We Must Let Him Improve Us
Mr Bob Chipman, a woke scold, avowed feminist, and film reviewer – in pretty much that order these days – shares his deep, uplifting philosophy. The dynamic may not be entirely unfamiliar.
Mr Chipman is an enthusiast of socialism (albeit, it seems, for others) and a man entranced by his own allegedly vast intelligence, which he mentions frequently. He is, he assures us, “an American of intelligence,” unlike people who are insufficiently leftwing, whom he views as “not redeemable” and indeed subhuman. His favoured terms for those who would dare to vote differently include “obsolete trash,” “backward people,” “obsolete whites” and “Nazi motherfuckers.” These lively definitions would most likely be applied to the readers of this blog, its host, and presumably our friends and families.
When not sharing his eugenic fantasies of a world forcibly depopulated of people who disagree with him, Mr Chipman suggests that his fellow leftists pleasure themselves by finding a non-leftwing person, any non-leftwing person, and making their “day/week/life a little bit miserable.”
Mr Chipman appears to have difficulty being happy and struggles to understand why anyone might dislike him.
Also, open thread. Share ye links and bicker.
Right, I have episodes of Larry Sanders to watch, and then sleep. This week’s Ephemera should materialise in a couple of hours.
You haven’t the slightest idea how tough it is. Every day, you get covered in mud, dirt and shit, back-breaking work, and you can never, ever take a frigging vacation or a day off
Ah, but you see, I do. I live on a 100-year-old farmstead, we run a plant nursery there, with only one employee who just makes floral arrangements. You just described my daily routine in your post. Up at 6, unending chores, loads of maintenance, delivering flowers, cleaning ditches, replacing roofs, burning weeds, killing moles, repairs needed everywhere. The fun never ends, and I still travel 5 hours to occasional casting calls where I seldom make the final cut. Plus practice and rehearsing on my own stage act. The one day in the week we’re closed is the day we can finally get some work done. Vacation? What’s that? We’re open all year round. I take it all in stride, and still stand by my original post. Acting IS tough, just try it.
Heh…of all the books for you to mention…that was exactly the first book that I was assigned that I didn’t bother to read. 11th grade English class. I decided to do a little experiment as I was never pulling better than a C+. I thought, “What if I just listen extra careful in class to what teacher says, not let any of my own interpretation into the picture, maybe skim the Cliff Notes a little, and let’s see what happens.” Sure enough, I get a B (B+ IIRC) on the test. Don’t remember squat about the book as I do recall the reason I picked that one to experiment with was that it seemed very uninteresting to me. I figured I’d probably never finish reading it anyway so why bother even starting to read it?
Also, God bless you Cloudbuster. You saved me (and likely several others) a lot of aggravation.
Fixed? Sorry about that. Could have sworded I previewed. I had an ellipsis twixt backslash i and backslash blockquote…maybe that threw me off?
Or did Barry Hoffman do this to us? Hmm….
Or Barry Homan…whatever…
[It was a gallant attempt, however unsuccessful.]
(meaning mine, not yours WTP.)
I mean, yours was both.
Gallant and successful, that is.
(positively final effort to clarify)
You haven’t the slightest idea how tough it is. Every day, you get covered in mud, dirt and shit, back-breaking work, and you can never, ever take a frigging vacation or a day off
Ah, but you see, I do. I live on a 100-year-old farmstead, we run a plant nursery there, with only one employee who just makes floral arrangements.
There’s a reason why it’s called “work” and not “happy fun time”.
I must admit that I’ve never seen the draw to go into a line of work where my level of success is directly proportional to how much I cannot be like myself. When I’m in a bad mood, it’s phrased more along the lines of being in a line of work where I have to lie so convincingly that other people believe that I am someone else.
Obviously, the last sentence is an over-simplification of acting. Nonetheless, a good actor is capable of making me believe that I’m dealing with some other human being. Gary Oldman, for example, is a human chameleon; outside of acting, he may well be a straight-up person. Even so, I’m not certain that I’d believe anything he told me. YMMV.
Also, God bless you Cloudbuster. You saved me (and likely several others) a lot of aggravation.
I don’t know, between someone who produces food and an actor/flower arranger, this has all the makings of a one sided Four Yorkshiremen skit.
“Mucking out a dairy barn at 4AM – luxury – we were picking flowers in the snow, uphill both ways, with naught but barbed wire on our bare feet for traction, AND, while reciting Hamlet”.
The near unanimous, nearly singular perspectives of the themes and such sounded a little too similar.
Better or worse than coming to a text with preconceptions from literary criticism that are so strong that the actual text is smothered even when it’s read?
Oh, whether right wing or left wing or “literary” instead of actually just reading the text, it’s all the same variety and quality of “discussion”. . . . . .
Poor, dear woman…
[Jots down “statement issued from safe 15000 kilometers distance.” ]