The rock ‘n roll psychological disorder. Also known by the Thomas Bowdler Society as ” The Highway To Heck “.
However you come at this column today, you will be either soothed or inflamed – it has already satirised the name of a famous local band and conflated it with a mental condition. And poked fun at censorship to boot. If thou hast mind to be offended, now is thy time.
I do find myself watching my writings more closely than before, given the offence culture that would complain and cancel me at the drop of a hat. It’s not that I fear to run afoul of their complaint, but I’m not sure how you recover from it once they set the algorithms loose. I have heard of people being bitten by an algorithm and having it turn septic.
I also tread increasingly more warily when exchanging small talk with people. I’m well aware that any reference whatsoever to race, religion, gender, or political affiliation will be like throwing a torch into a powder magazine. Deliberately avoiding these topics will also call out the self-propelled scolders. I try to draw a fine balanced line in conversations by never actually being there to exchange words with anyone. I am always being called away to the pay phone booth at the corner and never seem to have sixpence.
This is not to say that I cannot state my truth fearlessly in the face of the world. I just conduct careful research to see what truth the listener wants to hear before I do. I can sugar up the sourest ideas to suit the hearer – including some for the sucrose-intolerant. You may say this is cowardly and snivelling but remember that professional cowardice commands a good price these days.
Very rarely I will encounter some concept that is so abhorrent that even I cannot bear to repeat it. Rather than make a fuss, I arrange for the people who agree with it to meet the people who do not and let them get on with it. It is rather like match-making, but with more white phosphorus.