It’s a wet wintry Saturday, and I’m fed up with the usual seasonal shopping. I make no apology for this. Two weeks to go before Christmas and I’m dreading it. Having outlined outlined my reasons several times before. It’s not that I’m a complete anti seasons greeting curmudgeon, just that I can’t really get behind the whole Secret Santa-Office party-you-vill-be-jolly-or-ve-vill-heff-you-disciplined-boi-cracky. If you didn’t quite understand that last phrase, just read it out aloud in a Herr Flick accent with the last two words in a yokelish drawl. Trust me, it will make perfect sense. Again, no apology should be implied or construed in any way shape or form. I’m not sorry and here’s the kicker; you can’t make me.
The only time I’ll apologise is if I’m proven wrong. In addition I won’t apologise if someone is ‘offended’ by the way I walk or talk, or mind my own damn business. Nor for being born into the skin I’m in, being an ‘unreconstructed male’, nor the years I’ve survived on this planet. I also won’t apologise for thinking Brexit, Trump’s election as US President and the impending implosion of the European Union are good things. For a given value of ‘good’. Nor do I apologise for my scepticism over man made climate change, or thinking Jimmy Savile might have actually been innocent, or that the lamestream media just makes shit up a lot of the time. Nor do I apologise for thinking that Justin Trudeau is promoted way above his pay grade or that bill C-16 outlawing ‘hate speech’ against transgenders is a truly, epically bad idea. It won’t stop them offing themselves. Nor do I think that the current increase of drug abuser deaths is a bad thing either. Think of it as evolution in action. I’m not unsympathetic, I just think we shouldn’t enable the worst excesses of being homeless, that’s all. There are better ways to help homeless people than simply chasing down the drug dealers. For this, I also make no apology.
Seriously, I’m rather overcome with apology fatigue. Fed up of having to apologise when the fault is not mine, or words are twisted by the unprincipled into something that was never intended. In short there’s far too much apologising, and not enough cheerful “Go fuck yourself.” Especially when the demands for apologies are almost invariably insincere and used as weapons to cow the strong into submission by noisy cry-bullies. Fuck them all, or rather not, the bastards would only breed, and there are far too many as it is.
Sod it. Time for pancakes and honey.