We are just a group of retired spooks that discuss things that you’ll not find anywhere else. It makes us unique. Take a look around. Learn a thing or two.
Probably most cat owners have dreamed of building their cat a little home at some point, but not like this! Peter, the founder of the ZenByCat organization, and the builder of this wonderful cat paradise that we’re about to show you, slowly but surely executed his life’s dream: living in harmony surrounded by the cuddly and perfectly happy rescued fluffballs.
Just how many cats, you might ask? Over twenty. But it’s alright, Peter’s house is built for it. Literally. So scroll right down and check out the catopia, the Shangri-La of cat homes, except this one exists for real.
God bless this man.
Here’s Peter, the founder of the “House of Nekko”
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Nobody could’ve imagined that he’d turn his house into catopia (cat utopia), but he did
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Peter, who bought the house in 1988, has designed the house to meet all of the needs of his rescue cats
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It has platforms specially made for cats to roam around without sacrificing the high ground
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There are tons of plants and feeding spots so they feel like the kings and queens of the jungle
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Separate feeding spots ensure that they’re never fighting for their food
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It even has spiral stairways that have access to floors only cats can get to
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Even the bathroom is decked out to suit the needs of the felines
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Yes, this is a cat hamster wheel
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There are even some plant-themed rooms just so they feel like in great outdoors
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The house has lots of high spots that cats love
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Of course there are scratchers and beds, too
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“I heard you like cat houses, so we put a cat house inside a cat house, so you can live while you live”
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Overall, Peter has over 20 rescued indoor cats living with him
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The cats are well taken care of. As if all of it is not enough, they even have their own pillows and blankets
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Peter’s ZenByCat non-profit organization was found to fight a deadly disease called FIP, Feline Infectious Peritonitis
The story of Zen By Cat begins with a kitten Peter adopted in, 2016, Miss Bean.
Miss Bean was diagnosed with Feline Infectious Peritonitis (FIP). With her condition rapidly deteriorating Peter seemingly had no choice but to euthanize her.
But before the decision was final, Peter received a message from a friend of his. She said she knew a vet at UC Davis, who might be able to get Miss Bean into a Drug Trial for young kittens with FIP.
Peter decided he had to try.
Over the course of the next 31 days Peter and Miss Bean went on a roller coaster of improvements and setbacks against FIP.
Sadly, Miss Bean lost her fight on July 26, 2016.
In honor of Miss Bean and all other victims of FIP, Zen By Cat was set up as a nonprofit to raise money and awareness for FIP research. Since this, Dr. Pederson and others at UC Davis, have made great strides in their research and have successfully cured many cats from FIP, including Peter’s cat Smokey.
But there is still work to be done to bring the drug that saved Smokey and others to market.
Peter’s workstation just screams “I love cats”
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And last but not least, an obligatory stalking window
Conclusion
Sure, the world is undergoing a realignment. And the West, led by the United States, is putting up a fit, and a fight. But it will lose, and the world will calm down soon enough.
This little article is designed to show you what one person can do to make their little corner of the world a better place to live in.
Participate.
Contribute.
Make the world a better place.
And if the rest of the world howls, let them howl. You have far better things to do with your time. I believe in you.
Do you want more?
I have more posts like this in my cat section in my happiness index here…
December 2020 is almost upon us. This entire year has been shit, and I want to gallop away from it as fast as my two legs can carry me. I tire of the SHTF stuff about the United States and all the Trade stuff regarding China and international Geo-political issues. Instead, I just want to munch, chill and cozy up with some wine and a loved one. (Rent-a-loved one, a much beloved pet, or a favorite family members are all acceptable.)
I have been musing about how different things are today than they were when I was a young ‘un. And indeed, it does seem that time has completely rewrote reality. Whether it is my experiences in hopping crazy world-lines, or that the world has indeed moved on, who actually knows? I don’t. Not really, and I really don’t wanna think about it any more. One thing for certain is that it sure is different.
Here, I want to chat about some of the things that I “miss” from my past. Well, nope “miss” isn’t exactly the right word. Say, “muse about”. You know change is a part of life, and good change is wonderful and bad change isn’t all that great. Truth this. And don’t tell me that you don’t agree.
Here’s one thing everybody who was alive during the 1970s can agree on: The entire decade still feels like it only happened yesterday. Seriously, how can the ’70s be five decades in the past? Really?
It’s just not possible that the era ruled by bell-bottom jeans and 8-track cassettes was half a century ago. For those of us who lived through it—and survived that groovy yet perilous time—it will forever be a part of our souls. That and the roach burns in our jeans, the stain of bong water on our shag carpets, and the earth shoes in our closets. Let go to the max! and realize that not everyone reading this is a space cadet. Some might be out to lunch, but you know, it’s all cool beans!
So take a chill pill, and I’ll give you the skinny on what’s going on. Who knows? Maybe I’ll catch you on the flip side.
Waiting for the phone
Having a phone full of APPs where you can call anyone, at any time, and share Social media did not exist and was unheard of. It was Science Fiction. For us, our telephones were hard-wired to the house. And that was that.
Everybody in the ’70s had just one phone in their house. It was a rotary phone that stayed in some central location, with a cord that could only be stretched so far. If someone was on that phone, you just had to sit and wait for them to finish. Family members hogging the phone were the cause of many sibling battles during this era. And I would have to say that the leading culprits were the young high school females in the household.
Telephones have come a long way from the ‘60s and ‘70s. Most homes back then only had one phone for the entire family whether there were three people or twelve people. That’s right… people had to get in line to get on the line! It wasn’t uncommon for the cord to be stretched out of shape since the user could only hope for privacy by getting as far away from the other family members as possible.
Pretending to be “bionic”
No body ever does this today. But, back in the day, it was a “thing”.
If you truly are a ’70s kid, we don’t need to explain what’s involved in pretending you’re bionic. But for those who aren’t, you simply start running in slow motion, and then you make a sound with your tongue that sounds vaguely robotic. Decades after The Six Million Dollar Man and The Bionic Woman were canceled, trying to imitate Steve Austin or Jaime Sommers still makes us feel powerful.
Today, if they tried to remake this series it would be called “The 6 Trillion Dollar Person”.
Playing Simon
This game came out as I was entering University. At that time I was heavily into beer, and girls. But my younger brothers and sisters were addicted to this little piece of electronic wizardry.
So simple, and yet so addictive. When this electronic game came out in 1978, every kid had to have one. The gameplay wasn’t too involved—you just had to tap on the right series of four colored buttons to repeat a sound pattern—but we played it with the intensity and focus that kids play Fortnite today.
Gas station lines
At the time of the “Oil Crisis”, my father was commuting a three hour drive back and forth from our home to his new job. The petrol-political situation just made everything tougher. And I well remember having to ride to the gas station and collect all sorts of plastic containers of gas that I would fill up and then siphon back into my dads car.
Did you know that the thick PE containers would crack if you stored gasoline in them in sub-zero temperatures? Guess how I found out? Yeah. Let me tell youse guys icy below freezing gasoline at -20F is still liquid and freezes the cockles of your mouth.
The 1973 oil crisis (and the second oil crisis a few years thereafter) caused a nationwide panic resulting in around-the-block gas station lines that never seemed to move. Some stations even started posting color-coded flags: Green indicated they still had gas, while red alerted customers that they were out. Every car trip you took with your family in the ’70s felt like it might be your last.
Boogie life! Roller disco parties
Don’t laugh. Whether you lived in the city or in the country, there were always parties at the local roller rink. They installed flashing strobe lights, a DJ, some neon, and before you knew it, we were all boogieing on down!
All the fun of a discothèque with the extra awkwardness of having wheels on your feet. We might all remember these parties fondly, but it’s a miracle we didn’t break any bones trying to dance along to a Bee Gees song while skating at frightening speeds.
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Teenagers at the time, just like now, couldn’t get enough of their favorite artists including Led Zeppelin, Kiss, Pink Floyd, The Rolling Stones and Aerosmith just to name a few. All bets were off though at the roller rink. When the lights went down low and the sparkling disco ball shined on the wooden floor, tacky organ music was just fine!
After getting inside the roller rink, the next thing to do was to go stand in another line to get a pair of skates. Of course, to use a pair of skates that belong to the rink, you had to turn your own shoes in as place holders for the borrowed skates. You got your street shoes back only when the skates were returned. I can still see the wooden wheels and smell the disinfectant spray used on the skates between sessions.
We roller-boogied everywhere. And when we did it on the street, we wore appropriate attire, don’t you know. Such as this…
Yikes!
“Free skate” time was awesome. Everyone would go around and around that floor. It was a time to show off your cool moves. The fancy skaters whizzed, by skating backwards, leaving you in their dust. The skaters with extraordinary skills would show off their abilities in the center of the rink. They were the ones that had their own skates and didn’t use the rented ones. Often, they would stroll into the rink with their skates hanging around their necks like a piece of jewelry.
Roller Skate Rentals
Ai! Now this is something you don’t see any more…
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By the end of the evening, the borrowed roller skates were sweaty and had caused at least one blister on the skater’s feet. That was just part of the deal. A person knew when they got there that they would get that blister. Hopefully, it would heal in time for the following weekend.
After taking off the roller skates and putting your own shoes back on, it took a few minutes to get your legs used to being off of the skates. It was a weird feeling being 2 inches shorter, although that’s how tall you were when you got there. It is something everyone should experience at least once.
The 70’s really were a time like no other.
Coveting an Atari video game console
No, you may not have owned an Atari console during the ’70s, but at the very least you knew somebody who did and you made sure to do everything in your power to win their friendship. The very idea of playing video games in the comfort of our own homes without ever worrying if we had enough quarters seemed unfathomably futuristic.
Annoying (or being annoyed by) your sibling on road trips
I don’t know if this happens or not. In the days before electronic media, all that you could do when you were trapped inside an automobile is either listen to the AM radio or pester the heck of your siblings.
But that didn’t stop you from going on road trips! When a family piled into the station wagon for a long trek across the country in the ’70s, kids didn’t have the distractions they enjoy today.
There were no iPads or smartphones to keep us occupied. The only way to pass the time was to see how much we could torture our brother or sister sitting in the backseat with us. It was either annoy or be annoyed, the latter of which required constantly demanding justice from your oblivious parents trying to ignore you both in the front seat.
Waiting until Saturday for cartoons
Well, this isn’t exactly true. There were after-school cartoons that we would watch. Namely “The Flintstones”. But for a real marathon of cartoon gluttony, it’s Saturday Morning non-stop comic-thon.
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If you wanted to watch Bugs Bunny or Fred Flintstone or any of your favorite cartoon characters, you had only one chance to catch them—Saturday morning. If you missed it, you missed it, and those precious few hours of animated bliss were gone forever (or at least until the next Saturday). It taught us important lessons about delayed gratification. It just wasn’t possible back then to see every cartoon ever made with the press of a button.
The Watergate hearings
It was a simpler time. President Nixon was impeached for erasing 18.5 minutes of personal tapes. Today, the government vacuums up every item of your life in 3D, indexes it, and sells it off to the highest bidder, and then bills you for it in the form of higher taxes.
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Even if you didn’t give a hoot about politics, everyone was at least vaguely aware that something bad was happening in Washington. It was the topic of every dinner party conversation, and the evening news reported each new detail like the Watergate scandal might very well be the downfall of democracy.
Seeing the disgraced Richard Nixon leave the White House forever (with his iconic two handed peace symbol hand wave) and get into a helicopter was one of the most unforgettably surreal moments of TV viewing for just about everybody in the country in the ’70s.
Living in a world without Darth Vader
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The ’70s was the last decade when a person could wake up one day having no idea who Darth Vader was—and by dinner that night their head would be spinning with thoughts of the Dark Side and black helmets and lightsabers. The world was suddenly divided between “before Star Wars” and “after Star Wars,” and nothing would be the same for us again.
Suddenly true and real “evil” stopped being Hitler and his evil Nazi horde, and it became a large Empire. One with tentacles in everyone’s business, in every corner of the known world, and one led by indescribably evil people.
Being oblivious to “stranger danger”
In the 1970’s we were innocents. We lived life, and while there were bad people about, we didn’t have them thrown into our faces 24-7. We didn’t see missing kids on milk cartons, Amber alerts, screeching television shows and exposes of predators. We were insulated from all that.
The world was no less dangerous for kids in the 1970s than it is today—our parents just weren’t as freaked out about it. Many of us weren’t warned that every unfamiliar face might mean us harm. So we made friends with just about everyone, even random adults that we didn’t recognize.
For me, it was cranking “The immigrant song” by Led Zeppelin at 100, and playing games with my buds. While “Pee Eck” or “Joe Piney” had an record album open and was using it to separate the stems and seeds out of a five dollar bag that we had bought. Heh heh.
Memorizing the lyrics to “Rubber Ducky”
LOL. How true is this?
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There was a limited amount of quality TV for kids in the ’70s, so when something came along that resonated with us, it burned into our subconscious. Sesame Street provided many of those pivotal memories.
Rubber Ducky
Rubber Ducky, you're the one,
You make bathtime lots of fun,
Rubber Ducky, I'm awfully fond of you;
(woh woh, bee doh!)
Rubber Ducky, joy of joys,
When I squeeze you, you make noise!
Rubber Ducky, you're my very best friend, it's true!
(doo doo doo doooo, doo doo)
Every day when I
Make my to the tubby
I find a little fella who's
Cute and yellow and chubby
(rub-a-dub-a-dubby!)
Rubber Ducky, you're so fine
And I'm lucky that you're mine
Rubber ducky, I'm awfully fond of you.
(repeat chorus)
Rubber Ducky, you're so fine
And I'm lucky that you're mine
Rubber ducky, I'm awfully fond of -
Rubber ducky, I'd like a whole pond of -
Rubber ducky I'm of -
Rubber ducky I'm awfully fond of you!
(doo doo, be doo.)
Even today, long past the age when we’re regularly taking baths with toys, we can recall Ernie’s ode to his rubber duckie in its entirety.
Bell bottoms
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You cannot say “the 70’s” without mentioning the iconic “bell bottom jeans”. They were everywhere. And they were awesome! Most especially when worn with Rock-star platform boots, or earth-shoes.
A lot of completely groovy adults thought bell bottoms looked stylish in the ’70s, and they were right-on! And you know, it’ the cool kids have historically always been eager to imitate the best of adults’ instincts. So obviously, we all had these fantasticly stylish attire.
Short shorts and tube socks
Yes. And it does seem… obscene, now doesn’t it?
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Rarely in the history of fashion has a clothing style been universally accepted by both men and women. But that was the case in the ’70s with short shorts and tube socks, even though nobody looked especially good in the getup. In hindsight, tube socks that stretched up to your knees and shorts that were way too tight wasn’t the most flattering combo. But at the time, we all thought we looked cool.
Do you feel like we do?
Perhaps nothing says 1970’s as the Peter Frampton (live) ode to that period in time. It’s… well, what if all felt like. And if you don’t understand… well… you needed to be there and live that lifestyle.
The 1970’s for us was like this kind of soft fog. Like walking in a fluffy pillow everywhere, and it was really, really surreal.
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The 1970’s for us was like this kind of soft fog. Like walking in a fluffy pillow everywhere, and it was really, really surreal.
Oh, did I say that? Oh.
Well. I mean that. You know. Like I REALLY mean that. Yeah.
Oh. What was I saying?
Oh yeah…
I’d give you the original song for free here, but apparently it’s all monetized right now. So I’ll just give you the link…
Hitchhiking
True hitchhiking is just as dangerous as it ever was, but we did it anyways. Back then, we were not a fearful as people are today. We are not blasted with stories of the gruesome things that can happen to young folk on the road. And even if that were to happen, many of us would probably try to fight back with our pocket knives or fists.
No car? No problem! Just stick out your thumb and wait for a kind stranger to pull over and offer you a ride. It seems unthinkable today, but for a ’70s free spirit who didn’t have the bread to buy their own car (or was too young for a license), hitchhiking seemed like the best option when your own two feet couldn’t get you there.
Having a favorite Charlie’s Angel
We all did. Don’t be silly.
Which brings up a song from the 1970’s. I don’t know why I have this connection of the song to the TV show. I attribute it to me coming home from a long day of partying and listening to Manfred Mann, and then settling down and watching Charlie’s Angels on the tube. I guess that; that is as good as an explanation as anything else.
Oh, and here’s the gals…
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Some kids were always rooting for Jaclyn Smith, and some only had eyes for Kate Jackson. The vast majority of us, however, were smitten with Farrah Fawcett, and not just because she had the most iconic poster of the ’70s (and, arguably, of all time). Whatever your preference, they were the coolest crime-fighting trio on TV, and proof that ladies could kick as much criminal butt as the boys.
Woo Woo!
Going outside without sunscreen
Oh. Of course we knew about sunscreen. We could go ahead and use it. “Tans don’t burn with a Coppertone tan”. It’s just that we didn’t care…
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These days, most health-conscious people won’t even leave the house on a winter day without slathering their exposed skin in sun protection. But in the ’70s, you could walk around shirtless on a blazing hot summer day and nobody would think to ask if you’d applied any sunscreen.
Wait, sorry, we mean suntan lotion.
There was limited sun protection in the ’70s, just lotion to help you get some color. And when you didn’t get a tan, you got a sunburn—which nobody took all that seriously. There’s a lot we didn’t know about the long-term consequences.
Chase-lounges
This was just about the only way to hang out outside. You get a flimsy aluminum frame with the cheap nylon ribbing and plop down and pop a beer. That is what the 1970’s was all about.
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Do you want to hear a story about a date where I was tripping balls, it was a hot and humid evening, I sat in a chase lounge chair that fit like a glove. My icy cold PBR was next to me, and Traffic, Robin Trower, and Led Zeppelin played all night. After the beer was quaffed, my date and I rode on the foggy river at 3am in a small speedboat. Oh, and her brother couldn’t speak. He was deaf and dumb. So the entire event was in slow motion, sign language.
The 70’s. Youse kids have no idea.
It’s how we rolled
No helmets, knee or elbow protection, and no one recording it to post on Social Media. It’s how we rolled.
It’s how we rolled.
Then, when we were old enough to get our driver’s license, we started to terrorize the neighborhood righteously…
Wood Paneling
There isn’t anything that says 1970’s than a house with interior wood paneling. My own parents installed it in our television room around 1973. You simply cut it to size and then glue it to the walls.
The metric system
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Thanks to the Metric Conversion Act of 1975, we were all prepared to start measuring things in meters, liters, and grams rather than feet, pounds, and quarts. It’s hard to overstate how big a deal this was in the late ’70s, especially if you were a kid. In school, we were inundated with pro-metric system films, which tried to win us over with the adventures of the Metric Marvels. You couldn’t find a kid today stressed out about metric conversion, but in the ’70s, we all lived with the fear that we’d have to be metric-ready at a moment’s notice.
Drinking beer
It’s true that there were laws about drinking alcohol. But they weren’t really enforced. The min-age to drink was 18, and even 16 in some states. And in states where you could work (with parent’s permission) at 14, and drive as well, no one gave a rat’s ass about whether your were drinking alcohol or not. It wasn’t a big thing.
Not like today.
If the police caught you drinking underage, they would probably pour it out and tell you to drive home safely and go to bed.
Which happened on more than a few occasions.
Today… well, let’s be real. You’d spend the night in Jail and probably need to fork out a few thousand to a bail bondsman to get out so that you can go to work.
Some things never change
Ah. When going through some of these photos, I see things that could have very well been taken today…
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Some things never change.
Though, you might get arrested for sexual indecency and become a “Sex Offender” for the rest of your life.
Brutal playground equipment
Playgrounds in the ’70s were about as user-friendly as modern-day adult obstacle endurance races. Sure, there wasn’t as much barbed wire, but the equipment was just as unforgiving and brutal.
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Monkey bars were made of cold steel that could break bones without mercy. Everything—from the slides to the seesaws, the swings to the merry-go-round—was built to withstand military strikes, and no ’70s kid would use them without anticipating at least the occasional bloody injury.
Being terrified to go in the water
Not everyone was, but enough of my friends were that I thought that they were really too-caught-up. I strongly believed that they needed to “loosen up” a bit.
When Steven Spielberg’sJaws first hit the theaters in 1975, it’s hard to quantify exactly how big an impact it had on our collective psyche. We weren’t just scared of getting into the ocean—even lakes and ponds and wading pools seemed to disguise shark fins. We looked for sharks virtually everywhere, certain that their ferocious fangs were just waiting to bite down hard on our toes and pull us underwater.
Smallpox vaccine scars
It’s a sign of being a “Baby Boomer”.
Before most doctors stopped routinely giving smallpox vaccines in the early ’70s, every kid had the same familiar scar on their upper arm, caused by the two-pronged needle that punctured our skin with all the delicateness of a staple gun. Yeah, it was scary, but smallpox was eradicated. And the fact that we all had the same scars almost felt like a badge of honor.
Being tricked into learning by Schoolhouse Rock!
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Saturday morning is supposed to be about eating sugary cereals and vegging out in front of the TV, watching animated shows with no educational content whatsoever. But the Schoolhouse Rock! shorts tricked us, teaching us about multiplication, history, and the differences between conjunctions and interjections without our even realizing it.
Thanks to their catchy songs, we knew all about the different branches of government and what carbon footprints are without ever cracking open a book.
Having the Oscar Mayer commercial stuck in your head
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That Oscar Mayer commercial with the cute kid fishing while eating bologna played so often—and was so catchy—we could hear the familiar melody reverberating around our brains over and over and over.
Oh, I’d love to be an Oscar Meyer weiner
That is what I’d truly like to be
‘Cause if i were an Oscar Meyer weiner
Everyone would be in love with meOh, I’m glad I’m not an Oscar meyer weiner.
That is what I’d never wanna be
‘Cause if i were an Oscar Meyer weiner
there would soon be nothing left of meAnother variation is:I wish I were an Oscar Mayer Weiner
That is what I’d truly like to be
‘Cause if i were an Oscar Meyer weiner
Everyone would be in love with meOh, I’m glad I’m not an Oscar meyer weiner.
That is what I’d never wanna be
‘Cause if i were an oscar meyer weiner
Everyone would take a bite of me.
The only thing worse was when it got replaced by that “I’d like to teach the world to sing” Coca-Cola commercial! (We’re sorry.)
School assignments printed on ditto machines
And oh they smelled so good!
In 1960s and '70s-era classrooms, it was an olfactory treat whenever the teacher passed out fresh-off-the-machine purple print “ditto” sheets to the class. Virtually every student immediately held the page to his face and inhaled deeply.
-11 Smells That Are Slowly Disappearing | Mental Floss
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When I was in elementary school in the 1960s and into the early 1970s, teachers gave homework and classroom assignments, quizzes and tests on Ditto worksheets. We wrote on them so often that my classmates and I became intimately familiar with the aniline purple color of the Ditto—as well as the mesmerizing smell that emanated from the freshly printed sheets.
Making Dittos was a two-step process. The first step was to prepare the master, a two-ply form that had an easy-to-write-on paper sheet on top and a wax-coated sheet on the bottom. Our teachers would either hand write or typewrite the schoolwork onto one of these typically letter-size Ditto master forms. The pressure of the pen or the typewriter would transfer wax from the bottom sheet onto the back of the top sheet.
The second step—after discarding what was left of the bottom sheet—was to mount the master, bottom side up, onto the Ditto duplicating drum. The wrong-reading wax image contained the “ink” that was progressively broken down by the chemical spread across the drum as it was rotated—often by cranking the cylinder manually—and came into contact with the paper. Several dozen Ditto sheets could be easily produced within minutes.
Any worksheet or homework assignment passed out to students in a ’70s classroom was likely created using either a ditto or mimeograph machine. Who could forget the way they left purple ink on your fingers, or that unmistakable odor?
Using Silly Putty to preserve newspaper comics
We felt like geniuses for discovering that Silly Putty could be rolled over the comic section in a newspaper and perfectly reproduce our favorite Garfield strip. Today, most newspapers use non-transferable ink, so any kids wanting to try this experiment are out of luck. Sigh.
Slide Rules
Call me a nerd, but I loved my slide-rule. Unlike my fellow classmates, who embraced their new fangled calculators that were just coming out, I used mine for all sorts of engineering and science subjects.
There is even an application for a slide rule for your Windows Computer. You can go ahead and get it HERE. Or better yet, check out these links…
Not at all useful, but a joy to behold and quite beautiful in it’s own way.
Pencil cases with attached slide rulers and sharpeners
It was an essential school supply back in the ’70s, the epitome of high-tech pencil gadgetry. Pulling one of these out of your backpack meant you were serious about learning—or at least looking like the coolest student in your class. Pencil cases have become as extinct as… well, pencils. But the plastic pencil case in 1975 was the iPhone of its era.
Never consuming Pop Rocks and soda at the same time
Every ’70s kid had heard that terrible rumor about Mikey, the picky eater in the Life cereal commercial. Apparently, despite the warnings of his friends, he had consumed the deadly combo of Coca-Cola and Pop Rocks, and the carbon dioxide had caused his stomach to inflate to a lethal degree. What happened next? Well, his stomach exploded, of course, and poor Mikey died on the spot! The rumors were, of course, completely false. But that didn’t stop us from believing them. In a world without Internet, we had no choice but to trust what the smartest kid on the playground was telling us.
Moving the TV antenna for better reception
We called them “rabbit ears”.
And we used them is “complete” systems like this…
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TV reception in the ’70s was unreliable at best. If the picture was distorted with zig-zag lines—or, worse, the dreaded “snow,” where everything was fuzzy—the only way to fix the problem was to adjust the antenna, otherwise known as “rabbit ears.”
This involved twisting and turning until slowly, so slowly, you captured a better signal and the picture started to come into focus. But even then, just removing your hands might cause the picture to disappear yet again. It was a long and arduous process to get the kind of visual consistency that TV audiences today take for granted.
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But, on the other hand, television was FREE.
You didn’t need to subscribe to cable, to a television satellite service, or some kind of streaming internet service. And it is still free, too. It’s just one of those way-under-reported elements of life that exists today in a world full of gigantic multimillionaires ruling over a land where everything has a price tag.
...don't knock tv antennas. use them and you'll still get plenty of channels and save lots of money and not be a slave to the cable company. shame on saying it's something you're glad to get rid of
-x60hz11RonaldFelder
Typewriters
Before Microsoft Word were Word Processors, and before them were typewriters.
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Decades before email or texting existed, if you were writing to a friend or family member, you either did it by hand—a long and excruciating process, especially if you had a lot to say—or you used a typewriter. The unmistakable metallic clang of typewriter keys pounding on paper is something that few of us who lived through the ’70s will ever forget.
Secondhand smoke everywhere
And the freedom was glorious.
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Smoking wasn’t just acceptable in the ’70s—it was ubiquitous. In offices, restaurants, airplanes, homes, and most public buildings, everybody was puffing away on their cigarettes without a care in the world. No busybody is going to tell you to go outside in the rain to smoke near the gutter or trashcan. No one even cared.
People smoked everywhere. Restaurants, parks, in taxi’s, on the train,at work and on airplanes.
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People smoked. It was as natural as drinking Pepsi and eating a hamburger. The prices for cigarettes were very cheap, and no one had the nerve to tell you what to do with your own body. It was unheard of. And if you did, the response probably would be “Hey Man! What’s your fucking problem?”
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And those wooded crate that her books were in, those are crates for eggs. I used them for my record album collection. In those days they were real wood. Flimsy things, but they did the job all rightly.
Headsets for the Stereo
Well, we have headsets today, but they are used differently. Back in the 1970’s if you had a stereo, you also probably had a pair of headsets. And while your parents might have bought them for you so that they could have some peace and quiet, the chances are that you probably used them while the stereo was blasting through the speakers. You know, for the “full effect”.
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This is what we pretty much did. Here’s a scene from the iconic movie “Dazed and Confused”.
Debating what “American Pie” was all about
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What was going on in Don McLean’s 1971 hit? Nobody knew for sure, but plenty of kids had a lot of theories about who the jester was and why he was stealing the king’s thorny crown, and if “Jack” was supposed to be Mick Jagger or Bob Dylan or somebody else entirely. Was the whole song really about Buddy Holly dying in a plane crash and McLean feeling sad about it? In those pre-internet days, your guess was as good as anybody else’s.
Macramé home décor
Macramé home décor was especially popular in the ‘70s. A lot of different home decorations were macramé including curtains and plant hangers, but nothing was more popular than the macramé owl.
The groovy pop-culture era is a phenomenon that stands out among many others. Sometimes it seems like it was a million years ago and sometimes it seems like just yesterday. Check out this “far out”, very cool kitchen…
Shaking “instant” Polaroid photos to help them develop faster
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As Outkast reminded the world with their 2003 hit “Hey Ya!,” the ’70s taught us how to “shake it like a Polaroid picture.” Or at least, that’s what we all believed. The moment a new picture slid out of a Polaroid instant camera, we pinched it between two fingers and shook it vigorously, as if air drying was the only way to get the clearest image. It wasn’t until 2004 when we finally learned it was all bogus. As Polaroid helpfully explained, “shaking or waving has no effect.”
Bicycle helmets not being required
It’s pretty silly that a government that doesn’t give a rat’s ass about the people, would require them to do all sorts of things “for their safety”. But that’s America for you.
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If you wore a helmet while riding a bike during the ’70s, it meant either that you were recovering from a serious cranial injury or you were terrified of even the most minor of accidents. We just weren’t as safety-conscious back then.
In those days, freedom actually meant something. it wasn’t confused with “safety” or “cleanness”, like it is today.
Clackers
Everyone had these.
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So simple and yet so entertaining. Consisting of two heavy acrylic balls attached to a string, you basically knocked the two balls together as fast as you could… and that was it. Somehow it kept us entertained for hours, or at least until some kids started overdoing it with the clacker enthusiasm and the balls shattered and caused shrapnel-related injuries. Clackers were deemed weapons of mass destruction and officially pulled from stores.
Me. Well, I put them in an oven and baked them. LOL.
Aluminum can tabs
The 1960’s was known as the time where you needed a triangular “can opener” to open up your favorite can of beer. You would do so with the heavy gauge steel can, and make two triangular indentations. One large one to drink from, and one small one for the air to get in.
Then, in the 1970’s the pull-tab was invented, and life was forever changed.
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Opening a soda in the ’70s required pulling a ring that tore open a small wedge shape on the top of an aluminum can. Then the ring would be thrown away, usually on the ground where somebody would invariably step on it and hurt themselves. Injuries from those metallic tabs became a nationwide epidemic.
One 1976 New York Times report remarked that a large percentage of beach injuries “were due to cuts inflicted by discarded pop tabs,” Slate noted. Getting a tetanus shot was the only way to survive in a world littered with soda can tabs.
Fixing mistakes with Wite-Out
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The “delete” button of the ’70s came in a little jar full of white liquid, which could be painted across anything in a letter or school assignment that we wanted to make disappear. It wasn’t quite as magical as it sounds, since you had to wait for what felt like forever for Wite-Out to dry, and sometimes you had to blow on the paper, which just made you feel ridiculous. By the time it was ready to put back in the typewriter, you’d have completely lost your train of thought.
Sea-Monkeys
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Those ads in the back of comic books were too irresistible for most kids. Why would we not want to have our own anthropomorphic sea creatures, living in a tank and looking reverently out at our bedrooms like we were gods?
But when the Sea Monkeys arrived, we learned the hard lesson that you shouldn’t always believe advertising.
The creatures didn’t look anything like tiny humans at all, because they were actually a type of brine shrimp, the most boring aquarium pet a kid could ever ask for.
Station wagons with wood trim
Ohhhh baby!
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Why so many people were drawn to cars that looked as if they were made at least partly out of wood is anybody’s guess. Maybe they were responding to some residual hippie influence, and they couldn’t resist a car that was seemingly constructed from biodegradable materials harvested in pesticide-free gardens. It was all bunk, of course—the wood texture, more often than not, was just vinyl siding—but especially in the ’70s, appearance was more important than reality.
Thing Maker
Parents thought it was perfectly safe to let kids make their own artsy crafts by putting plastic in the oven. Totally cool. We were able to mix chemicals, and bake them in ovens and crate all sorts of wondrous dangers. Thingmaker came with it’s own oven. It was glorious!
It introduced me to molds, plastic injection molding and hardware design.
The concept of the Thingmaker was first introduced in 1963, as an extension of Mattel’s “Vac-U-Maker” line. Thingmaker Creepy Crawlers by Mattel was by far my absolute favorite toy as a kid and I got my first one in 1968.
I spent hours in my room playing with this and spilling plastic goop on my carpet. I loved overfilling the metal molds just slightly so I could peel off the excess. I burned myself more than a few times and have the scars to show. I also had Creeple People and Incredible Edibles, but neither of these was as cool as the original Thingmaker. I cannot believe I played with this toy totally unsupervised starting at the age of 10!
There have been several revivals of the Thingmaker – the first in 1978 was called the Thingmaker II and employed safer technology. This toy used a totally different type of goop and plastic molds, into which the heated Plastigoop was poured.
The reformulated Plastigoop did not work well, the bugs and insects were shoddy, and the process was painfully slow, so it went kaput fairly quickly. In 1992, ToyMax reintroduced the Thingmaker with much stricter safety regulations. This new version of the Creepy Crawlers set once again used metal molds and a goop similar to the original.
ToyMax went out of business around 2002, and yet another company, Jakks Pacific started producing a similar toy starting in 2006.
The Vac-u-Form, also called Vac-u-Former, was a toy manufactured by Mattel in the 1960s. Using an industrial process called vacuum forming, a rectangular piece of plastic was clamped in a holder and heated over a metal plate. After the plastic softened, the holder was moved to the other side, over a mold of the object to be formed. Pressing a handle on the side of the unit created a vacuum, which caused the plastic to be sucked down over the mold and form a shape. When the plastic cooled it solidified, creating a little model of the item, such as a car, boat, or tiny log cabin
-Consumer Grouch
The Pacer
My first car after I wrecked my GTO. Sigh! I loved that car.
But the Pacer, or the Pacer-rooo as we liked to call it was perfect for the era. It was like riding in this big quiet glass bubble, and we would listen to tunes and watch the world go by…
…slowly. Very slowly.
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Drinking tons of Tang
My personal formula was 50% of the glass filled with Tang powder, and the remaining part water.
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The makers of Tang drove home the idea that their instant beverage, which tasted vaguely of oranges, was the nutrition of choice for astronauts everywhere. And that was enough for us to believe that just drinking Tang for breakfast put you in the same intellectual company as the brave astronauts of NASA. Even though Buzz Aldrin, the second man on the moon, once famously said he was not a fan of Tang, that wasn’t the popular opinion in the ’70s.
Relating to one of the Brady Bunch kids
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Whether it was ambitious ladykiller Greg or awkward middle child Jan or young dreamer Bobby, there was somebody among The Brady Bunch that resonated with just about every ’70s kid. The oversized family that was too perfect to exist in the real world somehow still managed to reflect our individual quirks and idiosyncrasies.
Metal lunch boxes
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A plastic lunch box? That would’ve seemed inconceivable to a ’70s kid, who proudly carried around a lunch box sturdy enough to protect bologna sandwiches from an air strike. The characters featured on the front of these lunch boxes, whether Evel Knievel or Strawberry Shortcake, said a lot about our personalities.
48 Hassocks
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These round ottoman seats became weirdly popular during the ’70s, and always in the most outrageous colors—like avocado green or neon orange. They were meant as foot stools but kids knew they were perfect for stretching out, or curling up on for cat naps, or even spreading out on stomach-first and pretending we were flying like Superman. Ah, those were the days.
Taping songs off the radio
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The music piracy of its day! When you had a new favorite song but there wasn’t enough in your piggy bank to buy the album or 45 rpm single, you would sit next to the radio with your portable cassette recorder and wait… and wait… and wait… until finally that song you loved so much started playing, and you immediately pressed down on the record button, capturing those beautiful sounds for free.
A chopper bike with a banana seat
Oh baby, I had a burnt orange bike. Tall handle-bars. White banana seat. Red reflectors, and drag-strip rear tire.
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You didn’t even have to pop a wheelie when you owned a chopper bike. All you had to do was sit there, tapping your fingers on the handlebars like you were revving a throttle, and you looked like Evel Knievel getting ready to jump over a canyon.
Stretch Armstrong
I didn’t have this, but my brother did, and the tortures that he put this poor toy through were the stuff of legends.
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This elastic hero was like a stress ball for prepubescents. Just how much torture could Armstrong endure at your hands? Plenty of kids were willing to find out, pulling his limbs like they were trying to get a confession. The secret to Stretch’s durability—the goo inside his body that made him so elastic—was nothing but plain ol’ corn syrup.
Frisbee
Yeah. You can go on all the retro 1970s websites on the internet, and not one single one will mention the iconic Frisbee. This was the most prolific and versatile tools in used during the 1970’s.
Not only could you toss it about, but you could clean out your bag of weed with it. It was portable, convenient, light weight, and came in a wide selection of colors and designs. I well remember my glow in the dark scooby-doo Frisbee. What fun was that!
Shag Carpeting Throughout Your House
This was so 70’s.
I used the left over pieces to carpet my GTO, and then later, my Pacer, and even later than that, my Dodge Tradesman 400.
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Covering your floors wasn’t as simple as popping into Pottery Barn and picking up a rug in the 1970s. Your house—apart from the patterned linoleum in your kitchen—was covered in shag carpeting in a variety of earthy tones, from moss to pumpkin to, of course, leopard.
Not all homes had carpet during the groovy era. Some still preferred their hardwood floors, but you can be sure that any respectable modern and hip household that did have carpet had shag carpet. Some shag carpet was so shaggy that you could lose the family hamster in it for days.
Having Every Dish Served Out of Patterned Pyrex
Pyrex. An awesome invention and completely under appreciated.
Fancy china has its place, but as a ’70s kid, you know that the true height of sophistication is enjoying your mom’s tuna noodle casserole straight from the Pilgrim-patterned Pyrex it was baked in.
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But truthfully, you haven’t lived until you made a “swamp” pizza (Chicago style deep dish pizza) from a Pyrex dish.
Basement Den
Up until the late ‘60s/early ‘70s, basements were a place for the hot water heater, furnace/boiler, and washing machine. Basements were also a great storage area. Basements were stacked with boxes full of things that wouldn’t ever be used again but the owner couldn’t live without!
During the groovy era, “finishing” basements for living space became a popular craze. It wasn’t called a finished basement… it was called a club room; complete with the old TV set and fake wood paneling. It was a classic look.
Many a night would be spent quaffing beers, playing cards, darts, and chess while listening to Neil Young. I’ll tell you what.
Water bed
This type of bed is pretty cool, and not at all what one would think. If you go on the internet, you might find someone who has never slept on one of these beds writing derogatory statements about them. (It’s a very common thing on the internet these days… you write about what you know nothing about for a hand full of change.)
These beds are really super comfortable. They are heated, and it is like sleeping inside the soft bosom of a giant woman. The sides envelope around you and you feel completely embraced.
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All jokes aside, this is a super comfortable way to sleep. When I slept on my water bed, I was usually out within two minutes.
Now, for some important notes. Firstly, if the power goes off, in the dead of winter, you can rest assured that you will be sleeping on top of an icy pile of slush. And secondly, you need to constantly add anti-bacteria chemicals. Otherwise algae will grow and your water bed would spring about a zillion super tiny, impossible to locate, leaks.
Lava Lamps
Technically the oddly hypnotic lava lamp was made popular in the 60s, but it continued on strong through almost the end of the 1970s. I actually had two of them, and they really added a nice effect in my bed room.
TV Dinners
We had these little metal folding tables, and a place where we wold put them behind the door. When we were too busy to eat a “real” meal, out came the TV dinners, and we would eat in front of the television learning about the world on the “news”.
Do you want more?
I have more posts that are similar to this in my Life and Happiness Index here…
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Not knocking “freedom”, mind you. I think it’s very important. It’s just that what passes for “freedom” in the “Land of the Free” isn’t freedom at all. Freedom is the ability to own property. And… the property is inviolate. Meaning no one can tax it, regulate it, or put retainers on it in any way. And if you look at things that way, then you see that Americans have just about ZERO freedoms.
But you heard me freak out about this before, right?
A true and real measure of "freedom" is the cumulative amount of worth of everything that you own THAT IS NOT taxed, regulated, associated with fees, or subject to seizure.
Under this definition the actual amount of “freedom” that most Americans have is ZERO. Everything in the United States is both regulated, and taxed (not to mention subject to seizure). That goes from your home (even after you pay off your mortgage, you still need to pay taxes on it), to your car (duh!), to every item you purchase with state and federal taxes associated with it.
Face it, Americans have zero freedom.
And no screeching at the screen is going to change that fact. Don’t yell at me. Don’t blame me. Don’t get all “hot and bothered” and shoot up an innocent school full of kids.
I am just pointing out the obvious.
Now, here we are going to watch videos of the rest of the world. A place where if you buy a house it is yours. You own it. You don’t pay taxes on it, or deal with regulations on it in any way. When you buy some cigarettes there are no taxes on it, or when you drive a car you don’t need to have it inspected or “approved” for road use.
Freedom. You either have it or you don’t.
Freedom can be measured; it is the cumulative monetary value of everything you own that is NOT subject to tax, regulation, fees, or seizure by any government.
Go ahead. Add it all up. See how free you are.
So watch these videos and see what the rest of the world looks like without that “great American freedom”. We are going to look at the “communist” China. You know, where if you own a house you NEVER need to pay any taxes, property, or school on it. Where you NEVER have to have it inspected or regulated by the central headquarters, and where you NEVER need to “show your papers” to the police when you are walking down the street.
Freedom is the ability to own things… real ownership… free of regulation… free of taxation… free of fees and reporting of any kind at any level.
Feel special yet?
And we are going to Segway from a discussion on freedom, and why it is important, to Rufus behaviors...
And then to sentience...
And then back to why "freedom" matters.
Video 1 – Having a home recording studio
So what’s so great about having a home recording studio? These have been common in the United States since the dawn of radio. What’s the big deal?
Well…
You are right.
These things have been in the United States for years. What began in the basements and garages of the 1950’s and 1960’s, migrated to churches in the 1970’s to keep out of the laws of intense regulation and scrutiny. Then after a brief period of relaxation under the Reagan administration, they all came back and most recording studios in the United States today are highly regulated, “for-profit” affairs.
The days of home recording studios in the United States are pretty much over.
Not so in the rest of the world.
Here we have a video of a home recording studio in China.
It’s not taxed. It’s not regulated. It’s not subject to workplace rules and IRS reporting procedures. It’s not subject to inspection by the various local and state and federal boards. It’s a private, personal space that is used for whatever a person wants it to be used as and the government (in this case Chinese) has absolutely ZERO say on how it is managed.
There are no lit up “exit signs”. You are permitted to smoke inside if you want and there are no fire extinguishers or “people capacity” stickers on the walls. The height of the recording desk is not specified. Nor is the temperature of the room, the decorations or sound isolation foam. It’s all up to the owner to determine. Not the government.
A life where you can own a home recording studio, free of taxation, regulation, fees or rules is far freer than one where everything you do is under the scrutiny of some kind of government organization.
Freedom. You either have it, or you don’t.
There are no grey areas in this issue.
But, but, but you NEED regulation to have a modern functioning society…
That’s the narrative isn’t it?
"Well, China is a developing country. It is a third-world shit-hole. It is where people eat dogs, and cats. Get coronavirus at filthy "wet-markets" and evil mean people riding bicycles try to pick your pocket every chance they get. It's no secret that they all yearn to move to America and be free!"
This narrative, that you NEED regulation to have freedom is an oxymoron. It is one of those never ending lies that are repeated over, and over, and over again, and the stupid ignorant people believe it. They don’t pause and think about what they are saying…
That you NEED to have all this regulation because that is how a modern society works.
"Regulation is a necessary evil. It is how America became great. It is because of regulation that we have trains, bridges, skyscrapers, and the post Office. Take away regulation and America would be back to the stone age."
Wrong!
Regulation serves one thing, and one thing only. Standardization of utility. That’s it.
The idea is that if you make everything one way, and that way is standard then the number of accidents and mishaps will decrease because you have centralized the rules and made a unified standard that everyone by abide to.
Like the sizes of steps on a stairway.
Like the minimum width in a doorway.
Like the minimum number of pages of paper in a pad of paper.
This next video is Nanshan. It’s a suburb of Shenzhen, China. This is the escalator up from the subway below. Now, Shenzhen is a “new” city. Just thirty years ago it was just a sleepy fishing village with some dirt roads and some fishing boats.
But China decided to take a “spin” with this new concept that Ronald Reagan was promoting (at the time) called “Reaganomics”. And Mr. Deng implemented capitalism to communist China.
China constructed a “economic bubble” and implemented every single element of Reaganomics into that bubble. From low taxes, to low to absent regulation, to every other aspect of it. China went full-speed ahead on this “experiment”.
And while President Bush put an end to the American experiment with Reaganomics, China plowed forward…
Shenzhen is the result…
Shenzhen is a pretty awesome place. Not because of Reaganomics so much as the freedom from government regulation.
Freedom. You either have it or you don’t.
Freedom has nothing to do about the economy
There is this unspoken myth in the United States that America is “exceptional” because of it’s “freedoms” and it’s “democracy”. And that the tremendous advantage that the American economy has globally, is proof of this.
That is false.
Let it be absolutely clear that the economy of a nation has absolutely nothing to do with whether you are free or not.
There are people in the poorest sections of Africa and South America that are far freer than Americans are.
Remember, boys and girls, a measure of how free you are is the cash value of the possessions that you have that is not taxed, regulated or has associated fees or can be seized from you.
So…
Here we have some poor kids in the heart of Africa. Their poor clothes had no fees, taxes or regulations when they bought them. Their homes are untaxed and unregulated. And yet, and yet, they are happy and living life.
Of course, I do get this. I do understand.
For many, many years Americans have been taught that being great is the accumulation of wealth, and America is thus great because it is a leading economic power.
But, people, the accumulation of things and paper scripts is not success. It is not happiness. It is not joyous abandon. It is not freedom.
If there is one thing that I have learned over my many, many years is that real freedom has a calming effect on your soul. You stop caring about others, worries about things, or getting all entangled and wrapped up in all sorts of drama.
There are so many things that Americans think are true that are not…
While I am discussing truths and reality here, let it be absolutely understood that we all (all over the world) have been fed a steady diet of lies and untruths and distortions all our lives.
It goes back thousands of years.
But we can point our fingers to just about every aspect of science and society.
When the emergence of science came about in Europe, suddenly all stories and tales of non-physical creatures became myths.
When money lenders (banks) can manufacture money though the invention of interest… the net trade off was a decrease in value of everything.
When the lie of “democracy” equals “freedom”…
Or that a strong national economy is a sign that God favors that nation.
Or that being smart, intelligent or getting good grade somehow equates to wealth.
Or that being popular is a desirable trait that with make a person happier.
Lies, lies, and more lies.
People(!) for the human society to survive this great period of change, we will need to readjust our perceptions on what is real and what isn’t,
In truth, much of what has been force fed (over the last 50 years) through the American media are half-truths and lies. They are designed to convert individual non-established sentience’s to follow a service-for-self or a service-for-another sentience. When in reality, pure and real freedom comes with the third sentience; service-to-others.
Be the Rufus.
Be the Rufus
Ah. But what does being a “Rufus” has to do with anything?
How is it connected to wealth? To fame” To “freedom”? To “democracy”? To science, to society…?
We have gotten so wrapped up on the trivial…
Society is the bedrock of our personal experiences. It is from personal experiences that our sentience manifests and fills in. And thus it is who we are and why we do things. It is our roles in society. It fills out and establishes our place… our experiences and whether or not our lives are fulfilling.
So, I urge everyone to stop listening to the bullshit narratives.
Be the Rufus.
Not only will you obtain better and more enjoyable experiences, but your soul growth and quanta entanglements will end up being of a far higher quality.
It all goes to this.
Taxes and regulations are said to be necessary for a “modern” well-functioning society. That is a lie. They are not. That is what the service-to-self people want you to believe.
Migrate towards a service-to-others sentience. Be helpful and make your life a worthwhile one.
Be the Rufus.
Conclusion
The ONLY way that the oligarchy PTB that continue to maintain their level of absolute control is to keep individuals separate. The most tyrannical governments in the world are those that praise the individual and not the group. It is when you praise the efforts of a singular lone person, that everyone else starts to believe that the entire universe is based upon the idea of “every man for himself”.
That is a service-for-self mentality.
But that is not how it works.
Service-for-others sentience is always unhappy in places where freedom is suppressed. And even though they are told over and over again 24-7 that they actually are "free" they know, in their bones, that this is not the case.
We are consciousness. And we inhabit a physical body that migrates though a long stream of world-lines to obtain experiences. These experiences are what causes our quanta to clump together and form associations.
We can be selfish. We can “master” our physical environment though greed, power and selfish exploits. And all of these experiences will also contribute to the creation of the soul consciousness.
But it is a dead-end. It is a trap.
Why?
Because humans ARE NOT singular “lone wolf” creatures. We are social animals. And thus the best sentience for us is one that the physical elements of our being match up with the spiritual elements of our being.
That is service-for-others sentience.
As social animals, we occupy a social role. We contribute to society. We help others. We make the world a better place. We do so in small ways, but we do so…
The great sorting is upon us. How long this will last is unknown. It might last for a century in total. Though it might be over in as short as ten years. Most certainty there will be all sorts of elements of change here and there in different geographical areas over time.
You cannot control the world, but you can control your little part of it.
Be the Rufus.
Why does it matter?
A service-for-self person will do their intention affirmations over and over again, and still have trouble manifesting their desires. No matter what they get, they will still want more. Bigger, better, more and more. They will never be satisfied. So that when one reality manifestation occurs it is what makes them happy.
That is because their WANTS will always be a “want”.
A service-for-others person will find that their prayer affirmation intention campaigns will have a strong degree of permanency with it. When it happens, and their dreams manifest, they will be free to concentrate on other elements of their intention prayers / desires.
You’ll not find any big banners or popups here talking about cookies and privacy notices. There are no ads on this site (aside from the hosting ads – a necessary evil). Functionally and fundamentally, I just don’t make money off of this blog. It is NOT monetized. Finally, I don’t track you because I just don’t care to.
Please kindly help me out in this effort. There is a lot of effort that goes into this disclosure. I could use all the financial support that anyone could provide. Thank you very much.
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This story was copyrighted in 1951 by Ray Bradbury, and presented here under Article 22 of China’s Copyright Law. Ray Bradbury is one of my personal heroes and his writings greatly influenced me in ways that I am only just now beginning to understand.
Introduction
For years I had amassed a well worn, and dusty collection of Ray Bradbury paperbacks that I would pick up and read for pleasure and inspiration. Later, when I left the United States, and moved to China, I had to leave my treasured books behind. Sigh.
It is very difficult to come across Ray Bradbury books in China. When ever I find one, I certainly snatch it up. Cost is no object when it comes to these masterpieces. At one time, I must have had five books containing this story.
Credit to the wonderful people at Mother Earth News for posting it where a smuck like myself can read it within China. And, of course, credit to the great master; Ray Bradbury for providing this work of art for our inspiration and pleasure.
Full Text
Here is the full text of the masterpiece. I will let the reader read it and enjoy it.
The Pedestrian
To enter out into that silence that was the city at eight o’clock of a misty evening in November, to put your feet upon that buckling concrete walk, to step over grassy seams and make your way, hands in pockets, through the silences, that was what Mr. Leonard Mead most dearly loved to do.
He would stand upon the corner of an intersection and peer down long moonlit avenues of sidewalk in four directions, deciding which way to go, but it really made no difference; he was alone in this world of A.D. 2053, or as good as alone, and with a final decision made, a path selected, he would stride off, sending patterns of frosty air before him like the smoke of a cigar.
Sometimes he would walk for hours and miles and return only at midnight to his house. And on his way he would see the cottages and homes with their dark windows, and it was not unequal to walking through a graveyard where only the faintest glimmers of firefly light appeared in flickers behind the windows.
Sudden gray phantoms seemed to manifest upon inner room walls where a curtain was still undrawn against the night, or there were whisperings and murmurs where a window in a tomblike building was still open.
Mr. Leonard Mead would pause, cock his head, listen, look, and march on, his feet making no noise on the lumpy walk.
For long ago he had wisely changed to sneakers when strolling at night, because the dogs in intermittent squads would parallel his journey with barkings if he wore hard heels, and lights might click on and faces appear and an entire street be startled by the passing of a lone figure, himself, in the early November evening.
On this particular evening he began his journey in a westerly direction, toward the hidden sea.
There was a good crystal frost in the air; it cut the nose and made the lungs blaze like a Christmas tree inside; you could feel the cold light going on and off, all the branches filled with invisible snow.
He listened to the faint push of his soft shoes through autumn leaves with satisfaction, and whistled a cold quiet whistle between his teeth, occasionally picking up a leaf as he passed, examining its skeletal pattern in the infrequent lamplights as he went on, smelling its rusty smell.
“Hello, in there,” he whispered to every house on every side as he moved. “What’s up tonight on Channel 4, Channel 7, Channel 9? Where are the cowboys rushing, and do I see the United States Cavalry over the next hill to the rescue?”
The street was silent and long and empty, with only his shadow moving like the shadow of a hawk in midcountry.
If he closed his eyes and stood very still, frozen, he could imagine himself upon the center of a plain, a wintry, windless Arizona desert with no house in a thousand miles, and only dry river beds, the streets, for company.
“What is it now?” he asked the houses, noticing his wrist watch.
“Eight-thirty P.M.? Time for a dozen assorted murders? A quiz? A revue? A comedian falling off the stage?”
Was that a murmur of laughter from within a moon-white house? He hesitated, but went on when nothing more happened.
He stumbled over a particularly uneven section of sidewalk.
The cement was vanishing under flowers and grass.
In ten years of walking by night or day, for thousands of miles, he had never met another person walking, not once in all that time.
He came to a cloverleaf intersection which stood silent where two main highways crossed the town.
During the day it was a thunderous surge of cars, the gas stations open, a great insect rustling and a ceaseless jockeying for position as the scarabbeetles, a faint incense puttering from their exhausts, skimmed homeward to the far directions.
But now these highways, too, were like streams in a dry season, all stone and bed and moon radiance.
He turned back on a side street, circling around toward his home.
He was within a block of his destination when the lone car turned a corner quite suddenly and flashed a fierce white cone of light upon him.
He stood entranced, not unlike a night moth, stunned by the illumination, and then drawn toward it.
A metallic voice called to him: “Stand still. Stay where you are! Don’t move!” He halted. “Put up your hands!”
“But-” he said.
“Your hands up! Or we’ll Shoot!”
The police, of course, but what a rare, incredible thing; in a city of three million, there was only one police car left, wasn’t that correct?
Ever since a year ago, 2052, the election year, the force had been cut down from three cars to one.
Crime was ebbing; there was no need now for the police, save for this one lone car wandering and wandering the empty streets.
“Your name?” said the police car in a metallic whisper.
He couldn’t see the men in it for the bright light in his eyes.
“Leonard Mead,” he said.
“Speak up!”
“Leonard Mead!”
“Business or profession?”
“I guess you’d call me a writer.”
“No profession,” said the police car, as if talking to itself.
The light held him fixed, like a museum specimen, needle thrust through chest.
“You might say that, ” said Mr. Mead.
He hadn’t written in years. Magazines and books didn’t sell any more.
Everything went on in the tomblike houses at night now, he thought, continuing his fancy.
The tombs, ill-lit by television light, where the people sat like the dead, the gray or multicolored lights touching their faces, but never really touching them.
“No profession,” said the phonograph voice, hissing. “What are you doing out?”
“Walking,” said Leonard Mead.
“Walking!”
“Just walking,” he said simply, but his face felt cold.
“Walking, just walking, walking?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Walking where? For what?”
“Walking for air. Walking to see.”
“Your address!”
“Eleven South Saint James Street.”
“And there is air in your house, you have an air conditioner, Mr. Mead?”
“Yes.”
“And you have a viewing screen in your house to see with?”
“No.”
“No?” There was a crackling quiet that in itself was an accusation.
“Are you married, Mr. Mead?”
“No.”
“Not married,” said the police voice behind the fiery beam, The moon was high and clear among the stars and the houses were gray and silent.
“Nobody wanted me,” said Leonard Mead with a smile.
“Don’t speak unless you’re spoken to!”
Leonard Mead waited in the cold night.
“Just walking, Mr. Mead?”
“Yes.”
“But you haven’t explained for what purpose.”
“I explained; for air, and to see, and just to walk.”
“Have you done this often?”
“Every night for years.”
The police car sat in the center of the street with its radio throat faintly humming.
“Well, Mr. Mead,” it said.
“Is that all?” he asked politely.
“Yes,” said the voice. “Here.” There was a sigh, a pop. The back door of the police car sprang wide. “Get in.”
“Wait a minute, I haven’t done anything!”
“Get in.”
“I protest!”
“Mr. Mead.”
He walked like a man suddenly drunk. As he passed the front window of the car he looked in. As he had expected, there was no one in the front seat, no one in the car at all.
“Get in.”
He put his hand to the door and peered into the back seat, which was a little cell, a little black jail with bars. It smelled of riveted steel. It smelled of harsh antiseptic; it smelled too clean and hard and metallic. There was nothing soft there.
“Now if you had a wife to give you an alibi,” said the iron voice.
“But-“
“Where are you taking me?”
The car hesitated, or rather gave a faint whirring click, as if information, somewhere, was dropping card by punch-slotted card under electric eyes. “To the Psychiatric Center for Research on Regressive Tendencies.”
He got in. The door shut with a soft thud.
The police car rolled through the night avenues, flashing its dim lights ahead. They passed one house on one street a moment later, one house in an entire city of houses that were dark, but this one particular house had all of its electric lights brightly lit, every window a loud yellow illumination, square and warm in the cool darkness.
“That’s my house,” said Leonard Mead.
No one answered him.
The car moved down the empty river-bed streets and off away, leaving the empty streets with the empty side-walks, and no sound and no motion all the rest of the chill November night.
Posts Regarding Life and Contentment
Here are some other similar posts on this venue. If you enjoyed this post, you might like these posts as well. These posts tend to discuss growing up in America. Often, I like to compare my life in America with the society within communist China. As there are some really stark differences between the two.
Posts about the Changes in America
America is going through a period of change. Change is good… that is, after it occurs. Often however, there are large periods of discomfort as the period of adjustment takes place. Here are some posts that discuss this issue.
More Posts about Life
I have broken apart some other posts. They can best be classified about ones actions as they contribute to happiness and life. They are a little different, in subtle ways.
Stories that Inspired Me
Here are reprints in full text of stories that inspired me, but that are nearly impossible to find in China. I place them here as sort of a personal library that I can use for inspiration. The reader is welcome to come and enjoy a read or two as well.
Articles & Links
You’ll not find any big banners or popups here talking about cookies and privacy notices. There are no ads on this site (aside from the hosting ads – a necessary evil). Functionally and fundamentally, I just don’t make money off of this blog. It is NOT monetized. Finally, I don’t track you because I just don’t care to.
This article was written in response to a discussion that I had with a friend of mine. He made the statement, “You wouldn’t be able to believe how these (Chinese) people lived! You and I could never live like that!” Turns out that he saw some propaganda from the UK and was convinced that the Chinese lived in windowless hovels. Not so. Not by a long shot.
Over the last thirty years, China has experienced a period of enormous growth. It began in the 1990’s. It started when the progressive socialist policies of Mr. Mao were replaced with the Free-Market Conservative policies of Mr. Deng. The result was predictable and resulted in an explosion in the overall quality of life for all Chinese people. A period of exceptional growth ensued and a middle class appeared. Here, we talk about the direct result of that change. We discuss the Apartment Houses that Chinese middle class live in.
Typically, most Chinese live in apartment complexes. There is a percentage, of course, that have their own houses. There are those that share, what we in the West refer to as “Townhouses”. There are those that occupy (rent-free) ancient dilapidated old complexes that can still be seen everywhere. (Why not? They might be old and ugly, but living in them is free!!!!) Not to mention, the others that live on farms, villages, and in the hinder-land.
Let’s talk about the Chinese apartment houses.
Chinese Apartments
In China, the apartment complex consists of an area that is surrounded with a fence and is guarded by guards (24-7) with video cameras and gates. Within that complex are the buildings that make up the complex. Now, in China, you might have a building that has three towers. Each tower would have it’s own set of elevators and access keys. The Chinese refer to these towers as “buildings”, so it can get a little confusing.
Above is a typical apartment complex. It is within an Apartment area and contains numerous large buildings. In the United States, we call these buildings “skyscrapers”. There are three towers in the example above. They share the foundations and the first three floors. They also share the underground garage. There are also other buildings. In China, when you work the employer must be able to provide you food and housing. Though you can opt out if you prefer.
The Gate
Every apartment complex is surrounded by a fence and a main gate. At the gate is a little guard house, a gate and biometrics. To enter any housing complex you need to show that you are a resident. Further, as a resident you will be given an electronic card-key or fob that will enable you to enter the apartment area. As is common in China today, everyone is monitored by CC Cameras, and recorded in the event that some crime is committed and there is a need to identify the perp. The gates are always manned 24-7.
Parking
Typically, most apartments have interior parking and exterior parking. The exterior parking is for short term parking. At my apartment complex, the fee is 10 RMB/hour if you park outside.
When you enter the front gate the license plate reader scans your car and records your entry time. Then when you leave you will need to pay the guard (BaoAn) the amount you owe. You can pay electronically, as most do. Typically people use Alipay or WeChat to pay. They just scan the QR code using their cell phone when the guard comes to the door.
Underground parking is reserved for residents. Typically there is a monthly fee that everyone needs to pay. I have heard different rates, but here in Zhuhai the rate is around 300 RMB/month.
The parking garages are unlike that which you will find in the USA. They are not dingy, grimy, dusty or anything like that. They are not at all dim or poorly it. They tend to be very clean, almost like you could eat off the floor in them. They are also spacious and well lit. Here is a Chinese chick in a micro-video in an underground parking garage. It’s pretty typical.
Anyways, the point here is that the parking garages are treated quite differently than they are in the United States. There is a staff that monitors them, cleans them, and makes sure that they are well lit and well taken cared for. Additionally, the care and concern for a given parking garage is a reflection of the owner of the apartment house in the building. As a result, many apartment underground parking garages are very nice and well maintained in China.
Building Access
Once you enter the apartment complex, you will typically need to walk through a park, or park-like area. The Chinese are very big on natural spaces in their apartment complexes. This area will have paths, exercise equipment, a few outside games like basketball or ping-pong, and an abundance of shrubs and trees. Even if the park area is on the third floor (typical in many cities).
Some parks share space with outside parking, while others are for pedestrians and doggies only. All of the parks have lighting, trashcans, places to sit, sleep, and have fun. Many have fountains (though whether or not they work, is hit or miss), and some have pools. Like the underground garage, you will have to pay to swim in the pool in your building. Typically it is 30 to 50 yuan per person per year. (From $5 to $10 USD.)
Here is a Chinese gal dancing on an apartment complex park. It looks like the third floor. As you can see, there are large areas to dance and exercise in (a very important thing in China as everyone loves to dance) and areas of grass and trees.
The pools tend to be shallow. With the deepest section rarely over 1.5 meters deep (about five feet). They are always tended and cared for, just like swimming pools are in the USA. However, they generally do not have life guards. The residents are expected to take care of themselves and to watch the younger kids and children.
Once you walk through this park-like area you will make your way to your building entry. If you are in an apartment that has, say five towers with one shared foundation, then you would enter the entrance directly associated with your tower. There are some buildings that have one central access point, while others have different access points depending on which tower you live in.
You will need an access key or FOB to get into the building. So, in case you are wondering, yes you need two keys to enter your building in China. One key is to the apartment complex, a second key to enter your apartment tower.
Elevator
Once you enter the building you will pass through a large open area that will hold mailboxes and some sofas and chairs for guests to wait for you. These are typically well lit and with marble or stone floors and walls.
You will pass through this area and go to the elevator area. In towers that are over 25 floors there are typically multiple elevators that run to pre-specified floors. For instance, one elevator might go from 1 – 25th floor, while another might run from 1, then 26th to the 50th floor. Some apartment buildings have elevators that run to only odd floors, while others run to even floors. All, in all, it cuts down on the waiting time in tall buildings.
Like what is common in many hotels in China, you will also need your apartment key or FOB to run the elevator. The elevator will not work (in many cases) unless you have a residence FOB.
Front Door to the Apartment
The front door will more than likely have “good luck” symbols on the door. These will be red designs with gold or black trim. This will consist of the symbol for “fortune”, either right side up or upside down and certain lucky sayings. It is a tradition to get new door decorations at the start of each Chinese New Year (CNY).
The doors will use a key that has nothing in common with American keys. American keys tend to be a flat bar of metal that has slots cut into it. Chinese keys come in different cross sections, including rectangular, triangular, circular, half-moon, and all with certain different kinds of security protections. Back twenty years ago, say around 2000, crime was rampant and people were constantly getting broken into. These different key types each come with their own unique blanks and procedures to open and replace. Indeed, you have to be a key-smith expert to be able to break into any Chinese houses today.
Most homes built in the last ten years all have biometrics. You need either a finger print or retinal scan to enter. Alternatively there is typically a key pad that is available if you want to be a little “old school” about home security.
Once inside – the apartment
Most Chinese apartments are much, much smaller than their American counterparts. they range in size from very tiny 40 square yard affairs, to 70 square yard, 120 square yard, 300 square yard, and up to 500 square yard apartments. Most Chinese people that I know own their house. They paid for it in cash. They live in a 70 to 120 square yard house.
The 40 square yard apartment is very tiny. It’s just big enough for a bed, a bathroom, and a refrigerator. Many that are being made now are called “lofts”. They fit an upstairs in this tiny space so that you can sleep above a very cozy living room.
The 70 square yard apartment is still small, but it is big enough for one (or two) bedrooms, a nice bathroom, a kitchen, and a living room. There is always a porch and a washing area. Many young professionals and first time home owners select this size of house to live in.
The 120 square yard apartment is pretty much ideal for the expanding family. It consists of three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a kitchen, a dining room and a living room. Of course there is a porch and laundry area.
Many Chinese families have the parents living with them. This is a long standing Chinese tradition where the parents of the oldest sun moves in with the family. They then take care of the new children of the family. The 200 to 300 square yard layout is perfect for this larger family. There will be three or four bedrooms, two bathrooms, large living room and dining room, and a very spacious kitchen.
There are many kinds of apartments in China, however we can distill most of them into the following format and understanding…
Attributes of a Chinese Apartment
Firstly, notice that there are no rugs or carpeting. The Chinese prefer solid stone flooring. This flooring is typically white or off-white. In just about every apartment that I have been to, liven in or visited, the floor was solid stone slab.
Secondly, note that the walls are not plain. There are adornments. The Chinese hire interior decorators to render the walls “comfortable” and suitable for a household. The walls are either painted white, tiled in sheet stone or marble, or tiled in white tile. It seems like the videos are of a mansion, but nope, it’s a real honest-to-goodness middle class house.
Sometimes the houses have a wooden or FRS decking floor. This is a rather recent innovation. Those apartments that have this wooden floor typically use it for the bedrooms, or other “soft” areas.
One of the first things you notice when you get into a Chinese house is that there is a rack of shoes near the door. It is typical in most Asian countries to take off your outside shoes and wear house slippers inside. You can see this in this next video. Here’s a chick in her apartment being cute…
Another thing about living in these towers is that they are really, really high up. Falling off the balcony is not an option when you are on the 36 floor. With that said, you often are able to get really, really outstanding views.
Now, if you are in the middle of a city, like downtown Shenzhen or Shanghai, you might find (much to your dismay) that your view is blocked and all that you can see is the apartment tower across the street. That really sucks. However, just moving to a different apartment on the same floor might provide you with an amazingly different view. Some, heck most, are just stunning.
Conclusion
I think that by looking at how other people live in distant parts of the globe, we can see our similarities and our differences in a new light. I believe that that knowledge is very important. It shows us our place on this planet and where we exist in the universe.
Rather than buying into the constant drum roll towards endless wars against some kind of cardboard cut out of what our “enemies” are, we can make the judgements ourselves. We no longer need to be blindly led towards more outrageously expensive and heart-rendering wars. War, mind you at only benefits the 0.01% of global elite.
I am tired of it. It’s a non-stop onslaught of war! war! war! propaganda. It’s all about getting YOU (yes, you) to buy into the notion that there must be a war to be fought. Whether it is against some tiny banana republic or a huge nation like China or Russia.
People are people. We eat. We sleep. We work. We have families. There are more things in common with each other, than our disagreements. That is the truth. All you need to do is step outside the USA bubble and look around a bit. Open your eyes.