g r o t t o 1 1

Peeve Farm
Breeding peeves for show, not just to keep as pets
Brian Tiemann
Silicon Valley-based purveyor of a confusing mixture of Apple punditry and political bile.

btman at grotto11 dot com

Read These Too:

InstaPundit
USS Clueless
James Lileks
Little Green Footballs
As the Apple Turns
Entropicana
Cold Fury
Capitalist Lion
Red Letter Day
Eric S. Raymond
Tal G in Jerusalem
Secular Islam
Aziz Poonawalla
Corsair the Rational Pirate
.clue
Ravishing Light
Rosenblog

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Thursday, June 24, 2004
12:17 - It's all fun and games now
http://www.pvponline.com/

(top) link
I must say I've got some new respect for Scott Kurtz, creator of the PVP online comic. He's noticed a disturbing new trend—well, not new, really; just seen afresh from yet another perspective. (Via .clue.)

I've tried just about every character type and I'm settling on my favorites. Last night, for fun, I decided to make myself a Captain America type hero...you know, go the whole patriotic route.

So I logged onto the Guardian server and created myself a Science origin Tanker with Invulerability and Super Strength. I dressed him in red, white and blue, adorned him and named him FLAG WAVER.

Once I got to a populated area, other people in the game started reacting to my character, but not in the way I expected.

"Ugh. I hate our country."
"How can you wave a flag of a country that kills other countries for oil we already have."
"Bush is an idiot."

I inquired if these people were from another country that maybe didn't look too kindly on the US. They all stated that they were Americans, but they just didn't really like America.

I have to say that I was flabbergasted. No. I was disgusted. I really didn't know what to say back to these other players. I certainly didn't log into the game to get into a political debate. If anything, I logged in to escape that stuff.

Read on to see his creative solution to the problem.

If I were in his position, though, I don't know if I'd have had the fortitude to be satisfied with that. I'd probably become deeply depressed by what I'd seen, so much so as to be unable to react to it with humor.

Behold the march of progress. We've defeated nationalism, bad old nationalism. It's a thing of the past. When even a lighthearted, leisure-time burlesque of patriotic spirit is hounded into the corner by unmasked hate, you've just got to pause the VCR, hold up an Uncle Sam poster from the WWII era next to it, and stare. Just stare. From one to the other. Just stare, and slowly shake your head.

This is what the past forty years of gradual, great-hearted "progress" has bought us. Do we even have buyer's remorse? Do we even give a flying Scotch loaf?

If I'd read a story like this in October of 2001, I would have thought it was a sick parody. I never would have conceived of believing it could be real.

Can we please have some people out there, some of those remaining few with a sense of reality and the ability to think and reason, to have the courage to declare they're on our side? I'm looking around and I'm seeing that even the fence-sitters see us as some kind of shameful burden to put up with—the retarded uncle in the basement, the way I once read Windows users see Apple. Who'll stand up and say I'm Spartacus? Who'll brave their friends' disapproving jeers to say they're with us? Is there anyone left at all who hasn't succumbed to the siren call of the social approval you get from being opposed to America? Could I just hear a "We're with you"—just a quiet little one, to renew my faith in a humanity that knows good from evil? I promise I won't tell anyone.

Urg. I'm sorry. I'm rambling. This has been a difficult couple of days.


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