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.

And then acting all surprised. Via the comments, a conundrum for our times:

Hire or fire? 🔥 pic.twitter.com/6RdKKS4heF

— 🌈 Tess T. Eccles-Brown, PhD (@TTEcclesBrown) October 21, 2023

In the comments, Jen replies,

The above does seem to be yet another variation of, “I’ve chosen to send a round-the-clock provocative, anti-social message. Why are people noticing my round-the-clock provocative, anti-social message?”

And when someone, a supposed adult, goes out of their way to announce that they have the mindset of a resentful, unhappy teenager, it seems wise to register that message and to respond accordingly. Say, by hiring someone else.

From deep in the archives, this came to mind:

The archived post, linked above, prompted a long and lively discussion in which we noticed the number of Observer readers who feel that Mr Clark and other body-modification enthusiasts are entitled to be hired regardless of how they present themselves to an employer (and to that employer’s customers). As if contrarian choices should never have real-world consequences of an unflattering kind. As if actively choosing to make one’s chances of employment slimmer and more perilous were a thing to be both applauded and rewarded.

Update, via the comments:

Regarding our aggrieved FedEx employee, sk60 adds,

To which, Old Glyn replies, drily,

It might, I think, be amusing to watch the FedEx HR department trying to devise coherent rules as to which employees are allowed to wear such items, and which aren’t, based on the employee’s melanin levels and sexual inclinations. And then having to factor in whether any given customer, of any hue and/or inclination, might find such items equally charming when being handed their parcels.

Readers may also wish to ponder the apparent need to share such adornment dramas with the world, with random strangers, via social media. As if one were the subject of a gripping documentary series. Or a reality-TV star, albeit on a budget. And so, our supposedly downtrodden exhibitionist boasts of defying his employer in a TikTok video that can easily be found by said employer.

Which prompts the thought that, for some, the need for drama and attention, and contrived victimhood, may trump the more mundane need for employment, at least for a while. And should our hero’s employment consequently be discontinued, we can presumably look forward to more videos professing new heights of martyrdom.

Also, open thread. Share ye links and bicker.

Come, let us turn to the pages of Men’s Health, where Zachary Zane, a “sex writer, author, and ethical Boyslut,” answers “pressing sex questions with thorough, actionable advice.”

“Boyslut,” by the way, is,

Not just open, but very, very open.

You see,

Hundreds of people. Of all genders. Hold that thought.

Now, on to the meat of things – the problem faced by Men’s Health reader, Small and Scared:

For the sake of those with delicate sensibilities, I’ll spare you much of the subsequent reply, which concerns insecurities, dodgy surgeries, and “a world obsessed with penis size.” However, the following did catch the eye.

Says Mr Zane,

At which point, readers may note a curious, rather mannered choice of language, an odd asymmetry. Throughout the piece, men are referred to as, well, men; while women – the sex equipped with vulvas and such – are acknowledged as “a person with a vulva,” or “vulva-owners,” or as some disembodied “vulva,” on which sex is performed.

As if one were being intimate only with an abstracted set of genitals, and not with the woman of whom those genitals are a part.

Whether women so described are likely to be grateful for this phrasing, and instantly aroused by such erotic poetry, I leave to others. Though I’m now wondering whether the publication in which the above appears should be renamed Prostate-Havers’ Health, or Beings With Penis Health. Something along those lines. Or would that be silly?

Also, open thread. Share ye links and bicker.