Note: This article is also available in Spanish.
The first time I read one of Paul’s articles I cringed. Fuck, did I cringe.
In fact I submitted work at A Voice For Men in spite of Paul’s participation and because the site is billed as a place where people interested in compassion for men and boys can be heard. I submitted work because Paul has said, repeatedly, that he wants these voices to be heard, not just voices that agree with him or his own voice, but all voices who sing in the “we care about men” chorus.
Over time I got to know Paul. I realized that he is blunt; he is crude. His articles are, well, rather razor sharp and deliberately offensive.
But Paul’s articles are also like a magic eye.
If you focus on imagining that men deserve to be cared about and then re-read his articles, out of all the offensive language a bland, bald truth—and it is bland—reveals itself.
The article on Andrea Dworkin’s rape obsession becomes:
Bigots who are fixated on the violent sexuality of the group they’re targeting, may just have prurient sexual motives themselves.
To illustrate I’ll use an example that’s less charged with moral outrage.
The KKK are also obsessed with the violent sexuality of a target group. To the point where one really must ask “do doth protest too much about gigantic black cocks invading pert lily-white orifices?”
The article on “women begging for it” becomes:
Sexually abusive people who engage in abusive behavior invite aggression back. They do not deserve it; they invite it.
To illustrate I’ll again use an example that’s less charged with moral outrage.
Let’s imagine we have a very popular boy in high school and this very popular jock has a habit of asking unpopular girls to dances and then—as these outcasts are at just at the threshold of getting to be seen in public with the most popular boy in school, trembling with excitement at the thought of sharing their first dance—this jock says “fuck no, why did you ever think I’d be seen in public with you?”
This is taunting.
Now for those who balk at drawing a parallel between the popular high school jock taunting unpopular boys and women taunting men sexually… consider that sexuality is almost always more about social approval and acceptance than pure nerve ending stimulation.
When a woman taunts a man sexually, she’s taunting him with social acceptance. Just like the jock taunting the unpopular girl with social acceptance.
Now if that unpopular girl punches the jock, how do we feel? How about if she pulls out a knife and rapes him?
I’m sure we all agree that the smug asshole jock didn’t deserve to be raped; but he sure was inviting it and by taunting enough unpopular girls, he’d eventually find one that wasn’t going to just walk home and cry herself to sleep. He’d eventually find himself a psycho.
The only difference between these two scenarios is how much you care about the people being taunted and the people doing the taunting.
Again, magic eye. Focus on the idea that men deserve to be cared about, and the intent becomes clear.
Paul’s articles are also a red flag for people who are going around trying to find things to be offended about. They will find offense aplenty in his articles, not because what his articles are actually saying is anything but bland and inoffensive, but because these people are in the business of manufacturing offense.
Not just manufacturing it, cooking offense up in a metal spoon and injecting it right into the vein.
Paul has created the perfect formula: insert enough offense that the druggies are attracted to it like flies to shit—they’ll spread it faster than a gram of heroin—and enough reason that might spark those still capable of critical thought to say “hm, he’s a fucking asshole, but he has a point. Or might have a point.”
But here’s where you come in Mr. or Ms. Keeper-of-the-Middle-Ground, if these offense-junkies weren’t targeting Paul for their hit, they’d be targeting you.
Yes, you. Mr. or Ms. Keeper-of-the-Middle-Ground.
Have you noticed the pattern yet? The Social Justice Crack House Squad descends on a hapless person; sometimes making their life miserable for saying the word “bitch” or having a supposedly “objectifying” webcomic; or using the word “dongle”; or doing, saying or being anything the Squad doesn’t approve of.
The Social Justice Crack House Squad then proceeds to destroy their target’s life in pursuit of their hit of self-righteousness.
It’s not about reason or logic or “making the world safe for kitties and puppies”, it’s not even about hate, it’s about the hit. It’s about the outrage and the addict’s unending hunger for it. The Social Justice Crack House Squad has a craving that’ll never get fed. Which means when they drink and drug their way through your neighbours, they’re coming for you.
Yes, you. Mr. or Ms. Keeper-of-the-Middle-Ground.
To be honest, you can ether turtle up against these marauding druggies or you can be their next victim, or you can join the chorus against them. Because these people will not stop until the whole world smells of vomit, feces, open sores, sweaty, unwashed bodies and the sweet-sour stench of burnt out smug superiority.
Our moral landscape is being dictated by drug addicts and the cure is critical thinking.
That’s why we say Fuck Their Shit Up. Those that freebase outrage will spred the drug far and wide; those capable of critical thinking and good faith will say “hmm, two meanings and everyone on the ship says it’s the non-violent one and they’ll make anyone who engages in violence walk the (proverbial, hypothetical, metaphorical) plank.”
If you get it, come aboard. And bring your good faith arguments! Bring your unfashionable opinions! Bring your sanity! Bring your willingness to engage rationally! Bring your critical thought!
And welcome to the good ship, the SS-FTSU01. Meet Paul, your crusty naval Captain; JTO, your salty sea dog of a Chief Mate; Dean, the Boatswain; Girl Writes What, wench-at-arms; Dr. T, head-shrinker and surgeon; Susan, Chief Steward and sammichmaker; Dr. F, Master of Ceremonies; Danny, Crowsnest; Communication Chief Robert; James, Engineer; and Jared, Gunner; Erin Pizzey, the obligatory cool old lady.
And myself, Navigator.
Now let’s go forth and Fuck Their Shit Up.
