Gather Round, Ye Elitist Bastards

(Postdated so everybody gets to play.)

Right, my darlings. We’re overwhelmingly for a Carnival of the Elitist Bastards, which must mean we’re all elitist bastards. ¡Viva los bastardos del elitista!

For those of you just joining us, or who haven’t yet decided to make your opinions known, there’s still time. Go here and weigh in. There’s room for more than one Carnival on this site.

And I do not want to hear, “But Dana, I’m not good enough to write for a carnival!”

Of course you are. We’ll have no more of this crazy talk.

I might hear, “But Dana, what is a Carnival of the Elitist Bastards?”

That’s what we’re here to discuss.

First, for those of you who already plumped for being elitist bastards, I’d like you to stop reading. Yes, right this instant. Go write down what you thought such a carnival would be, and then come back for the rest. Don’t let my opinions sully your original ideas.

Got it down? Good. I’ll just continue, then, shall I?

It’s always helpful in these cases to start with a definition. Being elitist bastards, we are likely elite, are we not? Here’s what the Free Online Dictionary has to say about that:

e·lite or é·lite
n. pl. elite or e·lites
1.
a. A group or class of persons or a member of such a group or class, enjoying superior intellectual, social, or economic status: “In addition to notions of social equality there was much emphasis on the role of elites and of heroes within them” Times Literary Supplement.

b. The best or most skilled members of a group: the football team’s elite.

2. A size of type on a typewriter, equal to 12 characters per linear inch.


Somehow, I don’t think #2 works for us, but if one of you clever buggers just felt an idea go “ding,” run with it.

An “elitist” is defined as “someone who believes in rule by an elite group.” Seeing as how we expect our fearless leaders to have two brain cells to rub together, I believe that puts us firmly in the elitist camp.

But what kind of elitists are we? Thankfully, they have a quiz for that.

I happen to be a Book and Language Snob.

You speak eloquently and have seemingly read every book ever published. You are a fountain of endless (sometimes useless) knowledge, and never fail to impress at a party.

What people love: You can answer almost any question people ask, and have thus been nicknamed Jeeves.

What people hate: You constantly correct their grammar and insult their paperbacks.

Yes, that’s me. Hi, me. And what sort of elitist are you?

And what’s so wrong with being an elitist, anyway? The Washington Post, never known for its brain power these days, likes to think it has our answer:

Other than being called a criminal, a philanderer or a terrorist sympathizer, is there an accusation in American politics worse than being branded an “elitist”?

The word supposes something fundamentally effete and out of touch, a whiff of brie and latte. There’s something about it that grates against our Jacksonian, egalitarian self-image.

[snip]

Admittedly, it’s a fine line. It’s okay to be perceived as smart (Bill Clinton) but it’s not okay to be perceived as bookish and intellectual (Adlai Stevenson). And it’s okay to be elite. Olympic athletes are elite, as are Marines and Navy SEALs. But it’s not okay to be insufferably proud of your elite skills, which is just obnoxious.


Could we expect any better of a newspaper owned by Reverend Moon? Probably not. And that was a terribly elitist thing of me to say, wasn’t it? (Update: I just realized it’s the Washington Times that’s owned by Rev. Moon, not the Post. How silly of me. I wonder what in this article could possibly have led me to confuse the two? Apologies to the Post – you’ve actually displayed a little less fuck-wittedness than the average mainstream newspaper lately.)

Here’s how I see things: I think it’s time to plant a boot firmly in the arse of the anti-elitist bastards. I think it’s time to show the world that there’s nothing wrong with being “bookish and intellectual.” That, in fact, the world needs to celebrate more thinkers and fewer meatheads. Meatheads got us into this sorry state. Thinkers can think a way out.

It’s time we took the word “elite” back. Time we turned the tables on the “populists” and made their “anti-elitist” and “anti-intellectual” poses the obnoxious ones. What they’re basically saying is, people are stupid and enjoy mucking about with stupid people because they’re too stupid to appreciate intelligence.

I say bunk.

I call bullshit.

I think there’s all kinds of elites, and they’re just too damned afraid of being branded elitists to say so.

Is there anything wrong with preferring wine over beer? No.

Is there anything wrong with loving a complex, elegantly worded novel more than mass-produced, simplistic trash? No.

Is there really anything wrong with being so smart you need a bigger skull for your brain? No.

And what the fuck could possibly be wrong with being an expert in a field and knowing more than a layman? Absolutely nothing.

People like to spout off about the “wisdom of the masses,” but when the masses intentionally lower themselves to the mental level of their most intellectually deficient member, then the masses just ain’t that wise. I think it’s time for the masses to aspire to some of that vaunted wisdom rather than trying to flatten the bell curve with a sledgehammer.

I think it’s time we stop letting our culture celebrate willful ignorance and start promoting genius instead.

So that’s my view of this Carnival of the Elitist Bastards: we celebrate our cerebrums, jerk the sledgehammer out of the hands wielding it against us, and kick anti-elitists to the curb. We’ll delve into the delightful varieties of elitist and elite pleasures. We’ll wax philosophical and hold up the elite of our societies for praise.

I don’t think we’ll have any shortage of material.

But that may not be what first came to your mind when you decided that a Carnival of the Elitist Bastards would suit you right down to the ground.

So it’s your turn: what do you think this Carnival of the Elitist Bastards should be?

The floor is open.

Update: for more Carnival of the Elitist Bastards information, including contact info for yours truly, see this post.

Gather Round, Ye Elitist Bastards
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You (With An Unfortunate Segue Into Me)

This post could turn into a wankfest, and you should feel free to skip it.

Still here, eh? Well, pour yourself a drink. Pour me one, too. Make mine a double. Thankee kindly.

I’m enjoying this blog immensely. I love my burgeoning community of freethinkers, iconoclasts, Elitist Bastards, and philosophers. Putting together the Carnival of Elitist Bastards has been more exciting, fun, and deeply rewarding than I had any right to expect. The response has been immense. One day, I’ll have to have someone shoot a video of me jumping up and down in glee when another blogger signs on. Each and every one of you are precious to me. You’ve been my rope: before you, I was sinking fast. Won’t go into it. Just one of those crises we all experience from time to time, when another year passes and everything you’ve thought you’d accomplish has failed to get accomplished, and the niggling doubts start to chafe.

I blame Bush. Before his tragicomedy of a presidency, I was perfectly happy to live in an apolitical bubble. Had my writing to do, didn’t I, and no time for political bullshit. Didn’t know a damn thing about the Wedge Document and other such appalling assaults on intellect in this country. Before Bush, I had no idea just how far the neocons and the frothing rabid religious freaks had gone in their mighty efforts to destroy everything that was good about this country.

Bush brought that all to light by being so bloody outrageous that even an apolitical SF writer had to sit up, take notice, and sputter, “What the fuck?”

Eventually, the outrage spilled over, and ended up creating a blog, because I would have exploded if I didn’t do something. It’s not like I’m thinking that this blog will change the world. I know that I’m not a cool voice of reason logically and carefully deconstructing the arguments of irrational fools. Plenty of others do that better than I. No, I needed to voice my outrage, and I know that some of the people who battle this bullshit every day need that catharsis. They don’t have to worry about being accommodating or politically correct or understanding or civil here. It’s a cantina. You can let it all out, and use whatever language you like in doing so.

No problem with that.

And we have to get up a good head of anger, because we won’t defeat the voice of unreason with appeasement. One thing I’ve always known about dogmatic sorts: they’ll take your kindness, courtesy and accommodation and use it to brutalize you. You can’t compromise with the uncompromising.

This cantina reserves the right to refuse courtesy to those people who are so divorced from reality that they’ll see courtesy as capitulation.

I think the regulars understand that. When the opponent has completely disregarded all evidence disproving their reality-challenged views, refuses to even agree to disagree, and doesn’t understand the meaning of “live and let live,” there comes a time, after all of the civil discourse, when you find yourself with no other recourse but profanity, insults, and disgust. But none of that is aimed at the good, reasonable folk who disagree with some fundamental conclusions but have no trouble reaching an accord. In other words, folks who can say, “I’ve got my Bible, and you’ve got your Dawkins, and we’re all good here” have nothing to fear.

Thankfully, there’s still plenty of those folks out there. Some of them even fight shoulder-to-shoulder with us against the assaults of narrow-minded, anti-science, anti-anything-that-doesn’t-fit-their-absurdly-limited-understanding fuckers. They can see the dangers as clearly as we do. When you let power be taken by those who are so convinced they’re right that there’s no room other ways of thinking, other ways of believing, and other ways of life, you might as well bring the wood to your own burning.

And this all drives me crazy, because I am, at heart and despite the impression this blog may give, one of those people who would prefer to think the best of other people and would love to give them plenty of room to do whatever makes them happy.

That only works if the other bugger doesn’t decide that your scoodging aside on the bench means they get to take the whole damned bench. And the ground you’re standing on.

It’s gotten so much worse. It used to be you could just brush the buggers off the bench and get on with the sunbathing, but that ended when the far right got its grubby hands firmly on the reins of power and dug in the spurs.

Hence the anger. Hence the disrespect. How the fuck can I respect a ruling party that thinks torture is fine as long as it’s them doing the torture? How the fuck can I live and let live when the get-God-in-the-classroom-by-hook-or-by-crook crowd decides that their morality dictates the science my future doctors and researchers learn, not to mention which cures can and cannot be pursued? How the fuck can anyone expect moderation and fairness when our media’s idea of “fair and balanced” is to present he-said-she-said fights in the sandbox, without taking the very grown-up step of determining who’s lying through their teeth?

I wanted to be apolitical. I wanted to be kind, gentle, compassionate, and all sorts of other soft and fluffy things. Wanted to be reasonable and fair and erudite. And profane. Damn it, I love the word fuck and always have.

I wanted so many things, you see. And then Bush came along and let all of the lunatics out of the asylum, and I found myself drowning in this sea of insanity, and all I could do to keep from going under was scream out.

Imagine my surprise when so many of you heard me.

Imagine my delight when so many of you answered the call for Elitist Bastards and set themselves no less a goal than making the world safe for reason and intellect again.

You’re my hope and my inspiration. You make me believe that there will come a day when I won’t need to write so many diatribes and can pen a few more odes instead. We’ll be able to push the lunatics back to the fringes where they belong and give ourselves time for being and dreaming and enjoying the finer things in life.

You give me hope that we’ll create a world where religious strife, political bellicosity, and rampant ignorance hold a lot less sway than they do just now. You may never know how much that means.

Many years ago, I read The Authority by Warren Ellis and fell in love with Jenny Sparks. I live by her words: “Bugger this, I want a better world.”

We can make it happen.

We Elitist Bastards can help lift the whole world.

Believe it.

You (With An Unfortunate Segue Into Me)

My Darlings, We've Been PWND

So I pull up Sitemeter tonight to see what my blog’s been getting up to while I’m otherwise occupied, and I come across a referral from a site I’ve never heard of before:

http://www.digitaljournal.com/blog/322

The hell….? Of course, I click the link. And get bludgeoned with this:

Elitists feel no guilt when they attack the fragile self-regard of the masses by using words of more than two syllables. They feel no shame when they display knowledge which has no other use than making the
average person feel inferior. They are a danger to the nation and shouldn’t be allowed to express their perverse thoughts in public. Indeed, they can’t even be considered citizens and shouldn’t be allowed to vote.


But they recognize no limits on their arrogance and insist that they have the right to speak up, just like normal people. One example of such brazen swaggering pomposity is the upcoming Carnival of the Elitist Bastards, which will be hosted at En Tequila Es Verdad.


o_O

Harf?

And then she calls for a boycott?

I call on you to boycott this so-called Carnival of the Elitist Bastards. Ignore the elitists and let them fade away in ignominy. Show them the superiority of the average American; show them what self-esteem is really all about.


The sarcasm. Sublime. The snark. Exquisite.

My darlings, I think Connie M. (Catana)’s paid us quite a compliment. Add to that John Pieret’s beautiful, rousing write-up, and, well, wow.

We haven’t even got a submission date or a button and we’re already making an impression!

My Darlings, We've Been PWND

Your Opinion Please: Should We Have a Carnival?

Update: Postdated to stay up here a spell.

PZ just threw out a call for volunteers to host the Tangled Bank. Got me to thinking: along with that, why not throw a carnival of our very own?

I’ve a few ideas:

Carnival of the Media Clowns – wherein we bash the wretched state of the modern American media.

Carnival of the Elitist Bastards – wherein we enjoy the novel fact that we use our brains for thinking and we know stuff.

Political Sideshows – wherein we unleash our rapier wit and scathing satire upon those politicians who have proven themselves no better than circus freaks.


I know a majority of you are excellent writers – I read your blogs, and you blow me away. I know a good number of you enjoy bashing politicians – otherwise, you wouldn’t be dropping by for Happy Hour Discurso. I know you’re smarter’n all get out, because your comments here are always insightful. And being that all of the above are true, I know you’re probably frustrated to death with the overwhelming stupidity of our nation’s mainstream media.

So what say you? Up for the challenge? Ready to create our own three-ring circus? Any of the ideas above catch your fancy? If so, let me know, and we’ll put together the greatest show on earth.

Or at least one that’ll pass for it given enough alcohol. The Cantina is open!

Your Opinion Please: Should We Have a Carnival?

A Note of Appreciation

This blog is beginning to develop a healthy community of readers. I just want to take this opportunity to tell you something: each and every one of you is precious to me. You give me hope. You give me strength. I read your blogs, and I see you making a difference, and that keeps me from giving up. You make me realize that we can and will make a difference. We can and will make this a finer world.

What we do is important. Don’t ever forget that.

You matter.

Carry on.

A Note of Appreciation

Bloggers Rule, MSM Drool

Cobalt makes an interesting observation in comments on One Apology Down, 303,829,130 To Go:

Davis didn’t respond with as strong an apology as we deserve, but she was forced to backtrack because The Internet got pissed. That’s encouraging.

Damned skippy, and I hope we never forget that power.

I’ve been constantly reminded lately of a statement from Batman Begins: “What chance does Gotham have when good people do nothing?” Substitute Gotham for another city, the country, the world. What chance do we have when the good people do nothing?

And that’s what’s been so great about the internet. A lot of good people have gotten together, done something, and made a difference. Monique Davis is forced to apologize. Expelled is exposed. And there’s so much more.

These posts we write, the comments we leave, the emails and the petitions and the donations, they’re making a difference.

Democracy only flourishes when its people participate. There were far too many years when the good people did nothing, and the religious bigots, the warmongers, the batshit insane powergrabbers, took over. We have a chance to reverse that. We can pull the country back left. We can bring reason and discourse back. We will make a difference.

One blog. One comment. One email. One petition. One donation at a time. We are The Internet: hear us roar.

Who the fuck needs the Mainstream Media when they’ve got us?

Bloggers Rule, MSM Drool