Grab a piece of the Grok, or don’t

This is funny and revealing all at once.
On Saturday, Judy Paris, whose incessant and publicly disseminated views on gay civil unions and the Iraq war I have mentioned here several times, called in to a radio show hosted by her own co-blogger, Skip Murphy. Only about an hour before the show (the existence if which I was previously unaware) was scheduled to start, she mentioned in a comment here that she’d be on the air and that I should call in with my opinions and engage her directly. I already had pretty firm plans to head out the door and run errands at that point, but later noted that this didn’t matter because Judy had already shown that she wasn’t up to answering questions about, or in any way mitigating or modifying, her views and that anything I said about her was therefore not something intended to lead to “debate” or discussion in any way; it was sheer criticism. This remains my position until one of the Groksters responds to the challenges, both focused and general, that I have made to their claims that the rights of others should be limited and opinions about the war treated as hysterical pinko bablbing. If they staunchly maintain that their ideas are, a priori, correct, why should I or anyone try to change their minds?
Listen to the relevant clip from Saturday’s show.


Judy, right off the bat, takes pride in being called a troglodyte, which she curiously reckons is worse (and therefore better, in some twisted way) than being called a bigoted homophobe. The banter centers for a few moments on the category we have here called “Troglodytes at play,” which — though reserved for posts dealing precisely with people who write and say the sorts of things Judy does — is more emblematic of this blog’s obvious and lighthearted chimpanzee theme (and no one has to like it, but there it is) than it is a specially directed dig at Judy Paris. Regardless, this part of the clip brought a smile to my face.
They also mentioned that if I did call in, I’d have to refrain from the profanity which, according to them, seems to constitute the sum total of my criticism. This is a familiar means of avoiding fact-based dialogue. Never mind that my post on Friday didn’t contain a single naughty word besides “balls” and that I am fully cognizant of the difference between writing on a blog and speaking on the airwaves in terms of comportment. Judy herself acknowledged being aware of this distinction when mg asked if shouting “treason” and “commie” would fly on the show.
So in their view, it’s more “decent” to take a broadly comtemptuous stance on homosexuality and call anyone who disagrees with the way the war is being conducted “former hippies” and “treasonous” than it is to drop a few F-bombs. This being the case, color me proudly indecent.
Moreover, they claim they have “answered back” here, but this is true only to the extent they have posted noncontributory comments. As you can see, none of the Groksters produced a single reason that gay civil unions should be prohibited. In reponse to my first post about Judy some weeks back, another Grokster, Doug Lambert, wrote on Granite Grok that I had merely been “nasty” and Skip subsequently chimed in with especially grand irrelevance that I should appreciate the “chivalry” inherent in his taking a token stand for Judy’s ideas; apparently, their claim that Judy is a master interlocutor who can roll with the punches doesn’t mean that she doesn’t need diffuse and hapless support from the non-distaff side.
They wrote nothing all in the way of even trying to explain why gay civil unions should be verboten, and more recently, nothing to explain why anyone should agree with the idea that it’s treasonous or beatnik-like to point out the shortcomings of the war to date. They say that they “try to respect [others’] points of view,” but quite plainly, the Groksters had already established an interest in offering nothing but deafening silence concerning the very issues they hold dear. Now I’m supposed to undertake the same fruitless endeavor of asking direct questions on their show? How much time would I have been given?
They suggest that I’m not interested in talking on their program because I can’t back up what I say, as if the very medium they themselves love so much (the blogoshere) does not and cannot serve the same function. Well, that’s kind of a strange position to take when you consider the fact not only of their failure to answer my various questions, but their documented refusal to post dissenting comments on their blog, something you never see on the Chimp Refuge.
You should see why I’m a little nonplused at their definition of “refus[ing] to take on ahead-on debate.” These people are flat-out, issue-ducking ideologues, and that, not my uncontrollable coprolalia or anything akin to cowardice, explains why I will never bother calling into their radio show.
It’s tit for tat, people; start answering questions, even if this means supplying nonsensical answers, and you might see your opponents finding a reason to engage you on your program. Stop barring reasoned, non-trolling, non-flaming comments from your blog, and perhaps you’ll create the impression among your opponents that speaking on your show is an exercise demonstrably more prodcutive than rooting around in one’s left nostril in a search for the Hope diamond.

3 thoughts on “Grab a piece of the Grok, or don’t”

  1. Arrgggh. She is painful to listen to. That false bubbly June Cleaver wanna-be aura and moral smugness grates like my knuckles across a stucco wall. This was typical of the echo chambers that are most conservative talk shows. I think I’m going to cram a letter opener into my ears to try and remove that voice from my memory.
    I agree I didn’t hear address a single thing about the topics. It was all about what a naughty boy you are.
    FYI I was up on the Blue Ridge Parkway this weekend and got a few nice shots. Going to try a HDR compilation shot from the sunrise and I’ll send it to you.

  2. What Judy and her cronies do is no different than the actions of a C-team schoolyard wannabe-bully who thinks he can get the better of a bookish classmate over some morally noncontroversial yet hot-button issue (e.g., whether girls should get to be on recess kickball teams). He expects that by blaring his opinion in the general direction of all the boys and girls, but especially at bookish kid (sure, the nerd gets straight A’s, but can he really be socialized or confident?) only to find himself and his ideas shellacked — bigtime — once the festivities begin. In fact, he winds up with a bloody nose for his trouble.
    The confused and rattled and snot-caked aggressor then runs straight to mommy and, once in the safety of his yard, complains amid barely concealed sniffles that all he wanted to do was talk about it, and emphasizes that had he really WANTED to he could have not only won the kickball game with a team of his choosing, but the fight as well.
    He never learns anything, grows up to be a journeyman Wal-Mart greeter, lives out his days in resentment over the uppity womyn and Negroes and qeers (OH MY!) of the world, but ifnothing else clings tight to the grunting inner voice telling him he really has been right the whole time, and the rest of the world is both spineless and stupid for letting the womyn and Negroes and qeers (OH MY!) attain equal footing.
    I’ve not once tried to comment on that wreck of a blog myself, by the way. If I find sufficient reason I’ll do this, with no potty poo poo words, and see how wiling to engage in open discussion as they say they are. But I’ll have to wait for a new topic, because they’ve already run away in at least five dimensions from gays and the war.

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