William F. Buckley observed that progs claim to want to give a hearing to other views, but then are shocked and offended to discover that there are other views. One of the most aggravating attributes displayed by them is their desperation to avoid responsibility for anything bad that happens to them as a result of their own actions. Millennial progs are particularly adept at offloading all types of responsibility to others. It’s instinctive for them, and they can never be made to see that they’re doing it. It’s autonomic, like breathing or blinking. It’s how they’ve been raised. It’s just who they are.
Over the past two days I squandered an hour or two (that I would love to have back) defending some simple advice I offered on someone else’s Facebook timeline regarding the ubiquitous narcissistic practice of making and accumulating selfies, and more particularly, nude or partially nude selfies.
The outraged mother of a victimized 24-year-old daughter had written a blog piece about “revenge porn”, which describes someone getting hold of “innocent” but private photos and giving them widespread distribution. Start turning over rocks and you won’t be surprised at the capacity for depravity you find. It was pretty straightforward advice, but some pop-eyed Don Quixote almost immediately took issue with my advice (which was simply “Don’t”), characterizing it as an attack on the victims. Nonplussed, I tried my level best to disabuse him of this notion, reiterating that my advice was offered to all people as the most effective means of limiting exposure to predators. The issue of blame was never assigned in my original post. But these people can’t really focus, even for a few minutes.
Libtard herd instinct is irresistible; I call it the Prog Centipede, and I give credit for that to actor Nick Searcy who made a Tweet where I first saw it as “Democrat Centipede.” Soon a howling, outraged chorus developed that can be synopsized thus: “Women should be able to do what they want, go where they want, commit any act of stupidity, and be completely excused from blame for the resulting misery, and advising them on how to avoid the problem is just more of the ‘war on women’ focusing blame on them while excusing the perverts.” Sound familiar?
You can probably guess where it went from there. Soon gay people were dragged in along with prostitutes, johns and gays, and probably Ford trucks. (I know; WTF?) Inevitably, gadflies hauled out the typical (and expected) labels. Racist. Bigot. Bully. Homophobe. Misogynist. Sexist. Contextually, most of these labels made absolutely no sense, but progs don’t see that as relevant. It’s not like they actually think about or understand the terms. They are reactive. Predictable. Dismembered frog’s legs that still twitch when touched. This is how you know they’ve bottomed out, reached the limits of their intellectual capacity and their ability to reason, and it usually happens in short order. They simply repeat their mantra several times with increasing shrillness, then the labels come out. Pavlov would have loved these people. More proof of concept.
Ultimately, the timeline owner asked us to go elsewhere, a blessing. Her thread had been hijacked. What had been offered as simple common-sense advice on the original subject had been transformed into a mean and contentious (and dreary) War of the Words. And I had most of the weapons, which really pissed them off. By then, I was ready to stick an ice pick into my brain for relief anyway, and so happily took my leave. You’ve all been there. Being who I am, I’ll never respond to that person’s stuff again. A lesson I learned early in life is that you can’t have it both ways. It’s either/or. You’re in or you’re out. If you’re “on the fence” and you’re not a bird. a squirrel or some other little creature with a brain smaller than a pecan, you need to get the information you require for a decision, then jump. If you stay on the fence, people will soon see you as a retarded grope. If you have a mind, you can make it up.
This was a useful exercise in one way; it served to remind me of my own contemporary themes: Progs and Americans. I’m not using these two words to describe citizenship, or legal status. It must be obvious how I mean the terms. We are parting like the Red Sea in Biblical lore. We are two (or more) dis-united nations squabbling over territory and political power, and these are irreconcilable differences, don’t doubt that. We can’t go home again. Humpty Dumpty can’t be made whole. We really aren’t “all in this together”, and we haven’t been since the end of WWII. Far from it. We’re as removed from that once-happy place as we can be before the fists and the bullets start flying. We’re right on the cusp. We share neighborhoods, and we work together, because we currently must. We dread what’s coming, but we sense that it is coming. At bottom, we despise one another, and it’s fervent. As a nation, we are in a posture much like we were in immediately preceding the Civil War. America is up for grabs. It could perish from the earth, and maybe it should.
Just as the USSR was a forced agglomeration of disparate cultures with no basis for national unity, the ties that bound us when we were a young nation with common goals and visions have been broken. This isn’t a new idea, or one that I lay claim to. I’ve seen it written and heard it said a lot lately. As for me, progs as persons are unlikable, and as groups intolerable. I don’t care what happens to them any more than I care what happens to Wahhabi Muslims. This is one time when I can generalize without hazard. I see them as smarmy, self-righteous assholes. Loud, intolerant and bigoted, they immediately label others with personality defects that are oozing from their own pores. There’s probably a neat psychological term for it, but I don’t know it. I subscribe to P.J. O’Rourke’s wonderfully pithy observation because it can’t be better said; “At the core of liberalism is the spoiled child—miserable, as all spoiled children are, unsatisfied, demanding, ill-disciplined, despotic and useless. Liberalism is a philosophy of sniveling brats.”
Consequently, I’ve sworn off any attempt to reach out, to educate, to convince, to convert. In fact, I’m writing progs off. One and all. Each and every one. I won’t spend another second in discourse with them, though I reserve the option to ridicule and disparage them when I’m in that mood. Immediate family members who are libtards have a conditional and limited exemption from my policy; amnesty of a sort. If I ever loved you, I’ll obviously continue to do so. Can’t help it. I’ll always care about you and help you as and when I can. Let’s just talk about the weather, and enjoy holiday visits (How about those Seahawks?). But please don’t ever (ever) engage me in an examination of ideas, and I promise that I won’t do that to you. If you disregard this boundary, all bets are off, amnesty is revoked, and it’s ON. Let the chips fall where they may.
Finally, if you think you may be a libtard by my reckoning, just ask. I’ll give you an honest answer. Then it might be time to say