Go Make Me A Sammich of NonsenseWading into the heart of enemy territory, I posted the following over at Go Make Me a Poorly Written Sammich in response to her assertion that her fight to wrest control of tabletop gaming away from straight, white, normal, and Christian men is important, as evidenced by a gay, non-white, Islamic man shooting up a bar in Orlando:
You are absolutely right. The politics is personal, and few things are as personal as sitting around a table pretending to be that which you aren’t. For this reason, every single aspect of our culture is a fitting and appropriate battleground over which we must fight for total and absolute control.
Speaking as someone on the other side of the aisle who feels warrior-adjacent without actually owning the identity of being a warrior, I salute you and your efforts!
May we meet on the field of battle for control over imaginary fields of battle. As the cycle of history grinds ever onwards, I have complete faith that it will grind you and yours into dust, while me and mine will emerge from the coming tribulations stronger than ever. You no doubt feel that the magical forces of feelings will allow you to emerge victorious. Good luck with that. You’re going to need it.
It must be posted here to preserve it for posterity, as the loverly and blubberly hostess of Go Make Me A Sammich of Nonsense, is one of those strong and independent feminists who wilts at the slightest hint of criticism. And by “criticism”, I mean less than full throated support for her irrational positions.
Because I mean every word of that. If her case is that, ‘Within the narrative everything, outside the narrative nothing, against the narrative nothing,’ then that’s a field of battle on which I will happily meet. It’s not one on which her ideas can win, because she doesn’t have any. Like locusts and liberals everywhere, she cannot create, she can only move into fertile fields, infect them, destroy them, and move on to other fertile crops.
Thirty years ago her target would have been Hollywood, publishing, or the media, but those have been fully infested with parasites already. The declining quality of all three rises in direct proportion to their efforts to inject their toxic views into their product. The same effect is at work at Paizo, whose most adventures…er, I mean railroads…er, I mean stories you can interact with a little bit, ain’t worth the powder it would take to blow them up.
And soon, soon my pretties, the conservative buzzards will arrive to feast upon the flesh of those decaying dinosaurs. Strong and healthy through the fight for existence, if they can keep the poz out, those bloated parasitical infested behemoths will fall, one by one.
Content hustlers like Anna Kreider may trundle along on the donations of trustafarians seeking to assuage their guilt over unearned success for a time, but we all know how this story ends. The market favors strength and creativity, not whining and piggybacking.
This fight can have only one ending.
May the God they deny have mercy on their souls, because we sure won’t.