That last post may upset some of the parties I describe in it, should they read it. If I could get through to the most troublesome of them more diplomatically, without the risk of causing them offense, I would. I don’t think I can.
What happened here isn’t that somebody said something offensive to me in passing after years of interaction without incident and I flipped the fuck out. The disputes in question include seven to eleven years of recurrent verbal abuse, gaslighting, and Janus-like behavior by master manipulators. This stuff didn’t come out of nowhere. Nor are these exclusively old grudges that I keep nursing five or ten years later. This shit does not fucking stop. It isn’t just a question of forgiving someone for something that he did to me years ago. It’s also a question of capitulating, or not, over a rat problem that I was actively trying to deal with not a full month ago, the last I was in Oregon. It’s a question of how the hell to deal with friends who were obnoxious about their own access to luxury at a time when I was trying to budget my way out of an impending personal cash flow wipeout LAST WEEK. Under the circumstances I was facing, my priority was not to be consummately gracious about some friends’ rental yacht. Normal people do not need me to spell this out.
I don’t feel good about getting up on my high horse over these things, but we have a real problem in the United States with put-upon people moving heaven and earth to appear gracious to those who are actively screwing them over, and a worse problem with affluent conformists trying to force the disaffected to show this compulsory, neurotic, false graciousness. For the sake of this country, someone has to call this shit out. If it’s my duty, so be it. If the courage I’m called to show is the courage to tell pushy yuppies to come across some fucking manners, I can’t complain. We have too many timid Timmies in this country who seem to think it’s the suffering of Ivan Denisovich to get shaded by bougie assholes for checking their privilege. I do not want to be one of these quaking cowards. Forget spending too much time unemployed or doing stoop labor or picking fruit while unemployed; that’s a way to really waste one’s life.
Put another way, Adam Gellin is a natural, emergent response to Hoyt Thorpe. Sometimes there is no other way. It may be a bit obnoxious or treacherous, but the sub rosa shit won’t police itself. Just look at our presidential candidates. Just look at the walking garbage that made that cut. The gubernatorial blowjob fan fiction will have to wait, maybe to be written by someone else. (This is the internet, so it’s probably come to pass already.) I’m too tired from my efforts to chaperone our country, and to look for airfare and work, to bother with that. I’m too tired right now not to put aside childish things.