June 5th, 2017

Note (12JUN2017): As the Mohammedans continue their “Silent Invasion” of these United States of America and their not-so-silent invasion of Europe, Western Civilization continues to rend itself into conflicting pieces. The Sun rises in the East and sets in the West; in this case, on the on the East and on the West.

Tell me, tell me, tell me lies. Tell me lies. Tell me sweet little lies.” -from Little Lies (1987) by Christine McVie (b. 1943) and Eddy Quintela (b.1955)

“Believing is seeing, but seeing is not believing.” -drawn from John 11

Fools fooling themselves. Seeing only that which they wish to believe.

They had opened the gates to groups that would destroy them economically; politically; sociologically; and, yes, biologically. Firstly, a group of an entirely different race then two groups of different sub-races. Oh, they had been warned more than a generation before by a then-prominent politician. They vilified him as a “Nazi”, driving him into infamous obscurity.

The first group had no particular culture except stupidity, ignorance, and violence. Once inside, it continued to do that which it had done whence they had come. Common criminality prone to violence, preying mainly on its own kind.

“There are none so blind as those who will not see.” – John Heywood (1497-1580)

The second group came from an ancient culture characterized by aristocratic, class-based divisions; intelligence; and industriousness. Its presence, however, added to the divisiveness of diversity generated by the first group, weakening the native culture and changing its biology while undermining its centuries of internal evolution. Furthermore, if that group, why not others? Others were to be.

“Make war on them until idolatry shall cease and God’s religion shall reign supreme.” -The Recital (The Koran), The Spoils 8:36

The third group came from relatively recent but increasing populous religion born in war and committed to homicidal violence against those who disagreed. As its presence increased, its violence increased with mass killings of random victims.

“It isn’t that they can’t see the solution. It is that they can’t see the problem.” -G.K. Chesterton (1874-1936)

“Those who say, ‘The Lord of Mercy has begotten a son,’ preach a monstrous falsehood, at which the very heavens might crack, the earth split asunder, and the mountains crumble to dust. That they should ascribe a son to the Merciful, when it does not become the Lord of Mercy to beget one!”The Recital (The Koran), Mary: 19:88

Still, they refused to define the problem as it clearly was. They falsely claimed that the religion of the invaders was a “religion of peace” when it clearly and explicitly was born as a religion of war to rationalize territorial conquest — war primarily against the detested Christians. History be damned! They denied the obvious.

“The term, ‘Moderate Islam’, is ugly and offensive. There is no moderate Islam. Islam is Islam.” -Recep Tayyip Erdoğan (b. 1954), Prime Minister of Turkey (2003- )

They apologized for the sworn enemies who had invaded their country in order to destroy it. They false claimed that most of the homicidal invaders, in fact, were moderate in their beliefs and peaceful in their actions. Untrue! The substantial majority of the third group not overtly violent remained covertly sympathetic to the violence. Their intolerance of the truth led to the authorities arresting for “hate speech” those among them who protested against the obvious lies, labelling the arrested “xenophobes” for trying to protect their homeland and themselves.

“Wherever the Mohammedans have had complete sway, wherever the Christians have been unable to resist them by the sword, Christianity has ultimately disappeared.” – American President Theodore Roosevelt (1901-1909)

Biobehavioral Science tells us that every discrimination carries with it an implied set of instructions; for example, in the context of driving a car, a passengers shouts, “The traffic-signal just turned red!”

It is said that one picture is worth a thousand words. The colored photograph slashed broadly across the front page of a national newspaper showed a young, blond policewoman holding a bouquet of flowers given to her by a grieving young, blond woman holding a dog about to defecate on the sidewalk.

In the context of being invaded, to admit the truth demanded action that the cowardly, misguided, and self-loathing ideologues refused to take. Instead of harsh retaliation and mass deportation of the invaders, they organized mournful vigils with candles and flowers. The late-paederast and wife-beater, Mahatma Gandhi (1869-1948), would have been proud. Their pathetic response certainly is affrighting their invaders, no end. Candles and flowers against guns and bombs.s

After another bloody “incident”, the President of a cousin-country suffering even worse from the same invaders sent a message stating boldly, “We are with you.”

Really? How?

Perhaps, that which the Mama’s Boy meant was that his people, who just had elected him, would stand on their respective decks as their ships of state sank. If so, he was not alone.

Once again, the Sun was rising in the East. The last bastion of Western civilization encompassing Christianity was becoming the giant nation that straddled East and West. As had its Oriental neighbor been shedding debilitating Communism, it had been shedding a debilitating form of democracy in favor of a transition toward Fascism. Despite vicious attacks from the West for reclaiming territory that had annexed in war from the Mohammedan Ottomans in the 19th-century, under its autocratic President the nation was weathering the economic storm initially unleashed by a declining nation on fire from across the Atlantic.

Biobehavioral Science tells us that behavior has its consequences. As a people committed to its own joyful suicide, those in the West refuse to listen. Consequence? Reality will exact its toll.

So it is. So it will be.

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May 1st, 2017

[Note 1: The author is a pilot with a commercial license and multi-engine and instrument ratings. He has flown numerous types of aircraft, single and twin-engined, from Piper Cub to Cessna 150 to Cessna 210 to Cessna 310 to Piper Seneca to Beechcraft p-Baron to Beechcraft Duke.]

Fictional Anecdote 1
“Sir, please take your seat. The Captain has asked everyone to take their (sic) seat. The ‘fasten seat-belt sign’ is on.”

“Hey, I’m just changing my seat for that empty one next to the window across the aisle.”

“I’m sorry, Sir, but we’re experiencing some turbulence, and it could get worse without warning.”

Another male passenger shouts, “Let the guy change seats. What is this . . . a concentration-camp? We’re the customers. We’re not prisoners. The customer is always right. Come on, folks, let’s take a vote.”

“Sir, please take your seat.”

From a loudspeaker, “This is your Captain. Everyone, please be seated with your seatbelts fastened.”

“Sir, I’m ordering you to take your seat.”

“What’re you gonna do? Beat me up? Look, I’m sorry, but it’ll just take a second. Besides, there is no bad weather. Look out the window. The sun is shining.”

“Sir, sit down! That’s an order.”

With those words unheeded, the recalcitrant passenger begins a dash across the aisle to the adjoining row. As he is about to enter it, the aircraft encounters turbulence — extreme turbulence — clear-air turbulence.

It plunges downward hundreds of feet then upward hundreds of feet. Passengers scream. The airliner momentarily is out of control. Violence ends as quickly as it had begun. Meanwhile, the recalcitrant passenger became a human missile, flying through the air, bouncing off other passengers, then landing atop a toddler.

“Mommy, I’m hurt! I’m hurt!”

The mother becomes hysterical, screaming at the man, “What have you done to my baby?”

He cannot hear her. Lying sprawled atop the screaming child, his unblinking gaze fixed at the ceiling, he never will hear anything again. His neck is broken. The child never will walk again. Her spine is severed below the neck. Let passengers rule?

Fictional Anecdote 2
An airliner taxies towards its assigned runway. A young woman in her twenties arises from her assigned seat. A steward leaves his to rush towards her.

Approaching, he surveys the woman — skinny with stringy, multi-colored hair and a multitude of tattoos covering her neck, arms, and legs. Through her left nostril, she sports a metallic object in the form of an arrow with a sharp point facing outwards.

He comments silently, “Man, that thing could make a helluva weapon.”

They meet. The steward detects the odor of alcohol reeking from twixt reechy lips covered with purple paint.

[Note: Alcohol acts as a diuretic.]

“Miss, please return to your seat.”

“I have to pee, and I mean right now.”

A female passenger yells, “Let the girl pee.” Some other women agree, reflecting the new age in commercial aviation.

“Miss, please,” the steward pleads, “we’re heading toward the active runway, and we’ve been cleared by the Tower for departure. You must return to your seat.”

“No way! Let me pass. Have me arrested later for having a pee. Fat chance of that, Big Time! I watch televison, you know.”

As she spits her last words into his face, a fueling truck on a cross-taxiway darts in front of the lumbering airliner nimble in flight, ungainly on the ground. The co-pilot at the controls slams his feet down on the braking pedals. The aircraft lurches to a sudden halt.

The steward grabs seat-backs across the aisle from one another. One hand slips. He plunges forward as the recalcitrant passenger begins tumbling backwards. His head strikes her bony chest, pushing her to the right and spinning her around. She falls heavily into the lap of a male passenger holding in his arms an infant. Her nasal arrow pierces the infant’s eye. The baby howls in agony.

Horrified, the enraged father pushes the bewildered woman off him, hands the howling baby to his wife, then attacks the woman now sprawled across the aisle. Throttling the wretch, he seems intent on killing her.

Two stewardesses rush to her aid. The man swats them away like flies. The injured steward and two other, male passengers pull him off. They wrestle him to the floor.

After a conversing via the inter-com with the steward and receiving clearance from Ground Control to return to the gate, the Pilot-in-Command, shaking his head, says to his colleague, “No more! This fly-boy is getting a job hauling freight.”

The airliner arrives at the gate. An ambulance rushes the injured infant to a local hospital. The police arrest both the young woman and the father.

Days later, an ophthalmologist, now labeled a “healthcare provider,” pronounces the infant’s eye blinded. The parents file suit against the airline for willfully failing to control the passenger.

A prosecutor exonerates the young woman, characterizing the blinding an accident. She files a lawsuit against the airline. The airline settles promptly. Its CEO publishes a personal, public apology to her.

The prosecutor charges the father with assault to commit murder. He pleads “temporary insanity”. The court judges him innocent by virtue thereof and orders him to see a “therapist” to gain “anger control”. After paying his lawyer’s bills, he declares bankruptcy. Let passengers rule?

Actual Incident 1
One sunny afternoon with puffy, white clouds dotting the sky, having departed from Honolulu International Airport in a Cessna 172 for a sightseeing flight around Oahu, a passenger and the author approach Kaena Point. The passenger is carrying a camera ensconced in a hard-shelled case. Without warning, the aircraft encounters turbulence — extreme turbulence — clear-air turbulence. It plunges downwards. The pilot’s hands fly upwards off the yoke. His feet lift off the rudder-pedals. The camera strikes the roof of the cabin. The aircraft is out of control. Violence ends as quickly as it had begun only to recur once more.

Upon returning to the airport with winds now gusting to 35 knots, he lands the aircraft intact. His passenger lifts the camera. Its hard-shelled case is cracked open from the blow received. Were it not for their seat-belts, passenger and, worse, pilot would have been knocked unconscious. Such is the power of Nature.

Actual Incident 2
A passenger on an airliner still sitting at the gate is requested to deplane by personnel from the airline. He refuses. He is directed to deplane. Again, he refuses. He becomes hostile. The personnel call the police.

After trying to convince him to depart, the police forcibly remove him from the aircraft. Unauthorized, he reënters.

When police try to remove him again, he attacks them physically. They drag him from the aircraft, bleeding.

Other passengers? They side with the recalcitrant passenger.

Later, the American public largely sides with passenger. Big Media of both The Left and The Right side with him. Given the ruckus from the public, police nationally, already under fire from Big Media and The Left, refuse to intervene further in such incidents.

Who is the man? A physician who graduated medical school not in these United States of America but from the University of Medicine of Ho Chi Minh City, a city previously known as Hanoi, located in that which previously was North Vietnam. Recall the North Vietnamese? They’re the folk who killed 58,000 American soldiers not so long ago and tortured hundreds others as Prisoners of War at places like the “Hanoi Hilton”, the Geneva Convention be damned!

How did this Vietnamese immigrant express his gratitude for being allowed to live and work in these United States of America? He became a felon convicted of trading narcotics prescriptions and cash for homosexual favors in motels. He became a habitual gambler for high stakes. His gratitude extended to his medical license being suspended in 2003, following his being arrested on charges including unlawful prescribing and trafficking in a controlled substance. At the hospital at which he held privileges, he became the subject of numerous complaints. He developed a history of impulsive, explosive behavior.

This is the man who unilaterally assumed authority on an airliner. This is the man with whom other passengers sided. This is the man with whom the American public sides. Let passengers rule?

Unsurprisingly, anyone who states these facts is branded a “racist”, especially by The Left and becomes subject to all the social abuse that that questionable term unleashes upon those so labelled. As in Canada, the truth is no defense. Western civilization, where goest thou?

The antecedent occasioning personnel to request the man’s deplaning? “Over-booking” with the reässigning of seats to other personnel from the airline.


At issue is not the policy of the airline. Perhaps, the policy was ill advised. A case can be made otherwise. Whatever the case, legally a reservation does not guarantee a seat on a particular flight, merely transportation from Point A to Point B. Flights change frequently as a function of mechanical problems and meteorology beyond the control of the airline.

So, what is the issue? The primary issue in Incident 2 is that a passenger on an airliner received a directive from authorized airline personnel. He resisted the directive and, thereby, interfered with the normal operation of the aircraft by the crew. Even that he subsequently became violent is secondary.

Booking policy notwithstanding, an aircraft is not a bus that can be stopped at the roadside to resolve problems. An aircraft is a delicate machine that operates in an unforgiving environment. The worst airliner mishap in history occurred on the ground.

What if an airliner is in the air in an emergent situation? Diverting the pilots’ attention from flying the aircraft to policing recalcitrant passengers endangers the aircraft, it passengers, and its crew. Potential consequence? People die. Rule by passengers?

The ultimate authority in the operation of an airliner is the operator, the airline. In turn, it designates an appropriately licensed pilot (Airline Transport Pilot) with a current medical certificate as the Pilot-in-Command (PiC). Once the doors close, the PiC has total authority and responsibility. The PiC is just that which the title denotes — in command.

Technically while at the gate with the door open, the operator of the airliner or designee retains authority. The aircraft is the property of the operator, the airline. As owner, the operator possesses the legal right to remove passengers. If you allow someone into your home then he refuses to leave when requested, have you no recourse?

FAR 135.120 Prohibition on interference with crewmembers: No person may assault, threaten, intimidate, or interfere with a crewmember in the performance of the crewmember’s duties aboard an aircraft being operated under this part.

A passenger legitimately may disagree with policy. Once aboard, however, a passenger may not refuse a directive of the operator, the PiC, or a designee. By refusing to comply with a directive, a passenger is interfering with crewmembers in the operation of the aircraft.

Once the door closes, the PiC of an aircraft is just that which the title denotes — in command of any and all operations of the aircraft, including an aircraft on the ground. An aircraft is not a democracy. Passengers do not rule; they have no say. When a passenger boards an aircraft, he is under the authority of the operator and the operator’s designee, the PiC.

trespass vb.: to go or intrude on the property, privacy, or preserves of another with no right or permission.

When the recalcitrant passenger reëntered the airliner again without permission, he became guilty of a second offense — trespass. The recalcitrant, assaultive, trespassing passenger was in the wrong on two counts and, thereby, subject to both criminal prosecution and civil tort.

Some have raised the ridiculous argument that, under this doctrine of operators and pilots’ authority, airline personnel could issue a completely inappropriate, if not illegal, directive such as to undress. Argument ad absurdum! It never has occurred. It never will occur. Other personnel would countermand it immediately.

So, afterwards what actually did occur? What did the perpetrator do?

He did that which many Americans would do. He claimed that he was the victim. He found a lawyer, or a lawyer found him, and they filed a lawsuit.

Rather than being castigated as a perpetrator and serving time in jail as punishment for his misbehavior and rather than facing a civil action by the airline for trespass, he became celebrated and pitied as a victim, and he sued the airline, reaping a sizable reward in a settlement. Likely, had he not settled, at trial he would have received a sizable reward from a jury ensconced in a courtroom housed in a building versus dependent upon an airliner at 35,000 feet surrounded by a thin tube of aluminum — a jury safe and sympathetic to his cause. Justice or mob-rule?

Could this encounter and its aftermath serve as a model for other passengers? It already has.

Another airline just suspended a male employee as a consequence of his arguing with a passenger when she demanded to bring aboard her child’s stroller. Then, another passenger, a male, threatened to assault physically the flight-attendant. Both passengers were given “psychotherapy” on the spot and relented. The incident was recorded, as usual, on someone’s so-called smart-phone and went “viral”. Passengers rule.

[Note: An assault is a threat of bodily harm coupled with an apparent ability to cause the harm. It is both a crime and a tort and may result in either criminal or civil liability.]


Consider the following question: Of the more than two-million passengers flying every day, what percentage are mentally deranged? At any given moment, one-percent of the population is actively psychotic suffering delusions and hallucinations. Such people are five times more likely to become violent than the average person. Estimate that only one-tenth of one-percent of the one-percentage is a passenger on an airliner on any given day. The result is that minimally twenty passengers aboard airliners daily are actively deranged and dangerous. That number does not include a multitude under the influence of mind-altering drugs, probably numbering in the thousands. Reality!

A directive is a directive. It is not the occasion for psychotherapy as happened in the latter instance with the argumentative, hostile mother and her assaultive sympathizer.

What will be the long-term consequences of these incidents? Better service? Fine but at what cost? More such incidents? More such lawsuits? Deaths? Ultimately, the reality of context and consequences will rule.

Controlling Variable
So, the American public largely sides with recalcitrant passengers violating laws and jeopardizing safety. What’s the controlling variable?

In the context of being a passenger, actual or potential, the general public is operating vicariously under the same contingencies as though they were the passengers in question. In that context, all have common variables controlling their thoughts, feelings, and behaviors. In the jargon of psychoanalytic theory, the controlling variable is “identification” — the public “identifies” with the offenders.

[Note: The term, “identification”, may be a handy shorthand, but it offers no scientific explanation.]

Meanwhile, operators and flight-crews operate under a different and occasionally conflicting set of controlling variables. Aboard an aircraft, which set of variables should take precedence? Who should rule? Operator and PiC or passengers?

Given the public outcry, operators and police are bending to a media-orchestrated public outcry. The at-risk operator of the airline in question even groveled repeatedly before posturing politicians sitting safely in Congress and an outraged public sitting safely at home or at work.

Now, no police will intervene except in cases of safety and security? Oh? Who determines safety and security at any particular moment? What are the criteria? Who makes the decision on the spot and at the moment? Politicians? Lawyers? Perhaps, passengers deciding by vote.

What will be the consequence of withdrawing policing enforcement? Anarchy? Anarchy on an airliner? Anarchy on an airliner in flight? Consider an even more recent brawl between two male passengers aboard a third airline. Flight-crews are not capable of enforcing directives without the contingency of support from the police and the courts, nor should they be.

Now, consider the recent riots on academic campuses where students rule over cowering administrators, and police do nothing — the University of California at Berkeley and Middlebury College, for example. Mob-rule!

The trend will not last because it cannot last. In the end, the reality of context and consequences rule — not passengers on airliners or students on campuses. Forget not that anarchy always is followed by tyranny.

Visit Inescapable Consequences.

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March 20th, 2017

As he had for more years than he cared to count, the elderly gentleman dressed in a three-pieced, dark-grey suit with white shirt; striped, grey-and-red tie; and black, wing-tipped shoes pushed through the revolving door to the old-style drugstore at the corner of Main and Grove. He removed a light-grey fedora from a head still covered with once-blonde, now silver-white hair parted neatly on the left. Clear, blue eyes surveyed a scene from generations before, a scene in which he had participated since opening his medical practice, a scene refusing to die.

The hour still was early. Slivers of first light were appearing. The soon-to-be bright Sun barely illuminated the dark nighttime sky.

Being a widower, Doctor Rufus Jenkins preferred not to breakfast alone. Years before, youthful passion had overcome prudence waiting to mature. Still a student, he could not afford to marry his sweetheart from high school.

Passion, however, screamed, Yes!”

Prudence murmured, “No.”

Passion ruled. Three months later, Emma fell ill. Acute leukemia. Weeks later, she died. In those days, effective treatments remained hidden beyond the medical horizon.

Grief never departed. Romance never returned. Marriage died with Emma.

Instead, he dedicated his life to his chosen calling, medicine. Medicine, not a job. Medicine, not an occupation. Medicine, not even a profession. For “Doc” Jenkins, medicine represented a calling like the clergy.

In an age of “healthcare” instead of medicine, “healthcare-plans” instead of insurance, and “providers” instead of physicians, such a man had become an historical relic.

Another historical relic was Parson’s Drug Store & Luncheonette. It clung to life, a symbol of a previous era, alone in a modern smorgasbord of homogenized, self-service “fast food” from cookie-cutter outlets filled with uncomfortable seating limiting long stays — factory-food served in an atmosphere of depersonalizing anonymity by human robots with empty minds expecting you, the unthinking customer, to fill their jars labelled “TIPS”. Reminder: Don’t forget to bus your own table, leaving your droppings for the next customer as the previous one did for you — droppings that rarely are cleaned. The sign on the trash will thank you for feeding it.

The town itself still existed only as a consequence of a former native-son’s having returned to buy a building left vacant by its previous owner, a manufacturing firm that had fled to China then to Viet Nam with headquarters relocated to Ireland. Revolutionary robotics of today instead of traditional textiles of yesterday. With the change, the once dismal future of the town suddenly seemed secure, at least for the moment. Chance and change would tell the tale.

As for the pharmacy, Abraham Parson had opened his apothecary in an age of bromides and enemas. His son, Ben, succeeded him. His grandson, Adam, maintained the now-profitless pharmacy still closed on Sundays with its luncheonette still open for breakfast and lunch. An old-fashion “phosphate”? Still available at Parson’s!

Yes, “chain-stores” selling everything from medicines to motor-oils had challenged the old-time pharmaceutical tradition. They offered longer hours and lower prices with the ubiquitous depersonalizing anonymity and sense of isolation increasingly prevalent in a society firmly ensnared electro-magnetically in a man-made web of radio-waves.

Alas, the independent pharmacy was receding into the past as was the traditional practice of medicine. Even the local supermarket offered not only a pharmacy but a “walk-in clinic” staffed by “Dr. Nurse”. Why should anyone want a physician in a medical office, anyway, when he can have a nurse in a supermarket? Quicker? Yes. Cheaper? Yes. Better?

Fortunately for those few customers who still preferred amiable social intercourse with a knowledgeable staff that knows you by name, Adam Parson had made a tidy sum trading foreign currencies via the Internet. Had he not done so, Parson’s Drug Store & Luncheonette would have become a distant memory among only the elderly losing theirs. Even so, many of his long-standing, loyal customers were departing for their final voyage. Destination? Unknown.


As usual, “Doc” Jenkins was the first customer of the morning. As usual, he strolled the same route to the counter. As usual, he selected the same stool that he always selected.

Yes, the elderly physician had become partial to small rituals. Continual change with its often spurious sense of novelty seemed more suited for the young. Familiar routines with their spurious sense of comfort seemed more suited for the old.

“Any port for an old ship in a storm,” he told himself.

While unfolding his daily, printed newspaper, he heard a familiar female voice calling from the other end of counter, “Morning, Doc! The usual?”

Without moving his gaze from the printed page, he replied, “The usual please, Lulu.”

Hearing approaching footsteps, he looked her way. The years had transformed a young, pretty, curvaceous and vivacious cheerleader with long, straight, naturally chestnut-red hair into an old, wrinkled, tired waitress with hair now short, frizzy, and reddish-orange. He watched her now-dumpy body with fleshy arms and swollen ankles carry freshly brewed, hot coffee his way. Her sad eyes belied her forced smile.

“Doc” Jenkins mused, “No wonder the young feel aversion towards the elderly. Someday, thereto go they. Scares the Hell out of them and rightly so. Little gold to be found in the Golden Years.”

Moments later, Sam, the short-order cook, handed Lulu the usual plate of two eggs over-easy accompanied by crisp bacon and well-buttered wholewheat toast. With a sigh but no smile, the aged waitress delivered the traditional, satisfying, American breakfast decried loudly and widely as “unhealthy” when they who made the claim, ignorant of their native tongue, meant unhealthful.

Lulu mused, “If I had a buck for each of these, I’d be a millionairess. Well . . . close.”

About to take his first bite, “Doc” Jenkins sensed a new presence. A young man, almost still a boy, took the stool on his left.

The youth was handsome with his black hair and eyes as grey as a wolf. Hair shaved on both sides left a wide swath slick from pomade combed back from a perfectly formed forehead atop an unshaven face. His arms were littered with tattoos, the most prominent reading “Born to die!” and “Mom” inside a heart. Some claim that tattoos are windows to the soul.

Glancing at the lad, the physician continued his previous line of thought. “Seniors! The Media call us ‘seniors’. A sick joke. What does it make the younger generation, ‘juniors’? Seniors! A pathetic euphemism straining to mitigate the specter of ageing.”

In that which sounded like a whisper, the young man said, “What luck! Am I glad to find you here, Doc.”

The elderly physician nodded and replied, “If you’re going to whisper, move to my right. My hearing is better on that side.”

Switching stools, the young man said, “Hey, no problem. I didn’t think I was whispering.”

The words caused the physician to cringe. “Oh God, my hearing must be getting worse. Another joy of old age.”

Truly, for all but a lucky few, entering old age heralds a continuing series of losses with few gains, fewer head-colds being one of the gains. A poor bargain, indeed. Little wonder that depression and the elderly become frequent companions.

Lulu approached the young man. “What can I get you, Hon?”


“Coca-Cola? For breakfast?” With a shrug, she turned and headed for the soda-fountain.

With a glass of colored, fizzy water sweetened with syrup from corn not sugar before him, the young man almost shouted, “Like I said, Doc. Dumb luck finding you here.”

“Pipe down! I can hear you without your shouting. Why so glad?”

The young man placed his unshaven upper lip next to the physician’s freshly shaven ear and whispered loudly, “I’ve got a problem.”



“Come see me at my office. Make an appointment.”



“Did you hear me, son, or you going deaf, too?”

“Deaf? Me? Going deaf? No, way! No problem there.”

“In that case, do you want to tell me what is your problem, or shall I guess?”


“All right, son, I’ll guess. Your problem is sexual.”

“How’d you know, Doc? Who told you?”

“You did but not in words. Supposedly, b fsy chance, you spied me here. You came in because you don’t want to come to my office, right?”

“Yeah, right.”

“Why? Because you don’t want a medical record.”



The young man’s concern was justified. Like all his medical colleagues, Dr. Rufus Jenkins employed a computerized medical record offered by a local hospital, one of a large chain of hospitals all using the same inter-connected system. The old-style physician had resisted. Reality, however, has its way. Had he been willing to forego payment for most of his services, he could have continued using ink on paper stored in folders.

The new system actually proved less efficient than the old and certainly more public. Instead of dictating the findings of an initial History & Physical or jotting in ink from a pen a quick Progress Note onto paper, he endured the cumbersome, sometimes confusing task of searching for the correct box in the correct image projected onto the screen of an electronic monitor. Worse, the “techies’ continually were “updating” the system with changes initially befuddling even for users much younger and more savvy.

“O brave new world that has such people in ’t!” -from The Tempest by William Shakespeare (1564-1616)

Worse yet, when taking a medical history from a new patient or listening to a chief complaint from a current one, his focus was on a screen and keyboard — not on the patient’s face and body. More than once, he had complained to medical colleagues, “It’s an evil change . . . evil in the name of progress. Worst of the worst is patients’ loss of privacy. Change? Yes. Progress? If so, it’s progress without a conscience. Who would design such perfidy with no thought to consequence?”

Admittedly, loss of privacy can create an adversarial system between physician and patient; whereby, the patient withholds vital information, not wanting the rest of the world to gain access to it. Truly, the sanctity of the physician-patient relationship has been violated. Is the sanctity of the lawyer-client relationship next? Apparently.

The new electronic context had put into a bind the elderly physician bound to tradition. If he even listened to his potential patient without creating an official record, be there a lawsuit, he would have no written documentation for his defense. Contemporary legal contingencies demanded that, to be true to his malpractice-insurance, he create a record. Traditional medical contingencies demanded that, to be true to his calling, he render service. What to do?


Pondering his dilemma, the elderly physician noted tears in the eyes of his young companion. Youthful tears dissolved elderly caution.

“Doc” Jenkins recognized that he was leaving himself totally vulnerable. An unfounded, vexatious lawsuit filed by an avaricious lawyer of whom no shortage existed likely would become the final insult among so many others to his remaining in practice.

“All right, son, I’ll tell you what I can do for you. Accompany me to my office. I’ll see you before we open. There’ll be no electronic record. There, however, will be one on paper kept privately by me. Also, there’ll be no charge.”

“No charge?”

“No charge! No financial charge . . . no financial record.”

With a smile revealing neglected teeth, the youth exclaimed, “Hey, Doc, you’re a cool dude.”

“Cool dude, eh? Tell me, son, why do you find the need for such secrecy about a malady so common? Today, young people carry venereal disease almost like a badge of honor. It’s a sign of . . . what do you people call it, ‘hooking up’? In my era, a first date more likely ended with kissing not copulating. Anyway, why the secrecy?”

His question seemed rhetorical. He already had noted the wedding ring to which the young man pointed.

“One night. One girl. One mistake, Doc.”

“One ugly consequence. Behavior has its consequences, you know. Bad consequences usually follow bad behaviors.”

“Yeah, that’s it. Consequences. My wife . . . I really love her, you know. She might not divorce me but knowing would break her heart.”

Later, while walking in silence to his office, “Doc” Jenkins considered some of the ramifications of human sexuality. He recalled the famous quip attributed to the long-dead Englishman, Philip Stanhope (1694-1773), “Sex:— the pleasure is momentary; the position ridiculous; and the expense damnable.” He himself added, “The expense can be more than money. Some things never change. Yet, who today remembers the scourge of syphilis in the fifteenth century, killing more than a million Europeans covered head to foot with pustules?”

Especially in the Western world, invidious forces had been undermining the age-old, worldwide concept of female chastity and male fidelity as virtues. Promoters of those forces proclaimed newly-coined “rights” based upon nothing but abstract and idiosyncratic, ideological proclamations. The undermining became wholesale with the introduction of pills to prevent conception. A pill a day keeps a baby away, allowing women to go astray. There always is a man handy willing to oblige a willing woman.

With “the pill” had come the bill — diseases. Not just syphilis. The so-called Sexual Revolution brought diseases previously unknown. Fully one-quarter of young American women now carry a venereal disease. The portals to pleasure have become the portals to pathology.

“And lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil.” -Matthew 6:13


With medical history taken and physical examination completed, “Doc” Jenkins sent his young patient to a nearby laboratory for medical tests including a smear of exudate from the male member for purposes of microscopic examination as well as culture and sensitivity. The diagnosis, however, appeared obvious — gonorrhea! He hoped the infection would prove treatable.

[Note: In 1943 with the advent of penicillin, treatment of gonorrhea had become simple and speedy. Previously, as for Emma’s leukemia, no effective treatment existed.

Prior to penicillin, men usually had cleared the infection themselves. Untreated, the infection may resolve but with urethral scaring. Scars contract. Contracting causes strictures. Strictures cause urinary retention. Treatment? Passing a metal sound through the urethra. Painful? Excruciating!

Women contracting the infection often had suffered its transformation into pelvic inflammatory disease. Untreated, “PID” can localize into an abscess then explode into widespread abdominal infection. Widespread infection can cause death. Consequence of surgical treatment? For those who survived, infertility.

“The future isn’t what it used to be.” -Paul Valéry (1871-1945)

Penicillin and other antibiotics had changed that terrifying scenario. That change, however, was yesterday. Today, a new change — actually, more of an old one. Some strains of the bacterium, Neisseria gonorrhoeae, have acquired resistance to all known antibiotics. Welcome to the past! In the case of gonorrhea, Monsieur Valery was wrong; the future is that which it used to be.]

Before the young man departed, “Doc” Jenkins announced, “I need the name of the girl. Even more than you, she needs treatment. I’ll do for her what I’m doing for you . . . if she wishes.”

“No, I’ll tell her, Doc.”

“Nothing doing! I need to inform her myself and document . . . privately . . . having done so as well as getting the names of her other sexual contacts.”

“Other contacts?”

“Come now! You don’t fancy yourself her only stud, do you?” He thought that, perhaps, he should regret having used the pejorative term. He did not.


“No, I guess not. Okay, you can tell her.”

After his patient had departed, not waiting for diagnostic confirmation from the laboratory, “Doc” Jenkins telephoned the contact. If he waited, he could not predict how many sexual contacts she might have during the interval.

The young woman answered immediately. The elderly physician explained as gently as he could the situation.

Her reply was swift and not gentle. “No way, Doctor! That’s not how it happened. I was a virgin until that . . . that . . . until he almost raped me.”

The physician thought, “A virgin? At her age? Rarer than a real silver-dollar.”

“Raped you? Serious allegation.”

As any prosecuting attorney can testify, rape is the easiest crime to allege — the hardest to prove. In an age of radical feminism, men become presumed guilty until they prove themselves innocent; a challenging task, at best.

This young woman proved to be other than a radical feminist. “All right, maybe it wasn’t real rape. I suppose that I didn’t say, ‘No!’ Anyway, I also didn’t give him ‘the clap’. He gave it to me. I’ve seen my ‘Gyn’, and I’ve been tested.”

“Doc” Jenkins took a moment to collect his thoughts. Surprise — a frequent companion of sex.

Then, he asked, “Do you know from whom he contracted the disease?”

In a softened tone, she answered, “Look, I’ve known the guy for a long time . . . pretty close. We work together. I admit it. I might’ve been partially at fault. He’s good looking. I liked flirting with him . . . nothing serious . . . just joking, or so I thought until that one time.”

“So, if he didn’t contract the disease from you, from whom?”

“Good question! He told me he’d never fooled around before . . . never cheated on his wife. Personally, I believe him. He’s not only good looking and real nice. He’s a straight-arrow.”

“So, from whom?”

“His wife. Who else? There’s been talk. The husband is the last to know, right?”

Even after all his years of medical practice, her answer made the old gentleman feel slightly sick. He silently recalled a line from Shakespeare’s Hamlet, “Frailty, thy name is woman.” He added, “And just as often, men.”

“Two more questions, Miss. Have the results of your diagnostic tests returned?”


“Yes. Gonorrhea.”

“Antibiotics. Is your case sensitive to antibiotics . . . any antibiotic?”

(Silence then sobbing.)


© Gene Richard Moss (2017)

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February 27th, 2017

Note (13MAR2017): As the nation descends into a semi-psychotic depravity promoted by disestablishmentarians, have you wondered what is the primary controlling factor governing the support of such societal insanity by more than one hundred, major corporations? What reïnforces their corporate behavior? A clue resides in the difference between a democracy and a republic.

Psychosis n.: A term formerly applied to any mental disorder now generally restricted to those disturbances of such magnitude that there is personality disintegration and loss of contact with reality. -Taber’s Cyclopedic Medical Dictionary

Can it not be said that the personality of a society, if you will, originates in its biology and presents itself as its culture? Compare, for example, the African Negroid pygmy with the Scandinavian Euro-Caucasian.

Be such the case, is not the personality of these United States of America, as we have known them, disintegrating? Is not the nation, as a whole, losing contact with reality?

Consider demographics. Has not the exponential increase in racial and ethnic diversity of the nation since 1965 ignited a fire of divisiveness that is disintegrating the prior biological and cultural persona of the nation?

See “Diversity”.

Consider sexual identity. Is not redefining sexual identity no longer as a biologically determined, physical characteristic but as a mentally driven, verbal statement a sign of having lost contact with reality?

Is it any wonder that the Chinese now characterize these United States as a nation in terminal decline? What possible justification can support the American madness? Humanitarianism?

[Note: The Hart-Celler Act of 1965 proved to be one of the most important pieces of legislation of the 20th-century, directly leading to the “multi-culturalism” of the early 21st. The original legislation sponsored by two Democrats called for admission based upon skills. It fell victim to Rep. Michael Feighan (D-OH), who called for admission based upon “family-reunification”. Ironically, anti-immigrant Feighan wrongly believed that the consequence of the change would be to admit fewer immigrants who were not Euro-Caucasians. Instead, the consequence was admission of more — neither Euro-Caucasoid nor skilled.

Both LBJ and Senator Edward “Teddy” Kennedy (1932-2009), younger brother of the late President, supported the change. Kennedy promised that the legislation would not change the complexion of the country. He lied.

Prior to 1965, the average number of legal immigrants annually was approximately 300,000. Thirty years later, it was more than 1,000,000. He also claimed wrongly that few would be from Asia. -End of Note]

Humanitarianism n.: Concern for human welfare. -Webster’s New Collegiate Dictionary

“Neither the wisest constitution nor the wisest laws will secure the liberty and happiness of a people whose manners are universally corrupt.” -Samuel Adams (1722-1803); essay in The Public Advertiser, c.1749

Humanitarianism has become a self-righteous obscenity camouflaging a multitude of sins. Instead of promoting the greatest good for the greatest number, it has degenerated into sacrificing the whole in order to serve a part, often an undeserving part; even a minuscule, undeserving part.

In the name of “humanitarianism”, while invoking so-called rights that never have existed nor should exist, the disestablishmentarians have concocted a euphemism for a particular form of sexual perversion; namely, “trans-gender”. Then, to protect the perverts who cloaked themselves in that euphemism, less than one-tenth of 1% of the population, the disestablishmentarians are destroying a millenia-old history of basic morality, commonplace decency, and personal privacy of the most intimate kind.

As for ostensibly protecting children characterizing themselves of the opposite sex, the majority of such children revert to normalcy by the time of their adolescence. Beware of those subverting society in the name of “protecting the children”.

The false claim of “trans-gender”as a sexual identity is based upon subjective, cognitively-modulated mental activity. True sexual identity is based upon objective, genetically-determined physical attributes.


The issue is biological not psychological. To deny this fact is to deny reality; which, in turn, furthers this nation on fire in its descent into semi-psychosis — exactly that which the disestablishmentarians desire . Abstract, idiosyncratic, misguided ideologies promoting outrages of semi-psychotic proportions in the name of so-called social justice subvert any sound, rational basis for law, policy, and social intercourse.

Whence comes the recent clamor for legitimizing the illegitimate? From those who ascribe to traditional American ideals and values? From those who ascribe to written Judeo-Christian doctrine? From those who ascribe to the Constitution of the United States of America as written?

“He who controls the present controls the past. He who controls the past controls the future.” -George Orwell (1903-1950)

No. The clamor comes from those atheistic and agnostic secular-relativists who, striving for power, distort history and destroy not only traditional American ideals and values but all of Western civilization. Paradoxically, many are themselves self-loathing Euro-Caucasians whose own biological and cultural heritage they desire to destroy.

Common sense bears witness that any society expecting to survive over generations must provide some format by which to bear and rear children. For millennia, the format worldwide had been families consisting of legal unions sanctioned by government between men and women. Persons violating that format typically received severe condemnation; often ostracism from the rest of society; sometimes death.

Consider the plight of the American Negro as a tragic paradigm. The politicians and bureaucrats, especially the Democrats, intentionally have turned Negroes into serfs dependent upon Big Government. They’ve destroyed the Negroid sub-culture by destroying the Negroid family. Eighty-percent of Negroid births is out-of-wedlock. What future have these children historically considered bastards?

Among American Euro-Caucasians, 38% of births is illegitimate. In 1950, 2% was.

What more effective way to wreck traditional Americana than to destroy the traditional American family? What more effective way to destroy the American family than to abandon common decency in favor of a depravity rarely witnessed before in human history, if ever?

The goal? To have replaced current, concrete reality with an abstract, ill-conceived, quasi-Marxist utopia impossible to achieve.

This declining nation now on fire faces an uncertain and unsettling future. As we descend into the pit of moral anarchy, let us remember that which becomes our ultimate destination — the Hell of tyranny.

Biobehavioral Science tells us that behavior has its consequences. The response of that which remains of a sane society to counter the current attack will determine the ultimate consequences of our behavior as individuals and as a society.

So, what best to do and how to do it? Are there answers to those two questions? Fortunately, yes.

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