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A younger Haus might help with your memory on this one, which is entirely off. A younger Haus might also note that nobody has so far bought your defence of your warm-hearted, absurdist dig at Mordant - that, no matter how sincere you are, nobody has at any point expressed any confidence that you are accurate in your depiction of your motives there. This young man might suggest that you think about what has happened, in terms of the community whose perceived reading skills you are keen to defend, to make it more likely that such a statement from you will be taken as a personal attack and then, when defended as affectionate and humorous, that that defence will be assumed to be a lie.
There would then be a pause, and the compassionate, arm-throwing, wheedling bit would begin. This would involve pointing out that it seems from your behaviour that you are trying to be a more worthwhile and valuable member, saying some interesting things, on occasions actually being amusing, only that your pride seems unable to allow you to accept any correction or challenge without the original statement being claimed to be a joke that everybody else who encountered it was just too dull to recognise, and in extremity plumps for for the Last of the Summer Wine pictures in an attempt to replicate the effects of the Mosquito on children, except on people who can be arsed.
The companionable arm would quiver heroically as this young chap, still thinking he could change the world, would explain that a bad name had a terrible adhesion, and that if one was serious about being a part of a community (and, God knows, I have often puzzled at why, the benefits therefrom being often so intangible and the number on the Internet thereof being so numerous, people get so bent out of shape about not being carried shoulder-high by one particular group of a few dozen furries) the only thing one can really do is do one's best not to be misunderstood, not to seek out people with whom one has previously knocked skulls and not, ultimately, to be a gigantodouche, or even one whose behaviour can be misconstrued as appropriate to such a mighty piece of unisex cleansing equipment.
But, you know, older, and thinking "well, what gives me the right, really? What a prig young me was! Many of the largely Temply women who seem to get a load of affectionate, absurdist not-hassling seem to be likely to leave for the West soon, there's nothing much here to defend or integrate with, and this kind of Churchill Hall japery is the future of Barbelith through sheer determination, whether one really fancies it or not. Why not celebrate that?" |
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