In which I admit that I’m kind of wrong about something, but only in a way that totally validates me. So don’t get too excited.

To kick off this exercise in self-flagellation, let me share a post I made online – or “on the computer” as my Luddite friends say – earlier this week.  Here it is, beginning under the image – which is just a screenshot, so don’t sit there clicking on it.  I mean, really.


“   … And one more thing, directed at the author of this piece. I’m not shy about stating that I’m a left-leaning liberal, and atheist/humanist. But putting a caption on the video that starts with “Insane woman” is childish and uncalled for, and sets a poor example of tolerance, to say the least. Although I disagree strongly with this woman’s views, I would never demean her by labelling her “insane”. You need to treat people with respect, even if you don’t respect their ideas. Otherwise 1. You’ve alienated her and lost a teaching opportunity, and 2. you are just exhibiting the same closed mind that you claim to abhor.”

With the wisdom of hindsight:
Reading through my post — which I like to do when I’m not staring into my 52″ gilt-framed mirror and making little smooching noises — I must admit I had a ROTFL moment at “teaching opportunity”. Whatever I was smoking that day, you sure can’t have any because it’s obviously way good.

This woman couldn’t be taught to find her ass outdoors at high noon, a happy outcome that is unfortunately not available to the rest of us, whose light she is blocking. (And is that a dead muskrat on the occasional table? Sounds like lunch!)

Point #2 should be more about courtesy than about closed minds.  And yes, it’s apparent that I, too, need a few more trips, backwards in high heels, around the dance floor of discretion before I master the “Rise-Above-It Beguine”.

So off to the thirty lashes with a wet noodle facility for me, the better to recalibrate my mind under the severe yet lovingly-administered tutelage of my personal trainer, Brick Rod (about whom I still occasionally wonder: Why on earth did his parents name him that? And what’s with all the Art Deco furniture?).

There is a Number 3 that I forgot to add.

OK, I didn’t think of it till now. But still. And though it’s a bit subtle, I’m going to take a chance that you can handle it.

#3. Taking refuge in insults is not just beneath us, it diverts our attention from a serious, even sinister, truth.

Calling this woman “insane” dismisses and marginalizes her; to believe her insane is to believe that she has no power, and also to deny the angry, insane whiner who lives in each of us (q.v. the “Hitler was a monster” trope).

We would like to think of her, and dear addled Adolf, as flukes, freaks of nature; to believe it can’t happen here.

But oh my pretties, how wrong we are.

As my final word on the matter, allow me to share with you a postcard that has pride of position on my fridge:


Hope this helps.

{Quick question:  Are my titles obfuscatingly verbose?   Please be honest.

Oh, really?}

©2015, David Roddis.

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