“This year, the stakes are higher than ever,” (Obama) said, according to a transcript of his remarks provided by Democratic officials. “It will be up to each of you to make sure that young people, African Americans, Latinos and women who powered our victory in 2008 stand together once again…”
… Ah wuz whittlin’ myself a figurine of Lyndon LaRouche this mornin’ out of a nahce, firm, solid stool I’d passed earlier when a mahty fine chicken mosied on past the porch an’ mah pants went tight all of a sudden …
That’s enough of that nonsense, thank you.
Let’s talk about retards.
Seems a whole bunch of people have been getting a mite tetchy lately about who’s calling who a retard and whether or not calling a person or a bunch of people retards can be considered acceptable in this day and age, this being a day and an age when taking offence at a mere word is guaranteed to generate more in the way of outrage than would an illustrated guide to buggering a chicken sideways with a vibrating fence post.
So, before we denude the English language altogether of those words that make some folks squirt in horror because someone might feel poorly if they’re used, we need to provide some clarity here on precisely how, why and when the word retard makes perfect sense in its application and when it does not.
To describe someone with a genuine intellectual disability, a diagnosed condition or affliction as a retard is not a clever thing to do. And those who are inclined to do so reveal more about their own intellectual corruption and emotional infantilism and inflict more damage to their own reputation (if they’ve got one) and social standing (if they’ve got that) than they would do to the subject or subjects of their slur.
And I feel that you would be perfectly within your rights, if you were the parent or guardian of someone so afflicted, to go forth and seek out the offending party and present them with a thumping good slap upside the head with a meat mallet by way of redress, though far be it for me to encourage random acts of brutal, senseless and satisfying violence, no matter how well justified you might feel they may be.
Yet let us now turn our attention to the appropriate usage of the word retard, and to those individuals to whom it may be most aptly and satisfactorily applied.
Steve Clemons, who writes “The Washington Note” has closed comments on his blog and remarks –
The comments on my blog have grown increasingly vile — and are not in any way constructive, civil, fair-minded, or policy-oriented. I am turning them off …
… I’m off to Havana Cuba for a research trip for a few days and have no interest or time in playing hall monitor for folks who need to grow up …
… I have emphasized over and over again that I am too busy to blog, do my New America Foundation work, and be a nanny for those who are not mature enough to be able to manage a civil discussion here …
… Eventually, I will review the last few weeks of comments and remove every one of them that went over the line with extremely crass and demeaning language …
… If you folks grow up, we can turn this on — but it takes shared commitment and responsibility. I won’t tolerate those who can’t be civil — on all sides of these debates …
We here at Groupthink Books Ltd (a wholly owned subsidiary of Groupthink Industries & Holdings Incorporated) have noticed the recent trend in the publication of biographies and autobiographies by and about a whole bunch of “who-the-fuck?” deadshits and we thought we’d hop on the bandwagon before the market in “who-the-fuck?” deadshits dried up and fucked off out of it.
For example, there’s this one guy who made a living pushing a ball around a paddock with his foot and had some substance abuse issues and allegedly roughed up his girlfriend who has “written” a book just to let people know he is not a deadshit.
His name is Wayne. He’s misunderstood, that’s all, and it hurts. It hurts real bad. Poor Wayne.
There’s this woman who married a fat bloke and fucked him till he got caught for killing people. She’s “written” a book about it just in case people had the wrong impression and thought less of her because of her lifestyle choices. She too would like everyone to know that she is not a deadshit.
Her name is Roberta. She’s misunderstood, that’s all, just another true-blue little Aussie battler trying to make a go of things and it hurts. Poor Roberta.
Then there’s this other guy. His name is Mick Gatto. Just because he used to hang around with crooks and do God-only-knows-what for a living, doesn’t mean Mick is a deadshit.
So Mick has “written” a book too. To let everyone know he’s just very misunderstood. Poor Mick.
Nowadays, Mick is thought of as Australia’s answer to Sam Giancana.
Australia’s answer to “The Grapes of Wrath” is “The Castle”, just in case you need a little perspective on that. Australia’s answer to David Attenborough is Steve Irwin if you need a little more. Australia’s answer to Bonnie Parker and Clyde Barrow would probably be a couple of teenage shoplifters in fucking Minto.
Groupthink Books Ltd (a wholly owned subsidiary of Groupthink Industries & Holdings Incorporated) has always prided itself on publishing works of literature. Which is to say, books that are actually written by the person whose name is on the cover.
Fuck that for a joke.
Because it’s pretty obvious to anyone who’s had the misfortune to hear any of these three “so-not-deadshits” speak publicly that none of them could probably write the word “penis” on a toilet wall without a spellcheck and an editor present.
So, bugger the literature, we’re pulping the lot, tearing up all our contracts, and putting the freaks up front.
We’ve decided to hire three ghostwriters on a permanent, rotating-shift basis and set them about the writing of books about deadshits who’ve never actually done much or achieved anything of lasting worth for anyone’s benefit other than their own and who never shut up about it.
We’re calling this series “Deadshit Dialogues” and currently have 24 “books” slated for publication during 2010, all of which will be entitled “My Life” just to keep things nice and simple for the common folk.
We here at Groupthink Books Ltd (a wholly owned subsidiary of Groupthink Industries & Holdings Incorporated) are confident that our brave new publishing initiative will bring about a much needed revolution in the book industry in these troubled times. Which is to say, the continuing publication of stacks and stacks and stacks and stacks of books by and about a whole bunch of “who the fuck?” deadshits who deserve to be known and understood by squillions. That’s what they say, anyway.
So you can take “Dreams From My Father” and shove it up your arse.
Why on earth would anyone want to read about some random fucker who became the first African-American President of the United States when you can read all about the life and times of an aging and overweight ex-boxer who used to hang around with crooks in pubs and cafes pretending to be characters from a Mario Puzo novel?
That’s real life, that is. You think you know what real life is all about? You don’t know jack shit.
But now, courtesy of Groupthink Books Ltd (a wholly owned subsidiary of Groupthink Industries & Holdings Incorporated) new “Deadshit Dialogues” series, you can read all about real life and get yourself some right and proper learnings fixed to your learnin’ organ (that spongy thing inside your head, up on top).
Because books about people who actually achieve things in life aren’t worth a pinch of shit, quite frankly.
team@groupthink.com.au
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