Friday Ephemera (762)
Mongolian rave scene. || Not sure if it’s the shoes. || What… are you? || Just a few weeks. || “Why does he have no pants on?” || She’s certain that’s what he’s doing. Or, when your opinions are determined by status, not reality. || “Ecolesbianism asks: what if our interspecies relationships are lesbian too?” Related: Situated bodies and a butch dyke Earth. (h/t, Muldoon) || Wiglessness. || When you’re determined to make things worse. || Chadd is a grown man. || Attention, menfolk of pallor – new instructions have been uploaded. || Professor at Stanford, an expert, is mystified. || She’s going to assume you’re racist. || Best not to waste your pity. || What’s up, party people. || He did not wash his hands. || The gods, they mock us. || Escaped dental patient. || And finally, in a jam, helpfulness.
To enable extra commenting options – including @username mentions, upvotes, and live notifications – scroll down to the black ‘Meta’ box at the very bottom of the page and click register. It’s free and quite painless.
This blog is kept afloat by the tip jar buttons below.
That’s really a relief to all us White males. I mean, if this woman is going to go out of her way to avoid us, I can’t see a downside.
How lefties help the working class.
It’s like someone bottled the very essence of woke psychology. Its go-to unpleasantness.
I laughed and I’m not sorry.
The unpreparedness for even polite dissent, the bewilderment, is a common enough experience. As, for that matter, is the fixed, resentful smile.
Again, my recent conversation about Net Zero comes to mind. By mentioning some second-order effects, some weirdly and implausibly unconsidered variables, I somehow, immediately, became A Bad Person. Someone Who Isn’t Nice. No attempt was made to address the points I raised and offers of supporting evidence were hastily declined.
And when imaginary piety has been staked on the affirmation of error, things that are clearly untrue or downright perverse, there’s a lot of resistance to overcome.
I would guess that any factual correction, even polite enquiry, is taken as an attack on the other person’s identity, on their self-image as An Ostentatiously Good Person. By disagreeing – and worse, by presenting contrary evidence – you’re kicking at the footing of their persona, their in-group standing.
And you won’t generally be thanked for that.
The machine didn’t lie.
Again with the aging hippie demographic. Grey hair, possibly grandchildren, and the maturity of toddlers.
Send the meteor, Lord. Send it soon.
Heh. Oh I dunno, though. The maroon-haired woman randomly screeching “NAZI! NAZI! NAZI!” totally disproved the retardation reading.
And then there’s the lady with the blue hat, the one whose first response, her go-to impulse, is to lash out physically.
Because HOW VERY DARE YOU.
I’ll express that as a certainty.
the very essence of woke
psychologypsychopathy.In terms of my Net Zero exchange, I’d summarise the dynamic as:
I paraphrase, of course. But not, I think, unfairly.
The left never abandons a lie, no matter how thoroughly it is refuted.
..
Dundus: Father defends his killer son. Far too many blacks in America have zero self-control, zero discipline, and infinite entitlement.
As you can imagine, it’s difficult to have a realistic discussion on a topic that the other person initiates and claims to care about, if any attempt to do so is met with indignation and a refusal to consider unfamiliar information. Along with a sense that any future attempt to discuss the matter will not be at all welcome.
Because what matters is being heard SAYING ALL THE THINGS.
I only “have a conversation” with such people if there are others present who may be persuaded. At all other times I shun them as the poisonous snakes that they are.
Thing is, these tendencies can be found in otherwise respectable people. Ladies who volunteer for good causes, give to charity, and are fastidious about their recycling, etc. People who very much value being nice.
Which, if anything, makes the experience more peculiar.
I still shun them.
Our intellectual betters bring us art.
The Talk: Nonblack Version, by John Derbyshire