Jacobinian Jaberwocky

I failed to post yesterday. I doubt anyone noticed. We are in the winter doldrums. The days are short. Football is for all practical purposes done. Meaningful baseball is months in the future. I really don't care about basketball at any level...you get the idea. The boring bloggity weather report is mostly unchanged. It is going to be cold. Politics are on semi-hold waiting on the Trumpocalypse to unfold, or not, depending on where you perch on the political high wire.

That reminds me, do you know where the idea of political "right" and "left" come from? During the French Revolution politically aligned persons sat together in the General Assembly. Those who leaned towards bat-shit crazy, cut off their heads, kill anyone who disagrees with us gang sat on the left side of the chamber. Those who tended to be more royalist sat to the right. Yes, a little bias crept in to my definition. That is how liberals ended up on the "left". That concept and the metric system are the gifts of the French Revolution. Oh, and example 1A of what happens to society when the Progressives gain complete control.

Political correctness is not a new concept. The notion of "equality" got so bad during the French Revolution that if you dared to dress better than the average street beggar, you could be sent on your way to the executioner. You were viewed as trying to be "better" when the mood of the day was "equality". Neighbors denounced neighbors for failure to have enough revolutionary zeal. Imagine the "Occupy Wall Street" gang on steroids. And way more hate. And the ability to kill anyone who disagrees with them. Think 1919 Russia, only with some serious killing, informing, executions, and paranoid political attacks. Imagine life in these United States if Bill Ayres and the Weathermen were in charge circa 1972. Only far worse. If you don't know what I'm talking about look up the Weather Underground and their ilk. Imagine the college campus snowflakes with the ability to extend their safe zones to include everywhere, and if you triggered them in any way you found yourself staring into a bloody wicker head-catching basket while a guillotine blade slid down toward the back of your neck.  That is why you don't hear anyone wish they had a time machine so they could go back to the time of the French Revolution.

It is Monday, and I have a ton of work to do. The kind of work that pays the bills. Mostly.

Have a great day, Citizen.