A car is reported stolen. Police arrive. Liveliness ensues:

Needless to say, the situation does not improve.

“Can we get another car over here… He is having a breakdown.”

“SHEEEE!”

[ Lunges. ]

“JUST SAY THE RIGHT PRONOUNS!”

Readers may wish to imagine being a student or campus employee who, like the police officer, fails to discern by some telepathic means the expected fabulist pronouns, and who, as a result, is faced with similar behaviour. All that lovely shrieking and bedlamite lunging.

Behaviour emboldened, one assumes, by each new act of deference.

A YouTube version of the above can be found here.

Update, via the comments:

In the original thread on X, what struck me was the number of people claiming that the police officer was being needlessly aggressive and provocative – unlike our bewigged vision of loveliness – and that the use of pepper spray was “not fair.” “They could have just walked away,” says one.

Just walked away. As if you should be allowed to lunge at a police officer with impunity, and refuse to obey the law, with impunity, and be aggressive and disruptive to a psychotic degree – again, with impunity – provided you’re cross-dressing at the time.

The people saying these things don’t appear interested – at all – in the students and staff who will also be subject to this bedlamite’s tantrums and bullying. Seemingly at random, at the drop of a hat. Over and over again. As if the meltdown theatre seen above weren’t practised, a way to dominate others.

Again, behaviour emboldened by each new act of deference.

Oh, and I suppose I should ask the ladies here whether they feel an urge to invite Mr Jarrett Preston Vick – the chap shrieking more than seems strictly necessary – into their changing rooms, public toilets and so forth.

Answers on a postcard, please.

Update 2:

Commenter Aitch adds,

If he behaves that way to a cop…

Well, quite. Again, imagine the possibilities should anyone object to Mr Vick’s intrusion in, say, ladies’ toilets or changing rooms.

There’s plenty more to ponder in those eight minutes. It’s hard to miss the repeated shifting from male bravado – clenched fists, lunging, “Just fucking try it,” etc – to girly shrieking, bag clutching and feigned helplessness – to literally stamping like a toddler. The words erratic and surreal scarcely cover it.

And then there are the repeated attempts by Mr Vick to frame his own behaviour as the fault of someone else. They pushed his buttons, etc. As if he shouldn’t be expected to exert any self-restraint in any situation. And all while refusing every opportunity to de-escalate the exchange by doing as he’s told.

This is someone who seems very much accustomed to exemptions and deference – presumably, from people who are fearful of similar domineering meltdowns. This perverse immunity from normal expectations of behaviour, and normal moral consequences, has been touched on here several times, with suitably vivid and rather sinister illustrations.

And I tend to think that such behaviour can only be corrected, however briefly and at least to some extent, when it collides with something harder, something that does not defer.




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