A public record of some of my thoughts. Feel free to comment, but don't expect me to respond.
I’ve been watching Derry Girls on Netflix, which is very funny, but a little crude.
There’s an episode at a wedding where everyone is mad to participate in “rock the boat,” which is a kind of seated line dance. I was sure they had invented it as a joke for the show, but it’s a real thing.
And in case you were wondering, Derry Girls didn’t invent it, they just brought it to the rest of the world.
As with most wedding / line dance things, it’s very silly.
The song came on a playlist on my Amazon Music app, and it sent me down a little rabbit trail.
I assume everyone knows that “My Sweet Lord” is about Krishna, although some people who don’t listen carefully think it’s about Jesus, or at least pretend that it is.
Imagine the various reactions to this song.
The “generally spiritual” person might think, “Okay, if that’s what he likes, more power to him. If it gives meaning to his life, so much the better.”
The fundamentalist might think, “He’s a demon worshipper. Don’t listen to that song so you’re not infected!”
The liberal Christian might think, “He’s on to something, just not the right something.”
The Jungian psychologist might think, “Krisha is a fundamental archetype that permeates all of human experience. This kind of devotion is psychologically healthy.”
The “new atheist” might think, “Wrong, wrong, wrong. He’s wrong and stupid and wrong and … did I mention stupid?”
Which of these reactions is the least human?
There’s a weird, fundamental mismatch in the things I see every week — often on LinkedIn, but in other places as well.
On the one hand, we’re told that everybody is different, with different dreams and so on. On the other hand we’re expected to be motivated by one particular person’s inspiring story.
But that person is different, with different desires and dreams. Why should I expect that his life has any message for me?
If you push “different” too far, we’re all alone. We have nothing to talk about. Your life and dreams and “lived experience” is something I will never understand, and there’s no point in trying.
If you push “similar” too far, we can’t benefit from the amazing variety of gifts that people bring.
And if you do either of these things while bunching people together into identity groups, you are an enemy of the human race.
Story after story shows that when you’re attacked by the woke mob, the worst thing you can do is apologize. It doesn’t help. They just take it as an admission of guilt and go after you harder. It’s blood in the water.
But isn’t it right to apologize? Isn’t that the nice, decent thing to do?
No, for the very simple reason that the point of an apology is to restore a broken relationship, and (1) there is no relationship to restore with these people, and (2) they’re not interested in having a relationship with you.
By all means you should apologize when you’re dealing with sane, reasonable people — when the goal is to restore a hurt relationship. But never apologize to the woke mob.
P&C drink and review Shiner’s Candied Pecan ale, then discuss the recent shenanigans of Milo Yiannopoulos.
Milo used to be the flamboyant gay darling of the far right, until he seemed to advocate pedophilia, and then he dropped off the radar. We haven’t heard much of Milo until he recently decided to come out as ex-gay! He’s relegated his husband to the status of housemate, he’s leading an online devotion to St. Joseph, and he’s starting a new center for the much-despised “conversion therapy.”
Is this just another attention-getting prank? What are we to make of Milo?
And why is “conversion therapy” such a unique problem? You can get goof-ball therapy to change any aspect of your personality that you like, except this? Why?