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Love them, protect them, don’t throw them in a blender.

04 Sep

big·ot
Pronunciation: \ˈbi-gət\
Function: noun

…a person obstinately or intolerantly devoted to his or her own opinions and prejudices…

http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/bigot

 

Sweeping statements are a dodgy thing for anyone to engage in; the Banana Peel of Generalisation is often positioned uncomfortably close to the Bottomless Pit of Bigotry, and a careless individual may well find themselves falling into the blackness at sphincter-puckering speeds.

Being aware of this pit – and my poor motor control – I constantly remind myself that not every individual who subscribes to a particular belief does so with the spittle-flecked intensity of a fanatic, nor is the substrate for a persons belief common across the collective.

Despite my belief in such liberal niceties as tolerance, or perhaps because of them, I must admit certain, highly specific blind-spots in my tolerance when it comes to some themes.  There exist beliefs that can – and indeed should – be criticized both widely and openly.  Personally, were I to find myself party to a group being led by a gibbering, fixed-grin maniac with a propensity for wearing their pants as a hat, I’d immediately begin searching for a nearby exit or, failing that, a sharp stick.

As a crude analogy, I’d like to use Lemmings.™  For those poor, deprived individuals who haven’t yet experienced the visceral joys of causing cute little smurf-analogs to violently self-destruct, I’m talking about the green haired variety, not the herbivorous mammals native to Antarctica.

These little guys just love to engage in behavior which could euphemistically be dubbed as “genetically disadvantageous,” or if you’re terminally blunt, “very bloody stupid.”  Lets face it: traipsing towards a death to which the term “Jackson Pollock” could be used descriptively isn’t considered a good idea by anyone besides a Lemming.

If, one day, a free-thinking Lemming happened to halt his headlong rush towards oblivion, he may well develop serious doubts about the wisdom of flinging himself into 6,000RPM’s of angry steel, regardless of how much fun a conga line is.

Upon further reflection, our Lemming may even become slightly critical of his erstwhile companions:

Bugger that for a game of soldiers,” he thinks to himself, as he wipes the viscera from his face, “You’re all bloody morons, and make no mistake!

I wouldn’t consider that Lemming a bigot, would you?

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Posted by on September 4, 2009 in Brown Nuggets Of Woo

 

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