To the chickens of true progress, I beg of you, come home and roost! Roost, you bastards, roost! Your cause has been cursed!
Progress. Not since the terms “literally” and “ironic” has a word been so blatantly bastardized in the American discourse. And it’s no wonder. Any time we start throwing a word around with such habitual carelessness, its true meaning will eventually be abandoned.
Progress, originally defined as a literal or figurative forward movement, enlightenment, prosperity, and goal-obtaining growth, has now been reduced to represent an individual’s championing of their own interests and mindset, meant to benefit themselves and their contemporaries and lay waste to the cares and concerns of anybody else. And that is literally ironic.
This pollution of language is precisely what’s kept me from playing in the modern day progress game. I believe in the fight for change, but I want a clean fight and I want to know exactly what I’m fighting for.
What progressives have currently waged is a war — selfishly motivated, cloaked in bullshit, and riddled with casualties — but presented as a drastic measure for the greater good.
Ultimately, this is not about evolution for them, it’s about self-congratulating and compromise. And if you think I’ve harshly mounted too high a horse here, just remember, this year’s Golden Globes attendees were comprised of two groups: a) those that wore black to support abused women and b) Tonya Harding. Something tells me Nancy Kerrigan didn’t share in the Academy’s joyous celebration of our nation’s most famous steel-pipe-attack conspirator.
All you needed to do was watch that televised travesty to realize the proudest of progressives are always willing to sacrifice, to some extent, the dignity and respect of others in pursuit of their own version of a better tomorrow. Incidentally, that same ceremony failed to invite a multitude of industry women who actually led the charge against Harvey Weinstein … because those women weren’t currently notable enough.
“We cannot seek achievement for ourselves and forget about progress and prosperity for our community.”
Oh, Hollywood, home to so many of those that claim to think liberally, you can be truly disgusting. You pat yourselves on the back with one hand while using the other to stab the next person in theirs. And if you really hate watching award shows but still want proof of pseudo-progressivism, go watch the post-election episode of Saturday Night Live. It’s the one where Lorne Michaels (yes, I’m blaming only him) had the show open with Kate McKinnon as Hillary Clinton singing a Leonard Cohen song about hope. Funny, I don’t remember seeing the “Sorry, we let Donald Trump host our show and we might be partially responsible for this mess” sketch that week. It must’ve been cut at the last minute.
The progressives conveniently never seem to have any blood on their hands. Take gentrification. I find it nothing short of fascinating that most of the privileged assholes that take over an inner-city neighborhood, using Daddy’s dime to ruin its history, people, and culture, are the same dildos sitting in the newly-constructed coffee shop, delivering mocha-latte-fueled pontifications about racism and fascism being “gnarly.”
(On a related side note, isn’t it amusing that so many of the people complaining about “Trump’s wall” are people that live in gated communities? I don’t want the wall either, but it’s an interesting thought.)
Back to the modern day pilgrims descending on our urban communities. These people essentially steal land, conquer villages, and destroy all in their path, except instead of using guns and ammunition, they use higher tax brackets and low-interest loans. They come in peace, with kind eyes and smiling faces, then slowly eat away at everything, from the inside out. First, they buy the apartments, then the houses, then the businesses, then the buildings. Bodegas become jewelry stores, neighborhood bars become gastropubs, and the chicken joint with the bulletproof glass becomes a mirrored pilates studio. There is no adapting — there is only dragging everything down to their own sick, self-involved level so that the entirety of their surroundings serves to assist them in completing their mental, spiritual, and personal fitness goals. And that’s their version of progress. Run the natives out so we can build a more “civilized” society where we can talk about the sad state of the natives.
(Another side note: Everything I’m referring to is precisely why fucking McDonald’s has fucking kale salads on their fucking menu now. How about this? Don’t eat at McDonald’s, you fucking child.)
The proudest of progressives are always willing to sacrifice, to some extent, the dignity and respect of others in pursuit of their own version of a better tomorrow.
I find it all quite devilish. The progressive’s heart and mind lust for security and dominance, but their lips will tell you their only objectives are growth and understanding. Sorry, but I, for one, prefer a devil that displays his horns, not one that hides them from me. At least then I know where I stand with the prick. I’m tired of people taking jobs with individuals they deem as unethical or even criminal, then donating their paycheck to charity when they get called out on it. Not impressive, not progressive; in reality, it’s actually suppressive. It sends a message to the victims of the world that their tragedy has a price, and it’s only worth paying if you get caught with your hand in the cookie jar.
Progressivism isn’t a concept you suddenly realize. There is no magical Scrooge on Christmas morning awakening. You’re either consistently ethical or you’re conveniently hypocritical. I’m a human being, so I know either is immensely possible.
Throughout my life, there will be an extensive list of right choices, wrong choices, murky decisions, and all-around moments of disregard. Bearing that truth in mind prevents me from screaming at others about how evolved a person I am (minus this column, of course). I’m complicated. And so is progress. Whether you’re looking for better living conditions, boosting morale, increasing safety standards, improving the learning curriculum, or conducting a respectful awards or variety show, it doesn’t matter. Somewhere, somehow, somebody is probably going to get fucked. So please let’s stop pretending we’re unaware of that. Using our cell phones is endorsing sweat-shop labor, more efficient computers mean even fewer jobs, and the continuation of our species leads to the inevitable destruction of nature.
What’s the mentally sound solution then? Damning the demented do-gooders or never entering the cocoon in hopes of a greater emergence? I think it’s somewhere in between. Both of those endeavors are far too complicated and I do my best to keep things simple — examining my actions, considering the people around me, and frequently asking myself one simple, horridly cliched question: What would Jesus do?
I’m about as far from spiritual or religious as one can possibly get. Faith has never been reassuring to me. Fact, on the other hand, I find very useful. And these days, the best you can do when it comes to facts is hopeful speculation. So here’s some of that: A guy named Jesus probably existed, and he most likely was consistent in his lifestyle and teachings. He lived his philosophy. That’s why he hung out with all kinds, hookers included. He didn’t judge, he didn’t cast aspersions, and he didn’t compromise. He just tried to uplift without ever stroking himself for doing so.
Much less can be said for the current cast of progressives. Strangely though, it was today’s progressives that finally made me realize it wasn’t “ironic” that Jesus hung out with prostitutes…they were just some of the only people in Nazareth that weren’t “literally” full of shit.
