As I was saying......
So I wrote and published this little social media ditty on 10/10/2023 and, as expected. It made a lot of people upset. Which was kinda the point.
I hope you realize this isn’t some scribbling of contrition to get back in the graces of anyone I may have offended. I’m glad you’re offended, there’s a political and cultural utility to offense and the conventional thinking that life is to be absent offense is one of those more overwrought and under-investigated symptoms of the blithering obliviousness that characterizes contemporary American existence (a worthwhile essay topic, but not for today).
In short. Were you offended? Yes? Good. Fuck you.
Where I am regretful is more a matter of poorly considered framing; “I was in bed thinking...what is the impact on the shithead’s career.” (I actually composed the tweet in my head 15 minutes after my first coffee) What was meant to be mordantly sardonic read as the typical “completely unrehearsed inspiration” that is the default tone of the mini-blog. It allows for a reading where it appears I may not be in full appreciation of the significantly objectionable nature of what I wrote.
No. I meant it. I deliberately chose creepy-looking sitcom personality Danny Masterson because his crimes, his response, and his trial are one of the most recent stains on the collective conscious and one where pretty much everyone was on the same page in their reaction and those who were not were roundly castigated for good reason.
I chose to poke the sacrosanct bear that is the narrative of Danny Masterson and his cult enablers because I was pissed. Really fucking pissed after spending three goddam days watching ostensible social justice holly homemakers along with their digital mobs of political science graduates of Reddit State celebrating in the wake of the coordinated and deliberate slaughter of hundreds of Israelis, most of whom were in positions or contexts that assured limited or no means to fight back. Whooping it up or, arguable more objectionably, engaging in some mock-kabuki solemnity whereby the atrocities are divorced from their obvious transgression of human decency beyond reason “because of the inexorable thrust of history”. Hell, finding instances of even the typically requisite rhetorical foreplay; acknowledging that the unquestioned and uncontested actions of Hamas’ gibbering thugs were A. Bad. Thing. I had a knot in my stomach going on three days that wouldn’t release as I saw example after example of people I liked, admired or just unfortunately found myself once adjacent to demonstrate that because the Ethnic SEO pulled up such recent keyword flags like “colonial” “occupation” and even “genocide” that the quality of unarmed, ununiformed life was lesser than what was necessary to merit a fucking emoji shrug.
So yeah. I meant to be fucking offensive because, believe or not, what I had been seeing up until then was fairly fucking offensive. All of a sudden every Jewish paranoia that infected my family for generations rang true. Every memory of family kindly reminding me to keep in touch more was recast with existential import . The sinking feeling that I pushed to the side in my brain after Tree of Life, after Kanye/Elon after every “Globalist” and “Soros” utterance, that feeling that somehow the pews weren’t as full for this rendition of Hate and Rejection call and response theater. For four days it’s been laid bare that the past 45 years of my life trying to give a fuck and make a difference where possible, to stick my neck out and use my rarefied platform (which damaged my career time and time again), all of that was a fucking scam. The sucker’s bargain in passively believing that the social compact would still hold even when it got complex, when it got complicated. When it inconveniently requires separating the act from the movement, holding two miscegenating thoughts in your head simultaneously, sacrificing the bravado to show how hard, how loyal to ideology you can be, sacrificing the approbation for once in your empty, shitty lives. When it finally required that the scales fell from the eyes and oh so few of us were left and we had a big, yellow fucking twinkling target on our chests.
So yeah, I took a big fucking dump on your Danny Masterson Rape Culture is Bad Maypole Dance because I felt like upsetting people. Consider it to be the result of inexorable historical precedents after the distracting toothsome smiles from all you fucking goyim and shiksas gave way to awareness of the rhinestone leash you slipped around our necks. I only regret the distracting framework of the tweet because it undermined just how much I fucking meant it.
It’s 1:30 on October 11th, Steve “David Duke without the baggage” Scalise is about to become Speaker of the House and I couldn’t give a rat’s ass as to what happens because, whatever wicked shit it is, it ain’t going to be about me because at least that’s politically unwise right now. I’m refreshing the Haaretz live updates page waiting for the invasion of the slowly starving residents of Gaza in my name without my consent which will most certainly make any outward display of my heritage even less wise than normal. I’m researching all the possible primary opponents to sitting DSA congresspeople for donation. I’m having serious discussions with The Wife about moving to Israel (if it’s still standing), which requires moving to family I rejected because of their stance on Netanyahu and Palestine, because I watched a segment of American society dissipate with gleeful alacrity before my eyes.
Checking one last time: 1,200 dead in 128 hours and the flags are still waving because it’s just jews.
Spare me your outrage.