Hemingway's bullet riddled scrotum

https://www.theguardian.com/world/2016/nov/09/western-civilisation-appiah-reith-lecture

Kwame Anthony Appiah wants you to know, you chauvinistic rube, that there is no such thing as western civilization. You’ve been laboring under a delusion all your benighted, bigoted life. But fear not, easily confused and bamboozled knuckle dragger, because a British university educated son of a Ghanian father and mud sharking, aristocratic british mother is here to repeal and replace at least one major building block in the impressive edifice of superstitious nonsense you call a mind. 

We’ve all heard the tune of‘Western Civilization’ whistle through the wind flaps of innumerable defenders and detractors. For some, Western Civilization is the source of all things right, good, beautiful and true. It’s the mighty river of technologically innovative, democratically governed, wealth creating and distributing societies feeding a thousand dependent and often ungrateful tributary streams. To its many fortunate sons, men and women of the earth, of humble, untitled origins and working or middle class stations, Western Civilization grants powers and gives pleasures that would turn a roman emperor neon green with apoplectic envy. 

But all things great attract the minor and minuscule; parasites, gnats, and ankle biting vermin living for no other purpose than tearing down and reveling in the ruin of what they could never create or maintain with their own effort. Bilious baboons running on the self immolating fuel of high time preference hoot and howl in furious disapproval at the sight of the slower burning self sustaining ways of the gratification delaying, posterity oriented, forward thinking and past preserving civilized type. Slaves of savage whim despise those with the mettle to master themselves.

And so you hear no end of recycled garbage about how Western Civilization is the great scourge of the earth. The mighty tyrant, the imperial occupier, the enforcer of alien ideals, the merciless meddler, corrupter, and perverter. Destroyer of nature, Juggernaut industrial rape ship set to warp speed resource extraction. Exporter of filth and degeneracy, sower of discordant seeds of stinking weeds. On the strength of philosophical well poisoners and scientifically calibrated oppressors, Western Civilization turns life on earth into a broiling hell for most to create heaven for a few.

Where anything of monumental importance is contested, where legacies are on the line and action is necessary, an academic will be there to fart out a nebulous gas cloud of obfuscation. The latest hand waving magic act begins with its conclusion in the headline and dully spins out unconvincing, stale, specious arguments in support of what it so dearly wants you to believe. Underneath the pompous, loopy, circular verbal trickery and smokescreen rhetoric is an insidious message, crystalline in its clarity and intent. 

White western man of european descent, you who have any sense of belonging to a great tradition, a member of a racial or religious majority keen on preserving that majority status: you are destined for displacement and dispossession. A thousand years of marginalization, of tearful regrets and apologies from the shit specked bottom rung of our new world ladder ladder awaits you. It’s been decided and only has to be played out, and the less you resist, the better. Because you see, what you think you’ve inherited belongs to everyone else now. Your descent means nothing; it’s genes, identity and culture for everyone else but you.

All other peoples of the world are empowered to stick together as genetically related populations with binding customs and traditions for the purpose of looting the storehouses of civilization built by your ancestors. You are to enthusiastically join the chorus of croaking swamp frogs and demand your own demise; the only discarded scrap of ethnic consciousness tossed from the table of your well fed superiors is the acute awareness of your collective and individual guilt. 

Characteristic of deconstructive approaches like the one our vibrant scholar takes is a kind of exaggerated shadow boxing with flimsy and weak concepts conjured out of thin air. What the author undresses is what he himself first dresses up. These kinds of recliner ready wank sessions sit back on tacit acceptance of highly skewed, ill or undefined terms just waiting to be corrosively analyzed into oblivion. No normal person ever talks about or believes in “essentialism”, or has a literal, fundamentalist understanding of ideal forms or unchanging essences.

No one thinks that a culture is only cohesive and genuine if it’s strictly composed of one homogenous group of people living in the exact same place over an infinite span of time without any adaptations, mutations, assimilations, cross pollinations, migrations, or foreign elements whatsoever. What we call Western Civilization is a specific interlacing of peoples, practices, ideas, and values which have evolved over time in a continuous and consistent enough fashion to be recognizable and distinctive. The narrative or mythic aspect of a culture is no mark against its solidity or reality. 

Arab scholars commenting on Greek philosophy and medieval peasants ignorant of Latin are some of the pathetic examples brought forth as empirical evidence of Western Civilization’s lack of continuity and homogeneity, and therefore its nullity. Our resident expert on things that don’t exist wants to turn higher, lower, and auxiliary threads of a history into proof of its fraying and fabrication. “See, you hoodwinked hoodlum, you think the latin language and greek philosophy are part of your heritage, but not everyone knew latin and a few muslims handled Aristotle for a while, so forget about claiming anything special for yourself.”

Just because not every one is on the exact same page of cultural transmission doesn’t mean the greater book has no binding. And it doesn’t mean there aren’t common interests threatened by hostile forces without and undermined by corrosive, defeatist, dysfunctional elements within. Don’t worry, deracinated consumption drone, it’s all good now, our greasy high priest of pastiche reassures us; you can read Kant and listen to rap at the same time. You can gorge yourself at the buffet of instantaneous pap culture. A little of this, a little of that, a little more of this over here until you’re fat and demoralized with no room left for any fight within you. “Sorry, I stuffed myself with smatterings of our new global culture, I’m ready to roll over for anyone and anything now.” 

The exact term “Western Civilization” may in fact be modern, but it’s an appropriate and applicable term for the coalescing of historically continuous patterns of interaction among groups of people with geographic, genetic, and intellectual common ground. Although it’s amenable to changes, it can’t just become anything whatsoever. And although there's an enduring identity over time, it doesn’t mean there’s an immaterial essence waiting to be deconstructed and dismissed. 

History always has a retroactive aspect to it. People in the present have a wider scope through which to view the actions of their ancestors that led to their current conditions. And sometimes the catalyst of a strong collective identity is the emergence or reemergence of a vigorous, determined enemy. The higher and lower classes of the western world do have their own conflicts with each other, but they also have shared ways and beliefs to defend as a unified people. Especially in times of local fragmentation and familial breakdown, people need larger banners to rally under if they want to survive, even if those banners contain strands of myth and fantasy. 

Elephant Septic Tank

We Americans dwell in different worlds, indeed. Not only do our values diverge; our basic perceptions clash. One set of eyeballs watched the white house correspondence dinner and saw a cutting, hilarious performance by the brave, Indian muslim american comedian Hasan Minhaj in the presence of the ever principled press. A different pair of eyes crinkled and saw a lame, tame, shrill, embarrassing, cheap, unfunny flailfest hosted by spurned, spiteful nerds who persistently refuse to accept their weakening grip on the American public and waning influence on the Executive Branch of the Government. 

The results are in for the American experiment in its most soul crushing, contemporary guise: it’s a failure. Abstract American ideals(proposition nation), liberalism and destructive immigration policies have produced a shattered polity without a shred of comity, a fractured amalgam of alien tribes seething with envy and distrust for each other, an indigestible, managerial soup of  stewing identities tensely and inorganically jumbled together in historically anomalous and culturally evaporating melting pots. 

Sophisticated simpletons call for more conversation, more exposure, more dialogue across channels. They mistake the problem for the solution. We are overly aware of people unlike ourselves and painfully proximate to untrustworthy others. Far from living in tritely and tiredly titled echo chambers, we rather live in noisy, clanging, disorganized, disagreeable vaults of dissonance, where people we don’t like and don’t want near us proudly blast their every antagonistic opinion at every available opportunity.

Healthy and robust debate is a sporting practice for people who are mostly the same and mostly believe the same things. Trying to debate someone that wants you dead, gone, or converted is like playing chess with a tiger. You may have brilliant moves on the board, but you’re still getting your face ripped off.

I read a CNN article by some disposable, dickless ham-sack reporter, Don Oblodoobie or whatever, on the White House corruptspondents dinner. This raggedy ann doll of a man seriously thought that Trump held a rally in Pennsylvania because he wanted to distract attention away from the dinner. Because he just couldn’t withstand the hickory smoked heat of a street shitting diversity hire's blazing comedic barbecue. Our oncall deepthroat specialist/reporter sashayed his merry way to the clueless contention that Trump is once again showing himself too tender for a real roasting and didn't want anyone else to notice it either. 

The full menu of exhaustively mined material offered by the oily, spit shined ventriloquist dumbwaiter included such rich dishes as “ Our president isn’t here because he can’t take a joke”, “the orange man with the muslim ban”, and a joke about putin being the real president of the US. It doesn’t get any deadlier than this caste society castoff's surgically slicing wit; Trump obviously had to skip town for fear of getting thoroughly dissected down to his gleaming white russian puppet bones.

It’s not like Trump hasn’t already weathered an olympic shitstorm of feckless, numbnut, wide of the mark insults from day zero of his campaign for president. Or endured the deluge of tone deaf, lobotomized droning about his character defects, lack of morals and stupidity once he became president.

It’s not as though every single moment of every single day isn’t already densely packed with irate, hysterical featherweights fluttering for him to step down or be impeached, hyperventilated outrage from suddenly upright sentinels of civilization fretting and fussing like Victorian schoolmarms, unlikeable prigs tripping over each other to be the most aghast, the most asthmatically offended and terrified, as well as repetitious, hackneyed cliches and junior high heaving over Trump's appearance and manners.   

Yes, of course that's the answer; poor, thin skinned, stupid little donnie boy had to run and hide from the righteously superior media just waiting to remind him for the first time of his manifold imperfections. This is the same man who built and maintained a business empire and wrote a manual on negotiation and persuasion, became a television star, ran an unexpectedly successful campaign in which he systemically targeted, undermined, and destroyed his rivals one by one and made the entire republican party look like the inept, bumbling, shilling sacks of shit that they truly are in front of the whole world. 

And then without missing a step or pausing for rest, took on and took down the corrupt democratic political machine and its frankenstein’s monster of sleazy, reptilian career politicians, illiterate dish washing track and field athletes, alien crime syndicates,  self loathing, hedonistic and atomized whites, dysphoric freaks and dysfunctional blacks mush mouthing about non existent structural racism in society as their own kind casually massacred each other over sneakers and disruhspeck in the streets.

When reviewing this meteoric rise from unoriginal object of ridicule as a reality television star to consistently lampooned presidential candidate to mechanically mocked president, this arc of triumph studded with slander and scorn,  any journalist with any sense at all would conclude that Trump the man can take a joke and a whole hell of a lot more.

But when the sniveling, weaseling, trash eating, slime coated press fires up its collectively available three brain cells and squeezes out the desiccated turd of a thought that Trump is afraid of them, that he can’t take a joke, they’re engaging in a highly wrought, humiliating form of histrionic projection. Trump played them all like fools, turning their self righteous, shameless power whoring and obsessive, catty, vindictiveness against them, to the delight of the formerly disempowered American people. He showed the people you can shame the shamers right back, and then ignore them. 

The joke is on the press, and they’re the ones who can’t take it; Trump and the rest of America are laughing at the humorless, spastic dorks clutching their clipboards and ineffectually, effeminately scribbling their latest charisma depleted screeds oozing with incompetence and smug self assuredness. 

The message of Trump rallying his people rather than falling asleep from boredom at a laugh-less dork dinner is as clear and obvious as the press is willfully, perversely obtuse and degenerate: The “free” press doesn't control  the american people and can't shame them into giving up their country and their dignity. Nor can they control the President. Rather than staging more spectacles and zombie march protests, each and every bug eyed, soulless presstitute can go huff and hot box their own curry scented farts in their tightly packed media clown car. Trump isn't a desperate despot, using every available trick to silence and discredit his detractors; he's an indifferent jock, ignoring the rabble rousing goons until it's time to shove their heads into dirty toilet water for a laugh. 

And people who care about an America with borders, rule of law and truth and beauty are perfectly able and willing to make decisions for themselves without the distorted dogma and interference of increasingly obsolete bobble headed hand puppets of the globalist, spirit sucking, nation wrecking, demographically displacing schemers.

The Titanic press is sinking and these encrusted assholes are listening to the band play as the ice water approaches. The blindness and arrogance that led to the rise of Trump can’t and won’t be corrected now. Rather than reform their ways and beg for forgiveness on their knees, they’ll march ahead with jihadi lesbians and shitskin hack comedians until their last, weak, alienating hand has been played and they have nowhere to go but shrieking and screaming into the eternal night of irrelevance. 

Dear members of the media: no ones likes you or respects you, you insular, febrile, feculent pack of jackals and vultures, you lackeys and lickspittles, you bull fluffers, cowards and tattle tales. Your whoring grew shameful enough to shock even the sleepy, consuming masses into a state of vigilance and intolerance, and you have no moral or intellectual authority over governing bodies or voting peoples.

I dream of the day when your last extravagant, back patting, ungainly, nervous cackling dinner takes place before a firing squad.