Entitlement, thy name is Saint
Apr 20th, 2008 by Rebecca
So I discovered last week that I’m clearly starting to make it in the Australian blogosphere: I’d earned my first hatchet job from a real, live Right Wing Death Beast. I was going to just let this one slide, but after he made a complete arse of himself at Ryan’s, I realised just who it was: none other than saint, from the Missing Link collective. I then recalled his racist droppings over at Helen’s place a couple weeks back, and figured that I really couldn’t resist biting.
Let us start with the title of his glorious post, “The Pussification of Oz.” Because what could possibly be worst than being…like women? Gah, the almighty horror of it all! God forbid he be associated with the horror of the feminine…methinks this man has issues.
Such excellent stuff indeed. I wondered if Bec had reached puberty. No, she is 22…
For someone who thinks rambling on about the “homosexualist cause” is what passes for intelligent discourse around these parts, he’s got quite the gall to whinge about my occasional pissy rant…
…and is about to undertake some coffee-snorting research:
Alas, we are not blessed with an elucidation of why writing about power dynamics in the feminist and queer movements is such a shocking topic that it would require him to snort his coffee. It would seem that he’s upset that all we women, queers and trannies just can’t accept our subservience and leave it at that. How very comical of us.
Screwed is an understatement for Bec, if you are talking screwed up. She’s got issues. Trans issues. Needless to say, a perusal of her blog tells you she is not the cheerful one of Kieran’s two friends.
Oh, the poor dear - I’m just a little trans girl, of course my opinions shouldn’t be taken seriously, god forbid he might find them threatening. …and he thinks I’m *gasp* mean! Oh, the horror of it all! I’ll certainly have to repent now.
I, however, am sure that I am not safe from being called a cissexist sometime soon.
My god, he’s a mindreader! The man’s a genius!
So Aspinall, one of the key proponents for the pussification of the Anglican church in Australia, has no objection. Quelle surprise.
Because, I mean, how could the church possibly survive if it wasn’t manly? God forbid the church be associated with femininity, oh no. Because how would dear saint here know how to behave? He even calls Aspinall “girlie man” for extra Manly points.
I am sure that he wouldn’t object to new sex education modules for our earnest teenagers with their snot-nosed boyfriends either. How about: “Preparing for anal sex: enema or no?”
Sheesh, anxiety much? If he’s not planning on trying anal sex, why is he getting so worked up about hearing about it? And teenage boys these days are “snot-nosed”? Oh, the poor dears - to be insufficiently Manly for dear old Saint over there…how can they possibly live with themselves?
Not only that, I am sure Tim, Kirby, Aspinall and friends, want to make cult membership mandatory for everyone.
For someone who’s so insistent about his masculinity and his heterosexuality, Saint here seems to be awfully afraid of being converted to The Gay. Really, if he wasn’t worried about trying it, what would compel him to be so very threatened?
And to boot, he calls the National Union of Students Queer Department the “lavender mafia”. Oh, they’ll be so proud!
In comments, Ryan asks him why it is any of their business who anyone else chooses to sleep with. His response? “Because jesus sez so!” It’s just that, y’know, seeing as I actually am not a great believer in your god and all, I would find this convincing…why? He then calls Julia Serano’s Whipping Girl “the latest bit of tyranny”. I’m sure she’d be so proud.
It’s evidently not just the women, the queers, or the trannies that he has a problem with either - I remembered a bunch of charming racist droppings he’d made on a thread over at Helen’s place a couple of weeks ago. So, Saint here can only stoop to associate himself with white, straight, Christian cissexual people - sounds like a bit of a boring existence to me. Frankly, I’ll pass.
But it’s this charming little tidbit which I’ll finish on:
It’s a prison which has sucked in Ryan and Bec - both barely adults, what a tragedy - and is leading them down a path of self-destruction egged on by their idiot friends like Kieran. You don’t know whether you should commit them all or take them in and protect them from themselves. Or both
I’ll have you know that this path really doesn’t appear to resemble self-destruction, a couple years down the line. How very nice of you to want to “take me in” (now there’s a creepy prospect) or, charmingly, have me committed. And apparently, far from Ryan and I being, y’know, autonomous people, it’s all really Kieran’s fault. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled that the RWDBs hold him in such high esteem.
I’m amused that this man, who appears to have - to steal Belledame’s metaphor - more issues than National Geographic - thinks he’s in a fit state to be lecturing me about how I should be living my life. Why, who could possibly know better than someone who knows admittedly nothing about trans issues, and practically runs screaming from the room at the bare mention of queer issues?
Or, y’know, I could just say “piss off, you pathetic little toad”.
“Jesus sez so?” Really?
Jesus said no such thing. Moses did, and Paul may have, depending on your translation. But Jesus himself is all about loving thy neighbour - a lesson that somebody has evidently missed.
Oh goodie, it’s Macho Shithead Jesus, just like in the Scriptures. Yeehaw.
god, what a putz.
Oh droll.
I’ll say what I said to Ryan at his blog.
Don’t do this to yourself Bec. Don’t put yourself into the prison of identity politics. Don’t surround yourself with people who do not have your good, your best interests at heart, who don’t love you. Don’t ruin your life, don’t condemn yourself to life-long misery and self-hate, egged on by a cheering squad of three self-absorbed individuals who care more about their cause du jour then you as a person.
There is much much more to life than your narrow prison cell, and there is much more life, hope, joy and love outside of that toxic web of friends of yours.
Belledame: Have I ever told you that I love you?
Saint: I find it interesting that you can only envisage being trans, or god forbid, even being queer, as a prison. I am free to love whoever I choose to love, and to be whoever I choose to be, without an overwhelming fear of, as you seem to view it, being “pussified”, or otherwise being less human for stepping outside the tight little lines you’ve envisaged your existence as being within. My life these days is wonderful; indeed, it was the closeted life you so espouse that was the prison.
I also find your ideas about autonomy interesting; that the only way you could conceive of my being trans if I was being “tricked into it” by some other nefarious person. In reality, I’ve been out and known as Rebecca for some eight years now; more than a third of my life, and I did that without any help from your fantasised “recruiters”. Really, try merely being who you want to be sometime: it’s very liberating.
or take them in and protect them from themselves. - this is the weird thing (one of many) about the raving right, not content to be crabbed and deranged themselves, they need to make everyone else share their misery.
The constant terror of the Right is that someone, somewhere might not be as miserable as they themselves are.
Heh, yeah. I find it interesting that they weave this semantic dance where they, who are terrified of doing or even considering a million things for fear that it would be too feminine, too homosocial, too risque for them, are the liberated - and those who simply don’t care for such bullshit are the prisoners. They may be miserable, but in Bizarroworld, they’re *right*, and thus we’re awfully confusing. It makes one wonder how they can get their head around considering *my* life to be prison-like. Hello, pot, meet kettle…
Bec, you’re 22 and out for what did you say - 8 years, a full one third of your life? Was that one third of the part with nappies and acne cream or without
*roll eyes*.
You really have been sucked in. God knows where the adults have been in your life. Probably with their heads stuck in the sand given that’s how you’ve turned out. Twenty two and oh-so-I-know-it-all-and-so much-better than the rest of the world, and I am going to self-destruct and stuffed if I care, no-ones gonna stop me. Because that is what you are doing Bec. Self-destructing.
If you want to tell me you’re an adult then own it completely: this is the prison you’ve locked yourself in, be it by ignorance, wilfulness, self-deception, all by yourself.
And such a happy life it has been for you Bec, that here you are on your happy blog, full of snark and self-loathing, telling the world about your life-long happiness.
And such a wonderful life you have ahead of you: what is it? A life-long committment to hormones and psychiatry bills and trying to hide an Adam’s apple in a dress along with a narrow, self-centred, circle of friends which thrives on attention-seeking and hate? Perhaps somewhere along the line you get to turn some woman into a womb-for-rent and then get to deny a child of a proper mother and father. A life to be envied and admired, one to be emulated. Gosh we all do so want our kids to have that sort of life. It’s a wonder people aren’t stacking their kids on planes to Thailand for a quick snip and a set of prescriptions, no questions asked - without all the angst and paperwork and the bullshit ego-stroking to convince them, they’re happy little Vegemites.
Think about what you said to me alone. To criticise gays, according to you for example, is seen to be a fear being or becoming gay themselves. Insulting gays tars you with gayness. Talk about self-loathing.
And so it goes with every -ism and -ist and -ic. Projecting one’s self hatred on to everyone.
Ever wonder why most of the world doesn’t buy into your twisted way of thinking? Why Christians, for example, don’t call you or Kieran a Christianophobe?
Hint: fear and self-loathing is for people like you and your friends Bec. That is your prison. It’s a prison which you can leave if you have the courage to leave it. Seems however you’ve given up, and want to wear your resignation as a badge of honour.
I didn’t say anything about whom you love. I question who amongst your little cheer squad really loves you. I certainly know that you don’t love yourself.
Twenty two and oh-so-I-know-it-all-and-so much-better than the rest of the world, and I am going to self-destruct and stuffed if I care, no-ones gonna stop me. Because that is what you are doing Bec. Self-destructing.
It’s funny that this doesn’t resemble self-destruction, either in my own life or the many others I’ve known over the years. It runs back to the title of my post: you, as a middle-aged cisman who, by his own admission, knows absoutely nothing about trans issues, and would appear to have never met a transperson, would presume that transitioning must be “self-destruction”. Which really comes back to my point: how on earth would you know?
If you want to tell me you’re an adult then own it completely: this is the prison you’ve locked yourself in, be it by ignorance, wilfulness, self-deception, all by yourself.
As I said to amphibious above, you have an interesting concept of the prison. You, terrified of doing a million things for fear of being too feminine, too homosocial, too different, are the liberated; those of us who genuinely do not care for that world of fear are the prisoners. It’s an interesting inversion of reality, though I wonder how it stands up in your own head.
And such a happy life it has been for you Bec, that here you are on your happy blog, full of snark and self-loathing, telling the world about your life-long happiness.
Snark? Absolutely. This is a world in which I’m targeted for being a woman, for being queer, and for being trans. It’s a world in which people I respect are targeted for their race or for their disability. These things are outrageous, and they deserve to be called out - and my particular style is to overload on the snark. Self-loathing? Hardly. This is my political blog; you presume much, but my life resembles in no way the caricatures you imagine.
And such a wonderful life you have ahead of you: what is it? A life-long committment to hormones and psychiatry bills and trying to hide an Adam’s apple in a dress along with a narrow, self-centred, circle of friends which thrives on attention-seeking and hate?
This is where one wonders where on earth you get your ideas from. I pay no psychiatry bills; I take a pill every day like, oh, a pretty sizable chunk of the population these days. I have no outwardly male features that anyone I’m not sleeping with is going to notice, so there really isn’t much to hide. My circle of friends is actually pretty wide, thank you. And attention-seeking and hate? Ease up on the drugs, honey.
It’s a wonder people aren’t stacking their kids on planes to Thailand for a quick snip and a set of prescriptions, no questions asked - without all the angst and paperwork and the bullshit ego-stroking to convince them, they’re happy little Vegemites.
Er, because those kids aren’t trans? Again with the “if we don’t ban it, everyone will want some!” thinking. It’s crazy talk.
Think about what you said to me alone. To criticise gays, according to you for example, is seen to be a fear being or becoming gay themselves. Insulting gays tars you with gayness. Talk about self-loathing.
Yes, homophobia does come across as being self-loathing. Your writing bears a great deal of anxiety about femininity, women, and queer issues: why would someone who that doesn’t bother get so worked up about whether the country or the church is “pussified”? You don’t just criticise being queer or being trans; it’s as if you genuinely think that if without sanction, everyone would be doing it, and it’s that that really horrifies you. This would bely some question as to why that makes sense in your particular head.
Ever wonder why most of the world doesn’t buy into your twisted way of thinking? Why Christians, for example, don’t call you or Kieran a Christianophobe?
Actually, I do call Kieran a Christianophobe - he’s an evangelical atheist, and it annoys the bejesus out of me. I have no Christian faith myself, because I cannot reconcile elements of church teachings with my belief in social justice, but I have many people I respect in my life who are of faith, and fervently defend their right to hold those ideals. It’s the homophobia, the transphobia and the misogyny that I call out, not the religion itself.
Hint: fear and self-loathing is for people like you and your friends Bec. That is your prison. It’s a prison which you can leave if you have the courage to leave it. Seems however you’ve given up, and want to wear your resignation as a badge of honour.
Again with this talk of prisons. I’ve lived in your particular prison, and I have no desire to set foot there ever again. It’s something of which you have no understanding: to do that would actually feel like doing drag every day for the rest of my life, and yeah, not exactly fun. It is you who possesses the fear, and arguably the self-loathing; these days, I’ve not got much to be scared about. Being oneself, who one really is, rather than who you think the patriarchy wants you to be, is a blessing; maybe you should try it sometime.
I didn’t say anything about whom you love. I question who amongst your little cheer squad really loves you. I certainly know that you don’t love yourself.
I suggest that what you might be able to take away from this encounter is that clairvoyancy is probably not an ideal career choice for you. One gets to the point of self-respect by being who one is, not by running from that. I might suggest to you the book A Life of Unlearning by Anthony Venn-Brown; coming from a similar background of to you, he explains this well. Or, y’know, presume away, ignorance being bliss and all.
saint, dude, I’ll be using your comment as an example of projection, because it’s the best example I’ve seen so far.
Bec you have no idea how wildly wrong you are about me. But I won’t spoil your delusions and correct you. You seem to love telling stories.
And you seem to like telling stories about yourself too. One minute you’re out and proud for eight years, the next minute you’ve lived in some prison and have only just escaped and don’t want to go back to “living in drag.” So what is it Bec? How often do you revise your story, keep telling yourself a different version? If I asked your parents, teachers, siblings others who grew up with you, would I get a similar story to the one you tell your self, well, today?
And who are you Bec? Who knows who you really are and who you are meant to be? Your friends with their two-bit platitudes plucked at random from the internet? The next wanky lefty academic who couldn’t give a toss about you? You, with all your years of worldly experience?
Anthony Venn-Brown, ha! You really are a newbie on the blogs. What a sad little self-promoter. He’ll probably be googling himself and pop up here with some promo for his book. I suppose he needs the cash. This is the sort of person you should avoid for your own good. Another one who can’t face himself and has spun a good yarn to pretend he can and that you can too.
And gosh you’re full of it. Listen to yourself Bec:
“Being oneself, who one really is, rather than who you think the patriarchy wants you to be, is a blessing; maybe you should try it sometime.”
For someone who claims no fear, you are sounding paranoid. Who or what is this “patriarchy” which you fear?
And tell me, given this big, bad patriarchy, why the hell would you want to be a woman? If you don’t like patriachy as a man, well it’s far worse as a woman. Patiarchies oppress women don’t they? That’s what all the big bad feminazis tell you. Why not ask Helen (who I thought had more sense) who finds torrents and torrents of misogyny in an email. So what’s with this dumb transwoman bit of yours then? “Oh please, hate me, oppress me even more.”
Nope. Fear and self loathing Bec. And that fear and self loathing is twisting your thinking no end and making you fear and hate yourself even more.
And you seem to like telling stories about yourself too. One minute you’re out and proud for eight years, the next minute you’ve lived in some prison and have only just escaped and don’t want to go back to “living in drag.”
Nope. You’ve got a productive imagination, though. I’ve been out for eight years: that doesn’t change the fact that I have in fact lived in the prison you keep espousing the benefits of living in, and would prefer my freedom, kthx.
If I asked your parents, teachers, siblings others who grew up with you, would I get a similar story to the one you tell your self, well, today?
Yep. I find it interesting that on being called on your shit, your tone changes so rapidly from “poor dear that I must offer to save” to “liar!”.
Your friends with their two-bit platitudes plucked at random from the internet? The next wanky lefty academic who couldn’t give a toss about you? You, with all your years of worldly experience?
My, he’s getting nasty! I have friends who’ve actually thought through their beliefs, and as such really aren’t much for hatin’; whether that be oh, women, people of colour, queer people, or transpeople, all of whom you seem to have a problem with. And the next wanky lefty academic who couldn’t give a toss about me? Honey, that’s the very topic of my thesis, which only the other day was making you snort your coffee…
And tell me, given this big, bad patriarchy, why the hell would you want to be a woman? If you don’t like patriachy as a man, well it’s far worse as a woman. Patiarchies oppress women don’t they?
…er, because I am a woman. The fact that this means that I have to live under patriarchy is why I’m a feminist, and why I call folks like you on your shit. I am impressed, however, that you’ve worked out that patriarchies oppress women. Perhaps there’s hope for you after all. Hah.
Why not ask Helen (who I thought had more sense) who finds torrents and torrents of misogyny in an email.
Helen posted an email she’d been sent which was both profoundly racist and misogynist; that you would respond to that with more of both - and then demean Helen’s “sense” for calling you on it - says much about your character.
Nope. Fear and self loathing Bec. And that fear and self loathing is twisting your thinking no end and making you fear and hate yourself even more.
Que? That doesn’t even make any sense. I’m going with GallingGalla’s projection hypothesis here…
And what shit did you call me on Bec?
Do you know how stupid that sounds: “There’s a patriarchy - well someone told me so anyway; I don’t like what it expects of men it’s oppressive, so I’ll become a woman and get more oppressed, but oh wait I’ll become a feminist and that’s going to protect me or something’ and on it goes. Too bad if your original premise was wrong. Do I need to add stupid to the fear and loathing?
Well maybe. You say the email Helen got was profoundly racist? Hahahahahaha. (And yes I have noted that you called me a racist too. I guess slander must be your middle name). Oh wait, the idiots at your university haven’t taught you that (a) cats are not human beings and (b) Islam is not a race. You’ve worked that out all by yourself.
For someone who likes to throw cries of -ist this, and -ist that around you really don’t know which one’s which do you Bec?
I am glad, having now read your next post, that you do agree with me on one thing: your little “community” is toxic. And who knows how toxic you are to others around you. (It is however, always ironic that the people who talk about community the most, usually don’t know what it means, and think you can manufacture it by forming an activist group and a social club.) Next time you think of “community”, ask yourself what it is you are really seeking.
But do look at your trans friends carefully Bec, because that is your future. That’s you in 10, 20, 30, 40 years.
And as for your thesis. What? Do you think wanky lefty academics are *supposed* to give a toss about you? Or do you think someone other than wanky lefty academics are supposed to care? You don’t get it do you.
But hey, go ahead, spend all that time and money to write a thesis three people will read (if that), no one will care about, and which will change nothing, inspire noone, and contribute nothing to anyone, about any matter of import, not even to yourself.
Comfort yourself that the topic alone made good coffee snorting for 2 seconds. And you got three whole comments at your blog.
Woohoo.
>>Bec you have no idea how wildly wrong you are about me.>>
zzz * …I’m sorry; who the hell are you and why are we supposed to care what your innermost squishy self is, again?
Look, it’s right Christian of you to come in and save Rebecca (did she give you permission to call her by a nickname?) but,
“nobody asked you sir, she said.”
Don’t you have some touch football to play with towheaded moppets in the crisp autumn air, encourage them to stay on the straight and narrow, something of that sort?
“Alas, we are not blessed with an elucidation of why writing about power dynamics in the feminist and queer movements is such a shocking topic that it would require him to snort his coffee.”
Well, maybe he just does that on the regular anyway. Manlier that way, goes straight to the adrenals. Michael “Weiner” Savage used to give himself coffee enemas, after all, and you don’t get much healthier a specimen of well-adjusted self-loving manhood than him!
Alas, we are not blessed with an elucidation of why writing about power dynamics in the feminist and queer movements is such a shocking topic that it would require him to snort his coffee.
I going to go with “too stupid to understand that liquid goes down the esophagus, not the trachea”.
And what shit did you call me on Bec?
Well, being a complete troglodyte is a jolly good start.
Here from Belle’s.
Saint darling, for someone who’s all upset about the evil perversity, you sure seem to know a bit about standard preparation for anal sex. It’s only okay if you’re the top, is it? Or something even more utterly ridiculous?
I’m always weirdly charmed in that “implausibly ugly zoo animal” way by people who wander around shouting about how truly being loved is accepting their abuse-in-the-name-of-their-god. It’s kind of cute, so long as it’s on the other side of the glass, the way they think they matter beyond the entertainment they provide as they dance.
“Annihilate your individual self for Jesus!” Nietzsche has got to be rolling in his grave.
From laughter.
You’ve found a real prize here, Rebecca. An armchair psychiatrist, possibly even a telepath since he apparently believes he can read your mind and determine your “true” life and motives. It’s a convenient way to avoid real engagement.
Saint, you’re an idiot. Get over yourself, live your own life. You’re not trying to talk to Rebecca, you’re trying to bully her - to impose your worldview on her life, as if her own worldview, life, and experiences are irrelevant in considering her worldview, life, and experiences. Your arguments are mind-numbingly stupid and exactly like every other bigot’s.
Or continue, but understand that you’re a grotesque spectacle, nothing more.
Ah but don’t you SEE, Rebecca? He sees your life–and indeed all trans lives–with the clarity that can only come from a mind unencumbered by the deadly weight of knowledge on a subject.
But do look at your trans friends carefully Bec, because that is your future. That’s you in 10, 20, 30, 40 years.
Rebecca, if your trans friends are anything like my trans friends, then you have a wonderful future to look forward to. (Sounds like certain people are hanging out with the wrong bunch.)
Actually, I’m a bit worried about the pussyfication of Christianity too.
Jesus walked around with 12 other blokes in a DRESS. Saying “love one another as I have loved you” sounds pretty fruity to me. And “love thy neighbour?” TOTALLY gay - and possibly instigating some kind of orgy situation.
Seriously though, it’s one of the peculiar points of contemporary Christianity–particularly evangelical versions–to have a particularly anxious version of masculinity. The solution being of course the contortions that turn a religion of peace into pro-gun, pro-war Christianity in the US. And not uncoincidentally, linked to homophobia and a fear of femininity.
So what if you turn the spirit of the law into its opposite, hey, at least THOSE people don’t get above themselves and start thinking they’re as good as, like, proper people. And you’re a REAL man, oh yes you are, oh yes you are.
Pah.
I’ve never worn a dress that would hide an Adam’s apple. That little pill will help, though–much of the shape has to do with muscle and fat rather than bone. I had a boyish neck for a little while even though my hyoid bone didn’t change at all; it had to do with my body’s tendency to lean out and grow muscle. You won’t have to wear that beekeeper’s veil forever, Rebecca!
But all of this, I think, is beside the point. The likelihood of passing, and the efficacy of hormone therapy and surgery, is not something Saint is much interested in learning about. If it were, he’d be more inclined to admit that it’s not all that difficult for most transitioning people.
If Saint honestly believes that social opprobrium should be first among Rebecca’s considerations when she’s deciding whether or not to transition (and while we can dispute the degree, purpose, and details of that hatred, I think we all agree that it’s there), then why does he see it as a duty to perpetuate the hatred? He bears some individual responsibility for the way that transwomen are dismissed as “men in dresses,” treated as freaks, forced to cover and pass, made paranoid about the shape of their throats. She’s right to throw in her lot with the politically correct. They’re the people who aren’t working to create a more dangerous world for her every time they speak.
Has anyone considered that humouring this guy with responses actually appears to be getting him off? In his lonely little world of blog trawling.. and I’ve checked.. (he gets around the lil’hussy).. all this lovely human angst back at the shit-stirring he’s doing is feeding his twisted white-bread ego nicely.
I bet he wakes up and runs to the comp each morning to see what new posts each of his vomiting ignorance has created. Oh.. I’m sure in his own mind he’s cloaked in it a righteous crusade to save the world.
But, in the end if you have the courage to look beneath, it’s not really about that is it Saint?
It’s quite sad really.
>>Has anyone considered that humouring this guy with responses actually appears to be getting him off?>>
o of course. that goes without saying. it’s not about him. it’s about amusing ourselves. when his entertainment factor ceases to outweigh his “ick” factor, well, -plonk-
at least that’s always been my M.O.
QE: actually it’s got a history goes back at least to the 19th century. “muscular Christianity.” as opposed to all those lily-livered milk-and-water Temperance-and-Suffrage type Christians (*koffHugokoff*).
the kitsch factor has, of course, really come into its full flower with the advent of mass media.
>>You won’t have to wear that beekeeper’s veil forever, Rebecca!>>
pity.
“AAAHHHH!!! I’m covered in beeeeeeees!”
“I like my coffee like I like my women…covered in beeeeeeees!”
[…] were attacks on myself and a couple of my friends, Rebecca and Ryan. You can read their responses here and […]
oooh, this appears to be an argument from the position of “I know you are but what am I”. Standard troll tactics, you point something out, they immediately throw it back at you. “You’re making crap up” “No you’re more crap up” and so on.
Well, I’ve posted a response to all this rubbish over at my blog.
>>Has anyone considered that humouring this guy with responses actually appears to be getting him off?>>
o of course. that goes without saying. it’s not about him. it’s about amusing ourselves. when his entertainment factor ceases to outweigh his “ick” factor, well, -plonk-
at least that’s always been my M.O.
There are other reasons, he’s a stirling example of a shithead, and occasionally it’s useful or interesting to blog about the arguments/thought processes of these shit heads. Only occasionally though, and before he gets any chance to dispirit or dominate my blog, his IP is going straight into Bad Behavior.
I need a shower after reading some of saint’s comments here (btw, it’s a presumptuous nickname for a Christian - is it not? And please don’t tell me you’re trying to be “ironic,” or whatever, because condescendingly lecturing someone in this way AND calling yourself saint is too much of a coincidence). What an icky obsession with Rebecca’s personal life.
belle: Yes, I know. But as an academic uncaring about trans people beyond their trendyness, I didn’t want to get into a whole thing. I think it’s taken on distinctly contemporary dimensions, though, not unrelated to other backlashes to progressive movements, as well as shifts in the culture related to new forms of media blah blah
Who wants a sammich? I am currently deciding between brown sugar glazed ham, mesquite turkey, and a balsamic vinegar pork loin. WHAT TO DO?
What Would Saint Eat?
I feel he would eat all three, because eating three meats would counter-act the sammich pussyfication of the brown sugar glaze and balsamic vinegar.
I think the glazed ham sounds mightily tasty. But then again, I did just sleep through breakfast…