Advertisements

Monthly Archives: August, 2015

The Cool Kids’ Table

I’ve never sat at it.

When I was a kid in the old USSR, there was nothing “cool” about me. I was kind of scrawny, shy, and I had that damn Jewish last name, so teachers and other students in Soviet schools shunned me as a Jew, ensuring I never got to engage in activities with the other kids. Yeah… I was that lonely kid you saw on a swing by herself in kindergarten while all the other kids were building huge forts and playing team games.

Yes, that's a Soviet birth certificate, and yes, that's the word

Yes, that’s my real Soviet birth certificate, and yes, that’s the word “Jew” I’ve circled. And yes, it followed you everywhere.

My last name in Russian sounds like the Russian word for “hockey puck,” so guess what my fellow students called me back then! They also beat me around quite a bit – much like a hockey puck. I was a Jew after all, so beating up on me became pretty much sport.

When I came to the United States, I was definitely not a cool kid. My parents didn’t have much money – well… really hardly any at all – so I would wear the same clothes every day, which didn’t endear me to my fellow students. They never bought sweets, or junk food, or sodas. I never got ice cream. We didn’t have money for such frivolities. I tasted cereal for the first time in my life when I was nine years old, and it seemed like an amazing treat at the time! What furniture we did have was procured from other people’s trash. So was our TV – a tiny little black and white thing that my dad fixed up, so he could watch the news and learn English. So kids from the neighborhood didn’t come visit. I had no friends. Add to that the fact that they thought I was Russian (despite the fact that I tried to convince them I was French) at the height of the Cold War made me not so popular.

When I was older, I went to summer camp. People weren’t mean to me, but I certainly was not one of the cool kids. I didn’t have many friends. I was generally left behind when my bunk mates got together to play games or go swimming. I spent a lot of time by myself, reading, writing letters to my parents, or walking through the wooded areas of the campground. I had learned sufficient English by then, but I was a bit introverted, and I preferred to spend time by myself.

I was never invited to cool kid parties in middle school – you know those parties where everyone plays “spin the bottle” and hooks up with members of the opposite sex. I did go to some, but I felt awkward and weird, and when I invited kids in my class to my own birthday party, one person showed up, and embarrassed, I never wanted another party.

I did find my voice, so to speak, in high school choir. I participated in concerts and plays. I loved the stage. But ultimately, we were choir and theater geeks, and my husband likes to remind me that I was the type of kid he would have beaten up in high school. I wasn’t a cheerleader. I didn’t play sports. I was a music geek, and I was expected to and did hang out with my own kind.

Frankly, I like it that way.

I don’t care about being popular, or cool, or well liked. I have never chosen the easy or popular path. That’s never interested me. So when time came for a decision about whether or not to support the Sad Puppies, it was easy, and the way the cliquish “cool kids” acted at this year’s Hugo Awards ceremony cemented that choice.

Larry Correia started the Sad Puppy campaign in hopes that the Hugo Awards would become a bigger, more inclusive tent that rewarded good storytelling regardless of politics, personal views, or religion. What culminated in the awards ceremony this year was snark, arrogance, downright cruelty, and slaps in the face to many deserving, well-regarded, talented authors and editors.

There were personal attacks – racist attacks, in fact against a kind, generous, talented man. There were false accusations of racism against some of the kindest, most generous people I know by people who are their peers. Arrogant racists, who claim moral superiority, because they feel entitled to abuse anyone who is white or male and has the temerity to not feel guilty about it, see it fit to impugn the intelligence and soul of one of the brightest, kindest women I’ve had the pleasure of knowing.

This is, of course, the same Cuntasaurus Rex who issued a racist reading challenge to all its drooling, frothing acolytes to stop reading anything written by straight, white, cis male authors for one year. The same wackjob SJW who, by her own admission, couldn’t get through anything written by those evil white oppressors, and would get all ragey and quit reading, because PRIVILEGE! Or something…  has the temerity to impugn the Mensa-level intelligence of Sarah Hoyt – a successful, Latina female author, whose talent and wit Tempest, who admits to have mooched off her rich friends for a while after leaving her oh-so-privileged New York existence, couldn’t even begin to match!

But hey… Tempest is one of the cool kids, right?

Yeah, if that daft bint is at the cool kids table, pardon me while I eat with the nerds!

No, the Sad Puppies will never be at the cool kids table. They will always be the nerds – old fashioned, dedicated to actual talent, strength of writing, storytelling, and love of the craft. They will never be the progtards who worry more about the color of the author’s skin, the political leanings of the writer, the pronoun he or she (YES, I’M USING THE BINARY, YOU MICROAGGRESSED ASSHOLES! DEAL WITH IT) prefers, or the sexual orientation the author happens to be. The Sad Puppies will always choose talent and hard work over pronouns, race, and gender. And that makes them not cool in the eyes of the establishment science fiction and fantasy community.

Not cool. Not progressive. And therefore, intentionally left out in the cold – just like that five-year-old Jewish kid on the swing, sitting alone while all the others built forts.

Well, that’s OK. These are the people I prefer to associate with anyway. Because I love literature. Because I love art. Because I love integrity and honesty. Because I admire talent, intelligence, and dedication to one’s art. And because I think that’s what the Hugo Awards should be about – innovation, imagination, and ingenuity. And I’ll take those a thousand times over the racism of K. Tempest Bradford, the ignorance of Arthur Chu, the disdainful conceit of David Gerrold, the disingenuousness of George R.R. Martin, and the stubborn, arrogant, defamatory libel of Mary Robinette Kowal.

They can have the cool kids’ table. I’m proud to stand with the Sad Puppies. Again.

Advertisements

No, Cupcake, there is no right not to be offended!

I swear… our society has become this bizarre caricature of itself, where everyone is searching for something to be outraged about, anything that will allow them to whine and claim racism… or offense… or microaggression… or some other perceived offense.

Microaggression.

If you don’t know what that is, UCLA will help you out.

Microaggressions are the everyday verbal, nonverbal, and environmental slights, snubs, or insults, whether intentional or unintentional, that communicate hostile, derogatory, or negative messages to target persons based solely upon their marginalized group membership.

If you’re scratching your head, thinking, “What. The. Fuck,” you’re not alone.  But apparently, asking someone where they’re from, believing that the “most qualified person should get the job,” or maintaining that “America is the land of opportunity,” is a slight against… well… someone. Do yourselves a favor and read that entire thing. Yes, your eyes will start to bleed from the sheer volume of stupid, but you will understand what you’re up against.

Then there are the trigger warnings. Those of you who don’t know what those are, get ready… you’re going to puke in your own mouth at the absolute ridiculous entitlement of the precious snowflakes that are taking over our society! These are apparently admonitions to sensitive punkins that they might find your statements offensive or outrageous in some way. That way, these snowflakes can find a safe place to decompress from the stress and pressure of reading something that might expose  their fragile sensibilities to something that challenges their worldview!

Everything is racism.

Anything you say is a microaggression as long as the person to whom you say it is offended by it.

And if you disagree, if you argue, well then you’re part of the problem. Because everything is racist, offensive, and outrageous! The fact that you don’t recognize this subjective, nebulous weirdness, makes you part of the problem.

The perpetually offended want to wrap themselves in metaphorical bubble wrap to ensure that no offense, no bad word, no insult – perceived or otherwise – grinds sand into their delicate vulvas. And they take it as a given that you must conform to their standards – protect them, spoil them, shield them from all possible indelicacies – or else… Or else what? Or else, they snap. Oh, you think I’m kidding?

The words are a part of everyday conversation — “swinging” by an address and going out in the “field.” But in the twisted mind of Virginia gunman Vester Lee Flanagan II, they were pure racism — and saying them became a death sentence for Alison Parker. The 24-year-old white reporter, who was murdered on live TV along with her cameraman, used the phrases as an intern at ­WDBJ TV in Roanoke in 2012, according to an internal complaint filed by Flanagan, who was black. “One was something about ‘swinging’ by some place; the other was out in the ‘field,’ ” said the Jan. 21 report by assistant news director Greg Baldwin, which refers to Parker as Alison Bailey (her middle name).

Oh, you think that’s ridiculous? Here’s a tweet that appeared on author Mary Robinette Kowal’s Twitter feed. Yeah… the same Mary Robinette Kowal who thought (and I use that term loosely) that author Sarah Hoyt’s use of the word “Chicom” in a blog post was an “ethnic slur.” So much stupid in one accusation!

Let’s get something straight, Cupcakes: You. Do. Not. Have. The. Right. Not. To. Be. Offended.

Did I write that slowly enough for you?

YOU DO NOT HAVE THE RIGHT NOT TO BE OFFENDED.

Was that loud enough and emphatic enough for you?

I’m certainly a kind enough person, and I will make an effort to be polite to you, but Jesus Crossdressing Christ on a Moped! If you think I’m going to bend over backwards to ensure that your dainty labia aren’t bruised, you’re sadly mistaken.

Yes, I believe America is the land of opportunity. I come from a country where there is none – especially not for a scrawny Jewish kid, who got beaten up every day for her funny last name and the “Jew” stamped on her official Soviet papers. You disagree? You’re free to. You get offended by this assertion and demand I alter my views so that they won’t offend you? Fuck you.

Yes, I believe everyone should be rewarded based on merit. I believe everyone should have equal opportunities to succeed – not outcomes, but opportunities – and if you think you’re entitled to special privileges and find it offensive that I think you should compete fairly against everyone else, you can shove that offense up your ass.

No, I don’t care if you’re black, white, purple, yellow, polka dotted, or plaid. I will judge you by the content of your character, not the color of your skin, and if you think you’re entitled to special treatment because you happen to be a vibrant shade of green, you aren’t going to get it from me. I will treat you as the person you are, not as the amount of color and the shade your skin happens to be.

And if you look like this, yes I will think you are a freak, and no, I won’t apologize for it. You did this to yourself. You wanted the attention. Now you got it. Oh, it wasn’t the kind of attention you wanted? Too bad, Cupcake.

The fact that you’re offended obligates me to nothing. A right exists among every individual and does not diminish others’ rights when exercised. I have the right to speak, to think, to understand, to criticize, to judge, and to express myself as I see fit. Your pathetic attempts to limit or alter my right to do so is evidence that your butthurt is not a violation of your rights, but simply the mewling of a pathetic, frail sissy who hasn’t been taught how to exist in the real world.

What Your Reaction to My NRA Sticker Says About You

OK, so I don’t have an NRA sticker. Although I’m an ardent gun rights advocate, I am not an NRA member. The NRA and I never really got along all that well. But nonetheless, bear with me here, because I’m about to explain why the NRA sticker says much more about the metrosexual douche pickle who wrote this column than it does about anyone who has that sticker on their vehicle.

I see that NRA decal on the rear window of your car and my eyes narrow. I look at the back of your head in the driver’s seat and I wonder if you are a threat.

A threat to my children. A threat to me. A threat to society.

I see you quivering in your panties about a sticker, and I snicker just a bit. I look at you and I wonder if you ever had any courage, any integrity, and any understanding of the laws and principles on which this nation was founded. And I wonder if you’re a threat.

A threat to my freedoms. A threat to my way of life. A threat to the Constitution.

I see a news report about the latest shooting deaths in the United States. I brace myself for the NRA talking points on social media.

I see a news report about the latest shooting deaths in the United States. I brace myself for screeching politicians and panty shitters like you spreading the “common sense gun control” mantra without an understanding of what that means or the possible unintended consequences of its implementation.

I try not to read them. I fail at that. I am appalled and saddened and sickened and angry.

I always read them, because I need to ensure that I am able and willing to protect my life and the lives of my loved ones against unimaginable evil. I need to remind myself that it exists.

I am reminded why I consider you a potential threat.

I am reminded of why I consider you a sad, pathetic little coward.

To me, that NRA decal on the rear window of your car represents violent death.

To me, your reaction to that NRA decal on the rear window of my car represents gutlessness.

By displaying that NRA decal on the rear window of your car, you are endorsing violent death.

By cringing at that NRA decal, you are endorsing an abdication of your rights and responsibilities as a citizen and as a human being.

By endorsing violent death, you show me that you do not care about the tens of thousands of gun deaths in the United States every year.

By shirking your responsibility to protect yourself and your loved ones you show me that you don’t care how many crimes are stopped and how many lives are potentially saved with the responsible use of firearms.

You don’t care about the gun deaths at Columbine. You don’t care about the gun deaths at Virginia Tech. You don’t care about the gun deaths at Tucson. You don’t care about the gun deaths at Aurora. You don’t care about the gun death at a movie theater up the road from here in Wesley Chapel. You don’t care about the gun deaths at Sandy Hook Elementary in Newtown. You don’t care about the gun deaths at Emanuel AME Church in Charleston.

You don’t care about the gun deaths this morning at Bridgewater Plaza in Virginia.

You don’t care about the lives Jeanne Assam saved by shooting an armed madman at the New Life Church in Colorado Springs. You don’t care about the toddler who was saved by mom’s dispatching of an intruder breaking into her home. You don’t care about the 9-year-old twins whose lives were saved by their mother using a revolver. You don’t care about the countless lives of students that Joel Myrick saved by retrieving a gun from his car and stopping Luke Woodham at Pearl High School. You don’t care about the lives of the congregants at the Boiling Springs’ South Side Freewill Baptist Church that were saved by one man taking responsibility for the lives of others. You don’t care about the lives of innocent shoppers at Clackamas Mall that were saved after an armed citizen confronted a gunman. You don’t care about the construction workers whose lives were saved because one armed foreman stopped a disgruntled employee. You certainly don’t care about hospital workers, doctors, nurses, and patients whose lives were saved by one armed doctor after a mental patient marched in and started shooting. And we know you don’t give a rancid rat’s ass about the twins whose lives were saved by their teenage brother after intruders broke into their home.

That is what the NRA decal displayed in the rear window of your car tells me.

Is that fair?

Nope. It’s also not rational, but we don’t expect fairness, justice, and logic from quivering self-soilers who infer all this nonsense from a simple window sticker.

Is it just of me to conclude that you don’t care about the loss of human life because of the proliferation of guns in the U.S., simply because you choose to display an NRA decal in the rear window of your car?

Maybe not. Yet, how am I to know that you are not the next “good guy with a gun” to snap?

Here’s a clue, dimwit: The vast majority of NRA members are law-abiding citizens. But more than that, how do you know? You don’t. I don’t either. And while crimes of passion are relatively rare, since I don’t know, I’d rather be able to at least try to defend myself with an effective tool than cower, soil myself in fear, and hope the bad guy goes away. I’d rather have a fighting chance. But then again, I’m a responsible adult, not a sniveling coward.

How am I to know that something about the way I drive, or something about the way your day or life is going, or something imagined by you and unimaginable to me triggers the compulsion to shoot, and to kill?

If you really believe that you might be a trigger for someone’s violent road rage, wouldn’t you rather be able to defend yourself and potentially save your own life and those of your kids? Oh, wait… I forgot… Your mangina forbids such acts of masculine courage.

Because of that NRA decal in the rear window of your car, because I am the father of two beautiful boys who are growing up with a backdrop of rampant gun violence, the only responsible conclusion for me to draw is that you are armed – and dangerous. That you are a threat. That you could, if you chose, pull out your gun and shoot me or my children without a thought or even provocation.

Because of your whimpering reaction to my NRA decal, and because I’m the mother of two beautiful, responsible children, one of whom is a U.S. Marine, while the other is an ROTC student at UNC Charlotte, and both of whom were able to responsibly use firearms under adult supervision, and later on their own, since they were tiny tots, the only logical conclusion for me to draw is that you are a coward, who is an easy victim for armed thugs, who doesn’t care enough about the lives of those beautiful boys to take steps to responsibly defend them.

Maybe that is not fair. Maybe you are a gentle, kind person who happens to enjoy shooting sports.

Maybe you are an ignorant and have no comprehension of what the Second Amendment is about.

Here is a fair conclusion, though: You care more about your “right” to own a gun than you care about my right to live without the fear that members of my family or my friends might be shot and killed at school, at the movies, in our car, on the job, in church … anywhere. Anywhere at all.

Here’s a fair conclusion, though: Your inclusion of the word “right” in quotation marks shows you have no concept of what a right actually is. You are incapable of comprehending that your “right” to live without fear does not obligate me or anyone else to stroke your pusillanimous fantasies and make you feel all comfy and cozy. You care about your imagined “right” to impose your cowardice and ignorance on millions of innocent people who happen to be gun owners. You are a selfish prick.

It is more important to you that the 300 million guns in the United States remain in the hands of their owners than it is for my children to grow up in a country where violent gun deaths are an anomaly, rather than the norm.

It’s more important to you to impose your arbitrary, subjective standards of “security” on others than recognize that others should have the ability to protect themselves without whining invertebrates such as you forcing them to conform to your gutless wankery.

You would rather risk more lives, thousands more, than take responsible action on gun control. In your world, there is an “acceptable” number of violent gun deaths.

You would rather see your fellow citizens defenseless at the nonexistent mercy of armed thugs than put on your big boy pants, man up, and support all law-abiding citizens’ right to defend themselves with the most effective tool on the market today.

I conclude that about you, because you choose to display that NRA decal in the rear window of your car.

I conclude that you’re a heartless, senseless, hysterical, walking mangina because you view your fellow Americans as threats merely by looking at a decal on their car window.

How does it feel to know that the father, the husband, the son, the friend, the writer in the car behind you is afraid of what you might do because of that NRA decal displayed in the rear window of your car?

It makes me feel sad for the state of our society that sniveling pussies like you exist, that you will likely raise your sons to be just as gutless and sad as you are, and that some poor woman chose to reproduce with you in the first place.

How does that feel to you?

Actually … never mind.

I don’t think I want to know.

You wrote that senseless dreck, so now you know.

Note: Apparently this sad little excuse for a gonad didn’t like the response he received from his fellow Americans, whom he frames as potential threats for absolutely no reason, so he shut the comments down for his blog. It’s typical. He apparently couldn’t respond in a mature, rational way, so rather than put in the effort, he simply decided to shut down others’ ability to respond to his drivel. Much like his response to an NRA label in someone’s window, this makes him a coward.

A Shooting in Virginia (UPDATED)

Cross posted at the Zelman Partisans.

There was a shooting in Virginia today. The shooter, a former WDBJ journalist pulled a gun on two of the station’s reporters and killed them both. He also wounded the woman being interviewed on the air. She is thankfully listed in stable condition. He then proceeded to drive north on I-81 and east on I-66 with police in pursuit before shooting himself in the head.

Before the bodies of 24-year-old reporter Alison Parker and 27-year-old cameraman Adam Ward were even cold, Virginia’s opportunistic swine of a governor Fast Terry McAuliffe started immediately calling for more gun control.

“There are too many guns in the hands of people that shouldn’t have guns,” McAuliffe said during an interview with WTOP. “There is too much gun violence in America,” he said, adding that he has long advocated for strengthening gun background checks and that it should be made a priority.

The only problem with Fast Terry’s contention is that no background check would have stopped Vester Lee Flanagan from purchasing a gun.

Let’s for a moment ignore the fact that he could quickly and easily have gotten a firearm through illegal means.

Let’s for a moment forget that Vester Lee Flanagan did not have a criminal record, and the only crime he had ever been charged with was driving with an altered or revoked licence and having no registration on his vehicle in Pitt County, North Carolina in 2004, which certainly would not have made him ineligible to purchase a firearm.  And he had no history of mental illness either. In other words, he would have passed any background check any time.

So what would Fast Terry suggest?

Depriving him of his Second Amendment right, because he had a history of filing grievances against his employers?

How about making him ineligible to purchase a firearm because he was black? Or gay?

Or how about taking away his rights because he was upset about being fired and refused to leave, forcing the station to call the police to physically remove him from the premises? Would Terry have infringed on his right to keep and bear arms, because he was a jerk to his co-workers?

I’ve always said that the gun grabbers’ goal was not to reduce violence or save lives, but to disarm those of us who committed no crime whatsoever all for the sake of political expediency.

Fast Terry knows perfectly well that no new law would have stopped this shooting. Flanagan would have passed every background check in the world, so the only option left is for Fast Terry to start working to deny others their rights. Others who may be odd… or gay… or black… or difficult to work with…

As my friend Mike Williamson said in an article a long time ago, these politicians want to keep guns out of the “wrong hands” – and guess what! You’ve got the “wrong hands.”

UPDATE: In an interview with Megyn Kelly last night, Alison Parker’s father pledged to do everything in his power to keep guns out of the hands of people he called “crazy.”

I grieve along with Mr. Parker. I cannot imagine the unbearable grief of losing a child! I understand the emotion behind that pledge to shame “legislators into doing something about closing loopholes and background checks.”

However, I also understand the following as a rational person: There was no loophole, and no background check that could have prevented Flanagan from getting a firearm! He was not even seeing a psychiatrist! He was not a prohibited person. There is no background check he would not have passed. The fact that he was an entitled jerk, a bad employee, and a crappy co-worker does not make him mentally ill or ineligible to own a firearm.

There is literally no loophole and no law that allowed him – a law abiding citizen, until he pulled that trigger yesterday – to purchase a gun when he should not have been allowed to do so. None.

And yet, in the heat of grief, the push for more ineffective laws that will do nothing but disarm those who have committed no crime continues, with the likes of Fast Terry and Hillary Clinton leading the charge.

To Burn or Not to Burn

That is the question when it comes to the Hugo Awards after this year’s petulant, foot-stomping debacle perpetrated by the SJWs and their compliant, cliquish lackeys. All the details are here, including a number of links written by respected authors in the sci-fi community, explaining their views on last weekend’s events. I won’t rehash it here.

An interesting discussion has sprung up post-fiasco, however, which is worth a closer look. It’s the question of whether or not the Hugo Awards can be saved. And by “saved,” I mean “can integrity and professionalism be restored to the Hugo Awards after the weekend’s puerile display, or should the Hugos, WorldCon, and all its childish, sneering arrogance just be allowed to rot on the vine, which is what it is already doing anyway?”

Can an organization that threw deserving, respected, dedicated female editors under the bus with a “NO AWARD” vote rather than see them take home a Hugo, merely because of who happened to support their nomination, be saved?

Can an organization that viciously sneered about this being “the year of the asterisk” – and if you don’t get the joke, the asterisk basically means that the award was somehow tainted, cheating was involved, etc. (Of course, now the callow, derisive jerks claim that the asterisk simply means the Hugos made history this year with the number of attendees… sure.) – be saved?

Can an organization whose  supposed leaders – supposed legends in the science fiction field – told the audience that cheering the “NO AWARD” victory was just fine, but booing it is a no-no, be saved?

Some have rightfully said that the Hugos are beyond saving. When members of a clique deride and jeer a block effort to ensure there was no winner, rather than a winner whose only guilt was endorsement by the “wrong” fan base with the “wrong” politics, it can be rightfully argued that there’s no hope for the organization.

And it’s not as if these childish bullies hid it! Hell, they’re proud of it!

There have been some calls for taking the whole thing down by simply block voting “NO AWARD” for every category. Isn’t this what the childish troglodytes did this past weekend? In their huffy, angry zeal to punish those with whose political views they disagreed, they simply block voted for a “NO AWARD” rather than see authors and editors, who may have been deserving and worthy, take home the prize merely because of who endorsed them.

So what to do?

Burn it all down with block “NO AWARD” voting?

Simply take the ball and go home, leaving the Hugo/WorldCon circle jerk to stroke themselves until their little hands get tired, while creating a new award that focuses on actual skill, artistry, and good literature outside the Hugo construct?

Here’s the thing. I think that regardless of the disgusting display of SJW wankery that the Hugos have become, solid writing, good entertainment, and great storytelling should continue to be nominated. Sad Puppies wasn’t about old, white men, no matter what the shrieking shrews of the WorldCon clique claim. The Sad Puppy slate was more politically diverse than the mostly pasty, white milquetoast progressive winners (the human ones, not the “no award”) who walked away with Hugos this year. Women such as Toni Weisskopf, who got the most votes for best editor (long form) in the history of the award, and who was “no awarded,” because PUPPIES… Writer Megan Grey… editors Anne Sowards and Sheila Gilbert… editor Jennifer Brozek… fan writers Amanda Green and Cedar Sanderson…  And these ladies and gentlemen were nominated without a thought to what their politics were.

That’s what the Hugos were supposed to be about. Great writing. Great art.

What it turned into was the “Plastics” from “Mean Girls” wielding their popularity and willfully keeping others from their clique. Hell, they admitted as much.

And if you allow them to keep doing it, that’s exactly what they will do. The Hugos will be a desiccated carcass of what it was supposed to be. And fans who truly want to see a quality body of work represented will be sorely disappointed.

I wouldn’t want to be responsible for the death of an iconic award by simply refusing to fight. Would you?

If it were up to me, I’d keep nominating the best science fiction works I could possibly find – without regard to gender, race, politics, or anything else. Hell… I’d blindly read the works first and make my decision, and THEN figure out who the author is, if that were possible! But work to nominate the best! And then, if the pathetic plastics keep “no awarding” superlative nominees, then they will succeed in killing off quality and art all by themselves, as well as painting themselves to be the disgusting bigots that they are.

And the Sad Puppies won’t have to do anything but nominate the best works out there, which is what they did in the first place.

But to surrender and let it all just die, allowing them to declare victory?

Or to burn it all down by voting to ensure no winners?

I don’t know… just seems counterproductive and shitty somehow. Unconditional surrender sucks. Fighting for what is right even in the face of concerted prog-screeching seems like the honorable thing to do.

%d bloggers like this: