportation is/was not a plausible thing in certain places I lived at. The same Karens that dream up these punishments are in league with the assholes that make public intoxication worth a night’s stay in the municipal poke.

(I am not insensitive to their loss or their plight, but no one cries for the drunk anymore. We used to buoy rents in shitty buildings. We kept apartment owners from having to upgrade their facilities. We paid taxes among taxes, often more than the lowest of the community. Some of us kept the autobody shop in the black).

I have known a few guys that spent time in actual prison for DUIs. I felt like a community based organization or a NGO would have a better time dealing with these guys, instead of the legal world. Or even having a couple of “boots and bats” deal with them. It cost the taxpayer more money than one could imagine.

(And in the case of one person I knew that caused a life ending accident; the family was never made whole and they were never compensated for their vehicle/funeral costs).

If I had to ask one thing from you, it is to reconsider your “hate” for drunk drivers. But I would also ask for you to be impartial and rational when looking at the Mothers Against Drunk Driving.

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