posted on Apr, 12 2016 @ 06:39 PM
Chapter 1: You are not alone.
Welcome you to victimhood. No one respects your pro-noun. No one wants to adopt your preferred nomenclature. No one is sensitive enough to your
hierarchy of labels. You believe halloween costumes are “cultural misappropriation”. You believe certain words and expressions have causal powers,
are “micro-aggressions”, and can have disastrous effects on what you have pre-determined in your mind to be the marginalized segments of society,
whether they actually are or not. Racism, sexism, homophobia—all are built into the very fabric of society: all of it violent, all of it oppressive,
none of it innocent.
Luckily, you are in good company. Like you, your newly found brethren harbour the exact same superstition towards words and expressions (and
presumably body language), offering a ready-made support group for whenever you find yourself in a fit of unnecessary rage at the sight or sound of
someone speaking in a way you do not favour. Like you, the politically correct sees the label before the labelled, the skin-colour before the person,
the sex before the human being, and derive their conclusions from the various stereotypes that necessarily follow these abstractions. Together,
usually arm-in-arm or in the safety of a drum circle, you may finally satiate that vain longing to appear like a good person to others who no doubt
wish to appear the same, in order to disguise the vacuous absence of any good they’ve never done.
Remember this: political correctness is a public relation scheme, used to disguise your own racist, homophobic, and sexist urges beneath a veneer of
respect and concern for the arbitrary and general classifications you’ve formed in your head, no matter, and without considering once, the merits of
the actual flesh-and-blood human beings involved. Rather than repudiate the notions of race, class, or sexuality as measures of worth, disadvantage
and privilege, you require them, at least so you know where to move yourself in the hierarchy when benefit serves.
From a utilitarian standpoint, you’ve made a wise decision in joining these ranks, because in the scheme of our political zoology, where the opinion
of some anonymous consumer is as valuable to the corporations as a distinguished public figure, and when we tend to find ourselves in venues that
provide our shrill comments with the loudest and most conformist-sounding echoes, political correctness is useful. It works! Nothing else besides
outright puritanism has had the speech-freezing effect as the fear of condemnation, exclusion, loss of business, and outright dismissal by one’s
peers for what one has said, and by extension, what one has thought. And though it is unlikely that any gulags or gas-chambers will need to be
constructed in order to house your political enemies, ostracizing and marginalizing them will suffice for the time being.
Take for instance that cretinous disk jockey at an Irish Pub in North Carolina, who in his infinite arrogance, committed the violent and misogynistic
crime against humanity by playing a top-40 song in front of human beings at a drinking establishment. According to a UNC fellow social justice
warrior, the offending song promoted “rape culture”, and such “violence” and “graphic imagery” are what we now know as “triggers”,
which are sure to sends us into anxious frenzies, almost as if we had no control of our thoughts at all. None of this pertained to herself mind you,
given that she never experienced any sexual assaults throughout her life, but she took it upon herself to protect the numerous victims whom no doubt
lay prostrate on the dance floor following that brutal assault. After a small and—I’m sure—innocent social media post, there was no stopping the
subsequent wave of indignation. With the threats of boycott from PC allies, whom only needed to hear the rallying call of oppression, the disk jockey
was let go from his position as the purveyor of beats and melodies at that establishment.
And that, my folks, is all it takes. With the tried and true methods of doublespeak and blind conformity, a pop song becomes a violent affront to the
countless rape victims around us. This slight fancy, a delusion though it might be, allows us to promulgate the idealistic notion that we are making
headway in the arena of social justice, even if in truth we’ve merely coerced the owner with threats of economic loss, because we perceived some
slight against the imaginary victims in our minds. Justice is served. Yes, one can get a disk jockey fired for playing a top-40 song in a pub, which,
in a brief analysis, is nothing short of a bloody miracle.
This is just a taste of the wonders political correctness can achieve. In solidarity, we can achieve a great deal more.