I mean the thing I wanted to say about the whole thing was that…well you and your mate look like two men in women’s clothing for a fancy dress party. But that has no place in any kind of conversation about anything. I mean where would be as a rational scoiety go if their response to being bothered by what someone else said was to say something really mean about that person?
But I’m not getting into today’s explosion of outrage on the internet’s microblogging website, Twitter. Although, he said getting into a little bit, today was one of the first times there seemed to be only one side to the ‘debate’, that Julie Burchill was an unpleasant person for writing something really very unpleasant about trans people. The fact that she wrote something unpleasant wasn’t really a surprise, I have always thought she was a thoroughly obnoxious writer; The fact that the platform was The Observer (Not The Guardian as The Guardian‘s editor Alan Rusbridger was at pains to point out) was a little bit horrifying.
See? I’m not getting into it. I really didn’t mean to say anything about it. I was going to talk about The Bridge and Rev. Here is a kind of summary about what I am talking about if you didn’t have a clue about what I was talking about: http://www.guardian.co.uk/media/greenslade/2013/jan/14/theobserver-transgender
The worst bit about it was, of course, that it made everyone talk about her. Including me now. That’s the great paradox of something really shit being talked about loads: to be able to talk about how annoying it is that everyone is talking about the shit thing is you have to refer to the shit thing. And then how are you’re part of the fucking problem. I am part of this problem now. Except I am not because people should be talking about what a horrible thing she wrote and – hopefully – banning her from words.
And yes, I am aware that the opening sentence of this blog was kind of small-minded and had some malevolence of its own. Well I am just being mean about the way two people look who have said something really horrible and hateful (in the name of feminism?) about a section of society that are hardly without their crosses to bear. But, yeah, I’m a putz.