Posted on 05/09/2013 1:53:09 PM PDT by NotYourAverageDhimmi
Country singer George Jones, who to my ears had the greatest voice ever recorded, died on Friday. A genius of phrasing and nuance, Jones had a stratospheric voice that captured human heartbreak with bottomless poignancy. I once read that when he was a kid, Jones’s father would wake him up in the middle of the night and threaten to beat him if he didn’t sing for him. Whether or not that’s true, his voice conveyed a tortured soul that was unmistakably human.
Standing outside an Atlanta club on Friday night where I’d performed an amped-up version of “White Lightning” in honor of Jones’s passing, a self-proclaimed fan of mine told me he’d mentioned Ol’ Possum’s death on Facebook, only to receive a verbal feces-smearing by someone who called Jones a “racist” and a “redneck” who deserves to “rot in hell.”
As far as this guy could tell, his Facebook buddy felt Jones’s main transgression was that he was a white man who sang country music and was therefore automatically less than human.
“Don’t you dare think differently than they do. Their tolerance does not extend to what’s in your brain.”
Apparently, progressives only believe in hell when their perceived ideological enemies have died, hence the joyous “death parties” when Margaret Thatcher gave up the ghost and the cowardly gloating over Andrew Breitbart’s still-warm corpse by sneering, bucktoothed hacks who weren’t fit to sniff his underwear.
Without ever feeling a need to apologize, I’ve done a great deal of hating in my life, but I’ve never seen a group of twisted, self-satisfied losers so unabashedly hate-filled as modern prog-bots. This is unforgivably and punchably ironic mainly because their entire platform is erected upon shaky Popsicle sticks of “compassion,” “tolerance,” and respect for the “cultural other.” Since their default defense mechanism is to accuse their enemies of being motivated primarily by hatred, it reinforces my belief that the primary impetus of modern leftist psychology is blind, stupid, hypocritical projection.
Just as normal cells mutate into cancer cells and metastasize, the word “liberal” has strayed far from its original moorings and now tends to indicate someone who despises liberty and freedom and is a pathological control freak that wants to obliterate the mere suggestion of any thought that would undermine their bloated and unwarranted sense of self-worth.
More and more, the modern leftist resembles an 80-year-old film actress who never quite made it in the business and lives huddled somewhere in a dusty Hollywood apartment with 20 cats and five pounds of makeup on her face. Peel away the thick mask she’s painted on her crinkled mug, and you have Medusa in curlers.
More and more, it strikes me that leftist compassion is truly skin-deep and goes no further than the epidermis. Oh, sure, they will tolerate a multitude of skin colors (except for the paler manifestations), a sickening array of reconstructive genital mutilations, a Boschian tableau of divergent sex organs crammed into improbable orifices, and any yapping, screaming vagina no matter how hateful or insane the she-beast obviously is.
They will tolerate racial violence as long as the targets are correct. They will applaud homicidal sexism so long as the victims are male. They won’t blink if you demean others’ sexual orientation so long you’re shitting upon the straights. Obviously, their tolerance is massive and ever expanding.
But don’t you dare think differently than they do. Their tolerance does not extend to what’s in your brain.
If you dare to disagree with them, they will attack like a pack of starved rats. Their behavior suggests that they believe others should suffer literally—even corporeally—not because of their actions, but because of their thoughts alone. This will manifest as bald aggression rather than fuzzy compassion. And when they mock and threaten, it’s not bullying. When they get you fired from your job or reveal your home address, it isn’t McCarthyism. When they call you a piece of shit, they aren’t dehumanizing you. And when they wish ass cancer upon you, there’s nothing hateful about it. They’ll engage in purely totalitarian tactics while calling you a fascist.
This is not the behavior of people who are secure in their beliefs. This is the hysterically phobic reaction of those who dread that they might be wrong. If you base everything on a false premise of equality, you’ll have to become a liar to keep propping it all up. You’ll have to enact codes and laws and punishments for anyone who dares question the sanctity of their fundamental premise.
They demand a rainbow on the outside, but internally, they insist it’s all the same dull shade of grey. Their behavior suggests that if they had their way—and through pharmacology and ceaseless propaganda they may one day get it—they wouldn’t so much like for everyone to think identically as they’d prefer that everyone share the same brain, an ideological cloud computer that they’ve meticulously seeded.
Born in 1961, I caught at least two decades of the so-called Red Scare, but what’s going on now with political correctness, AKA the bloody afterbirth of the civil-rights movement, is the most egregious moral panic I’ve seen. This is far more than a battle for the “right” to interracially date or to engage in same-sex soixante-neuf. This goes far deeper than such trivialities. This is a war of attrition to control thought and language and culture, to demean and ostracize anyone who doesn’t fall obediently in line, to declare certain subjects beyond discussion and maybe even one day to make it impossible to think differently than the herd.
I often wonder what quotient of the population feels effectively silenced. How many Americans fear speaking their minds in the workplace because they don’t want to get fired or sued? How many people feel like a pithed frog, mute and helpless, their brain severed from their spine? I suspect that it’s quite a few—perhaps even the majority. Although I don’t like the feeling, I have a firm sense that it is not me, but rather the whole world around me, that is rapidly going insane. But unlike the modern, deeply indoctrinated, progressive hive-mind robot, I allow the possibility that I could be wrong.
Whereas such ludicrous constructs as Negrophobia, homophobia, and misogyny—which are, by semantic alchemy, presumed never to be the fault of Negroes, homosexuals, or women—are said to be based in a fear of the other or a fear of the unknown, leftist ideological intolerance seems based in a fear of the misunderstood. At times it seems rooted in a fear that if the threatening idea were to be properly and soberly apprehended, it would invade their consciousness, infect their brains like a virus, and send them into a state of ideological vertigo where they finally realize they are as full of shit as their detractors have always said they are.
So unless you’re ready to fight back and never let down, don’t ever tell a brainwashed person they’re brainwashed. They can handle indoctrination fine, but the truth drives them crazy.
It doesn’t get much better than that.
Cheers to you for posting Goad. One of the best books I ever read was his ‘Redneck Manifesto.’
Goad is Gold. I love his unflinching dissection of the Liberal mind.
Thank you for posting this article. I was not familiar with
Jim Goad until now.
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