Via Mr Muldoon in the comments, umbrage is detected:

The circle of life can be summed up like this: you’re born, you work, pay taxes and then die.

Following generations repeat the process. This girl gets it. pic.twitter.com/ReKTY65ofy

— Dr. Jebra Faushay (@JebraFaushay) November 12, 2023

As this chap quips in reply,

And this one,

Update, via the comments:

Rafi adds,

Well, addressing the matter earlier might have spared our unhappy madam a lot of pierced and tattooed grumpiness.

There is, of course, plenty of scope for grumbling about the seemingly endless range of things that can be taxed. And existential angst – or existential pouting – can be difficult to avoid, the human condition being what it is. See the aforementioned “bug reports to God.” But the emotional assumption that Things Should Just Be There For Me, Forever, In Unlimited Quantities™ is, I think, something best addressed before one’s children venture out into the world.

Children who, as adults, may then make TikTok videos of themselves bemoaning the fact that they aren’t simply being given a free house, and free food, and a free car, and free petrol for the free car. Children who, as adults, may then seem genuinely bewildered by the prospect of being responsible for the feeding and clothing of any children that they, in turn, might have.

Another thing occurs to me. If pretty much everything you need, or want, should just somehow be there anyway, on an indefinite basis, via some oddly unarticulated rearrangement of the universe, then it’s not obvious how gratitude might fit into such a mindset.

Also, open thread.

And in never-happy news:

You are not an ally to the TQ+ unless you affirm every single delusion.

Even if a person goes by all pronouns… using ones that align with their sex is still going to be wrong. pic.twitter.com/7xWXu44v4L

— L G B (@L__G__B) November 6, 2023

She’s “genderfluid,” you see, and “goes by all pronouns.” But if insufficiently pretentious people refer to her as she – i.e., accurately – this simply won’t do and scolding will ensue. And your “ally” status, which you’re supposed to crave and be willing to beg for, will be downgraded to merely “performative.” Despite the claim that she’s, like, you know, totally fine with “all pronouns.”

Because the scolding must never end. The scolding being the point.

Update, via the comments, where Jen adds,

It does seem to be more of a commitment than self-respect – or indeed sanity – would allow. What with the round-the-clock monitoring of pronoun earrings and pronoun bracelets, and double-sided pronoun lanyards, which can of course change, or be combined in absurdly complicated ways, at any point during the day, based on a whim, a mood swing, or a slight change in air pressure.

It would, I think, be simpler to just find some better friends.

Also, open thread. Share ye links and bicker.

Lifted from the comments, an item you may have missed.

In our discussion about The Activist-Wanker Caste and its signature disdain for reciprocation, I wrote:

Well, sometimes an example of what you’re talking about comes along that seems almost too on-the-nose. Specifically,

No, really.

It turns out that Ms Lydia Gribbin, one of the five protestors, had assumed that only other people’s lifestyles should be curtailed, that only other people’s plans can be thwarted with impunity.

Update, via the comments:

I was reminded of this post from deep in the archives, in which former Guardian columnist Mr Sunny Hundal boasted of his support for Plane Stupid, an activist group whose members vandalised airports and obstructed runways, disrupting the journeys of thousands of would-be passengers. A group whose pronouncements included “Aviation is mostly unnecessary.”

Mr Hundal wanted us to know that,

Though not, I suspect, quite as much pleasure as his own extensive air travel adventures – flying halfway around the planet, twice, to India then California – adventures that were excitedly announced shortly before his declaration of support for Plane Stupid: “Honestly, I love these guys.”

FredTheFourth adds,

Well, it helps to bear in mind that such ostentatious pieties are very often a kind of camouflage for quite vain and obnoxious people. People whose own hypocrisies and dishonesties, however glaring, do not appear to embarrass them, or alter their behaviour. Consequently, yes, they’re difficult to shame.

They’re the kind of unspanked little tossers who gleefully vandalise petrol stations, rendering them unusable, while applauding themselves, and who conflate “not being heard” with not being obeyed. The kind of preening dolts who film themselves pouring oil onto busy roads, an act morally analogous to sabotaging the brakes of random cars and motorbikes.

This is who they are.

These are people for whom vandalising art galleries, with hammers, and physically obstructing thousands of people, including emergency vehicles, for hours, and doing it over and over again – is somehow “peaceful,” benign, and terribly high-minded.

From here, it looks more like a narcissist’s power game, a kind of recreational sociopathy. I mean, if someone gets their jollies from screwing over random people and watching their victims’ exasperation and pleading – if that’s what makes our mighty warriors feel powerful and important – then the term recreational sociopathy does not seem inapt.

Incoming plot twist:

I’ll give you a moment to steady yourselves. What with the shock and all.

Ms Xahra Saleem, formerly Yvonne Maina, is a co-founder of the activist group All Black Lives Bristol, and was hailed by Rife magazine as one of Bristol’s “most influential under-30s.” Ms Saleem’s merry band of megaphone-waving statue-topplers have been the subject of endless gushing and deferential commentary, with the local university subsequently promising to “decolonise” All Of The Oppressive Things.

Discarded placards and assorted detritus from the group’s protests were fondled reverentially by staff of the local museum and stored for later worship as holy artefacts.

Ms Saleem’s trajectory of righteousness will, one assumes, also be a subject of study by tomorrow’s progressive devotees:

To borrow from Father Ted, the money was just resting in her account.

Those general lifestyle expenses included Uber taxi rides totalling £5,800, spent in a mere eleven months, and a remarkable amount of hairstyling. Readers may wish to ponder the degree to which disparities in life outcomes, which so animate Ms Saleem’s organisation, may be explained by Ms Saleem’s own frivolous spending choices and the mindset they imply.

At which point, as you’d imagine, some awkwardness ensued:

No laughing at the back.

Subsequently quizzed on her prodigious appropriation of other people’s money, Ms Saleem explained,

And, somewhat belatedly, apologies were offered.

Dramatic pause.

Ms Saleem can be seen here, suitably shrouded in piety, shortly before being sentenced to two and a half years in prison.

Also, open thread. Share ye links and bicker.

Are you ready for a “genderqueer planet”? Of course you are. And obviously, you have questions.

Thank goodness a teacher walks among us, a guide to what lies ahead. Meet Laura (formerly Lawrence) Jacobs, a man who describes himself as “trans and genderqueer-identified, kinky and non-monogamous,” and as a “lesbian” with “multiple intersecting identities.” And – because the universe has a sense of humour – a psychotherapist.

Above, Mr Jacobs and his lingerie.

When not offering his expertise to prostitutes and “unicorns,” and devotees of polyamory and nipple clamps, Mr Jacobs shares his feverish visions with those less enlightened:

It’s all terribly exciting:

Get ready for flowerplasty https://t.co/gj5MQlgsUG

— Σ𝕏ulansic 🦎 (@TTExulansic) October 25, 2023

Readers with a taste for “empowered acts of self-creation,” and an unstable sense of self, will find much to chew on. The promise of wonders as yet unimagined. Because those bizarre, prosthetic pseudo-genitals will be “valid and valued.” And crowds will surely come.

Though given the limitations of current technology, as illustrated vividly here, you may have to wait a while.

Still, while you look forward to all those below-the-belt upgrades, you could always book a Zoom session and whet that appetite. You see, Mr Jacobs is more than a mere psychotherapist. He’s a full-on guru, practically a messiah:

Yes, those repeatedly mutilated novelty genitals – the ones that, if you squint, look like flowers or abstract sculpture – will light the way.

Batteries not included.