An Analysis of the Demographics of Opinions on Abortion

I’ve noticed that I have a lot of friends with wildly ranging opinions on Abortion. This made me curious about the statistics. Here are some observations that I found interesting about the numbers:

  • More men in the United States are pro-choice than pro-life [1]
    • 46% pro-life, 48% pro-choice
  • All women over 30 years old are more pro-life than pro-choice [1]
    • Age 30 to 49 – 51% pro-life, 44% pro-choice
    • Age 50 to 64 – 54% pro-life, 41% pro-choice
    • Age 65+ – 56% pro-life, 36% pro-choice
  • Only women aged 18 to 29 are pro-choice
    • Age 18 to 29 – 33% pro-life, 62% pro-choice
  • From 1995 until 2019 more people have become pro-life [2]
    • 1995 – 33% pro-life, 56% pro-choice
    • 2019 – 49% pro-life, 46% pro-choice
  • Since 1995, women are the ones who have changed their opinions most [3]
    • 1995 – 41% pro-life, 56% pro-choice
    • 2019 – 51% pro-life, 43% pro-choice
  • Since 1995, men’s opinions spiked on pro-life in 2009 and again in 2001, but have leveled back off.
    • 1995 – 41% pro-life, 50% pro-choice
    • 2009 – 54% pro-life, 39% pro-choice
    • 2016 – 46% pro-life, 46% pro-choice
    • 2019 – 46% pro-life, 48% pro-choice
  • Men and women’s opinions seemed to somewhat correlate up until about 2011 or 2012
    • You can see a similar shape to the curves if you look closely up until 2011 or 2012
    • After 2011 or 2012, they seem to have no correlation whatsoever (very weird to me)
  • People who make under $40K or have no college are way more likely to be pro-life [1]
    • Earn under $40K/year – 59% pro-life, 34% pro-choice
    • No college 58% pro-life, 35% pro-choice

This data over time is really interesting to me. Here are some observations:

  • People’s opinions swing wildly depending on the year
  • The same 18 year men and women, who were pro-choice in 1995, have become become way more pro-life at age 43 in 2019
  • Coincidentally, Gallup publishes easy to access numbers back to 1995 when I first became politically aware
    • 1996 was the first year I could vote
    • I feel like I was lied to about what it means to be pro-choice or pro-life
    • I feel like propaganda really had an effect on my opinion in 1995

I do understand why pro-life people are mad about liberals wanting to fund abortion clinics in poor neighborhoods. It’s so easy to make the connection to Eugenics, Margaret Sanger and Planned Parenthood, given that poor people are overwhelmingly pro-life. Also, note that Democrats and liberals are overwhelmingly pro-choice (29% pro-life, 68% pro-choice). Seems impossible since they are the party of the poor right?

It’s pretty obvious to me that Third Way Democrats like Clinton in 1995 (coincidentally, when I became politically active) traded workers issues for social issues like abortion because the Unions couldn’t support the Democratic party anymore. The left has purposefully turned abortion into a wedge issue since they don’t have any financial or workers issues to leverage now days.

Like most things, my opinion is super nuanced on abortion. I’ll leave you with a thought experiment:

Imagine a family with a husband, a wife, and three little children aged 3, 5 and 7. The father is an engineer, the wife a nurse. They are a loving and happy family, until one day the wife goes to work for night shift. On her way to the building, tragically, she is attacked, and raped. She becomes pregnant, and both the husband and wife are horrified when they are in the bathroom doing the test. They cry together and hug.

Eight months later, the husband wakes up when the 5 year old comes in the room crying because of a bad dream. The father notices her belly rubbing up against him and can’t stop thinking about as he tries to calm his child down. The wife wakes up, and the five year old asks – Mommy, I thought you said that we weren’t going to have anymore brothers or sisters because daddy “was fixed?” The mother cringes with disgust, takes a breath to deal with the knowledge that was was violated, and struggles to explain it to her 5 year old daughter.

Eight years later, they are divorced, and the children have a lot of trouble accepting their brother from the rape. When the older kids are mad, they say things like “you’re going to grow up to be a rapist like your father!” – or “you’re the reason that our mom and dad got divorced!”

Or imagine that eight months later, the same family is happy with three children. The mother and father never tell the kids. They take it to their grave. Roe versus Wade was primarily decided based on privacy. Nobody has a right to know what happened or why the woman got an abortion.

[1]: https://news.gallup.com/poll/244709/pro-choice-pro-life-2018-demographic-tables.aspx

[2]: https://news.gallup.com/poll/1576/abortion.aspx

[3]: https://news.gallup.com/poll/245618/abortion-trends-gender.aspx

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My Covid-19 Training Routine

Over the past 3-4 years, the core of my training has centered around barbells, typically with some sort of undulating or linear progressions like a 5×5 or Wendler 5/3/1. Given that the gym is out of the question, while we are on quarantine, combined with the fact that we are preparing for a new baby, I just can’t build a home gym with barbells right now. I have fallen back to a training program that focuses on Calisthenics and pulls from the GoRuck training I did in 2019.

  1. Workout A: Focus on upper body. Typically done on Monday. Most of 1-5 can be done outside on warm days.
    1. 24 minute run to warm up
    2. 3×10 push-ups
    3. 3×8 push-ups with 40 lbs backpack
    4. 3×20 flutter kicks holding 40 lbs pack
    5. 3×20 sit-ups
    6. 3×5 Australian pull-ups with Perfect Pull-up bar unlatched
    7. 3×5 regular pull-ups
  2. Workout B: Focus on lower body. Typically done on Wednesday:
    1. .45 miles with 40 lbs pack
    2. .45 miles with 40lbs pack and 10 lbs kettlebell in one hand (alternating)
    3. .45 miles with 40 lbs pack and 50 lbs Jerry Can full of water
    4. .45 miles with 40 lbs pack and 60 lbs sandbag
    5. TBD .45 miles with 40 lbs pack and 120 lbs sandbag
    6. 3×10 kettlebell swings with 25 lbs
    7. 3×10 kettlebell swings with 35 lbs
    8. 3×20 one handed kettlebell swings with 35lbs (10 per arm)
  3. Workout C: Focus on upper body. Typically done on Monday. Most of 1-5 can be done outside on warm days.
    1. 24 minute run
    2. 3×10 push-ups
    3. 3×8 push-ups with 40 lbs backpack on
    4. 3×20 flutter kicks holding 40 lbs pack
    5. 3×20 sit-ups
    6. 3×12 reverse rows with 25 lbs kettlebell
    7. 3×12 reverse rows with 35 lbs kettlebell

Some Shortcomings

  • I’m coming back from being sick for about 3 weeks of March 2020, probably had Covid-19 (will find out when antibody testing becomes available)
    • I want to work up to sets of 5 to increase volume
    • I want to increase weight linearly, will use pack weight
  • I want to add some jump rope back in
  • I am limited to 35 lbs kettlebells because that’s all I have. I really wish I had 45 lbs, 55 lbs, and 65 lbs kettlebells
  • I want to build back up to carrying the 120 lbs sandbag on leg day
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The Ludicrous, Ridiculous, Nonsensical and Derisory Words List

I am a founding member of the secret group known only as Caos. It is known to some, that I am also a Black Belt Master of Mayhem. This invests me with a total of 16 votes, by myself, enough votes to codify this even if one or two of you don’t like it.

That said, this is a good list, a really good list, with a lot of great input from a lot of fantastic people. Tremendous people. People who are leaders in their field. Seriously. At least three people private messaged me today to tell me so. Really accomplished people. Very accomplished.

This list of words is magical. If any three or more of these words are mixed together in a single paragraph, or within two minutes of contiguous vocal communication, you are rejected.

  • United Nations
  • International Monetary Fund or its acronym IMF
  • World Health Organization (WHO)
  • Nazis
  • Deep State
  • New World Order
  • Federal Reserve
  • Lucifer or any other moniker referring to the Devil
  • Spirits
  • Homeopathy
  • Insulin Resistance
  • White Supremacist
  • Capitalist Cis Hetero-Patriarchy
  • Crisis Actor
  • Creationist
  • Wheat Belly
  • False Flag
  • Microaggression
  • Gluten Sensitive
  • 5g
  • Super Natural
  • Super Foods
  • Aliens
  • Military Industrial Complex
  • Microbiome
  • Any diet name (examples include Keto, Carnivore, South Beach, etc)
  • Illuminati
  • Free Mason or Mason
  • Globalist
  • Disarm America
  • Dangerous Vaccines
  • Heavy Metals
  • More to be added as necessary
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Book: Helmet for My Pillow – Veteran’s Day 2019

Hell of book to finish right before Veteran’s Day. So many good quotes:

– Nor was my squad troubled by racial or religious bigotry. We had no “inner conflict,” as the phrase goes. These things happen most often in the imagination of men who never fought. Only rear echelons with plenty of fat on them can afford such rich diseases, like an epicure with his gout.

– The man who has had it roughest is the man to be most admired. Conversely, he who has had it the easiest is the least praiseworthy.

– It is an American weakness. The success becomes the sage. Scientists counsel on civil liberty; comedians and actresses lead political rallies; athletes tell us what brand of cigarette to smoke.

– A soldier’s pack is like a woman’s purse: it is filled with his personality. I have saddened to see the mementos in the packs of dead Japanese. They had strong family ties, these smooth-faced men, and their packs were full of their families.

– Smell, the sense which somehow seems a joke, is the one most susceptible to outrage. It will give you no rest. One can close one’s eyes to ugliness or shield the ears from sound; but from a powerful smell there is no recourse but flight.

– Charlie did not kill many people, but, like Macbeth, he murdered sleep.

– This was no feeling of dedication because it was absolutely involuntary. I do not doubt that if the Marines had asked for volunteers for an impossible campaign such as Guadalcanal, almost everyone now fighting would have stepped forward. But that is sacrifice; that is voluntary. Being expended robs you of the exultation, the self-abnegation, the absolute freedom of self-sacrifice. Being expended puts one in the role of victim rather than sacrificer, and there is always something begrudging in this.

– upon that change he passes over to the ranks of the Old Salts and ceases to be a Boot forever. Youth rebels and age conserves; between them, they advance. The Marines will cease to win battles the moment either camp achieves clear-cut ascendancy.

– when a map and a compass come into contact with a second lieutenant, prepare yourself for confusion.

– My eyes having adjusted to the gloom, I found myself in a room about twenty feet by fifteen, into which a murky light sneaked through a rectangle of thick glass high in one wall.

– We devoured the food. What a banquet! Here was the lowly hot dog, but it was spiced with risk, flavored with prohibition and washed down with the nectar of a watering mouth.

– Keep it up, America, keep telling your youth that mud and danger are fit only for intellectual pigs.

– Naval shells hissed shoreward in the air above us. Those of us who had been on Guadalcanal, remembering our own ordeal with naval bombardment, could spare a pang of pity for the foe—

– I turned to go, and as I did, nearly stepped on someone’s hand. “Excuse me,” I began to say, but then I saw that it was an unattached hand, or rather a detached one. It lay there alone— open, palm upwards, clean, capable, solitary. I could not tear my eyes from it. The hand is the artisan of the soul. It is the second member of the human trinity of head and hand and heart. A man has no faculty more human than his hand, none more beautiful nor expressive nor productive. To see this hand lying alone, as though contemptuously cast aside, no longer a part of a man, no longer his help, was to see war in all its wantonness; it was to see the especially brutal savagery of our own technique of rending, and it was to see men at their eternal worst, turning upon one another, tearing one another, clawing at their own innards with the maniacal fury of the pride- possessed. The hand saddened me and I offered it a respectful inclination of the head while recovering my balance and making a careful circle around it.

– Racehorse drew his pistol and laid it against the driver’s head and said, “Get youah ass moving,” and the driver quickly shifted gears and drove frontward with a roar. Racehorse had won a Navy Cross for his bravery on Guadalcanal. He won another on Peleliu, but it was awarded posthumously. He perished attacking a pillbox, may he rest in peace.

– Rutherford had said, “See you in the old home town.” But now I would go home alone. May he rest in peace.

– Heroes turn traitor, warriors age and grow soft— but a victim is changeless, sacrifice is eternal.

– now pray in the name of Chuckler and Hoosier and Runner, in the name of Smoothface, Gentleman, Amish and Oakstump, Ivy- League and Big- Picture, in the name of all those who suffered in the jungles and on the beaches, from Anzio to Normandy— and in the name of the immolated: of Texan, Rutherford, Chicken, Loudmouth, of the Artist and White- Man, Souvenirs and Racehorse, Dreadnought and Commando— of all these and the others, dear Father, forgive us for that awful cloud.

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Helmet_for_My_Pillow?wprov=sfla1

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Cookie: Sammy Had a Plan

The year was 1984, and I went to 4th grade at McEbright Elementary School in Akron Ohio, the failed Rubber Capital of the world. It was a lovely old, inner city school around the corner from the Summit county jail. This was the third inner city grade school I had attended, so I felt fine there. I had a lot of good friends. We used to hang out in the front yard doing ninja flips, wrestling around, and playing with Transformers. We loved playing with Transformers, we would even trade them. My best friend was this stocky little black kid named Sammy, and we also had this other skinny black kid in our group that hung out all the time (sadly, I can’t remember his name anymore). It was us two skinny dudes, and Sammy hanging out all the time. Sammy was kind of the leader of our little crew. We were lal kind of weirdos and used love to sprint as fast as we could, I mean full out sprints. It was a blast when you’re a kid. I used to love hanging out with them and things were going pretty good. That is, until I had a run in with Chris Calise.

Chris Calise was kinda like the bully from the movie Christmas Story. He was brown haired white kid d always had his idea kick Marc with him. And, needless to say Chris and his side kick didn’t like me. In inner city schools like this, often it’s just a social hierarchy game. Everyone is looking to climb the social ladder with the only capital they have access to, social status. You might call it Lord of the Flies in an inner city school. Apparently, he thought I should show deference to him as king of the white kids. Well, I wasn’t really into deferring to people or submitting to them, so Chris didn’t like me.

One day, Sammy and I were running around the playground at school during lunch, playing our usual game of sprinting and running. Kids were everywhere, and we used to love running in between them, jumping up on the railroad ties, and jumping off. We were basically doing little kid missions. While running around with Sammy, I noticed Chris Calise glaring at us, especially me. Whenever I was with Sammy, I was never too worried about Chris starting a fight with me, because I knew Sammy would back me up. But, I wasn’t prepared for what happened next. We were sprinting in between a bunch of kids, and lo and behold, I felt someone trip me. I mean, we were sprinting full speed, and they tripped me good. I was airboard, face first, flying through the air like Superman. I put my arms out, but still landed on my nose, at a 45 degree angle with my legs above my head. It felt like I slid a couple of feet. There was blood everywhere, and all in my eyes. I could barely see. I had never felt a pain that bad in my life. I didn’t see it coming at all, and I had no idea who did it.

They rushed me to the school nurse, and tried to put bandages on it to stop the bleeding. It stung bad, I mean really bad. There were ven It’s of asphalt in the wound. They didn’t take me to the hospital, but by the time it stopped bleeding, I had this giant, black scab on my nose that looked like one of those Roman helmets with the piece of metal that comes down over your nose. I had that scab on my nose for a weeks. Parts would come off, and then it would bleed again, and the scab would form again. It was bad and I had scars for years. While I healed, I tried to figure out if it was Chris Calise or one of his buddies. I was pretty sure it was, but nobody admitted to doing it. They obviously would have gotten in trouble. Every single kid in the school knew who I was after that incident. Chris Calise and his friends would laugh and point at the crazy scab on my nose.

Well a few months later, I was healed up and pretty much back to normal. I was back to playing with Transformers, doing flips in the front yard, running and sprinting with Sammy and the gang. It wasn’t long until things flared up with Chris and Marc again. This time, they wanted to fight me and they had a group of three or four kids. Everyday at school it escalated, but weren’t brave enough to do it at school. They threatened to get me after school. Since they had three or four kids even Sammy was a bit worried.

Sammy offered to have me walk part of the way home with him and his brother. His brother and his brother’s friends offered impenetrable protection because they were in 6th grade and way bigger than us. Sammy and his brother’s house wasn’t exactly by me so they would only be able get me about half way home. His brother and friends didn’t feel like walking out of their way and all the way back to save a little brother’s friend’s hide.

It was better than nothing because it got us away from the school a good bit, but I still had to part with Sammy’s crew and walk down this one street alone. Sammy and I brain stormed this logistics problem up and down. Sammy thought about escorting me solo, but then they would have ganged up on Sammy on his way back. So, Sammy came up with another plan.

The next day, he shows up at school with this round metal pipe plug. He hands it to me and says “put this in your backpack, and if they corner you, just swing your bag and hit one of them in the head.” This piece of metal must have weighed 5lbs, and the idea was that it would split one of their heads open and end the fight by scaring the other three kids. Of course, I don’t want to look weak, so I took it, said “OK” and put it in my bag.

The whole day, I had that metal thing in my backpack. It was old, and looked like it had been painted red and buried at some point. I visualized hitting Chris in the head with it and realized that if I actually succeed, he might die. I hated him, but I didn’t want to murder him. But, it was the best plan that two 9 year olds in the ghetto could come up with, so we executed. After school that day, I walked about half way home with Sammy, his brother and friends. When it was time for me to leave them, Sammy and I solemnly said goodbye. I headed off by myself. I was scared as hell. I was worried I might kill the kid, I was worried they might take it away from me and kill me with it. I started my journey like a deer in the wild, knowing I could be under observation by a pack of predators. I looked around like crazy, and ran most of the way home. Luckily, Chris and his crew are nowhere to be found. Day one was a success.

Days and weeks passed. I carried that piece of metal in my backpack and I never told my mom, any teachers or anyone else really. It was Sammy and my secret weapon. I visualized hitting Chris in the head with that piece of metal hundreds of times. A few times after school and on weekends, Chris and his crew got close to catching me on the way home, but I always outsmarted them, or out ran them. During those weeks Sammy and I didn’t really ride around the neighborhood or play in my front yard. It sucked living in fear like that.

Finally, the heat died down and it returned to Chris and Marc just talking trash. We never ended up hitting anybody with that piece of metal but I was ready to. I kept it for years and years. Every time we would move, I would find it tucked away in some drawer, or some box.

I miss Sammy. He was a good dude. I think back and who the hell knows what happened to him. Could be in jail, or he could be a doctor, I have no idea. I have another great story with Sammy which I’ll share in a future cookie.

That crazy scab, and our preparedness with that piece of metal are another cookie in my cookie jar.

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My Theory on the Electoral College

People think the electoral college failed in the 2016, so now they want to get rid of it. Correlation, is not the same thing as causation. What if it was something else that failed? If we saw a car crash, and the airbag failed to save someone’s life, would we argue to get rid of airbags? Just because a failsafe fails in one particular situation does not mean that the fail safe is not doing it’s job. Instead, I would argue that the problem is we need more than just the Electoral College as a fail safe. Here’s why…

In Jim Whitehurst gave a Ted Talk, Economics of The Information Revolution, he outlines three major epochs in the modern economy and which people were able to extract the most value. I will quickly summarize:

1. History of Humanity – 1800s – Land. Land mapped directly to power. The more land, the more food you had, the money you had, the more power you had, the more people you controlled. It was a direct mapping between land and power. The electoral college worked well because coincidentally, it also mapped to land. This meant that land holders balanced each other’s power out.

2. 1800s – 1980s – Manufacturing usrups land. Things changed with manufacturing because land became less important than machines. The machines that extracted food from the land became the most valuable assets. The more manufacturing you had, the more power you had. Selling tractors and cars, Henry Ford and friends indirectly extracted more value from the land in that short period of time than had ever been done before. The electoral college didn’t keep up nor help balance this shift in power. Instead, the unions eventually formed and things balanced out after a painful journey.

3. 1980s – Now – Information usurps manufacturing. With the age of information, the machines that extract food are now mostly a commodity, but the information on where food will grow, which food will grow best, how to prevent disease, and how to genetically modify the food is the most valuable asset. This information is wildly more valuable than the tractors. Owners of the information are the ones who extract the most value from the economy. The electoral college and unions can mitigate this power imbalance. Facebook, Twitter, Monsanto and others leading the information economy are extracting the most value, and essentially have nothing to balance that power.

The irony of this whole debate with is that the people with the “information” are the ones setting up this straw man against the Electoral College. We dont’ need to get rid of the Electoral College, we need the new thing that helps prevent HUGE imbalances of information. Some people are rambling on about it, including me, but none of us seem to have the answers. Hence, Zuckerburg (Facebook) is going to propose is “own” business friendly regulation to mitigate the threat of an Information College. He feels no guilt about this because he figures he’s as good/bad of a person as anyone and he might not be all that wrong.

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The Will to Survive

The Will to Survive

We recently saw a black, mangy bird with one leg at a gas station on our way back to Savannah Georgia. It had that wild, crazy look. One of it’s eyes was hazy and it’s feathers were missing in places. It was hard to look at, but it was alive and it wasn’t giving up.

It came up to the car begging for food and my girlfriend told me there’s a bird withbonenleg as she fed it. I strained my neck to look out past her through the passenger window. As soon as I saw how bad of shape it was in, I told her to give it french fries because they are more calorie dense, and it definitely needed as many as it could get.

She had a hard time throwing the food only to that bird, because other healthy birds kept flying in. I think she got it some food, but it flew away and we lost track of it. We waited a few minutes, but had to leave and get to then airport. I felt a twinge of guilt for not waiting a bit longer.

It made me think a lot about life. I felt sad for the bird, but also kind of proud. It was crafty hanging out at a gas station, relying on primates to give it food. I loved it’s fighting spirit, literally a life and death struggle, barely hanging on. It’s strange how we all know when another animal is distressed, not quite achieving homeostasis.

We are all barely hanging on…

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