Reheated (98)
For newcomers, some items from the archives:
Don’t Oppress My People With Your Expectations Of Politeness And Basic Consideration.
A tear-inducing tale of racial victimhood.
“One day, when I accidentally sat down to study in the library’s Absolutely Quiet Room, fellow students Shhh-ed me into shame for putting on my Discman… I soon realised that silence was more than the absence of noise; it was an aesthetic to be revered. Yet it was an aesthetic at odds with who I was. Who a lot of us were.”
A bold admission. One, I suspect, that reveals more than intended. Also, the claim that one can sit down in a library accidentally.
Inevitably, Ms Gonzalez blames her own moral shortcomings on other people’s race and class, as if, by expecting politeness, they were imposing on her in cruel and unusual ways. Because – magic words – “of colour.” But the common variable, the one that’s hard to miss, is the author’s own rudeness and self-absorption. And so, she blunders into the library’s “Absolutely Quiet Room,” and fires up her music.
On the non-random nature of who you are.
The newborn me was a result of a particular lineage, of choices made by specific individuals and the genes of those individuals – who can of course say the same thing about themselves. To imply that anyone’s birth is a random thing, as if it could have happened anywhere, at any time, as if the particulars were immaterial, is, it seems to me, a little odd. Indeed, arse-backwards. And I doubt that many parents see the birth of their child as some random occurrence, unmoored from any context or preceding events. I’d imagine it wouldn’t seem random at all.
Unless you imagine a queue of souls waiting to spawn in some small but arbitrary body on a continent chosen by the spin of a wheel. Or cosmic bingo balls.
Ontario teachers’ union forbids “right-wing” opinions, endorses deception.
It occurs to me that when your solution to such complaints [from parents regarding classroom indoctrination] includes the words “so parents cannot see it,” it may be time to revisit your assumptions.
Consider this an open thread. Share ye links and bicker.
Evergreen.
As noted in the original thread, it does rather suggest a psychological gulf – and moral gulf – that can exist between we, the unremarkable, and our glorious betters. Say, writers for the Atlantic. Or indeed readers of the Atlantic. And that’s before we get to the comical double standards, revealed at the end, and the bewildering disregard for even the most basic logical consistency.
And again, it’s worth noting how the woke piety on display is antithetical to expectations of even simple reciprocation – i.e., the basis of morality.
“That’s right,” said Brother Plasterer. “My landlord oppresses me something wicked. Banging on the door and going on and on about all the rent I allegedly owe, which is a total lie. And the people next door oppress me all night long. I tell them, I work all day, a man’s got to have some time to learn to play the tuba. That’s oppression, that is. If I’m not under the heel of the oppressor, I don’t know who is.”
–Terry Pratchett, Guards! Guards!
She is telling us that she should be oppressed. Segregation for savages, anyone?
“I tripped and my penis just accidentally slipped into that random woman’s vagina.”
Well, what’s amusing to me – and, I think, telling – is that Ms Gonzalez’ article was highlighted by the Atlantic as a “must-read,” a measure of the magazine’s progressive lifestyle credentials. As if no-one, at least no-one sufficiently progressive, could possibly see anything absurd or glaringly objectionable in the author’s outpourings.
If the Atlantic know their readership – and I would guess they do – it does rather tell us something.
I should add that Ms Gonzalez’ hypocrisy – and it’s a real humdinger – took me all of 30 seconds to find. But apparently we weren’t expected to notice, or at least we weren’t expected to care. As if it had no bearing on the claims being made.
Don’t take my failure to mention the Atlantic and its readers as meaning I don’t think they, too, deserve to be oppressed. Many of them are indeed Those Who Are No Longer Our Countrymen. They will enthusiastically do us harm while congratulating themselves on their superior virtue.
Today in Racism™ – candle packaging.
Myself, I thought they looked more like a bunch of space aliens looking down at a subject about to be probed.
I saw a sort of paper snowflake, which I’m assuming was the general idea. But still, THE DRAMA MUST NEVER END.
Apparently, they’re now a highly-valued collectors’ item.
THE DRAMA MUST NEVER END
Indeed, how utterly deranged one has to be to see a candle called “Snowed In” and think Klan hood instead of grade school class winter art project snowflake is staggering.
Even here in the South in the olden days when there was more Klan than snow* no rational person would think that.
Apparently, they’re now a highly-valued collectors’ item.
The Streisand Effect strikes again…
*(that is reversed now which goes to show how little of both there are, or ever was)
One of my favourite manifestations of THE DRAMA THAT MUST NEVER END was back in 2010, when the Los Angeles branch of the National Association for the Advancement of Coloured People expressed outrage over a musical graduation card sold by Hallmark. The card, which had an astronomical theme and contained a tiny speaker, mentioned black holes.
Bizarrely, this was seized upon by activists – presumably activists with hearing problems – as saying “black hoes.” Umbrage ensued, with claims that the card was “demeaning,” racist, an attempt to Crush The Negro, etc. “It sounds like a group of children laughing and joking about blackness,” as one grievance-seeking individual put it. The card was promptly withdrawn, followed by much prostration and blathering about “sensitivity.”
Sadly, the post I wrote on this didn’t survive the relocation to the new blog, and the video of activists listening intently to an innocuous message from a greetings card has long since disappeared, but the old blog’s link is here.
Correction.
With a blunt instrument.
Back in the 60’s black “activists” and “intellectuals” were voicing outrage over such “racist” expressions as “black magic” and “black humor”.
Why not both?
How long do you plan to preserve the old blog? (Setting aside the dubious prospects for Typepad.)
If you squint really hard.
And turn off the lights.
And go into the next room.
Possible a different world.
Hello.
It costs me much less than the upkeep of this place, so I’ve no immediate plans to discontinue it. Of course, as Typepad is in terminal decline, it may well wink out of existence before I pull the plug.
Related: A former NAACP activist was just shot to death when she repeatedly slashed a police officer with a knife.
Regarding the RACIST GREETING CARD DRAMA, what struck me at the time was how no-one involved – neither the store nor Hallmark – had the stones to say, “Get the hell out of here and learn some shame, you low-class two-bit grifters.”
Or words to that effect.
GISS
You should at least be able to archive it locally to your machine. Got this from asking perplexity.ai*:
I may take a stab at this myself when I get some time.
*New AI based search engine. I’ve just been using it starting this morning. So far, much better than google but a bit of a bother UI-wise.
Of course.
How would you feel about it if, when you link to one of those lost posts, your readers were to re-post them here as comments?
Speaking of which, the Internet Archive is still offline. 🙁
I don’t see much point. The handful of posts that didn’t make it were ancient and of no great significance. Not things I’d be likely to refer to. In at least a couple of cases, I’m happy they’re harder to find.
Wilson, the slasher, was trans.
Okay, I’ll respect your wishes. [ Begins covert search for embarrassing posts containing photos of David on his Throne of Evil. ]
It’s the thing about doing this for so long – NEARLY EIGHTEEN BLOODY YEARS – you tend to get better at it. Or at least, you change your mind about some things.
It’s hard to imagine, I know, but there was a time I was young and foolish.
Today In Racism™; Part the Second – noticing plagiarism.
And now you’re no longer young.
There has to be a name for this idea.
What is the name of this concept that we all exist where and when we do as some accidental mistake of a stork? This was last popularized by Disney’s Soul and it is very destructive to families and societies.
YOU UTTER BASTARD.
There went another overcoat.
Untold numbers of theses and dissertations are at risk.
And Georgetown’s X account has a short, context-free post mourning the death.
When did Miss Piggy get into the pronoun game?
Endangered
speciestheses.On the other hand….
Georgetown’s Women’s Basketball, to be specific.
It’s a pernicious, hippyish notion and tends to be mentally blunting. For instance, my favourite line from that post – the indignant progressive who says, with some self-satisfaction, “It’s only by chance you were born to said ancestors.”
As if one could have entirely different ancestors who are entirely unconnected to the ancestors one does actually have. As if, while having entirely different ancestors, you could somehow be exactly the same person you are now, and not someone else.