Friday, December 4, 2015

Feelings... Nothing More than Feelings

"The truth is subjective and the court has lost perspective
And what is your objection here?
You are guilty
You are found guilty of every crime under the sun"

Ego Likeness - Burn Witch Burn

If anyone on the outside hasn't heard, we've been having a lot of fun these past few years in the states with cops and vigilantes shooting black people for the lulz. Well, not that they'd come out and say that. The guy who, when a drunken nineteen-year-old girl who'd just crashed her car knocked on his door at 4 a.m., stuck a shotgun in her face and blew her brains out, claimed he was afraid his house was being robbed. Yes, because nothing screams "robbery" like someone walking up your driveway and beating on your front door. But then, logic has no place in this argument. In the same recurring sad refrain to every new stanza of this "stand your ground" routine, he felt endangered. Brown people are scary.

Let's switch tracks a bit.

Richard Dawkins is an evolutionary biologist who had won a fair bit of fame by the '80s as a chief proponent of gene-centered evolution, which though I can't say I generally agree with after reading The Selfish Gene, certainly adds a fascinating dimension to the other proposed levels of natural selection (genome, organism, group, etc.) He also appears to have come up with the "meme" meme, and for that the internet owes him its everlasting thanks. After the turn of the millennium he leveraged his respectability and erudition toward combating the growing religious fundamentalist revival in Britain and the U.S. and has become probably the second most famous figurehead of atheism around these parts after Bill Maher.
Rebecca Watson is nominally also an atheist. I say nominally because I can only remember one impression of her outside this scandal in some youtube video and I would have described her as a glib but incoherent catchphrase-machine. Her chief skill seems to lie in abusing her cuteness to make the audience swallow anything that comes out of her mouth.

Has anyone not heard of "Elevatorgate" yet? After a 2011 conference, Watson was apparently approached by someone who'd just watched her talk and asked if she'd like to go back to his room for "coffee" while they were riding the elevator together. After her refusal nothing else happened but she decided she was being "sexually objectified" and in fine feminist form spun the non-incident into metaphorical rape. Because, you see, he had asked a question while they were alone... in an elevator! Oh, the humanity! I suppose it would have been highly preferable for him to walk up to the podium while she was still giving her speech and blurt out "heya, you'se hot, ya wanna do it?"

Dawkins rightly ridiculed his fellow atheist for her self-serving victim simulacrum. The entire world rushed to defend poor helpless Becky from mean old Dickie, and the rest is history. Never mind that Watson had no imaginable reason to play the victim in a situation which involved no more than a couple of polite sentences. The poor sap who propositioned her was even one of her fanboys. He wasn't watching her bathroom window through binoculars, wasn't following her through the park with mirrors on his shoe-tips, wasn't chasing her down a dark alley, but had actually listened to her talk and thought her an interesting person so he asked a private question in private. No matter. Men are evil. Becky felt ooky and that's all the justification she needed to attack him. See, it's how you fheeeeeeelll that matters, not anything so frivolous as reason or fair-mindedness.

Switch again.

A couple of years before Dawkins learned the hard way that no amount of logic trumps the political correctness fiat of a pair of ovaries and a neotenized girlish face, I was driving home from work. While waiting at a stoplight I accidentally lifted my foot off the brake and slid forward a meter or so into the car in front of me (which was, incidentally, worth about three times mine) so we pulled off the busy road into a mini-mall parking lot to inspect the damage. The car turned out to be inhabited by two teenage girls. The damage? The bumper was not broken or dented, the paint not even scratched or even indented as can happen with polymers. The force of the impact had barely left marks in the dust on the paint.
Relieved, I walked to my own car to inspect the front bumper. Then as I turned around thinking we could probably skip the insurance-info routine, the two girls are standing shoulder to shoulder, heroically defiant against my (apparently) threatening presence, waving a cell-phone in the air and yelling "the police are on their way!"

See, apparently even though I was calmly walking around inspecting the cars, there was no possible explanation but that I was just about to jump the both of them in a wide open parking lot in broad daylight and rape them both by the side of a busy six-lane intersection.
So a few minutes later, enter flatfoot #whatever who politely asks me to step into the back of his van while he discusses everything with my poor victims. Fifteen minutes of squinting at their rear bumper trying to discern... anything... he finally starts to get wise and comes take my own statement. Fuming at the lack of immediate police brutality in response to their damsel in distress routine, the ditzes up the ante, repeating over and over again that "no, he hit us pretty hard!" An ambulance had to be called in and one of them (did they flip a coin or what?) was wheeled out on a gurney with a neck-brace.
Long story short: my insurance settled the resulting whiplash lawsuit. I washed my hands of the whole thing after sending them a photo of my car's unblemished front end. I have to wonder how quickly the cop would've called bullshit if bearded, Adam-appled little old me were accusing two teenage girls of vehicular dusticide.
But they hit me pretty hard!

Switch to another track, because this train-yard's got a helluva lot of them.

While taking a 400-level anthropology course last spring I sent a couple of e-mails to my professor questioning the excesses of anthropology, feminism and other areas taken over by post-modern anti-intellectualism. She replied, CC-ing her department head, that I was causing a hostile environment and was invited in no uncertain terms to drop the course or disciplinary measures would be taken.

Don't like that track? Here's another:

I live in a small university town now. My mother visited me last fall. One of my neighbors, a beefy midwestern ceiling-tall American Football player, was descending the stairs as we went up. He passed me calmly enough, both edging an arm out of the way. Then he spotted my mother and immediately flattened his massive form against the wall until she passed. My mother, sheltered innocent that she is, was for her part utterly perplexed by this behavior in the younger generation.
By the time males reach college age, they have internalized so much feminist vitriol that he knew, absolutely knew, that to so much as breathe on a passing woman would invite rape accusations.
Men are evil, and it doesn't matter whether he did anything wrong or not. If she feels like he's creating a hostile environment, if she feels like he's "hit her pretty hard" or if she fheeeeeeelllls like condemning his behavior, no matter how benign, the entire world will rush to her defense.

The left wing routinely condemns right-wing shock jocks for feeding racial panic, for providing gun-toting rednecks with the moral justification to attack blacks, hispanics, middle-easterners, or whoever the scapegoat of the week might be, as recently exemplified in the big leagues by Donald Trump's now famous slurs against Mexicans or more amusingly in the "war on Christmas." Such charlatans leech hefty pay-offs off whichever segment of the population they target by feeding its false entitlement and fabricating constant panic that the whatevers and whoevers are coming to get them.
Feminism is the left wing's most prominent counterpart to such parasitism. It is an industry based on vilifying men as innately evil. Not that most women actually believe that 3.7 billion men are lining up around every single corner to rape them or they'd die of sleep deprivation clutching a shotgun in their basements... but it sure is handy to be able to call upon feminist justifications whenever you want, to be able to blame anything in your life on patriarchal tyranny and have any man ostracized on a whim, ain't it? If any man questions your presumptions of his guilt and original sin, if he fails to genuflect and meekly accept the latest chauvinistic diatribe equating the mere existence of masculinity or worse yet male sexual enjoyment with every evil under the sun from puppy-kicking to cancer, then he's "creating a hostile environment" and the system will gladly have him removed.

No, women are not shooting men like redneck cops are gunning down black boys, it's true. They get their boyfriends to do their dirty work for them, or barring that, a legal system which has institutionalized feminist prejudice. The precept, however, is the same. People will gladly give you money if you tell them their feelings pre-empt reality and all of their emotions are justified, and there's a helluva lot of entitlement to reap when your potential audience comprises over half the population and the second half is instinctively programmed to protect and provide for the first. Just remember, women have different ways of knowing. Always believe women, even if you cant find a scratch on the bumper.
Of course men should live in terror of accidentally brushing up against a woman in a stairwell or worse yet, an elevator. You're evil. You patriarchal sexist pig shitlord.

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