The Sham

Hey, look everybody, Bill Clinton’s coming to town. Let’s turn off our brains and participate in the sham.

One of the neatest tricks in politics occurs when former Presidents get out there on the stump for candidates currently running for political office.

Bill Clinton is coming to a town near me.

Barack Obama may be coming to a town near you.

It’s not just Democrats though; Republicans will play the same game.

So, when you see these politicians getting out there, it’s only natural for you to believe that the elections are real and that the elections matter.

Otherwise, if the whole game was rigged, why would they be out there?

I’ll give you a couple of reasons.

Number one, they have to continue the sham that your vote matters. If the sham is exposed as a sham, they would have to change the system. This they do not want to do. They are making too much money by it.

Number two, they don’t give a damn about your vote; they only care that their faction of the corporate gang gets to divvy up the perks.

What they’re saying is this: If our party wins, we get 2/3 of the perks. If the other party wins we only get 1/3.

Either way you the American people lose.

The government always gets in power.

It’s a gentleman’s agreement between the two parties.

Democracy is a sham.

It only exists to give you the illusion that you have a choice.

Unfortunately, you don’t have any choice at all because they’re both going to rip off the system, promote war as an economic model, and continue exploitation of workers abroad.

Hello, suckers!

You know this to be true in your guts.

You are in denial.

You are furiously pumping yourself up with slogans.

Consequently, there is this force that draws you to vote.

It is an inexorable force.

You say to your self: If I don’t vote, I can’t complain, and I can’t have any opportunity to change things.

Here’s a ticket on the clue train: You can complain, and even if you do vote, you won’t change things.

There are other ways to change the world.

Don’t get suckered into thinking that the only way is through politics.

You can change yourself by having a measure of self-respect.

Stop disrespecting yourself by participating in a sham.

Actually the elections have been shams since the day democracy was invented.

Over 200 years ago Napoleon and his brothers rigged plebiscites in France. Naturally they would win. They were so brazen they would rig the votes with even numbers. So Napoleon would win the elections by 16,000,000 to 4,000,000.

Talk about comedy!

The comedic act continued its roadshow into the United States during the last election of Joe Biden.

No serious person could possibly believe that a man sitting in his bunker, a man who had not energized his base, could possibly win.

I can tell you a stone cold fact. The success, as defined by turnout, of every party that I have hosted at my house or office has been directly correlated to the amount of energy that I put into promoting the party.

When you promote yourself, you have a greater chance of success. When you don’t promote yourself, you lessen your chance of success.

Joe Biden energized nobody in the 2020 election. He was not out there on the stump to any significant degree. His opponent, Donald Trump, no matter how much you detest him (and I do), did go out on the stump, and he did energize his base.

And yet, we are told that Joe Biden won the election.

That does not comport with reality or anything in my own experience.

The purpose of this letter is not to justify the illegitimacy of the 2020 election. The purpose of this letter is to demonstrate that democracy is a sham.

The elites figured out a long time ago how to rig the elections.

As Mark Twain stated over a century ago: If voting mattered they’d never let us do it.

Elections don’t matter, and they don’t care.

You won’t change a damn thing by voting.

The politicians didn’t go into politics to do what you want; they went into politics to do what they want.

They don’t see themselves as servants of the people; they see themselves as rulers of the people.

I don’t care what the Constitution says. I don’t care about the way it’s supposed to be.

That’s not cynicism; that’s hard earned reality.

Now, there’s an argument to be made that at least voting gives you the opportunity to change things.

That would be true only as long as the political class cared about you.

But when the political class has been hijacked by a Harvard Cabal that considers its own interests and its own immortality first, a place where noblesse oblige does not exist, that representation is not possible.

And that is the state of affairs in the United States today.

Sincerely,

Archer Crosley

Copyright 2022 Archer Crosley All Rights Reserved

Residency Letter

A little prologue might be necessary.  Between 1980 and 1981, Jenny Jamison, an LVN, was alleged to have murdered children at Lion County Hospital in Pleasantville.  She allegedly carried her spree to the nearby town of New Heidelberg where she worked in the pediatric office of Dr. Nancy Germany.  

Everything in this letter is true in the way I remember it.  I changed the names to protect myself from the guilty.  I’m sure if you dig deep enough you can figure it out.

* * *

This letter has been a long time coming.  I don’t want to relive old memories; I’ve already done that, and it’s too painful.  Nor do I want this epistle to devolve into a loathing, self-pitying screed, which it inevitably must or else you won’t get the point; it’s just that I think you should know a few things.

First, I was almost there.  I missed it by one year, but I know enough and felt enough to understand the situation.

The year was 1982, July 1st of 1982, to be specific, and I was beginning my pediatric residency at Lion County Hospital.

Pediatrics was not my first choice; it was something I fell into.  I thought I wanted to be an emergency room physician, but God had other plans for me.

Since I didn’t match in emergency medicine, I could choose any program anywhere in United States. So, I figured, if I can’t do what I want to do, I may as well live where I want to live. 

Because I lived in Mexico for two and a half years, where I was going to medical school, I had  traveled through Pleasantville on my way back to Philadelphia where I had grown up.

The clean look of the city had appealed to me.

After doing my first years of medical school at the UDEM in Monterrey, the remaining medical school years in Kansas City, Kansas, and having suffered the brutal winters there, I decided warmer weather was for me.  

When I saw that a spot was open in Pediatrics in Pleasantville, I took it.

Quite frankly, I couldn’t have cared less if I ever saw a snowflake again. I grew up shoveling driveways.

So I wanted to come to Pleasantville.  I loved the city as much then as I do today.  My dentist is still there, and I like to visit from McAllen where I live today.

After having lived in P-Ville for thirteen years,  from 1982-1994, I am an official visitor there now.

As for living there?  No, I’ll never do that again. For while I liked the city, the city didn’t like me back.

Truthfully, much of it was my fault. I had an attitude problem.  I still do but only for abusers.  

After my grueling experience living in Mexico, the ritual beatings and humiliations in medical school at KU, leaving scars that I’m sure many fellow physicians share, I wasn’t in the mood to take any guff let alone snide commentary from some unenlightened, rude professor. You see, the worst they could do to me was fire me. So what? They couldn’t take away my medical degree.  

Besides, they had the deal of a lifetime.  For working eighty to one-hundred hours per week for fifty weeks a year, I received, drumroll, $13,400 a year.  I was making less than minimum wage, but I thought I was rich.

Graduating from medical school is like being an adolescent again. You have a little power, and you think you’re some somebody, but you’re really not.

I thought I was somebody. The professors soon let me know that I was not.  

I suppose some people have a natural ability to take abuse and smile; I was not born with that ability.  I was ready to fight back and let them know what I thought. I had plenty of opportunity to do that.

Let me begin first by saying that there are two divisions within patient care in a residency program. Inpatient and outpatient.

Outpatient medicine for me was like a dream come true. The work was hard and rigorous, but I enjoyed it. The professors were excellent.  People like  Billy Canada and Vickie Visigoth were patient and helpful. They were firm but fair. They were never cruel.  Debbie O’Reilly’s voice annoyed me but she was never as confrontational to me as I was to her.

It’s too bad as much cannot be said for the inpatient doctors, particularly those who work the ICUs.  Surgeons aside, intensivists and cardiologists have generally fancied themselves the supermen of medicine.  I suppose bold action rather than prevention confers upon the healer a sense of omnipotence and pride.

These traits were not lost on Doug Blade who ran the PICU.  Doug Blade, you may recall, was the man who ran the PICU during Jenny Jamison’s, should I say alleged, reign of terror in 1981, one year before I began my residency.  I did not know Jenny Jamison, nor did I work with her, but I worked with many residents and nurses who had.

The Jenny Jamison incident was spoken of vaguely when I was an intern.  I learned what had generally happened, the deaths at the PICU, and the events in New Heidelberg under Dr. Nancy Germany.  I once asked a nurse who had worked with Jenny if she felt Jenny had committed these alleged murders, and the nurse nodded while replying with a roll of the eyes, “Oh, yeah, she did it.”

One of my professors told me that after the deaths in the PICU a consultant was brought in to evaluate the program and the PICU.  The professor vaguely hinted that the consultants felt that Dr. Blade had contributed to the climate which enabled Jenny to carry out her crimes.  Beyond this I heard little. 

Of course I didn’t need a professor’s off-the-cuff opinion to think that there might be substance to this.  I had felt it.

A few months ago I mustered the strength to review the articles that had been written about the Jenny Jamison incident.  I was surprised how many professors, residents and nurses I remembered.  They were all there as if it were 1982 all over again.  I couldn’t read too much though; too much would be too dangerous to my soul.  I had been unsuccessfully trying to forget those years; there isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think about the abuse that Doug Blade and others doled out. 

Words about Dr. Blade’s rounds don’t quite capture the terror.  

The PICU in those days was a very small ship physically; rounds were in the early morning, so it was usually dark giving the unit a claustrophobic feel.  Contributing to the closed-in ambience was the seemingly huge number of people attending the event; and it was usually sold out.  If I said the event was sitting room only, you might get the wrong impression.  Because the unit was so confined, extra attendees would sit in the center of the nurse’s station.  There was no more room to stand.  People who had no reason to be there at all, allergy fellows like Bill Bug and Dave Roach, were there nearly every day to watch and enjoy the bloodletting.  I called them Blade’s Dobermans.  Tension was so thick you could grab a piece from the air.  When a doctor presented, a dreaded dead calm projected itself; you could hear a pin drop.

What kind of individual, save a sadist, would come back for a repeat performance?  You didn’t feel uncomfortable for just yourself but also for others who were being skewered.

It was a circus, and Doug Blade was its ringmaster.  Doug Blade not only inflicted wounds; in my opinion, he enjoyed it.  He reminded me of Trevor Howard as Captain Bligh in Mutiny on the Bounty.  Cruelty with a purpose.

Suzy Disciple, a physician who was doing her fellowship, would affectionately refer to Dr. Blade as Dougbo.  Suzy was evidently one of Dougbo’s supporters.

Well, I’m sure Dougbo thought he was giving tough love, helping doctors be better doctors.  And if he thought that, he wouldn’t be alone; there are far too many professors who buy him into this flawed philosophy of teaching.  It seemed to be an endemic problem in the Pleasantville pediatric program.  Doug Blade was not alone.  Professor Johnny Bullman was a fellow believer in Dougbo’s tactics. He twice humiliated me in front of a group of people.  Another professor, Larry Flowers, a know-it-all cardiologist, upset and embarrassed that one of his patients crashed the night before he told the parents the child was to go home, specifically invited me into an ambush in the PICU.  Great men like Dr. Flowers can not possibly accept responsibility.  This is the same Larry Flowers who as my supposed mentor during my elective in the PICU spent not one minute teaching me anything about cardiology; and I’m being generous when I state one minute. 

To the best of my knowledge, Larry Flowers was not working in the PICU when Jenny Jamison was doing her thing. 

Larry Flowers was what I call a guest educator.  He was in private practice but evidently felt that he had enormous gifts to bestow upon medical residents.  Thanks but no thanks.  So sure was he of his prodigious gifts that he took it upon himself to counsel me one day.  He said to me:  “I hear you want to go into emergency medicine.  That’s the wrong field for you.  You need to go into research.”  Thanks, Larry. How long have you known me?  Did you spend any time with me, Larry?  Did you teach me anything?

Such a genius.

Okay, Larry, I get it.  I had a tough time with pediatric cardiology; but so do many students and residents as evidenced by the fact that so many of you pediatric cardiologists keep writing books trying – unsuccessfully – to explain it.

If you think my experience is unique, you are most decidedly incorrect.  As a medical student at KU, I did a one month preceptorship in a small town in Kansas.  One day my preceptor, we’ll call him Dr. Kind, related a  story of a humiliation he had received from one of his professors at least a decade earlier.  He told the story as if it had happened the day before.  Evidently the scars ran deep.  I must say that I couldn’t relate at the time because I myself had not been whipped sufficiently by a medical cat-of-nine-tails, but I was learning.  Indeed, on those days, I was always a bit mirthful.  “Why are you always smiling,” one classmate asked me.  “I don’t know,” I responded.  What I should have said was this:  “Because I haven’t had the shit beat out of me by ignorant professors who don’t bother to do their job.”  

Years later I discovered that Dr. Kind, who had been suffering from psychiatric problems, had given up his license. I wasn’t surprised.

I can’t speak for how residency programs are run these days, but in 1982 it was the blind leading the blind.  The professor was rarely there; most of his or her time was spent in a lab.  But why would that be?  To understand  we have to look back at how medicine evolved.

The best way to do that is to tell you about the day my father died.  He died on the kitchen floor in front of me.

I don’t need to give you every detail.  It was a Wednesday in late August, the 21st if you must know, and the year was 1968.  He came home from work and collapsed on the kitchen floor.  I was siting right next to him as we waited for the ambulance.  They came and put oxygen on him; that was it; that was state-of-the-art emergency medical care in 1968.  The ambulance looked stylish, though.  It was red and white, shaped like a hearse and had fins.  I have to believe that Henry Ford got together with the medical leaders and concluded:  “Well, since we can’t do shit for the patients, we may as well look good.  Let’s build stylish ambulances.”  And they did.  They were beautiful, nonfunctional and appropriate for the 1960s.

Ambulances with fins?

Let us flash forward 15 years, and the year is 1982. I’m in an ambulance, speeding up the highway to Lion County Hospital.  The ambulance looks like a small truck, what your modern ambulance looks like today, and we can do IVs, intubate, give epinephrine, do CPR and any other number of things.  

In fifteen years medicine had changed dramatically.   What we could now do was miraculous.  The complexity of medicine had exploded.

In the first part of the 1900s a doctor would be stressed out because there was little he could do for a dying patient save hold his or her hand.  In the latter part of the century a doctor became stressed out because he could do things.  With progress comes demand and expectation.

A doctor was no longer asked to help; he was expected to save lives.  Failure was not an option.  The technology had advanced immeasurably.

What didn’t change in those fifteen years between 1968 and 1982 was the basic structure of the residency program.  Residents were so named because they resided in the hospital.  The professors came during the day and went home at night.  The resident worked all day and all night and got sleep when he could.  As medicine advanced, due to a massive influx of government money, much of the professors time became invested in research rather than education.  Residents were expected to do the bulk of the work, then and now.  What became different and mandated a change, in this author’s view, was the complexity that high-tech devices introduced into medicine.

It would no longer be acceptable for a resident to work with little sleep.  The technology and greater expectations of preserving life mandated that change.  Sadly, no change was forthcoming.  Even bus drivers knew better.  I knew that because I traveled by bus when I attended medical school in Mexico.  You get to know the bus driver when you spend forty hours on a bus.  Did you know they can’t drive more than eight hours per day?  See if your genius academic knows that. How could he?  He’s too busy looking at himself in the mirror imagining himself holding up his Presidential Medal of Freedom.  Or he’s oiling up his cat-of-nine-tails.

Additionally, it would not suffice anymore for a professor to sit at home and then come in screaming the next day.  This was the standard methodology for teaching in the early 1900s.  It was akin to whipping a horse to get it to run better.

Professors, particularly surgeons, reveled in their ability to debase.  The stories told of these men are legend.  Compounding this was the machismo of the profession itself. 

Machismo is cultivated religiously in medicine.  Never admit you’re wrong.  Pretend that you know it all.  Never ask a stupid question.  These are wrong traits to promote, and it is the structure of group rounds itself that contributes to this.  Roundsmanship is valued in healthcare.  The professors encourage it by insisting on group rounds.  Group rounds suits their ego well.  I suppose they imagine themselves as a weird fusion of Aristotle and George Patton walking down the halls, their robes flowing as they dispense pearls of wisdom.  The problem is that the pearls are in short supply while the insults are plentiful. 

The problem with insults is that they hurt, and they are of little value.  The idea is to stimulate the student to learn much as George Patton thought he could make that shell-shocked soldier in Italy better by slapping him.  It’s an errant methodology without one ounce of support or evidence.

As they were doling out their beatings through flippant remarks such as, “I would expect someone at your level to know this,” I wondered why these professors who took so much care in their research cared so little when delivering their meritless comments and evaluations.

Since they were rarely there on the ward, they had no no idea who was working and who was not.  They had no idea who was Machiavellian and who was not.  They had no idea who was an ace bullshitter and who was not.  Consequently, their evaluations were without value.

It occurred to me early on in my training that none of them had been trained in the psychology of teaching, and even fewer cared.  For example, suppose Person A with an insecure personality admits he doesn’t know at a knowledge index of 90 (out of 100), whereas Person B with a superiority complex admits he doesn’t know at a knowledge index of 25.  Person A will always appear to be the stupid one.  Are the professors aware of this?  Do they care?  Not in my experience.

This was what rounds were like in the year 1982.  I have no reason to believe that things have changed.  It was a humiliating experience.  And it was so unnecessary, for none of those beatings made me a better doctor.  Everything I can do well in medicine is because someone gave some personal attention to patiently explain things.  Everything I can’t do well is because some professor thought screaming and insults were a superior method of education.

***

Many years after I finished my residency, a friend remarked to me that it was a shame that doctors didn’t get any education in finance while in medical school.  Putting aside the harsh reality that medicine and moneymaking don’t always mix, I replied, “Well, first they have to teach us medicine.”  Okay, gratuitous insult acknowledged.

I think this would be the opportune time to ease your burden of these unfortunate truths I am laying upon you.  Truth hurts, I know.

You see, the professor does not have the time to either educate or evaluate properly.  I came to realize this early in my career while at KU.  I had just arrived back in the United States in January of 1980.  My first rotation was in Pediatrics.  The first two weeks went fairly well.  The next two weeks were spent at an outpatient clinic in Kansas City.  At the beginning of the rotation, I was told by the Associate Dean that I would need to get the school an official copy of my full transcripts from the UDEM in Mexico. Without those transcripts I would not be able to graduate.  The problem I was facing was that the government of Mexico had passed a law forbidding the release of transcripts for foreign medical students until a course in Mexican History and Geography had been passed.  It was a test a third-grader would take.

This test was a good idea – I think Americans should learn about other countries, especially the ones in which they go to school – but it was a hindrance to my progress.  I needed those transcripts.  It just so happened that the UDEM was giving this particular test on the last Friday of my rotation at the outpatient clinic.  So, staring reality in the face, I informed my professor in Pediatrics that I needed to take this test.  I asked her if this was okay, and she responded in the affirmative.

I drove  –  I was poor – twenty-four hours from Kansas City to Monterrey, Mexico, pretty much non-stop.  I left on a Wednesday morning and arrived one day later.  I had one day to study for the test.  It was quite a test. I had to know the states of Mexico, their capitals and their chief exports.  I also had to know the important people in Mexican history and, of course, El Padre de la Independencia.  That would be Miguel Hidalgo.  I will never forget that fact.  

I passed the test, got my transcripts and left Mexico a few hours later.  I arrived back on Sunday.  This time I stopped to rest. On Monday morning, the Associate Dean called me into his office. He showed me the evaluation that my professor, the one who had given me permission to leave, had written. The evaluation was laced with scores of 2s and 3s out of 10.  She wrote specifically that I had taken off to go “gallivanting around Mexico.”

Yeah, I even took in a bullfight.  Me, Ernest and John Dos Passos.

After thinking about the evaluation, I realized that with the scores she had given me it would be near impossible to pass the Pediatric rotation – there was still one month left to go.  I had to make a strategic decision.  I decided to withdraw and take some time off.

During that sabbatical, a professor, who was supposed to be my mentor, tried to convince me that I had emotional problems; he wanted me to join his support group.  When I replied that he was not a psychiatrist, but an endocrinologist, and therefore not qualified to make such an assessment, he became upset and called me a loser.  I had never been called a loser before, and that night was when I began to question labels and their value.  

I might have lost it completely, and I did, sort of.  I wept, I admit it.  I probably would have quit right then and there, but, you see, there are good people in the world.  Prior to my decision to withdraw, I had spoken to the Dean of the Medical School.  His name was James Lowman, and he came from a regular school.  Prior to a student withdrawing, the Dean likes to hear you out; and so I told him everything that was going on.  I told him that I had just moved to Kansas City three weeks ago and that I was still living in the Holliday Inn.   

Dr. Lowman patiently listened to me and then asked me one question:  “What’s your support system here?”

“What do you mean,” I replied.

Dr Lowman: “Well, your family?  Do you have any family here?  Any friends?”

I shook my head in silence.  

When I walked out of the Dean’s office, I knew that Dr. Lowman had taught me everything I needed to know to be a good doctor and that, with all due respect, there wasn’t anything KU or any other university could teach me that was more important than what he taught me in that brief conversation.

You have to listen to people and ask the right questions.

* * *

I remember well the immediate days before Doug  Blade left Pleasantville.  They had a farewell party for him on the ward, and I was dragged to that party by Suzy Disciple.  “Come on,” she said.

Reluctantly I went.  

To tell you the truth, his farewell party was three years too late.  He should have been fired the first day he humiliated a resident on rounds.  

He had admirers, though, and still does today.  Don’t kid yourself if you believe otherwise.  Many doctors, I suspect, have internally justified his abuse and the abuse of others. “He made me a better doctor,” they might feebly say.  I doubt that, but these doctors are there, and they repeat this unsupported nonsense. I can assure you this false belief exists today.

I met Nancy Germany once around 1987.  She was covering the nursery at Santa Cora and had come down to the ER to help me with a difficult intubation. I never spoke to her about Jenny Jamison; it wasn’t my place.

After reading the old issues of Texas Monthly, though, I found it intriguing that it was Doug Blade who told Nancy Germany to not hire Jenny Jamison.  Others had seen no problem. So why did Nancy Germany not listen to Dougbo if she thought highly enough of him to solicit his advice.  After all, Dougbo was the King of Pediatrics.  What gives?

I’d be willing to bet that Nancy Germany herself was psychologically abused by Doug Blade when she was a resident at Lion County Hospital and had rejected his advice out of a subconscious resentment of having been so abused.

Perhaps not, but the phenomenon exists and helps illustrate why abusers make such poor and effective leaders.  The toxins they spill clouds people’s optimal functioning and better judgment. A toxic environment then multiplies upon itself.

A toxic environment is what existed in Pleasantville in 1982.  It wasn’t just Doug Blade.  As I say there were many others who were of his mindset and who acted similarly.  If they didn’t act as badly as him, they certainly looked the other way. 

What about professors like Johnny Bullman who, by the way, was my attending physician when Dougbo was abusing me in the unit?  Dr. Bullman did try to help me by teaching me to present patients better, but what he should have done was stop Dougbo from “teaching”.  What about the Pharm D. professors?  One of them was there nearly every day.  How about the chairman of the department?  There were many others.  They witnessed this carnage for three years?  Did they say anything?  Did they do anything?  They should have known better.

I had to laugh when I read in Texas Monthly that Bryce Prince, the cardiovascular surgeon at Lion County Hospital, was upset at the deaths in the unit.  Well, you were there, Bryce.  You saw what was going on.  You saw how Dougbo ran his rounds.  What did you expect?  Why didn’t you speak up?  If you weren’t aware that abuse and humiliation demoralizes a unit, then you shouldn’t have been in your position in the first place.

The reason why none of these doctors spoke up was because they had too had suffered or seen abuse when they were residents; they had come to accept it as normal.

It was this tense environment which emboldened Jenny Jamison to make her move, to appear the hero. Perhaps she became addicted to stress; or perhaps she felt the need to enhance her own prestige.  After all, a hierarchical ladder of good doctor versus bad doctor had been set within the unit by Doug Blade.  Good doctors got praised; bad doctors got lacerated.  Good people went up the ladder; bad people went down.  What better way to go up the ladder than to rescue a child in distress?  

Jenny was one of Dougbo’s favorites.  She wanted to go higher.

From what I have read, Jenny was very intelligent.  Being a bright LVN in the midst of doctors who may have been not as bright must have been incredibly frustrating to her.  Over the years I have encountered many LVNs and RNS who should have been doctors.  Perhaps Jenny felt similarly about herself.  Since attending medical school at her age would entail too many years of sacrifice, an important position in the PICU might suffice.  And, hey, Doug Blade liked and trusted her.  

What do you think, doctor?  

Patients ask me that question all the time, and more often than not I say to them, “Well, I was going to ask you the same question.”

Let’s mull that over.  It’s important to listen; no matter how smart we think we are, we’re not.

Doug Blade, from what was told to me, felt he had been screwed after the dust had settled, and to a certain extent he was right.  He was only a symptom of a toxic process that gets reinforced in academia.  You see, these people in academia believe that there exists such a thing as a good doctor and a bad doctor.  This doctor is good; that doctor is bad.  This doctor is competent; that doctor is incompetent.  You hear that a lot in the snake pit of academia.  

My response to that is this:  comparing what and compared to who?  It only takes a little time outside the poisonous confines of the Mecca, as they like to call it, to realize that there is no such thing as a good doctor or a bad doctor.  What exists are doctors with strengths and weaknesses.  When doctors and people are viewed under this light, hope exists and remediation is possible.  When silly labels are employed, no hope is possible.

It is this belief in the good doctor versus the bad doctor that gives rise to these so-called high-powered programs of which Doug Blade was an attendee.  He trained at Johns Hopkins, and, in the silly world of academia, this pediatric program along with CHOP (Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia), Toronto and Baylor, are considered high-powered programs. Academics revere CHOP above all; they talk about it constantly ad nauseam.  You would think Jesus himself had done a residency there. Fuck CHOP.  I’m sure Doug Blade bought into this nonsense.  So did many others.  They still do.

Check out CHOP’s website, and what you’ll find is a lot of bragging.  CHOP is affiliated with the University of Pennsylvania, founded by Benjamin Franklin.  Well, I’ve read The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin; and in it, Franklin’s advice for a young man or woman is to imitate Jesus.  

“First Hospital … dramatic firsts … saved countless children’s lives … come to CHOP from all over the world … earned us a spot on the U.S. News & World Report’s Honor Roll of the nation’s best children’s hospitals?”  That doesn’t sound like humble Jesus to me.  

No wonder its graduates think they’re all that.

In my book, pediatricians who do great things can come from nowhere and anywhere, and doctors who come from so-called prestigious universities can commit the most boneheaded mistakes.  The high-powered program is a myth and a dangerous one at that.  It gives a false sense of prestige and omnipotence to its graduates.  The handbook of your particular religion will tell you that; unfortunately medicine has drifted from far its moral base and now more or less follows the dictates of the Third Reich.

Not surprisingly, Larry Flowers taught at The Hospital for Sick Children’s in Toronto.  It must have been a heady experience.  Johnny Bullman came out of Vanderbilt, another one of these high-and-mighty programs.

The concept of  greatness is seductive, and the result is what you got in Pleasantville from 1979 to 1982.  Is this what you want?  If it isn’t, then you better get moving for the seeds of the next catastrophe are there.

There exists today in Pleasantville a group of doctors, self-anointed, who very much buy into the nonsense I have described above.  They fancy that their shit does not stink, and they stride around confidently and smugly that they are the good doctors.  I know a few, and they have no problem freely eliciting their foolish judgments.  In a way they are like that clique of cool kids you knew in high school – strutting around like they own the place.  They think they are all that.

After my residency, I felt like a beaten dog. I worked downtown across from El Mercado, then for a short spell at the emergency room at Santa Cora where Nancy Germany bailed me out one night on a difficult case.  I got my first lawsuit about that time.  I was devastated.  It was a minor lawsuit, a nuisance suit the lawyers called it, but it only reinforced all the negative shit those professors had heaped upon me.

A colleague of mine, Devon Maximus, told me at the time:  “Look, Arch, there are only two types of doctors, doctors who have been sued and doctors who are going to get sued.”  

Good advice.  Let’s tell academia.

I took a year and a half off to write a book which admittedly was a piece of shit, went nearly broke and made the slow climb back out of the abyss. I began working again, and what I discovered slowly was that the patients liked me.  I never got that sense while I was at the Mecca because professors don’t care about that kind of stuff.  What they care about are doctors who fit into their bullshit Nazi paradigm of spitting out a lot facts, presenting flawlessly and eloquently, and pretending that you do know when you don’t.

One of my fellow residents was an expert at roundsmanship.  He would never say that he didn’t know; he would cleverly say, “I can’t answer that.”  That’s pretty cool, right?  That aside, the three most important words in medicine are:  “I don’t know.”  All knowledge begins with those three words.  

Quick, someone tell academia because they will chew you up if you tell them you don’t know.

They don’t like honest people at the Mecca.

What I would say to a young doctor today is this:  “If they don’t like you in academia, it’s probably because you’re a very nice person who actually cares about people.  Don’t worry; you’re going to do just fine when you get away from them.”

Fuck them, and fuck the doctors who support them.  The doctors in private practice who support these academics are worse. They are like the Poles in WWII who inflicted more damage on the Jews than the Germans.  Even the German soldiers were astonished.

So after working my way back into medicine, I worked in different towns for ten years for different people.  I had a blast, and I enjoyed every place I worked.  I worked in Tyler, Corsicana, Houston, SA and most cities of the Rio Grande Valley.  I worked at Wilford Hall and at the PRIMUS clinics in Killeen and Copperas Cove right outside Fort Hood.  I lived in motel rooms, and the Gideon Bible was my best friend.  Along the way, I developed Crosley’s Law which states that your quality of life is directly proportional to your distance from the Mecca.  I guess it takes time to work stuff out.  Along the way I gained enough confidence and contacts to start my own practice.  I shouldn’t have had to do that though. 

Ten years is a good chunk of one’s life. 

Part of a training program’s job is to build you up, not tear you down.  But they do tear people down and not just while you’re there.  They are the gift that keeps on giving.  Six years out of my residency program, I worked at Wilford Hall for about nine months in their Pediatric clinic.  I would have finished out the year, but I had a minor dispute with a colonel who one day flipped an Amoxicillin prescription I had written on my desk.  He said to me, “I don’t want you writing this anymore.” He was an old-school guy who believed that kids should only get penicillin for strep throat. He didn’t believe in broad-spectrum antibiotics for strep throats.  Well, to begin with he’s not even allowed to tell me how to practice medicine; that’s the law.  Number two, he was rude.  I decided I didn’t need that kind of attitude, so I informed the agency who hired me that I wasn’t going to work there anymore.

The guy who ran the agency told me, “Look, we had to fight for you to get this.  They didn’t even want to hire you.”  

“Oh really,” I thought.  “Well, you should have told me and I wouldn’t have even bothered to work there.  I don’t go anywhere where I’m not wanted.”

A year later, I related this experience to two colleagues who I met up with in New Orleans.  They said to me:  “Well, you know where that came from, don’t you?”

“No,” I replied, “I would have no idea.” 

“It came from the school,”  they added.  

One of them then proceeded to tell me her own horror story of a professor at the school who had trashed her career.   

Well, as it turns out, they were either correct or very close to it.  Time has a way of outing people.

I should not have been surprised, though.

When I was a resident, I was in a room with a specialist as he was interviewing a patient. The patient’s parents explained that they had visited another doctor. They mentioned the doctor by name.  My attending specialist then replied:  “Oh, we know her; she’s no good.  We know; we trained her.”

Yep, these professors don’t get it that when they trash their trainees, they indict themselves.

Okay, you get the point.  You’ve heard enough and you want to know what good can come from this. What are you going to do about it, Crosley?  What do you propose?

Why, I’m glad you asked.

We can begin with replacing numerical evaluations with a personal investment in time by the attending physician, a dedicated teacher, who will have the time to patiently explain what does work and what does not work in the real-world practice of medicine.

If everything I as a pediatrician do well is because someone took the time to explain it, then it makes sense that the more personal time I receive, the better a pediatrician I’ll be.  And it would help immensely if the teaching physician was schooled in how to teach, what works in teaching, what doesn’t work and why students have particular learning difficulties.

If a student asks a question, it’s because he needs to know the answer.  Telling him that he should know this already, or that the question is stupid, doesn’t solve the problem.  Students need help, not abuse.  Additionally, students must emphatically learn that the three most important words in medicine are:  “I don’t know.”  It’s always better to know.

If the teacher can’t subscribe to that philosophy, then he should be directed to another profession.  Students must have recourse and a Bill of Rights that removes them from an injurious teacher.  

Here are some suggestions.  I’ll dress it up with a little comedy so that you’ll read them.

  1. Every school needs an independent ombudsman who is specifically there to represent the resident or student should he or she be suffering psychological abuse from a professor.
  2. Let’s draft a ‘Bill of Rights’ for residents and medical students which specifically states that a professor does not have the right to humiliate.
  3. Professors must attend classes on the science and psychology of education.
  4. We need full-time educators who do NOT do research. There is no place in a medical school for a dilettante.
  5. A specific ban on professors from making the following comments:
  • I would expect someone at your level to know this.
  • You have a poor fund of knowledge.
  • You are a loser.
  • You should know this.
  • That’s a stupid question.
  • Well, I think we need more database here.
  • Well, I think we need to back up here.
  • Well, I don’t think you’re asking the right question.
  • The Boards likes to ask this.
  • You have to know everything.

If a student asks a question, it’s because he needs to know the answer.  There are no stupid questions.  And nobody cares, Mr. Professor, what you think somebody should know.  I took a course once where the professor stated literally after every arcane and esoteric fact, “The Boards likes to ask this.”  Well, let’s see, Mr. Professor, you’ve stated this 5,000 times already; how can this be if there are only 250 questions on the Boards?

Here are some other suggestions:

  1. Replace the current monthly evaluation with personal attention whereby the professor MUST spend individual time with the student in conversation discussing patients, diseases and how to manage those diseases.
  2. Mandate the professor to spend his full time on the ward.  That’s where he works.  He has no other responsibilities.  He’s not an administrator, he doesn’t present conferences at grand rounds, and he sure as shit isn’t a researcher.
  3. Ban the professor from wearing a coat and tie; otherwise he might think he’s somebody. Forbid him from accepting any awards or any attending any cocktail parties with politicians or other people of self-importance.
  4. Ban all researchers from even showing their face on the ward under penalty of death. Their unsolicited snide comments will no longer be welcome.
  5. Ban the local doctor from acting as an attending.  He has no training and is 100% unqualified to teach.  If you think he does, then I’ll get a guy off the street to perform an appendectomy on you.
  6. Eliminate group rounds which brings out the worst in people.  There is no reason why the professor can’t do individual rounds with everyone; after all, he’ll be there.  He’ll have PLENTY of time.  I’m willing to bet that customized education tailored to the individual will result in better doctors.
  7. Ban researchers from interviewing or selecting prospective medical students, or else we’ll get a bunch of cruel, Machiavellian brainiacs just like them.  Who we want in medical school are compassionate, honest doctors who can relate to regular people.
  8. This one’s for fun but not really.  Any professor who buys a DeLorean (or its modern equivalent)  or personally monograms their own shirts may be more interested in themselves than the student’s welfare.  It might be wise to keep an eye on these guys.
  9. In education, respect must replace bullying.  Whipping someone into shape is a lazy substitute for teaching. As Benito Juarez, a former President of Mexico, once said, “Respect for the rights of others means peace.”
  10. Young physicians must have the following drilled into their hearts, minds and souls:  The three most important words in life and in healthcare are “I don’t know.”  It’s okay to say these words to yourself, to your professors and, most importantly, to your patients.

Finally, you may ask, how will full-time educators be financed?  Well, we have too much half-assed research and only one half-ass of education.  Figure it out.  Half the researchers aren’t needed.  The grant money and set asides for research will be better spent on education.  The professors can retrain and teach.  If that doesn’t suit them, hasta la vista, baby.  When it’s all said and done, we’ll get better research and better education.

How’s that sound, soldier?

Wives of the dear old professor need not respond.  Yes, I know he’s a good family man and a loving father.  I also know about the seventeen grandchildren and seventy-eight great-grandchidren.  Spare me.  Hitler too bounced toddlers on his knee.  

But let’s be fair.  Hitler was a product of a pernicious environment; if it hadn’t been Hitler, it would have been somebody else.  

You may find the Nazi analogy a bridge too far, but I use it specifically to illustrate a point.  Historians will affirm that the German Army during WWII possessed superior armaments.  Too, there was never a shortage of German brains or work ethic, and yet they lost.  They lost because we live in a moral universe where how you treat people is important.  Humility counts.  The Germans created a toxic environment where titles, power and prestige became more important than caring for people.

Ultimately, Lion County Hospital and its affiliated university placed their own power and prestige above that of the patients.  Their first duty was to the patients, not to themselves, not to their own glory, not to future lawsuits, not to the sanctity of their reputation.  What they lacked was humility.

It was the toxic environment of our medical schools and the errant values that are passed from one generation to the next that inevitably caused these doctors and many others to behave they way they did.  It was this same toxic environment in which Jenny Jamison operated and thrived.  If it hadn’t been Jenny Jamison, it would have been someone else.  And it will be someone else.

Values are important.

If we can change those values and emphasize compassion and humility, we can prevent the calamity that occurred in Pleasantville from ever happening again.  

Archer Crosley, MD
McAllen, TX 78501

Copyright 2022 Archer Crosley All Rights Reserved

The Vatican

What does the Vatican represent?

Who does the Vatican represent?

Not you.

The Vatican represents the power of Rome.

The Vatican represents the power of the elite.

In the early days, the Roman emperors hijacked Christianity and perverted its message.

They saw the rising tide against them and adapted.

They merged their gods and their paganism with the new religion of Christianity.

This is what leaders and money accumulators do.

It is who they are.

They built beautiful basilicas and churches to glorify themselves, to cement their power over the people.

They proclaimed themselves the vicars of Christ.

They led their people to war. They said it was God’s will.

They accumulated massive booty and extended their power over continents.

But there is no Christ in wealth.

There is no Christ in power.

There is no Christ in subjugation.

There is no Christ in gold and monetary splendor.

Christ’s message is not one of money and title accumulation.

He said so himself.

“Render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar’s, and unto God the things that are God’s”

In so speaking Christ was not validating greed and government; no, Christ was setting his world quite apart.

He was not telling you to peacefully coexist with the pagan world of greed.

In so many words he was telling his followers that the current world in which they were living was not working, and that if they wanted a different – better – world they would have to walk away from Caesar.

You cannot spread the message of Christ by walking away from Christ.

You cannot spread the message of Christ by entering the world of Caesar.

Indeed, the message of Christ is subverted by pomp and ceremony.

Christ is about humility.

Christ refused a crown.

Christ rode upon a donkey, the lowliest of the animals, a true beast of backbreaking burden.

You cannot approximate yourself to God by building beautiful churches and chapels.

No work of art can bring Christ nearer to you.

It’s an illusion to think so.

It’s a lazy man’s way to salvation.

You don’t become more Christian by walking into a beautiful basilica.

Indeed, you isolate yourself within a prison of gleaming majesty.

Christ can only be approached through the practice of Christ’s principles.

The basilica exists to inspire awe.

Through its vast expanse, it creates in the human mind a sense of human insignificance.

The echoes reinforce that sensation.

With that conditioning in place the leaders of the church, who claim to represent God’s will, find a pliable and willing mind.

That is the purpose of the Vatican.

Sincerely,

Archer Crosley

Copyright 2022 Archer Crosley All Rights Reserved

It Most Certainly Is An Attack

Someone posted this on my Facebook page.

When someone says “Happy Holidays” instead of “Merry Christmas”, remember they’re not doing it because of political correctness. They do it out of respect. Because from the 20th November to January 24th there’s at least 14 different religious holidays. So, when someone says Happy Holidays to you, thank them because they don’t know what you believe in. It’s called respect. Not a war on Christmas.

Here is my response.

Nonsense. These stratagems of saying Happy Holidays, and using BCE and CE instead of BC and AD, are driven from the top down, not the bottom up.

They come from the secular elitists who worship money and power.

They despise Jesus Christ, and what they want to do is make Jesus a speed bump in history. Nothing to see here, keep moving.

They despise Jesus Christ because the message of Jesus Christ stands directly contrary to everything they believe in.

Don’t fall for this nonsense. What they are conducting is a war against Jesus Christ.

If you want to fall for this nonsense, then don’t question our government when they fight war after war after war.

Don’t question our government when they continue their exploitation around the world.

These wars and this exploitation is a direct result of secularism replacing Christianity.

Did Jesus come out in favor of nonstop war?

Did Jesus ask his followers to go around the world and kick ass?

Would Jesus ask his followers to exploit the people of Haiti as Levi Strauss does?

Would Jesus ask his followers to open sweat shops around the globe?

What would Jesus say about our government and its prosecution of nonstop war today?

What would Jesus say about Nike’s exploitation of workers in Indonesia?

Well, I would hope that Jesus would say the following:

Fuck Nike.

Fuck Levi Strauss.

Fuck the United States government.

Sincerely,

Archer Crosley

Copyright 2022 Archer Crosley All Rights Reserved

Cuba

What can be done about poor Cuba?

The oppressed people of Cuba are caught between two powerful factions.

You have the Fidelidtas and communists on one side, and the United States power elite on the other.

The Fidelidtas claim that they should be in power because of the oppression that the United States and their puppet Batista, among others, caused them for so many years.

They are right.

The United States and the refugees in Cuba (and their descendants) claim that they should be in power because Fidel Castro murdered and imprisoned so many of their ancestors. Plus he stole their money and possessions.

They are right.

Consequently, the country of Cuba is embargoed by the United States.

The defenders of the embargo state that Cuba is free to trade with other nations. They claim that the poverty Cuba suffers is entirely self-inflicted, the result of the system that they choose to engage in.

This is not a valid argument because although Cuba is free to trade with other nations, the United States uses its influence to compel other nations to not trade with Cuba.

Consequently, the people of Cuba live in poverty.

It is true that their system is oppressive. It is true the Castro was a thief and a murderer.

But this does not make the oppressed people of Cuba murderers and thieves.

The people are paying for the crimes of Fidel Castro and his followers who in turn were created by the misguided and criminal elite from the United States.

The United States and its greedy elites claim that the embargo must be kept up in order to force a regime change in Cuba.

This is unlikely to happen.

Thus, the poverty of the Cuban people continues.

What can we do to effect change?

It’s not possible for individual Americans to run supplies into Cuba. Nor is it possible for individual groups of Americans to privately conduct business with Cuba.

The wealthy elite in the United States will not permit this.

Outside help is thus virtually impossible because of the power of the United States government which has been hijacked by the wealthy elite who desperately salivate over Cuba and its resources.

Cuba’s easy solution is to disengage from the United States and forge relations with those countries that have also disengaged from the United States.

Cuba has no choice but to develop its own industrial capacity to develop raw materials; and where that industrial capacity is not possible, Cuba must develop creative alternatives.

Thus Cuba will have to develop its own steel manufacturing, its own car manufacturing, it’s own plastic production ; it’s own textile industry; it’s own refineries, and so forth.

Cuba must be self-sufficient.

Cuba must do for itself what others will not.

Survive or die.

Now, if this is not possible, or Cuba does not have the will or confidence to do so, then Cuba must apply for inclusion into an existing state or supranational state.

China, Russia are possibilities.

Surprisingly enough the United States is another. Cuba could propose a deal that would be beneficial for both countries. We, Cuba, will become a state within the United States with all the guarantees and rights for our citizens that you give your own citizens. In return current Cuban refugees will be compensated for their losses. Free education and free healthcare will be granted to all our current and future citizens.

If these options are not forthcoming Cuba must create a supranational state of its own out of similarly disenfranchised states – other enemies of the United States.

Something must be done.

Standing still is not an option.

Sincerely,

Archer Crosley

Copyright 2022 Archer Crosley All Rights Reserved

What’s It All About, Alfie?

Why is this illegal immigration occurring here in the United States?

Why is illegal immigration occurring in the United Kingdom?

Are you surprised?

The British people are. They want to know why, after disengaging the UK from the European Union, their leaders are allowing immigrants to flood into their country faster than Prince Andrew can fuck an underage girl?

Would you be surprised to know that the United States and Great Britain move lockstep politically and economically?

Sure, there are always differences, but for the most part they move together.

Why is that?

What is going on here?

What’s going on here is that the corporate cabal that has bought off our politicians is the same corporate cabal that has bought off British politicians.

The politicians don’t give a fuck what the people think. Only at election time do they give half a fuck, if there is such a thing.

The politicians do what the corporate cabal wants them to do.

In the United States that corporate cabal is the Harvard Cabal. In the United Kingdom it’s the Oxford Cabal.

They work together. They are the twin towers of global war and global exploitation.

And those motherfuckers want those immigrants to flood into the country.

Why?

Why would they want all these immigrants?

For many reasons.

Number one, they act as a source of cheap labor to keep emerging unions in check.

They also act as a source of cheap labor for migrant work.

But those are not the main reason I suspect.

The main reason is to act as a source of military recruits for their next war.

Let’s face it, the next generation of pampered billionaire parasites has to be fed.

Wag, wah, wah, screams the useless child of the ruling billionaire elitist, where’s my war. I want to be a multibillionaire too, mommy.

Not to worry, son, we are engineering a brand new war for you.

Stop, I want to ingrain a word into your head.

Sahel.

What’s that you say?

Sahel is the sub-Saharan region in Africa.

I fear that is the next major battleground for our global killing machine.

There must be a lot of resources there.

The French are already there. If the French are there the Americans can’t be far behind. And I wouldn’t be surprised if American troops already are there.

If we do go there to fight a major war, these newly arrived immigrants will be used to fight that war.

It’s a new form of colonialism. It’s called neocolonialism. You go into a nation that gained its independence in the middle of the last century, and you balkanize it. You balkanize it through war. Different indigenous factions will control nonvital territories. You will control the vital territories that yield the booty. You will then directly confiscate the assets for yourself.

The governments of the United States and the United Kingdom will simply make these new immigrants an offer they can’t refuse: Fight our war for us and we will give you citizenship with no questions asked.

That’s a winner for the elites.

It’s not much of a winner for the immigrants and their families. Many of those immigrants will die in this useless war to come.

And it won’t get any better for the people of United Kingdom or the United States. Your lot in life will grow smaller.

Trillions of dollars will be printed to give to the ruling elite who own the corporations that supply the war machine.

As I’ve stated many times before it’s not just defense contractors who will make money. All corporations will make money.

All corporations will make money because when you fight a war on another continent, you have to re-create Corpus Christi, Texas and everything in it from the ground up in order to fight that war.

And I mean everything. Roads, infrastructure, housing, everything in the housing, pictures, lamps, magazines, televisions, coffee tables, chairs, pillows, food, ice cream, paper clips, are you getting the idea?

E-V-E-R-Y-T-H-I-N-G.

Even McDonalds and Starbucks are in on the game.

Who’s going to get rich in that?

The owners of the corporations. The ruling class. The monied class.

Who’s not going to get rich?

You.

That’s what the illegal immigration is all about, Alfie. It hurts you in so many ways. It keeps labor prices down. It keeps you fighting with each other over illegal immigration. It enriches the large corporations. It keeps war going.

Sayonara, Suckers.

Sincerely,

Archer Crosley

Copyright 2022 Archer Crosley All Rights Reserved

.

Controlling Drugs

Regarding drugs …

Let’s rid ourselves of the term legalization.

Control is a better word.

If we use the term legalization, then people get the idea that cocaine and heroin are going to be sold right next to the Skittles at the drugstore.

The word control is better.

The word control involves intelligent thought.

How will we control drugs? How will we control addiction rates?

That’s what we want: intelligence.

What we don’t want are mindless politicians involved in drug policy.

Currently, we can’t get anywhere with regard to drug policy and addiction rates because the political debate is controlled by two widely opposing schools of thought.

Those two schools of thought are complete legalization versus complete banning on drugs.

This is not going to work.

We want to put a rheostat on all drugs.

There are probably five to ten parameters that can be adjusted on each particular drug in an attempt to control it.

Those parameters would include how much a person can buy, who can buy it, when can they buy it, where can they buy it, for what purpose can they buy it, how frequently can they buy it.

I’m sure you can think of a few more.

What we want to achieve is the lowest addiction rate and the least amount of illegal drugs.

All of this can be graphed out, analyzed and then controlled by using the above parameters.

This would best be handled by an independent board comprised of schooled professionals, mathematicians, social workers, attorneys and healthcare providers.

The last thing we want is a politician making hay over these issues.

This particular individual, the politician, is best relegated to that of the irrelevant village idiot who dances haplessly in a remote corner of the room.

To achieve a better world, the term legalization when it comes to drug use should be eliminated from our vocabulary.

The word legal is an unfortunate and almost useless word to use.

Yes, a drug can be legalized – but at a 5% level thus making it effectively illegal.

Alcohol is legal, yet it is illegal for people under 21.

Control is a better word.

Sincerely,

Archer Crosley

Copyright 2022 Archer Crosley All Rights Reserved

Who We Are

Follow this through.

As I may have stated before, my father died when I was 13 years of age. That produced a significant amount of trauma in our family’s life.

I was not immune to that trauma.

If that was the only trauma that I had suffered, I might’ve had a chance at a normal life.

I might have been able to get married and have kids.

The Lord took me in a different direction.

My mother remarried when I was 15 years of age, and that remarriage doubled the amount of trauma to my developing psychosexual identity.

Suddenly I inherited a stepfather and two step brothers, and we lived under the same roof.

It’s a strange thing to combine two families together.

It’s a tremendous adjustment, more so if you are in early to mid adolescence.

I know the transition was difficult on my older stepbrother Stevie, who turned to drugs.

It was tough for me even though I stayed away from drugs.

Combining two families is stressful. It’s nothing like you see on television.

Television portrays the combination of two families as a joyful, non-stressful event that the children are willing and gleeful to engage in.

Perhaps this is true for many families, but I suspect that for the majority of families the children are not desirous of their parent’s remarriage.

This is a true story.

Our combined families minus the parents were sitting around in our recreation room watching an episode of My Three Sons.

In this particular episode Steve Douglas, played by Fred McMurray, along with his soon to be bride named Barbara approach the children from both families in their living room and announce that they are getting married.

The children upon hearing the news immediately rise up in vigorous happiness and congratulate their parents.

When our real combined families saw this scene, there was a moment of silence before we all burst out in laughter.

It was obvious that none of the children from our combined family wanted our parents to get married.

There’s a reason for this.

In the developing child there are two forces, one from the father, and one from the mother, that are attempting to integrate with each other into a unique personality that is you.

The child desperately wants to integrate these forces into a nice tight integrated dovetailed joint.

Divorce and death weaken this joint. What you get is a weak unstable joint and, consequently, a weak unstable personality – one that is more fractured.

The older you are in adolescence, the stronger this joint is should the parents divorce, or should one parent die.

The earlier you are in adolescence, the weaker this joint becomes.

This is why trauma in the family affects younger adolescents more than it does older adolescents.

When this trauma hits, the child will do anything to preserve and strengthen this joint.

They definitely do not want their parents to remarry. That is a television fantasy.

In my case, this double hit from both my father’s death and my mother’s remarriage cause me to become more angry and introverted.

I lost all the socialization that normally takes place during high school years.

I participated in almost no activities. Sure, there were a few, but only a few.

There was an entire world of student parties and socialization that I was oblivious to.

It’s difficult to remember back on fifty years with extreme clarity, but I remember going through a decision process in my mind with regard to survival and direction in my life.

Somewhere in my subconscious I made a childlike decision, because I was a child, that close relationships could result in extreme pain should one of those relations die.

It would therefore cause me less pain emotionally if I was not closely attached to other people.

This is logical, but it is not normal logic. It’s aberrant because most people don’t think this way.

Nevertheless I was a child.

It therefore became logical to my childlike mind that if I never had any girlfriends, or by extension a wife, I could not have children. If I did not have a wife or children, they could not die on me. Therefore I would experience less pain.

Thus my child-like mind embraced this logic, and there grew within me a force that would automatically prevent me from interacting normally with the opposite sex even though I had a biological desire to do so.

I remember experiencing this force in high school. There was this girl that I liked and wanted to ask out, but I could feel this force within me preventing me from doing so.

This force has persisted throughout my life.

It feels at times as if I am missing a set of instructions, or if there is a blockage on a set of instructions within me.

It causes me to act awkwardly when I try to engage the opposite sex in a sexual way.

It is not a force that I can defeat.

It has become part of my integrated, aberrant personality.

This force is so strong that when I have tried to have sex with the opposite sex, my body shuts down.

It’s a protective mechanism gone awry.

I was able to obtain an erection by myself, but not with the opposite sex.

My body shuts down. There is nothing that I can do to control this.

This was frustrating to me when I was young, but now that I am older and understand what’s going on, I am not frustrated at all.

The mind of a child when undergoing stress in adolescence, when psychosexual identity is being forged, makes conclusions about life.

Those conclusions define who you are throughout your life. You cannot alter them.

I suspect that homosexuality, pedophilia, asexuality has its roots in the forging of psychosexual identity during adolescence.

People want to know why they are the way they are. I can only give you insight into the way that I am.

Jeffrey Dahmer wanted to know why he was the way he was.

Let’s put aside the notion that a hernia surgery caused by Jeffrey Dahmer to be the way he was. There is no evidence, nor will there ever be any evidence that a hernia surgery leads to this type of activity.

What we do know is that Jeffrey Dahmer‘s parents argued and fought constantly.

I suspect that the extreme trauma that he was undergoing during his early childhood and adolescence disrupted his integrating personality.

In an attempt to survive and stay alive, he made internal conclusions which became part of his personality. He reached out into his own experiences and used those experiences to form a psychosexual identity, unique to him, which permitted him to survive.

Of course these internal conclusions were flawed and aberrant. Of course these conclusions made and make no sense. He made these conclusions when he was a child.

Internally to him they made sense. To us they are flawed and aberrant.

He understood that his logic was aberrant to the rest of us, but to himself, the logic was valid.

In terms of his own body and psyche, his actions seemed right and valid. He understood that his actions were wrong in terms of the rest of society, but to his own self his actions were right, not wrong.

Similarly, in my case, my logic seems right to me in terms of my own survival. I understand that my logic is flawed in the broader context, but in terms of myself it is correct.

I bring this up to point out the flawed legal concept of knowing right from wrong.

Yes, Jeffrey Dahmer knew that you believed his actions were wrong, but in terms of himself, he believed his actions were right.

Much time is consumed in the legal system as to whether an individual who commits a crime knows right from wrong.

It’s a waste of time.

A person who commits a crime obviously feels within his own context that what he’s doing is right.

The only thing that counts in the legal system is what the majority of the people think.

In that sense, anybody who commits a crime, obviously has some psychological trait that is aberrant from the norm.

Why is this important?

It’s important because we then begin to realize that all crime and aberrancy has a psychological basis.

This realization then compels us to prevent this aberrancy to the highest degree possible.

An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.

This realization also compels us to understand that much of aberrancy is not fixable.

You can’t fix me into being a normal functioning heterosexual unless you’re willing to send me to North Korea and have Kim Jong-un take me down to a baby and rebuild my personality, something you’re not willing to do.

You can’t fix a homosexual. They are who they are.

You can’t fix a pedophile. They are who they are.

You can’t fix Jeffrey Dahmer. He was who he was.

There is no rehabilitation possible. There is no conversion therapy that is going to work.

What you see is what you get.

What you can do, is prevent sexual aberrancy. What you can do is prevent aberrance of all types.

You can create a society where families are not stressed out economically. You can ensure an economy that works to provide more people more money.

You can create a more stable family structure. You can eliminate pornography as a force that affects children adversely.

You can delete society of mindless algorithms and standardized tests which place too much pressure upon adults and children.

You can treat stop treating people as numbers.

You can stop human resource departments from treating people as widgets.

Of course, you can’t prevent a parent who dies of a heart attack, but you can create a healthier society.

You can put high taxes on deep fried foods, and foods that contain high fructose corn syrup.

You can give monetary inducements to the Medicaid and Medicare populations for keeping their weight within certain limits.

You can put intelligent controls on all addictive drugs that would find the healthiest balance between the lowest addiction rates and the least amount of organized crime.

You can deemphasize gambling in the United States.

If we are going to have a service economy forever, we can mandate that workers in the service economy must make a living wage.

We can do a lot of things.

All of these public measures can impact the family and the developing child.

None of these measures can impact me and my particular psychosexual identity because I am old and because I am who I am.

But we may be able to prevent so many people from moving down aberrant pathways.

I will leave you with this analogy.

A developing psychosexual identity is akin to an offshore oil platform being built upon the sea.

As long as the sea is calm, the platform is fine. Everything is as it should be.

But what happens when an earthquake or rogue wave hits the platform.

The platform becomes destabilized.

The structures begin to waver up and down, and move from side to side.

The men on the platform become frightened and furiously move to stabilize the platform. They take whatever materials they have on hand and Gerry rig a solution.

The solution isn’t perfect; indeed, the solution is twisted and perhaps a little ugly.

But it works. It holds the platform together and enables the men to survive.

Well, this is what happens with a developing psychosexual identity that has been traumatized.

The only difference is that there’s no one to come around and rescue an individual.

The men on the platform can call for help, get on a boat and escape. Later the oil platform can be towed into port and rebuilt.

A human being can not.

What you see is what you get.

Sincerely,

Archer Crosley

Copyright 2022 Archer Crosley All Rights Reserved

How to Succeed

Are you desiring to succeed in life?

How is this done?

I can illustrate a few principles.

In your line of work whatever that may be whether you are a butcher, a baker, a candlestick maker, or even an attorney or a physician, treat everybody the same.

Don’t play favorites even though you may have some.

Don’t classify people into movers and shakers in order to weed out the undesirables.

Don’t dismiss people because you either don’t like them or you find them beneath you.

Don’t get rid of people because they ask you a lot of questions.

Attend to everyone thoroughly with the same measure of respect.

There are going to be clients who try your patience. Work through these clients diligently. Forget about your own personal feelings. Take care of their needs first.

Put yourself second.

You may think that their questions are silly; it doesn’t matter.

You should listen to their concerns no matter how trivial because their concerns may be valid, and you may be wrong.

Or addressing their concerns will lead you to ask questions which will reveal greater problems that unaddressed will cause you grief.

If you are concerned about being sued for your own malfeasance and are desiring to protect your assets, let me buy you a ticket on the clue train.

An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.

Forget about obsessively shielding your assets. Ultimately no amount of legal stratagem will protect you from your own malfeasance.

The best way to prevent malfeasance is to diligently take care of your clients.

Dismiss none of their concerns.

You may want to go home at five or five-thirty. Too bad. You should answer all the telephone calls and texts that you receive during the day.

Follow up on everything as soon as possible.

If you take care of your clients, your clients will take care of you.

If you take care of your clients, your life will take care of itself.

Don’t be a fake. Be yourself.

The most important thing in business is to be yourself.

Don’t be pigeonholed into the ideal that academics try to cram you into.

If people don’t like you, that’s not a bad thing.

Pray that they tell their friends because it’s a good chance their friends think like them.

It’s better to have clients who are in sync with your personality.

You can’t be all things to all people.

That’s why you are always better off by being yourself.

By being yourself you are going to attract people like you.

When you run a business you are selling yourself.

Let’s look at pediatrics. Because that is what I do.

Most pediatricians practice the same way. Any pediatrician can prescribe an amoxicillin prescription. Any pediatrician can order a CBC.

Most pediatricians practice uniformly.

Where we differ is in our personalities.

Over the years I have been able to detect fairly well when a patient belongs not with me but with another pediatrician who I know.

One time I was in the office on a Saturday and a patient came into my office. As I was interviewing the patient for the first time I said to myself, this is a patient who looks as if they belong with Dr. Wells. Not more than a minute after I had that thought, the patient said to me, well, Dr. Wells wasn’t open today, so that’s why I came over here.

You want people in your practice or business who think like you and who have your values.

What you don’t want are people who don’t think like you, or who don’t have your values.

For example, I am a very laid-back pediatrician. I have never worn a white coat and a tie. I take a quite different approach to pediatrics than a traditional pediatrician who might wear a white coat and a tie.

That’s a good thing because there are many people out there in the world today.

There are people who like traditional pediatricians, there are people who like informal pediatricians like myself.

If I am myself, I am more likely to attract people who are likely to follow my orders.

That has made me more successful than I ever thought I would be.

Well, those are a few important points that I would make you if you are desirous of being successful in life.

Sincerely,

Archer Crosley

Copyright 2022 Archer Crosley All Rights Reserved

Celebrity Puppets

Why are celebrities puppets?

They didn’t used to be.

Some always were, but many weren’t.

With the advent of television and radio in the past century, the United States increasingly became centralized.

Schools like Harvard began to “nationalize” themselves.

Harvard and the Harvard cabal grew stronger.

So did the mainstream media itself.

It didn’t start off that way.

Television, radio stations and newspapers were largely local operations that increasingly became consolidated as the decades rolled by.

Local operators were principally focused on making money, not an engineering society.

It was possible for a individual from nowhere named Elvis Presley to grow organically.

Plus, Elvis never felt the “need” to tell us what we should think about abortion or gay marriage.

He was too busy singing songs for the sake of our enjoyment

That’s less possible now.

As television grew up, so did the realization that television could be a powerful tool in manipulating people.

The celebrity became an instrumental tool in that manipulation.

Fifty to seventy-five years ago you saw celebrities who went their own way in voicing their own opinions.

Lots of celebrities spoke out against the Vietnam war even though Corporate America was in favor of the Vietnam war.

Nowadays, you almost never see a celebrity who goes against what Corporate America desires.

The Vietnam war was an important watershed moment in producing this shift.

It was the people of the United States who shut down the Vietnam war.

The celebrities were extremely important in moving the people.

Corporate America took notice.

They said to themselves at the higher levels where the owners of these corporations meet: This is never gonna happen again. We are going to not only own the media, but the social influencers as well. And we are going to own them lock stock and barrel.

Soon after the Vietnam war, Corporate America led by the Harvard cabal launched into high gear into consolidating the media on all levels.

You saw the rise of Clear Channel.

You saw the invasion of Corporate America into media organizations that were traditionally standalone operations.

General Electric became the owner of NBC.

This was a dangerous trend.

It’s still is.

We are now in a state of America where Corporate America and the media are the same.

The media is not just the New York Times, the Washington Post, and the major networks.

The media involves film, radio, television, sports, music, music venues, internet, books, magazines and newspapers at all levels.

Corporate America controls it all. They also control these so-called avant-garde media publications that pose as revolutionary, countercultural voices.

These would be these so-called hip publications with hip names like Daily Beast, Vox, and Buzzfeed.

With this vast control Corporate America has immense power to influence the American people.

It also has the power to make and break people who aspire to be celebrities.

You’ve heard of the saying that was spoken in Hollywood years ago: You’ll never work in this town again?

Well, this statement is more true than it ever was.

If you don’t go along with what Corporate America wants, you’re out.

If you do go along, you can make hundreds of millions of dollars.

Which celebrity is going to jeopardize an income like that?

Which celebrity given jets and fabulous houses is going to jeopardize that standing?

Not too many.

The Dixie Chicks spoke up against George Bush’s war in Iraq many years ago, and they were excommunicated.

Cornel West spoke up in defense of the Palestinians, and he was denied tenure at Harvard.

James Woods spoke out for conservative issues, and he was marginalized.

Jeffrey Sachs speaks out against the American empire, and he will be marginalized.

This is where we are.

Celebrity control by Corporate America was on display during the recent pandemic.

I don’t remember one major celebrity speaking out against the measures of Dr. Fauci.

Not one.

To a man they all parroted the government propaganda to shelter at home, socially distance, and flatten the curve.

And that is what happened.

The wealthy elite own the minds of the poor, and these wealthy elite are growing in strength.

You can thank your celebrity puppet for that.

Sincerely,

Archer Crosley

Copyright 2022 Archer Crosley All Rights Reserved