Last month notable personage and estimable preacher Pat Robertson passed away.
While more than a few grievous deviants took opportunity to malign the man, he had a profound affect on my own life.
Back in the fabled “Before Time” (prior Basic Cable and Internet Service) was a thing called Syndication.
It was upon those airwaves Robertson broadcast The 700 Club. (It was so-named after a fundraising appeal…much as The 400 of Manhattan was the figure capable of fitting the ballroom of Mrs. Astor.)
During one of those sermons Robertson expounded on a sports figure who used illicit drugs, for the first time and only time, having recently signed a major contract – and the athlete died.
As a direct result of that program and the impression made by it my vow was never to take narcotics.
In years to come, when money and appearance coupled with opportunity led such temptations to become ubiquitous, it was an oath strictly kept.
Whether crediting religion or remonstrance, the impact of that Pat Robertson hour was wholly positive.
Of course, those were quaint days when America was a Christian country.
Now we have “Woke” as a far darker faith…and its message, to say nothing of its clarions, is nothing but negativity.
Lately has been quite a lot of speculation that Wokism is undefinable; and as a term it ought be discontinued for want of delineation.
This befuddles since it seems rather obvious what Woke is and where Woke leads.
Allow your diligent Correspondent to tether you through the thicket of thick skulls…
First and foremost, Woke is a rebellion. It is a noxious teenager sneaking “forbidden” books in dim corners because he is ever so awesome in his study of secret knowledge.
Of course, to mature intellects he is a nonsense child reaching for peculiarity over substance.
This was the same motivating factor which sent nearly pubescent girls out into the woods around Salem; a craven desire to be unique and special without actually being unique or accomplishing anything special.
So funny little costumes are worn and important sounding phrases are spoken…all of which mean nothing.
Your average Wokie is a forlorn dejected nebbish raging against normality; he is not a visionary apart from society as Van Gogh, but the drunkard in a café posing as aesthete.
Whenever one listens to a Wokester talk his kvetching can be translated, “Look at me! Look at me!”
Lamentably, in this desperate cloying to be substantial using only upsets as signifiers a Wokizen must become ever more extreme to stand out from the crowd…even when the congregation is a collection of communal rejects.
Soon the Wokista finds himself on a quest to become ever more pure in his Dogma of Intentional Offense.
If purchasing dogfood was anathema yesterday, then eating dogfood must be advocated today, with actually becoming a dog the objective for tomorrow.
Woke as a concept is unfulfilling since it can never be satisfied with anything so base as termination.
Indeed, the very anthem of the Wokininnies begins (and ends) with the lyrics, “…But more must be done!...”
Formerly esteemed spokesmen for Wokemania have been discarded to the wayside once their usefulness in reaching the next plateau has been achieved and only the “Next New Normal” is worth paying attention.
Which brings us to another feature of the Wokateria buffet – excommunication.
Anyone who does not adhere to the latest and greatest outrage agenda is a “suppressive person” unworthy of respect or dignity or existence.
Woke is a temporal condition and it is always right now.
If you thought you were “awake” five minutes ago, it’s time to look at your watch again and then check your grievance card.
Every instant that passes is another moment to locate and lament another -ism…racism, sexism, genderism, classism, normativism…any -ism you can envision is merely one more crusade away.
Yet woe betide the poor Wokapotamus that fails to keep abreast of the current underserved, underappreciated and underrepresented.
The Cardinal Sin of Woke is to be complacent in The Cause.
So another myopic hysteria is akin to a religion…real original, Somerset!
Granted; here’s the divergence.
While in the olden days (pre-dating even Syndication) there was no more danger of disturbance for the ordinary individual in private life than passing by a creep with a cardboard sign, today the Wokinators are everywhere askance.
Social media not so much a megaphone as it is a soapbox…and everybody has one.
With the push of a button a multitude of idiots populate the online landscape – all of them competing for followers with accounts of ever more alarming outrages.
Taken in sum such monomania can mean only one thing – Woke is little other than a system of destruction.
Its edicts are not inclined to improve life for anyone, despite its claims to the contrary. This is because those which Woke deigns to help today are by design those which Woke discards tomorrow – Condemnation is the sacrament of Conviction.
The Poor? So 1930s! The Blacks? So 1960s! The Homosexuals? So 1980s! The Transgenders? So 2010s!
Disadvantaged personages can only be posterchildren for so long before another deprived party must be found to paper over their Predecessors of the Pathetic.
And if you are still poor or Black or gay or transgender…well, you had your day in the sun…so don’t rain on the next pride parade.
Few – if any – Americans go around looking for people to oppress. Most are simply trying to get on with their own lives. This doesn’t make them asleep; it makes them busy.
Wokeness is frequently claimed to be some bizarre amalgamation of redressing historical slights, giving a voice to those in the shadows, or some such similar nonsense about inclusion all made while shouting.
Wokery is the opposite because Woke is premised on an inviolate confidence the Wokie understands the motivations of all people, at all times, in all places – Woke advocates do not think, they KNOW.
Wokesters are correct about everything, will always be correct about everything, and take every opportunity to correct anyone who dares disagree with them.
Whereas conventional Christianity states, “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you…” the Wokestatic mantra is, “Do as I say because I am right and can never be wrong…”
So while Woke claims to be forging new paths it is instead treading old ground. Woke is the infant in the Cathedral which screams all during the service. Rather than uplift it drowns out any who dissent.
Wokemeisters are Conventional Wisdom personified – and frequently weaponized.
The purpose here is not to elegize Pat Robertson or his religion or any faith in particular.
Only to say when it comes to a flawed man giving positive advice to advance happiness in a young life contrasted with those of allegedly flawless philosophies who do little else than tear down everything in life…the intelligent choice is evident.
It is a tiresome sort of conviction which trades in relentless denunciation - Even the Inquisition had to end some time.
Personally, many prefer the live and let live model. Thus for the Woketards we sayeth unto you…
Go Forth and Whine No More!
Indiana Jones and the Dial of Emasculation starring Grumpy Geezer and Phoebe-Hyphenate premiers in America on July 30
Guy Somerset writes from somewhere in America
The Armed Forces of Ukraine may face new problems over the upgraded Russian unmanned aerial vehicle Lancet. Kyiv will now need to use airfields far from the line of combat contact and look for new ways to protect its aircraft