My feeling is, Political Correctness is a seemingly never ending assault of dirty glass shards thrown at people, and the whole thing is rigged from the get go, so that you can never get them all out. But you do try.
Well, I do.
I try to be less UN PC. The prayer is, more or less: “God, help me be indignant the way I would be if I were good, instead of bad.”
Indignation is the building material to identity–it is how and what with, you put yourself together. “Take offense, citizen!”
Donald Trump is like Lego For The People Building Themselves As Good. By hating him. All he has to do is speak.
PC is such a clarifying medium.
TWO types of people exist. Those who do not detest PC, think it’s “important,” and those who do, think it’s Satan’s work; I am firmly the latter.
What I hate most about PC is the willful destruction of reality. The craze for hygiene of the mind and word. The destruction of the scientific method, of course. Of journalism, of course. And the destruction of the intuitive, erotic order between men and women.
Still, in recent years, I fond myself always trying to become a bit more PC so I could recover from all the brain injuries caused by not being PC in the golden age of PC tyranny. They really beat you up, especially if you are correct. (Not politically, but actually.) I think those days are over, and the playing field is becoming more leveled.
Last night a mesmerizing interview with “dangerous faggot” as he calls himself, Milo Yiannopoulos, made me laugh so much while making dinner that by the time Ake came home I was in agreement that men have higher IQs, not when measured en masse but in the “Mozart” sense.
Yiannopoulos calls Trump “Daddy.”
I think he’s hilarious. He was born in Greece and dyes his hair platinum because he knows he looks better with dark hair. He said God made him a homosexual so he could attack feminism. He took polls of people asking of they preferred feminism or cancer, and cancer won. Even by survivors.
So, I live with a man.
You should see the way he just BUILDS things around here. He sees an empty space and next thing you know it’s an outdoor deck, or a closet. I could never do what he does. I want to know what it is that makes me not that, but something else. See how I can’t even type the W word?
Is it that I light welcome home candles in the window when I know he is walking home from the ferry, around 6:40 pm?
Listening to the interview (between two conservative gay comedians, one of then Canadian!) I became aware of all these built in defenses about what I “am,” and felt free as a dolphin suddenly embracing the idea of how my brain is not male, let’s just say. I keep wanting to call myself “stupid,” because that would be the true liberation from the whole nightmare. The PC feminist nightmare in which I am expected to demand being validated by society yet can’t ever be.
(The whole deal is off, of course, if you provoke Pharma-Dragon.)
If I said I just want to be WHATEVER God made me to be, you’d say I’d lost my mind out here in the archipelago. Ah! what a great phrase. Can you imagine women wanting to “lose” their minds rather than partake in this grisly never ending battle about intelligence? I would say, instead: “I’m in a reverie. You’d never interrupt a woman in a reverie would you?”
I love to cook. Been cooking since I was 11. I have even begun to love to clean, once I get started.
Milo said it was not at all difficult to be a homosexual, (“I don’t think I’ve ever met a homophobe…”) He said it was WAY harder to come out as a conservative, but coming out as a Trekkie….THAT took guts.
Over candlelit dinner last night, I explained to Ake about the rise of the uber-mensch cult, in the US, around the time of Steve Jobs. Guys like him. How it all used to horrify me, and I felt they were trying to build a woman free world, like they speak of a disease free world, all these glassy eyed young philanthropic billionaires.
“A world without women?” Ake said.
Though it was dark I could see he had true pain on his face.
“That would be no world at all.”
Runmaro, Nov 2, 2016