You hear so many crazy things these days. I don’t know how I would keep up if I hadn’t already predicted most of them. Recent suggestions for a better America include the mass expropriation of property from lighter-hued humans for transfer to those of a darker shade. (At last, the home of my dreams is within reach!) The allocation of seized properties would be carried out honestly and fairly of course by a cadre of Super Humans who are above politics, greed and personal skin color, although all of them must be Democrats. In today’s America and elsewhere in our world, but only in progressive places, real-life whites not only wish themselves into blackhood, but are hired by (I am taking this on pure faith) genuine blacks to head the latter’s skin-based organizations. In today’s America, thousands and thousands of people from what used to be a bastion of learning (go Sox!) march militantly to silence Free Speech. They no doubt toast with chilled chardonnay afterwards, throwing their nasty little pink caps in the air like a psychotic Mary Tyler Moore fan club, smug in their day’s work of crushing the Constitution beneath their hob-nailed sandals.
Now we are debating whether or not we should rewrite parts of US history that are so shameful, so they say, that they should not be allowed to exist. Today that category of non-things and non-persons includes anybody who fought for states’ rights in the War against the North, anybody who owned a slave prior to the Civil War, or lived with a slave as husband or wife without openly marrying them and setting a good example — people like Thomas Jefferson, who treated his woman Sally with a dignity and stature unheard of in that time, a man who educated his half-African children. It means defacing and destroying and disappearing stupid statues whose names are covered in pigeon shit. (Reminds me of a sixth grade field trip to DC, sitting in a park, eating my bologna sandwich and looking at a statue of someone who was no doubt a war criminal of some kind, when a pigeon shat upon my hair. I try not to blame the statue, and these anti-statuary freaks would be well advised to do likewise.)
But what will be forbidden tomorrow? Perhaps whole classes of deplorable people you used to think of as ordinary Americans will be shipped off to reeducation camps, or invited to step onto the glorious Pathway, as invented by British socialists. And when will we start airbrushing out unpleasant presidents who weren’t someone you’d invite home to meet the parents? Taft was so faaat, ugh. Or candidates who were a Big Fat Zero? (Here’s to you, Hillary!) By eliminating outmoded and/or offensive aspects of our history, that fabled tale could then be rewritten by those whom I and others call “Gen Zero.”
One of my favorite concepts to be spawned from the vacuous minds of the left is that of the “safe space.” When I was a junior officer in the Foreign Service in Jamaica we had safe spaces that were closed off by rape gates. The gates gave you time to call in the troops before dying at the hands of home invaders armed with automatic weapons. But this new idea is galaxies and light years ahead of that simple idea. These safe spaces began their existence as proposals for the timid, if militant, Deviant Sexualists that have been churned out by our schools. In their “safe spaces” you were forbidden to be mean or refer to any deficits in the safe person’s psyche or body or dating partners. No fat jokes or sissy jokes. You were increasingly expected not just to tolerate but even be a proponent of sexual deviancy at risk of bursting through the safe walls of all the safe bubbles in which the sensitive oddities were living. Now, of course, that seed of compassion has expanded (no weight pun intended!) to include anything that upsets anybody about anybody or anything else. Entering or violating the safe space by the offensive is a crime punishable immediately by the use of violence.
I’m sure you can see the problem with the concept of “safe spaces,” that being where does yours end and mine begin? If I feel happy in my safe space spouting out things you hate to hear, does that impinge on your happiness over there in your safe space? Does that mean you can pull a gun on me? Or set me alight with a make-shift molotov cocktail made out of a can of hairspray?
And what would my own safe space look like? If I gave into my more nasty and brutish side, I’d prohibit anything other than hate speech directed at Hillary Clinton, anybody in the Democrat Party, James Comey, Robert Mueller, all left-wing Hollywood blowhards, and also, and especially, Harry Reid and John McCain. I would only allow specific news outlets into my air space, which means no “mainstream media” (and that’s a good one). It probably doesn’t mean Fox News anymore, not since the Murdoch purges began. In my own safe space, there would be no entertainment beamed into my home filled with nudity, bestiality, and stupidity. Children’s cartoons would make them laugh, not serve up propaganda that makes them cry and worry about all the latest issues. No sex education pornography would intrude on young minds. No illegal immigrants would dare march or wave a foreign flag demanding the US do this or that. No novels could be written within five years of a major event concerning said event. Similarly, no movies could be made. All movies would require an actual plot and real actors. No more reality tv. No students who don’t study, no intellectuals who think comic books are philosophy. No politicized civil servants; no angry feminists; nobody who isn’t exactly sure of his or her gender.
But then I think, what would that make me if not just what those creeps I despise are? Narrow-minded, intolerant, and ignorant of our rights and obligations under the Constitution. So I think that my safe space would be a nation where schools were non-partisan and education was for learning and exploring and debating ideas. It would be a place where kids were almost always free from menace from their elders in their homes and in their neighborhoods, and where parents try to instill eternal values, like honesty and decency, not cultural myths. People could debate, without the use of obscenities or name-calling, or even with it, but without resorting to or threatening violence. A place where everybody knows that sometimes you win, and sometimes you lose. And that the two things aren’t the same.
In fact, my safe space looks exactly like the America I grew up in. Too bad today’s youth don’t know how that was.