The sequel.

There’s an implied, sociopathic dare. The game being “You won’t do what’s needed, despite our alarming and menacing behaviour, because you’re nicer than us, less vain, and not unhinged, and so we can dominate you and terrorise you, and break your stuff, for as long as we want, for shits and giggles.”

Well. I would suggest that the activists’ own actions render their wellbeing of very low importance.

A terribly modern moral problem. Answers on a postcard, please.

Curiously, the North Yorkshire Fire and Rescue Service survey form, inviting the public to express their views on Pride attendance and matters of transvestite outreach, has, with seeming briskness, now been shut down.

Readers may wish to speculate on why that might be.

Readers will note the odd implication that the level of serious criminal behaviour at any given time should somehow conform to the amount of prison space you have at that time. As if the moral gravity of a criminal act, and likelihood of recidivism and danger to the public, should be determined by whether or not you can be bothered to build another dungeon.

On crime, incarceration, and dubious conclusions.

A return to the Dark Ages is always possible. You just have to put people who write for The Guardian in charge of everything.

From the comments following this.

On misplaced faith in cardboard; on danger as something you can pretend away; on malice with impunity; and on solving crime by claiming the victims don’t exist.

A snapshot of progressive innovation.

On the evaporating standards of “affirmative psychotherapy”:

Sharp-eyed readers may have registered the seeming absence of curiosity, of enquiry – say, regarding very common causes of the phenomenon in question. Readers may also wish to ponder the inevitable tensions between affirmation and investigation – and to place bets on which will be dispensed with in favour of the other. In this Yes, You Are Napoleon school of psychotherapy, where the unwell must always be told whatever they want to hear. Possibly before being steered towards irreversible mutilation and lifelong pain.

Or, when pretending is the highest possible virtue.

Quite how those unspecified “white” ideas alter the rules of multiplication, percentages and other simple mathematical operations remains a thing of mystery. Indeed, as so often, the precise nature of this alleged corruption, this all-pervasive and befouling “whiteness,” is left to the imagination. Though much is pitched upon that mystery.

On the crushing terror of “white supremacy” in middle-school maths class.

“All we ever wanted was to be a part of creating a more beautiful planet.”

A tale of tax, utopia, and human faeces.

In crime news:

A trans-identified male sex offender who attempted to enrol at a local high school in Oregon… was arrested… after an officer at South Albany High School reported him for pretending to be a 15-year-old girl in order to register as a student.

Or, when sexual predation meets Scooby Doo.

On mathematics as an alleged cause of racial trauma; on the fare-dodging hipsters of San Francisco; and on the imagined importance of politically radical tableware:

Ms Burgher approvingly cites Ms Robin DiAngelo, a fellow peddler of neurosis, the L Ron Hubbard of wokeness, and whose devotees, as we’ve seen, are often wildly unhinged and nakedly malevolent. Which probably tells us much of what we need to know about Ms Burgher and her racial affectations. The mindset she wishes to inflict on others. And by extension, those who succumb.

And so, Ms Burgher makes her unattractive tat, and calls it art, and treads on ceramic eggshells, and calls it performance art, while listing the hallucinatory evils of having pale skin. And while telling those sufficiently credulous that “whiteness is oppression,” the source of all that is wrong, a basis for eternal shame, and that white people should “not behave white.”

You see, we will purge the world of bigotry by embracing wholesale the mental habits of the bigot.