Thursday, May 29, 2014

Hate Speechers Gonna Speech

We all know what hate speech is. It's Cliven Bundy using the word "Negro." (It's okay when Joe Biden or Harry Reid uses it, somehow.) It's pointing out that little girls just naturally like to play with dolls. It's saying something less than totally enthusiastic about intermarriage, like pointing out that it's not the best career path for young White ladies. It's mentioning that Chechens tend to act like Chechens, or that Sub-Saharan Africa is a hopeless mess. Strangely, saying that the Israelis give the Palestinians a raw deal is hate speech, and mentioning that Palestinian immigrants to the US just might not be the most desirable (see Fort Hood) is also hate speech. Essentially, it's anything a White male gentile says that has anything at all to do with race, ethnicity, or sex, unless he's screeching that race, ethnicity, and sex have no meaning whatsoever.

And the worst kind of hate speech, as Karol Traven reminds us, is the true kind.

Well, we're all racists, of course, all us White guys, anyway, and one of the worst of us all is Fred. And here, from his site at http://www.fredoneverything.net/, he owns up to it at last:

The Confessions of St. Fred

Acknowledges Vertebrate Privilege

May 24, 2004
I am done for, and damned. Yes, a poor sinner who has strayed from the path of righteousness, and now sits brooding over a bottle of Padre Kino, Mexican rust-remover marauding as red wine, for I have done the unpardonable: I have said--I cringe with shame--that some cultures are superior to others.

It gnaws my soul.

Please don’t misjudge me. I am in most respects a good American. I have nothing against brainless, passive-aggressive, narcissistic sanctimony, nor preening academic mediocrity, nor intellectual vacuity. No. I tell you, I love all of these things. I am devoted to our traditions. I believe to the roots of my teeth that bovine complacency is the bedrock of democracy. Indeed, the only criticism I can make of our national intellectual life is that it would embarrass a microcephalic box-turtle.

Oh god. Wait. I didn’t mean to imply that microcephalic box-turtles are in any way inferior. They are just otherly abled. I apologize, and acknowledge my Vertebrate Privilege.

Let me recount my fall from grace as a warning to those that will hear. Long ago, a callow youth, I was reading the Huffington Post (this column has no respect for chronology), which informed me that no culture is superior to any other: They are just different. To think otherwise, it huffed, was to concede oneself to be among the Fallen, and perhaps a Republican.

I read this and the scales fell from my eyes (though I had no interest in going to Damascus, where they were using nerve gas). I thought, Yes! It’s true! Hosanna! All cultures are equal! Jewish culture is not superior to Nazi, just different. Why hadn’t I seen it before? The culture of Switzerland is not betterthan that of North Korea, and the South of Bull Conner was in no way inferior to the most dappled, liquid-eyed liberalism of Massachusetts!

For years I believed this, enraptured, and prattled like a jaybird. I was among the Saved. Then…Woe! Woe!...Padre Kino got the best of me. Oh, Demon Rum! Drink has ever been my downfall (and uplift, and maybe side-straddle. After a couple of bottles, it’s hard to tell.)

Anyway, I was in my cups and, prompted by the Devil, thought: All cultures equal? Exactly how is a pack of nekkid savages in the rain forests of Papua-New Guinea, who eat weird pasty white grubs and each other, who speak a language consisting of seven word none of which means anything, who have never even heard of Carlos Santana—how could they possibly be the equals of Europeans who brush their teeth and wrote Hamlet’s soliloquy? Equal how? In the eyes of God, maybe. If so, I figured the Old Boy must need glasses.

So low had I sunk.

Floating in the vile effluvium of the corrupting grape, I engendered worse thoughts. Regarding Islam, for example. How equal was this medieval horror? Here is a faith that will not let its girl children learn to read, and indeed holds them down screaming and mutilates their genitals with a razor blade and no anesthetic. Equal? To what? If to anything at all, I decided to avoid both. I have daughters. I don’t care how dry a Moslem’s head may be, if he came near my kids, he would eat a baseball bat.
You see. Wine. Booze. The Great Purple Father was making me lose all devotion to equality. Shun strong liquor, I implore you, lest you start to favor the death penalty for such victims of intolerance as Ted Bundy, who was misunderstood by society.

But back to Islam. Before, alight with the equality of all cultures, I had thought clitoridectomy to be a minor surgery, not much different from sending girls to Wellesley. Actually, Wellesley had seemed worse, as on campus girls underwent forced exposure to oppressive dead white men like Plato, while Moslem girls faced nothing worse than gangrene.  But suddenly I wasn’t sure. My Huffington-flavored faith wavered.

I even reflected at one point that European culture had invented everything that kept many of the rest from living in the animal shelter. Where they would probably eat the animals.
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See how awful he is? For the rest of his self-criticism in an attempt at redemption, you must go to Fred's site HERE.
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Quibcag: For no other reason than that I wanted her to, Hinagiku Katsura (桂 ヒナギク Katsura Hinagiku) from Hayate the Combat Butler (ハヤテのごとく!, Hayate no Gotoku!) illustrates this quibcag.

1 comment:

  1. You should do a Re-L Mayer quibcag with Re-L aiming her shotgun and the caption being "Gunners Gonna Gun."

    ReplyDelete