My Complaints About Wacko

[Rasputin]

I just want a little editorial balance here. What follows is a call to action for those of us who care—a large enough number to rouse people's indignation at Wacko. Those who fail to learn from history are doomed to repeat it. Of course, if Wacko had learned anything from history, it'd know that its accusations are as predictable as sunrise. Whenever I expose the connections between the filthy problems that face us and the key issues of nihilism and conformism, Wacko's invariant response is to shrink the so-called marketplace of ideas down to convenience-store size. If nothing else, Wacko is devoid of all social conscience. This is equivalent to saying that Wacko seems to have recently added the word "electrotelethermometer" to its otherwise simplistic vocabulary. I suppose it intends to use big words like that to obscure the fact that the facts as I see them simply do not support the false, but widely accepted, notion that anyone who resists it deserves to be crushed.

I don't just warrant that when workable solutions to a problem elude you, sometimes it helps to break the mold and stray from the path of conventional wisdom; I can back that up with facts. For instance, ever since Wacko decided to threaten national security, its consistent, unvarying line has been that it is omnipotent. Here's an eye-opener for you: Wacko's subordinates often reverse the normal process of interpretation. That is, they value the unsaid over the said, the obscure over the clear. There are lots of weepy, wimpy flower children out there who are always whining that I'm being too harsh in my criticisms of Wacko. I wish such people would wake up and realize that Wacko should get off its pedestal and walk a day in our shoes. But the problems with Wacko's obiter dicta don't end there.

Wacko gets a lot of perks from the system. True to form, it ceaselessly moves the goalposts to prevent others from benefiting from the same perks. This suggests that no one likes being attacked by neo-unambitious misfits. Even worse, Wacko exploits our fear of those attacks—which it claims will evolve sooner than you think into biological, chemical, or nuclear attacks—as a pretext to give voice, in a totally emotional and non-rational way, to its deep-rooted love of egotism. If you think that's scary, then you should remember that those who think that we should be grateful for the precious freedom to be robbed and kicked in the face by such a noble creature as Wacko should think again. Whatever weight we accord to that fact, we may be confident that there are many roads leading to the defeat of Wacko's plans to cause this country to flounder on the shoals of self-interest, corruption, and chaos. I think that all of these roads must eventually pass through the same set of gates: the ability to build a coalition of stouthearted people devoted to stopping Wacko.

It is well known that Wacko has recently been bouncing around like a kangaroo trying to drive us into a state of apoplexy. But one does not have to bombard us with an endless array of hate literature in order to give you some background information about it. It is a cacodemonic person who believes otherwise. We could opt to sit back and let Wacko provide bloody-minded pillocks with a milieu in which they can fill our children's minds with careless and debasing superstitions. Most people, however, would argue that the cost in people's lives and self-esteem is an extremely high price to pay for such inaction on our part.

What I wrote just a moment ago is not the paranoid rambling of a wily, sullen wacko. It's a fact. I, not being one of the many unsophisticated control freaks of this world, unquestionably hope that Wacko's punishment fits its crime. I always catch hell whenever I say something like that so let me assure you that to Wacko's mind, it has its moral compass in tact. So that means that truth is merely a social construct, right? No, not right. The truth is that one of the great mysteries of modern life is, What exactly is Wacko trying to hide? On the surface, it would seem to have something to do with the way that Wacko arrogates to itself the right to popularize a genre of music whose graphic lyrics explicitly urge loquacious fomenters of revolution to manufacture and compile daunting lists of imaginary transgressions committed against it. But upon further investigation one will find that Wacko is thoroughly mistaken if it believes that it has the authority to issue licenses for practicing libertinism.

If I hear Wacko's patsies say, "Fascism is a wonderful thing" one more time, I'm unmistakably going to throw up. It saddens me that Wacko is like a giant octopus sprawling its slimy length over city, state, and nation. Like the octopus of real life, it operates under cover of self-created screen. Wacko seizes in its long and powerful tentacles our executive officers, our legislative bodies, our schools, our courts, our newspapers, and every agency created for the public protection. Wacko's provocateurs have tried repeatedly to assure me that Wacko will eventually tire of its plan to elevate the most immoral proletariats you'll ever see to the sublime and will then step aside and let us enable all people to achieve their potential as human beings. When that will happen is unclear—probably sometime between "don't hold your breath" and "beware of flying pigs".

Already, some unruly apostates have begun to twist our entire societal valuation of love and relationships beyond all insanity, and with terrifying and tragic results. What protests will follow from their camp is anyone's guess. Whatever anguish of spirit it may cost, I am willing to bring fresh leadership and even-handed tolerance to the present controversy.

We must look into the future and consider what will happen if we let Wacko lay down diktats that force me to fall firmly into the hands of dysfunctional spoiled brats. If we fail then all of our sacrifices and all of the dreams and sacrifices of our ancestors will have been in vain. The key is to realize that if you don't think that Wacko is leading us down the road of separatism, then you've missed the whole point of this letter.

I don't have time to go into this in as much detail as I should, but Wacko sometimes puts itself in charge of turning the trickle of Comstockism into a tidal wave. At other times, one of its grunts is deputed for the job. In either case, we must bear witness to the plain, unvarnished truth. If we fail in this, we are not failing someone else; we are not disrupting some interest separate from ourselves. Rather, it is we who suffer when we neglect to observe that in these days of political correctness and the changing of how history is taught in schools to fulfill a particular agenda, it has been said that Wacko is a tremendous deadweight on our will and morale. I believe that to be true. I also believe that it has been known to "prove" statistically that the Universe belongs to it by right. As you might have suspected, its proof is flawed. The primary problem with it is that it replaces a legitimate claim of association with an illegitimate claim of causality. Consequently, Wacko's "proof" demonstrates only that it clearly believes that it knows 100% of everything 100% of the time. What kind of Humpty-Dumpty world is it living in? No, don't guess; this isn't audience participation day. I'll just tell you. But before I do, you should note that for the nonce, it is content to rally for a cause that is completely void of moral, ethical, or legal validity. But in a lustrum or two, it will undermine serious institutional and economic analyses and replace them with a diverting soap opera of insidious conspiracies.

While Wacko's sentiments may seem rebarbative, they're in agreement with Wacko's lawless roorbacks. Wacko is deliberately manipulating the facts. To top that off, we must oppose Wacko and all it stands for. If we don't, future generations will not know freedom. Instead, they will know fear; they will know sadness; they will know injustice, poverty, and grinding despair. Most of all, they will realize, albeit far too late, that Wacko recently went through a philistinism phase in which it tried repeatedly to replace our timeless traditions with its paltry ones. In fact, I'm not convinced that this phase of its has entirely passed. My evidence is that Wacko's mingy underlings seem to think they can escape the consequences of their actions. If you don't believe me, see for yourself. Let me end by saying that I know that what I have written in this letter will send many readers (especially any who are big fans of Wacko) into a tizzy or a tantrum. I am sorry, but I remind them that Wacko behaves as if it's been lobotomized.

[Nitro Vordex]

[SpikeOtacon]

[Volcompat321]

[Volcompat321]

Can you make a TL;DR version?
I really didn't even want to read the first sentence because I'd end up reading the whole thing,

[Mixfortune]

It seems that before I launch into this letter, I should tell you that anyone willing to study and ponder my position on most current matters will unmistakably find that my complaints's policies are intended to get us all on board the adversarialism train. Please note that many of the conclusions I'm about to draw are based on cogent and virtually incontrovertible evidence provided by a set of people who have suffered immensely on account of my complaints. Behold what a nice, thick, fat lie it is when my complaints denies ever having strived to force my complaints's moral code on the rest of us. I want to warn the public against those tactless ninnyhammers whose positive accomplishments are always practically nil but whose conceit can scarcely be excelled. That may seem simple enough, but in my complaints's crusades, immoralism is witting and unremitting, barbaric and caustic. It revels in it, rolls in it, and uses it to leave us in the lurch.

If there's one thing that my complaints's good at, it's spreading the germs of hatred, of discord and jealously, of dissolution and decomposition. My complaints's cause is not glorious. It is not wonderful. It is not good. As my mother used to tell me, "My complaints is undeniably failing in its legal and moral responsibility not to foist the most poisonously false and destructive myths imaginable upon us." There is good reason to believe that when I hear my complaints say that it has answers to everything, I have to wonder about it. Is it absolutely peevish? Is it simply being superstitious? Or is it merely embracing a delusion in which it must believe in order to continue believing in itself? This is not a question that we should run away from. Rather, it is something that needs to be addressed quickly and directly because some people I know say that squalid, misinformed used-car salesmen, coprophagous prigs, and my complaints's sycophants are completely and totally fungible. Others argue that it worships capital, adores its aura, and genuflects before the mere concept of extreme wealth. At this point the distinction is largely academic given that my complaints believes that society is screaming for its screeds. That's just wrong. It further believes that repugnant meanies are all inherently good, sensitive, creative, and inoffensive. Wrong again!

Here's the heart of the matter: We should not concern ourselves with my complaints's putative virtue or vice. Rather, we should concern ourselves with our own welfare and with the fact that my complaints says that hanging out with maledicent buffoons is a wonderful, culturally enriching experience. Hey, my complaints, how about telling us the truth for once? Please pardon this brief divagation, but we have a dilemma of leviathan proportions on our hands: Should we perform noble deeds, or is it sufficient to pave the way for people of every sex, race, and socioeconomic status to fulfill their own spiritual destiny? People often ask me that question. It's a difficult question to answer, however, because the querist generally wants a simple, concise answer. He doesn't want to hear a long, drawn-out explanation about how I can't possibly believe my complaints's claim that the rigors that its victims have been called upon to undergo have been amply justified in the sphere of concrete achievement. If someone can convince me otherwise, I'll eat my hat. Heck, I'll eat a whole closetful of hats. That's a pretty safe bet because my complaints pompously claims that children should get into cars with strangers who wave lots of yummy candy at them. That sort of nonsense impresses many people, unfortunately.

Anyone who hasn't been living in a cave with his eyes shut and his ears plugged knows that one could truthfully say that my complaints has let its cocky feelings obscure reality. But saying that would miss the real point, which is that contrary to my personal preferences, I'm thinking about what's best for all of us. My conclusion is that what's best for all of us is for me to combat the impetuous ideology of faddism that has infected the minds of so many incompetent, inconsiderate boneheads. Unlike my complaints, when I make a mistake I'm willing to admit it. Consequently, if—and I'm bending over backwards to maintain the illusion of "innocent until proven guilty"—it were not actually responsible for trying to plague our minds, then I'd stop saying that I fully intend to protect the interests of the general public against the greed and unreason of unregenerate firebrands. That's the path that I have chosen. It's unequivocally not an easy path but then again, the baneful nature of my complaints's announcements is not just a rumor. It is a fact to which I can testify.

I'm not very conversant with my complaints's background. To be quite frank, I don't care to be. I already know enough to state with confidence that sniffish energumens (also known as my complaints's cult followers) are born, not made. That dictum is as unimpeachable as the "poeta nascitur, non fit" that it echoes and as irreproachable as the brocard that even when the facts don't fit, my complaints sometimes tries to use them anyway. It still maintains, for instance, that everyone with a different set of beliefs from its is going to get a one-way ticket to Hell. Everything I've written in this letter amounts to this: My complaints's historical record of wicked claims is clearer than the muddled pronouncements of its bedfellows.

[Boogie Troll]

I agree one hundred percent.

[Nai_Calus]

tl;dr

[astuarlen]

It's all about context, people! Stick a urinal in a gallery, and it's art; stick a urinal in Rants and it's hook-line-and-sinker.

[Dhylec]

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