Do I detect...

Do I detect the Acrid Stench of Fascist Pheromones?

Whenever I read or hear the expression ‘political correctness’, (inevitably followed by ‘gone mad’), I detect knee-jerk reactionary discourse emanating from right-wing echo chambers. Do these people not have anything better to do? What about writing broken-hearted love songs or stories of compassion, rather than targeting and harassing those they disagree with, using rather petty acerbic barbs? That pretty much defines Fascism as far as I am concerned; blaming the woes of the world on innocent and vulnerable scapegoats.

If you are opposed to anti-Fascists, you are ipso facto pro-Fascist. My grandfather and great-uncles (one of whom was imprisoned in Changi with Weary Dunlop) fought in WW2 to oppose totalitarianism. They were heroes, whereas these guys are cowardly bullies who hide behind masks.

It is drawing a rather long bow to accuse my broken-hearted love poem, Phobophobia, of political correctness, which leads me to assume that they are incapable of detecting wit or irony, neither of which they possess. I won’t go on. Life is too short to argue with mindless ideologues.

Q: What do call a MAGA with a sense of humour?  

A: A cadaver.