Country Boy Insight

Playin’ cards at Pop-Pop’s farmhouse, if you forgot the suit, ‘course you’d say, “What’s trump again, darlin’?”

Meanin’, if hearts is trump, you can’t play spades.

Now, ‘magine, if it’s hard to remember trump in cards, how much harder is real life? Who can keep it all straight, every time?

You reckon havin’ no instructions, no guide, makes things any easier?

Handlin’ life — bit more complicated than a card game. ‘Stead o’ five cards, let’s say, it’s like you got 49 cards, ‘n’ there’s seven suits all at once, straight through.

April 2024

Update: August 2024

Jethro Johnson

www.Greenville.SC

If that sounds complicated, well, tis ‘n’ tain’t.

You can manage it — prolly been doin’ it your whole life — but I reckon ‘splainin’ it might send you down a rabbit hole.

First off, don’t worry, them book-smart, highbrow types can’t ‘splain it neither.

I ‘spose at college, lot of ’em din’t have time for everythin’, chasin’ tail ‘n’ all. Could either learn to sound smart, or be smart, one.

You know Karl Marx, the feller whose ideas have already killed a heap of people, ’bout two hundred million? Two centuries later, (and this tells you how unimaginative folks can be — real Southdown sheep), they still fallin’ back on his fancy, made-up cult-words to cover big holes in understandin’.

Click on any photo to enlarge

Today they paint themselves as mighty clever, usin’ the old false flag. Trottin’ out nice-soundin’ “Conflict Theory,” or “DEI,” or “woke,” but it’s still the same ol’ Marxist bull: paranoia ‘n’ murder.

On a second reckonin’, “Conflict Theory” don’t even sound hot. Lookin’ at every issue as “Oppressor” versus “Oppressed” — it’s like always bein’ dead set on puttin’ socks on a rooster… if socks on a rooster got people killed.

Point bein’, don’t let ’em make you feel stupid — they ain’t got no sense nohow. Elsewise, why they gotta fall back on that cult crap? If it smells like rottin’ carcass — ‘n’ for two hundred million, that’s puttin’ it mildly — nothin’ fancy ’bout that.

Don’t make it no better that they hide behind a lick and a promise, makin’ out Antonio Gramsci to be the new Sam Adams, or Rosa Luxemburg the new Betsy Ross.

But guess what? We gonna help ’em get some sense.

What’s the other option? They wanna do us like they done in Soviet Eurasia after nineteen hundred and seventeen. Put us on the ol’ Gulag Diet. Expect us to spin yarns, one ‘gainst the other.

Or do us like their rapist heroes done to Israeli women ‘n’ babies on 7 October. Unspeakable! Hearts darker than a snake’s belly in a wagon rut.

So let’s make this real clear-like, to cut through those cult-verses from Marx they still chantin’ — in those soy-boy circles where they wearin’ black sleeves over skinny arms.

As I say, real life is more complicated than Spades ‘n’ Hearts. Like playin’ seven suits at a time. (‘N’ professors are trickin’ sheep-children into thinkin’ all’s so simple.)

First off, you got one trump, one element, that ain’t goin’ nowhere: HUMAN. Means you gotta be ethical, centered on that. (First thing they “forgot” to add in that D.E.I. acronym.)

Human stands for, “Just remember, everybody’s got a momma, a sister, so think on that and do right by ’em.”

It also means we gotta build humans up, elevate all kinds of learnin’, so we all know how to play these here “suits.”

We need each other if we’re gonna stay alive, ‘n’ stay free.

That don’t just mean hit the books hard. Hit the farm work too — learn how to be a real man, get dirty. We don’t need any more of them black-clad sad ‘n’ confused cult boys.

We all gotta learn how to get straight with God (or Dhamma, or Brahma — you know what I’m gettin’ at) ‘n’ become a good person.

Yes, that may mean you get put over your aunt’s knee and get switched until you learn how to say, “Yes ma’am,” share your toys. All that.

But serious, we gotta make sure kids get a chance, get love ‘n’ stability, ’cause that’s when a lot o’ the learnin’ needs to happen.

Them that grows up full-rapscallion — no father, mother with a different boyfriend every week — hard to fix that in a grown man. Ain’t no Red theory of “victimhood” gonna save anyone who grown up like that.

Doin’ right by other people also means, “Different strokes for different folks.”

Maybe you like two-steppin’ ‘n’ four-wheelin’, but other folk wanna spend their time on sports, fishin’, worship, or whatnot. Let ’em be how they want, ’cause that’s what you would want for yourself. Long as they mind their own business.

As we talkin’ ’bout values, remember too that near ’bout everybody puts family first.

And on the topic of kinfolk, those Marxist professors ‘n’ journalists — we’ll be generous ‘n’ pretend like they deserve those words — maybe they should go back ‘n’ attend what schools these days call “family life” class.

You ever seen the mug-shot photos of these young Chekist wannabes? Bless their hearts, they’re like a bullfrog serenadin’ a mirror — more hopeful than handsome.

If they ever learn what today’s twelve-year-olds already know, they might could reckon why “races” livin’ in the same place for a few generations have a weird way of mergin’ together.

I guess it’s “impossible” to understand how it all works, but somehow, even without any of that Marxist black-magic or witch-doctorin’ — Lord knows, every university needs two hundred D.E.I. “administrators,” don’t even pretend to teach, just light some incense or chant some verses — somehow, this mergin’ has been goin’ on for tens o’ thousands o’ years.

“Oh, how did we ever manage?”

Somebody call up them Franks and Gauls, ring up them Etruscans and Romans, let ’em know they all still separate peoples.

Without them Woke priests and nuns, no one could make heads or tails of what to do with each other under the sheets, to make two into one.

Shoot!

“Oh, help us!

“Whatever do we do down here?”

Judgin’ from what I seen on the Internet, or from the results I see plumb everywhere, includin’ my own young’uns… seems folks is findin’ a way, somehow.

Ain’t that somethin’!

Shockin’… and unexplainable.

I ‘spose I best wring out a chicken’s neck and put it on some woke altar, to make amends.

As much as they’re set on performin’ radical surgery on society, maybe them Reds could just put down the saw, for a change, and let a superior force carry out nature’s business?

I sure hope they can suss it out.

“Maybe not everyone needs or wants our brutal quackery?”

Who woulda thunk it?

I guess now’s as good a time as any to slide into FREEDOM, our next suit.

Kind o’ hard to have “different strokes for different folks” without that, huh?

We just got started on number two, and already you can see that you can’t have one suit without linkin’ back to the others.

That’s what these simple-minded Reds have been leaving out: it’s not the suits themselves, it’s how you play them together.

It’s the links that count.

Not everything’s basic, just ’cause a cult-o’-death wants it so.

Hold on now, to be fair, it’s only our high-flyers that’s been leavin’ out the “minor detail” of interconnectedness.

In China, they already known that for thousands o’ years — at least, ‘fore 1949 they did.

Called it “Daoism.”

Like our own Good Book says: “He is before all things, and in Him all things hold together.“

Tain’t just Daoism, neither just our book — Buddha, yonder in India, said much the same: “When this exists, that comes to be; with the arising of this, that arises. When this does not exist, that does not come to be; with the cessation of this, that ceases.“

Anyway, freedom.

We been free for so long in this country, we kinda forget that freedom ain’t really the “normal” way. Least, not for the last few thousand years.

In the better part of countries, ‘n’ ’bout everywhere ’til 1776, common folk don’t usually get much in the way of rights.

‘Less you count knights ridin’ ’round, takin’ womenfolk as they please, bashin’ brains without battin’ an eye, as “rights.”

I trust you know what “freedom” means. Just remember to tell yourself, as we go through each suit, “Gonna need freedom for that one to work.”

So next, LOYALTY.

Meanin’ not just to your country, but to yourself and your own conscience.

Meanin’ to your family, your school, your neighborhood. Long as they ain’t set to doin’ somethin’ plain wrong and ‘spect you to follow ‘long.

Remember we said the human element’s all wrapped up in ethics, and buildin’ people up? So don’t forget now: if you wanna show loyalty to human dignity, means you gotta respect freedom too.

Just like biscuits and gravy, loyalty can’t go without them others.

Cornbread and collard greens: neither can them others hold their water without a heap of loyalty, no sir.

I reckon you’re gettin’ the idea about the links between the suits — that’s where the real action is.

A real NASCAR speedway, these links.

How long do you ‘spect freedom can last without loyal people to defend it? That’s somethin’ us country folk have always known — got the missin’ arm to show for it — but them Red professors never figured to include loyalty in their highfalutin acronyms. Or, should say, they figured, but just didn’t want.

Didn’t include freedom, neither. Wonder why not? Don’t care ’bout neither, is all.

Now, when you take a creative mammal — a human, nicely put together — ‘n’ you add on freedom, loyalty — mix them three ingredients in one bowl — that all means you got somebody on the hunt for new ways to do things, to make things better for folks.

You look ’round ‘n’ see what can be done, in terms of improvin’, inventin’, or anticipatin’ challenges ‘n’ opportunities.

We call that INNOVATION — our next suit.

Nothin’ gets people excited like a big ol’ project to make life better. Brings people together. Shows ’em that sacrifice ‘n’ hard work actually serve.

So, loyalty starts by gettin’ us askin’, “What newfangled idea can we rustle up, to uplift human values?,” then, the innovatin’ itself turns ’round ‘n’ dials up loyalty.

I figured “virtuous circle” was already puttin’ on airs, but now we’re talkin’ ’bout “feedback” and “emergence.” To be plain, it all serves to prove, beyond doubt, that these elements form a complex system. Meanin’, they make up a mighty intricate setup with its own force. And this site o’ many names is revealin’ it all for the first time.

It’s like this: you can saw off a horse’s leg or tail, ‘n’ show ’em to a stranger from an island that ain’t got no horses. He can study ’em real hard, learn all he can from lookin’. But he won’t know nothin’ t’all ’till he sees all them parts workin’ as one in a real, gallopin’ horse.

Long story short, the elements we’ve mentioned so far go together mighty fine, ‘n’ can’t be no other way. Even sayin’ “sweet tea ‘n’ barbecue” don’t express the half of it.

ORGANIZATION is a suit that might not sound real hot, ‘less you think on it.

Fact is, sounds pretty good when you reckon the alternative.

Example: for thousands o’ years, families would be tickled pink if they had a single bed, with real feathers, in their cabin — ‘n’ every man, child, ‘n’ chicken would sleep on it. Visitin’ strangers was liable to leave behind babies in the oven with the womenfolk.

Or, ‘magine you don’t know ’bout making rows in your garden — you just throw some seed, random-like. That gonna serve, to put food on the table? Gonna give you spare time to use freedom, or to innovate? That kind of incompetence, is that gonna do much for loyal service?

Runnin’ ’round like a chicken with its head cut off ain’t gonna get the job done right. No matter what job.

They say Complexity, in some ways, is the science o’ common sense. Meanin’, intuition already brings these here suits together. What Sig Freud yonder in Austria called “subconscious.”

That means y’all got even less of an excuse not to know the one system that frames everythin’ ethical ‘n’ sustainable that humans do.

Folks, this is literally all you got as a toolbox, so get real familiar with it. Feller who discovered it called it 4D Star.

And I know you ain’t never heard of it, ‘fore now, ’cause it first showed on this-here site, Greenville.SC.

Same name as my uncle’s hometown — biggest metro in South Carolina.

Anyway… organization.

Let’s face facts: “no organization” means “no teamwork,” it means no structure to your day… even your thoughts would be scattered in the wind.

As I say, no structure a’tall.

Now, if an outfit looked like that, how loyal would you be to ’em? How much innovatin’ do you reckon would happen? Would they know heads from tails, in terms of protectin’ freedom, or servin’ human values?

Are you catchin’ the drift? It’s not the suits themselves, it’s the connections between.

Look to sharp-witted, keen-minded folks — not our fool Communists, but them Daoists before China went Red. The Good Book. Buddhism.

Understandin’ reality: it’s lookin’ at the whole system, all at once — not kindergarten-level, basic, one-at-a-time, step one, step two, step three.

But still, what holds all this together? What holds us all together?

Connectivity and Communication

If we don’t feel connected — spiritual-wise or emotion-wise — we ain’t gonna be much o’ a team.

We’re in trouble if we have “two sides” that both see the other as set against their own deeply-held human values.

We ain’t gonna fight for freedom, together. We might be liable to fight against each other.

Kinda like a wild first wife. If you can’t see yerself with her down the line, that ain’t gonna do much for stickin’ together. See, bein’ loyal’s all about standin’ by each other in the days to come, come what may. Trust adds in time.

Likewise, in this example of “no connection,” it ain’t lookin’ good for innovatin’ — seein’ as how you’re not a team, don’t trust each other, ‘n’ thus don’t got loyalty. The only “innovatin'” might be grabbin’ what you can ‘n’ hightailin’ outta there.

Same goes for communicatin’. If things is good, communicatin’ means listenin’ respectful-like, showin’ that you honor their humanity, their values, their freedom. It’s ’bout showin’ you have loyalty to each other — that you’re willin’ to innovate, with an eye on makin’ things better.

Lackin’ all that, though, Heaven help us. Hollerin’, fightin’, throwin’ pots and pans. All them other elements? Forget it.

What’s it all for? Why are these the tools that the good Lord gave us to use, all-at-once ‘n’ straight through?

Can’t speak for the Lord, but I’d say, one, it’s ’bout survival ‘n’ success. Usin’ all these at the same time, we get what they call resilience, adaptability, trust, cohesiveness, ‘n’ diversity. Even language ‘n’ civilization come from the whole lot.

Brings to mind somethin’ queer. Them woke priests ‘n’ nuns might should be able to tell you where diversity comes from in the first place — ain’t that their job? But they can’t.

Shoot!

Just try askin’ ’em.

I reckon they give you a funny look, mumble somethin’, and skedaddle on outta there.

Anyhoo, there’s more to it, but I think you’re already gettin’ the idea.

If you want a highfalutin version, I’ll give you the link. Brian Luedke came up with this “4D Star” business — guess he figured “Luedke-ism” don’t serve.

But truth be told, I don’t see much to it.

Save what us country folk have already known for ages.

Might help with those Red professors though, or more likely, it’ll lend a helpin’ hand to them sheep-kids. Build up some immunity, some insight, before the Castro-lovin’ evangelists have at ’em.

Might force ’em to think on all the things the Reds “forgot” to include in their sacred acronyms.

Maybe one day they’ll see fit to explain why they let slip the wisdom of the Chinese Daoists, of Buddha, of the Good Book, ’bout harmony ‘n’ synergy.

4D Star versus D.E.I., or Conflict Theory…

Sorta puts me in mind o’ Superman versus Lex Luthor. How they outfitted that young’un from Planet Krypton with just ’bout every power under the Sun, ‘n’ then there was Lex, plain ol’ Lex, not a single power to his name, just as common as they come.

All so they could get a kick outta seein’ Superman lay him low in grand style, time ‘n’ again. Lex reminds me quite a bit of Woke, he surely does.

As I say, tain’t always ’bout objects by themselves, one-by-one, like you’re pickin’ up some simple, random rocks. No matter what was written in the 1840s by some unemployed, lazy slob who impregnated ‘n’ mistreated his ragged housekeeper, then disowned their son out of class snobbery.

Marx’s own daughter took cyanide, just as Stalin’s wife shot herself, and Stalin’s son shot himself.

Must’ve been great fellers to live with!

Just a shame these kinfolk didn’t take along the “giants of philosophy” — to hear how our sorry excuses for intellectuals paint things — with ’em.

Didn’t even mention that Castro’s son Fidelito killed himself, too. Mao’s wife Jiang Qing killed herself. Yonder in Peru, Abimael Guzmán’s wife Augusta hanged herself.

Y’all pickin’ up what I’m layin’ down, like a coonhound on a scent?

Startin’ to see the light, like a firefly in a mason jar?

These here were pure-dee monsters, y’all, who didn’t care a lick ’bout the human suit!

What’s 4D Star?

In a word: if you wanna understand a system — in this case, the system that frames your entire life — it’s all ’bout the links, ‘n’ what emerges out of ’em when they’re all workin’ together in harmony.

Pretty sure you wouldn’t be sittin’ there behind that computer, comfy-like, without the relations between these here suits we been speakin’ of.

For is not this the fast that I have chosen?
(The prophet spoke) To shatter every yoke,
of wickedness the grievous bands to loosen,
oppression put to flight,
to fight, to fight, to fight till every wrong’s set right.
to fight, to fight, to fight till every wrong’s set right.

For righteousness and peace will show their faces

to those who feed the hungry in their need,

and wrongs redress, who build the old waste places,

and in the darkness shine.

Divine, divine, divine it is when all combine!

“Now quit your care”

Traditional / Anonymous

Country Boy Insight

www.Greenville.SC

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