Francis posted an interesting screed this morning on having the courage to name one’s enemies. It got me thinking, as his posts often do. Tom Kratman has explained to me on more than one occasion that pacifism is moral cowardice. If you are unwilling to fight for your beliefs, if you are unwilling to confront evil, how can you call yourself good? This was one of the reasons I abandoned the Seventh Day Adventist church to swim the Tiber, as it were. Adventism preaches pacifism, and though there have been those Adventists like Desmond Doss who absolutely could not be described as cowards, the ideology as a whole comes uncomfortably close to it. Even Desmond’s heroism and sacrifice meant that someone else had to do the fighting. In other words, a nation full of nothing but Adventists would be conquered in short order.
In this sense, pacifism requires a sort of freeloading in order to exist. Someone must fight so that you do not have to fight, or else evil walks in the front door, kills you, takes your stuff, and your pacifist ideology goes extinct. History gives us a few examples of what happens when pacifism exists without someone willing to fight on its behalf, including the story of the Moriori.
Francis took issue with David French and the man’s constant bleating about Trump’s supposed disobedience of Christian morality because Trump names his enemies, and fights his enemies in the political arena. Pre-Trump, this trait was relatively rare in the Republican party. Most members were content to play the game as gentlemen, secure their sinecures, and fill the role of polite opposition to the Democrat party. A role, it should be noted, that suited men like David French well enough.
Now for one, I think it’s a mistake to ascribe “Christian values”, especially those derived from an Evangelical line of thinking, to Donald Trump. It’s silly when Trump supporters cast him as a being a gift from God or something. And it’s silly from the other side, when the Frenchies of the world disparage him because, in their mind, he’s not a good enough Christian. But more importantly, the notion that Trump defending himself from a barrage of media and political attacks is somehow immoral is idiotic at best, and cowardly pacifism at worst.
Consider what a regular person would do when accused of a crime. Would he defend himself from the accusations? If he knew himself to be innocent of the charges, and suspected his accusers knew likewise, would he not regard the accusers as his enemies? And if they were his enemies, trying to railroad him for personal gain, is he not permitted to say so? Is the Christian supposed to sit idly by and allow himself to be unjustly tried and sentenced? Why?
If the answer is “because Christ did”, you might want to rethink that. Christ had a higher mission that required sacrifice, to save humankind from its own mistakes. To knowingly sacrifice yourself for the good of others is a great and noble trait. This is not the equivalent of pacifism, however. If Trump did not fight his enemies, and let himself be defeated by them without a fight, what good is he doing? For who or what is he sacrificing himself? For the peace of mind of talking heads on CNN? For the sensibilities of Leftist politicians? For the aid and comfort of his enemies? That’s not Christ-like in the least. It’s stupid, though.
Christ’s exhortation to “Love your enemies,” in the theological lexicon of First Century Judea, simply means to regard them as children of God like yourself. You are not to wish them harm, nor to harm them by any action you can avoid. But if you must fight them for a good reason, you do so.
Love your enemies is not an exhortation to allow yourself to be conquered, enslaved, or murdered by them. It is, rather, to regard them as human, like yourself. When you regard your enemies as less than human, you become like them. You become what you hate. Tom Kratman has explained that your enemy will learn from you. If you do [some horrible thing], he will likewise do it to you, sooner or later. If you must fight, then fight. Sell your cloak and buy a sword. But never forget that your enemies are human, too. They are children of God, also. He may be your enemy, but after you have defeated him, it is well and good to pray for his soul, for his redemption from whatever evil was afflicting him. Consider, also, the possibility that you have been touched by evil too.
Trump has many flaws, far too many for a quick blog post. But his willingness to name his enemies and to fight them on the political stage is not one of them. That is a virtue. And David French’s virtue signalling about his moral superiority is, in fact, a vice. Christ tells us not to trumpet our works before us. Those who do good have their own reward. Virtue signalling is not required. God already knows your heart on these matters, and the opinions of the mob don’t matter in the grand scheme of things.
In this respect, at least, it is possible Trump actually is more Christian than David French, at least. Not, in my opinion, that this is saying overmuch, or is even particularly relevant to politics as a whole.
Just a quick update. As a few of y’all loyal readers – who have been exceedingly patient with my lack of writing lately – reminded me… it’s probably not well to have the Fart Heard ‘Round the World as my last post of the year. I wanted to thank all of you for sticking with me through a difficult and busy year. Over the course of the last year, I’ve gotten involved in two venture capital opportunities, done about a dozen major projects around the house, dropped around 25 lbs and started at the gym pumping iron, had my first short story published in Tom Kratman’s anthology (which was awesome!), and managed to kickstart my conversion process to Catholicism (which will be official in Easter of next year, assuming all goes as I’ve been instructed).
In short, it’s been a busy year, and my poor readers have borne the brunt of it. Nonetheless, it’s been a great year even so, and I hope 2020 brings even more – albeit, one of my resolutions for next year involves writing here as well as finishing my first full-length novel. Anyway, I’ve been rambling again. I wanted to wish all of you a Merry Christmas, a Happy New Year – and, a few of you who are Jewish – a Happy Hanukkah. May next year be bright and full of opportunity, and I hope you’ve had a wonderful holiday with your family and friends.
I sincerely appreciate each and every one of you.
The Lord bless you and keep you; The Lord make His face shine upon you, And be gracious to you; The Lord lift up His countenance upon you, And give you peace.
Eric Fartwell has certainly made an impression on the voting public before. Some time ago he made sure to inform the public that their rifles were hardly useful against the government in the event of another American Revolution because, as he explained, the government has nuclear weapons and the public does not. It’s difficult to tell where he was going with that. Was he proposing that the government should use nukes on civilian populations in the event of an uprising? That’s not a scenario that ends well for anyone – least of all the government. In any event, it was a stupid comment. We’ve been in Afghanistan since I was in my early 20s, and what are they fighting with? Largely crappier weapons than American civilians are likely to have – save for fully-automatic versus semi-auto. Asymmetric warfare doesn’t require the same level of armament technology precisely because it’s asymmetric.
But whatever. I’m not going to claim I’m an expert on war. That’s for folks like Tom Kratman to go into. It’s not really a subject for me, and definitely not one for Eric Swalwell, whose familiarity with war – as with most Leftists – is quite possibly a negative number. No, today let’s talk about the other nuclear weapon in the room: the fart heard ’round the world on air. Fartgate: a political Hiroshima centered on Eric Fartwell’s ass. And damn, is he handling it poorly. It’s one thing to drop a buttquake, but quite another to do it on air. I give this one a solid 8.5, it was robust, had a nice reverberation to it, it was the kind of fart that Eric probably would’ve enjoyed (as Fat Bastard said in the Austin Powers movies, everybody loves their own brand) were the circumstances different. I always thought this guy looked like the sort of dude who Dutch Ovened himself and enjoyed it. Give it a watch, if you haven’t already:
Look at his face. Now, I may not be an expert in war, but let’s just say that I know gas. My diet is atrociously bad – or at least it used to be, I’m trying to fix that – and so I am no stranger to late night Taco Bell runs after a few beers. Or eating practically everything on the IHOP menu at 3 o’clock in the morning. Sometimes, I’m surprised my wife hasn’t divorced me – but whatever. Point is, look at the strain on his face. This is a dude who ate something he shouldn’t have, and he knows it. He’s trying to keep it together. There was a second civil war going on in his lower intestine. And brother, the South was winning this one.
Then there’s that pause and the expression his face – like Geordi LaForge in Star Trek the Next Generation when he realizes there’s a warp core breach in progress, and there’s nothing he can do to stop it. The Enterprise is doomed, Captain Picard. She’s going down. Launch the escape pods and abandon shit. That buttquake is happening, it’s an 8.5 on the sphincter scale, and there’s not much else to do but dive for cover and hope the buttquake didn’t come with any aftershocks.Eric, of course, tries to continue like nothing happened, and later he tried to deny it. But my friends, trust me on this. I know who dealt it – because in most cases, that would have been me. This guy is guilty. I’m the expert witness, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, and you better believe my testimony. In the matter of lobbing chemical weapons from behind that are worse than anything the Germans lobbed into the trenches at Verdun, I’m your guy.
The mic set to record speech picked this thing up. It wasn’t small, my friends. Hell, the Japanese would probably start running away from it. I imagine after the interview, Eric had to check his shorts and toss his underpants into a biohazard bin. But I’m sure whatever he had to say about Trump was totally important, right?
Now, could it happen to any of us? Yeah, sure. But if it happened to me – fat chance, I’d probably never go into politics – I’d own it. Hell, it could be hilarious. Don’t be embarrassed about it. “Hey, sorry, I ate too many burritos last night. And that’s why I’m so bullish on Mexican immigration! It’s climate justice, you know? Mexico has a pollution problem, and America hasn’t absorbed its fair share of methane and sulfur. It’s time for that to change! Riiiiiiiip. I’m doing my part!”
Make sure to end on a long, thin squeaker for that last little bit of comedy.
But is all seriousness, own it dude. Everybody farts. Even women who claim they don’t fart. Ever been to a women’s public bathroom? It’s a disaster area, usually. Smells like somebody was eating ten-day old lo mein and decided to wash it down with some ex-lax and a bag of those sugar-free gummy bears Haribo sells on Amazon, much to the consternation of the public. You know, the kind that lead to reviews like this one:
Makes you wonder, doesn’t it? Did Eric feast upon these little turd-Nagasaki-in-the-making treats before his interview? Wouldn’t that be the ultimate troll? Fox News should have a whole bowl of these little devil bears in their waiting area for whenever a Democrat interviews on the network. Then make them wait through lunch, just so they’re really hungry. Then put an “out of order” sign on the bathroom. Can’t be any worse than giving Hillary the debate questions in advance, right? And it’d at least be a good bit funnier.
Look, Eric, give it up. You farted. It’s human. Admit it, laugh about it, and move on. It’s only truly embarrassing if you lie about it. Everybody farts. Granted, not on live TV, but hey… roll with it. Make a Fat Bastard joke. “What the Hell? I didn’t eat any corn!” Or “wafting… wafting…” Whatever you do, though, don’t go back to California. With all those fires raging everywhere all the time in the state, you’re a MOAB, a mother of all bombs just waiting to go off. You’ll take California from roundabout the fifth circle of Hell straight to the ninth. The lesser demons would banish you to the domain of Lucifer himself, saying something along the lines of “fuck, dude, that smells like you sold your ass to the devil.”
On second thought, head to San Francisco, will ya? The political Right wouldn’t mind buying you a ticket, supplying you with the carbon offsets so you can preen about it, giving you some nice cigars and one of those big torch lighters to ensure a proper anal detonation smoke.