Me, Angry?

I’m asked, “What makes you angry, really angry?”

Oddly enough, it takes me a while to answer.

Though I’m known for having something of a cutting wit, I don’t often express anger. Doesn’t mean I don’t have any. Doesn’t mean that at all. In fact, in the past couple years I have discovered the truth of Dr. Banner’s method of keeping the green machine tamped down. The only time I’m in danger of unwisely showing anything past mild irritation is when I don’t expect to feel it. But that, in turn, doesn’t mean I think about it consciously very often, or ponder the themes that spark my anger.

Having thought about it for a bit, it looks like there are a couple of common threads.

It’s easy enough to raise one’s tiny fist and shout, “Injustice!” when asked about what inspires anger, and I suppose there is some truth to that answer, in my case at least. I don’t want to be one of those reactionary idiots whose idea of moral high ground is following every stampede the panicked herd jumps to. That lot engenders at least as much injustice as they claim to fix. (…Though it never does seem to get fixed, does it? That subject will have to wait.) No, I’m not interested in imagined or invented wrongs, or things someone else says I should be upset about.

I’m angered by the things I actually see, with my own eyes, and in fact find all around me. There’s no virtue signalling available for that kind of thing, because to even notice is verboten, these common violations and prejudices. To notice is bad enough; heaven help you if you mention it, act on it, or, worst of all, try to pull a support from its edifice. Its victims are called perpetrators, and abused under the idea that two wrongs make a right… though they did no wrong to be punished for. Worse, I see these sad creatures beating themselves, cheerfully accepting their unworthiness, trying to show that they’re one of the Good Ones by loudly proclaiming that there are none.

I see this in so many settings, so many kinds of groupings. It angers me. Reality is denied. Truth is spat upon. Strengths are denigrated and called weaknesses. Abilities are refused, achievements and goals disparaged. Endless potential is wasted, and no one knows how much has been lost. In all this, the ones who have been dragged down so often have no idea what amazing possibilities wait inside themselves. They only have a vague feeling of sadness at their lack, and follow the lesson that they need to beat themselves more soundly to become worthy.

And for what? So that the deluded can keep their delusions? So that the weak and stupid can call themselves strong and wise? So that the less able can lord over those who have natural abilities and learned skills?

Yes. That is exactly what it is for.

No one thinks that slavery, torture, murder, and the like are good things. (Unless done to the right people, of course. Yet another topic for another time.) There is very little value in wasting emotional energy on those evils. They simply need to go, with all haste and with extreme prejudice. Widely-cheered indoctrination and subdual of good people’s potential, however, affronts everything in my being. It’s slavery by another name, and relies on the enslaved to remain through mental and emotional abuse. It’s horrifying.

It all ties in with the purpose of this site, actually. It’s partly here to document my own growth and discoveries, but partly to encourage others to break free. It’s like I always say: They’re your chains; it’s your choice.

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