Learning From the Abuse and Death of Jaxon “Jax” Burnette

Jax Burnette

“If the sound of happy children is grating on your ears, I don’t think it’s the children who need to be adjusted.”
― Stefan Molyneux

They say a picture shows a thousand words and the picture below certainly does when it comes to the horrifying tragedy that is child abuse.

Jaxon “Jax” James Burnette

The death of Jaxon”Jax” Burnette was one of those horrid incidents that transcends much of the current political and cultural climate.  People really – and rightfully so – think child abuse is horrible.  People were worked up.  Groups were created dedicated to getting justice for Jax.  So to that that end Facebook groups, comment sections, and all the rest shrieked in anger.

After that it died out – with a few shrieks here and there.  So in this aftermath we need to do some serious adult talk time among ourselves and ask, “What have we learned?”

Probably not much.  In fact, we will probably see this same story again, people will express their noble outrage, and then it is back to the grind. (I understand, I have a life as well.)

If there’s anything I’ve realized over the last few years, it’s that the desire to burn someone at the stake or throw tomatoes at the criminal in stocks has never gone away – regardless of how educated, enlightened, or progressive we have gotten.

We have this ravenous unquenchable desire – almost on the level that fuels our sex, survival, and hunger drives – to be able to point at “villains” and in the process allow us to feel better about ourselves.

“At least I’m not like that guy!”

We need to shame, pass judgement, and feel above them.  Now in the case of Jaxon, those of us who aren’t abusing children are better than those who are not – at least on a moral level. However if we aren’t careful, we could easily be brought down low to their level.  Most people don’t like the idea of that, so they remain perched in their high moral ivory towers.

They writhe with righteous anger and indignation, call for the abusive parents to be taken out an shot, and spout about how shocked they are that something this terrible could happen.  Almost reminds you of how people change their Facebook profile to flag stripes of whatever country suffered yet another terrorist attack. Then they forget all about it.

It should make you question how much they actually care vs how much they wish to be perceived as people who do in their contrived sermons of indignation.  A dirty little secret is that most people don’t truly care.

 

The Mob Isn’t Really Interested in Preventing Child Abuse

The mob – righteous this time in their outrage – entirely missed the underlying factors which created the situations that led to the horrible tragedy that happened to Jax.  No one wants to attempt to understand what was happening to his parents because they fear it will be misconstrued as excusing their vile behavior.

Most of the tips, hotlines, and advice out there are for AFTER-THE-FACT instead of focusing on early stages. It’s similar on how always focus on “healing” the patient, but never on the preventative care to help avoid the injuries, diseases, or conditions in the first place.

Raising awareness about child abuse is useless if we aren’t doing “real talk” with people close to us who have young kids as well.  Because of the danger of social media shame mobs that could cost you your job and future prospects, no one who is about to snap from the pressure and lack of sleep will reach out for advice.

They don’t want to be shamed, nor admit that it’s much harder then they EVER thought it would be or that they had those horrid thoughts in moments of sleep deprived anguish.  If we can’t talk about it without the worry of someone reporting them to CPS, then many of these stories will repeat.

Something I’m now just finding out is that no matter what you do, kids still cry – especially infants and toddlers. If you’ve done everything possible, just let them be.  You aren’t a bad parent.   Instead of trying to be super hero parents, we need to encourage those around us to take a step back when stressed. If you have to put your screaming infant in a car seat in the bathroom for 15 minutes and turn the fan on, so be it.

That stepping back is key to stopping yourself from starting down the dark path to child abuse. Preventing yourself from getting to that path can’t be understated. Just like in Fargo, you can avoid that final woodchipper death by never getting in bed with devious criminals in the first place.

 

The Tragedies

When our second son Nehemiah was born, the hospital made us watch 3 videos about proper care for your infant before my wife could be released. One thing that came up was the case of Jaxon “Jax” Burnette

In conversation about it, a nurse told us that Missouri – where our second son was born when we lived there – had the most incidents of child abuse.  Sure enough in 2013 alone, there were over 61,000 reported cases in Missouri of which 31 died.  Most of the children were all under 4 years old – which is the stage where the most work, patience, and energy is required by parents.

(Note this is not a dig at “Fly-over country” or anyone from the South in particular.  The child abuse epidemic is widespread.) 

Dig back and harrowing stories pop up. Tons of other cases of shocking child abuse.  I’m not talking about spanking a tantrum raging 5 year old or a mother slapping a disrespectful teen, I’m referring to REAL child abuse. Story after story. Some of the ones listed below were the ones that stood out most to me.

  • A 10 year old girl down to 32 pounds, locked into a closet wallowing in her own excrement in a modern day vicious twist on Cinderella. In contrast,  her two sisters were well fed and cared for.
  • A mom beats her 17 month old girl to death and tries to pass it off as death from a spider bite. The terrible bruises around the neck, face, and the rest of the body would undermine her story to the point the police chief said it looked the girl had been in a car accident.
  • In Springfield MO – where me and my wife currently live – a 7 year old boy and 2 year old girl were starved, beaten, tied to chairs, and thrown down stairs. “The toddler was so malnourished, hair was falling out. She had scratches and cuts all over her body. Her feet swollen causing her toes to turn blue.”    How did it get that far?
  • A 37 year old woman sodomizes and rapes a two old boy, while having her boyfriend video tape it.  Obviously this goes way beyond physical child abuse.  The boy will be scarred deeply for life.
  • A 17 year old babysitter burned a 8 month old baby girl with a curling iron. Blisters were on her head, bottom of her feet, and all over her legs. To top it off, the babysitter then said the mom burned the baby girl further with the iron to shut her up.

What do all these cases have in common when you read through them?  How did they ever get to this point? 

“SCREW CHILDREN! That’s the mantra of the world. Instead of burying them with a national debt, shoving them in shitty schools, drugging them if they don’t comply, hitting them, yelling at them, indoctrinating them with religion and statism and patriotism and military worship, what if we just did what was right for them? The whole world is built on “screw children”, and if we changed that, this would be an alien planet to us.” – Stefan Molyneux

A lack of patience, self control, and selfishness.  

Unfortunately, the millennial generation in particular – of which I am a member – is often too busy or consider our futures to unpredictable and unstable to have kids. Some still end up remaining a burden, even after they grow out of their infant stage – an indictment of our selfish culture that excuses it’s loathing for children by contrived hysterics about not throwing more money into education.  (The home environment, not their school is where stability must be established.)

Still, despite various precautions babies happen planned or not.  Thing is they either are born to parents often just one parent these days who don’t really want them, don’t want to adapt their lifestyle for them, or can’t be bothered to have the patience that those first few years of a child’s life demand in high volumes.

So what do we do about it besides shrieking and going back to our normal lives later?

Step Out Of The Shadows

We need to encourage those who are struggling as first-time parents without support to come out of the shadows and to open up.  People will always judge, but plenty of us have or are still in the shoes of those who are new parents that are susceptible to “snapping”. Maybe part of it is pride holding them back from wanting to admit it to themselves.

New parents need to know that they can take a break for a moment.  Leave the room for 20 minutes. Hug each other.  Call a friend on the phone for support.  Maybe even leave the car seat, bassinet, or port-a-crib in the bathroom with the fan on for a bit.

Frustration and Anger are powerful emotions.

Even those of us with the best self-control need to realize we are human and we have to step back at those key moments where you honestly just want to punch the wall, throw the bassinet across the room, or curse the day your child was born.

Step back.  Realize what’s happening. Take a break. Yes, in case people try to misconstrue what I’m saying, child abuse is terrible and wrong. Let’s get to the root to help stop it before it bubbles to the surface.

I’ll give you a personal example from months back when my son was an infant.  I had this logical desire to “fix” the situation and rational methodology to do it.  Of course I forgot as I often do that babies sometimes will cry regardless of what we do.

It’s part of being a baby.  (Start letting them self-sooth from a young age or they might not be able to sleep with you rocking them to sleep!)

I can recall being in a frustrated and utterly exhausted state.  I shouted “Shut up!” at one of my boys. I’m pretty sure I threw an expletive in there.

Moments later after the frustration had been released, I’ll felt quite bad for yelling.  What was it going to do? What were the implications in the future if I was setting an example for them from their earliest years that yelling was how you dealt with frustration?

“They are only babies”, I’ll realize again for the umpteenth time moments later.   Just a few days before that,  I was so agonized by my three month old son Nehemiah loudly and incessantly crying that I simply picked him up, put him in our bed, propped him on some blankets, turned on the fan to drown out noise, closed the door, and went into the other room to get away from it.

Eventually he fell asleep.

Plenty of people will think admissions such as this make you a monster. They don’t.  If said people were honest themselves for once instead of trying to virtue signal some kind of moral high-ground to scold the rest of us from, they’d finally look in the mirror and see the truth for what it is.

None of this stuff comes from out of nowhere. It bubbles. It nags at you. It builds to the point where you are ready to explode.  Well, we need to slowly twist the cap off. Recognizing you have a problem – as they say – is the first step to leaving that stage of denial.

We’ve become a society who doesn’t want to admit weakness because there are plenty of people who only seek your demise or exposing your pain for the rest of the world to judge.

Seeking Support In The Right Places

I’m trying to avoid being political with this post, but I’ll mention one detail.  A close friend of mine mentions how Trump never apologizes for wrongdoing. I suppose he has a point.  However, considering the current cultural and political climate, would you apologize?

“Just apologize,” they say.  Why then does it seem an apology is never enough?  In today’s polarized social media climate, unlucky targets either have to resign from their job, close their business, or much worse.


Side notes:  Whatever you do – DONT post on social media the inner real thoughts you are having at the moment.  People will go after you, despite having similar thoughts themselves in the past. Also DO NOT go to social services.  I hate to say it but government employees and even hospital staff can’t be trusted.

You just never know if someone with a grudge will falsely accuse you or try to make your life hell.  If some bored pranksters on the internet can figure out where you live and send prostitutes and pizza to your house, people with access to your private record can wreck havoc.  Play it safe. 


People don’t seem to want an apology. They want mob justice and vengeance in order to signal their participation in the fervor.  Few things are deemed as bad as todays popular “ists” and isms”, but child abuse is one of them – as is the potential to become the one doing it.

Go seek the help, advice, aid, and support of people who really know you. Go talk to your close friends and family and tell them what’s going through your mind and how you feel like snapping sometimes. They’ve been through it and they can help guide you past it.

They actually care about you and you want you to become the best parent you can be.  Of course they care about your kids and want the best for them, just as you do.

So much of the terrible stories of child abuse we see today all over the news can be pre-empted early.   Let’s encourage people to realize and get the support they need earlier rather than later.

The tough early years of no sleep will pass.  Right now its already being replaced with a new challenge for me and my wife; the constant requirement to watch them as our oldest Julius runs fast and grabs anything he can, and our youngest Nehemiah crawls.

Now we have to be more aware. Just the other day my youngest was trying to eat the rather large crumbs and food – a choking hazard for an 8 month old – left behind moments before my oldest son.

In fact my oldest now knows what “No” means and he either throws himself, gets angry, hits you, or all of the above. Yes, there is a difference between discipline and punishment.We now undertake this new adventure.

Godspeed for all you parents out there.  Support and help is there.

 

 

Are You A Red Pilled Addict To Schadenfreude?

Recently I stumbled across an older article entitled “Are Men Still Hunting?”.   The author while an SJW feminist laments that men aren’t the aggressors anymore when it comes to approaching women.  (She follows up here.)  I saw some comments and added a cordial one of my own.

What stood out were comments strewn about how women were reaping what they’ve sown because of feminism and great pleasure was expressed about it. Okay that’s true as well as bits about how approaching can be easily construed as sexual harassment these days.

An overall glance of said comments prompted a realization;  many of us are too busy reveling in womens laments and pain to care about doing anything to help.  All we have is schadenfreude – and it appears to be a serious addiction.  That’s only a few steps away from being a miser who loves miserly company.

Not surprisingly, it was the MGTOWS who here enjoying her lamentations the most. While one phase of the Red Pill is a justifiable anger and bitterness phase, I’m starting to notice a slew of men who don’t come out of it. Ever.

Is this all you have?

Instead of any meaningful self improvement and actually finding a girl they enjoy, their primary driving factor for happiness is the misery of women – feminists in particular.  They are addicted to schadenfreude.  This wasn’t quite the Red Pill you thought you swallowed.

Take for example a post I dug up off the MGTOW boards in which “MikeTOW” admits he enjoys when women are haunted by their bad decisions:

Maybe this makes me a sicko, but I get pleasure when women put themselves into predicaments.

My favorite is when a woman turns down every good man who pursues her only to throw herself at the man who is blatantly a scumbag. Then when the scumbag man mistreats her, she whines and cries about how “there are no good men out there” and “all men are jerks”. Instead of learning from her mistake, she blames men and then REPEATS THE CYCLE!

Back in my mangina days I would try to console those women and reassure these women that there are certainly good men out there. These days I don’t care. And in fact, I find it amusing.”

Okay, yea I get it.  I loathe tumblr feminism as well and do my fair share of blasting self-entitled harpies on RVF boards.  And yes, I do admit sometimes getting satisfaction seeing the worst offenders reap all of the venom they’ve sown – especially male feminist white knights.   The anger?  I understand feeling it the lies we were told as well as the women who rejected us for Chads and now are facing the consequences.

However, don’t you ever feel a sense of sadness for them?    While they’ve bought into and advocate for an ideology which will make them miserable – and those around them, I often desire to apply actual burn ointment to their 1st degree roasted souls.

Obviously, the differeing worldviews make most online dialogue with them pointless, fruitless, and not worthy of your time.   In spite of this when you come across posts like hers, try avoiding another, “haha bitch” type comment that burns as well as points out what feminism has wrought.

Instead maybe just try a semi-neutral heart felt internet hug.  Will another comment debunking feminism change their mind and undo years of influence under a feminist worldview? No.

Here’s a question I would put plainly to them without snark: “What do you really want?”  You’ll find most women do want to fall in love. Romance. Be swept off their feed by a studly chad.   The truth hurts, but it can be presented with chocolates rather then a spear to the stomach.  Honey for the flies instead of vinegar.

I find that when I’ve talked to feminists face-to-face, as well as women in general that are very discouraged with their dating prospect, an honest genuine heaping of advice can get past the normal “blockers” and at least onto the plate as food for thought.  When a critique is done with kindness, the openness can be shocking.  (Plus it helps that they know you have no romantic interest in them – in my case being married and all.)

The Effects of Misery

When women are miserable in particular, it deeply affects them and those around them. Perhaps they deserve it – especially the slut walkers – but do we look past what they deserve for a moment?

Being constantly in a state of war is exhausting – especially when the enemy is a never ending source of social media and blog posts that are filled with venom.  Some rad fems may deserve to be burned by the fire they spew, but is mercy ever an option? I’d like to believe so. That Nietzsche quote about gazing into the monster seems to apply here.

Perhaps I’m mellowing a bit, but at a certain point I’d like to see relations between men and women improve wihout some sort of Mad Max like collapse of society – even if those in question aren’t worthy.    The author in question might have better luck at a Friday Night Magic tournament where she is surrounded by lots of men and almost no women – so why not point it out?

We know many women who wish they were approached by men they would find attractive.  For many it won’t happen.  However, we can at least make suggestions to help them make the best of their chances and interactions without malice dripping from our fangs.     (Especially if we know them.)

Who knows, maybe finding a guy they fall in love with might bring them out of their stupor.  It has for many a woman. Maybe she and they can be one of them – certainly a good thing for culture and society.

Two ways to deal with the raging emotions of your pregnant wife.

What happens to your old hobbies? They vanish as you and your spouse both envision strangling each other – but don’t.

My pregnant wife in her natural habitat. Ice cream. Facebook. And not directing emotional rages toward me.
My pregnant wife in her natural habitat. Ice cream. Facebook. And not directing emotional rages toward me.

The above picture is of my wife in her natural habitat – the bath.  To pacify her in this time of emotional tyranny, I gave her ice cream and let her chow down right out of the container.  I even promised not to make fun of her for it – a promise I’ve somewhat kept.     She even had her phone to scroll through Facebook.

I used this precious and rare time to play my current favorite game – Fallout 4 – modded because I have joined the PC master race.  Kid in a candystore, but this was one of my final pieces.

Welcome to marriage – pregnancy stage. Prepare yourself gentlemen.

My problem isn’t one that most men complain of – a lack of sex.  We average sex twice a day.  It’s my pride, the way our fights escalate, the hobbies I don’t want to give up, and the fact that I keep forgetting my wife is my wife – pregnant and not someone you can reason with.  Speaking in generalities, women respond to emotions and men to logic – though I’m seeing alot more emotional men these days.  I keep forgetting this.

Because I don’t want to be a complete loser, I’m trying to develop more productive hobbies – which does suck. I miss my video games, and I resent the amount of time I’ve been forced to give up playing them – regardless of how “mature” it makes me.

When I get home from work, I want to be lazy. I suppose now that I am a father with one son and another on the way, it is time to be responsible and look into new hobbies that my kids will share with me once they get a bit older.

That video game, I want to play it, without condemnation, nagging, or weird bouts of jealousy that I can drink alcohol and she can’t.  To this end, I am in her crosshairs – if she can’t have fun, I can’t either.  Now this is illogical, wrong, and plain out vicious, but that doesn’t matter.  She’s pregnant and emotional.

My lovely nympho wife will nag me about productivity – which is escalated depending on how bad her pregnancy hormones are that day. Alas, it has me writing more.  While I’ve sacrificed my prized video game time, my sex life is that of envy – we average twice a day with passionate bouts of love.

Today, I bring to you the subject of surviving your first year of marriage with a pregnant wife.   If you are with a women who is pregnant, throw out everything you know about her before she decided to carry your offspring.  Prepare for hell on emotional wheels of wrath.

Her raging, vicious, and unpredictable moodswings are now your problem.  She may start crying randomly, and by the end of it taking swings at you because of her rantings about her parents or yours. I’m not even referring to the verbal wrath that you will incur in the process – that’s just a bonus.   So what do you do?

You can’t reason with the beast. You can’t argue with it.

But you can pacify it.  As a man, it’s one of the most important tools you can learn to use when you have a family.
Behold, I give to you my fellow men, a weapon with which to master her emotions in their raw and uncontrollable state (1); the manly, yet smooth,  alluring, and sexual hug.

Now I’m a proud and stubborn man, and when my wife has either hit me or attacked me in the most vicious way with perfectly chosen words to inflict the most damage to my sanity, I don’t want to hug her.  (In fact I want to hit her back after she’s hit me.)  Again, muh pride.

Shockingly, I swore I would never allow a woman to do this to me.  Yet as she is my wife and the mother of my children, my tolerance for BS has gone up – because I love her.  Love changes things. It really does.  I am a proponent of the manosphere, but my wife is my wife, not just another plate.  (Also, dread game is a NO when your wife is pregnant, plus my wife is already very jealous and will beat up other women for looking at me wrong. )

I want to fight back with the nastiest words in my arsenal possible to make her feel the same anguish. “Hurts doesn’t it?”

Indeed it does, especially when she’s pregnant.  Of course, she will remember those fights far into the future and berate you later with, “You said these terrible things to me when I was pregnant,” regardless of any words of war directed at you, the suffering father.

Women fight very well with words, a favor I can return. But should I?  Should a pregnant women hear anything anything else that will make her emotions scream?  Stress is also an issue and it can cause miscarriages.  My pride though.  It’s very angry and upset.  It’s been unjustly wounded. Yet again, I swallow it, or at least I should.

Hug her tight – from behind and then move to the front. Slowly massage her shoulders and lower back.  Get her calmed down. Physical touch will do what the most logical of words will not.  Kiss her neck, suck on her earlobe a bit. Then notice what starts to happen.  Her face changes.

Your other weapon (2) : Angry frustrated pent up sex.  

When women are pregnant, their raging hormones need to be released. They are bottled up like a kid holding his breath. Sexist sounding or not, the truth is the truth.   So take control of the situation and arouse your wife in the process.

Those raging hormones? Well, release them. Direct them toward the bed. Or couch. Or bathroom.

If your wife already has a high sex drive, pregnancy will GREATLY escalate it.  So grab  her pants, and drop them down.  Get aggressive. Wrestle with her in that bed. Or on the floor.  Your video games may suffer, but your sex life will rise to new hard peaks.

So many of our fights could have been de-escalated, but since I was mad at her from her either hitting me or trashing me, I didn’t want to have sex with her – I was too livid. I had too much pride.   A simple hug and escalation to sex could have solved it.

I must admit, she’s even told me to hug her and hold her tight – and also to pull her pants down when we are fighting. In this, me and her are different.   My anger at that moment, I must swallow.   She doesn’t need words of logic about why she is being an unreasonable bitch -something she knows as well.  She needs a hug and to be led to the bedroom.

Never underestimate the power of sex.

Learn from me, swallow your anger at that moment, and pound it out deep.  Never has there been a more perfect time for a spanking in that love making. She will love you, and you will love her.

I wish you luck gentlemen.

For further advice on many at matter to do with marriage, I highly suggest TheFamilyAlpha and AverageMarriedDad, each with their own kind of approach.

Jaxon “Jax” James Burnette and The Parents That Snapped

Jax was only six weeks old when his bones were broken. His brain started to bleed internally from being thrown very hard onto a bed.  His throat was permanently damaged when his father tried to stop him from crying by shoving his fingers down his throat attempting to find his voice box.  Jaxon would never be the same.

UPDATE  1: Jax has passed away.  Murder charges will now be in the making. This is now a dire and lethal lesson to learn. May he rest with the angels.

UPDATE 2: More information has come out that hints that Jaxon may have been abused since birth.  Drugs may have been part of it, but this was just the culmination that ended up taking Jax’s life.

UPDATE  3: (ALSO: A commentor has hinted that Jax’s father Robert had a history of this kind of violence and had tried to kill his brother. ) Further reading via the DailyMail:  “His parents told police that he’d tried to kill his own brother in various ways over the years – including beating and stabbing him as well as trying to drown and smother him.”

In this case, Robert did one snap too far. “According to court records, he has also spent time in mental health institutions for severe anger issues. ”   The signs weren’t taken seriously.

————————————————————————————————————-

Child abuse is a term lightly thrown around in our time which is rife with potshots at spanking, mothers threatened for letting their kids play at the park, and parents who take away their teens Iphones and ground them from Tumblr, but the story you are about to hear is a case of real abuse.  Deathly abuse.

THIS IS A CAUTIONARY TALE.   Abuse like this is always horrible and vile, but we are fooling ourselves if we believe we are all above and beyond it. Obviously, Jax’s father in particular bordered on vile – considering he did attempt to kill his parents and his brother, from what I’ve read – so I wonder if Jax actually ever stood much of a chance at life.

IMPORTANT:  A lesson here is to be LEARNED.   This post is NOT interested in any kind of justification for the abuse of Jaxon by his parents, rather it’s devoted to ensuring it doesn’t happen to another innocent child. When horrific tragedies occur, we must learn from them – even if we aren’t any of the monsters that caused or participated in them.

Of course none of us are like his father or his mother.

However we are fooling ourselves if we think we might never just have that one brief moment.  Everyone has a breaking point.  Find it, know it, and make sure you never reach it.

Know yourself,  know the signs, and know when to take a break.  Never convince yourself that the stress won’t get to you: that you’re special.   You might think you’d never be capable of this, but how many people do you know who you thought would never be capable of abuse ended up being abusive?

Many of the pictures below have been making their rounds on Facebook.  My wife showed me the below. Blood is on his bib. His parents look almost clueless as to what’s happened.

Jax probably won’t make it.  If he does, he will have severe mental and physical disabilities. EDIT: We can now confirm he has passed from the brutality of this world and into one that is far better.

Jaxon “Jax” James Burnette

His mother didn’t do anything to stop it. She would later claim that she was scared of Jax’s father as well of her father killing Jax’s dad as to why she remained silent and didn’t alert anyone to what was happening.  Whether this is completely true, we don’t know.

What happened here is a tragedy, but a human story that needs to be told.    Truth be told, we could become like Jax’s parents in a moment that is just too much to bear.  Honestly, I don’t think they ever thought they were capable of this, and now the heartbreak is to set in.   They can’t take it back.

Now, everyone is a critic these day’s when it comes to parenting.  I recall a recent story where people recoiled in disdain as one man explained how he knew a father who used to put his screaming son in a carseat and leave him in the bathroom with the fan on until he stopped crying.  IF only Jaxon’s parent’s could have done this instead. Know your limits.

So terrible huh?

As parents, we do feel bad when our children cry, especially when they are infants. But sometimes, there isn’t much you can do.  If you have had a child who is just starting to go through teething, you know what I mean.

You give your kid some infant tylenol, comfort them as much as possible, and the put them in their crib. Often, they cry themselves to sleep because of how tired they get.  Yep, that sounds kind of bad, “Crying themselves to sleep”, but its how babies fall asleep.    If that doesn’t work, perhaps the whirring white noise of a fan in the bathroom might do the trick. At some point, you need to sleep.

If we are dead honest, all parents have wanted to do this at some point.  It makes them normal, human, and capable of getting stressed out instead of the superparents we read about on blogs that seem like a sitcom fairytale.

When your child has been screaming all night, you are dead tired, stressed, and exhausted, this seems more and more like a better option.   In fact, sometimes you just need to walk away from the room for a few minutes, regain your composure, and let your headache ease just a bit.

Some deem it cruel, but let’s look at what happens when parents who don’t do the above finally snap.  Below is a picture of Jaxon “Jax” James Burnette, a 6 week old baby who will probably won’t live much longer.

Take a look at this picture and ask, “What happened?”

A mother lost her maternal instinct to protect her young and never bothered to stop the father, who lost his paternal instinct in a fit of rage at some point. For instance, from another source:

“She admitted she lied at the hospital, telling doctors she didn’t know how the baby was injured. Police say she never showed emotion during their interrogation. She referred to her son not by his name but by “the kid” or “the baby.”

Jaxon “Jax” James Burnette

Look at the picture above one more time.  It’s as if she doesn’t realize his suffering or what’s happened. I’m kind of shocked everytime, I look at it.

Perhaps these are terrible people who were not meant to be parents.   It’s one thing to look like junkies, but its another to let those drugs destroy the bond a parent has for their child.

It’s easy to hate them. But, again what if we became them?  Are they really this cold? Could we ever become this cold if we just snapped?  It’s a scary thought.

These parents; I don’t believe they are as evil as we want them to be. I’m not justifying their actions; I just see how easily it could be for parents to snap at some point and to this.

I’ll let STLToday give you the morbid details:

WENTZVILLE • A man from Wentzville shoved his fingers down the throat of his 6-week-old son. He wanted to find the baby’s voice box and stop him from crying.

More abuse followed. The baby was thrown onto a bed. Shaken violently. Picked up by the back of his neck.

All the while the baby’s mother watched and made no effort to get help.

That’s the harrowing account spelled out in St. Charles County court records documenting the abuse against the infant boy, identified only as J.B.

The boy was still alive on Friday morning but “extremely critical,” the prosecutor’s office said. He was in protective custody and being treated at Cardinal Glennon Children’s Hospital for, among other things, bleeding on the brain and broken bones. Doctors have told police it’s “a likely possibility” the boy will die.

J.B.  is Jaxon James Burnette It’s likely that he may never see his father again.   Another dysfunctional nightmare story if the kid survives.    I’ve only been a parent for 7 months, but I can safely say – don’t try to be a superhero mom or dad.

Jax Burnette with blood on his bib. 6 week old baby.
Lessons must be learned.

Be a parent who realizes that sometimes you need a break, that the carseat and bathroom might not be a bad idea, and that sometimes, you just have to let them cry.  

This doesn’t make you bad parents. It makes you smart, compassionate, and aware ones. Composure and patience will become welcome friends. You aren’t a bad parent. Just one that needs to walk out of the room for a bit, so you don’t snap.  Raising a kid is hard enough for two parents.  Most of us don’t have that village we need, family close by, etc.

This isn’t to say you are like Jax’s parents, it’s just that the edge is a bit closer you might realize when the crying has gotten your head pounding, your wife crabby, and your sleep has been shortened.

What happened to Jax scared me. I think we all have just enough of an inner demon in us to do something like this. Most parents will insist that they could never do anything like this…   I think they are just scared to consider they could be capable of something this heartbreaking – especially when you see Jax’s face.   I thought about my son being in his place and it almost brought me to tears.

Julius Michael Temple, my firstborn.
Julius Temple in the bath

We just need the courage to admit that we need a break to prevent us from ever getting close to this possibility. Don’t let yourself go down the path. Don’t let yourself believe you are a superparent above this kind of stress.  It’s not an admission of guilt – its a recognition of the daily demands that we as parents have.

Now Robert may have been a creature of severe anger, hate, and now murder.  If you know you have anger problems, don’t let yourself get to the place where they can manifest!!! Take a break! Walk away for a moment.  The come right back.

Deus Vult brothers.

Envy Is Destroying Western Culture

Envy Is Destroying Western Culture

Envy is at the roots the core problem that plagues our culture – specifically that of the West.  It is destroying my generation.

Why Envy?  It’s all about that tenth commandment from that terrible mythical book that tells us not to covet.

What prompted this realization was a podcast by Quintus Curtius entitled, “Letting Go Of The Anger And Resentments Of The Past” in which he goes over why it happens and where it comes from.

I’ve seen people who have been so thoroughly damaged by their past that their anger consumes them and is dished out upon the surrounding world.

Their inability to let the past go cripples them.  Unlike the song, they shall not overcome.  Instead, they give into a formidable and dangerous form of envy, because its easier then taking any responsibility.  Why work on yourself, if others are completely at fault?

It is indeed envy more than it is jealousy because envy is the reaction to lacking what others have while jealousy is the usual reaction to losing what you have – usually not just in possessions, but people as well.

Look at the roots of the Social Justice dogma that plagues my millennial generation; it is a fundamental belief that you have been deprived, wronged, and prevented from having what is rightfully yours.  Everyone else is oppressing you.

The 1%, the cis straight white male with a decent white collar job, the normal everyday blue collar worker with no criminal record; they don’t deserve it, but the fact that they have it and you don’t leads to that boiling rage and all consuming fire of envy.  It’s not even just limited to success, as people covet the looks of others, blaming those looks and their lack of them for their inability to succeed.  On social media, this has been dubbed, “The Instagram Effect”. 

Look at the results of that fire. It destroys the lives of those who social justice types and feminists who have subconsciously and unknowingly became nihilists as the logical conclusion of their ideology tears into reality.

Consider the critics of men like Mike Cernovich.  What is at the root of their anger toward him? His success.  His influence. His ability to self-publish a book and sell over 15,000 copies in less than six months. Because they can’t have it, no one else can.  They want his “fame” and “fortune”, but they don’t want any of the hardwork that went with it and the family that Cernovich has created in these last few years.

They firmly believe that they are simply “leveling” the playing field, but don’t actually realize that they are destroying it because they hate themselves and what they have become.

Of course they can’t realize this because they are so thoroughly broken by their pasts, that they can’t see beyond their own pain, nor see the pain of other “privileged” people in front of them.

The resentment that Quintus talks about is all consuming. People who have more then you do aren’t just “privileged”, they are an enemy. Because they have what you don’t, they must be taken down a notch and made to “check their privilege.” Why create when you can steal, plunder, and destroy what was your enemies?

 

Envy Is Destroying Western Culture
Creating something new.

But even that isn’t enough. They are a kind of evil, to be vanquished. The homeless cis straight white male on the streets isn’t evidence of holes in their ideology, but rather a confirmation that the “Patriarchy”, “White Supremacy”, or whatever other buzzword effects the “privileged”.

Envy when left unchecked, and the anger and resentment that give birth to it, eventually result in a complete lack of empathy.  Ironically, that lack of empathy is exactly what they credit as to leading up to “systematic racism”, “white supremacy”, “Patriarchy” and the rest of it.

They have become that monster they despised and fought against.  Not only are they now becoming the establishment in both academic and media circles, but they are far more vicious and less empathetic then the dethroned evil they had fought against.  Even their fellow revolutionaries can be apart of the oppressive establishment and their  their supposed allies problematic, hence the recent inquisition by feminists targeting the “misogyny” of the gay community.

Why? What is turning them into Medusas that turn to stone everything they see?

Nietzsche was right when he said, “Beware that, when fighting monsters, you yourself do not become a monster… for when you gaze long into the abyss. The abyss gazes also into you.”

They are now that monster, fueled by anger and resentment of what others supposedly have which they do not.  Leveling the playing field isn’t enough anymore; they must now destroy and dismantle everything that the previous “establishment” has created and produced.

This is why political correctness isn’t just running amok, its becoming more personal each and every day as the political becomes deeply personal.

Envy is indeed dangerous, especially to those who are desperate to find a cause to give their life meaning and in turn adopt causes like “Feminism”, “Fat Acceptance”, and “Cultural Sensitivity” because they know their life doesn’t have purpose.  So does everyone else.

Because of that, no one else’s life can either.

This doesn’t have to be any of us. It doesn’t have to be you.  Even if everyone else is completely at fault for your problems, it won’t change the fact that you still face those problems.

“Stop hating and start creating.” – Mike Cernovich

Angry Conversation With a Stranger On A Train

It’s October of last year in the evening. I’ve made it to the train station just in time, half-walking and half-jogging.   My mood is somewhat relieved and I’m looking forward to listening to some music in the bliss of the ride home.

Hopping on the train at the Lake Forest stop, I grabbed a seat on the upper deck, put the other two down near me, and proceeded to lay down on them as a kind of makeshift bed.

Laying down, I glance up at my phone as I browsed through reddit and the newest stories of the perpetual outraged, headphones playing loud angry music in my ear.  Yes, I find Senses Fail to be quite relaxing.

Sounds.

Voiced sounds.

It looks like the guy across is talking to me.  His lips are moving.

Is he?

Yes, he is.

I take out my headphones and he wants to know if I’m okay,  as I was coughing while laying down.  He mentions that, “I’ve seen people die on this train.”

His tone of voice and his non-verbals are seeped in “hidden” distaste for me.  I ignore it, brush it off, and assure him I’m fine as I go back to Reddit.

15 minutes later I notice he is saying something again.

I take out my headphones to hear him.

By the way his mouth is moving and the look on his face, he doesn’t look happy.  This time he seemed VERY agitated about the way I was sitting. Apparently he thought I might be taking pictures of him with my phone, which I wasn’t.  I thought this odd considering how I was sitting and the direction I was facing.

He is now quite upset by the way I was laying down.

Again, he tells me that I am being rude.  How? My semi-open dangling legs were exposing my crotch to the Indian girl sitting several seats down and that was apparently very rude.

It was then that I realized I had been targeted.

He wasn’t going to let this go.  He was looking for a verbal confrontation and his cross-hairs had landed directly on me.

I sat up, took the initiative, and attempted to deflect and diffuse the verbal attacks.  I am a communications major after all.  Finally, perhaps I can see how well some of theories apply to real-world situations.

He’s in a half-rage mode; a strawman here and an angry passive-aggressive accusation there.  The anger and frustration in his voice is starting to build.   Conclusions and assumptions about me are landing left and right.

I’m taken back for a second. I was startled – almost confused.

What is this tumblr?  Okay, maybe that’s an exaggeration.  

Picture courtsey of http://baptistnews.com/
Picture courtsey of http://baptistnews.com/

Apparently I was some punk ass-kid/student from Chicago coming down here to get off at Libertyville station stop and I didn’t give a fuck about the other people on the train.  Perhaps it’s my “hipster look” that planted the seeds of wrath.  I prefer to think of it instead as well-groomed and well-dressed for my stature. 

I pointed out to him that NO ONE has ever objected to the way I’ve laid down before.

In fact,  it had NEVER happened before.  He was the first damn one.  I’m starting get irritated now with him and how this has all started.

He insists its a matter of being respectful. My inner philosopher ignites and I assume that he will have a post-modern framework for his concept on “respect” and as to what constitutes as my previous “rude” behavior.   I begin my philosophical adventure.

I proceeded to question him on how he knew what was “Respectful.”  He appeals to the way he was raised.  Interesting.   Apparently us young punks know nothing about respect – I secretly agree with him.

Further in the conversation reveals that he is basing his view of the concept on experience, tradition, and essentially his parents.   This actually creates in me some respect for him and it causes me to pause in my planned verbal retaliation.

I started trying to think to myself about why he was giving me such a hard time. It was a serious, “Dude, wtf?” moment of thought.   Should I stand up for myself and not put up with this crap?  Perhaps I wasn’t giving him a reason to respect me.

We were now at a point where  I suspected that other people were going to become involved as his tone of voice kept getting louder.

Great.

I wasn’t in the mood for this to escalate and as much as I enjoy uncomfortable situations, this was lacking the humorous and adventurous side  to it.  Also, I was hoping the conductors weren’t going to get involved, though I was certain they’d side with me.

No, I was going to fight my own battles.  That’s what a man does – when he can.

It was here the conversation turned.

I pointed out to him I lived in Fox Lake, I also told him about how I thought his age had nothing to do with whether I respected his opinions or not.  Living in Fox Lake meant that I wasn’t some spoiled rich yuppie from Libertyville who thinks that the world is my trash dump.

I ask a few questions meant to flush out what was bugging him – what had caused the initial simmer of suppressed rage inside him.  I knew there was more here than meant the eye.  No one flies off the handle over something so small…

Conversations like these – maybe not as heated at first as this one was – are something I live for.  They break up the routine of my day. I made the most out of this one and I’m glad I did, because I learned something. 

This fellow’s name was Jim.

I plied Jim for more about himself and he told me his back-story.   He’s a 53 year old micro-biologist who works his ass off to put his two of his three daughters through college. His marriage leaves much to be desired and “support” isn’t something he’s experienced in a while. He’s struggling financially, but fishing with his buddies at least gives him some reprieve.   Put blankly, he feels unfulfilled, confused, and somewhat jaded through life – a state of almost mental and emotional exhaustion.

Even though, my situation isn’t even close to his, I felt a kind of kinship for Jim – as man to man.   It’s no accident that I feel as I’ve met people just like him before with similar frustrations with life.

I feel a sense of sympathy for him.

During the rest of the ride and our conversation, he would apologize several times to me. Throughout the conversations, he would continue this regarding the initial assumptions he had made about me, but I told him not to worry about it.

“The past is the past,” I told him.   For the most part, that is a motto I live by.

Jim you see is a classic example of a guy going on through life who needs a chance to vent every once in a while, but doesn’t.  I don’t know if he’s ever really been given the chance, but I suspect he’s had this bottled up in him for a while.

It was the small action of the way I laid that set him off.  I had experienced my own WW1 spark in interpersonal conflict.

Jim is a good guy, but he’s been through a lot more than I would have thought.  . He tells me stories about how he’s been attacked and beat up in Fox Lake outside of bars.  Drinking sometimes has a steeper price than a hangover.

He was starting to see crime, drug deals around the Fox Lake train station and even right outside the Thortons nearby.  The realization of the scuminess of my town and that of humanity was getting to him. He emphasized that no one cared about what had happened to him or what was happening around.

That was what got me. No one cared about what he had seen, heard, and experienced so he never bothered to vent about it.    No support, he just kept it tightly wrapped and wound up.

What happened to Jim – just one action- that magnifies to a great extent the rest of what he has been feeling and seeing can happen to myself.

I literally told him when we got off the train, “There’s only so much a man can handle before he explodes.”  I’ll never forget the look on his face. It was one of gratitude and of shock in that he realized I understood him – despite our difference in age and situations.

                                    In every story and conversation there is a lesson.

 

All men out there need a time and a chance to vent.   This isn’t toxic masculinity; it’s the necessary expression of rage and anger that we are forced to keep a lid on.

This of course doesn’t change the fact that most men keep this rage, frustration, depression, and anger pent up.   Some have found ways to manage – the gym, 1st person shooters, sports, ect, but is it enough?  I suppose  these methods won’t get your a way that won’t get you arrested, hated, and in constant fights with your wife, but there must be more.

We all need friends – real friends – as an outlet and as support to  get things off your chest that no one else will understand or be able to hear.   Your wife, girlfriend, or effeminate therapist wont’ be able to console you in the same way that other men will.  These male friends can provide you with the wisdom that is gained from the experience of life, as well as the understanding of the vast challenges that men face in today’s culture.

They won’t BS you, but they will hear you out, and offer the necessary – if rough – advice that others won’t.  Reddit might be one way to do this, but face-to-face with close male friends is the best.  This isn’t homosexual, it’s simply men getting close with another and bonding over the challenges and quest that is life.

Get it all off your chest.

We all have pent up rage that builds. It’s a matter of fact of life. The people who explode are some how seen as terrible, immature, ect but the reality of life is that this is just a natural part of humanity.

Let it go.

Don’t be afraid to tell your friends what’s really on your mind.  Be yourself and I’m not saying that in a BS “feel good” cultural way.  Find and make close male friends who are willing to help you out and offer you solid wise advice.

Before we parted ways at the station, Jim told me he was glad the conversation happened.

I was too.

It was a raw unfiltered and genuine conversation that should happen between men more often.