Waking the Woke

Most of the people I really liked a lot are dead; that happens as you get older. That's not to say there aren't people I like who are still alive, but it's tricky to find them. My peers are in the same boat I am: aches and pains and complaints about the state of the world do not make for a roaring good time. But the younger ones are a turnoff, busy trying to be "woke" as if they think that's a good thing.

The definition of "woke" these days is "alert to injustice in society, especially racism." That's a crock. What it really means is, "Scared shitless one will do something wrong and be ostracized from society and mocked on Facebook." To avoid that horror people glom onto anything that is "trending," meaning being followed by the masses. After all, the masses, huddled or not, run things.

Anyone who is awake, which is the proper form of the word woke, knows instinctively that wearing your hair in braids does not rob Native Americans of anything. Or that a white person getting a tan does not demean black people or "appropriate" what is theirs, namely dark skin. Or that being able to run and walk on two legs is preferable to being confined to a wheelchair forever, or that fitting comfortably into an airplane seat beats being so fat that you need to buy two seats. Yet "wokeness" means pretending that all of that -- all physical handicaps, morbid obesity, criminal behavior due to a bad childhood and whatever the heck else you can think of that was once considered "abnormal" is to be applauded. And especially that wearing a face mask even after you have been vaccinated for Covid-19 and even if you are driving alone in your car or out hiking in the woods makes you a better person.

Perfectionism is now deplored. Success means you did something bad to get where you are. Having money means you stole it from a poor person. And if you aren't protesting something, you suck. Ironically, it's the woke people who are asleep.