The Etiquette of the Wolves
Tim Barrus
New York Times
David Brooks is one of my favorite writers because he is so innately stubborn. Brooks’ thematic focus is, always, one way or the other, projected toward the values of civility. This can even extend to a catholicism that implies there are higher gods we have to reach for or we are probably doomed as a species.
I like that last part. I am on the side of we are doomed as a species. Doomed forever to disappear.
Brooks believes in hope. I do not believe in hope. I find it a survival mechanism of limited if homogenous aberration built around the basic premise of if people could be more civil, we would not have all the problems we have. I beg to differ. We are our problems, and we are responsible for them even if we do not know it. Knowing it is irrelevant. The problems are still there.
The David Brooks’ civility is the civility of the humble scribe found among the monks. It worked in the 12th-Century. It no longer exists.
I have never met a gentleman. I have no idea who or what that might be.
In lieu of religion, we have the Internet.
Who can stand up to the Internet. I can think of no one. The Internet is judge, jury, and malevolent executioner. Give the thing the finger. I did. I still do.
Social genocide is the new norm. Tolerance is an animal from the past.
I have had gay writers go after the way my voice sounds and what I do with my hair.
The Internet does not care. It can’t. It’s the Internet. You allow it to run your life or you don’t.
I have had straight writers go for my throat for attempting to publish my books. Accusers will have their day, too. Watch. Listen. It’s coming. No one knows when it will be their turn.
I am no one’s norm. The question is about survival. It begins by turning your back on the Internet. You will not die.
I suggest you might even thrive.