Showing posts with label rage. Show all posts
Showing posts with label rage. Show all posts

Saturday, February 28, 2015

The contemporary condition #1

Following up on a topic mentioned before.

At Tablet, James Kirchick has some insights into competitive victimology and online mobbing:
The problem with these little purges, these forced incantations of the latest auto-da-fés, however, is that they never quite end, for the tumbrils always need replenishing. Like all good left-wing revolutionaries, these latter-day cultural warriors are eating their own. There is an unholy synergy existing between the notions of identity politics and the mechanisms of social media, which fused together form a concatenation that is debasing political debate. The mob-like mentality fostered by Twitter, the easy, often anonymous (and, even if a name is attached to the account, de-personalized) insulting, fosters a social pressure that aims to close discussion, not open it. [...]

What makes this current cultural moment so depressing is that both identity politics and the preferred tool of enforcing its precepts—social media—are so easy and widely available to use, and are being used in regressive ways by people who claim to be promoting social justice. What they are actually doing—quite deliberately—is making themselves social despots by driving out everyone who lacks the taste or the ability to shout angry slogans and personal accusations through the social media megaphone. It’s actually difficult to write an essay saying simply that someone is a racist or sexist or homophobe without making easily refutable mistakes—unless they are in fact guilty of that crime. Twitter, however, puts the burden of proof on the defendant, making it very hard to defend oneself against the 8-word tweet that uses a hot-button word to slime whoever becomes the target of the mob’s ire. It’s Salem, with 21st-century technology. And sooner or later, we will all become witches.

  

Thursday, February 12, 2009

On suffering

So, I had read this New York Times article last week and was unsure about how to put my feelings about it into words.

Ezra does better:
The New York Times article on how hard it will be for senior executives to live in New York on $500,000 is the sort of thing that makes me want to burn this rotted society to the ground and salt the earth atop which it once stood.
Yeah, that's about right.

Monday, November 17, 2008

The hate. It is good.

I suppose one of the secondary points that I was trying to make in my last post was that we should not be afraid of sneering at people who deserve it.

It can be a zesty, life-affirming experience.

As Charlie Brooker discovers, in the pages of Tatler magazine:

Shaken, I turned to the Little Black Book section, which turned out to be an authoritative A-Z of overprivileged arseholes (most of them still in their early 20s), plus the occasional celeb, rated and compiled by the single biggest group of wankers in the universe.

[...]

Or consider "The Hon Wenty Beaumont": "The growl, the growl - girls go weak for the growl ... Utterly divine Christie's kid who enjoys nothing more than playing Pass the Pig during weekends at the family estate in Northumberland or in Saint-Tropez."

In other words, the only thing these waddling bags of arseflesh have going for them is unrestricted access to a vast and unwarranted fortune. Strip away the coins and it reads like a list of the most boring people in Britain.

[...]

In summary, it's an entire alternate dimension of shit, a galaxy of streaming-eye fart gas, compressed into a few glossy pages. It will have you alternating between rage, jealousy, bewilderment and distress, before dumping you in a bottomless slough of despond. Buy a copy. No, don't. Stand in a shop flipping through the pages, deliberately fraying each corner as you go. Drink it in. Feel your impotent anger levels peaking. The headrush is good for you.

My point exactly.

Friday, July 25, 2008

'Anger, real steaming fucking anger can make a man verbose.'

As someone who has himself not been immune to rage-fuelled verbosity, I leave you with two fine examples of the genre.

The first is from Giles Coren, whose enraged letter to the Times--after a sub-editor removed an indefinite article from a restaurant review he had written--is a classic.

A sample:

And worst of all. Dumbest, deafest, shittest of all, you have removed the unstressed 'a' so that the stress that should have fallen on "nosh" is lost, and my piece ends on an unstressed syllable. When you're winding up a piece of prose, metre is crucial. Can't you hear? Can't you hear that it is wrong? It's not fucking rocket science. It's fucking pre-GCSE scansion. I have written 350 restaurant reviews for The Times and i have never ended on an unstressed syllable. Fuck. fuck, fuck, fuck.

Second, PZ Myers's response to the flood of abuse (and even threats) he received after suggesting that he might 'desecrate' a communion wafer.

Myers has upped the ante, and has now unkindly treated some other objects that some might hold 'sacred':

I didn't want to single out just the cracker, so I nailed it to a few ripped-out pages from the Qur'an and The God Delusion. They are just paper. Nothing must be held sacred. Question everything. God is not great, Jesus is not your lord, you are not disciples of any charismatic prophet. You are all human beings who must make your way through your life by thinking and learning, and you have the job of advancing humanity's knowledge by winnowing out the errors of past generations and finding deeper understanding of reality. You will not find wisdom in rituals and sacraments and dogma, which build only self-satisfied ignorance, but you can find truth by looking at your world with fresh eyes and a questioning mind.

Here's to the eloquently angry.

Have a nice weekend.

Thursday, March 27, 2008

Posh prickdom

How do I put this diplomatically (and non-actionably)?

I could comprehend the actions of someone who might (though via no encouragement from me or anyone else associated with this blog) wish to kick the head in of this particular individual, aka, Master Nicholas De Lacy Brown:


Not that I'm advocating any form of violence whatsoever. That's just plain wrong.

The evidence for the prosecution.

And this:

Monday, March 03, 2008

Conspiracy update

Sorry I have to bother you all again with the old Marion Cotillard yarn, which is already getting a bit stale, only the following snippet in the Times made me right furious:

Mr Duval [Cotillard's agent] said that the interview [in which she made the famous daft statement about the World Trade Centre wiring] was filmed after a broadcast on Coluche, a French comedian killed in a motorcycle accident in 1986, and she [Cotillard] had simply made clear that she intended to form her own opinion about the events of September 11 rather than follow the official version, that it was a terrorist attack led by al-Qaeda.

Aargghhh! What kind of explanation is that?

If there's one thing in the world that I hate, it's people who "want to form their own opinion." Because usually when they make that kind of argumentative gambit, it's never just about matters of "opinion" -- like the taste of a wine, the cut of a skirt, or the sound of a piece of music. No, this kind of statement usually refers to facts of life ... like, gravity, Evolution and the Holocaust.

In fact, somebody who I was quite friendly with at the time made the same kind of statement in exactly the same context (i.e. 9/11) in a conversation with me about six years ago and ... I hate to say it, but I haven't really spoken to her since.