My favourite jerky is kneejerky

I don’t have much to add after yesterday’s post. I feel better for having gotten it down in writing and I regret absolutely none of it. The process of encapsulating my thoughts was important, and the resulting discussion was even more so because it opened my eyes to other interpretations.

Some of them, it has to be said, I don’t subscribe to. The solid-religious viewpoint, and the solid-neutral viewpoint, while interesting, are not for me at this time. I don’t begrudge my friends any solace they might find in those viewpoints, of course.

And I’m fairly sure, on at least some level, I failed to accurately explain exactly what is going on in Australia right now, and how it’s not a matter of different viewpoints with equal rights to an opinion. It’s like if you, my precious handful of readers, were given a say in what my workplace’s documentation department was going to do for its annual company outing. Sure, you have your rights and I respect your opinions. But why do you get to decide anything about how my workmates and I enjoy our employee evening out?

You don’t. And nor should you. This isn’t a matter of having a right to an opinion and a right to a voice.

I could go into more office-chair philosophising about this, but I don’t have the time or the energy today. So this will have to do, until next time.

About Hatboy

I’m not often driven to introspection or reflection, but the question does come up sometimes. The big question. So big, there’s just no containing it within the puny boundaries of a single set of punctuationary bookends. Who are these mysterious and unsung heroes of obscurity and shadow? What is their origin story? Do they have a prequel trilogy? What are their secret identities? What are their public identities, for that matter? What are their powers? Their abilities? Their haunted pasts and troubled futures? Their modus operandi? Where do they live anyway, and when? What do they do for a living? Do they really have these fantastical adventures, or is it a dazzlingly intellectual and overwrought metaphor? Or is it perhaps a smug and post-modern sort of metaphor? Is it a plain stupid metaphor, hedged around with thick wads of plausible deniability, a soap bubble of illusory plot dependent upon readers who don’t dare question it for fear of looking foolish? A flight of fancy, having dozed off in front of the television during an episode of something suitably spaceship-oriented? Do they have a quest, a handler, a mission statement, a department-level development objective in five stages? I am Hatboy.
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1 Response to My favourite jerky is kneejerky

  1. aaronthepatriot says:

    Oh Hatboy. Americans get to decide everything for everyone. It is known.

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