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SJWs Always Lie by Vox DaySJWs Always Lie: Taking Down the Thought Police, Vox Day (Castalia House 2015)

If Vox Day didn’t exist, Social Justice Warriors wouldn’t want to invent him. Indeed, they wouldn’t be able to imagine him: a white racist, sexist and homophobe who isn’t just more intelligent, more knowledgeable and wittier than they are, but isn’t actually white. As he delights in telling them: he’s part Hispanic and part American Indian. Like Milo Yiannopoulos, the gay conservative who supplies the introduction for this book, Vox Day is a living refutation of the Social Justice Weltanschauung.

That’s part of why they hate him so much. You’ll understand the rest by reading SJWs Always Lie. He understands them much better than they understand him. In fact, they don’t understand him at all. That’s why he’s so effective in his attacks on them and they’re so ineffective in theirs on him. SJWs certainly win many battles, but many more of their victims might survive if they have a copy of this book to guide them. The number one rule is: Never apologize. The Nobel Laureates James Watson and Sir Tim Hunt and the Mozilla CEO Brendan Eich disobeyed that rule and paid the price:

Watson’s apology could not have been more abject. Eich’s sincerity and abasement before the thought police could not have been more genuine or more groveling. Hunt’s apology could not have come quicker. Yet none of them proved sufficient to even marginally reduce the amount of social pressure the SJWs continued to bring to bear on them – pressure that none of them proved able to successfully withstand. (ch. 3, “When SJWs Attack”, pg. 72)

SJWs say they want to make the world a cleaner, kinder, caringer place. In fact, they want power. Which means, inter alia, the power to humiliate and destroy people who are superior to them. Orwell described another aspect of their psychology like this:

Sometimes I look at a Socialist — the intellectual, tract-writing type of Socialist, with his pullover, his fuzzy hair, and his Marxian quotation — and wonder what the devil his motive really is. It is often difficult to believe that it is a love of anybody, especially of the working class, from whom he is of all people the furthest removed. The underlying motive of many Socialists, I believe, is simply a hypertrophied sense of order. (The Road to Wigan Pier, 1937)

Unfortunately, Day’s writing isn’t as powerful and effective as Orwell’s. SJWs Always Lie isn’t badly written or painful to read, but it’s by no means as well-written and pleasurable as it could have been. The cartoons by Red Meat that begin each chapter are often crisper and clearer than the prose that follows. As Orwell points out in “Politics and the English Language” (1946): “When you are composing in a hurry … it is natural to fall into a pretentious, Latinized style.” And Day certainly wrote this book in a hurry: I feel tired merely contemplating the amount he gets done not just as a writer but as a blogger, editor, gamer, and networker too.

Those are more reasons for SJWs to hate him. As a self-professed Christian, he shouldn’t hate them back and I think he mostly succeeds. But I also think he’s more Christianized than Christian. He’s pagan and aristocratic in his values, not humble or pacific. Nietzsche and Aristotle are much more apparent in his thinking and writing than Christ or St Paul: I can’t remember seeing “Molon labe, motherfuckers” in the Sermon on the Mount. But I have seen it at Day’s blog. If you visit the blog regularly, SJWs Always Lie will be reinforcement, not revelation, but by buying the book you support a very worthy cause. If one Vox Day can win endorsements like the following, imagine what ten or a hundred could do:

“Vox Day is one sick puppy.” – Dr. P.Z. Myers, PhD.

“Vox Day is a fascist mega-dickbag and less a human being than one long sequence of junk DNA.” – Dr. Phil Sandifer, PhD.

“Vox Day rises all the way to ‘downright evil’.” – Patrick Nielsen Hayden, Manager of Science Fiction, Tor Books, 15-time Hugo Award Nominee.

“Vox Day is a real bigoted shithole of a human being.” – John Scalzi, three-time SFWA President and science fiction author, 9-time Hugo nominee.

“The real burning question is, ‘what will Vox Day attack next?’” – Charles Stross, science fiction author, 15-time Hugo nominee. (“Praise for Vox Day”, pg. 7)

The answer to that last question is: the cuckservatives. A man isn’t known just by the company he keeps, but also by the opprobrium he heaps. After the SJWs, who better for Day to assail than the pseudo-conservatives of the Republican party? Like Nietzsche, Vox Day would be impossible to imagine if he didn’t exist. That’s why he’s memorable and that’s why he evokes such strong reactions, positive and negative. SJWs always lie and SJWs will always hate Vox Day. He wouldn’t want it any other way.

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Front cover of Why Your Five-Year-Old Could Not Have Done That: Modern Art Explained by Susie HodgeWhy Your Five-Year-Old Could Not Have Done That: Modern Art Explained, Susie Hodge (Thames and Hudson, 2012)

A few – a very few – of the big names in this book don’t belong here. Dalí and Magritte, for example. They don’t belong because they had skill, imagination and a sense of humour. And nobody is going to suggest that a five-year-old could match their art. This is not true of almost all the other big names. They have no skill, imagination or sense of humour, but compensate for that by having lots and lots of pretension. And despite the title of the book, Susie Hodge can’t live up to it. Again and again, confronted with yet another crudely daubed canvas or hastily assembled heap on a gallery floor, she has to admit the truth: “Well, yes, your five-year-old could have done that – but not to interrogate key issues around notions of being a talentless charlatan. And thereby make lots of money!”

Me, I don’t so much mind modern art being a racket. I mind it being a boring, repetitive racket slathered with pretentious jargon:

A large canvas, painted black with pin-width parallel lines of the canvas showing through in a geometrical pattern, may seem simple enough to create. Even though a five-year-old would have trouble keeping the fine lines regular, this piece could be replicated by a child. However, Stella was making a topical and philosophical statement, challenging Abstract Expressionism’s gestural domination and rejecting metaphorical associations, symbolism or suggestions of spirituality that so many other artists sought to express. He wanted viewers to appreciate the canvas as an object in itself. As he said, he wanted to “eliminate illusionistic space”. (ch. 2, “Expressions/Scribbles”, pg. 75)

That was Hodge on Frank Stella and his Marriage of Reason and Squalor II (1959), which hangs in the Museum of Modern Art, New York. I won’t elaborate any theories about that particular city and the way its critics and art-dealers have worked together to make junk worth much more than its weight in gold. But I will say this for Stella: his art, while worthless, isn’t actively, obtrusively ugly or jeeringly, sneeringly slapdash. He might have been a pickpocket, but he didn’t blow Bronx cheers while he was at work. I can’t say the same of Willem de Kooning and Keith Haring, who were both also active in New York. Haring was a bit too active, in fact. He was homosexual and died of AIDS, because he applied the same thinking to his sex-life as he did to his art: “I make the rules!” and “If it feels good, do it!” Unlike art critics, Mother Nature wasn’t taken in.

"Untitled" (USA Today) (1990) by Felix Gonzalez-Torres

“Untitled” (USA Today) (click for larger image)

Also active in New York, also gay and also dead of AIDS, there’s Felix Gonzalez-Torres, who was “featured posthumously as the United States’ chosen artist at the 52nd Venice Biennale”. Hispanic, homosexual and inhumed – what better representative of America’s future could there be? His “Untitled” (USA Today) (1990) consists of “sweets [candies], individually wrapped in red, silver and blue cellophane, 136 kg (300 lb) ideal weight” and is piled in one corner of the Museum of Modern Art, New York. Keeping a perfectly straight face, Hodge interrogates its gesturalities like this:

Although the work comprises items traditionally loved by children, there is nothing childish about the ideas behind “Untitled” (USA Today). Focusing on personal and political beliefs, Gonzalez-Torres was expressing his feelings about gay rights and AIDS, as well as highlighting political volatility. Children could collect and pile up sweets, but they would not be questioning viewers’ acceptance of them as art objects nor creating metaphors for sharing, the spread of a virus, instability and inequality. (ch. 1, “Objects/Toys”, pg. 37)

Agreed, children wouldn’t, but adolescents might. They have the required self-righteous and simplistic ideas about the world. However, slashing a canvas and calling it art, as Lucio Fontana did with Spatial Concept “Waiting” (1960), might be beyond an adolescent, because it’s a more mature and considered act of pretension than piling up candy in a corner. Hodge’s face is as straight as ever as she interrogates issues around the work:

The slash of a knife across a canvas looks easily achievable, and Fontana never said it was a difficult technique. However, a child would not do it for the same reasons as Fontana. With one decisive slash, he aimed to explore underlying notions of space and infinity, as well as the limitations of art and its ultimately perishable nature. (“Provocations/Tantrums”, pg. 115)

Overleaf, the bottom doesn’t so much drop out of modern art as modern art drop out of a bottom. Allegedly. Yes, it’s Piero Manzoni’s infamous Merda d’artista (1961), the ninety cans he filled with his own excrement, labelled in four languages, then sold for their own weight in gold. It’s a disarming work, I have to say. The comment applicable almost everywhere else suddenly becomes superfluous or acquires a new resonance. For once, Hodge is talking shit about real shit:

No technical skill was necessary to produce this work – any five-year-old could have deposited their own excrement in a tin, or pretended to. Manzoni was, however, making several points that few children would be able to appreciate. The work parodies inflated values of art and also exploits consumerism, particularly the developing preoccupation with packaging and posessions. Meanwhile, the contents of the tin represent the ultimate use of waste as an art material. (ch. 3, “Provocations/Tantrums”, pg. 116)

That last line is a good way of summing up modern art, modern art criticism and almost everything in this book.

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