Indirect futility

Thinking about the plight of the younger generation, I’m reminded yet again of the magnificent quote from Schwellenbach:

Futility is the nemesis of democracy.

More accurately, futility is the nemesis of trust and civilization. When you’re punished for doing the right thing, you revolt. You vote and nothing ever changes. You work hard and can’t pay the rent or feed the kids. Futility.

New thought:

The Endarkenment system of “rights” and “meritocracy” generates futility by an indirect path. In older saner cultures and economies, you carried on your family farm or business. You started with preselected genes, and you were trained in the skills and expectations of the trade from birth. The village knew that you were going to be the next blacksmith or grocer, and expected you to do what you did best.

Occupational surnames like Smith and Kaufman are leftovers of the earlier caste system, which is still alive and functional in India.

The Endarkenment propagated the vicious myth of equality. All humans are identical, so everyone can do anything. As a result, most people are doing things they were NOT DESIGNED TO DO, which guarantees futility. That’s the purpose of later “rights” movements like integration and feminism. They encourage their target groups to do things that would fail, so the target groups would be dependent on the movement or the government. The newest movement is starting to reach the intentional failure moment, when trannies were encouraged to CHEAT in sports. Despite all the DEI and Title IX crap, female athletes are kicking out the CHEATERS because athletics still has a few intact scraps of real morality.

The modern village expects something of us, but it’s usually wrong.

Mostly the culture expects us to break out of our genetic tendencies and do something fashionable.

My parents and mentors expected me to be a teacher. After jail I accidentally got a job as a typesetter, which turned out to be a perfect fit for my mechanic genes and special talents in language and letters. Parents and mentors were unhappy. One mentor actually called the job “occupational therapy”. It was OK for a while until I could get back on the correct path toward teaching.