It seems like such a weird thing. Ten years ago getting accused of racism was the worst possible thing. Anyone I knew did everything they could to avoid it and even the merest suggestion would create incredible stress. It was the *worst* thing that could happen to your reputation. Now, well, a lot of people stopped caring so much because the accusations became the default, and attached to anything and everything that had nothing at all to do with race. (If everyone is racist, then no one is.) And then even the definition changed so racism wasn't dependent on opinions or actions anymore but simply on who you are... or who you weren't. The woke happily carry on with their public theater of racist confession because it requires nothing of them, no change in their behavior because they aren't (in their mind) actually guilty of anything. It's all show. So when they go on to accuse someone of a "long history of racism" they aren't any more serious than if th
The "hate has no home here" stuff is so... Orwellian. See now, there are people I disapprove of. There are even probably a few that I dislike. There are individuals I avoid both in meat-space and inside my head because no one has time for their toxicity. But I'm allowed to "hate" people. I generally don't, but I have a choice. The Orwellian "hate has no home here" REQUIRES those people to hate. It's not even optional anymore. They have a moral obligation in order to maintain their status as a "good" person to hate all the "haters". They are required to be intolerant of the intolerant. People who disagree aren't merely *disapproved* of because of their wrong ideas. They have to be hated or else your moral position isn't firm enough.
Dome Monkeys (Published in Space Opera : Writer’s contest anthology. Fall 2016) Ralotarans appeared on the control room screens; slow and stupid and thinking they could simply demand surrender of the Xa'ethian space station. Lan'to Paun gave a derisive sniff before choking as the last of the shadows resolved. Humans. The Ralotarans had Humans. Lan'to Paun spun to her deputies. "Where did they obtain Humans?" Deputy Tu'lli Po stepped forward. "Be calm, Station Master. Human allies or not, they cannot enter the range of our defenses. The Humans are not magic, Station Master. They are flesh and can die." Lan'to Paun's other Deputy, Mi'ole Tula, an ancient crone with long teeth and more years of institutional memory than anyone else on Lan'to Paun's staff, shouldered Tu'lli Po aside. "We have Humans as well, Station Master." She turned