by Gethin A. Lynes
I admit to a state of mild embarassment. Not, as you might imagine, for making hasty, poorly thought out polictical statements that not only lack a certain eloquence, but potentially a solid foundation in fact. Nor, as someone of milder temperament might, do I feel much in the way of shame for telling some guy to go fuck himself. He deserved it, and probably plenty more besides.
No, the chagrin comes from once more allowing myself to get all riled up by the comments of some two-bit, right-wing, Farcebook academic, lauding himself as the foremost authority on… well… pretty much everything he can wrap his lips around.
I’m no stranger to interjecting myself into someone else’s social media conversation and pointing out the flaws in their reasoning, or even on occasion delivering (not especially) thinly veiled insults regarding someone’s (differing) belief systems or apparent lack of intelligence. I’ll make fun of public figures, post photos of some twat in a pair of “skinny” dress pants, and rant about the spiralling state of degradation our chance of survival as a species is in.
It’s quite the sad state of affairs, then, that when someone else jumps in and points the same fingers at me, I display deeply reactionary tendencies, tell him to fuck off, and immediately defriend him. All the sadder given that, ironically, being a reactionary is generally associated with some of the great thinkers of the wrong side of politics.
And yes, I know, I should say the other side of politics, not the wrong side. But, frankly, that’s bullshit… unless of course, you’re just really threatened by your imminent subjugation by the 23% of the world who is Muslim, all of whom want to kill the infidel – which is you, and even if they don’t kill you, they will infect your brain and control your thoughts and destroy your entire way of life – in which case you should really stop wasting time online and start stocking up on wagons.
The fact remains, I am far better off without having my feed sullied with the constant Islamaphobic, anglocentric bullshit, spouted by the afore mentioned Professor Polemical. Unfortunately, for all that, it seems my belief in my own cognitive abilities might be sorely misplaced. After countless occasions of (usually inadvertantly) starting fights, delivering insults and generally making an arse out of myself on any number of social media sites, you’d have thought that I’d have learned to reserve my propensity for saying stupid shit for the pub, where at least I have some fiery distillate to blame for my lack of reason and/or tact.
But no, despite having every opportunity to sit back and think, to sleep on it and to formulate an eloquently delivered rebuttal to whatever nonsense I’m being slapped with, I keep displying my intelligence by jumping straight in there and shouting FUCK OFF!