Recently, Jack Marx at the Sydney Morning Herald has come to believe that he is drowning in a flood of numbskulls. So he unleashed one of the finest, most brutally hilarious rants it has ever been my pleasure to encounter.
All trouble starts in the Mind of Dumb. Somewhere back in the depths of Arcanum is a caveman saying to another: “Why don’t you come over tonight for dinner?” But the other caveman is as thick as Jupiter, and he hears this not as a friendly invite, but a complaint, and so he parries. The first caveman doesn’t want to fight, but he’s got to defend himself against this idiot, at which point the idiot’s friend, who’s a good deal more intelligent and knows it’s a dumb fight, must defend his mate because that’s what friends are for. So it goes from the bottom of Bedlam to the brains at the very top and, in the blink of a cosmic eye, we’ve got Hezbollah. Travel back on the great time continuum of violence and this is what you’ll find at the start: not God and the equally shrewd Satan, or the inquisitive Adam and conniving Eve, but a dickhead.
I’m of a mind to stop reacting to numskulls with a roll of the eyes and a toss of the head, their words to be simply filed and used later as amusing material at dinner parties. The time has come to smack them squarely in the face, and to tell them to get the hell out of ours. Their voices are not just benign carriages of wasted words, their lips but protection for the knuckles of the comparatively smart. These people can actually make things happen and stop good things from being done. The human race has performed magnificently in devising ways to keep the hoodlums of nature at the gate, only to be baffled by relentless inside jobs courtesy of hammerheads with less wisdom than the avalanche or the flood.
Read it all, and pass it on to Dennis Miller.
h/t: Tim Blair