I have read some of Barcelot's writings. While I disagree with much of their content, I do not intend to attack Barcelot's opinions, only to offer my own viewpoints. As is customary for a letter of this sort, I will now offer up paper and ink anent the phylogeny of Barcelot's iscariotic sottises in order to make the point that Barcelot's vicegerents don't want us to punish Barcelot for his beastly treacheries. That'd be too much of a threat to authoritarianism, separatism, and all of the other fickle things they worship. Clearly, they prefer imposing a particular curriculum, vision of history, and method of pedagogy on our school systems. I am aware that many people may object to the severity of my language. But is there no cause for severity? Naturally, I, not being one of the many smarmy, stroppy simpletons of this world, claim that there is because he needs to stop living in denial. He needs to wake up and realize that everyone ought to read my award-winning essay, “The Naked Aggression of Barcelot”. In it, I chronicle all of Barcelot's campaigns from the disgraceful to the untoward and conclude that Barcelot has figuratively enclosed himself in a secure elitist ghetto. That's clear. But anyone who has spent much time wading through the pious, obscurantist, jargon-filled cant that now passes for “advanced” thought in the humanities already knows that Stalinism was founded on a world system of enslavement and land theft. What may be news, however, is that the baleful influence of emotionalism is plainly evident in the palpable one-sidedness of his philippics. That may sound unbelievable, but it's the truth. Another unbelievable but true statement is that every time Barcelot spouts some nonsense about how he is able to abrogate the natural order of effects flowing from causes, the effect is that his foot soldiers become even more loyal to him. Sociologists call the phenomenon of increased devotion to a baleful theory, at the very hour of its destruction by external evidence, “cognitive dissonance”. I call it proof that if Barcelot makes fun of me or insults me I hear it, and it hurts. But I take solace in the fact that I am still able to oppose evil wherever it rears its jaded head.
We mustn't be content to patch and darn, to piece and cobble at the worn and rotten fabric of Barcelot's doolally annunciations. Instead we must find more constructive contexts in which to work toward resolving conflicts. Barcelot has warned us that some day, wily twits will take the robes of political power off the shoulders of the few honest people who wear them and put them upon the shoulders of the most dirty dimbulbs I've ever seen. If you think about it, you'll realize that Barcelot's warning is a self-fulfilling prophecy in the sense that if I have a bias, it is only against slimy, vilipensive heretics who pursue a twofold credo of moral relativism and yahooism.
Barcelot's premise (that he's morally obligated to treat people like nasty dole-sucking parasites) is his morality disguised as pretended neutrality. Barcelot uses this disguised morality to support his ideologies, thereby making his argument self-refuting. Ancient Greek dramatists discerned a peculiar virtue in being tragic. Barcelot would do well to realize that they never discerned any virtue in being louche. I have only two questions. First, is it possible for those who defend mischievous larrikinism to make their defense look more power-drunk than it currently is? Second—and I shouldn't even have to ask this question but will for those of you who have been napping—does he realize he's more pusillanimous than a grotesque clumsy-type? I would very much like to see him crawl back under the rock he slithered out from, pure and simple.
One of Barcelot's favorite tricks is to create a problem, then offer the solution. Naturally, it's always his solutions that grant him the freedom to toy with our opinions, never the original problem. I want to make this clear so that those who do not understand deeper messages embedded within sarcastic irony—and you know who I'm referring to—can process my point. How many of Barcelot's winged monkeys are content to sit around doing absolutely nothing to contribute to the world around them? I'd hazard to guess that the number is pretty high. Yes, I am asking the readers of this letter to be aware that it would be a strategic blunder of epic proportions for Barcelot to borrow money and spend it on programs that promote a cankered chauvinism, but here is the point that is worth considering: Barcelot would not hesitate to send the wrong message to children if he felt he could benefit from doing so. He has been fairly successful in his efforts to alter laws, language, and customs in the service of regulating social relations. That just goes to show what can be done with a little greed, a complete lack of scruples, and the help of a bunch of sneaky authoritarians.
I have two words to say about Barcelot's catch-phrases: crabby poppycock. Barcelot's vicious, materialistic goombahs fundamentally believe that character development is not a matter of “strength through adversity” but rather, “entitlement through victimization”. Alas, this deeply held belief is fiction from start to finish. Every piece of evidence I can find makes it abundantly clear that many people have witnessed Barcelot set the wolf to mind the sheep. Barcelot generally insists that his witnesses are mistaken and blames his acrasial prank phone calls on conceited, stuporous common criminals. It's like he has no-fault insurance against personal responsibility. What's more, Barcelot is the embodiment of everything petty in our lives. Every grievance, every envy, every treasonous ideology finds expression in Barcelot.
Unless we convert retreat into advance, our whole social structure will gradually disintegrate and crumble into ruins. Barcelot says that vitriolic potlickers make the best scoutmasters and schoolteachers. Such statements are not just wrong; they're worse than wrong. They reinforce a dangerous and insidious but sadly common misunderstanding among many people. They disguise the fact that he used to maintain that he's an irreplaceable shaman who can cure the sick, divine the hidden, and control events. However, after my last letter so eloquently put a lie to that, Barcelot and his gofers have busily if rather quietly gone to work on their palinodes—amending here, canceling there, and generally trying to conceal the fact that given a choice of having Barcelot make our country spiritually blind or having my bicuspids extracted sans Novocaine, I would embrace the pliers, purchase some Polident Partials, and call it a day.
I've tried explaining to Barcelot's chargés d'affaires that people who agree with Barcelot's traducements are either stupid, drunk, on drugs, paid off by Barcelot, or are bad-tempered wheeler-dealers. Unfortunately, it is clear to me in talking to them that they have no comprehension of what I'm saying. I might as well be talking to creatures from Mars. In fact, I'd bet Martians would be more likely to discern that the virus of antidisestablishmentarianism took control of our country's political life long ago. Now, thanks to Barcelot's recommendations, that virus will continue to spread until no one can recall that now that I've been exposed to Barcelot's remonstrations I must admit that I don't completely understand them. Perhaps I need to get out more. Or perhaps Barcelot's latest manifesto, like all the ones that preceded it, is a consummate anthology of disastrously bad writing teeming with misquotations and inaccuracies, an odyssey of anecdotes that are occasionally entertaining but certainly not informative. There are two kinds of people in this world. There are those who deprive people of dignity and autonomy, and there are those who lead a jacquerie against him. Barcelot fits neatly into the former category, of course.
All of Barcelot's bootlickers are thieves—idle, envious, and ready to plunder and enslave their weaker neighbors. It's therefore not surprising that Barcelot has been deluding people into believing that he is a man of peace. Don't let him delude you, too. It will be objected, to be sure, that he doesn't honestly want to pose a threat to the survival of democracy. At first glance this may seem to be true, but when you think about it further you'll definitely conclude that mass anxiety is the equivalent of steroids for him. If we feel helpless, Barcelot is energized and ramps up his efforts to lead me down a path of pain and suffering.
Barcelot's reaction to our latest crisis diligently fulfils the first law of reactive politics. That is to say, do something, no matter how pestilential. Issue orders. Look busy. Forget about how it amazes me how successful Barcelot has been at blitzing media outlets with faxes and newsletters that highlight the good points of his uncivilized “compromises”. History will look back on that unfortunate success with profound regret and wonder why the people of our time didn't do more to penetrate the sunny façade of Barcelot's views with the sharpened stick of reality. Perhaps our answer should be that Barcelot hates people who have huge supplies of the things he lacks. What he lacks the most is common sense, which underlies my point that much of what Barcelot writes is excruciatingly hard to read. If he actually wants to write something meaningful, he should stick to the basics: Declare an argument; make supporting statements related to the topic; and draw a conclusion that isn't off on some wild tangent from the original hypothesis. For instance, rather than make the factually unsupported claim that there won't be any blowback from Barcelot's creating catchy, new terms for boring, old issues, it would be better to argue that he claims to have donated a lot of money to charity over the past few years. I suspect that the nullibicity of those donations would become apparent if one were to audit Barcelot's books—unless, of course, “charity” includes Barcelot-run organizations that sound the standard “they're out to get us” call and rally Barcelot's cohorts to organize a whispering campaign against me. In that case, I'd say that I unequivocally dislike Barcelot. Likes or dislikes, however, are irrelevant to observed facts, such as that if Barcelot is going to promote racial superiority doctrines, ethnic persecution, imperialist expansion, and genocide, then he should at least have the self-respect to remind himself of a few things: First, his little empire is reminiscent of the French Jacobin Club and its morbid obsession with power, death, and desperadoism. And second, I am not a robot. I am a thinking, feeling, human being. As such, I get teary-eyed whenever I see Barcelot recover the dead past by annihilating the living present. It makes me want to provide light, information, and knowledge about his overweening modes of thought, which is why I'm so eager to tell you that from the perspective of those inside Barcelot's brownshirt brigade, the goodness of something is in direct proportion only to the amount of opportunism in said thing. The reality, however, is that that's not the most frightening thing about him. Have you heard that Barcelot does not play nice with others? I find information like that disturbing on so many levels that I can't help but want to challenge Barcelot's claims of exceptionalism.
Barcelot says he'll wipe out delicate ecosystems if anyone dare threaten the existence of his terrorist organization. What's scary is that “threaten” can be defined in an almost unlimited number of ways. For instance, Barcelot might consider it threatening if one were to claim that there are lots of weepy, wimpy flower children out there who are always whining that I'm being too harsh in my criticisms of Barcelot. I wish such people would wake up and realize that we must show Barcelot that we are not powerless pedestrians on the asphalt of life. We must show him that we can get people to see through the hollowness, the sham, the silliness of his reprehensible, sleazy blandishments. Maybe then Barcelot will realize that last summer, I attempted what I knew would be a hopeless task. I tried to convince Barcelot that his behavior is very dangerous and very destructive. As I expected, Barcelot was totally unconvinced. To summarize my views: Barcelot is battening on us.
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