Вот она разница между своей командой и командой противника!
Mickey Mouse gas mask for children during WW2.
Q:there are literal nazis on tumblr and this is how you use your talents?
i’ll respond to this seriously:
i really don’t know why anyone who calls themselves a social justice warrior or pushes the SJW agenda doesn’t see the similarity between their own militant beliefs that everyone be separated into little groups versus a nazi who believes minorities are an inferior “species” of their own.
nazis and white nationalists and sjw’s are all the same cut of the same shitty loaf of bread and i suppose what bugs me most about sjws in particular is that they adamantly pretend that they are anything BUT hateful, mean, bullying, racist, spiteful bigots. atleast nazis and white nationalists own up to their hate and ignorance, and they are widely recognized as a moronic group of assholes that nobody should give the time of day to.
SJWs? people unfortunately give them an audience, and in some cases, are sucked into believing that anything that is CIS-GENDER, WHITE, MALE is the devil and should be fucking stoned to death. its moronic. the day that “CHECK YOUR PRIVILEGE” came into the SJW repertoire of stupid shit to scream at anyone they had a difference of opinion on was the day the internet got a little more backwards, a little more unbearable.What she’s angry about is actually the fanaticism of Tumblr. Has anyone here read Eric Hoffer’s book “The True Believer”? It is a terrific book and one that I cannot more highly recommend if you’re at all interested in things like group-think, mass hysteria or the foundation of religious following. The cusp of the book (and I’m selling this at a discount) is that all mass movements - be they social, political, religious or otherwise - are all interchangeable. Proper nouns may change but the roles and the acts are always the same thing: there is always a group or body of dissatisfied people who march to the beat of a specific drum and over-identify with the cause. This can be the Republicanism, Nazism, Socialism, Calvinism, Discordianism, Protestantism, - pretty much anything ending in “ism” except “jism”. (A phonetic pun, don’t take it seriously)I’m going to risk my two cents on this not because I particularly agree with my friend’s nutcase statement that SJW are at all like Nazis (which is an absurd falsehood) but hopefully making clear what she’s getting at since she’s much more eloquent in face to face conversation.Her frustration with SJW/Tumblr is one I share, in that, though there are some well-intentioned ideas in the mix (sex-positivity, racial and ethical identification, etc), none of them are rooted in experience. That is to say: though you (indefinite pronoun) may have been singled out for your sexuality or gender-bending or whatever (which is awful), you also cannot speak for anyone else but you, even though you may be of that group identity.
That is to say: you speak for yourself and not for any identifiable group. You may identify with that group, but you do not speak for every gay male or every latino or every long-haired hippie alive. To do so only shows your ego and how hard-set it is on making the “group” about you and not you part of a group.
Does that make sense? Moving on…
But that since the cause is always interchangeable, it will always attract the same TYPE of person, and often a person who is into ITEM A will later on be really into ITEM B. For the internet, this is becoming obvious to the point of transparency: we all see the people who are REALLY ANNOYING ABOUT FIREFLY that are now REALLY ANNOYING ABOUT SHERLOCK. Which is to say the people that are really annoying about CIS stuff are going to be just as annoying about something else later on. You as a person are more interested in identifying with things outside your person to conform to a group, instead of pushing away and being yourself by yourself. I realize this is not easy, as people as animals demand social groupings to feel “safe” as a survival mechanism, but the lengths in which people over-identify with everything consumable or trendy now has me wishing Zarathustra would come down to Pied Cow and tell everyone on the internet to cram it up their ass (myself included sometimes).(Tangent: I will go one step further: the concept of SJW is not known off of Tumblr. I am not sure if this is because Tumblr has an age-specific group as its whole(?) or what but the fact of the matter is that SJW as a thing or even as a term are not known anywhere else on the internet except to be made fun of. I find that as a sort of “right church, wrong pew” logic: if this is such a big deal to a group of people, why is it I had to come to Tumblr to hear a bunch of people agree with each other? “Preaching to the choir” doesn’t spread the word, but it does whip up the Congregation into a frenzy, which reinforces an already insulated and self-aware system of belief and alienates everything else to the point where it discards all verisimilitude completely.)So what I’m getting at with eloquence is what my friend sucks at getting across: all forms of fanaticism, even if they’re right to believe in detail, are inherently wrong by nature. Yes, you shouldn’t be a bigot - but you shouldn’t also be chasing bigots with a fucking baseball bat or crazy group-think reposts on Tumblr. Because, right or wrong, everything you’re doing just perpetuates a cycle - just like Hoffer said. No one has the right to rule over anyone else, which is the irony of the SJW movement: “Don’t tread on me” as a motto only works if it also applies to everyone (even the snake on the flag).I think the best (and most rock-and-roll) way to make this clear is to listen to the song “Bloody Revolution” by the british punk band Crass. There may be no better reasoning against all SJW activities than that one song.And as I close, I’m reminded of this line by Russian writer Lev Kopelev: “Totalitarian regimes can capture, torture and kill as many writers, scientists and artists as they like, but they can’t change a culture to their liking.”
And, right or wrong, I cannot think of a better description than that for Tumblr.
Today is one of those days. Not that those days are really what one would call “few and far between” - seems more apt to say “plentiful and uncomfortably up in your business” - but it feels as though it’s a notable one nonetheless, for whatever reason.
Note: what ‘those days’ are is one of those days where I’m incapable of forcing my brain to not observe, with clinical precision and remorseless inference, the embarrassingly abysmal state of the wretched thing I call a life.
I was scheduled to work, but as an on-call shift (they let me know if they need me). They ostensibly did not - there’s a small part of me that laments the lost hours of pay that I sorely need, but I mostly rejoice at not having to spend the day uncomfortably close to coworkers and strangers and pretend as though I feel something other than a vague emptiness and hunger, trying desperately to not look at anybody in the eyes for too long [Fun fact; as I wrote this line, a Facebook friend posted a status update that only read “Coward”. The universe is rarely so lazy.] lest they see the jealousy and admiration and longing and selfishness that no doubt occasionally shines through the eyes with which I observe the lives that for them must be as effortless and wonderful as mine is torturous and sluggish.
In two weeks, I’ll officially have been split up with my soon-to-be-ex-wife for a year, which makes us eligible for divorce. I don’t know why I’m so anxious about it - I don’t particularly wish to be with her again, and the legal end of our relationship is happening what feels like eons after the emotional end. Maybe it’s because I’m afraid of what it means to already be divorced at my age - what must people think of me if I’m to tell them I’ve already ruined a marriage? Not that they don’t already think that, as I’m sure word must have gotten around.
Before I met her, I used to think I’d be alone forever - I’d only ever been out with someone once, with an absolutely beautiful girl who I’d gone to see Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street with (I was anxious the whole time because I felt like people may have been playing an elaborate prank on me, and after the untimely appearance of my parents ending the night early, I didn’t really speak to her again, terrified at the prospect of learning how awful I was from perspective of another person). After being rejected (sometimes gently, sometimes not) by a few other girls, I’d decided that it was easier to be alone - it was easier to tell myself that I was unlikable and ugly than it was to have faith in myself only to be consistently shot down.
Some time after that, though, I met her, and she managed to convince me that I was worth something to somebody, for a time. And now that she’s left me for somebody who’s better than me in every conceivable capacity (except for the part where he believes that it’s okay to undermine other people’s relationships if he gets bored of his previous one, but I guess I’m not supposed to care about that, since nobody else seems to), I find myself wondering how I was ever stupid enough to think that I could be worth anything to anybody.
Some people have told me that having faith in myself is a kind of bravery - if that’s true, then I’ve lost whatever bravado I’d somehow managed to instill in myself, and found naught but a fretful and cowardly being in its place. In retrospect, it seems like my problem in general is cowardice - there are people who’ve messaged me on Facebook in the past few months trying to reach out to me, and I’ve either responded coldly or flat out ignored them. Not because I want to, you see - nobody as lonely as I am could ever willingly turn away such actions - but because I’m too afraid of having friends. I don’t want to open myself up to anybody, as the drawn-out suffering that comes with being alone is nothing to the searing stab of seeing someone recoil from you when they’ve found out what you really are.
And to be honest, I’m not really sure what I am - but whatever it is, it makes me feel like a spider. Like my presence somewhere consistently warps whatever orderly social things should be happening, and nobody is going to feel comfortable anymore until I’ve been squished (or, in my case, removed. Don’t squish spiders, people, it’s barbaric).
On days like these, I used to think, “I just don’t want to be alone anymore.” Now, though, I’m not really sure what I want - it certainly feels like everything is terrible, but I’m no longer sure if it’s possible for things to be anything but.