I wrote this yesterday, then thought, “Naw.”

With all the really horrid weirdness going on in the world right now, I just can’t work up any eloquent hate on trivialities like SJWs.

Except then, right after I stored the draft and decided to forget it, I saw this over at DOOT:

I’m so old, I remember when the humorless blue-haired people who wanted to censor everyone else were senior citizens–not twenty-somethings.

And that was too much temptation. So consider what follows my answer to the above quote, if you want.

I don’t mind that they’re around. They’re entertaining as hell, when they’re not being too obnoxious, and sometimes they bring color to what can seem a monochromatic world.

I’m a little bothered by how firmly they seem to be in charge lately, though. I’m too young to have been a hippy, but old enough to remember them. When they weren’t in charge, and approached from upwind, hippies were fun. They were all about permissiveness. Not one would have written a book titled “I’m Okay, You’re Cisnormative.” Now they seem to be running the asylum, and all they want to talk about is restrictions. That’s what I hated about my parents’ generation.

That’s the dissonance right there! That’s what throws me. When I was a kid, the weirdos were the ones pushing limits. The ones who always frowned upon my shenanigans wore ties and got haircuts weekly. From a guy named Bob. They would no more show a visible tattoo than I’d get a sex-change operation. You knew who was on which side, and what they were up to.

Face it. Mrs. Grundy is supposed to be the normal one.

But now! Jesus! In any given group of people, the one most likely to jump down your throat for your behavior is a 300-pound shemale named Trigglypuff! How’s a guy supposed to keep it straight? There’s no place to relax.

It’s beyond weird. Weird I can take, I even kind of like it. An undertone of subversiveness is good. There should always be somebody ready to question norms. But these people have found the hard line between subversion and perversion, and they seem determined to drag us all screaming over that line. They’re nihilists, just trying to tear shit down for its own sake. They don’t want freedom, they want … I don’t know what the hell they want and I’m not sure they do either, but that’s not my problem. Nihilists are no friends of mine. I have no more in common with Leon Czolgosz – or his less pleasant cousin Trigglypuff – than Little Bear has with Albert Einstein. I can’t figure them out, but I know what I don’t like.

Hell, I don’t even care. Being an object of purse-lipped disapproval by such people means I must be doing something right. Can’t imagine what it is, but good.

No doubt they think the same of me. That’s fine, too. But I’m not the one claiming that men who act like men and women who act like women are somehow offensive freaks, and that people who won’t act like sheep and subjects are somehow evil. So disliking me isn’t a sign you’re right about anything.

Screw’em. They want to be the new normal? Fine. Whatever. I never much liked the old normal. Enter the new hippy.