Woke seppuku reached something of an apotheosis – I shall not say, a maximum – in the recent announcement by a Loyola professor of marketing (marketing, forsooth – that quintessential organ of oppressive capitalism) that clean, tidy, well stocked pantries are “classist, racist and sexist.”
I kid thee not. Pantries. What’s next: butt wiping?
One wonders immediately whether professors of marketing are per se classist, racist and sexist. How not?
Keep working your way down this rabbit hole with me. For “clean, tidy, well stocked pantries,” substitute any other denotation of something that has been from ancient days – or even in the last day or two – thought unremarkably good. To wit:
- Clean, tidy, well put together people, places, or things; as, e.g., functioning toilets and sewers. So racist! See, that’s why they don’t have those sorts of things in woke primitive lands. Because those sorts of things are wrong! Like wrongness: that, too, is wrong!
- Knowledge and understanding; as, e.g., of woke lady professors.
- Wisdom; sanity.
- Probity & prudence.
- Excellence of any sort, even of “evil” arts such as burglary, picking pockets, or carjacking; or as financial hijinks (like those of Bernie Madoff or Sam Bankman Fried, of Goldman Sachs or the Federal Reserve).
- Children – and, by extension, women and men.
- Power, authority, or influence – as of liberal politicians or woke lady professors, e.g. Thus, office, position, tenure – as of woke lady professors, e.g.
- Discernment; thus, terms that denote, and so constrain and limit, as terms must; e.g., “woke lady professor,” or “tidy pantry.”
- Judgement, approbation or disapprobation of this or that – in the limit, of judgement, approbation or disapprobation themselves.
- Money, safety, security – as of woke lady professors; e.g., Clockwork Orange is OK with woke lady professors, right?
- Property – as of woke lady professors, e.g. (they own stuff: so racist, classist, and sexist!).
- Beauty, allure, sexual market value – as of woke lady professors, e.g. Make them as ugly as the ugliest! Let all who see them throw up a bit in their mouths!
- Value of any sort that anybody might construe as “good” – as, e.g., of woke lady professors, who are in virtue of their offices ipso facto angels of racism, sexism, and classism, and ought therefore to be deleted.
- Thought – grammar, logic, syntax, math, argument, discourse, proposition, rationality as such; so then, language per se; as that of, e.g., woke lady professors.
- Liberality, tolerance, forbearance, forgiveness, charity: all of them despicably Christianish, and, as magnanimous, suspiciously male and paternal.
- Wokeness, political correctness, leftism – all of them deplorable gestures toward a vision of truth that is good.
- Virtue signalling: so racist, sexist and classist. Virtue is evil. So is the notion of evil. This statement is evil, and wrong!
You get the drift. It is to the zero of being, which is the basic good of all other goodness. That’s how we can tell it is evil.
That is also how we can be sure that it is doomed. It may take all of us here down with it, of course. But, it is bound to fall before the inexorable scythe of nature’s Policy Test. And since we are all going down before the scythe in any event, why worry much about the peculiarly silly motions of our woke adversaries, that – absent a Great Awakening to some Very Strong and Roborative Coffee – bid fair to ruin us all?
We are all of us going down. The woke are likely to go down harder and sooner, for fewer of them than of us will make it to some lee shore in time to escape the deluge their policies shall trigger (that word!). But we are all going down. Our main task then, the task that undergirds all others, is to do our best, our utmost, to ensure that we ourselves and ours go down to the dust in hopes of our joint resurrection to joyful life everlasting.
I.e.: do the right thing yourself, at every turn, under God’s forbearance and trusting in his love and Provenance. It is all that lies within your power in any case, and so it is the only thing you need to take care of yourself.
Meanwhile, leave the dead of mind and heart, who worry about whether the tidiness of their pantries – as if! – indicates the damnation of their souls to bury their like. Leave them to bury themselves, i.e. Shake their dust off your sandals as you walk away from them.
After all, the more attention you pay to them, the more powerful they get. Unless, that is – as with this post – your attention is that of friendly mockery, that recognizes itself in its targets; and so, of humor at bottom good, and indeed charitable.
Nothing is so acid to undue pomp as true and humble friendship, that speaks truth without quibble or scruple. Jesus was all over this, and John Baptist. Paul, too; and with him, so many other doctors, saints, and popes – aye, and reformers, too, God help us. That is why their critiques were so ruthless, so total, and so devastating.
Witly or not, our present comics are their acolytes.
No critique → no orthodoxy.
Send in the clowns, the fools and the evangelists! Ne’er were they more needed!
To rub salt into the wound, this absurdity about pantries was from a professor at *Loyola.*
Bishops: where the Hell are you?
I suppose the question answers itself. God be with you brothers. I feel sure that – God being with you, I mean – his Presence to you shall hurt you, sempiternally. Unless you man up, repent, and amend your ways. Let’s let fly with some anathematae, no? Otherwise, what are you, but Satan’s quislings?
Panties, too, are obviously sexist, racist, and classist.
As Jacques Strop has written, in his masterful, What’s Old Again Anew:
Panties in the pantry,
Sinclair Lewis wrote of old,
Deserve the ban like Gantry:
Choice. As with koans and haiku – not to mention motets, chansons, lieder, and sonatas – limericks impose a form so strict as to rule out extraneous considerations, and so as pretty reliably to pick out – whether happily, peacefully, hilariously, sorrowfully, tragically, or beautifully, or in the limit all of the above – basic truths. Strict form almost guarantees verisimility.
What is more, and as in the example you gratefully adduce from Strop, such economy of expression as strict form imposes tends almost always to relevate to our attention the relevance of a given concept to other domains of thought that seem prima facie far afield. The relevance sooner or later discovered of this or that abstruse topic in logic or maths to concrete reality is the palmary exemplar of this phenomenon.
Formal stricture → concrete advantage → ontological power & influence. NB: ontological power and influence reduce in the end to understanding.
Such is the power, and the allure, of all formal languages.
Don’t get me wrong, please, despite my tongue-in-veritable-cheek response at first.
We are not all going down. The time is ripe with opportunity to fulfill the, I think, immeasurable demand for exactly what the Left abhors, ie, everything they fall to comprehend and which you list so completely.
Indeed, some few of us must in the nature of things survive the coming catastrophe, as it seems now it shall be. And that few will form the remnant, upon and in which some new and greater iteration of the Tradition of the West shall arise. Like its forebear, it shall be stronger than all its competitors – and, indeed, all its forbears. I’m not too worried about that. We might lose a cathedral here and there, but most of the cathedrals will survive. And the plainchant, and the polyphony; so, the liturgy.
Because why? Because they are just good, and everyone who is not a total fool can see that they are good, and will want them to survive. Everyone loves the cathedrals. They can’t help it. No atheist wants to destroy Chartres, or Durham. All the atheists love to quaff a pint in the precincts of such cathedral closes. It feels holy, and good, to do so. Why? *Because it is.*
Those who cannot see all this are the ones who will first perish in the storm, who have no reliable husbands or wives or families, when their pensions and tenures and bank deposits evaporate.
As you say, the human heart is such as to long for the True, the Good, and the Beautiful. There’s just no gainsaying it. The nihilist proposals are all then doomed ab initio.
Which should hardly surprise us. After all, in proposing that life is meaningless and stupid, nihilism proposes that nihilism is meaningless and stupid.
A bold prediction: the White Anglo-Saxon Woman will awaken before the Men, if they have anything of spirit left in them. Guns may in fact be outlawed (see Great Britain, Canada, Australia) and the hwhite man will accept it without too much trouble, but take away the hwhite woman’s Kitchen-Aid, Tupperware and full stocked pantry and the world will truly tremble before the fury unleashed (in fact, it is what would awaken the Anglo-Saxon man in his cold, coordinated violence, White Knight and lover of Woman as he is in his soul). I take no pleasure in reporting it, it will come with all the unmixed mercilessness of the WASP woman’s crusades (Prohibition, Abolition, etc.) but it is what I foresee.
Only half in jest.
Yeah. Female Suffrage supervenes the sufficience of woman per se.
Which is obviously stupid. The species requires two sexes. It is amazing how much recent cultural discourse has consisted in a repudiation of that ineluctable reality.
Part of what’s happening Right Now is the collision between what’s economically possible and (most) women’s notion of sufficience. What do women want? They want what cannot be achieved. Not that we should not shoot for what they want, of course (within the limits of the Real!). But, we should not so fool ourselves as to suppose that all which women want is achievable, or that it ought therefore to be achieved, or even sought.
After all, no man I ever knew has thought for a moment that all he hoped for from life ought to be handed to him. I read of some incels out there who think such things, but cannot quite bring myself to think of them as men, in full.
Manhood, in full, starts with embrace of death. I could go on about that, but I trust most readers shall be able to fill in the blanks without too much trouble. Let me know, if not, and I shall expatiate.
At any rate, yeah: what the Anglo Saxon women find intolerable, scary, or horrifying, their men will urgently want to extirpate. Like we want to extirpate the mice, and the expired light bulbs, and all the other sources of uncertainty and fear.
Weird. I never cared much about the mice (to take them as exemplary), before I got a wife. I suppose because I was myself before I married so peripatetic. The mice beset this camp. But we’ll be camping here only a day or two more, so … we’ll put up with their cute little shards of shit, and then move on.
Men are nomads first. It goes along with being a bachelor, who is nowise yet a paterfamilias.
Women root a man. It’s a good thing, a noble thing. Indeed, nobility for men *just is* paterfamiliarity. So I tell myself, as I consider the desert wastes I was once wont happy to roam alone and free, vast and inviting …
But then, all imaginative romance of masculine adventure aside – which is still, even at my advanced age, totally possible to me, damnit (“Just like a 20 year old!”) – there am I, night after night, with my wife sitting together comfortable in our little home, replete with its manifold discomfitures – with, that is to say, its charitable acquiescences: its love, howsoever awkward and so at bottom frustrated in its intentions, thus painful.
No purely creaturely relation under the orbit of the moon can be altogether quiet.
Back, then, to the fundamental topic at hand: women’s suffrage – not as a merely political measure, but rather as a measure ontological (and, so, determinative of its echoes in the “merely” political realm) must as properly construed, like that of men, begin with the embrace of death – with the embrace of the death of all that they hold most dear, in service to the Lord of Life. Nothing less might in the end, all things considered, fully satisfy any woman – or, any man.
Far better than I could have put it. I was recently reading the novel “The Leopard’s Spots,” which the film Birth of a Nation was based on. The mythos of the First Klan is not a story one will find in schools now. This quote is relevant:
“You are to call out every troop of the Klan in full force the night before the election. You are to visit every negro in the county, and warn every one as he values his life not to approach the polls at this election. Those who come, will be allowed to vote without molestation. All cowards will stay at home. Any man, black or white, who can be scared out of his ballot is not fit to have one. Back of every ballot is the red blood of the man that votes. The ballot is force. This is simply a test of manhood. It will be enough to show who is fit to rule the state.”
The diabolical inspiration behind ‘wokeism’, which is just the latest manifestation of leftism, does indeed want to destroy the Good, the Beautiful and the True and reduce the achievements of civilization down to the lowest common denominator which is necessarily the material in its crudest form. This would also involve the eventual and complete loss of freedom. It is the attempt to destroy Form, which is the expression of spirit in matter, and reduce humanity to a state of unformed chaos or as near as that as can be.
Anyone who has travelled knows that white people are relatively tidy, but that poor white trash are often trashy indeed. Cold winter theory would seem to explain the delight in stocked pantries; the improvidence of tropical peoples is proverbial (cold winter theory, again).
This lady-prof is just posting her vile opinion for likes, but the cumulative cultural effect of this trash is terrible. It removes shame from the slovenly and places it on the orderly, thus inverting God’s order and perverting his goad of improvement. A woman should be ashamed that her pantry is a shamble of box wine, stale doughnuts and empty ice cream cartons.
The bishops agree with the lady-prof and do everything they can to confirm Nietzsche’s critique of Christianity. Blessed are the slobs, for the Kingdom shall be theirs!