Stuck In the Middle Again
Sep. 7th, 2022 09:31 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mallorys_cameraI kinda cheated on Pajama Day—but I did it!!!
First, though, I changed into a pair of pajamas that are not really pajamas but what we used to call a tracksuit. (I have no idea where tracksuits fit into the contemporary phylogeny of leggings, yoga pants etc.) It’s grey. It’s cozy. I often sleep in it.
It rained hard all day.
In the afternoon, I went to the supermarket in my track suit-cum-pajamas!
I felt so transgressive! So deliciously naughty! Exactly as though I had come to the supermarket commando and was flashing random shoppers behind the produce section.
“These are my pajamas!” I wanted to tell the checkout clerk. “I am here in Stop & Shop in my pajamas!”
Other people daydream of orgies and blow!
I daydream of buying cat food in my pajamas!
###
The other thing of significance that happened yesterday was that I got into a battle of words with an old-time acquaintance on FB.
I should know better than to get into arguments with anyone on the Internet, I know, I know, I know.
In my defense, the current, excessively dry Remunerative Project is driving me a bit mad to the point where I ache for distraction.
The conversation initially started because I was idly speculating about the 2024 Presidential race with my pal Tom (a/k/achezsci.)
Biden is doing a surprisingly effective job as President, I think. Certainly a lot more effective than his Democratic predecessor Saint Obama—whom it turns out, despite the much-media-vaunted bromance, did not actually like Biden all that much, thought he was a wheezy old geezer.
And Biden is wayyyy too old to be President again.
I mean—I see signs of cognitive decline in myself, and I’m significantly younger than Biden.
You don’t want anyone who’s showing signs of cognitive decline anywhere near the red nuclear panic button.
The conversation was in a public place, so Axon barged right in. “Performative fatalism is no longer fashionable”, he announced.
“It's not performative fatalism on my part”, I said. “I don't take communion at either the Blue Church or the Red Church.”
“Nor I”, said Axon. “But math is hard for some people, I guess.”
“Axon, oh please”, I said. “You are a Blue Church altar boy.”
“Not at all. I register Unaffiliated. But I can count noses, and I can assess character. Warts and all, the Democratic Party is the sole counterpoise to incipient fascism, already on the march.”
“Extremists on both sides of the current political divide are fond of evoking Hitler, of calling the other side fascists, Axon”, I said. “I hear it from my Red Church pals about the Left, and I hear it from my Blue Church pals about the Right. But fascism has some fairly specific criteria. So I remain unconvinced.”
“Then you're a collaborator”, said Axon.
FUCK YOU.
“When movements like this arise, you have two options”, Axon continued. “You can resist. Or you can collaborate.”
“I think Woke culture is easily as fascist as MAGA culture”, I persisted.
“There's no such thing. That's a FOX confection. The only people who believe in it are the easily beguiled. The only lens that can perceive it is the privilege of pallor. ‘Woke’, fyi, only means ‘aware of the historical abuses of black people, and favoring remedial policy to address the continuing legacy thereof’. You should really give it a try.”
This is a deeply offensive remark. But it’s cribbed straight from the Robin DiAngelo playbook, I suppose.
“Woke Culture does not exist,” Axon continued. “It's a MAGA boogieman. The term 'woke' is something bestowed by black people on white people who ‘get it’ about black history, and who try to nudge social policy into a more humane lane. But I guess some people think ‘social policy’ itself is some sort of commie camel nose.”
It would give me great pleasure to strip Robin DiAngelo naked, smear her with honey, tie her up to a post, and watch red ants devour her, I decide.
But I say, “For whatever reason, you've decided it's part of your Holy War to alienate me today. Which is a pretty ridiculous thing to do. I'm not the enemy. But whatevs.”
“You? It has nothing to do with you. I challenge orthodoxy because it demands challenge. Not carrying false narratives is how to avoid it. That whole ‘Red Church’ ‘Blue Church’ nonsense, for example, is just Ruttian equivocation”—Rutt is the pal I refer to from time to time in these pages as Alpha Male. “There really are evil ambitions animating the MAGA movement, and denying that easily verified fact puts you in the crosshairs.”
“You challenging orthodoxy?” I snort. “Now that’s funny.”
“It’s the story of my life,” said Axon.
“No, Axon. The story of your life is that long ago you learned that if you were a persistent enough gadfly, people would pay attention to you.”
I was furious.
I refuse to get drawn into this toxic polarization.
As it happens, I am sympathetic to many Woke political and cultural stances. But I am also not un-sympathetic to many—what do you call the opposite of Woke? Conservative?—political and cultural stances.
And I absolutely loathe MAGA.
I find myself stuck right in the middle, a most unenviable place to be since I can't lay claim to the protective smugness that characterizes either faction.
First, though, I changed into a pair of pajamas that are not really pajamas but what we used to call a tracksuit. (I have no idea where tracksuits fit into the contemporary phylogeny of leggings, yoga pants etc.) It’s grey. It’s cozy. I often sleep in it.
It rained hard all day.
In the afternoon, I went to the supermarket in my track suit-cum-pajamas!
I felt so transgressive! So deliciously naughty! Exactly as though I had come to the supermarket commando and was flashing random shoppers behind the produce section.
“These are my pajamas!” I wanted to tell the checkout clerk. “I am here in Stop & Shop in my pajamas!”
Other people daydream of orgies and blow!
I daydream of buying cat food in my pajamas!
###
The other thing of significance that happened yesterday was that I got into a battle of words with an old-time acquaintance on FB.
I should know better than to get into arguments with anyone on the Internet, I know, I know, I know.
In my defense, the current, excessively dry Remunerative Project is driving me a bit mad to the point where I ache for distraction.
The conversation initially started because I was idly speculating about the 2024 Presidential race with my pal Tom (a/k/a
chezsci.)Biden is doing a surprisingly effective job as President, I think. Certainly a lot more effective than his Democratic predecessor Saint Obama—whom it turns out, despite the much-media-vaunted bromance, did not actually like Biden all that much, thought he was a wheezy old geezer.
And Biden is wayyyy too old to be President again.
I mean—I see signs of cognitive decline in myself, and I’m significantly younger than Biden.
You don’t want anyone who’s showing signs of cognitive decline anywhere near the red nuclear panic button.
The conversation was in a public place, so Axon barged right in. “Performative fatalism is no longer fashionable”, he announced.
“It's not performative fatalism on my part”, I said. “I don't take communion at either the Blue Church or the Red Church.”
“Nor I”, said Axon. “But math is hard for some people, I guess.”
“Axon, oh please”, I said. “You are a Blue Church altar boy.”
“Not at all. I register Unaffiliated. But I can count noses, and I can assess character. Warts and all, the Democratic Party is the sole counterpoise to incipient fascism, already on the march.”
“Extremists on both sides of the current political divide are fond of evoking Hitler, of calling the other side fascists, Axon”, I said. “I hear it from my Red Church pals about the Left, and I hear it from my Blue Church pals about the Right. But fascism has some fairly specific criteria. So I remain unconvinced.”
“Then you're a collaborator”, said Axon.
FUCK YOU.
“When movements like this arise, you have two options”, Axon continued. “You can resist. Or you can collaborate.”
“I think Woke culture is easily as fascist as MAGA culture”, I persisted.
“There's no such thing. That's a FOX confection. The only people who believe in it are the easily beguiled. The only lens that can perceive it is the privilege of pallor. ‘Woke’, fyi, only means ‘aware of the historical abuses of black people, and favoring remedial policy to address the continuing legacy thereof’. You should really give it a try.”
This is a deeply offensive remark. But it’s cribbed straight from the Robin DiAngelo playbook, I suppose.
“Woke Culture does not exist,” Axon continued. “It's a MAGA boogieman. The term 'woke' is something bestowed by black people on white people who ‘get it’ about black history, and who try to nudge social policy into a more humane lane. But I guess some people think ‘social policy’ itself is some sort of commie camel nose.”
It would give me great pleasure to strip Robin DiAngelo naked, smear her with honey, tie her up to a post, and watch red ants devour her, I decide.
But I say, “For whatever reason, you've decided it's part of your Holy War to alienate me today. Which is a pretty ridiculous thing to do. I'm not the enemy. But whatevs.”
“You? It has nothing to do with you. I challenge orthodoxy because it demands challenge. Not carrying false narratives is how to avoid it. That whole ‘Red Church’ ‘Blue Church’ nonsense, for example, is just Ruttian equivocation”—Rutt is the pal I refer to from time to time in these pages as Alpha Male. “There really are evil ambitions animating the MAGA movement, and denying that easily verified fact puts you in the crosshairs.”
“You challenging orthodoxy?” I snort. “Now that’s funny.”
“It’s the story of my life,” said Axon.
“No, Axon. The story of your life is that long ago you learned that if you were a persistent enough gadfly, people would pay attention to you.”
I was furious.
I refuse to get drawn into this toxic polarization.
As it happens, I am sympathetic to many Woke political and cultural stances. But I am also not un-sympathetic to many—what do you call the opposite of Woke? Conservative?—political and cultural stances.
And I absolutely loathe MAGA.
I find myself stuck right in the middle, a most unenviable place to be since I can't lay claim to the protective smugness that characterizes either faction.
