October 20, 2013 10:34 pm -


We don’t go in for racist speech around here. And while it takes zero energy to maintain that stance, it matters. It’s a standard that should be automatic for anyone over the age of four.

Sadly, Brendan O’Neill doesn’t hew to such standards. And, in rationalizing racist speech, Brendan O’Neill gives us explicit permission to call him the flaming assnut that he aspires to be.

Secreting a column for Reason magazine, O’Neill bleats that calling a football team the ‘Washington Redskins’, over the consistent and rather plaintive objections of the Native American community, isn’t just A-OK. It’s laudable, because people have no actual right to be offended when you call them an emasculated shitweasel on toast, which Brendan O’Neill most assuredly is:

…the right not to be offended is not a serious right. The desire to never feel offence is just sensitivity disguised as a right, emotional weakness dolled up as a “freedom from offence,” and it is used as a battering ram against real liberties that actually matter—particularly the liberties of speech and association.

The war of words against any team or informal community that speaks in a way decreed “inappropriate” by the self-elected guardians of correctness shows how imperious PC can be.

For God’s sake, it’s going to take me a week to dilute the syntactical bowel-blockage of that paragraph. Notwithstanding, O’Neill’s point emerges, limp and resentful; if any words hurt you, no matter the reason, you are worthless and weak. You have no right to feel anything except pride in your abuser, because he is exercising something blithely crucial to humane discourse — the right to be a pallid, contemptible jerk-off.

But there’s more, because like the falling-down-drunk guy rummaging in his pockets for $5.00 chips after getting his manhood powderized at a craps table, self-hating bungnubs like Brendan O’Neill always have something to add to their legacy:

The simple fact is this—neither the name of the Redskins nor the tag Yid Army has any racial intent. On the contrary, when fans holler “Come on you Redskins!” or “We are the Yids!,” they are making completely harmless, even positive statements, about themselves and the team they support.

So if I don’t intend to offend Brendan O’Neill when I note that he is a splay-eyed tailpipe-sucking dickwit, I’m good to go; and more to the point, so is he:

Once, censorship was primarily concerned with obliterating certain ideas, be it communism, fascism, or whatever. Now it has bigger ambitions: to blacklist not just certain ways of thinking but also certain forms of chatter and banter between friends and teammates. It wants to colonise not just our ideological universes, but our personal lives and friendships, our informal discussions, our very self-identification.

Since we’re just ‘bantering’, old-style, Brendan O’Neill will be delighted to learn that, speaking for my own Native American antecedents, Brendan O’Neill can make love to a land mine.