Not all protests equal

Even Copernicus couldn’t tell these people they’re not the center of the universe, these narcissists who proclaim dominion over time – the past sanctimoniously scorned, the future shamed into submission, all the selfish reach of the humanity before them exceeded by their deified grasp, superior to all that have come before.

 

How does one reason with people whose indignation has been made so utterly righteous by the New York Times and Washington Post and CNN and all the rest?

They’ve made these protesters think they’re the center of all reason and that virtue radiates from their every deed. They’ve been told they’re the “ones we’ve been waiting for,” social superheroes in a world inhabited by Nazis and racists, and all outside their own little sphere are deplorable heretics.

Their wrath, expressed throughout time with inquisitions, guillotines, gas chambers, rocks and Molotov cocktails, is complete. The true social justice warriors.

In reality, though, they are social justice jesters.

Sixty-three people were shot in Chicago alone in one recent weekend. No one protested.

Poor children still attend inferior schools, not given the dignity-affirming choice afforded rich people. No one protests.

The ploughshare of free speech has been made the sword of thought control, with “hands up don’t shoot” and “fry the police like bacon” given equal status to “We the people,” “angels of our better nature” and “I have a dream.”

No one protests.

The protests of the warriors were courageous, against actual injustice, and met with fire hoses, billy clubs and attack dogs.

The protests of the jesters are like the old Jerry Lewis gag with him looking for his car keys in a well-lit room because it was dark in the parking lot where he actually lost them. They simply don’t protest true injustice.

In the year 897, Pope Stephen VI had the dead Pope Formosus exhumed, dressed, positioned upon a throne, and tried for crimes committed while he was alive. Found unsurprisingly guilty, his body was thrown into a river.

Given today’s climate, that doesn’t seem so odd.

Soon we could be a’changing the lyrics of Bob Dylan because the times, to these people, are not a’changin. It seems that “these people” are off their schizophrenia medication, exhuming the past, putting it on trial, and crashing 2010 Dodge Challengers through it in a demolition derby of hate and ignorance while disregarding those things actually needing change.

A very few people with no money, no power – and the means to get neither – pretend to be Nazis and become the perfect enemy for these sycophants, reacting to only what stimuli is placed before them by their media, clinging to their bitter antipathy against people that aren’t like them – their confirmation bias defining all outside their group by those easiest to hate, their wrath let loose in an artificially lit room instead of the dark difficult places of truth and frailties of the human condition, with no room for forgiveness or absolution.

Instead of protesting the disparate impact of the murder rate or inferior schools, they protest the past and defile the future and cling to infantile wrath as the only way to express their frustrations and proclaim their supremacy.

One day, there will be protests that “these” kids are educated, while “those” kids are not, and acceptance that “those” times are past, while “this” time is here, and changed, and the future abundantly changeable.

Then they will build new schools and sculpt new statues.

But not today, and not these people.

Mike Fulford

Evans

 

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