A Middle Of The Night Facebook Post About Offense Taken or Not Taken

Investigations Personal


5:20 am

My feeling is, Political Correctness is a seemingly never ending assault of dirty glass shards thrown at people, and the whole thing is rigged from the get go, so that you can never get them all out. But you do try.

Well, I do.

I try to be less UN PC.  The prayer is, more or less: “God, help me be indignant the way I would be if I were good, instead of bad.”

Indignation is the building material to identity–it is how and what with, you put yourself together. “Take offense, citizen!”

Donald Trump is like Lego For The People Building Themselves As Good. By hating him.  All he has to do is speak.

PC is such a clarifying medium.

TWO types of people exist. Those who do not detest PC, think it’s “important,” and those who do, think it’s Satan’s work; I am firmly the latter.

What I hate most about PC is the willful destruction of reality. The craze for hygiene of the mind and word. The destruction of the scientific method, of course. Of journalism, of course. And the destruction of the intuitive, erotic order between men and women.

Still, in recent years, I fond myself always trying to become a bit more PC so I could recover from all the brain injuries caused by not being PC in the golden age of PC tyranny.  They really beat you up, especially if you are correct. (Not politically, but actually.) I think those days are over, and the playing field is becoming more leveled.

Last night a mesmerizing interview with “dangerous faggot” as he calls himself, Milo Yiannopoulos, made me laugh so much while making dinner that by the time Ake came home I was in agreement that men have higher IQs, not when measured en masse but in the “Mozart” sense.
Yiannopoulos calls Trump “Daddy.”

I think he’s hilarious. He was born in Greece and dyes his hair platinum because he knows he looks better with dark hair. He said God made him a homosexual so he could attack feminism. He took polls of people asking of they preferred feminism or cancer, and cancer won. Even by survivors.



So, I live with a man.

You should see the way he just BUILDS things around here. He sees an empty space and next thing you know it’s an outdoor deck, or a closet. I could never do what he does. I want to know what it is that makes me not that, but something else. See how I can’t even type the W word?

Is it that I light welcome home candles in the window when I know he is walking home from the ferry, around 6:40 pm?

Listening to the interview (between two conservative gay comedians, one of then Canadian!) I became aware of all these built in defenses about what I “am,” and felt free as a dolphin suddenly embracing the idea of how my brain is not male, let’s just say. I keep wanting to call myself “stupid,” because that would be the true liberation from the whole nightmare. The PC feminist nightmare in which I am expected to demand being validated by society yet can’t ever be.

(The whole deal is off, of course, if you provoke Pharma-Dragon.)

If I said I just want to be WHATEVER God made me to be, you’d say I’d lost my mind out here in the archipelago. Ah! what a great phrase. Can you imagine women wanting to “lose” their minds rather than partake in this grisly never ending battle about intelligence? I would say, instead: “I’m in a reverie. You’d never interrupt a woman in a reverie would you?”

I love to cook. Been cooking since I was 11. I have even begun to love to clean, once I get started.

Milo said it was not at all difficult to be a homosexual, (“I don’t think I’ve ever met a homophobe…”) He said it was WAY harder to come out as a conservative, but coming out as a Trekkie….THAT took guts.

Over candlelit dinner last night, I explained to Ake about the rise of the uber-mensch cult, in the US, around the time of Steve Jobs. Guys like him.  How it all used to horrify me, and I felt they were trying to build a woman free world, like they speak of a disease free world, all these glassy eyed young philanthropic billionaires.

“A world without women?” Ake said.

Though it was dark I could see he had true pain on his face.

“That would be no world at all.”

–Celia Farber,

Runmaro, Nov 2, 2016

15 thoughts on “A Middle Of The Night Facebook Post About Offense Taken or Not Taken”

  1. I’d say you are finding/discovering your mind out there in the archipelago.

    I’m wishing you increase in reverie, and advancement in the loss of every “clarifying medium”:

    Magnificent individuation, and merciful reverencing of “WHATEVER God made [you] to be.”


  2. I’ve thrown in my lot with a culture that has never even heard of PC. Jamaica. I seem to be the only white person for miles around and everybody treats me with kindness. The culture is a relief after living so long in places where the men never get laid. In a place like Pakistan, or even India, I was constantly harassed in the street by men who seemed to want to rape me. (Though oddly, in Afganistan, which must be the most conservative Muslim country in the world, I was always treated with respect.) in Jamaica, the men call out compliments , like “Pretty lady!” Or once to my partner, “Hey Rastaman, that is a nice woman you have there. You take care of her!” Granted, I am in the honeymoon stage, but so far, I like it a lot. Pourvu que ca dure!

  3. Brilliant. Love the way you expose your inner self – strip down to the bare essentials – and offer up poetry. Adore you for being so brave.

  4. Oh, dear. “his” first breakfast. The spelling feature is abominable. I’m going to turn it off, former spelling second-placer that I am (first place is now a neurosurgeon).

    1. Gary,

      I made the correction. Thank you as ever for all the great energy, insight, friendship and creativity you bring to this site, always. As a fellow cat owner and lover, I smiled at “his first breakfast.” Jack likes to take his “first” breakfast around 4 am…which he signals by knocking some object or other off the kitchen table. Works perfectly.

      1. Celia: Freddie used to signal his desire to go out that early by knocking everything off the nightstand, but I’ve gotten him trained to mostly wait until five a.m. I began the training by cuddling him in an immobile state. As the days passed he came to like this, and would always start purring when I did it (inscrutable they are). Now they both wait until I’m ready to get up, usually at five. This morning it was his brother, Tiberius, who drove me crazy; this is his signal for food, incessant walking in between me and the computer and rubbing repeatedly in the face area. When I write, I don’t like to be disturbed. Glad to know your cats are fine!

  5. Celia: I must add that you’ve made my day! The cat nearly thwarted my typing of the previous post, but I won through, and he’s gone to have his first nap after his first breakfast (we just woke from a full night’s sleep).

  6. Celia: Fine piece. Becoming what we are, fully realizing what we can be, is a delicious, fraught, exhilarating journey. To hell with all -isms. I love to cook, too. My mother was amenable to teaching me all that I showed interest in. I also love to make stuff, particularly of wood. I’m voting for Trump, by the way, as awful as he is, because he is the only one who is on our (the antivax) side. And the only one who will throw a monkey wrench, or sabot, if he has one, into the juggernaut of globalism.

  7. Brilliant. Great article. So good.

    “Indignation is the building material to identity–it is how and what with, you put yourself together. “Take offense, citizen!”

    I think one of the hidden dangers of PC is that the indignation becomes so prevalent that it looses it’s ability to command attention, or it becomes the subject of sarcastic ridicule, even by those who agree with it’s reasoning.

    In a sense and over time it leads to a de facto silence, not a wise listening silence, nor one based on PC rules, but rather a silence standing on the shoulders of exasperation.

    1. Well stated SE. Check this out. Two angry wonderful Canadians sent this to me about the thinker Gaad Saad.. One wonderful angered Canuck is a social researcher by name of Norma Jean Le Febvre.

      Last night interesting to note, Trump’s messages last night ceased from naming Hilary. These are interesting times as we all watch like hawks of peace.


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