G Gordon Liddy on Supreme Court Justice nominee, Sonia Sotomayor:
"Let’s hope that the key conferences aren’t when she’s menstruating or something, or just before she’s going to menstruate. That would really be bad. Lord knows what we would get then."
Shouldn't this asshat still be in jail or something?
Saturday 30 May 2009
Lost
So, the desert island appears to have a John Locke and a Desmond David Hume.
I'm just waiting for some cunt called Berkeley to turn up.
I'm just waiting for some cunt called Berkeley to turn up.
Friday 29 May 2009
Twisty Faster - Mensch
Over the last few days, I have thoroughly enjoyed having my consciouness raised by a wonderful individual and exemplary spinster aunt named Jill, and by her erudite alter-ego, Twisty Faster. I have already started to shamelessly copy her, and will continue to do so for the foreseeable future, or until I am half as cool as her. I don't agree with her on everything, but by god is she worth reading.
So yeah, I feel some rants coming.
Please enjoy I Blame The Patriarchy responsibly, especially if you are on blood pressure medication and/or are a misogynist cuntwad. Thank you.
So yeah, I feel some rants coming.
Please enjoy I Blame The Patriarchy responsibly, especially if you are on blood pressure medication and/or are a misogynist cuntwad. Thank you.
Thursday 28 May 2009
Douglas Hofstadter - Mensch
A Person Paper on Purity in Language
William Satire (alias Douglas R. Hofstadter)
From Metamagical Themas: Questing for the Essence of Mind and Pattern, by Douglas R. Hofstadter, Basic Books, 1985.
(Original web version: http://www.bloomington.in.us/~abangert/person.html)
It's high time someone blew the whistle on all the silly prattle about revamping our language to suit the purposes of certain political fanatics. You know what I'm talking about-those who accuse speakers of English of what they call "racism." This awkward neologism, constructed by analogy with the well-established term "sexism," does not sit well in the ears, if I may mix my metaphors. But let us grant that in our society there may be injustices here and there in the treatment of either race from time to time, and let us even grant these people their terms "racism" and "racist." How valid, however, are the claims of the self-proclaimed "black libbers," or "negrists"-those who would radically change our language in order to "liberate" us poor dupes from its supposed racist bias?
Most of the clamor,as you certainly know by now, revolves around the age-old usage of the noun "white" and words built from it, such as chairwhite, mailwhite, repairwhite, clergywhite, middlewhite, Frenchwhite, forewhite, whitepower, whiteslaughter, oneupuwhiteship, straw white, whitehandle, and so on. The negrists claim that using the word "white," either on its own or as a component, to talk about all the members of the human species is somehow degrading to blacks and reinforces racism. Therefore the libbers propose that we substitute "person" everywhere where "white" now occurs. Sensitive speakers of our secretary tongue of course find this preposterous. There is great beauty to a phrase such as "All whites are created equal." Our forebosses who framed the Declaration of Independence well understood the poetry of our language. Think how ugly it would be to say "All persons are created equal," or "All whites and blacks are created equal." Besides, as any schoolwhitey can tell you, such phrases are redundant. In most contexts, it is self-evident when "white" is being used in an inclusive sense, in which case it subsumes members of the darker race just as much as fairskins.
There is nothing denigrating to black people in being subsumed under the rubric "white"-no more than under the rubric "person." After all, white is a mixture of all the colors of the rainbow, including black. Used inclusively, the word "white" has no connotations whatsoever of race. Yet many people are hung up on this point. A prime example is Abraham Moses, one of the more vocal spokeswhites for making such a shift. For years, Niss Moses, authoroon of the well-known negrist tracts A Handbook of Nonracist Writing and Words and Blacks, has had nothing better to do than go around the country making speeches advocating the downfall of "racist language" that ble objects to. But when you analyze bler objections, you find they all fall apart at the seams. Niss Moses says that words like "chairwhite" suggest to people-most especially impressionable young whiteys and blackeys-that all chairwhites belong to the white race. How absurd! It's quite obvious, for instance, that the chairwhite of the League of Black Voters is going to be a black, not a white. Nobody need think twice about it. As a matter of fact, the suffix "white" is usually not pronounced with a long "i" as in the noun "white," but like "wit," as in the terms saleswhite, freshwhite, penwhiteship, first basewhite, and so on. It's just a simple and useful component in building race-neutral words.
But Niss Moses would have you sit up and start hollering "Racism!" In fact, Niss Moses sees evidence of racism under every stone. Ble has written a famous article, in which ble vehemently objects to the immortal and poetic words of the first white on the moon, Captain Nellie Strongarm. If you will recall, whis words were: "One small step for a white, a giant step for whitekind." This noble sentiment is anything but racist; it is simply a celebration of a glorious moment in the history of White.
Another of Niss Moses' shrill objections is to the age-old differentiation of whites from blacks by the third-person pronouns "whe" and "ble." Ble promotes an absurd notion: that what we really need in English is a single pronoun covering both races. Numerous suggestions have been made, such as "pe," "tey," and others, These are all repugnant to the nature of the English language, as the average white in the street will testify, even if whe has no linguistic training whatsoever. Then there are advocates of usages such as "whe or ble," "whis or bler," and so forth. This makes for monstrosities such as the sentence "When the next President takes office, whe or ble will have to choose whis or bler cabinet with great care, for whe or ble would not want to offend any minorities." Contrast this with the spare elegance of the normal way of putting it, and there is no question which way we ought to speak. There are, of course, some yapping black libbers who advocate writing "bl/whe" everywhere, which, aside from looking terrible, has no reasonable pronunciation. Shall we say "blooey" all the time when we simply mean "whe"? Who wants to sound like a white with a chronic sneeze?
One of the more hilarious suggestions made by the squawkers for this point of view is to abandon the natural distinction along racial lines, and to replace it with a highly unnatural one along sexual lines. One such suggestion-emanating, no doubt, from the mind of a madwhite-would have us say "he" for male whites (and blacks) and "she" for female whites (and blacks). Can you imagine the outrage with which sensible folk of either sex would greet this "modest proposal"?
Another suggestion is that the plural pronoun "they" be used in place of the inclusive "whe." This would turn the charming proverb "Whe who laughs last, laughs best" into the bizarre concoction "They who laughs last, laughs best." As if anyone in whis right mind could have thought that the original proverb applied only to the white race! No, we don't need a new pronoun to "liberate" our minds. That's the lazy white's way of solving the pseudoproblem of racism. In any case, it's ungrammatical. The pronoun "they" is a plural pronoun, and it grates on the civilized ear to hear it used to denote only one person. Such a usage, if adopted, would merely promote illiteracy and accelerate the already scandalously rapid nosedive of the average intelligence level in our society.
Niss Moses would have us totally revamp the English language to suit bler purposes. If, for instance, we are to substitute "person" for "white," where are we to stop? If we were to follow Niss Moses' ideas to their logical conclusion, we would have to conclude that ble would like to see small blackeys and whiteys playing the game of "Hangperson" and reading the story of "Snow Person and the Seven Dwarfs." And would ble have us rewrite history to say, "Don't shoot until you see the persons of their eyes"? Will pundits and politicians henceforth issue person papers? Will we now have egg yolks and egg persons? And pledge allegiance to the good old Red, Person, and Blue? Will we sing, "I'm dreaming of a person Christmas"? Say of a frightened white, "Whe's person as a sheet!"? Lament the increase of person-collar crime? Thrill to the chirping of bobpersons in our gardens? Ask a friend to person the table while we go visit the persons'room? Come off it, Niss Moses-don't personwash our language!
What conceivable harm is there in such beloved phrases as "No white is an island," "Dog is white's best friend," or "White's inhumanity to white"? Who would revise such classic book titles as Bronob Jacowski's The Ascent of White or Eric Steeple Bell's Whites of Mathematics? Did the poet who wrote "The best-laid plans of mice and whites gang aft agley" believe that blacks' plans gang ne'er agley? Surely not! Such phrases are simply metaphors: everyone can see beyond that. Whe who interprets them as reinforcing racism must have a perverse desire to feel oppressed.
"Personhandling" the language is a habit that not only Niss Moses but quite a few others have taken up recently For instance, Nrs. Delilah Buford has urged that we drop the useful distinction between "Niss" and "Nrs." (which, as everybody knows, is pronounced "Nissiz," the reason for which nobody knows!). Bler argument is that there is no need for the public to know whether a black is employed or not. Need is, of course, not the point. Ble conveniently sidesteps the fact that there is a tradition in our society of calling unemployed blacks "Niss" and employed blacks "Nrs." Most blacks-in fact, the vast ma jority-prefer it that way. They want the world to know what their employment status is, and for good reason. Unemployed blacks want prospective employers to know they are available, without having to ask embarrassing questions. Likewise, employed blacks are proud of having found a job, and wish to let the world know they are employed. This distinction provides a sense of security to all involved, in that everyone knows where ble fits into the scheme of things.
But Nrs. Buford refuses to recognize this simple truth. Instead, ble shiftily turns the argument into one about whites, asking why it is that whites are universally addressed as "Master," without any differentiation between employed and unemployed ones. The answer, of course, is that in America and other Northern societies, we set little store by the employment status of whites, Nrs. Buford can do little to change that reality, for it seems to be tied to innate biological differences between whites and blacks. Many white-years of research, in fact, have gone into trying to understand why it is that employment status matters so much to black, yet relatively little to whites. It is true that both races have a longer life expectancy if employed, but of course people often do not act so as to maximize their life expectancy. So far, it remains a mystery. In any case, whites and blacks clearly have different constitutional inclinations, and different goals in life. And so I say, Vive na différence!
As for Nrs. Buford's suggestion that both "Niss" and "Nrs." be unified into the single form of address "Ns." (supposed to rhyme with "fizz"), all I have to say is, it is arbitrary and clearly a thousand years ahead of its time. Mind you, this "Ns. " is an abbreviation concocted out of thin air: it stands for absolutely nothing. Who ever heard of such toying with language? And while we're on this subject, have you yet run across the recently founded Ns. magazine, dedicated to the concerns of the "liberated black"? It's sure to attract the attention of a trendy band of black airheads for a little while, but serious blacks surely will see through its thin veneer of slick, glossy Madison Avenue approaches to life.
Nrs. Buford also finds it insultingly asymmetric that when a black is employed by a white, ble changes bler firmly name to whis firmly name. But what's so bad about that? Every firm's core consists of a boss (whis job is to make sure long-term policies are well charted out) and a secretary (bler job is to keep corporate affairs running smoothly on a day-to-day basis). They are both equally important and vital to the firm's success. No one disputes this. Beyond them there may of course be other firmly members. Now it's quite obvious that all members of a given firm should bear the same firmly name-otherwise, what are you going to call the firm's products? And since it would be nonsense for the boss to change whis name, it falls to the secretary to change bler name. Logic, not racism, dictates this simple convention.
What puzzles me the most is when people cut off their nose to spite their faces. Such is the case with the time-honored colored suffixes "oon" and "roon," found in familiar words such as ambassadroon, stewardoon, and sculptroon. Most blacks find it natur al and sensible to add those suffixes onto -nouns such as "aviator" or "waiter." A black who flies an airplane may proudly proclaim, "I'm an aviatroon!" But it would sound silly, if not ridiculous, for a black to say of blerself, "I work as a waiter." On the other hand, who could object to my saying that the lively Ticely Cyson is a great actroon, or that the hilarious Quill Bosby is a great comedioon? You guessed it-authoroons such as Niss Mildred Hempsley and Nrs. Charles White, both of whom angrily reject the appellation "authoroon," deep though its roots are in our language. Nrs. White, perhaps one of the finest poetoons of our day, for some reason insists on being known as a "poet." It leads on to wonder, is Nrs. White ashamed of being black, perhaps? I should hope not. White needs Black, and Black needs White, and neither race should feel ashamed.
Some extreme negrists object to being treated with politeness and courtesy by whites. For example, they reject the traditional notion of "Negroes first," preferring to open doors for themselves, claiming that having doors opened for them suggest implicitly that society considers them inferior. Well, would they have it the other way? Would these incorrigible grousers prefer to open doors for whites? What do blacks want?
Another unlikely word has recently become a subject of controversy: "blackey." This is, of course, the ordinary term for black children (including teenagers), and by affectionate extension it is often applied to older blacks. Yet, incredible though it seems, many blacks-even teen-age blackeys-now claim to have had their "consciousness raised," and are voguishly skittish about being called "blackeys." Yet it's as old as the hills for blacks employed in the same office to refer to themselves as "the office blackeys," And for their superior to call them "my blackeys" helps make the ambiance more relaxed and comfy for all. It's hardly the mortal insult that libbers claim it to be. Fortunately, most blacks are sensible people and realize that mere words do not demean; they know it's how they are used that counts. Most of the time, calling a black-especially an older black-a "blackey" is a thoughtful way of complimenting bler, making bler feel young, fresh, and hirable again. Lord knows, I certainly wouldn't object if someone told me that I looked whiteyish these days!
Many young blackeys go through a stage of wishing they had been born white. Perhaps this is due to popular television shows like Superwhite and Batwhite, but it doesn't really matter. It is perfectly normal and healthy. Many of our most successful blacks were once tomwhiteys and feel no shame about it. Why should they? Frankly, I think tomwhiteys are often the cutest little blackeys-but that's just my opinion. In any case, Niss Moses (once again) raises a ruckus on this score, asking why we don't have a corresponding word for young whiteys who play blackeys' games and generally manifest a desire to be black. Well, Niss Moses, if this were a common phenomenon, we most assuredly would have such a word, but it just happens not to be. Who can say why? But given that tomwhiteys are a dime a dozen, it's nice to have a word for them. The lesson is that White must learn to fit language to reality; White cannot manipulate the world by manipulating mere words. An elementary lesson, to be sure, but for some reason Niss Moses and others of bler ilk resist learning it.
Shifting from the ridiculous to the sublime, let us consider the Holy Bible. The Good Book is of course the source of some of the most beautiful language and profound imagery to be found anywhere. And who is the central character of the Bible? I am sure I need hardly remind you; it is God. As everyone knows, Whe is male and white, and that is an indisputable fact. But have you heard the latest joke promulgated by tasteless negrists? It is said that one of them died and went to Heaven and then returned. What did ble report? "I have seen God, and guess what? Ble's female!" Can anyone say that this is not blasphemy of the highest order? It just goes to show that some people will stoop to any depths in order to shock. I have shared this "joke" with a number of friends of mine (including several blacks, by the way), and, to a white, they have agreed that it sickens them to the core to see Our Lord so shabbily mocked. Some things are just in bad taste, and there are no two ways about it. It is scum like this who are responsible for some of the great problems in our society today, I am sorry to say.
Well, all of this is just another skirmish in the age-old Battle of the Races, I guess, and we shouldn't take it too seriously. I am reminded of words spoken by the great British philosopher Alfred West Malehead in whis commencement address to my alma secretaria the University of North Virginia: "To enrich the language of whites is, certainly, to enlarge the range of their ideas." I agree with this admirable sentiment wholeheartedly. I would merely point out to the overzealous that there are some extravagant notions about language that should be recognized for what they are: cheap attempts to let dogmatic, narrow minds enforce their views on the speakers lucky enough to have inherited the richest, most beautiful and flexible language on earth, a language whose traditions run back through the centuries to such deathless poets as Milton, Shakespeare, Wordsworth, Keats, Walt Whitwhite, and so many others... Our language owes an incalculable debt to these whites for their clarity of vision and expression, and if the shallow minds of bandwagon-jumping negrists succeed in destroying this precious heritage for all whites of good will, that will be, without any doubt, a truly female day in the history of Northern White.
William Satire (alias Douglas R. Hofstadter)
From Metamagical Themas: Questing for the Essence of Mind and Pattern, by Douglas R. Hofstadter, Basic Books, 1985.
(Original web version: http://www.bloomington.in.us/~abangert/person.html)
It's high time someone blew the whistle on all the silly prattle about revamping our language to suit the purposes of certain political fanatics. You know what I'm talking about-those who accuse speakers of English of what they call "racism." This awkward neologism, constructed by analogy with the well-established term "sexism," does not sit well in the ears, if I may mix my metaphors. But let us grant that in our society there may be injustices here and there in the treatment of either race from time to time, and let us even grant these people their terms "racism" and "racist." How valid, however, are the claims of the self-proclaimed "black libbers," or "negrists"-those who would radically change our language in order to "liberate" us poor dupes from its supposed racist bias?
Most of the clamor,as you certainly know by now, revolves around the age-old usage of the noun "white" and words built from it, such as chairwhite, mailwhite, repairwhite, clergywhite, middlewhite, Frenchwhite, forewhite, whitepower, whiteslaughter, oneupuwhiteship, straw white, whitehandle, and so on. The negrists claim that using the word "white," either on its own or as a component, to talk about all the members of the human species is somehow degrading to blacks and reinforces racism. Therefore the libbers propose that we substitute "person" everywhere where "white" now occurs. Sensitive speakers of our secretary tongue of course find this preposterous. There is great beauty to a phrase such as "All whites are created equal." Our forebosses who framed the Declaration of Independence well understood the poetry of our language. Think how ugly it would be to say "All persons are created equal," or "All whites and blacks are created equal." Besides, as any schoolwhitey can tell you, such phrases are redundant. In most contexts, it is self-evident when "white" is being used in an inclusive sense, in which case it subsumes members of the darker race just as much as fairskins.
There is nothing denigrating to black people in being subsumed under the rubric "white"-no more than under the rubric "person." After all, white is a mixture of all the colors of the rainbow, including black. Used inclusively, the word "white" has no connotations whatsoever of race. Yet many people are hung up on this point. A prime example is Abraham Moses, one of the more vocal spokeswhites for making such a shift. For years, Niss Moses, authoroon of the well-known negrist tracts A Handbook of Nonracist Writing and Words and Blacks, has had nothing better to do than go around the country making speeches advocating the downfall of "racist language" that ble objects to. But when you analyze bler objections, you find they all fall apart at the seams. Niss Moses says that words like "chairwhite" suggest to people-most especially impressionable young whiteys and blackeys-that all chairwhites belong to the white race. How absurd! It's quite obvious, for instance, that the chairwhite of the League of Black Voters is going to be a black, not a white. Nobody need think twice about it. As a matter of fact, the suffix "white" is usually not pronounced with a long "i" as in the noun "white," but like "wit," as in the terms saleswhite, freshwhite, penwhiteship, first basewhite, and so on. It's just a simple and useful component in building race-neutral words.
But Niss Moses would have you sit up and start hollering "Racism!" In fact, Niss Moses sees evidence of racism under every stone. Ble has written a famous article, in which ble vehemently objects to the immortal and poetic words of the first white on the moon, Captain Nellie Strongarm. If you will recall, whis words were: "One small step for a white, a giant step for whitekind." This noble sentiment is anything but racist; it is simply a celebration of a glorious moment in the history of White.
Another of Niss Moses' shrill objections is to the age-old differentiation of whites from blacks by the third-person pronouns "whe" and "ble." Ble promotes an absurd notion: that what we really need in English is a single pronoun covering both races. Numerous suggestions have been made, such as "pe," "tey," and others, These are all repugnant to the nature of the English language, as the average white in the street will testify, even if whe has no linguistic training whatsoever. Then there are advocates of usages such as "whe or ble," "whis or bler," and so forth. This makes for monstrosities such as the sentence "When the next President takes office, whe or ble will have to choose whis or bler cabinet with great care, for whe or ble would not want to offend any minorities." Contrast this with the spare elegance of the normal way of putting it, and there is no question which way we ought to speak. There are, of course, some yapping black libbers who advocate writing "bl/whe" everywhere, which, aside from looking terrible, has no reasonable pronunciation. Shall we say "blooey" all the time when we simply mean "whe"? Who wants to sound like a white with a chronic sneeze?
One of the more hilarious suggestions made by the squawkers for this point of view is to abandon the natural distinction along racial lines, and to replace it with a highly unnatural one along sexual lines. One such suggestion-emanating, no doubt, from the mind of a madwhite-would have us say "he" for male whites (and blacks) and "she" for female whites (and blacks). Can you imagine the outrage with which sensible folk of either sex would greet this "modest proposal"?
Another suggestion is that the plural pronoun "they" be used in place of the inclusive "whe." This would turn the charming proverb "Whe who laughs last, laughs best" into the bizarre concoction "They who laughs last, laughs best." As if anyone in whis right mind could have thought that the original proverb applied only to the white race! No, we don't need a new pronoun to "liberate" our minds. That's the lazy white's way of solving the pseudoproblem of racism. In any case, it's ungrammatical. The pronoun "they" is a plural pronoun, and it grates on the civilized ear to hear it used to denote only one person. Such a usage, if adopted, would merely promote illiteracy and accelerate the already scandalously rapid nosedive of the average intelligence level in our society.
Niss Moses would have us totally revamp the English language to suit bler purposes. If, for instance, we are to substitute "person" for "white," where are we to stop? If we were to follow Niss Moses' ideas to their logical conclusion, we would have to conclude that ble would like to see small blackeys and whiteys playing the game of "Hangperson" and reading the story of "Snow Person and the Seven Dwarfs." And would ble have us rewrite history to say, "Don't shoot until you see the persons of their eyes"? Will pundits and politicians henceforth issue person papers? Will we now have egg yolks and egg persons? And pledge allegiance to the good old Red, Person, and Blue? Will we sing, "I'm dreaming of a person Christmas"? Say of a frightened white, "Whe's person as a sheet!"? Lament the increase of person-collar crime? Thrill to the chirping of bobpersons in our gardens? Ask a friend to person the table while we go visit the persons'room? Come off it, Niss Moses-don't personwash our language!
What conceivable harm is there in such beloved phrases as "No white is an island," "Dog is white's best friend," or "White's inhumanity to white"? Who would revise such classic book titles as Bronob Jacowski's The Ascent of White or Eric Steeple Bell's Whites of Mathematics? Did the poet who wrote "The best-laid plans of mice and whites gang aft agley" believe that blacks' plans gang ne'er agley? Surely not! Such phrases are simply metaphors: everyone can see beyond that. Whe who interprets them as reinforcing racism must have a perverse desire to feel oppressed.
"Personhandling" the language is a habit that not only Niss Moses but quite a few others have taken up recently For instance, Nrs. Delilah Buford has urged that we drop the useful distinction between "Niss" and "Nrs." (which, as everybody knows, is pronounced "Nissiz," the reason for which nobody knows!). Bler argument is that there is no need for the public to know whether a black is employed or not. Need is, of course, not the point. Ble conveniently sidesteps the fact that there is a tradition in our society of calling unemployed blacks "Niss" and employed blacks "Nrs." Most blacks-in fact, the vast ma jority-prefer it that way. They want the world to know what their employment status is, and for good reason. Unemployed blacks want prospective employers to know they are available, without having to ask embarrassing questions. Likewise, employed blacks are proud of having found a job, and wish to let the world know they are employed. This distinction provides a sense of security to all involved, in that everyone knows where ble fits into the scheme of things.
But Nrs. Buford refuses to recognize this simple truth. Instead, ble shiftily turns the argument into one about whites, asking why it is that whites are universally addressed as "Master," without any differentiation between employed and unemployed ones. The answer, of course, is that in America and other Northern societies, we set little store by the employment status of whites, Nrs. Buford can do little to change that reality, for it seems to be tied to innate biological differences between whites and blacks. Many white-years of research, in fact, have gone into trying to understand why it is that employment status matters so much to black, yet relatively little to whites. It is true that both races have a longer life expectancy if employed, but of course people often do not act so as to maximize their life expectancy. So far, it remains a mystery. In any case, whites and blacks clearly have different constitutional inclinations, and different goals in life. And so I say, Vive na différence!
As for Nrs. Buford's suggestion that both "Niss" and "Nrs." be unified into the single form of address "Ns." (supposed to rhyme with "fizz"), all I have to say is, it is arbitrary and clearly a thousand years ahead of its time. Mind you, this "Ns. " is an abbreviation concocted out of thin air: it stands for absolutely nothing. Who ever heard of such toying with language? And while we're on this subject, have you yet run across the recently founded Ns. magazine, dedicated to the concerns of the "liberated black"? It's sure to attract the attention of a trendy band of black airheads for a little while, but serious blacks surely will see through its thin veneer of slick, glossy Madison Avenue approaches to life.
Nrs. Buford also finds it insultingly asymmetric that when a black is employed by a white, ble changes bler firmly name to whis firmly name. But what's so bad about that? Every firm's core consists of a boss (whis job is to make sure long-term policies are well charted out) and a secretary (bler job is to keep corporate affairs running smoothly on a day-to-day basis). They are both equally important and vital to the firm's success. No one disputes this. Beyond them there may of course be other firmly members. Now it's quite obvious that all members of a given firm should bear the same firmly name-otherwise, what are you going to call the firm's products? And since it would be nonsense for the boss to change whis name, it falls to the secretary to change bler name. Logic, not racism, dictates this simple convention.
What puzzles me the most is when people cut off their nose to spite their faces. Such is the case with the time-honored colored suffixes "oon" and "roon," found in familiar words such as ambassadroon, stewardoon, and sculptroon. Most blacks find it natur al and sensible to add those suffixes onto -nouns such as "aviator" or "waiter." A black who flies an airplane may proudly proclaim, "I'm an aviatroon!" But it would sound silly, if not ridiculous, for a black to say of blerself, "I work as a waiter." On the other hand, who could object to my saying that the lively Ticely Cyson is a great actroon, or that the hilarious Quill Bosby is a great comedioon? You guessed it-authoroons such as Niss Mildred Hempsley and Nrs. Charles White, both of whom angrily reject the appellation "authoroon," deep though its roots are in our language. Nrs. White, perhaps one of the finest poetoons of our day, for some reason insists on being known as a "poet." It leads on to wonder, is Nrs. White ashamed of being black, perhaps? I should hope not. White needs Black, and Black needs White, and neither race should feel ashamed.
Some extreme negrists object to being treated with politeness and courtesy by whites. For example, they reject the traditional notion of "Negroes first," preferring to open doors for themselves, claiming that having doors opened for them suggest implicitly that society considers them inferior. Well, would they have it the other way? Would these incorrigible grousers prefer to open doors for whites? What do blacks want?
Another unlikely word has recently become a subject of controversy: "blackey." This is, of course, the ordinary term for black children (including teenagers), and by affectionate extension it is often applied to older blacks. Yet, incredible though it seems, many blacks-even teen-age blackeys-now claim to have had their "consciousness raised," and are voguishly skittish about being called "blackeys." Yet it's as old as the hills for blacks employed in the same office to refer to themselves as "the office blackeys," And for their superior to call them "my blackeys" helps make the ambiance more relaxed and comfy for all. It's hardly the mortal insult that libbers claim it to be. Fortunately, most blacks are sensible people and realize that mere words do not demean; they know it's how they are used that counts. Most of the time, calling a black-especially an older black-a "blackey" is a thoughtful way of complimenting bler, making bler feel young, fresh, and hirable again. Lord knows, I certainly wouldn't object if someone told me that I looked whiteyish these days!
Many young blackeys go through a stage of wishing they had been born white. Perhaps this is due to popular television shows like Superwhite and Batwhite, but it doesn't really matter. It is perfectly normal and healthy. Many of our most successful blacks were once tomwhiteys and feel no shame about it. Why should they? Frankly, I think tomwhiteys are often the cutest little blackeys-but that's just my opinion. In any case, Niss Moses (once again) raises a ruckus on this score, asking why we don't have a corresponding word for young whiteys who play blackeys' games and generally manifest a desire to be black. Well, Niss Moses, if this were a common phenomenon, we most assuredly would have such a word, but it just happens not to be. Who can say why? But given that tomwhiteys are a dime a dozen, it's nice to have a word for them. The lesson is that White must learn to fit language to reality; White cannot manipulate the world by manipulating mere words. An elementary lesson, to be sure, but for some reason Niss Moses and others of bler ilk resist learning it.
Shifting from the ridiculous to the sublime, let us consider the Holy Bible. The Good Book is of course the source of some of the most beautiful language and profound imagery to be found anywhere. And who is the central character of the Bible? I am sure I need hardly remind you; it is God. As everyone knows, Whe is male and white, and that is an indisputable fact. But have you heard the latest joke promulgated by tasteless negrists? It is said that one of them died and went to Heaven and then returned. What did ble report? "I have seen God, and guess what? Ble's female!" Can anyone say that this is not blasphemy of the highest order? It just goes to show that some people will stoop to any depths in order to shock. I have shared this "joke" with a number of friends of mine (including several blacks, by the way), and, to a white, they have agreed that it sickens them to the core to see Our Lord so shabbily mocked. Some things are just in bad taste, and there are no two ways about it. It is scum like this who are responsible for some of the great problems in our society today, I am sorry to say.
Well, all of this is just another skirmish in the age-old Battle of the Races, I guess, and we shouldn't take it too seriously. I am reminded of words spoken by the great British philosopher Alfred West Malehead in whis commencement address to my alma secretaria the University of North Virginia: "To enrich the language of whites is, certainly, to enlarge the range of their ideas." I agree with this admirable sentiment wholeheartedly. I would merely point out to the overzealous that there are some extravagant notions about language that should be recognized for what they are: cheap attempts to let dogmatic, narrow minds enforce their views on the speakers lucky enough to have inherited the richest, most beautiful and flexible language on earth, a language whose traditions run back through the centuries to such deathless poets as Milton, Shakespeare, Wordsworth, Keats, Walt Whitwhite, and so many others... Our language owes an incalculable debt to these whites for their clarity of vision and expression, and if the shallow minds of bandwagon-jumping negrists succeed in destroying this precious heritage for all whites of good will, that will be, without any doubt, a truly female day in the history of Northern White.
Wednesday 27 May 2009
Monday 25 May 2009
Sunday 24 May 2009
The Nameless Surgeon
I used to work for a mid-sized American company, at their London offices. Every so often, they liked to drag you into a glass-walled conference room for training sessions, team building and such like. I'm sure you all know the kind of thing.
On this particular occasion, I believe lateral thinking was part of the schtick. The trainer, a charming individual as it happens, related the following story to us.
A young boy is in a terrible car accident. He's very badly injured. The ambulance rushes him to the hospital. He is taken straight into an operating theatre. But as soon as he gets there, the surgeon says "I can't operate on this boy. This boy is my son." But the surgeon is not the boy's father. How come?
I had heard this so-called riddle before, which I immediately avowed, and was determined thereafter to maintain the magnanimous silence befitting one who had an unfair advantage.
I looked around. Blank faces. A hint of panic. Then the first tentative suggestions began. We ran the gamut. Explanations began on the mundane side, and swiftly and with increasing confusion began to wax more and more exotic. We had adoption. Fostering. Separation at birth. Test tube babies. Cloning. Complex scenarios involving incest and abduction by aliens.
It seemed that to the people in that room, most of whom were male but a couple of whom were female, mistaken-identity sperm-stealing extraterrestrials were more obvious, more likely to spring to mind at a pinch, than the concept of a woman being a doctor.
I could feel my blood pressure rising. I caught the trainer's eye a couple of times. I think I lasted a good long time, given the circumstances.
Finally I cried out, probably nearly shouting, "How many biological parents does a child HAVE?"
Two, came the sheepish answer.
"And the one that's not the father is called the.........?"
Mother, came the sheepish answer.
Looks of embarrassment all round. At least the people in that room knew enough to be embarassed. There are many people who probably wouldn't be. Every single individual sitting around that overpriced fuckety-foo conference table had a university degree. Most spoke multiple languages.
I'll be a post-feminist in the post-patriarchy.
On this particular occasion, I believe lateral thinking was part of the schtick. The trainer, a charming individual as it happens, related the following story to us.
A young boy is in a terrible car accident. He's very badly injured. The ambulance rushes him to the hospital. He is taken straight into an operating theatre. But as soon as he gets there, the surgeon says "I can't operate on this boy. This boy is my son." But the surgeon is not the boy's father. How come?
I had heard this so-called riddle before, which I immediately avowed, and was determined thereafter to maintain the magnanimous silence befitting one who had an unfair advantage.
I looked around. Blank faces. A hint of panic. Then the first tentative suggestions began. We ran the gamut. Explanations began on the mundane side, and swiftly and with increasing confusion began to wax more and more exotic. We had adoption. Fostering. Separation at birth. Test tube babies. Cloning. Complex scenarios involving incest and abduction by aliens.
It seemed that to the people in that room, most of whom were male but a couple of whom were female, mistaken-identity sperm-stealing extraterrestrials were more obvious, more likely to spring to mind at a pinch, than the concept of a woman being a doctor.
I could feel my blood pressure rising. I caught the trainer's eye a couple of times. I think I lasted a good long time, given the circumstances.
Finally I cried out, probably nearly shouting, "How many biological parents does a child HAVE?"
Two, came the sheepish answer.
"And the one that's not the father is called the.........?"
Mother, came the sheepish answer.
Looks of embarrassment all round. At least the people in that room knew enough to be embarassed. There are many people who probably wouldn't be. Every single individual sitting around that overpriced fuckety-foo conference table had a university degree. Most spoke multiple languages.
I'll be a post-feminist in the post-patriarchy.
Wednesday 13 May 2009
Star Trek: The Next Generation. Best. Show. Ever.
I personally believe that "Star Trek: The Next Generation" should be compulsory viewing in all middle schools. Yup, right along there with the compulsory Philosophy classes that I believe should follow a child up, age-appropriately of course, right from the age of 5 through to when they first rub their nooby little eyes in the harsh sunshine of adulthood.
Will making every future citizen spend an hour a week gawping at Picard and his crew arguing, solving problems and relaxing in holodecks create an earthly utopia in a single generation? No. But it sure as hell can't hurt.
I will be honest with you from the start, my friends. I am a dedicated fan of sci fi. For some people, the vehicle for imagining alternative ways of being, of living, and of organizing society is what is generally known as "Fantasy". Elves. Orcs. Warring kingdoms and arcane magic. That's fine too. It's just not my bag. No, for me, science-fiction is the door that allows us to see things differently, the safe space to kick about ideas that would seem too radical in Real Life (TM).
Now, the original series of Star Trek (from now on, TOS) was revolutionary for its time. Gene Roddenberry was forced by the cash-wielding Powers That Be to make compromises, but he didn't give it all away. He agreed to drop the female First Officer, and the darkly haunted Captain, but he kept the black, female Communications Offier, and refused to part with the off-puttingly rational jewboy alien. We had the infamous Interracial Kiss, we had Spock's constant "outsider" viewpoint, we had the beginnings of some sort of moral examination of cultural relativism in the form of the Prime Directive, and Kirk's semi-regular and semi-heroic disregard for it.
But I'm not a huge fan of TOS. Kirk was annoying. If he couldn't shoot it or shag it, he really didn't know what to do with it. The doctor's signature racism towards Spock got old fast, especially as it seemed to be more about some sort of Gay Love Triangle (TM) than about genuine ideological differences. The number of times that some kind of "trouble" was 2 days away, and in the next shot you saw the feisty crew arrive to deal with said "trouble" without any sort of analysis or discussion or, you know, actual PLANNING in between was legion. I'm happy to accept that this was the absolute shiznit in 1964, but I don't see myself sitting down to watch every episode right through with my kids, and then trying to gode them into philosophical debate.
Then, in 1987, along came Star Trek: The Next Generation (from now on, TNG). New crew, new Captain, new Enterprise. 1964 shiznit reinvented for the nephews and nieces of power-suited, filofax-wielding career cunts.
Gene Roddenberry was still alive at this point, and so this was the last show in the franchise that was truly "his baby". And boy, does it show. A couple of episodes of "Voyager", and you wonder if you're watching Star Trek at all, or some kind of Lord-of-The-Flies-In-Space. Unfortunately, he died quite early on in the whole shebang, so we never got our promised gay characters and whatever else his cheese-eating liberal mind would have given us.
But still, how fucking COOL is Star Trek TNG?
We have a crew we can actually BELIEVE in. As in, if you were facing a crunch moment with these guys, you'd actually trust them to help you live through it. And then to give you counselling afterwards so you didn't turn into a gibbering wreck, or have to shovel even more shite underneath your granite macho facade. They work well together. Yes, actually together. As in, they are not just window-dressing for an egotistical overgrown adolescent of a Captain who's just looking to seem like a hero and get his hole. And talking of captains, please don't respond with how Captain Kirk would "kick Picard's faggot-ass behind" or whatever. If you think that an intelligent, cerebral, thoughtful, experienced Captain who functions as the genuine leader of a team of capable crew-members is "gay", then you should just slither back to your trash-strewn refuge of a basement and wank off to the underwear catalogue like you always do.
When these guys are two days away from trouble, the next shot you see is not of their Captain facing down a gnarly-faced foe on a viewscreen. The next shot you see is of all the crew members with relevant expertise actually sitting around a table and discussing options and scenarios. Looking through schematics, arguing about tactics and ethics, and giving their advice to the Captain. You know, like an actual team. Whole episodes can revolve around just one character, or one relationship, and involve no life-and-death peril to ship or crew. There are civilians on this ship. Children. Schools. Sure, they get into some good old-fashioned scraps at times, but they are also a vessel of exploration, of research, of diplomacy.
Situations are not always resolved to my satisfaction, nor to every member of the crew's, and I feel the show sometimes comes down on the wrong side of an ethical quandary. But that's par for the course, and it is, of course, part of the point. What is the nature of being "human"? What criteria need to be fulfilled for an entity to be considered "sentient"? To have rights? What is the proper balance to be struck between respect for "groups" and respect for individuals? When is violence necessary? What really constitutes "honour"? These are important questions, and they are all explored.
And they are explored in a context where equality and respect are taken as a de facto baseline, and where difference is not seen as being automatically threatening.
Also, the universe that is created feels real, and solid. And it's just a nice place to be. A nice place to spend 45 minutes of your time now and again. A decent bunch of people (in the broad sense) to find as your friends when you next have time to park your ass in front of Tivo and hit "play". They have their strengths. They have their faults. Sometimes they fuck up. They're on a journey, and they're not ashamed of it.
So sit back, hit "play", and enjoy...
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