Category Archives: Stories

Left vs right II: shitpoasting

So this was supposed to be a blogpost trilogy. And I’m pretty sure I had something for this. I just forgot what. Something something leftist scum something. Whatever. All my good memes are in the first post of the series.  Best Of The Week material if you ask me, if only there were such an award to be handed out by the internet! Unlike this post, which will be improvised shitpoasting.

I have found that leftists cheat at games. Literally. Try play a board game with friends. Watch the leftist among them cheat. It’s DNA baby.

The guy behind r/K-selection theory, Anonymous Conservative, impresses me with his writing quantity. 2-3 posts a day! I read his book a while ago. Enjoyed it. I am also convinced that leftism and rightism are genetic and can be traced neurologically. I am however less convinced that r/K theory explains it all. Too many holes in the theory as it is. My main issue is leftists are supposedly like rabbits so they have lots of children – but they don’t, they substitute kids with cats. In fact per stereotype K-selected Christian families are having lots of children. Nigerians are having lots of kids, but if r-selection is adaption to abundance of resources how come Nigerians in scarce-resource Africa are not K-selected like the lions with which they share their continent? I dunno, the comparison wrings on a couple of levels. For the moment it works better as a fable.

 
Why lions eat rabbits

Once upon a time a strong lion lived with his family on the countryside. The lion took good care of the land, so his cubs were healthy and well-fed. One day a family of rabbits moved in next door. The friendly lion went to greet father rabbit and said to him: ‘you seem friendly, but how do I know you will not steal the food of my land?’ The rabbit reassured him: ‘oh powerful lion, you are so much stronger than I am, how could I dare steal your food?’ The lion was satisfied.

Yet as time passed food started disappearing. The lion went to the rabbit and said: ‘are you stealing my food?’ ‘of course not!’ replied the rabbit. ‘There is however a fox roaming the countryside. Perhaps he stole your food!’ The lion, feeling bad for blaming the rabbit, apologised and left.

But more and more food disappeared from the land. The lion’s cubs grew ill. The lion, seeing the rabbit’s family had grown explosively, angrily went back to the rabbit and said to him: ‘my children are weak with hunger. I have never seen this fox you talk about, yet I have seen the full bellies of your children.’ The rabbit was shocked to hear of the lion’s misfortune and doubled down on his claim that this dirty fox is the culprit. He showed the lion a red herring with bitemarks — ‘these bitemarks belong to the fox!’ said the rabbit. The lion, not knowing how to deal with this piece of ‘evidence’, told the rabbit to leave his land alone.

But the food shortage continued and one day one of the lion’s cubs died. This was the final straw that broke the lion’s back; he rushed to the rabbit’s hole, only to find that all the rabbits had fled.

And that is why lions eat rabbits.

2 leftists walk into a bar

2 leftists walk into a bar. They order beers and talk about the birds and the bees. Soon the topic of conversation turns serious, philosophical. “You can never know absolute truth.” says the first. “Truth is subjective” replies the second, “we might be living in the matrix.” The first raises an eyebrow. “You can not know that. We know nothing. For all we know I don’t exist.” The second raises his voice: “How do you know you don’t exist? For all we know I don’t exist!” The first shakes his head. “no no that is all wrong. Reality is a narrative constructed by our biased perception. How do we even know this bar is real?”
The second one loudly puts down his beer on the bar. “Well how do we know the universe is even real!”

The men are silent for a moment. Clearly they are at a stalemate. The first breaks the silence: “I am a journalist for a prestigious newspaper. 2 million people read my articles.”
– “I host an influential tv-show” says the second, “also watched by 2 million people.” The men fall silent again.

“I have written about the dangers of global warming destroying our planet many times” says the first. “I have invited global warming experts on my panel” says the second.
“Well I had an African woman write a guest column once.”
– “Yes I had her on my show.”
“I have anonymously donated half a million dollars to Amnesty International. People don’t talk enough about how important freedom of speech is.”
– “I have, also anonymously, donated a similar amount to War Child. The things happening to these children is just too horrible.”
“I was the first to write about Trump’s connections with Russia.”
– “I often talk about the possibility of Trump launching World War 3.”

The first man takes out his phone, shows a picture of his wife. The second man in response shows a picture of his wife. They are equally mediocre. The stalemate continues.

The men sit for a while and stare into their half-empty glasses. The first man sighs, scrolls over to his bank account and shows it to the second man. The second man becomes triumphant and shows his bank account, which is larger. “Hah!” he exclaims, “told you so. We can not possibly know reality.” “Yeah”, says the first, “I guess you are right.”

Brave

Being a good storyteller is all about timing.

When Erin posted her story about racism she was scared she would alienate people. That people might not understand where she, a Southern privileged white woman, came from. But in the end her conscious weighed too heavy on her mind and she had no choice but to share her story.

And share she did.

She shared with us the many ways in which racism is still very much alive. How America’s first black first lady was insulted for her colour of skin. How people online made racist jokes like it was the most normal thing in the world and how this his sickened her on a personal level. She told us how blacks are still to this day rejected as ‘the other’, as people who we do want sitting at our table. Worse still, blacks are in fact admonished when they disrupt ceremony to speak out against injustice, as if attacking the status quo could even be done in a peaceful manner. Erin rightly pointed out that nobody seems to remember Martin Luther King was arrested 13 times for peacefully protesting.

After weaving a rich tapestry of observations she concludes from them that although it might seem strange, it is not the white supremacist who does the greatest damage to the black people’s freedom. No, like Martin Luther King said, it is the white moderate who through his daily naiveté and ingrained privilege continues to uphold the status quo that keeps the Negro down. Erin so ends her story with a spine chilling conclusion: racism lurks in all of us.

No wonder she was scared to tell her story.

It can only be attributed to the miraculous awakening of white consciousness that Erin’s story was received with so much love: more than 10.000 shares on facebook, over 350 likes from bloggers such as yours truly and almost 400 comments, most of them a variation of ‘Thank you! I wish I wrote this!’

This story, at least, has a happy ending.